#several people (including doctors) have stated that i am an anomaly with how well i function with minimal aids

[anitacoknow]

I'm feeling my emotions pretty hard today (June 14th, 2021), so it might be a good idea to start writing.

Trigger Warning:

This text post mentions suicide, death, abortion, and could be an uneasy read.

About two months ago, I almost died during a routine abortion. The way that sounds, my stomach turns and it makes the tears fall like a monsoon. Nothing about getting an abortion is easy, it is humiliating and it's a huge personal hurdle to deal with - my heart goes out to any woman who has been in that tough position. That being said, I'm not writing this for sympathy nor am I looking for negative comments or death threats, I put myself through that enough already with my own mental.

Starting this attempt to release my emotions is difficult because I'm not even sure what to say to myself. I guess I am also hopeful someone will have the right words through experience or just in general because I'm struggling to find the words within myself.

To begin, I can't have children anymore and that is the worst part; I made a decision that took future decisions, future generations, future plans away from me. So, to anyone who wanted to go in on me at the sight of the word abortion: fate ironically beat you to the punch.

I made a decision that my heart wasn't wholly in and it almost cost me my life and it cost my daughter's life (I don't need scientific fact proving she was just a clump of cells and hadn't begun processing pain or emotion or whatever, doesn't change shit as far as empathy goes, so please shove it).

Her birth name was to be Juniper.

To give some insight, Washington State allows abortions up to 28 weeks. For those who aren't aware of pregnancy cycles/trimesters, 28 weeks is still half way through the pregnancy and the beginning of the second trimester. The fetus during this stage has become more human like and all that science stuff. I had my abortion at 21 weeks, in a clinic and the process shouldn't have gone the way it did.

On the second day of my procedure, I was put under anesthesia and when I woke up I wasn't all there. Before this, I had never experienced being put under anesthesia to my recollection, so what I thought I was feeling was normal. It wasn't until I realized I had been losing conciousness that things started to feel unnatural. I was laid on the floor of the "recovery room" and I started to regain conciousness fast. There was a lot of blood between my legs and mentioning it to them seemed to make the blood pool more. It wasn't long after that the doctor that performed the procedure squated next to me to tell me she needed to put me back under.

For the next bit, I apologize to the squeamish.

There was another woman in the room with me who had just come out of her own anesthesia, she was ironically a CNA, who started to show signs of worry when I wasn't making the anticipated recovery. The doctor had her removed from the room and leaned back in to tell me that they couldn't locate the fetal head and a few limbs. When they attempted to have me walk back to the room, I fainted and was placed back on the floor. The nurses wheeled me into the surgical room and helped me back on to the table, to which I protested them allowing me to see my ride. I'm hesitant to mention the father in this because it is sensitive, so I apologize for how he is mentioned in further comments. It wasn't until I saw him that things started to blur and I started losing conciousness again.

I feel it is also important to explain what I felt, which was extremely cold. My nipples were harder than they had ever been and despite the numerous blankets, warmed and otherwise, that were placed on me, my body didn't feel warmth until the EMTs carted me to the ambulance and the sun touched me; and again when I was placed on the surgical table at the hospital. Mentally, I don't think I was aware of anything bad happening to my body. Even after hearing they lost the fetal head, I don't think I ever reacted. If I had to say, I was mentally blissful - which isn't something I have ever experienced. I literally couldn't care less, everything was a joke (which is also part of my personality when dealing with assumed stressful situations) to me up until I arrived at the ER and they put me under before telling me that they might have to remove my whole uterus. My last words would have been: "oh, this table is so warm!" to the doctor who saved my life. When I woke up 24 hours later, there was a tube in my throat and I was tied to the bed (which Hollywood doesn't show in movies or T.V. so when you are experiencing it, it is really scary and it fucking hurts.) in ICU.

So, what the fuck happened?

Well, my uterus at the time of the abortion was about 2 pounds heavy and 2 feet long; Juniper was about the size of a sweet potato to give you an image. During the abortion, the doctor perforated my uterus, the length of the tear was about a foot long according to my surgeon/aftercare doctor. The abortion itself was supposedly no more than 10 minutes, but I was apparently under for roughly an hour. My ride expected me out in two hours, but after speaking to him, started to worry when I hadn't responded to texts and the elapsed time came to four hours. During the removal of the fetus, after perforation had occurred, I laid there internally bleeding for several hours. The human body can hold minimum 5 litres of blood (or to give you an physical idea, a gallon [US] of milk about) depending on the size of the body and health. A human can die from losing 2 litres of blood, but I survived after losing 4 litres internally, which is probably what saved my life. I vaguely remember being lifted on to the gurney and I vaguely remember the ride to the ER. I was given 7 units of blood, my uterus was stitched in 8 layers and the fetal head had nestled itself behind my kidney, so I had an emergency cesarean, plus a JP drain placed to remove all the blood that pooled in my abdomen.

The hospital experience itself is a different story and makes the whole ordeal just as sad. The only solace I had were two nurses that really didn't judge me, outside of that, everyone there had an opinion and wore it on their face and in their treatment. My last interaction with one of the doctors who helped performed my "miraculous" surgery and was probably the most surprising bit because it included a little racism. My partner is white and he is cisgender. Before his appearance, said doctor largely made fun of my pain tolerance when removing surgical tape from my incision area and inner thighs. If you haven't had a cesarean or don't know exactly what it is, after making the initial incision, the doctors have to literally tear the muscles apart to get to your uterus. In my case, I also had to have my intestines removed to get to my kidneys. Needless to say, my midsection was very sensitive outside of my low pain threshold. During the stint, he very angrily asked me if I wanted to remove the bandage myself while showing his frustration in his whole body and face. At that point, I just said fuck it and let him tear the bandage from my body with a little skin along with it. After a quick look, he stood up and asked if I cared if he left to deliver a baby and he didn't wait for a response, I assume because my face probably said exactly what he wanted. I sat there and cried until my partner got there and when he showed face again, his bedside manner gave me whiplash. He released us after I made a large fuss about my care and I left holding back tears until we were out of sight of the hospital.

The day before I almost died, I sat with the owner of the clinic who also doubles as a nurse there, and cried to her about my fear and the little consolation I had because she was kind. I have had two previous abortions during a previous marriage that I also didn't want to have, but being in an abusive relationship, you give and take a lot, that included. I confided in her that those two experiences, both at Planned Parenthood, were riddled in racist bedside manner and left me uneasy about abortions and clinics in general. Being a woman of color herself, she cried with me and assured me that things would be fine, in fact the woman doing my abortion would also be a woman of color. She called me two days later, I could hear her sadness, but it also left me in such a state of panic that I ended the conversation without saying much.

Women of color do not have great mortality rates when it comes to medical intervention, especially during pregnancies/child birth. However, uterus perforation during an abortion only occurs at a rate of .3%, so I'm part of a medical anomaly (it isn't an anomaly at all, she just fucked up). Beyond that, women of color, specifically black women are more likely to suffer from medical racism during aftercare. One of the biggest glaring problems being that black women are percieved to have a high pain threshold, something a lot of people lack.

Since this experience, which is missing a lot of detail, I've gone in an out of depressive mania. Which, to say the least, I can handle because I've dealt with it for years. What I can't handle are commercials, or even cherub faces in person, or the fact that my step-sister announced her pregnancy to our parents on mother's day. I can't handle the notifications of memories from my pictures that spotlight some of the photos I took during my pregnancy. I can't handle that my neighbors had just moved in and had just given birth right before being released from the hospital. Movie montages about children growing up making lumps swell in my throat. For the first few weeks I would wake up screaming, or crying, or begging whoever not to take my baby from me. I tried to cope with sex that I couldn't realistically have because I was healing. I took up smoking cigarettes again because it is the only thing I could physically feel relax my incision area. My daughter, who is 9 years old, asks me how I'm doing when I don't realize I'm zoned out and crying.

Overall, I wish they would have let me die. It isn't like I haven't tried to kill myself before and I always secretly hoped I'd find a way to just go peacefully. Of all my attempts at suicide, the most serious was drinking bleach and all I got from that was minor chemical burn in my esophagus.

Sitting there during my last follow up, knowing damn well I wasn't going to get good news, I asked the doctor who saved my uterus and life if I could safely get pregnant. I was told by another I could have a child, but it would most likely be harrowing because my uterus wouldn't be able to house a full term fetus and they would most like be born premature. There was also another possibility she kept from me, which my doctor with a penchant for being very frank said: "would end up taking my uterus or almost killing me."

Word for word: if I get pregnant, my uterus would rupture at the healed incision.

And what, what am I supposed to think or feel now that my worst fear finally materialized? I'm realistically mad at myself for materializing my greatest fear. I also hate myself for being so upset at something I caused because I know others are in my situation for reasons beyond their control.

I thought writing this would make me feel better, would make it so I wouldn't have to mentally relive it, but I just feel worse. My partner lost his job because he took a leave of absence to take care of me and that's to say nothing of him taking time off at the beginning of the year because he needed brain surgery. The job I had interviewed for earlier in the week kept my position open, but on returning to work found I couldn't keep my anxiety to a minimum and eventually asked for leave of absence. So now, we are struggling financially and I blame myself for that too, which I know I shouldn't.

I can't begin to explain how unsure and confused I feel every day. Some times I find myself pacing or walking around and I don't even know what I'm doing. Hearing or seeing emergency vehicles makes me panic. I've had to force myself to look down during driving because I'm so fucking scared.

Idk, I'm sorry to whoever is reading this. I just needed to vent.

[alarawriting]

52 Project #6: Birds

(I am not 100% positive that this is a story per se, but it’s as much of a story as China Mieville’s “The New Death” and other such “new weird” stories, so... here you go.)

***

One day all the men in the world woke up to find that they had been turned into birds.

It began in New Zealand, where a day is first born on the planet Earth. By the time that women were waking and going into hysterics because the men and older boys in their lives had all turned into birds, the men of Central Asia, India, and the middle of Russia had already gone to bed. It was late enough in Europe that many men were getting ready for bed; a large number of them missed the warnings. Not that the warnings helped; men who tried to stay awake all night stayed human, but sooner or later, they all had to sleep.

In Western Europe and the Americas, there was an idea that maybe if someone would keep waking a man up, he wouldn’t turn into a bird, so many women kept watch by their husbands’ bedsides. It didn’t help. No one was able to see the transformation; they’d blink and a human lying in bed would suddenly be a bird. Even with high speed cameras, it proved impossible to catch the transformation. One frame, human man; next frame, bird. And they were many different kinds of birds – pigeons and roosters and peacocks, ostriches and starlings and falcons, flamingos and penguins and seagulls. Practically every kind of bird you can imagine, including some extinct birds – at least two men became dodos and one became a passenger pigeon.

Fortunately, it turned out that the birds could still talk, and sounded exactly like the men they used to be. This was helpful when linking birds to their former identities, because of course, none of them matched the pictures on their ID cards. It took a little bit longer to convince everyone, closer to a week, but eventually it was proven that the birds all retained every aspect of their former intelligence and personality.

Birds argued that this meant nothing should change significantly; birds could still go to work at their old jobs. This was true of birds who worked in banks and in IT and in management, for the most part, but any jobs that required physical strength, dexterity, or simply having a human-sized body? Birds couldn’t do those jobs. So for a while there was a severe shortage of plumbers, electricians, construction workers, garbage collectors, and bus drivers. Some New York city pigeons argued that if people with no legs could drive cars, surely adaptive equipment could be built to let pigeons drive the buses, but it was easier to get women to do the job than to build such equipment. Birds either lost their jobs entirely in those kinds of industries, or were kept on the payroll to teach women how to do what they had been doing when they were men.

For a while it was thought that there were occasional anomalies – men who didn’t turn into birds, women who did – and this gave people some idea that the situation could be reversed, but this proved to be a false hope. To a man, everyone who didn’t turn into a bird was not in fact a man; anyone with a penis who didn’t turn into a bird was either a trans woman or a nonbinary person. Likewise, trans men did turn into birds – male ones. All the birds were physiologically male even if they had seemed to be women when they were human. This was a stressful situation to be sure, since all the trans women had just been forcibly outed, but on the other hand, it was fairly good evidence for their contention that yes, they really were women, that whatever force had transformed the men hadn’t touched them.

After an initial difficult adjustment period, birds who’d been men were soon flying, or in the case of penguins, swimming. Some domestic geese and roosters, too heavy to fly, hit the gym to train their wings and lose weight. Personal trainers who were now birds devised regimens that other birds could follow, to strengthen their wings, and personal trainers who were still women helped birds to do the regimens, since there weren’t yet gym machines designed for birds. Birds discovered, to general happiness on their part, that whatever special ability the bird they had transformed into had, they now had it. So pigeons could always find their way home, and roosters could crow. Roosters in fact were very, very fond of crowing. Owls could see very well in the dark and eagles could see tremendous distances and parrots could imitate any sound they heard and pelicans could stuff their beak full of whatever they wanted to carry.

In addition, the birds they’d become seemed to have some connection to the personality they’d had as men. Men who’d thought there was no place like home became pigeons. Men who’d been models or actors who’d loved to show off their handsome bodies became peacocks. Men who were short and aggressive and always on the go became hummingbirds. The species was usually appropriate to the location as well; birds of wild, native species always turned out to be living in the area that species was native to. Temperature and environment seemed to also be a factor; the only men who turned into penguins had been living in cold places, near water. Since the entire Southern Hemisphere was having winter at the time, this might have resulted in a disproportionate number of penguins in Africa and South America, but it was more common for birds who weren’t penguins, who’d loved Polar Bear Challenges and skiing and cold weather sports, to regret the fact that they weren’t penguins because it was too hot for penguins where they lived when the change came, than for penguins to regret their penguin identity.

