#so having That portion of the pains elevated at least a little was also a great moment for her. it still sometimes give up n stops working-

[spotsupstuff]

I feel so bad for zephyr, what are some of her happiest memories? Would it be first meeting the members of her local group? I assume they would be built after her, was she excited about them being built or was she not informed at all?

she wouldn't be very... Present. most likely hadn't managed to be there for every Iterator when they first came online. she is very removed from most of her group because she's unable to stick in the chats for too long with all the damage and her endless attempts to conserve herself as much as possible, so her interactions with others outside of the Anemoi (and this one guy called Orion's Pathway) are extremely limited

Boreas, though, ever the life-saver, updates her on any new Iterator projects being build, how are the already existing ones doing- see she is kind of hard to cheer up and as a rule she never really laughs, but oh hearing about successes of others always manages to make her happy. that has been a thing for her since day one!

so Boreas would make a list of the Eo group's achievements with Euros and Orion's help and he'd read them out for her during their routine calls. those calls are probably one of her happiest memories, since she got so much serotonin and motivation out of hearing about her family (n also just in general- their start might've been rocky but Zeph n B really really love each other [platonically ofc])

they might not Know her, only be aware that their senior is called Abet Zephyr and her appearances are strangely rare, but she loves them all. if she hadn't, it wouldn't be called Mission Self-preservation. it'd be way more revenge focused. her number one priority is the safety of her family even if she doesn't know them personally. she puts them above her anger, physical and emotional trauma cuz she just fuckin loves them that much

her other happy memories include some stuff with Sparrows! after Zephyr allows her opinion about the Ancients develop, she finds herself glad whenever Sparrows would show up to do some more repairs and spend some time with the old humidifier. jgklsdmclk just like with a grandma, Sparrows would show her some stuff on her phone/Mechanic's watch and Zeph would be confused about it but she gets to spend the time with someone she likes so it's okay

along with Euros on a call the three of them would sing folk songs from Sparrows' home with Boreas usually listening in, very rarely joining in

Zephyr wasn't given overseers until Sparrows showed up for the first time, too, so when she synced with the eyes and took a peak outside for the first time in her life, that was... that stuck with her as a strong memory, too. can't exactly say it was a Happy memory, but only cuz there was so much happening in her emotionally in that moment that simplifying it to a singular one wouldn't really represent it right

here's her lighting up while Boreas tells her about positive recent events of the group

her antennas are broken- that's why they are always down like that- but Dammit she is Happy we Gotta wiggle 'em at least a wee bit

[allthingsvetmed]

WEEK TWO

This week we are focused on my own dog, Shadow!

I normally brush Shadow and Beans’ teeth at home, at least once a week. This time I noticed that Shadow had a bit more halitosis than normal. While looking around in her mouth for the origin of the odor, I found that her pulp cavity was partially exposed on tooth 109. (Right maxillary carnassial) She normally loves to chew on sticks and hard toys at home, so I suspected this is what caused the fracture. 

This type of fracture is called a partial slab fracture. 

Since her pulp cavity was exposed, she was “chattering” every time I touched her fractured tooth. This was a good indicator that the tooth needed to be extracted because it was causing her a good amount of pain. I promptly removed dry food from her diet and removed all the hard chew toys from her box, to prevent her from further damaging her tooth. 

I wouldn't have known that she had fractured her tooth if I hadn’t looked. She wasn’t favoring any side of her mouth when she ate, nor was she avoiding playtime. The only vague indicator she gave me was that she was sleeping a little more than normal. Animals are masters at hiding their pain. 

When I was able to get her into the clinic, we ran pre-anesthetic bloodwork on her, since she’s 6 years old and she hasn’t had bloodwork done in a little bit. Her chemistry was within normal limits, besides her creatinine being on the high end of normal, which I will be keeping an eye on in the future. Her complete blood count was also within normal limits besides her hematocrit being slightly elevated, which could be due to her fasting overnight. Her mean corpuscular hemoglobin concentration was also elevated indicating a hypochromasia. You can calculate MCHC by dividing hemoglobin by hematocrit and multiplying by 100. (MCHC=(Hgb/HCT)x100). A hypochromasia means that the central pallor in the erythrocytes is increased, giving the cells a lighter and less dense appearance. Her MCHC and RBC were not extremely elevated so I was not concerned with these values, however if they were very elevated I would be considering an Iron deficiency. 

Since her bloodwork was clean, her ECG was normal sinus rate and rhythm, and she was fasted the night before, we moved forwards with her dental procedure. We began by placing an intravenous catheter and premedicated her with Maropitant 1mg/kg and Meloxicam 0.2mg/kg IV. Her induction medications consisted of Hydromorphone 0.075mg/kg IV and Dexmedetomidine 5mcg/kg IV. She was fully induced with Propofol 4mg/kg IV, using a total of 8mL. I intubated her with a 51Fr endotracheal tube. Her anesthesia was maintained with Isoflurane at 2% with oxygen gas flow rate at 2L/min. 

The tooth was first cut into 3 parts since it is a large two rooted tooth and then extracted piece by piece. The new hole created by the extracted tooth stretched into the attached gingiva and alveolar mucosa. The hole was then closed with 5-0 monocryl suture material which takes approximately 1-2 weeks to fully dissolve. 

The anesthetic portion of the procedure was relatively uneventful and her ECG, BP, ETCO2 and SPO2 were all within normal limits. I turned off her Isoflurane and kept her on fresh oxygen gas flow at 2L/min post-operatively for about 5 minutes. When she began coming-to, I disconnected her breathing circuit and untied her endotracheal tube from her head. She woke up slowly and when she began making full swallows, I then deflated her endotracheal tube cuff and extubated her. General rule of thumb is to wait for three full swallows before extubating animals. 

Before we went home, she was given another dose of Hydromorphone 0.075mg/kg IV to keep her pain under control for the night. She was sent home on Meloxicam PO and Gabapentin PO for 2 weeks. She was only allowed a soft food diet for the next 14 days and no hard toys/sticks were allowed.  

Overall, she did very good pre and post-operatively and I was very pleased that her source of pain was removed. The last photo of her is when we got home that day (:��

[babymetaldoll]

I've been working out a little bit (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Spencer has been working out with Penelope, and they are doing their best to keep it a secret. Until (Y/N) finds out and tries to help. And though he doesn't want to because he is embarrassed about his poor athletic performance, somehow she manages to help.  

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Curses, frustration. Good old fools in love.

Word count: 3.8K

A/N: Hello, pretty people! I've missed you! I hope you like this little story. It's one of the last requests pending on my list. Tomorrow I can finally visit my grandparents, I'll be taking care of them for at least two weeks, and though I know it's hard work, I am just so happy I can be with them again!! I miss them! Take care, whenever you are! Love you!