This was all quite nice and a boon for the birds, whose lives had been so very disrupted by their transformation, and many argued that in fact they had the far better deal than the women who’d gotten to keep their humanity; they had their intelligence and their speech but they could also fly. How awesome was that? Women generally responded to such comments either with amused tolerance, or with an obscene gesture that involved the use of an opposable thumb, because of course that was the main thing the birds had lost. Many bird talons were very dexterous and had opposable thumbs, but they were feet, and the birds couldn’t use them for the same tasks that had been easy for hands. Deaf birds were devastated; by losing their hands, they’d lost speech. They could type notes to their wives or mothers or other birds in their life, but it wasn’t the same. Groups of deaf people, both birds and women, gathered to discuss and work out signs that birds could make, but this was essentially telling birds that they needed to learn an entirely new language to translate their own into.

Plus, there were certain biological realities that had upended the order of things that humans had grown to expect. Now, aside from a few ostriches, cassowaries, emus and other very large birds, every human woman was bigger than most of the birds. Birds who’d been abusive men found themselves in cages, and when policewomen and policebirds came to do wellness checks and investigate why a certain bird hadn’t been seen in a long time, those cages often ended up in closets or the basement or the attic, and were never found by the police.

It wasn’t all that suspicious. Many birds, especially ones who’d lost their jobs, had decided to give up on running the human rat race, and had abandoned their human families and flown off with a flock of like-minded birds, usually of similar species. Why not? Birds could forage for food on their own – they didn’t need to go grocery shopping. Why did they need money, or jobs? They could live like the wild birds did!

A lot of these came back, injured by predators or far too thin, because they didn’t know nearly as much about getting the available food as the never-human birds did.

Many birds died in the early days – cancer patients couldn’t get chemo that would work on birds, but they still had cancer. Men who’d needed open heart surgery became birds too small for anyone to safely operate on. Also, there weren’t nearly enough trained bird doctors. Most veterinarians knew dogs and cats; bird specialties were rare. And obviously, human doctors knew nothing about birds. So there was a massive shortage of doctors who could do anything about the problems birds suffered, and half of the few doctors there were, were birds themselves.

Birds who were vets with a specialty in birds were shadowed by women who were vets, and sometimes women who were human doctors, trying to learn all they could about care for birds. Women and birds in veterinary colleges elected to learn about birds, and the same professors who taught bird specialties to veterinarians were called in to teach med students. Most countries allocated huge amounts of money to getting bird doctors trained up and ready as soon as possible.

The balance of power shifted. In the United States, several female senators argued that birds had no business being allowed to make laws for humans. What if all they did was vote for free birdseed and the extermination of cats? The bird senators argued that the United States was now a country for both humans and birds, and needed to be represented by both. The women pointed out that there were far, far too few women for that to make sense; birds should represent birds and women should represent women, and since every senator here had been voted for by humans, and now only women were humans, all the existing seats in the Senate should be taken by women, and birds could go have their own Senate. Some human senators from states where gun rights were important showed up to the senate exercising their Second Amendment rights to carry weapons… which, of course, birds could not do. In response, a falcon insisted on reading the entire script of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds into the senatorial record. In the end it was decided that the states would vote on a constitutional amendment to set aside one seat per state for a bird and one for a woman, and in the meantime, a lot of senatorial birds got female aides or proteges to speak for them in the Senate, so anything the bird wanted to say went through the human first.

Many other countries went through similar experiences. In countries where women had been virtually or entirely shut out of power completely, birds found that their expertise in rule was not desired, thank you, and many, many birds found themselves in birdcages. Large numbers of women objected to this, arguing that if it was the will of God for women to rule, God would have already allowed this. Other women retorted that what better evidence did you need that God wanted women to run things than that God had turned all the men into birds? More egalitarian countries generally had more peaceful agreements between women and birds as to how to split up leadership roles.

The President of the United States – the new one; the old one had been tragically killed when he’d transformed into a house wren, a very small bird with a very loud mouth, and the First Lady had accidentally rolled over on him in the middle of the night – agreed to abdicate in favor of the Speaker of the House, who was a woman, if the House would pass an emergency resolution that there would be a new election as soon as possible and that birds and women should both be explicitly authorized to vote for any candidate of either type, bird or woman. Birds were suddenly very much in favor of gun control, and while many women had been in favor of total freedom to use guns, more women in general favored gun control as well, so the United States finally got sensible gun laws.

In Great Britain there was a kerfluffle – Queen Elizabeth was ancient and her heir was a bird. It was argued that birds, no longer being human, could not possibly still be part of the royal bloodline. Birds, of course, argued against this proposition, and women in Great Britain didn’t generally have guns. They did, however, have rocks. It turned out that the remarkable human ability to throw rocks was now a problem for birds. Her Majesty ended the conflict by demanding that Parliament pass an emergency amendment allowing birds to serve as King so long as there was a woman of sufficient rank and bloodline standing as his Queen.

Of course, all of this was going to be moot very soon if humanity didn’t confront the elephant in the room – sex and reproduction.

The sperm banks were going to deplete within a generation. Trans women and nonbinary people born with penises could make a great deal of money selling sperm, if they still had the equipment to make it with, because women still wanted children. Immediately after the change it had seemed that perhaps the human race would be spared after this generation, because baby boys hadn’t transformed – boys as old as 4 had remained human. However, within two weeks, the news went around the globe that a little boy had just turned into a bird, and it continued to be the case that as boys aged, they would transform into birds too. The population of humans who still had testicles that worked was very, very small, and scientists warned that there would be unacceptably high risks of massive interbreeding if every cis woman who wanted a baby was buying sperm from a trans woman. Fertility experts worked day and night on finding a way to either cause a somatic cell in vitro to undergo meiosis, or to permit two eggs to be merged into a viable zygote.

Birds had lost all sexual interest in human woman. Many birds still had lingering romantic feelings for the women they had loved, but it wasn’t sexual. Instead, they were sexually attracted to other birds of their species. The gay and bi birds were widely considered to have gotten the best of it, since while many male-male couples were broken up by the two birds being of different species, at least some got to be two birds of the same kind, and they could continue to be lovers. And some couples made it work even when they were different species of bird. Obviously, nearly every single heterosexual couple – with a few kinky exceptions – lost their sex lives completely. Birds who’d been straight men would mate with never-human birds, and while many women, and some birds, argued that this was bestiality and it was repulsive and should be against the law, most birds felt that it was necessary. What other options did they have?

Meanwhile the sex industry was turned upside down. Prostitutes and porn stars and other sex workers suddenly had no clients interested in what they had to sell. But they knew the truth – human women were horny, and desperate for sexual contact with human men, which could no longer happen. Straight-up porn of the wham bam thank you ma’am type was not appealing to most women; whether having been raised to think Good Girls Don’t, or having some biological predilection, none could say, but the truth remained that women wanted their porn in context, with men who had strong emotional bonds with the people they were ostensibly fucking. Lesbians had no trouble finding porn in the new world, but it was heterosexual women who were starved for sexual attention, and they were the new big market.

Different strategies for creating porn with men in it were used. Some dead men or former men were resurrected on film by the miracles of CGI. Women with strap-ons could be rotoscoped into handsome men. The biggest new market, however, was animation. Birds still sounded like men – their voices tended to be tinny, lacking the full timbre of a human voice, but this could be fixed by a good sound mixer – so voice acting became a very popular profession for birds. Some birds went into doing phone sex; they weren’t interested in human women anymore but they were interested in fat paychecks, and they remembered what it had been like well enough to act.

Similar transformations encompassed Hollywood and in fact the entire entertainment industry. Rock stars who’d been famed for their voices could still sing, but they couldn’t play guitar, or keyboards – some birds managed to keep up with drums – so birds who could sing ended up making albums with women who could play instruments, and the stars who’d been famous for their virtuoso skills with their instruments… either went into singing also, learned how to program synthesizers to sound like the instruments they’d once played, or took advantage of their ability to mimic noises to be their own instrument, singing like a bird instead of like a human. Or left music entirely. Theatre, for the most part, dressed up women to play the parts of men, although some more avant-garde productions kept birds in some important roles. Movies and TV became dominated by CGI and traditional or computer-assisted animation, although some television shows set in supposedly modern times just rolled with it and incorporated the bird transformation into their storylines, so they could keep their bird actors.

Things settled down after it had been a year or so since the transformation. Birds still worked in entertainment and in professions where their minds were their greatest assets – writers, professors, researchers, programmers – and in most countries, were guaranteed all the legal rights they’d had as humans, though some countries had adopted new rules regarding bird representation in their government. Women did everything else. This left a lot of unemployed birds – they couldn’t all do phone sex – and many of these either opted out of the human race, joining in flocks of like-minded birds, or they stayed in their homes all day, surfed YouTube, and played video games with controllers that had been designed for birds.

It was around that time when scientists made a tremendous breakthrough. Sperm from birds, if collected rather than deposited into another bird’s cloaca, would, after two or three days in a refrigerator, spontaneously transform into human sperm. The human race was saved. Birds still didn’t have any sexual interest in human women, but many birds were definitely interested in the ability to father human children; their bird children were ordinary never-human birds, unable to speak. Fortunately, birds who’d been romantically interested in women back when they were men were often still romantically interested in women, and women found that they were entirely capable of falling in love with birds. For sexual release, birds needed to be with birds and women usually turned either to vibrators or to women (or sometimes nonbinary people with penises, but many of those felt uncomfortable in relationships with average women, feeling that most women saw them as men even though they weren’t), but women could pet birds, and birds could preen women’s hair, and birds and women could still join finances and households and raise children together.

The killing of birds was outlawed almost everywhere, since how could you tell the difference between a never-human bird and a bird who was just tongue-tied? Some argued that the killing of female birds should still be okay, but others pointed out that birds could father never-human female birds, and that even though their children couldn’t talk and had animal intelligence, they still loved them. The poultry industry was devastated. People discovered that lizards tasted just like chicken, and soon breeding lizards for food was a new norm. Unfertilized eggs were still considered edible, so hens were still raised for eggs, but never-human roosters were often dumped in the woods because they couldn’t be killed and they weren’t useful to egg producing farms. They usually ended up feeding some creature who wasn’t a human. Sometimes those creatures were formerly human birds of prey like falcons or eagles, who knew it was illegal to feed on other birds, but knew they’d probably get away with it because no one cared about the never-human roosters except some animal rights activists. Roosters who had been human were not legally allowed near the egg farms; no one wanted them to mate with hens and perhaps produce rooster chicks who’d eventually be abandoned in the woods. It was, however, perfectly legal for a rooster to buy hens and keep them in a coop at his home, as long as he understood that he had the obligation to protect and provide for any offspring from such a union.

Eggs being breakable by rooster beaks, very few roosters actually ended up having to support chicks of their own.

Before long, things had settled down into a new normal. “People” now consisted of human women (and non-binary people, but they were a small enough part of the whole that sadly, people kept forgetting they existed) and talking birds. In addition to having a birthday, boys got to celebrate their bird-day, the anniversary of their bird transformation, and All Birds��� Day – the anniversary of the day the world changed -- was an international holiday. Girls and non-binary children – basically, all the kids who remained human – would study “humanity” between the ages of five and seven in preparation for their “confirmation”, an official recognition of their human status. While humanities, plural, had once meant the study of art, literature, history and languages, “humanity” was a class aimed at children that focused on human history (with rather more emphasis on the contributions of women than their parents remembered from their schooldays), and at teaching skills that were specific to being human, or at least, to not being birds. Throwing balls. Playing musical instruments. Endurance running. In rural areas, shooting a gun. In coastal areas, swimming. This wasn’t technically unique to humans – penguins could swim underwater, and many birds could swim on the surface – but it was true that most birds couldn’t do it. Sometime between a human child’s seventh and eighth birthdays, they would usually have their confirmation ceremony, affirmatively declaring their humanity, and then they’d get to celebrate their “human-day” like the boys got bird-days.

This was done as late as it was because of the trans boys. Most trans boys didn’t change as young as the cis boys, but almost all of them had changed by the age of seven. A rare few wouldn’t change until they were teenagers; this was thought to be the result of the hormones of puberty hitting the brain and finalizing the child’s gender. This didn’t happen the other way around; birds had much shorter childhoods than humans, so little boys would always change into adolescent birds. The lifespan of formerly-human birds seemed to equal to the lifespan of humans, not the species they’d turned into – at least, so far, although at this point no one could yet tell if maybe the parrots might have been shortchanged a bit -- but the boys got through adolescence and into physical adulthood long before their skills at navigating civilization were solid. High speed cameras left focused on apparent boys successfully, once or twice, caught a moment where a child became a bird and then immediately turned back into a human, and after this they were always certain that whatever they were, they weren’t boys, even if they’d seemed to identify as boys previously. So trans girls and nonbinary children with penises were never birds for longer than half a second, because when they changed into birds, the hormones that finalized their gender were already present and said that they weren’t male. However, these cases were very, very rare – in general, a child of seven was either a bird or a human and would remain so for the rest of their lives.

It was somewhat more than two years after the transformation when a new phenomenon was discovered. Fledgling birds would wander into cities or other human settlements, go to sleep on the ground even if they were a bird species that normally roosted up high, and then they’d turn into toddler girls. Invariably, when it was possible to figure out where they’d come from, it turned out they were the result of formerly-human birds mating with the female offspring of other formerly-human birds, so in a sense, these birds were three-quarters human to start with. It didn’t seem to happen to all of them – in a clutch of four eggs, all of which hatched female, maybe one would be strongly attracted to humans, and the ground, and would then turn into a human child. Generally, when birds saw female fledglings on the ground near human habitation, they would bring it to the attention of women, who would often scoop up the bird and keep her in a human crib for a while. If she didn’t change, she’d eventually fly off. These bird-girls didn’t know human speech, obviously, when they first transformed, but they caught up and were usually fully verbal to the expected level for their development after a year or so. They tended to be more independent than human children of the same apparent age, but also very sociable, craving the presence of humans. Some longed to fly and begged their adopted mothers for hang gliders and zip lines; some were very happy with being grounded. Egg-clutch-sisters of the human bird-girls remained non-human birds, unable to talk, but were often far more intelligent than their species would normally suggest, as were their brothers.

Humans worried about what might be happening out in wilderness where humans rarely went, and where a fledgling bird would have a hard time finding a human habitation, but no one ever found a child, alive or dead, in those circumstances. Perhaps whatever compelled the bird-girls to seek the ground and the presence of humans wouldn’t allow them to transform if they couldn’t find those things.

Life returned to normal. Bird boys went to school beside human girls. (And nonbinary children. They weren’t common, but they existed in large enough numbers that there was usually at least one in a normal-sized school at any given time.) Boys who couldn’t find a profession that was open to birds that they would enjoy would graduate and then, often, fly off to spend a few years in semi-wild flocks of formerly human birds. Very few girls ever had trouble finding a job, given that all the jobs that birds could no longer do fell on them. Both were encouraged to get a good education to ensure they could get a job they actually wanted.

It was very useful for humans and birds to live together, if the bird wanted to live as part of civilization and have access to internet, television and refrigerators for their bird food. Birds and humans could pool their income, raise children together, and compensate for each other’s species-based inabilities; among the things birds could do that humans could not were environmentally friendly bug extermination (many birds loved to eat bugs, and with human intelligence, it wasn’t hard for them to seek out and destroy anthills and wasp nests), alerts for potential dangers (bird hearing and eyesight were often better than human, and prey birds, with eyes on either side of their heads, could see a wider range than humans with their stereoscopic vision), and early detection of noxious gas (when a bird in your house complains that he’s dizzy, you grab him and run.) And of course there were many, many things that the women could do with their height, strength and opposable thumbs, that the birds could not. Because of these advantages, and because birds and humans could be romantically attracted to each other, birds and humans began to date, just as they had when the birds were men, but without any expectation that they would have sex (aside from formerly mentioned extremely kinky couples.)

Birds who resented the lack of opposable thumbs or human size learned to pilot robot drones that had such things; humans who resented the lack of flight took up ballooning, small aircraft piloting, hang gliding, bungee jumping, and every other thing that humans had always done to get as close to flight as they could. Oddly enough, almost everyone was happy with what they were. Little boys would eagerly share with their preschool playmates what sort of bird they hoped to be, but whatever they got, they usually found they were satisfied; little girls might initially be upset that their playmates got to be birds and they didn’t, but by a girl’s confirmation she’d been taught all the advantages of being human and usually thought it best that that was what she was. Birds and humans might be somewhat resentful of the other’s abilities, but in the end most of them agreed they wouldn’t really want it any other way.

Aside from the deaf birds, who had to completely reinvent sign language for talons and wings, accommodating disabled humans’ needs became much, much easier in a world where companies and governments had to accommodate birds of various sizes, abilities and needs; at least usually the disabled humans were roughly within the same size and shape range, in comparison to the diversity of birds. Racism remained, but was much harder to act on; while white women often continued to be racist to black women, they couldn’t tell what race a given bird had been unless his accent or his speech patterns gave it away, and birds mostly got over racism because they were too busy being prejudiced against other bird species. The idea of discriminating between humans on grounds so tiny as skin tone and hair consistency became ridiculous when you could be a chicken and have to deal with other roosters ranging from tiny gamecocks to giant Oshamu roosters, not to mention, every other bird in the world that humans had turned into. Religions had turned weird because they all had to take into account the concept of a God who’d turned all the men into birds; birds tended to think that God was probably a bird, and women tended to think that God was probably a human and either female or genderless, so most religions split in at least two, notwithstanding the ones that had multiple schisms because birds of different species all wanted to imagine a God that favored their species. Polytheism came back.

Sometimes there were still wars, flocks of birds viciously pecking and slashing at each other in the air while women on the ground shot at each other, and at birds wearing the enemy colors. It didn’t happen as often as it used to, though. Terrorism continued, and even got worse at times, because security measures designed for humans couldn’t keep birds out, but the disaffected young men who had no jobs and no futures, that had usually supplied the backbone of any terrorist movement, just weren’t there anymore. They were out flying in flocks with their friends, enjoying the freedom of the air and hunting for food. And environmentalism became a deadly serious issue; birds were more likely to be negatively impacted by any drastic change to the environment, so most of them were strongly in favor of reigning in the excesses of capitalism and cleaning up the planet. Who wanted to fly in a cloud of smog?

All in all, it was surprising how much better the world built by birds and humans, working together, was than the world that had been before. It was far from perfect, and there were many new problems that hadn’t previously existed – women’s near-universal sexual frustration, birds being unable to get jobs, the high cost of having children in a world where artificial insemination was the only means by which all but a tiny number of the women could get pregnant, plus the phenomenon of birds having ridiculous prejudices against other birds, as well as many others. But other problems that had plagued humanity for centuries turned out to be very easy to solve once all the men were birds. And so the people of Earth stopped looking for a cure; they were happier in the world where half of them were birds than they had been before, overall.

[ill-skillsgard]

The Crimson Cross - Bill Skarsgard

Title: The Crimson Cross

Characters: Bill Skarsgard x ambiguous fem OC

Warning: 18+ horror themes/religious themes

Note: Happy October! I have lots of fun Halloween events planned this year! I wrote this last year as part of my Halloween Special Fic Prompt Challenge. I have since rewritten it and here it is once more! This was based on a few great reader prompts sent in last year! Patreon subscribers got early access to this fic during the month of Smutember! Enjoy!

"I'll stay. I'll stay. You'll be safe. I promise. I'll keep you safe."

"What's this camera for?" I asked.

I watched him set up one last camera on the granite island in the middle of my kitchen. He fastened it to a small, bendable tripod and pointed the lens right at where I was sitting on an Ikea barstool.

"This one is going to be your journal camera, see?" He pointed to a label on the side of it that said journal cam #1. "I would like for you to record some entries with this. Feel free to take it into another room if you want to, although there is good lighting in here. It's just so I can keep a log of everything; including how you feel each day at any given time. You don't have to be thorough with it. Even just a minute or two each day to say how you feel and if you experience any changes. Anything at all. Even if you just want to vent. Whatever you like."

 He turned on the camera and circled to where I was seated. "This is case number seventy-five. The day is October third, two-thousand eighteen. Day one of recording. Now, please state your name and age, and if you could confirm that today is October the third."

 I did as I was told and spoke directly into the camera. I felt a crack of nervousness erupt over my face, but Bill assured me that once I got used to the cameras, it would become second nature. He brought several bags of equipment including a small black leather briefcase that contained various religious relics pressed neatly into red velour slots. There was a place for a small glass decanter of holy water, a crucifix, a rosary, and a bible. When I gazed upon the items in his briefcase, the reality seemed far too stark again.

 "You don't look like a priest," I commented.

 "That's because I'm not a priest. I'm a demonologist."

 "But the church sent you."

 "Yes. I work very closely with the church in town."

 "That must be an interesting career choice. Demonologist? Did you always aspire to become one?"

 Bill's lips pressed together like he was withholding a dark confession and then, with a sigh, he gave voice to what he needed to say to satiate my curiosity. "I wouldn't say I volunteered for this job. It's not something I dreamed of as a kid or anything- exorcising demons and whatnot. I'd say I was chosen for it by a higher power."

 "So you are religious?"

 His eyes settled on me gravely. For a moment, I thought maybe I had offended him, but he sighed and shook his head slowly. "I know there's good in the world and evil. I want to be on the right side when the day of reckoning comes, you know? I'm not a devout Christian, but ma'am, I have seen some things that would make you think twice about what exists beyond this Earthly realm."

 Then it was my turn to grimace with displeasure, for I knew far too well that there were forces of malicious intent. Of course, nobody believed me when I told them that I was being tormented by a spirit that seemed to harbour an abhorrence for me. Several anomalies had occurred that I could not give an explanation to and when I told my close friends and relatives they all had their different theories at the ready, none of them comforting.

 "You must have been sleep-walking."

 "There's always some explanation for those types of things."

 "Maybe it was somebody just playing a prank?"

 "I don't believe in ghosts. I especially don't believe in demons! Come on... It could have been a tremor. They're more common than you'd think!"

 I knew it was none of those things. Not when every mirror in my house had been smashed out, including the tiny circular mirror in my makeup compact. Any reflective surface that I had ever looked at myself in had shattered. At first, I thought maybe it was a slight earthquake overnight, but the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Why would every mirror break and not every glass picture frame? Why would the china teacups in my kitchen remain unscathed? How could it be that the windows remained intact?

 Then one night I heard the voice. It started as a low hum that barely roused me from my slumber but soon climbed octaves until it pierced my eardrums and violently ripped me from sleep. I sat up in bed and listened hard. My friends blamed the sound on Tinnitus, but I had thwarted that theory by going to see a doctor who told me that my hearing was just fine. The sound grew and grew until I couldn't take it, and the moment I covered my ears and closed my eyes, my new bedroom mirror shattered like thin ice.

 Something was angry with me, and I didn't know what to do. That was when I sought help from the church. I hadn't set foot inside a church for nearly two decades, but I was desperate for answers. So desperate that I set aside my morals, bit the bullet and admitted that a spirit was tormenting me. The priest I spoke to didn't question me or suggest that perhaps I needed to see a psychologist. He believed me immediately and referred me directly to Bill; the resident demonologist who lived in the outskirts of town.

 The entire process seemed too easy, and before I knew it, Bill had come to my house to survey the scene, set up cameras and to smear every room with holy water while I waited outside for him to finish up. I stood on the front lawn in my boots and a denim jacket to keep me warm in the brisk morning of early Autumn. He was in there for nearly an hour after setting everything up and came out with all of his bags and the small briefcase containing his religious talismans. 

 He grinned politely at me as he approached, trudging through the damp grass and newly fallen leaves to where I was standing with my arms crossed over my chest.

 "I left my card next to the journal camera in case you need to call me. I'm usually available at any time but if you miss me, leave me a message, and I'll get back to you."

 "All right. Well, I'm very grateful for everything. I wasn't expecting to find help so easily."

 "I understand what it's like to be in this type of situation. Most people try to rationalize or tack on any number of explanations until it becomes too late."

 "Too late?"

 Bill shifted uncomfortably from side to side. He wore a long black wool coat and leather gloves that squeaked when he adjusted his grip on the briefcase handle. "There's a reason why the church has hired me. Cases like these have reached an all-time high. I don't want to scare you though so I'll spare you the details."

 "No... Please. I want to know," I urged.

 "Let's say the last case I had, number seventy-four... They waited too long to contact anybody. There was," Bill sighed, his breath turning to vapour in the fresh air. "There was an accident. It's still under investigation. I can't exactly say what it was because I still don't know myself. All I can say is that it was good of you to reach out as soon as you did. The success rate of banishment is higher in the early stages."

 "Early stages?"

 "I could talk for hours about each case and how it differs from the last. No two have been the same, so I don't want to worry you. Honestly. You will be fine."

 "No offence, but nothing you are saying to me is providing any comfort. Am I going to die? Does this spirit want me dead?"

 "This is why I don't like answering too many questions. It's like looking up your symptoms online. You're going to settle on the first drastic theory that you are in danger and it will consume you. I want you to maintain a clear head. This always works better if you're able to stay level. It's harder to penetrate a strong mind than a weak one, and you don't strike me as weak-minded."

 The strange compliment made me smirk, but I remained shaken to the core from everything that had transpired. Bill set down the duffle bag he had brought that housed his camera equipment and stuck out his gloved hand for me to shake.

 "Like I said... If you need anything at all, my card is on your counter. You can call text or e-mail me. Whatever you like. I'll be back in a week to go over the footage and to assess the house again. Oh. Also, don't be alarmed when you see your bedroom door. It's just a precaution."

 Bill nodded curtly, picked up the duffle bag and left after loading it all into the trunk of his car. I saw him off with a wave, and once he pulled out and drove away, I made my way back inside.

 There was a camera installed in each room of the house and one pointing down the hallway. When I went upstairs, I stopped abruptly and gazed down the hall at a crude red cross painted on my bedroom door. I scoffed as I approached it, shocked but not entirely surprised to see it. Bill had painted a huge red cross on my door. The closer I got, the quicker it became evident that he hadn't used regular paint to mark it. The cross drawn in blood dribbled down towards the floor, drying in some spots and still wet in others. With the tip of my index finger, I touched the right arm of the cross and rubbed it over my thumb. When I smelled it, my gut churned from the acrid stench of some pitiful beast's blood.

 ~*~

 "So this is the first morning that I am recording... I guess this is my journal. Bill told me to say how I'm feeling, how the night went, whether I experienced any changes or not and I have to say that despite there being a huge, bloody red cross on my bedroom door, I slept like a baby! No noises. No broken glass or windows. Just nightmares of Bill slathering God knows whose blood on my newly painted door. So thank you for that, Bill. That is truly disgusting," I laughed.