Masterlist

                                    𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

- "No fucking way, Spencer!" (Y/N) widened her eyes and laughed so hard tears filled her eyes. She was sitting at her desk at work, staring at her best friend, who could barely walk due to the two hours he had spent that morning training with Penelope.

- "Please, don't tell anyone."- he whispered and looked around the bullpen. He was too embarrassed already to let anyone else know he had to take the mandatory fit test. He wanted to avoid the jokes, especially Derek's.

- "Your secret is safe with me, as always, chipmunk"- (Y/N) smiled and bit her lips, trying not to laugh anymore- "But why on earth are you working out? You have enough case hours to cover a fit test!"

- "Apparently, I can't skip it this year. Both me and Penelope have to take it."- Spencer whispered and sat down very slowly, pain written all over his face.

His best friend stared at him reading the mix of embarrassment and physical pain he felt with each movement he made. (Y/N) smiled and opened one of her drawers, looking for the last Snicker she had hidden in case of need. Watching Spencer in pain was precisely the case. She stood up and handed him the candy, making his heart skip a beat. Spencer did his best to hide the blush on his cheeks and just looked away.

- "I can help you if you want."- (Y/N) whispered and cut him the most adorable smile she had.

- "Help me what?"

- "Working out."- she replied and bit her granola bar- "I can teach you how to kick ass, and I do look hot wearing sweat shorts."

Spencer nearly chook. He flushed and closed his eyes, trying to cover up his embarrassment. But (Y/N) giggled and turned around. Her job there was done. Now Spencer had to be picturing her in her sweat shorts.

Of course, he was. He couldn't stop, actually.

The two agents were the youngest of the team, and somehow sometimes in-between cases, it showed. Especially when they were on their own, and their conversations ended up in casual flirting.

(Y/N) was head over feet in love with Spencer, though she was never going to face it. God knows Penelope had tried to force her to deal with her feelings. But she was closed as an oyster. No matter how much Garcia insisted or how drunk they were, (Y/N) kept denying her true feelings in public.

Spencer wasn't indifferent. Not at all. As a matter of fact, he was in love with (Y/N). Everything about her bewitched him. Ever since the first time he laid eyes on her, he felt it. She was tailor-made for him. If only he weren't a nervous wreck each time he saw her...

After two years working together, Spencer had managed to overcome part of my shyness and awkwardness around (Y/N). They were best friends, and they would usually hang out in their free time. The little free time they had in the BAU. But even when they could playfully flirt all the time, Spencer was sure she didn't like him that way. He convinced himself she was just joking.

--

(Y/N) headed to the Batcave holding a large frappuccino and knocked on the half-opened door before walking in.

- "Penelope García, I had the feeling you were running caffeine low."

- "Oh my pretty little thing! How do you do it? You read my mind!"- the tech analyst nearly hyperventilated as soon as she held her ice and creamed coffee.

- "Reid and I were out for a little break, and I knew you would like one of these to cheer up your afternoon"- Garcia sipped her frappuccino and nodded. But as soon as she had finished savoring the perfect coffee, she asked.

- "So, you and Reid..."

- "We were out getting coffee, like the best friends we are."

- "But, there's coffee here in the kitchenette. There's no need to go out and get coffee unless you want to find an excuse to be alone with him."- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and sighed. Garcia did that every single chance she got.

- "You and I know the FBI doesn't share our concept of "good" coffee."- (Y/N) looked at her friend and just smiled- "Besides, I told you, I felt you needed some extra sugar and joy in your life after your early workout session this morning."

- "That little snitch!"- (Y/N) chuckled and shook her head.

- "Don't get mad at Reid. He didn't tell me anything. I kind of figured there was something wrong 'cos he looked in so much pain just breathing."

- "Oh man, he is sored, but I am sure he would be way sorer if you train with him."

- "I offered myself to help him"- Garcia raised an eyebrow at (Y/N) 's words, and the young agent wide opened her eyes, blushing- "Stop staring at me like I'm a perv! I meant helping him train for the test. I could help you too."

- "Thank you, but no, thank you. I trained with you, and there's no way we are going to do all that boxing again."

- "Come on! You said you had fun!"

- "I did! I really did... but I could barely move the next day! And I had a date! I couldn't even dance, less doing... other... nevermind"- Penelope stopped herself in her tracks and shook her head.

- "Shit, PG!"- (Y/N) closed her eyes and chuckled- "Spare me the details."

- "Sorry... anyway... you and the little genius should definitely train in a more... horizontal way."

- "Garcia! Stop it!"- (Y/N) laughed and stood up- "I'm gonna go back to work 'cos clearly you have some hormonal issues today, and you are projecting."

- "Stop acting like you haven't thought about it!"- Garcia said and chuckled as her friend walked away.

- "I'm not telling you anything."

- "That means yes!"

- "No! it doesn't!"- (Y/N) was blushing; that's why she refused to turn around and look at Penelope.

- "Oh! It so does!"

--

The end of that day found Spencer even more sore, hungry and weary than he had felt in years. All he wanted to do was go home, eat pizza leftovers from the night before, and go straight to bed.

Until...

- "Hey, chipmunk!"- (Y/N) looked at Spencer, gathering all his things and getting ready to go home.- "Dinner at my place tonight. My treat."

- "I can pick the take out tonight?"- he said immediately and asked himself where did that come from if, a second earlier, all he wanted to do was to go to bed. Probably from the same place that kept coming back to the image of her in sweat shorts.

- "Even better. I'll cook"- (Y/N) answered and winked, playfully- "You deserve a proper homemade dinner after all the workout you did this morning."

Spencer looked at her and didn't even notice the silly smile on his face. If he had known how in love he was looking, he would have probably slapped himself. (Y/N) sighed and stood up.

- "I'm gonna take that silence as a "Great (Y/N)! Thank you! How considered! I'm so lucky to have you in my life".

Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head.

- "Thank you, (Y/N). But I'll give you more praise if your food turns out to be eatable"- the young agent gasped, pretending to be insulted by his words, and hit Reid's arm with her knuckles.

- "Auch! (Y/N)!"

- "I'm being nice, and you are insulting me! I'm having second thoughts about driving you over!"

- "I can take the subway! You are such a slow driver I can actually be there faster."

Spencer stuck out his tongue at her and ran to the elevator, 'cos his friend widened her eyes and ran after him, probably to hit him again.

Morgan and Prentiss stared at the scene in silence, sharing a few looks, both of them thinking the exact same thing: "When are these two goofs ever going to hook up?"