 "Today I'm going out for a while into town to pick up some groceries and things, probably going to go to the gym. Just boring everyday stuff, I guess I'll let you know about it tomorrow when I make my next entry. Um, goodbye, I guess?"

 The day went on as normal as any other day. I completed all of my errands, and when I got home, I made myself dinner and sat down to watch TV. After all of the stress, I tried to take my mind off the cameras pointed at me. It was strange to know but easy to forget after a while.

 A soft dusting of fuzz came over the TV screen and then flickered back to normal. I waited for it to happen again and when it didn't, I shook my head. Then it happened again, quicker this time. The interference skewed the image of the popular talk-show host, and the sound blipped.

 "Goodbye, I guess?"

 I put down my phone and looked behind me. 

 "Goodbye, I guess?" It repeated.

 Whipping around, I looked back into the kitchen instinctively to see if something was amiss. The television went grey and fuzzy, but I could still see the images from the show I was watching only the sound was off, and I swore I heard my voice.

 "Huge, bloody red cross. Goodbye."

 The plunge my heart took nearly stole my breath, and I jumped up on the couch as though the ground was going to swallow me whole.

 "Is this a joke?" I called out.

 Scrambling from the couch, I went to the corner of the living room to peer at the camera mounted to the ceiling. "If this is some joke, I am seriously not laughing! Why would you fuck with me like this?"

 I knew that nobody was playing a joke on me, and the ringing of terror shook my insides and threatened to make bile rise from my stomach. 

 "Huge, bloody red cross. Huge, bloody red cross. HUGE BLOODY RED CROSS!" The words boomed through the speakers of my surround sound system until the television turned itself off with an electric crackle, leaving me in a silence that was just as horrific as the words that screamed at me.

 I ran to the kitchen and found Bill's card to dial his number as quickly as my fingers would allow. I had to backspace several times because I couldn't type the numbers correctly with hands shaking. When I finally had it, I pressed send and held the phone up to my ear, quietly begging for Bill to answer. It was late, and I half expected to get his voicemail, but he picked up, and I let out the breath clenched up in my lungs.

 "Hello?"

 "Bill! It's me. Please. Something is happening. I'm scared."

 "What? What is happening?"

 "I don't know! I don't know!" I yelled. "My voice... My voice started playing on the TV!"

 "What do you mean?"

 "I don't know! Please! I don't know. I can't be here. Please, you have to fix this."

 "No, don't leave. Do not leave the house. Don't bend to its will. You have to remain there."

 "I can't!" I began to cry. "I'm scared. It was yelling... Shrieking! I don't know how it had my voice, but it was my voice, and it was repeating what I said this morning!"

 Bill grunted tiredly. Any other time I would have felt terrible for calling somebody so late, but I was terrified of what would happen if I remained alone in my house.

 "Listen to me. Stay where you are. Do not leave! I'm on my way over right now. I'll be there in a few minutes."

 He hung up the phone, and I stared blankly at the screen until it timed out and went black. As I waited, I turned on every light in the house and stood in the middle of my kitchen with a chef's knife in hand. I knew it was silly but having a weapon with me made me feel slightly safer, especially when the kitchen lights started flickering.

 "Get out of my house, whatever you are! Spirit... Demon... You are not welcome here!" I yelled.

 The light fixture above the kitchen island quivered with protest, and I cowered up against a wall, shielding my face with my arm, knife still poised in my hand. 

 "Get out! You don't belong here! Go fuck with somebody else!"

 The television turned on again only it didn't come back to the channel I had been watching. Instead, it was a feed of me sitting at the kitchen island, looking into the journal camera with a stupid grin on my bare face.

 "Huge, bloody red cross... Just nightmares. Goodbye, I guess. Just nightmares. Nightmares. Bloody red cross. Blood. Goodbye."

 "STOP! STOP IT!" I screamed.

 "Bloody red. Nightmares. Goodbye. Goodbye. Bloody red cross."

 The video played over on a loop until the screen went grey and sparkled with fuzz-- the image of me distorting and the sound of my voice coming out lower and louder than before.

 "BLOODY RED, BLOODY RED, BLOODY RED!"

 I couldn't take the torture anymore. I ran into the living room, dropped to my knees hard enough to burn against the carpet and pulled the entire power bar from the outlet, effectively silencing the TV and all of the speakers it played through. Tears boiled in my eyes and I cried on the floor clutching the chef's knife in one hand and my chest with the other.

 The knock on my door made me yelp, and I swivelled my body around as Bill barged in through the front door. He was white as a ghost in the face, and when he found me on my knees next to the TV, he turned even paler.

 "Are you okay?" He approached, kneeling to grasp my shoulders.

 "I can't stay here," I blubbered through tears and snot.

 "Listen to me... Listen to me! Please. I know you're scared, but you have to stay right here."

 "I don't want to! Don't make me!"

 "I'll stay here with you if that's what it takes. However, you cannot flee."

 "I'm losing my mind."

 "You're not losing your mind. I promise. Hey... Hey! Look at me," Bill tipped my chin up and gazed upon my wet, contorted face.

 He wiped the tears from my cheeks with two thumbs but as soon as he did more salty hot liquid ran down to replace what he had just cleared away. Bill looked upon my face with pity and hugged me close. I whimpered into the collar of his shirt as he hushed me and began to rock me back and forth.

 "I'll stay. I'll stay. You'll be safe. I promise. I'll keep you safe."

 ~*~

 Bill tried to insist that I sleep in my bedroom and that he would sleep on the living room couch, but I could not be convinced to stay the night without the presence of another person in the house. After some arguing, we reached a verdict. I would sleep on the couch, and Bill would stay near me on the floor on top of a sleeping bag. I felt silly to have made a fully grown man sleep on the floor beside me, but without someone there, I would have never been able to close my eyes for more than what it took to blink.

 The next morning I woke up to the smell of coffee and cooking. I rose from the couch, no doubt looking frightful with my hair mussed and a night's worth of crust built up in the corners of my eyes.

 "Good morning," Bill said as he approached with a mug of steaming coffee.

 I accepted the mug with a gracious nod though I said nothing. Bill stood tall above me and watched as I took a small sip of the piping hot liquid, grimacing when I realized it was still far too warm to consume.

 "Easy there. I just made it," he warned after the fact.

 I went to set the mug down on the coffee table, but I soon realized that we had moved it to the other side of the room so that Bill could sleep parallel to me on the carpet. He watched as I struggled to keep hold of the scalding cup and simpered softly before taking it from my hands again. 

 "Here, I'll just put this back over here, and you can have it in a minute. Hope you don't mind I've taken the liberty of making breakfast. I'm one of those people that needs to eat right after waking up, and I didn't want to leave you. I also didn't want to wake you either."

 "That's okay," my voice cracked.

 "How are you feeling this morning?" He asked as though reminding me of the night's events was the last thing he wanted to do.

 I shrugged my shoulders, and one strap of my tank top came down with it. Bill's lips cocked for a moment, and he reached, plucked the strap and shifted it back into place. 

 "Well, why don't you go hop in the shower or do whatever it is you need to do in the morning, and by the time you finish up, breakfast should be ready."

 "Okay. Thanks," I whispered before clearing my throat. "Thanks for coming. I know you didn't have to."

 "Well... You're kind of my problem. You're my case. And I told you that you could call me at any time."

 "I know but... I don't know. I feel stupid."

 "Don't feel stupid. I'm here for you. As of right now, you're my main priority."

 I washed, dressed and towelled my damp hair before joining Bill in the kitchen again. He set down a plate of eggs, potatoes, and toast for me and I thanked him as genuinely as possible. It had been a long time since somebody had made me a meal, and when I watched him bustle around my kitchen, I felt ten times safer. Maybe it was his height or the positive way he walked, but I somehow felt like Bill was more than qualified enough to protect me. I didn't know hardly a thing about him except that his voice was comforting and having him there made me almost forget about the horrible night I'd had.

 After we finished eating and he took the dishes away, Bill turned on the journal camera much to my dismay.

 "Please... I don't want to. Not after last night," I shied away.

 "I need a log for my records. It's okay. You don't have to look into the lens. Just look at me instead. Pretend you're telling me. Pretend I'm your journal. Just ignore the camera."

 With a sigh, I relented and began to tell him how I felt about what had transpired the night before.

 "So last night, something freaky happened. I was watching TV, and suddenly a voice came over that didn't belong. It was my voice, but it sounded. I don't know. I can't quite describe it. All I can say is that it sounded off. It kept repeating to me what I had said in the morning during my first log. It kept saying bloody, red cross like it was angry with me or something. The TV started going fuzzy, and then the words just started booming over all the speakers. That's when I called Bill," I paused to nod at the man standing behind the camera. "He came over and, of course, as soon as he entered everything stopped. So I made him stay the night because I was scared as hell. Now here we are. Bill just made breakfast, and now we're sitting here enjoying our coffee."

 "Good, that's good," Bill said with a smile. "Anything else?"

 "Oh... Yeah, and I guess I feel a little bit better only because Bill is here. Honestly, If it weren't for him, I would have been ten counties over by now."

 "But we're going to stay here and fight on, aren't we?" Bill asked.

 I nodded before sipping my coffee again. "We're going to stay here and fight."

 "Because you promised me that you would stay, right?"

 Rolling my eyes, I laughed, "because I promised Bill that I wouldn't leave."

 When he powered down the camera, he looked at me with an uneasy smile. "Well, I guess I should get going. I have some things I need to do today-"

 "You're leaving?" I asked incredulously before shaking my head.

 Of course, he was leaving. It would have been foolish for me to think that he would drop everything to accompany me, but when I looked at him again, I didn't want to spend another night alone. The fear that I had felt so potently in my chest returned, and tears threatened to make another appearance down my cheeks.

 "Well, yeah. I don't have any clean clothes here, and I have some work to do."

 He saw how I bit my lip and worried with my fingers picking at the underside of my nails. 

 "I can come back after," he offered.

 "Would you? Oh. No. I shouldn't. I guess I shouldn't bother you again. Sorry. I know it's dumb of me to think-"

 "How about I come back later tonight to check up on you?"

 I nodded, relieved as could be. "Okay. That's... Good. That's fine."

 Bill smirked at me. "I'll bring an air mattress."

 Then it was my turn to smirk.

 ~*~

 Bill kept his promise and showed up at the door with a gym bag and a rolled-up air mattress. Greeting him at the door felt like the beginning of a fun sleepover, but I couldn't kid myself for long. He was there solely for my protection; even if we only make popcorn and chatted about things that were irrelevant to my case. We blew up the mattress, but it remained untouched as Bill sat beside me on the couch with a laptop open, going over some of the footage from the night before. I told him that I didn't want to look, but every once in awhile, I would peer over to see what he was doing.

 When he finished with his work, he folded his small laptop and stowed it away in the bag brought with him. I saw that he had a change of clothes and a couple of pairs of socks in the gym bag and suddenly felt terrible again for insisting he stay with me. After all, he was an adult with his own life and priorities, and I was nearly a stranger to him.

 "You don't have to stay the night again. I know it's not necessary."

 "Don't be silly. I told you a hundred times. It's fine. Plus, I would rather stay to make sure that you don't flee the country or something."

 "I won't."

 "I know but... Trust me. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. You're my top priority."

 "Do you even get paid to do this?" I asked him.

 "The church pays me, but like I said before... I didn't exactly volunteer myself to this cause. It's more of an obligation."

 "That doesn't sound pleasant at all," I said with a grimace.

 Bill sighed deeply and reached out to touch the back of my palm softly, "I can at least find solace in knowing I've helped those that cannot help themselves."

 When I thought that he would take his hand away, I was mistaken. Bill only moved closer to me on the couch and grasped my hand a tighter. I spread my fingers out, and he threaded his own through the spaces created. 

 "I know what it's like to be so afraid that you can't think straight," he said in a voice that bordered a whisper. "I want to keep you safe."

 "Thank you," I murmured.

 "You were put on my path for a reason. I know it. I was meant to protect you."

 "How do you know that?" I inquired.

 "Last night, before you called me... I was dreaming about you. I couldn't escape the feeling that I was meant to meet you. It was as though something was trying to tell me that you were in trouble and that I needed to go to you. Then you called, and that was all I needed to be convinced. I'm supposed to be here with you."

 Bill lifted my hand and brought the back of my palm to his lips. I shivered when he pressed a kiss to my skin, but I had never felt safer in my life.

 "We're going to battle this together."

  @dreamtherapy​ @reinamysterio​ @skarswhat​ @mightbelindsey​ @sexual-rendezvous-blog​ @billskarsgardx​ @michaeliskindahot​ @mycrimsonsparrow​ @tigers-pat​ @rainbowmoosie​ @tinygayfungi​ @pancake-blonde​ @bskarsgardlove92​ @sarah2057​ @ohcaptains​ @jamierdr @loveforbillskasgard​ @vikingsmania​ @billdreamy69​ @lordeofther1ngs​ @theredheadsbookcorner​ @1-800-imagines​ @readsalot73​ @nicolehoran-maybe​ @weirdlilwitch​ @enchantedreadersworld​ @allkundsofwrong​ @loey-bae​ @bill-istvan​ @army-crawl-andersen​ @ohtheangst​ @beyond-the-ashes​ @whoplansthese​ @evaolii​ @frappylou​ @alylanaeblack​ @creepshowzombae​ @billullabies​ @bohemianfortunes​ @moondustmemories​ @terry2227​ @ivarlcthbrok​ @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ @alltimesamantha​ @amelia-in-w0nderland​ @thestonerosas​ @skrsgvrd​ @sorryimviolet​ @tweakersqueaker​ @inforapound​ @eff1ngqueen​ @skrsgrd-my-boi​ @rekdreams-fandom​ @b-afterhours​ @anastasiaskarsgard​ @ainatirb-j​ @voodoo-queen​ @quiche-pocket​ @awkward-haux​ @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ @originalclodmakergarden​ @skrsgardspams​ @tumblingdwntherabbithole​ @xbuckxnastyx​ @lauraaan182​ @justlira @skadithegoddess​ @whiskeyxinxaxteacup @calumculia0​ @micheallangdons​

(If you would like to be tagged or have your tag removed, please let me know!)

[teamhook]

CS Supernatural Summer**

Wild Within (Part 2) AO3 or FFN

Early the next morning Killian awoke slowly. He soon noticed he was in a comfortable bed but not the same bed he laid his head to rest last night but a bed of grass. He looked around to survey the location. He then noticed his clothes were covered in blood. The copper scent filled his lungs and the sheer excitement he felt as the scent unleashed a feral craving and the realization scared him. He quickly patted himself down in an effort to ensure it was not all his blood. Deep inside he was afraid of the origin of the blood. He spotted the little creek and washed his face and for a second he thought to go back to the cottage to Emma but opted to leave instead. He didn’t want to frighten her with his appearance.

He went home to shower and get ready himself for the day. He wondered if he should go to the doctor after he showered and was combing his hair he noticed a laceration along his hairline barely noticeable but he didn’t remember it being there the previous night. There was also a new cut on his cheek.

Perhaps he should go to the doctor again and have that checked out. He could have a concussion or something equally as dangerous but no one feels this good with a concussion or any other ailment.

First, he needed to tend to some business. He walked into his office building and soon was saluting Mr. Smee.

"Smee, did you make the calls to the writers?" He inquired impatiently.

"I did sir and so far ten of the top writers are willing to team up. Miss. De Vil said she would follow you anywhere."

"Good job Mr. Smee."

"Do I continue making phone calls sir?"

"No, that should be enough and I'm guessing we should be expecting a visit soon."

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?" Smee asked as he followed Killian into his office.

"Do I have any appointments, Mr. Smee?"

"Yes sir, Mrs. Lucas at 1:00 PM at her home. And please sir if you need to cancel you need to call her. She has called to confirm the appointment several times and she sounded scary."

Killian laughed at Mr. Smee's reaction to an older lady.  "Don't fret, I will not be canceling." As Killian was about to dismiss Mr. Smee his door opened.

"Hello, Killian." Mr. Spencer and an unknown man stood by the recently closed door. “This is my counsel, Mr. Midas.”

“Counselor, nice to meet you. Please, sit down.” He pointed at the comfortable leather chairs.

Mr. Midas forced a smile as he sat next to his boss.

Mr. Smee looked at Killian and once his boss nodded in approval he left the office and closed the door behind him.

"It has come to our attention that you are goading some of the writers into leaving the publishing house and join you in a crazy venture.”

“Why is it crazy? At least we tried and we may or may not succeed but in the end, we will be an added bonus to any publishing house.”

“We, so you are including yourself in the deal.”

“Yes sir, It will be at least ten first-rate writers and myself an amazing deal.”

 Spencer and his counsel shared a look.

Mr. Spencer is the one that spoke. “You are even worse than Gold.”

“Am I? I thought those were qualities you valued. Imagine the backlash after I issue the press release stating that revered top writers are leaving Excelsior House due to the politics their new owner has. We can agree that the bad press will not do any favors to the value of the firm.”

“Mr. Jones we will not give in to threats...” Counselor Midas spoke and was interrupted. “Wait, what are your terms?” Spencer asked at his companions displeasure.

“First, I keep my job. Second, I want a pay increase and additional power.”

“Fine call it off. I will inform Gold.”

“George may I have a word,” Midas asked of his longtime employer.

“Albert, don’t bother. I know nothing about publishing,” George Spencer looked at Killian. “Alright, you can keep your job. I accept your terms.”

“Good but before I do anything I need it in writing. Oh, and I will give Robert the news.”

With those last words exchanged Albert Midas and George Spencer left Killian’s office.

Killian couldn’t keep the smile from illuminating his face. Now he only hoped that Emma was not miffed at his sudden departure. How would he explain it?

Without ceremony, he got up from his comfortable chair and walked out his office door. First, he needed to find the answer to his immediate problem. What was happening to him?

“Mr. Smee. please get a hold of Miss. Nolan and when you do let her know I will be calling on her.” he scratched behind his ear. “I have a bit of a drive to make if I want to arrive on time for my appointment with Mrs. Lucas.”

“Of course, sir” he paused briefly “Sir? Did the meeting go well?”

“Wind might be turning in my favor. I will be able to confirm by tomorrow. I’m off.” He rushed out of his office and soon he was getting inside his car. The drive felt eternal.   

Finally, he reached his destination. A small log cabin in the middle of the forest. It looked cozy and full of warmth.

He stepped out of his car and proceeded to the door. He knocked and soon was greeted with a warm smile. An older woman opened the door wide.

“Are you Killian Jones?”

He answered with a kind smile. “I am and you must be the famous Anita Lucas.”

“I am, please come on in, let me get you out of the cold.”

“Thank you.” He noticed that she was studying him as he walked inside. She guided him to the small kitchen.

“Would you like some hot tea to warm up?”

“I would love a cup. Do you have any earl grey?”

“I do. Sit and get comfortable. I have a feeling this will be a long conversation.” She instructed for him to sit as she prepared the hot beverages.

Should that comment make him nervous? He really needs to find out what is going on. So he does as he was told and waited. He started tapping his foot a bit impatiently.

“Okay, sorry for the wait.” she apologized as she placed the hot tea in front of him along with sweeteners and lemon. “Your assistant mentioned a wolf bite. Mr. Jones and you can simply call me Granny.”

“Aye, I was bitten by a wolf but the reason for my visit is not the bite itself but the symptoms I’m experiencing. Do you know if the toxins of the animal bite can cause any unnatural reactions that conventional medicine would overlook?”

“Symptoms like what exactly?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “The physical ones are obvious but they are not as concerning as the fact that my senses are heightened beyond their natural function.”

“Let me guess, you can hear conversations from afar. Smell odors that normally would be missed by anyone else. You are more virile and maybe even more aggressive than before?” She looked at him intently.

He simply nodded his agreement.

“When did the bite take place?”

Killian got lost in thought for a second. How could he forget the day it was his anniversary? “March 31st.”

“Very promising. On March 31, the moon was closest to the earth. It has been a little over a century since the last time it was that close.”

Killian cannot help the dread that he felt in that second.

Granny continued with her explanation. “Simple explanation is that you are becoming a wolf. It is not like the movie, no silver bullets needed. During transformation the wolf is vulnerable.”

“Come again? I’m becoming a wolf. An actual wolf?” He scratched his head. “How is that even possible? Is it?”

“You tell me, Mr. Jones. You are the one that searched me out for answers.”

“Mrs. Lucas--” the look the woman sent his way ensured he corrected himself “Granny, do you truly believe that?”

“Mr. Jones life is mystical but we are already used to it so we see anomalies instead of the normal. Now about your situation. There are rules.”

“Rules, what kind of rules?”

“Rules that may help you understand your predicament.”

“What are the rules?” He didn’t expect to hear good news but he was not nothing this fantastical. Bloody hell.

“The wolf is always present but it rests during the day. At night it prowls. That is when the beast is stronger. He grows inside the vessel until the first full moon and then consumes the host. Killing all but his nature and heart.”

Killian paled at the grim prognosis.

Granny continued on. “Not everyone who is bitten transforms. There has to be an analog of the wolf to be wild within. A parallel or match. We can even say an equal of sorts.”

“Granny that is not an accurate description of myself. Most people would argue with that assumption of my character.”

“These people are wrong Mr. Jones. If they were correct you wouldn’t be here right now. It is also said that the bite is not always needed. The passion of the wolf is enough.”

He sighed “Is there a way to stop the transformation?”  

“There are herbs but they are not easily found. Especially with the full moon getting so close. But some years ago I acquired an amulet. It is one of the most powerful amulets in existence.” She got up from her chair and disappeared. Killian just sat on his chair and stared at the cold cut of tea in his grip. Granny finally reappeared after a few minutes with a small box. “You are the first wolf demon I have met.”

“Please forgive me if I don’t share your enthusiasm.”

“Mr. Jones, the demon wolf is not evil by nature, only if the man he bit is.” She reached for his hands across the table. “I don’t believe your heart to be dark or rotten. I envy you. Power without guilt. To love without a doubt.” She removed her hands from his and opened the box to hand him an amulet. A silver chain and pendant. The pendant was heavy with symbols and what he could make out a wolf image.  

“I cannot accept this.” He stammered as he held the amulet.

“Please accept the gift. I do have to warn you that the amulet has to be worn at all times and it must be next to the skin and never taken off. It will be a great pain and cause weakness while the wolf struggles to emerge. The charm will hold him at bay and sometimes drives him out completely. It is not the silver that weakens the beast it is the mountain ash.”

“Thank you. I must know one last thing is there is a chance it may not work?”

“I have never seen it work but the lore says it will. Before you go there is one last thing. The demon wolf can create a bond with another as well. A mate he feels worthy of his host.”

Killian took in her words and slowly gripped the amulet in his hand. “Thank you for sharing your knowledge and your generosity.” He rose from his sit and said his goodbyes to his gracious host and left.

Killian arrived at his place. He wouldn’t call it a home since it was simply a hotel room. His home had been shattered by betrayal but perhaps there was hope for something new. With that thought, he decided to call Emma and apologize for leaving without a single word. He could only hope that she would be understanding.

He picked up his phone and dialed her number. The line was ringing. The excitement of hearing Emma’s voice made him feel like a kid again. He waited and then he heard a click. “Hello??” The soft breathless voice said. “Emma, this is Killian Jones. I just wanted…” click  “Hello? Emma, are you still there?” Bloody hell this was not going to be easy. He dialed again… click… he hit redial… click… he decided on texting her an apology or at least a plea for forgiveness. “Emma, please, let me explain. That is all I ask for.”

Emma stared at her phone’s screen. Standing in nothing but a fluffy white towel, she gnawed at her bottom lip. His assistant had tried to convince her to return the call but she was stubborn and upset. At first, she was even angrier that he had not picked up the phone himself and now he had. Reading the text over and over. She liked the man and that was scary. She had been so upset when she woke up and made him breakfast only to find the room empty. The feeling of abandonment was overwhelming. It was a connection she had never experienced before.

She calmed herself and responded, “okay, I will listen to your plea.” She waited for the phone to ring and almost as soon as she sends the response her phone started ringing.

“Emma?”

“Plea away Mr. Jones.” to hide her nervousness she continued to dry herself with the towel.

“Lass, I’m sorry for my abrupt departure” he paused “Emma, please finish drying yourself, the noise is quite distracting.”

“You can hear that?” she stopped the movement once his words had sunk in. “Okay, I’m going to put you on hold for a second.”

“Alright. Emma, if you prefer I can call you back in a few minutes.”

“No just hold on a minute.” She just didn’t want to hang up. She put her phone down and quickly toweled her hair dry. She combed through the tangles as fast as she could. “Okay. I’m finished, now plea.”

“I sleepwalked and ended up in the woods. I must have fallen and hit my head. There was blood.” Should he tell her that not all the blood was his? At least he didn’t think so.

“And you didn’t think it was a good idea to let me know?”

“I didn’t want you to have to take care of me once more. I have taken advantage of your hospitality as it is. I’m sorry. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

“If you hit your head that would explain the blood loss. Nothing bleeds like the skull. You could have a concussion. Did you at least go see a doctor?”

“I didn’t, I thought about it because no one feels this good with a head injury but I promise if I start feeling light-headed, I will go see one. Am I forgiven?”

“I don’t know, how will I know if you’re lying?”

“That can be easily remedied. I would love to see you and then you can inspect for yourself. I have some cuts you can kiss better.” He cringed a little at the last part of his invitation.

She laughed. “Okay, what do you propose?”

“Dinner tomorrow night at the Cygnus, I’m in room 815 in case you arrive early and need to ring my room. The restaurant at the hotel at 6:30 P.M. is that acceptable?”

“Okay, I will be there and you’d better look like you fell and hit your head.” She warned.

He laughed “I did and I do. I look forward to our meal. Until tomorrow. Goodnight Emma.”

“Good night Killian.” and with that their call ended. He was thrilled that she had agreed to meet. He finally got ready for bed and with the amulet hanging over his neck brushing against his chest hair. He finally had hope that things would work out.  He fell asleep soon after.

The next day Killian awoke to the phone ringing. “Hello?” his voice still raspy with sleep.

“Mr. Jones this is your wakeup call. I have been calling for a few minutes. You must have had a hell of a night.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience. Thank you for the call, lass.” He hung up and pushed the covers off. He readied himself for work and left for the day. He had so much to look forward to today.

As soon as he entered his office Mr. Smee informed him that Mr. Spencer and Mr. Midas were in the conference room waiting for him.

He found his way to the conference room within minutes from his arrival.

“Mr. Spencer always a pleasure.” He strode in and sat across the men. “Do you have the contract we agreed?”

Mr. Midas was the one to speak. “Here it is, I still disagree with Mr. Spencer agreeing to such extortion.” He handed Killian the contract to look over.