- "They are annoying"- Rossi stood next to Emily's desk and crossed his arms on his chest.

- "They are in love"- she corrected, but David shook his head and sighed.

- "I know, and they are adorable, but it's so annoying staring at the same scene over and over again, waiting for something, anything, to happen between them."

- "Are you turning into a bitter old man who completely forgot about the charm of being young and in love?"- Prentiss raised an eyebrow and turned to Rossi. The Italian stared right into her eyes and shook his head.

- "I'm just saying someone should try to tell them something."

- "I've tried to talk to him about her a million times. But Reid is one private kid."- Derek said from his desk as the three of them stared at Spencer and (Y/N) getting into the elevator, still arguing and playfully playing.

- "And he is so insecure. He doesn't think she likes him."

- "Likes him? She is clearly in love with him!"- Prentiss said, annoyed- "I swear, if nothing happens between them this weekend, I'm going to intervene."

- "Now who is forgetting about the charm of being young and in love?"- Rossi joked and sighed- "Come on guys, dinner's on me."

--

(Y/N)' s dinner was a success. Spencer ate two portions of honey mustard-glazed chicken bake. She even managed to make him eat vegetables. And Spencer didn't even argue. Not only because it was delicious, and his body really needed some homemade dinner. But also 'cos (Y/N) got him wrapped around her fingers, even without knowing it. And if she asked him to eat veggies, Spencer (no matter how much he would argue) would eat his damn veggies. And he could actually enjoy them.

- "Ok, chipmunk, you ate all your food. You earned your dessert"- (Y/N) smiled and picked the dirty dishes from the table.

- "Let me do that. You already fed me. The least I can do is do the dishes."

Spencer followed her moves and took the dishes to the sink. (Y/N) didn't argue with that. It wasn't the first time Spencer cleaned the kitchen with her, after all. They had been good friends, close friends, for a long time, and they were used to being around each other.

But this time, it felt somehow different. Like there was something in the air warning them things were about to change for good.

- "Ok, doc. Do you wanna eat your dessert watching tv for a while?"- (Y/N) handed Spencer an ice cream bowl with chocolate chips on top and some whipped cream.

- "A smiley ice cream bowl?"- Spencer chuckled as he stared at it. He loved it.

- "Yes, you are never too old to eat food with a smile on it. And that's a life lesson, Spencer Walter Reid."- she said and walked to the couch, holding the remote control.

- "You are filled with wisdom, (Y/N)"- Reid teased her and sat by her side.

- "I know. It would help if you let me train you. You would pass your fit test in a blink."- she said and continued surfing channels.

- "Thanks, but no thanks. I wanna do it on my own."- Spencer glued his eyes on the screen and ate his dessert. (Y/N) just nodded and continued surfing channels.

- "Why?"- she asked him after a few minutes. They had been watching an old movie in silence, just eating their ice cream.

- "Why what?"- he whispered and looked at her just for a second. He didn't trust himself around (Y/N), especially under those circumstances: alone in her house. She had changed into leggings and an old extra-large sweatshirt. Her hair was in a messy bun. And Spencer didn't feel able to look at her into the eyes, 'cos he was going to cave in. He was going to grab her face with both hands and kiss her right there. No questions asked.

Which is why he avoided looking at her.

- "Why don't you want me to help you train?"

- "Just because"- he answered and glued his eyes to the screen. But (Y/N) knew better. She moved closer to him on the couch and held his hands. Spencer shivered right away at the sensation of her skin. It was so warm and soft. All he craved was some more of that. He wanted to feel her. Touch her. Taste her.

His head was going way too fast, and just because she held his hand.

- "Spencer, look at me"- she whispered and practically begged her friend to pay her attention- "I just wanna help. It's just a stupid fit test. It ain't hard."

- "For you."- he mumbled and looked down at his hand as her fingers played against his skin.

- "I didn't want you or anyone to help me 'cos I'm a fucking SSA who should be perfectly able to perform a simple fit test on his own. But no. I can't! And do you know what that means?"

- "That finally I know there's one thing you are not good at?"- she answered and smiled at him. Spencer raised his eyes and met hers. He knew his cheeks were all shades of pink, but for once, he just didn't care. He just wanted to look at her and see if she meant it. Or if she was just teasing him.

- "Right"- he snorted and shook his head.

- "I mean it, Spencer. You don't have to be good at everything."

- "It's a fit test. It's basic to be an agent. I need to be able to catch an unsub."- (Y/N) frowned and tried to understand where all that self-doubt and insecurity was coming from. To her eyes, Spencer had nothing to be ashamed of. To her, he was perfect in every single way.

- "You already catch unsubs, chipmunk. Everyday. You don't have to kick down doors to make a profile. And you don't have to run six miles to get the bad guy. Everything that you do every day at work is what an SSA is supposed to do. And you excel at it."

(Y/N) sighed and smiled at her best friend, trying to push aside the urge she felt to kiss him. His golden-brown eyes looked so big, like honey pools, she could stare for a lifetime. Spencer didn't know what to say. He really wasn't good with praises. He wasn't used to them. Not in that way.

- "Besides"- (Y/N) added after a few seconds of silence when she realized she might have said too much and started panicking.

- "It feels good to finally know there is one thing I am better than you at."

- "What are you talking about?"- Spencer answered right away, in the sassiest tone of voice.- "Just because I suck working out doesn't mean you are better. Even at my lowest, I'm still better than whatever you can do in a gym."

Reid was obviously joking. He knew (Y/N) could kick ass. Not only had she saved his life many times on the field, but also, he had seen her working out. And she could definitely kick his ass if she wanted to.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to tease her just because.

- "You take that back, Reid!"- she threatened him and

- "No"- he sentenced and crossed his arms on his chest

- "Last chance. Take it back, or you will pay for it."

- "Make me."

And that was it.

In a second, (Y/N) was on him tickling him, and trying to practice a chokehold on him. But Spencer was faster, and somehow, stronger than her. Maybe it was because he was struggling with himself. A part of him wanted her closer, and a part of him didn't want her too close, 'cos he knew his pants were going to start feeling too tight if she did.

Whatever the reason was, after two minutes of wrestling, Spencer had (Y/N) pinned down against the couch. And the way she panted against the fabric of the cushion wasn't helping him with his pants.

- "Spencer, it hurts"- she cried and tried to move from his grip, but he didn't let her go.

- "If you want me to release you, you have to say I am the best agent in this house."

- "Never!"- (Y/N) quickly answered and continued struggling.

- "Just say it, I've got you held, and I'm not going to let you free until you say it."- something in his tone of voice, it was teasing but also... sexy? (Y/N) knew Spencer wasn't trying to act that way, but it was working for her in a way she hadn't imagined. He would be so soft. And now, there he was, acting like a dominant man, holding her tight, not letting her move, literally pinned against the couch.

If only it were all happening in a different context.

- "Let me go, Spencer Reid!"- (Y/N) battled against his arms, but it was useless

- "Just say it"- he leaned in and whispered in her ear, and (Y/N) sword she could almost feel his smile as he spoke.

- "You are the best agent!! There, happy?"- she mumbled, making her best to sound annoyed and not turned on. Spencer released her, and she quickly sat down properly, rubbing her left wrist.

- "Did I hurt you?"- Spencer whispered and noticed how flustered she was. That was a first.

- "No. But I gotta tell you, you are stronger than I thought."- she said and stuck out her tongue to him, trying to be playful and innocent, though you could feel it in the air. That moment was anything but innocent.

- "Yeah, I've been working out a little bit."- Spencer answered and chuckled at his own words.

- "Well, you are going to have to learn how to control your new strength, 'cos this is going to leave a bruise"- (Y/N) whined and showed him her sore wrist. Spencer winced, ashamed he had been so hard on her without meaning any harm. He moved closer to her and held her wrist carefully. (Y/N) just looked at him as he kissed her wrist a few times.

That man couldn't be real. He was such a tease.

Did he know all the things he was, in fact, doing to her with that simple touch?

He surely had to know. Otherwise, there was no explanation, she thought.

- "Thanks"- (Y/N) whispered and fixed her eyes on his lips, still landing small kisses on her wrist.

That was when she stopped breathing. Spencer was literally breathtaking. He smiled at her, and she just couldn't help it anymore. (Y/N) leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft, short peck. But she had dared to do the unthinkable.

She kissed her best friend.

Spencer widened his eyes, shocked, and looked at her, not saying a word. They just stayed still for a good thirty seconds until Spencer finally made his move, cupping her jaw carefully with both hands and pulling her face against his.

The way she moaned into the kiss made him feel more in control than he had ever been before.

It was a soft kiss but intense. Spencer's lips rubbed carefully against her mouth, and his tongue moved carefully, making its way until he could taste her. (Y/N) moved closer to him until she was basically sitting on his lap, and his arms wrapped around her body, locking her against him.

They were in heaven.

Until it was over. Their phones buzzed at the same time, breaking the spell, ending the charm. (Y/N) jumped from Spencer's arms and grabbed her phone.

- "We've got a case"- she whispered and turned to him. He was agitated, his cheeks were red, his pants felt tight, and he was starving for more of those kisses.

- "Ok."- he replied but didn't move.

- "I'm gonna change, then we can go."- (Y/N) added, but he didn't say a word. To be fair, Spencer wasn't processing what was going on. He was still trying to elaborate a coherent thought. And most of all, he was fighting the boner in his pants that didn't let him stand up.

You could blame all the sugar in his body after the massive bowl of ice cream, or all the praising (Y/N) had given him, but Spencer found a new level of courage in that kiss. He decided it was time to stop overthinking it. It was time to act on his feelings.

- "(Y/N)"- Reid knocked on her bedroom door and heard her from the walking closet.

- "I'm almost ready. Did you talk with Garcia?"

- "No, but I don't wanna leave things like this. I wanted to talk about what just happened."

(Y/N) sighed and took a look at herself in the mirror. She could still feel her cheeks burning after that kiss, after feeling her best friend hard underneath her body, holding her against him. But she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what Reid was about to say. Most of all, because she was sure it was going to be something along the lines: "That kiss was a mistake, you are my friend. I don't wanna ruin this."

- "That kiss was..."- he mumbled and walked to her as soon as she showed up in the room, but words were hard to find when she looked at him that way.

- "Spencer, I..."- she tried to speak, but he just continued.

- "Would you like to..."

- "Pretend it didn't happen?"

- "Go out on a date with me?"- the two of them said at the same time and widened their eyes in shock.

- "What?"- (Y/N) questioned and stared at her best friend in shock- "You want to go out with me?"

- "You want to pretend it never happened?"- he asked her, scared he might have rushed to the wrong conclusions.

- "No, no, no, I don't... I can't pretend it didn't happen"- (Y/N) quickly answered and held Spencer's hand, afraid she might have ruined everything.

- "I was just scared you were going to reject me or..."- (Y/N) bt her lips and dared to look at him- "I wanna go out on a date with you"- she whispered and watched his whole face change as a big silly grin drawn on his lips.

- "Really?"- he murmured, still not sure it was actually happening. He asked her out. She said yes. He was sure that was never going to happen in real life.

- "Really"- she assured him and leaned in slowly to kiss him one more time. But her phone rang again, and so did his. This time it was a message from Hotch. Wheels up as soon as they reached the FBI.

- "But after we catch the bad guy."- (Y/N) added, and Spencer chuckled.

- "Sounds like a plan."

Spencer Reid’s taglist: 

@calm-and-doctor @all-tings-diego

Requested by @shilohpug​ 

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Fem!Stark!Reader) -- part three

I did not expect to get so invested in this damn fic but here I am :))

Summary: The one in which Tony invites you to the “family dinner” but you sleep through it. Also, the “Father Test,” as Tony calls it.

Warnings: angst (what’s new?), talk of food/eating (so sorry, I should’ve tagged this a lot sooner!), medical stuffs (needles, blood being drawn)

A few hours pass by slowly as you doze, floating in between sleep and consciousness, both places completely unsoothing to you.

You wake abruptly when FRIDAY’s voice echoes throughout the room. “Do Not Disturb overridden by Tony Stark.”

With a groan, you sit up, listening to Tony knock — though surprised that he even does.

“Come in,” you sigh.

The door swings open and Tony opens his mouth to speak, but stops when he sees you on the floor. “What…” He glances between you and the bed, giving you an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with the perfectly new bed I gave you?”

“The least of your concerns should be that I’m taking a nap on the floor,” you deadpan. “What do you want?”

“Dinner will be ready in a few,” he says, still looking at you all concerned. “We have a family dinner once a week to...build rapport.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He continues. “You live here now, so...you’re invited. Wanda and Pepper will be there. Bucky, too.” Tony pauses. “Bucky didn’t bother you earlier, did he?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, good.”

“You bothered me, Tony.”