“Ah, you are entitled to your opinion as I’m entitled to fight for my livelihood.” Killian was reading the contract and was interrupted.

“Mr. Jones it is all there. Please don’t act like you are having any doubts.” Both Spencer and Midas stated oozing frustration.

“Always a pleasure sir” with that he handed their signed copies and folded his own. He tucked them into his breast pocket and walked out with a smile on his face.

He needed to go to the washroom before heading back to his office. He entered and stood in front of the urinal seconds away from doing his business. He paused and remained rooted on his spot. The door opened and the sound of familiar footsteps had him on alert, Robert Gold. The uneven steps his former friend took as he neared Killian. There was a small difference the limp wasn’t as pronounced as it used to be.

“Jones, it has been a while since we last saw each other.”

“Aye, I remember the day clearly. It is seared into my memory.” Killian responded as he looked at his former friend’s reflection in the mirror. He waited for him to stand next to him and make his move.

“Tell me, dearie, how does it feel to lose everything you love?”

Killian’s single left eyebrow rose to his hairline and a small smile appeared on his face. “Did I? Lose everything I love?”

Robert couldn’t help laugh at Killian’s mannerisms. “Your wife has been sharing my bed for at least a year and now your job is mine too. Everything you took from me is where it belongs, mate!

“Everything I took? Are you daft? Milah chose me,” he paused and continued  “Arthur chose me as his replacement. Dearie.”

“NO! You took her first.” Robert gritted his teeth. “But that wasn’t enough, you had to take the job too. I knew in time I would get my revenge.”

“All this time you made me think you were my friend...That you had my back but it was all a ruse. You were just biding your time. Unlike you, dear friend, I didn’t need to take that approach.”

That caught Robert’s attention. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve had some time on my hands since I no longer have a wife to go home to and now I have the power to say, you are fired.”

“You can’t fire me!”

“Oh but I can. I took a page from your book and nagged Spencer until he gave me your job.” With a simple shrug of his broad shoulders, he goes back to do his business. He unzipped his trousers but from the corner of his eye, he waited for his reaction.

“You are lying!” Robert seethed “Spencer and I have a deal!”

“Sorry, mate, I have a contract that says otherwise and that means you are out!” with his final words to his former friend Killian turned to face him and marked his territory on top of the very expensive leather shoes.

“What are you doing?” asked Robert in disbelief.

“Marking my territory and you got in the way.” Killian smiled as he finished, readied himself and washed his hands to leave a puzzled Robert Gold.

Killian was overjoyed that he had saved his job and Emma had agreed to dine with him. The only little hiccup was the beast growing inside him. All that was left to do was to survive the next full moon and he could have his happy beginning with Emma. He was putting his fate in an amulet to end his curse.

He was at the entrance of the Cygnus at the entrance of the hotel lobby. Milah’s scent welcomed him and before he could avoid her presence she called out to him.

“Killian, could we talk?” Her plea clear in her voice.

“I don’t think it is a good idea. Milah please go.” He kept his back to her. He didn’t know how he would react if he would see her face.

“Please come back home. I have no excuse. It was a mistake.”

He finally turned to face her. “Robert become unlovable now that he is out of my job?”

“I never loved him! He never meant anything to me. I’m going to talk to him and end things.”

He towered over her. “You betrayed me over and over again with a man that didn’t mean anything to you, and somehow you think that is better?”

Her teary eyes became outraged. “Don’t be a self-righteous bastard!” she went to slap him.

He caught her arm before it made contact to his face and grabbed her by the elbow, almost yanking it out of its socket.

Milah stumbled on her feet with a small cry. “Killian, you’re hurting me.” Killian immediately released her elbow and was instantly apologetic.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me! You should go and never come back.” Milah just kept staring at Killian’s face in disbelief. She’d never seen her husband with that kind of attitude before. He was always much calmer. She slowly retreated in defeat.

Milah called Robert to arrange the meeting. “Robert we need to talk.”

Killian had gone to his room once Milah left. He wasn’t going to let her visit sour his mood. He was going to get ready for Emma’s arrival.  

He had changed clothes and decided to trim the thick beard. His sideburns peppered with gray hair. His eyes are as blue as the sea even with few lines that show his age. He felt younger re-invigorated and part of him knew it was more than the bite, that it was because of Emma. She had breathed life into him.

While waiting for his dinner date to arrive he sat on the loveseat in his room as he turned on the television to distract himself from the mess that had become his life. A metallic scent caught his attention, no it was more like stale meat. Where was the foul smell coming from? He followed the scent and soon found the source; on the lush carpet by the night stand’s wooden legs he found the answer. The handkerchief had dried blood, he picked it up to inspect it only to find three fingers wrapped by the cloth. Still on his knees trying to remember anything begging the gods to give him a sign he hadn’t killed anyone. The shiny handcuffs he found near the fingers aren’t inspiring any good thoughts.  

What had he done? The blackouts he was experiencing hadn’t been a real concern before until now. He quickly rewrapped the fingers and discarded them out.  

Should he cancel with Emma? He glared at the handcuffs. He couldn’t burden her with his troubles. What if he hurt her? He had lost his temper with Milah. He couldn’t risk it with Emma.

Lost in his thoughts he missed the interview in progress on his tv. Sidney Glass had with a young girl, Wendy Darling. She had been attacked by The Lost Boys a group of miscreants. They prowled Sherwood Park neighbor to the town zoo. This time they left without their prize. They had been stopped by a good Samaritan that had intervened before the young girl could be hurt. Her hero had told her to run and not to turn back. “What about you?” She had asked as she turned to make her escape. “I’m a survivor.” He had told her and she did as she was told and ran. Not long into her run, she came across two beat cops in pursuit of a trespasser at the zoo that had fled while still handcuffed.

Killian had decided to cancel with Emma but she didn’t answer his call. He lacked the willpower to keep away from Emma so he decided to use a little help. Click. He handcuffed himself to the radiator in his room.

Emma walked into the lobby of the Cygnus at 6:00 P.M. She had been nervous all day. She wasn’t a teenager but she felt like one but the real problem is that it wasn’t a date or was it? She decided to wear a pale pink dress. He asked her to join him for dinner to explain his absence in the morning. Is it horrible she wished it was a date? He made her forget she was truly alone.

She went up the elevator to his room. She was early and she hoped he wouldn’t mind. Room 815, she knocked. “Killian, it’s Emma, sorry I’m early. Hope you don’t mind.” No answer. She knocked twice more. Louder. “Killian, you cannot do this to me, again. Open. The. Door.” There was scuffling inside. “Emma, please go away. I cannot see you.” His voice barely audible.

Emma noticed a cleaning lady exiting from a room not far from Killian’s room. “Excuse me, ma’am. Could I ask for a favor?”

The older lady smiled and nodded. Emma returned her smile. “Could you please open room 815? I think my friend is sick and I’m worried about him.” Without a second thought, the lady opened the door for her. “Thank you.”

Emma entered the room slowly. Her eyes finally landed on Killian. He sat hunched over on a chair by the radiator handcuffed. She approached him slowly to not spook him. “Why are you pushing me away?”

“Please go away.” He begged defeated.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She answered stubbornly as she moved the hair away from his eyes. “Killian, what happened?”

“It's getting late and I think I've become dangerous ...especially at night.”

“And the handcuffs are to protect me? Because you might hurt me?”

“Aye, I think I’m turning into something else.” He looked away from her.

“You’re becoming what? The thing that bit you?”

“Please, you have to go. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Killian, just tell me where the key is.”

“I don't have it. I have no idea where I got the handcuffs from.”

“You don't have a key? What was the big plan? To sit chained to the radiator until you grew paws?”

He smiled “Gods. You make it sound like if it isn't happening. I didn't think past not hurting anyone.”

“Good thing you don't know who you're dealing with. Even with my amazing parents, I went through a rebellious stage. I picked up some shit that I thought I was never going to need and then I met this man who chained himself to the radiator and it all fell into place.” She was looking for something anything she could use.  She was completely focused on the lock trying to free him.

“Emma, love. Why would you want any of this mess? You should save yourself the trouble and go home.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to know why? Because I like you and you're a good man.”

“I don’t think I’m a good man. If I was this wouldn’t be happening to me. I wouldn’t be cursed.”

“I know you are a good man.” She slowly caressed his cheek. “You look at me like my father used to look at my mother.” She sniffled as she restarted her efforts to unlock the cuffs. “I’ve never met a man that looked at me the way you do and that is very exotic to me.”

“Then why is this happening to me?”

“Well, sometimes the worst things happen to the best people.” The cuffs clicked opened. “It’s all about the tumblers. Now that is taken care of; have you considered that maybe what is causing your symptoms is that you have a tumor?”

“Emma if only it was that simple. With the handcuffs, I found something that confirms my theory.” He looked down at his freed hands. “Please, don’t ask me what it was and then Milah--.” He stopped mid-sentence and his eyes met hers filled with remorse.

“Okay, I trust you but you have to tell me about Milah. Killian,” she noticed there was no wedding band “I know something happened not just the reason you are so upset about right now but before.”

“I’ll make you a deal love. I will tell you about Milah if you tell me about your parents. Do we have an accord?”

“Okay, I accept. I think my parents would have liked you.”

“Do you really think so? It would have been an honor to have known them. As for Milah, she wanted me to go back home.” Emma tensed at the comment. “She was having an affair with the man I thought was my best friend, Robert Gold. And she said he meant nothing to her, she cheated on me for nothing… I just cannot forgive and forget that. The reason I fear for your safety is because I felt anger towards her and I barely managed to control my temper with her. I just cannot take that risk with you.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Your wife betrayed you and you have a right to feel anger towards her. Do you think you will be able to reconcile with her?”

“She said she was going to end things with Robert tonight but I cannot, I will not be able to mend our relationship with her. I realize she was not the woman for me.”

“She is not the woman for you? Are you sure? There was a reason you married her.”

“Aye, I married her because I loved her but the woman I pledged my life to would have never betrayed our vows. I don’t think I ever truly knew her. Love, could we talk about a better topic? Emma, could you tell me about your parents?”

“They were madly in love and they did everything together. Until today I regretted my little rebellious stage but I guess everything happens for a reason. Anyway, they were in a car accident and for a minute we thought they were going to survive it and wake up from the coma their injuries had caused. The first doctor said it was their bodies way of trying to get better, like a reboot, and then the specialist George hired, Dr. Jekyll, said they were both brain dead. I asked for another opinion but I was told that grandad had already made arrangements. He claimed that was in their will and I could not do anything since he had power of attorney. I looked into it but by the time I got a judge to hear me it was too late.” Her eyes were filled with tears.

“Oh, Emma. I’m so sorry love I should not have pushed you.”

“I don’t mind talking about it with you. Since I met you I’m not consumed by the grief.”

“Oh, so I’m only a distraction?”

“No, you are not.” Somehow during their conversation and the unlocking of the cuffs she had ended up standing between his legs as he sat on the bed. “If you feel more comfortable with the cuffs on we can put them back on.”

He leaned towards her and in a breathy voice he responded, “maybe they are not necessary.” He was inhaling her scent. It was intoxicating to him.

“Easy tiger,” she placed her hands on his chest. She could feel his heart beating.

“I’m sorry-” he looked down trying to calm down. This was different than when he was with Milah.

“Killian look at me.” She raised his face. “I’m not complaining but maybe we can figure something out. Since you are worried you might hurt me. I need you to put your hands behind your back and I can cuff you.”

“Wait, I thought you said it wasn’t needed.”

“Killian. Put. Your. Hands. Behind. Your. Back.” She guided his hands from his sides to behind his back. Her chest meeting his as she slipped the metal cuffs on to his wrists but not completely clicking locked. “I wonder what you can do without hands.” She asked as she played with the buttons of his shirt.

“Oh, you will see love.” His eyes darkened.

Emma pulled his shirt from his pants and slowly unbuttoned it. She suddenly pushed him onto the bed where he was sprawled helplessly.

“Let’s find out.” She smiled as she climbed on the bed.

He couldn’t help but think how uncomfortable his position was because of the cuffs and the fact that the discomfort was a cross he was all too willing to bear.

They were lucky the cuffs were loose and had not completely locked. Soon they were both bare and had embarked on more enjoyable activities. As they laid in bed immersed in their post-coital afterglow Emma decided to ask about the amulet hanging from his neck.

“Killian?”

“Yes, love.”

“Is this silver chain part of a pirate’s treasure booty?”

He smiled as he caressed her back while she toyed with the chest hair surrounding the amulet.

“I’ve done some research about my gifts and this amulet might be the key to stopping this metamorphosis from completing.”

“What can I do to help?”

“You anchor me, Emma.”

“How about we rest for now and tomorrow we can figure out what to do.”

“Did I tire you out, love?”

“Yes you did, you are quite talented with and without hands.”

They both drifted into a deep sleep. A slumber the wolf within rose from. He stared at Emma as she slept. Normally the wolf would wake from his sleep to prowl the night the beast was majorly in control but that was not the case tonight because of Emma’s presence Killian maintained dominance over their shared vessel.

Sherwood Park a few blocks from The Cygnus a lifeless body would be discovered soon. Only her identification card was in her purse. Milah Balefrie Jones in her attempt to save her marriage she made the mistake of angering the wrong person and ended bloodied with her throat torn off.

Killian was the first to wake. He admired Emma’s sleeping form. All he could do is stare at her.

“Hey,” she mumbled sleepily, “staring is not nice.”

“I’m sorry love. I couldn’t help myself.” He spooned her. “Love, you are beautiful even when you snore.”

“Hey! I don’t snore!” She playfully slugged him. He only smiled and held her close, to him. “Is it crazy that I never want to get out of bed?”

“Nope, I feel the same.” She sighed and hummed contently as she cuddled closer to him.

After a few more hours of sleep, they decided to rejoin the world.

“Love we can go eat something at the restaurant down at the lobby or just have room service, what do you desire?”

“Well, we could get dressed and go downstairs to eat or we can stay in bed and get nourishment delivered to us? I vote for room service.”

“Good. Then that is what we shall do. I’ll place the order while you take a quick shower. Okay so what do you want?”

“I don’t know. What is good here?”

“I was thinking of getting the pancakes. They are delicious but they don’t hold a candle to you, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes at his comment and finally got out of bed and ran into the bathroom to shower. She was happy and that scared her. She couldn’t lose him too. She readied herself as fast as possible so he could shower as well.

While she waited for the food arrival and for Killian to get ready. She inspected the amulet and traced the outline of a wolf. She knew there was something to Killian’s conclusion. She hoped he was wrong but deep inside she knew he was right. If he was truly becoming a wolf she would lose him. She turned on his laptop and noticed the history on his browser. He had been doing research but nothing was proving to be reliable. Mostly folklore and mythology. She really hoped they could find a way to survive this together. She noticed that the shower was no longer running. He was going to be out soon and she needed to be brave for him.

Outside of the Cygnus, detectives Oz Walsh and Leroy Brokk were about to inform Killian Jones that his wife was murdered. Sadly with no suspects and the proximity to his home it made him a person of interest.

[wurmiv]

Please: Help or Offer Support

 +++--- PLEASE, HELP SUPPORT MY FAMILY. DETAILS MAY BE FOUND IN THE LINKS PROVIDED BELOW ---+++

+-- https://www.gofundme.com/james-orr-medical-expenses --+

it’s funny how, for once, I’ve no idea how to really begin this, or decide where would be the most appropriate to begin this call. I never thought I’d bring myself to even share from here, but here I am. I see these sort of posts often... and will most likely become lost in a cesspool of other families caught in their own, respected states of desperation, yet here I go

I suppose, as most people would do, I’ll start from a brief recap: 

for those of you who may follow me closely, y’all may have caught snippets of some of my text posts that offer a quick peek of some of the things I’ve been going through. as of right now, I am still separated, yet heavily involved, with my family as they are living through a continuous pattern of emotional and physical strife spurred upon a number of reasons. I still attend maymester courses, hold a job (which I will be leaving soon due to) process of transferring to university, moving out of state with the generous family I am currently staying with, as well as a variety of other responsibilities I have picked up along the way.

many of my family’s struggles may be summed due to financials as well as a collective list of personal conflicts. as a family of seven (eight, including me), my father is still unemployed from early december and my mom maintains her status as a domesticated mother to care for my siblings. similarly to an incident I detailed back in january, my family (excluding my father) had to flee the home in concern for their safety. on numerous occasions, I still made the effort to travel to them, often hours worth of distance to cover, and provide support from a physical and emotional standpoint. by now, I was able to create a firm communication network between specific family members, so even in times I was not present, priority members were still knowledgeable of the present situation and were able to provide appropriate support that I could not provide all by myself at the moment they needed it. 

this past monday, july 17, my father collapsed before my mom and one of my younger brothers on one of her usual surprise visits... he had gone into cardiac arrest.

 since then, I’ve been back and forth from the hospital to visit him, my mom, and other family as they come and go. he is still heavily sedated, but his body cannot function without support- his heart is healthy, brain still active, but his kidneys are failing. he was diagnosed with diabetes, something that we have gone years without any prior knowledge of, and with his history of excessive alcohol abuse and poor diet, we are slowly finding more and more complications in concerns with his health. his body finally went into shock in response to a soccer refereeing event over the weekend where he was found profusely vomiting and became severely dehydrated. since this is an often occurrence, it was easily passed off, and he was sent home. in regards to his other progressive anomalies, his heart finally gave out as a response. he had to be resuscitated twice and neurological damage to the brain is still currently unknown.

as of right now, his body is receiving oxygen through process of endotracheal intubation, as he can not breathe on his own. he produces urine at a slowed rate, but is also done with the aid of medical assistance. his dangerously high blood pressure has stabilized with the help of medication, but the level of acid that had accumulated in his body is still present. cirrhosis has also been discovered within the body and his limbs are incredibly swollen due to the medication he is on. this morning, the doctor and his staff tried to taper him off of the medication and sedatives to help alleviate pressure and allow the fluids to leave his system as well as see if he would become responsive. dialysis has been mentioned a great number of times. we are closer to this last resort now more than before.

I arrived for a second visit today with a close friend (since my car’ s tire blew out earlier this morning), and he did become responsive. but freaked out due to the tubings and machinery down his throat, nose, and rest of his body. after a bit of a struggle, he was sedated once more and is now back in rest. 

+++++

this GoFundMe fundraising campaign was created by a concerned member of the soccer association that my father is affiliated with. it’s meant to raise money for the medical expenses of treatment we are slowly accumulating (this is technically my father’s first “check-up” in over seven years) as my family was never in a place to be able to satisfy these costs- especially now.

I suppose the reason I am able to bring myself to share here now, is because... I am asking as the usual, terrified older sibling seeking for additional aid for these kids. the same kids I helped raised, the same few with such potential at such a ripe age, bright futures still very well obtainable and for the parents I still love and still work hard to recollect the fragments that keep shattering within their palms over and over. I hate asking for assistance, and I especially hate the idea from taking from others- but, this is all for my family. every cent, every expression of support, every comment or thought, it’s purely for them. this is help outside my reaches, and I just want them to have one less thing on their pile of burdens from over the years. 

despite everything, despite the years I’ve spent living in fear due to our personal conflicts, what eventually pushed me out in the first place out of safety... my stance still holds. no one deserves this. no one deserves to suffer. no one deserves this sense of hopelessness.

no one deserves to experience loss like we have. 

I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it, and the festering wounds are still fresh.

even if you’ve no money to spare, any thought, wish, share, whatever would be greatly appreciated... I don’t know what to express or detail further. I’m honestly a scramble, and I apologize beforehand if I sound like I am speaking in tongues again

I’m honestly horrible at asking for help..

thank you

                                                                                   ++ --- https://www.gofundme.com/james-orr-medical-expenses --- ++

[thechasefiles]

The Chase Files Daily Newscap 9/12/2019

Good Morning #realdreamchasers. Here is your daily news cap for Thursday, September 12th, 2019. There is a lot to read and digest so take your time. Remember you can read full articles via Barbados Today (BT), or by purchasing a Daily Nation Newspaper (DN).

INVALIDITY PAYOUTS ORDERED – Close to 200 retired civil servants who stopped receiving invalidity benefits, some dating back 15 months, are to start getting their cheques again from this month, ministers have ordered.Last Friday, the Director of Finance and Economic Affairs Ian Carrington in a letter to the Accountant General detailed the instructions of the Cabinet on the approach that should be taken on a matter that has generated considerable debate and criticism, particularly since June. A memo from the head of finance and planning to the Government’s paymaster said: “As you are aware, there have been numerous complaints over the past few months regarding the abatement of pensions of those officers who are medically boarded. “Following discussions with the Minister of Finance, Economic Affairs and Investments, it was decided that as the Invalidity Pensions relate to a particularly vulnerable section of the population, it would be necessary to put a revised policy in place. “However, until that policy has been finalized, the Cabinet has agreed that those officers who are receiving Invalidity Pensions and whose pensions were abated by the Treasury should have their pensions reinstated with effect from September 2019. “This, therefore, serves to instruct you to reinstate the pensions to those persons receiving Invalidity Pension, whose pensions were abated between June 2018 and August 2019, with effect from the September 2019 pension day.” Carrington confirmed this afternoon that earlier today he made a follow-up check with the Accountant General and was assured that the process of reinstatement had started to have all 190 people who had been affected back on to the rolls in time for September’s pension payments. The decision is to cost the Treasury more than $177,000 per month. The overpayment anomaly that triggered the recent stop order cost a total of $13.8 million to taxpayers over the past ten years. In late July, Prime Minister Mottley intervened in the matter after considerable public criticism of how it had been handled, pointing out that while there may have been legal justification for the abatement, a solution had to be based more on humanitarian grounds than acting as bureaucratic slaves to the letter of the law. The Prime Minister’s Office is to continue to monitor the situation in the coming weeks to ensure a smooth reinstatement pending the publication of a new policy, Barbados TODAY was told.(BT)

CEO DEPARTS GAIA – The board of the Grantley Adams International Airport Inc has fired its Chief Executive Officer Neville Boxhill according to a statement from the state-owned enterprise this evening. GAIA Inc said, “it has terminated the services of the CEO Mr. Neville Boxill”. Boxill was appointed to the top post on April 1, 2018. The board said it appointed the current Deputy CEO Terry Layne to act as CEO with immediate effect, adding that the post of CEO will be advertised to find a successor. Boxill has served in a number of senior positions in the tourism industry, including aviation consultant to the now-defunct Barbados Tourism Authority, and was a former senior director of support services at the Barbados Tourism Marketing Inc (BTMI).  (BT)

CUTOMS FIX COMING –Those teething problems at the Customs and Excise Department should soon be a thing of the past. Customs brokers are being assured that provisions have been made to deal with issues with the recently implemented ASYCUDO World system, which led to numerous delays and no access to Government’s systems this week.The assurances came from new Comptroller of Customs Owen Holder who was speaking to THE NATION yesterday.“There is a project unit and there is a number where they can call into that unit. There is also an email where they can access the system and get directive from members of the project unit, as well as the consultant is there to assist wherever questions are asked,” he said. (DN)

CONCRETE SALES SLUMP BLAMED ON ECONOMY– A major concrete company is reporting a slump in sales as a result of the ongoing economic downturn. CEMIX is, however, pinning its hopes on new marketing strategies to boost its fortunes. General Manager of CEMIX Jason Edwards speaking to the media on the sidelines of the official launch of the CEMIX Green Hearts for Blue Ribbons campaign, said business has not been ideal in the past two years due to the economic environment. He told reporters: “It is not the greatest environment in the past two years or so. “We do believe that things will pick up for us within the next three months. If we compare this year to previous years it is a little slower in terms of the turnover and the number of projects that are on the way. “But we do believe in the coming months’ things will pick up towards the end of the year. “We hope by being a part of this campaign that we will be able to generate some more inquiries into the products we provide. (BT)

WATER PROMISE –Hold tight! Relief is on the way. This is the message Minister of Energy and Water Resources Wilfred Abrahams is sending to residents in the North constantly plagued with water outages and low pressure. During a press conference at his Country Road, St Michael offices yesterday, Abrahams said that after several weeks of intensive work, the Barbados Water Authority (BWA) had finally brought a system on stream to help facilitate water-starved residents in that part of the island. “Today [yesterday] the BWA is commissioning a new pumping station at Trents, St James,” he said. “This station will improve the volume of water flowing to the taps of residents along Highway 2A – in parishes like St Thomas, in areas like Kew Land, Redmans Village, Melrose and Welches. In St Andrew, areas such as White Hill, Mose Bottom, and in St Joseph, areas like Chimborazo, Lammings Housing Area, Braggs Hill, Sugar Hill and Spa Hill.” Abrahams explained that the pumping station was equipped with state-of-the-art technology and powerful pumps, which could put pressure on the old pipe mains. He asked the public to report any burst pipes and bear with the Authority until it figured out the correct balance ratio of pumping the water to householders.(DN)

DOC’S WARNING –The head of the Barbados Association of Medical Practitioners (BAMP) Dr. Abdon DaSilva has warned Government to be on the lookout for ‘cannabis edibles’ that could harm children once the distribution of medicinal cannabis kicks into gear. Dr. DaSilva said it was well documented that in some states in the US where medicinal cannabis was legal there had been a “tremendous increase” in emergency cases of children who had accidentally used marijuana. “As a word of caution to the Ministry of Agriculture and Food Security, I think it should pay particular attention to the development of the industry where it relates to edibles,” the medical doctor told the Joint Select Committee on the Medicinal Cannabis Bill at the Lloyd Erskine Sandiford Centre. In a brief presentation to the hearing, Dr. DaSilva said: “The food scientists already are now working to provide things such that we can now go to the movies and get marijuana-based popcorn. “Canadians are now talking about marijuana-based beer and Coca Cola I think has jumped in on the industry. “We have marijuana-based gummy bears, we have marijuana-based ice cream which is called the Krondike bars, so marketing now has sleight of hand in the food industry and we have to be particularly concerned about that.” Dr DaSilva maintained that whether Barbadians were willing or not to embrace the medicinal cannabis industry “it was here to stay”. But he queried whether the industry was being managed by the Ministry of Agriculture rather than the Ministry of Health. He said: “In the Act, it speaks to the Minister of Agriculture and Food Security, and with all due respect, I’m wondering if it is to be assumed that the Ministry of Agriculture and Food Security now has the responsibility. “Am I to interpret this as an attempt to divorce the profession from the Ministry of Health and marry it to the Ministry of Agriculture and Food Security?” Dr. DaSilva said while BAMP was aware of the various treaties, the doctors’ concern primarily surrounded the fact that a number of regulatory functions had to be put in place in terms of collecting data which then had to be passed on to the international organizations. He called for a “marriage” of the two ministries.(BT)