“Right,” Tony nods. “Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have brought that stuff up. I should’ve just been happy that you’re okay.” He pauses again, like he’s having trouble putting all the words together. “I am, by the way. Glad you’re okay. I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Thanks,” you say slowly. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Tony offers a half-smile, half-grimace, because what you don’t know is that he has FRIDAY currently working on a full, extensive background check on your mom. And you, but your mom is top priority. Ever since the conversation in MedBay earlier, he’s been worried. For your safety — both past, present, and future. But he’s also worried about who you really are — and the worst worry of all is that you might not even know.

“Anyway, dinner in a few,” he says. “Nothing fancy. Come as you are, all that bullshit.”

You snicker at his reference.

He tries not to think of it as too much of a win. “Oh and,” he points to the bed, “it really is new. No one’s slept in it before you. And you can adjust the settings on it — softness, heating, cooling, all that. Just,” he pauses again. “FRIDAY, will you show Y/N the control panel?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Your eyes widen when a hologram appears next to the bed, projected onto the wall. There, all the settings — and many more — that Tony mentioned are shown.

“When you get it set where you like, FRIDAY can save it for you,” he explains. “Just for whenever you feel like sleeping in a bed again. I guess.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, looking over at him. “Really, thank you, Tony.”

“No problem, munchkin.” He smiles fully this time as he leaves, closing your door. And to your surprise, he activates Do Not Disturb again.

Food is the last thing on your mind, so instead you head over to the hologram on the wall.

You spend the next hour and a half fixing the settings. Once you get it just right, though, you lie down and you sleep.

Soundly. For five hours.

+++

When you wake again, you’re confused and disoriented to find yourself sleeping in a bed. But you love that your back, shoulders, and hips aren’t screaming in pain for once.

One glance out the window tells you that you’ve definitely missed the dinner Tony invited you to, but you don’t care all that much. You’ve met everyone individually. You didn’t really need or want to go to a big dinner. It seemed pointless.

But, unfortunately, you are hungry, so you drag yourself out of bed to go to the kitchen in search of something resembling food.

One glance at the clock in the hall tells you it’s just past midnight, so you relax even more, knowing you won’t encounter anyone.

Or at least, you hoped.

There, leaned against the kitchen counter, straight up guzzling a glass of water, is Bucky.

At least it’s him, you think.

Bucky smiles gently when he sees you coming. “Hey.”

You offer a slight nod and a quiet “Hey” in return, going straight to the fridge.

“Oh, the plate in there is yours,” he says. “Top shelf.”

You look up and spot it, your eyes widening as you grab it. Did they eat monstrous portions here or something? It must weigh five pounds or something crazy.

As if reading your mind, Bucky says, “Sorry there’s so much. I think Tony went overboard.”

You blink down at the food. Tony made you a plate? You expected Pepper to do it, if anyone. Quite frankly, you weren’t expecting it at all. You figured they wouldn’t even notice your absence.

Bucky wordlessly steps to the side, giving you access to the microwave. It even looks expensive, which makes you snort. It’s touchscreen. Of-fucking-course.

“We missed you at dinner,” Bucky says. You didn’t know he liked to talk this much.

“I fell asleep,” you confess with a laugh. “Tony uh, showed me the controls for the bed.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “No more sleeping on the floor for you, then?”

You shrug.

“I sleep on the floor most nights, too,” Bucky continues, taking in a deep breath. “It’s just…”

“Normal,” you finish quietly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It feels normal.”

You turn back to the microwave, opening the door a second before it beeps. The food is warm enough now, you guess. Where the hell are the forks, though?

After opening two drawers, Bucky realizes what you’re looking for. “Here.” He opens the drawer across from you and pulls out a fork.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. “Night.”

He nods and gives a slight wave. “Night.”

+++

The next day, Pepper stops by your room with a ton of clothes, shoes, and a phone.

“Uhm, thanks…”

“I know it’s a lot,” she smiles gently. “And if you don’t like anything, just let me know. Or if I didn’t get anything that you need, let me know, too.” She pauses. “You don’t have to do it now.”

“Okay,” you sigh, trying not to feel overwhelmed, but it’s hard. There’s like...fifteen bags on your bed right now. Not to mention the boxes of shoes that are stacked on the floor. And the new phone, still in the box, that you’re holding in your hand.

Pepper points to the phone. “It should have my number, Tony’s number, and the rest of the Avengers programmed in there. You’ll see one named Happy, that’s just Tony’s assistant, just in case. You don’t have to talk to everyone on there, but they do have your number as well. It’s all a precautionary thing. Oh, and the phone can be tracked.” She pauses, lowering her voice. “Just a heads up. In case Tony goes crazy.”

You smile at that. “Thanks.” As if he hasn’t already gone crazy and driven you closer to insanity, too.

“Speaking of Tony,” she says. “He’s willing to do the paternity test whenever you are.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Is today good?”

Pepper blinks. “I don’t see why not.”

“Okay, just...I’ll put some clothes on first.” You’re still wearing what Wanda gave you.

“Yeah, of course,” she nods. “I’ll let Tony know and whenever you’re ready, you can just ask FRIDAY to take you to the lab.”

“Okay.”

Pepper leaves you be, while you get dressed, and it takes you a lot longer than you were expecting.

There are so many clothes.

After finding something somewhat comfortable (and because you’re tired of looking through the bags), you grab your phone, though it feels foreign having it in your pocket.

“FRIDAY...where is the lab?”

“If you head to the elevator, I’ll take you there.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

Following FRIDAY’s orders, you head to the elevator and step inside. The doors close and the elevator begins to move, and when it stops, the doors behind you open.

“Welcome to Mr. Stark’s lab.”

Hesitantly, you step off, and you’re met with blaring music.

“Really?” You scream, and Tony lifts his head. “AC/DC? Really?”

The volume lowers a little while Tony replies. “You know your music. I’m impressed.”

“I’m disappointed,” you say. “I prefer Pink Floyd.”

Tony smirks. ‘Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2’ begins to play. You hate that you grin, but you do.

“Much better,” you comment. “Pepper told me to come here?”

He nods. “Right, the Father Test.”

You snort. Of course he calls it that.

“We’ll have to head down to MedBay to do it. I’ll be done in just a second.” He taps something on the screen before looking back up. “Did Pepper give you your phone?”

“Yeah.” You pull the device from your pocket and wave it. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded without a phone,” Tony replies. “Also, just for the foreseeable future, don’t leave the Tower without someone. Preferably without me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. You hadn’t thought about leaving and going anywhere until now. “Why?”

“Well, for one, you have an arrest warrant,” he reminds you. “They won’t question it if I’m with you. Which is why it needs to be me — Steve is also fine. But, let’s say, if you left with Bucky, they wouldn’t hesitate to grab both of you.”

“Wasn’t he pardoned or something?”

“Doesn’t mean no one holds a grudge against him.”

You nod. “Right.” Then, you reel back. “So you’re not going to turn me in?”

He shrugs. “I believe you. Even though you won’t tell me who stabbed you.” He taps something else, then drags the screen, and a hologram appears right in front of him.

You roll your eyes. “Because I don’t know who they were. I told you.”

“And I still think you’re lying,” he retorts.

You glare at him through the hologram.

A few more minutes pass where all that fills the silence is Pink Floyd. You’re not complaining, but even Tony’s breathing is grating to your ears.

Once he’s finally finished with whatever the hell he was doing, he heads to the elevator, and you silently follow him.

+++

This time when you enter MedBay, it’s empty, aside from the on-site doctor, Dr. Cho.

“Here for the Father Test,” Tony quips, smirking when Dr. Cho rolls her eyes at him.

You like Dr. Cho already.

“Alright,” she says, putting a pause on what she was doing. “It’s just a simple cheek swab and a little blood.”

“Blood?” You ask. You hate having your blood drawn. Not because of the needle, but because of the idea of your blood being drawn out of your body and used for things you’re unaware of.

It’s creepy.

“Just a small amount,” Dr. Cho assures you with a soft smile. “It acts as a double-check for the paternity test. The cheek swab can give us a general yes or no, but blood is definitive.”

You agree, you just hate it.

First is the cheek swab and Dr. Cho lets you do it, probably sensing your anxiety. She refuses to let Tony do his on his own, but that probably has something to do with how much of a child he is.

Tony gets his blood drawn first, and it is too short for your liking, because once he’s done, Dr. Cho preps you.

Your head is turned the other way while she wipes your skin. Tony moves into your line of vision, and you’re ready to tell him to fuck off before he teases you, but he doesn’t.

He just talks to you.

“Barnes told me you fell asleep yesterday.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Yeah. That’s why I missed dinner. He said you made a plate for me?”

“I did,” Tony nods. “I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

“I could tell,” you snort. “There was enough food on the plate to feed four of me.”

He chuckles. “Did you at least eat?”

“Yeah, I did,” you say. “It was good.”

“Good. How’s the bed?”

“Really good,” you say. “Thanks for showing me the controls and stuff.”

“No problem,” he shrugs. “Nat asked me earlier if you’d like to train with her and Wanda.”

“Train?”

“Yeah, train, workout, whatever you want to call it. Barnes and Rogers usually run if that’s more your speed, Wilson, too, when he’s here.”

“Who’s Wilson?”

“Sam,” Tony fills in. “Falcon.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“He’s in...Louisiana right now, but he should be back here in a few days, so you’ll meet him.” He pauses. “But...stay away from him.”

“Why?”

“He’s...flirty.”

You nearly wheeze. “Are you joking?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “I’ve been meaning to say that about Barnes, too. I don’t care if you talk to him. I think it’s good for him — and you. But don’t…” He waves his hands in an ambiguous manner.

“Tony, the absolute last thing on my mind right now is a boyfriend, but even if it was, why would you have any say in it?” You counter.

“Because I know them, and I don’t want them anywhere near you,” he says, like that’s the end of it. “All done, Dr. Cho?”

“All done,” she confirms, and that’s when you feel her pressing a Band-Aid over your skin.

Your head whips around. You didn’t even feel the needle go in or out. What the fuck?

You look back at Tony with a small smile. “Well played.”

“You’re welcome,” he smirks. “Though, I wasn’t kidding.”

You roll your eyes. “Not even Nat or Wanda?”

He looks surprised, but still shakes his head. “Still no.”

“Darn. My plans have been foiled.”

This time when he looks at you, he smiles.

As the two of you are walking to the elevator, he says, “Want to help me in the lab? I’ll let you control the music — just this once.”

You almost say yes, but you’re not really in the mood. “No, thanks though. I really should go through all the clothes Pepper brought me.”

“Ah, right,” he nods. “She told me she went shopping.”

“Yeah…” You exhale. “She went.”

You step onto the elevator after him, and he presses the floors for you and the lab.

“You know, Wanda might help you sort through the clothes if you ask. She might wear whatever you don’t want.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll ask.”

“She’s training right now, though.”

You nod. “Okay. It can wait, I guess.”

Tony rocks on his heels. “I could really use an extra set of hands…”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

He grins. “You still want to control the music?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you play AC/DC the whole time.”

[dihra-vesa]

Lilium

It all started with a tease...

This is for my lovely @asta-lily

Thank you for being a friend and such a f*** good author.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem! Reader

A/N: and the first warning. I am not an author! I have not written, spoken or read much English in the last 10 years and have never written more than a few business letters.

So please be gentle with me...

A few things popped in my head when asta-lily wrote that Oberyn was distracting her while trying to write headcanons and couldn't resist teasing her and then this somehow happend.

Our lovely Lils encouraged me to finish and share it with you.

Thank God sweet and kind @yespolkadotkitty beta'd for me so I don't embarrass myself too much.

Words: ~1450

Warnings: It's Oberyn... nudity and a little yearning and slightly smutty so NO MINORS below 18

Sooo.. Here goes nothing...

Lilium

Oberyn wanted to let you write, for a while at least, sat on his lap, dressed only in an alluring, sheer forest green gown, curves visible beneath it.

After feeding you with some carefully selected fruit and leisurely sipping at his rich wine, he observes you closely.

You seem strained, shoulders pulled up, rolling your head from side to side, the tendons of your beautiful elegant neck taut.

His brows furrowed. You seem to feel discomfort, something he resents deeply.

Reaching forward to pull out the pins holding your hair intricately arranged high on your head, he lets the tresses tumble, unhindered, down your back. His fingers comb through them, and he revels at their silken feel . He smiles faintly at your contented sigh after having your crown freed of such a substantial weight.

Bewildered by what had compelled him to such a measure, you gaze over your shoulder raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“You seem to be in some discomfort, sweet blossom. I will do anything in my power to relieve it,” the Prince murmurs, a slight smile on his lips.

As you look back towards the desk, Oberyn’s strong, deft fingers begin to massage your scalp, working from your brow down to the base of your head in slow small circular motions, easing the built up tension. The bliss of it makes you let out a small moan.

He moves forward, his mouth at your ear. "These noises delight me. Should I relax you further? Hmmm?”

His raspy voice, hot breath and suggestive words send shivers through you, all the little hairs flaring up, the heat in your core rearing its head.

“My love, please do not distract me, I have to finish this today-” you try to ignore his nose nuzzling your ear and his lips nibbeling at your sensitive skin.