ABSENCE QUESTIONED –Defence attorney Andrew Pilgrim, QC, has taken issue with what he says are police officers remaining on active duty despite having criminal charges pending against them. He raised the concern, as one of three police officers was noticeably absent from the dock when a private prosecution case against them continued in the No. 2 District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court today. Police constables 1958 Bradley Cutting, 1890 Justin Phillips and 2099 Akeel Grant, have been accused of assault, occasioning actual bodily harm to Dario Rico Stanton of Hart’s Gap, Christ Church and Romario Mitchell Quintyne of 122 Cordia Drive, Warners Park, Christ Church. The offence is said to have occurred on June 18, 2017 during an event at Pirate’s Cove. Attorney-at-law Wendy Maraj, representing Grant who was not in the dock today, explained that it was her understanding that her client was absent because “he was in the field on duty this morning.” “I apologise for his absence, my hands are tied with respect to how much further information I do have. I do know that everything was on track for him to be here. . .  he is always here, this is the first time he has been absent,” Maraj explained. Pilgrim responded saying, “These are accused men, I don’t know if an accused man can come to the court and say or send someone to tell you they are in the field. “I don’t know what field, but they should not be even working in the Royal Barbados      Police force with criminal charges pending before them,” Pilgrim said adding, “Having said that, we are in a position where we promote people who are facing criminal charges before the court.” Without calling names the Queen’s Counsel claimed that there was an officer who had been “promoted twice” while under a charge of this nature. “Having said all of that his [Grant’s] obligation is to turn up like everybody else. I don’t want anything more special once he comes by the end of the day, I don’t have any problem but if he doesn’t, I am making an application for a warrant to be issued for his arrest because we can’t be seen to be treating people one way one day and a next way the other day,” Pilgrim argued. However, Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant said it was not her practice to issue a warrant of arrest for an accused on the first non-appearance. She explained that sometimes those persons come later in the day or sometimes send in a sick certificate. “So I try to give everybody a fair chance and opportunity,” the magistrate stated as she gave Grant until the end of the week to present himself to the court. Meanwhile, a separate case in which Stanton and Quintyne are charged with assaulting Phillips, occasioning him actual body harm, as well as obstructing that officer in the execution of his duties, and assaulting Grant with intent to prevent the officer from lawfully apprehending him was also called today. Quintyne is further alleged of failing to obey a lawful order to keep moving given by Cutting, resisting the officer in the execution of his duties and using abusive language. Those charges are said to have occurred on June 18. Magistrate Cuffy-Sargeant gave a final adjournment in the two-year-old case following an application by Pilgrim after the prosecutor stated that he was not in a position to serve disclosure at this time even though he had site of the file. The counter cases will continue on March 10, 2020.(BT)

HASTINGS POLICE STATION EVACUATED - Police personnel at Hastings Police Station have been evacuated to the nearby Brigade House after a package containing an unknown substance was brought to the station by a female who sought to report to the police that she had received a suspicious package. Police said the entire station was compromised as a result and all personnel was instructed to evacuate in keeping with protocol. Meanwhile, vehicular traffic travelling south along Hastings Road has been diverted at Garrison Road and those travelling towards Bridgetown are being diverted at Harts Gap.(BT)

HARD TIMES FORCED MAN TO GROW OWN WEED – Purchasing marijuana “all the time” became a costly habit for a 29-year-old man so he decided to grow his own. What Kemar Tito Haynes did not expect was for lawmen to execute a search warrant at his 1st Avenue Jackson, St Michael residence on September 9. A loose quantity of cannabis was found on a television stand in a bedroom, said police constable Victoria Taitt. She said that Haynes told lawmen when asked to account for the substance, “I now put that there to dry some more before I smoke”. Searches were conducted in other bedrooms where stalks and loose cannabis were discovered on the floor. Nineteen plants were found hanging in a closet while stalks were found in a chest of drawers. Three, four-foot plants under cultivation were also found outside in the enclosed yard. “Things hard, so instead of buying all the time I decided to plant a few in the yard. Everything in here is mine,” he told police at the time. Today in the No 2 District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court Haynes stuck to his story as he gave an explanation. “I was not cultivating it to sell but for a little smoke . . . things kind of hard and I did not have any money to buy so I asking for a chance,” Haynes stated. He was fined $1,500 which must be paid in two months if he wants to avoid six months in prison. Haynes must return to the court on November 11 to present his receipt.(BT)

ST MICHAEL MAN FACING FIREARM AND OTHER CHARGES– Bar owner Raheim Colin Forde is on remand at Dodds on several charges. The 26-year-old, of 10th Avenue New Orleans, St Michael was sent to the St Philip institution when he appeared before Chief Magistrate Christopher Birch in the District ‘C’ Magistrates’ Court yesterday. However, he will go before Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant on September 12 as the charges are said to have occurred in the District ‘A’ jurisdiction. Forde is alleged to have caused serious bodily harm to Sheron Matthews on August 23 with intent to maim, disfigure or disable her. It is further alleged that on the same day he unlawfully and maliciously engaged in conduct that placed Jumaane Matthews-Ifill in danger of death or serious bodily harm. He is accused of using a firearm without a valid licence. He was not required to plead to any of the indictable charges nor to a charge that he dishonestly assisted in the retention, removal or disposal of a motorcar worth $28,000 belonging to Ross Clarke between December 5 and 12, 2018 knowing or believing it to be stolen.(BT)

VANDERPOOL’S SOS FOR SKILLED ‘BIG MEN’ – Senior national centre Charles Vanderpool says Barbados’ basketball is crying out for skilled ‘big men’ to play in the paint and is bemoaning the fact that the majority of existing six-footers want to be guards. Vanderpool’s comments came after he coached Future Pinelands Under-19 basketball team to a third consecutive title in the Barbados Amateur Basketball Association Summer Jam tournament this past Sunday night at Barbados Community College. According to Vanderpool, it was not just local basketball that was gravitating away from utilising big men on court, but also international teams were centering their focus around guards. “I think that the game of basketball itself has gravitated away from big men, but I believe that there will be a time that it will start to filter back to big men. I think it is like a cycle. Once upon a time it used to be for big men with the Shaquille O’Neals, the Olajuwons, the Abdul Jabbars. It used to be for big men, and then Jordan [Michael] came, Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, LeBron James came, and it started to filter away to guards. So, eventually, teams are going to structure defensively to stop guards, and that will open the floor for the big men. “I think one of the problems in Barbados is we don’t have a lot of skilled big men and the majority of our big men want to be guards, and I don’t understand why. If I look at a national team and I see a spot for eight guards, and I look around and see three big men, I want to be the big man. But all our big men desire to be guards.” Even though it was a challenge for Barbados when the senior national men’s team travel to compete, Vanderpool said they tried to make the best of the situation. He explained that when the side travelled last year to compete at the Caribbean Basketball Championship in Suriname where they finished third overall, national power forward Akeem Marsh was this country’s most dominant player. “In terms of overseas, we play with what we have, if we have big we go towards the big, if we have guards we play with the guards. Last time we went away Marsh [Akeem] was our dominant player, and he was a big. We still played through Lockhart [Andre], but in terms of when we needed something at the basket we played through Marsh. So, there is still a room for bigs. “I went away on a scholarship as a big and I played division two [basketball] as a big. A lot of people said when you go overseas you are going to be a guard, but I played big. There are undersized bigs, Charles Barkley [NBA Hall-of-Famer] was a big, and he is about six-four, so big is not really about size. But people don’t see the glory. So as coaches we need to filter that back in, we need to show them a spin move is nice too, a little drop step to jump shot to dunk is nice too. So we as coaches around the entire island need to bring back glory to Bim,” he said. (BT)

CLOBBERED – Fast bowler Megan Schutt’s final-over hat-trick coupled with opener Alyssa Healy’s dashing half-century underlined another dominant Australia performance as West Indies Women slumped to an eight-wicket defeat and a 3-0 whitewash in their ICC Women’s Championship series in Antigua today. Entering the contest at the Vivian Richards Cricket Ground with two previous heavy defeats, West Indies could do little to avoid a third straight loss, posting an inadequate 180 all out off exactly 50 overs and then watching as the Aussies romped home in the 32nd over. Healy extended her rich vein of form with an audacious 61 off 32 deliveries while captain Meg Lanning struck a mature, unbeaten 58 off 70 deliveries and all-rounder Ellyse Perry, 33 not out, to steer Australia over the line. For Australia, the victory was their 15th straight One-Day International win and fifth successive series without defeat, confirming their status at the top of the standings. (BT)

KING STADIUM REPAIRS STALLED – Complete renovation of the National Stadium is still some time away, says Minister of Sport John King. “The Stadium is, I would say, two more steps away from really getting started. It’s going to be done but there is a process. When I came in [to the ministry] I was told there was only one thing which had to be done and then it would get started but then we had to start the process all over again,” he told the media yesterday at the Radisson Aquatica, Aquatic Gap, St Michael. King said he would meet a Chinese delegation tomorrow regarding the work after which he would be in a better position to give any deadlines. He called for patience and reminded Barbadians there was not enough money to get everything which needed to get done completed in the time they would like. “The reality is the country is in a recession and there is no magic wand we can wave to get out of it, so we have to creep and once everyone understands this, we will get there with a lot less frustration,” he said. (DN)

111days left in the year Shalom!  Follow us on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram for your daily news. #thechasefiles #dailynewscaps #bajannewscaps #newsinanutshell

[olivieblake]

Do you have any ill feelings towards people who learn more Pro life than pro choice? (If they just personally don't agree with it but wouldn't condemn someone for going through with it if it wasn't for health reason?) I ask because I struggle with this part of me :( I am pro life but understand abortion can be needed in terms of health. I don't like it to be used as Birth Control, but it someone uses it that way I won't judge them. Though I get hate for my beliefs anyways :(

Oh boy, Anon, I know I’m shouldering a lot of risk by handling this subject on a blog devoted largely to Harry Potter erotica, but back in the depths of my conscience I know that this topic is important enough to be honest about, so here we go; have mercy.

This is what I believe:

Every person (in this case, specifically every woman) has a right to do with her body, her mind, and her spirituality whatever she chooses. You have a right to be pro life. You have a right to embrace that belief wholeheartedly or to struggle with it; you are free to hold your beliefs however you choose. It’s not anyone’s right - especially not mine - to condemn someone for making that choice for herself, whatever it may be.

However, this is my experience: I have worked with a number of social services and public institutions in Los Angeles and Chicago, and from my experience, I believe that abortion in reality is nothing like the belittled form of ‘birth control’ that some conservative politicians claim. In my view, unplanned pregnancies that result in abortion are due to three main factors: 1) that sexual education is severely limited, 2) pregnancies can be economically crippling, and 3) that it is a cultural anomaly for males to shoulder responsibility that comes with an unwanted pregnancy. 

To the first point: in many cases, most people - men and women - are simply not informed about the realities of sex; and why would they be, really, if they’re getting their only information from unreliable sources like the internet (which we all know is full of Fools™, myself included)? Public education in particular is hampered by limitations on what can or can’t be taught, and a girl who is told by a boy she cares about and/or trusts that a condom ‘doesn’t feel good’ or ‘won’t fit my gigantic penis’ might believe those things if nobody teaches her otherwise. 

This leads us to my second point: yes, conceivably there are other options than abortion - adoption, for example - but the cost of medical attention during pregnancy itself is extremely prohibitive, and in a country like the one I live in where insurance is more than a little costly, that’s not an option for most people. If I were to get pregnant right now, I would be in huge trouble. I have a preexisting condition (I’m bipolar) and mr blake does as well (he had brain cancer as a child and several knee surgeries while he played college baseball) which means that without ACA (Obamacare), we wouldn’t have insurance, and as long as that program continues to be in a state of political flux, there’s no telling whether I’d even have it at all in 9 months. 

[Sidebar: as a person with bipolar, I would require constant blood tests during pregnancy because of the medications I would need, because depression and mania in the mother can negatively affect the development of the baby’s immune system. Do you know how much those blood tests alone cost, even without the doctor and the insurance bills and the psychiatrist? Upwards of $900 each round, depending on the medication cocktail, and they’re required at regular intervals during pregnancy. That’s just a side point, of course, in case you didn’t know - because I certainly didn’t until I bothered to find out. Believe me, that’s just one more thing they don’t teach in sex ed class.]

My final point is that our society generally accepts - depending, of course, on the context, the demographics, and the cultural factors - that a pregnant girl is the pregnant girl’s problem, end of story. I hope we can agree that’s not fair - and I want to be clear even as I say that that I unequivocally admire the triumph of the single mother. My mother, in fact, had me out of wedlock and raised me by herself, so I would never, ever say that women are not capable of great things despite the difficulty of pregnancy/child-rearing. All I’m saying is that with the stigma of pregnancy and the difficulty of living on one income - if there is an income at all - means that abortion can be the lesser of two evils; i.e., that the life of the mother is valuable, too, and her right to choose herself is her choice to make.

I know I asked for this can of worms when I casually mentioned that I wished for reproductive rights, but I want to make this clear: whether you personally are pro life or pro choice isn’t the issue. Believing or not believing in abortion is not the issue. The real issue, in my view, is simply that a political system dominated by men has determined that it is their job to ensure that women are not permitted to make that choice for themselves, despite the fact that pregnancy is a two part equation. There are a hundred more arguments I could make about why women should have access to birth control - how, for example, increased access to birth control can help prevent unwanted pregnancies in lieu of better sexual education, thus reducing the need for abortions to begin with - but that’s not what I want. That’s not what I wish for.

This is what I wished for: that someday I can have the certainty of knowing that my vagina and my partner’s penis have the same fundamental rights and freedoms - and that’s literally all I’m asking.