Grumbling deep in his chest, raising an eyebrow, he sits back, sliding your hair forward, strong fingers gliding down the nape of your neck to your shoulders, moving the delicate sleeves towards your elbow, hereby exposing your chest, the gauzy material gathering at the swell of your breasts.

“My only intention is to ease the strain on these beautiful muscles. You always ease my aches after hours of training, let me do the same for you in recompense, my Petal.”

He intensifies the pressure, fingertips dancing on bunched muscles underneath your skin.

You want to stay calm, focus on the parchment in front of you, but the bittersweet blend of pain and relief stalls any hope of getting the task done. You let out a gasp when his weapon-callused hands stray to either side of your sternum just above the crest of your breasts, to firmly pull back over your tense chest muscles, only then to brush lightly over your clavicles. You can’t resist closing your eyes and leaning back into his broad, warm chest, arching your spine to accentuate your full breasts, the now hardened tips of your bosom clearly visible, aching under the delicate material. You yearn for his touch.

But he does not respond to what you so clearly offered!

Before you can voice your growing vexation with him, his dark, husky voice drawles in your ear. “My dear. I need access to all of this magnificent body to complete the task properly.”

His hands move back over your shoulders and down your arms, thus slipping the upper portion of the gown off your torso, letting it pool in your lap, as delicate as seafoam.

“Now. Lean forward towards the desk - and brace yourself.” His tone soft, but carries a slight hint of command.

A small whimper leaves your lips as you’re denied the caresses you long for. You shift forward, hands clasping the edge of the heavy desk. In doing so the full roundness of your derriere presses deeper into his crotch, and you sense the stiffening of his formidable cock beneath you.

Hmmmm… it appears he’s not as tranquil as his demeanour suggests, having all that naked skin at his mercy you think, rolling your hips a little to at least gain some delicious friction if denied everything else.

But he will have none of it, constraining you, hindering the movement.

“My Prince,” you mewl, true fire igniting in your depths.

“I will not be deterred, Lovely. Behave now your Prince may see to reward you appropriately”

As he leans forward to place his hands back on your shoulders you can feel his finespun robes ghosting your skin, the wisplike contact making you shudder.

Following the trapeze muscle downward, his thumbs dig into your flesh, pressing vigorously all along your spine, down to your sacrum, the triangle just above your substantial, round backside, then moving back up to repeat the fluid motion.

Every time you try to arch your back into the bittersweet pressure of his touch, he stops as it also gives you the pleasure of grinding into his now fully hardened cock. Craving him to continue his tantalising torture, you cease your movement.

On his final ascending movement, Oberyn fans out his hands, his clever thumbs under the edge of your shoulder blades, fingers lightly pressing in the muscled space in between your ribs, slowly working forward under your heaving breasts - still not touching them.

The need for him to cup your breasts, knead them, pinch their peaks is nearly overwhelming! Biting your bottom lip, you try to muffle the frustrated whine, but to no avail.

And then you hear him chuckling deep in his chest.. ‘How dare he!’ you think, irritation turning into anger.

You are just about to turn on him when his hands move down your abdomen to the apex of your mound, fingers just touching your curls then wandering outward to grip your hip bones. Angling forward to place a kiss at the nape of your neck he breathes, “I like it when you're a good girl for me, my little flower.”

You quiver uncontrollably, the juices in between your folds pooling.

“Now, stand for me, there is yet more of you that needs my attention,” he rasps, slowly easing you off his thighs.

Moving the chair back, he stands behind you, bodies nearly touching, the heat of his broad form radiating toward your bare torso, the difference in temperature giving you goosebumps.

His hands reach around you, fingering the material for the ties of the sash holding the gown upon your rounded hips.

With a rush of fabric, you now stand naked before him. You risk a quick glance at him over your shoulder, lips parted, breath elevated in excitement of what is to come.

“Keep your hands on the desk and your eyes forward, my Sweet,” he orders and just as you turn your head back you see him going down on his knees behind you, gently widening your stance.

You close your eyes and moan audibly at the thought of your Prince seeing how wet you are for him, your juices threatening to spill from your folds any moment.

Oberyn has a smug grin on his face, his thumb tracing his lower lip, silver ring glinting, silently reveling in your desire for him - ‘Soon, I will part those dew drenched petals my lustful Flower’ - not giving away his intentions just yet.

“Lift your delicate little foot back for me,” his hand gently encloses your ankle, and even though you are somewhat confused by his request you oblige only to exult at the sensations when he manipulates first the one, then the other foot, pushing on pressure points that roil nerves all over your body.

When you stand back on two feet, his hands massage both calves, slowly wandering upwards.

His warm breath, coming more rapidly, flows over your skin as he starts kneading the now trembling flesh of your thighs, you pant in earnest, your pussy contracting, making your fluids flow from your folds spilling down the insides of your legs.

“Please, Oberyn…” is all you can beg of him, in a wail. You can’t resist looking back, pure want and desire for your prince in your eyes.

Slowly he gets back to his feet, holding your gaze with near black, lust-blown eyes. One hand slowly caresses the cheeks of your ass, the other two fingers slide up your inner leg, catching your cream to bring it to his lips. He licks the digits clean with a long, sensual, hungry moan.

“Oh my beautiful Lily, you bloom so well for me. This is finer than any treasure in the Kingdom of Dorne. Are you prepared to receive me now, little one?”

As he smiles, slowly, his belt and gilded robe drop to the floor, pooling like liquid gold.

[blu-eh]

after school summons

[AO3] 

or: Danny gets summoned. He doesn’t like it.

It starts with a tugging feeling in his very core.

Danny Fenton pauses. If there’s one thing he’s learned in the last year, it is not to ignore random things that are definitely ghostly in origin. He has just enough time to place his pencil on the desk from where he had dutifully been doing his homework—for the first time in two weeks, mind you—before his vision goes white, he hears a snap, and suddenly he’s not in his room anymore.

For a moment he’s weightless, lost in the feeling of falling. Then, his body jerks and he has just enough time to think, oh fuck—before he’s slammed to the ground hard.  His knees buckle under the unexpected weight and he goes down, clumsily, and trying not to throw up what little he’d managed to eat between homework packets.

“Ow,” Danny says.

He lies there, just for a moment, taking in the cool concrete underneath him. He tries to steady his breathing just enough so his mind can process what the hell just happened in the last thirty seconds. He’s still blinking stars from his eyes when he hears the hushed whispers echo around him and a heavy pair of footsteps approaching him. All in all, very bad signs when mysterious (and somewhat painful) things happen to you suddenly.

A gruff, questioning voice asks, “A child?”

“Oh, man,” Danny says, because that definitely does not sound good. Then he forces himself to his knees and looks up.

The first and foremost thing Danny notices is that he’s not alone. He’s on some sort of altar or platform, elevated a foot or so above the ground. A couple feet away, a group of no more than a dozen people surround him in a semi-circle, faces all covered by tattered cloaks. Another cloaked figure, dressed in much more formal robes with gold trimming, stands on the platform a mere couple feet from where Danny is. They all seem to be staring at him, waiting.

Danny hastily gets to his feet. He shifts a little into a sloppy fighting stance, just in case things were to get messy.

The dimly-lit warehouse room and the head covers don’t give him much to work with in the facial feature department, but he’s pretty confident that none of them are ghosts. Mostly from the fact that none of them are glowing and/or ranting about how much of a pain in the ass he is, but it still pays to be wary. Especially when Danny’s situations tend to quickly dissolve from bad to oh my god there are ghosts lose in Amity Park and also he maybe-sort of-possibly died in the process.  

Which brings him back to his next brilliant deduction; he’s definitely in ghost form. He definitely was not in ghost form before this. His ghost form is rather obvious considering he sticks out like a glow stick in darkness of the warehouse. He doesn’t even feel the need to check his hair color, this time, but that’s more due to the fact that he doesn’t want to take his eyes off the weird people who managed to summon him from his bedroom and forced him to change into his ghost form.

(He desperately hopes that they hadn’t seen him change—weird warehouse people are not people that Danny generally associates with secret keeping.)

“Is this a cult thing?” Danny asks before any of them can speak. He takes in white line that surrounds him, and the red liquid (which he very much hopes is not blood) used to paint runes and symbols that circle him, and their weird cloak-like robes, and says, “This is definitely a cult thing. Oh my god, did you summon me? Seriously—”

Before this, he hadn't even known he could be summoned. It's just the little ghostly things learned via accident, sometimes, that truly take the icing on the cake.

There’s a tiny spark of anxiety in his gut, but honestly there’s a large difference between humans threatening him and ghosts threatening him. On one hand, he’d take weird cultist over Skulker’s lair any day. On the other hand, pure white walls and experimentation tables aren’t super high on his to visit list either. Worst comes to worst—before they sacrifice him to some ancient gods, more likely—he puts on his scary face (and maybe adds a couple of explosions) and slips out before they even notice he’s missing.

“Silence, creature,” the robed man snaps. Danny zeros in on him and immediately deduces him to be leader from vibes alone. Also the gold trimming on his robe, which very much screams leader of weird cult that summons ghost kids.

“I—okay, you know what? That was just rude,” Danny says. He points to the white line that surrounds him, “Is that cocaine?”

Danny has a feeling he doesn’t want to know the answer to the mysterious red liquid and painted symbols, so he doesn’t ask.

“It’s salt,” one of the other cloaked figures answers, like it should be obvious.

(It’s not actually obvious, and actually leaves Danny with more questions than he started with. Mostly in the realm of how did a group of cultists summon him with salt. He knows salt is supposedly an anti-ghost measure, but Danny is pretty convinced it has little to no effect on him considering the amount of Nasty Burger fries he’s consumed haven’t taken him out yet.)

“Salt,” Danny repeats. He pauses, then awkwardly tags on, “That’s good, I guess, because drugs are bad. Uh, don’t do drugs.”

A cultist quietly, and a little slowly, answers back, “We, uh, don’t.”

“Right,” Danny says. His eyes catch another section of weird in this already weird, cultist warehouse. At the base of the platform sits a variety of bones, so fresh that some of the muscle still clings to them. “Are those bones? Oh my god, did you sacrifice someone? That’s not cool! Murder isn’t cool!”

“Those are goat bones,” another follower says.

“Oh,” Danny says. “Well, I mean, that’s still fucked up on a variety of levels, but I guess that’s better than murder. Unless it's considered goat murder? Uh.”

For a second, there’s silence. The nature of the interaction is so awkward and oppressing that he almost goes invisible just to save himself the scrutiny of these random people and get the hell out of dodge. His curiosity is the only thing that holds him back—that, and the fact that he’s not quite sure if any of these people are secretly hiding ecto-weapons.

Danny very much does not want to be shot tonight.

He looks around the room, eyes taking in every inch of the sparsely decorated warehouse. There’s nothing that immediately grabs his attention, nor anything that really screams danger but it pays to be suspicious of his surroundings in his line of work. A few of the cultists notice this, and start shifting awkwardly as Danny looks over them as well.

Then, Danny’s eyes flicks back to the lead cultist and he says, “I’m going to be real honest here and say that I have no idea what the heck is going on.”

The leader makes no inclination that he acknowledges any word that comes from Danny’s mouth. Instead, he brings an old, wrinkled hand up to his face, like he’s thinking about some complex problem. The leader circles Danny once, then again, and Danny feels something inside him defensively coil like a spring.

He tries not to be bothered when people treat him as something lesser—it’s not, exactly, uncommon for him to encounter. He dealt with being shoved into lockers long before he died, anyways. It doesn’t stop his shoulders from tensing just the barest amount.

Instead of showing this, he brings his feet up to his chest and crosses them mid-air, and fakes a yawn for good measure. A few of the other cultists gasp in wonder and fear. The leader simply stops his prowling and turns to face Danny.

“So this is the fabled Ghost King,” the man says, like he expected better.

Danny feels he should almost be offended if it isn’t for the tiny detail that these cultists—who summoned him by using salt and goat bones—assume he is the ghost king. “…Did you seriously confuse me with Pariah Dark?”

The man pauses, and asks, “Pariah Dark?”

“Yes! He’s like fifteen feet tall, has a huge sword, is a pain in the ass, and has, like, an entire ghost army. I have, I dunno, pre-calc homework in my bag. We are not the same.”

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. Danny bares his teeth in their direction, just to see them squirm. A couple take worried steps back and Danny fights off a satisfied grin.

Hey, poke a bull and get the horns. In this case, summon a ghost-teenager and get the ecto-powers.

(He’s slowly becoming more and more aware that these people have no idea what they’re doing.)

“I see,” the leader says. From his tone, he definitely does not see. “It doesn’t matter. Our book summoned the King of Ghosts and that is you, so you will do as we tell you and your pain will be lessened.”

“I am still not the Ghost King,” Danny tells him. “And no thanks. I’ve already used my yearly cult sign up and I can’t say I’m thrilled to join another. If you’re going to hold an initiation ceremony, at least decorate a bit first. Uh, not counting the goat bones and salt, of course.”

“You have no choice,” the leader snaps and steps a bit closer to him. Danny merely raises an eyebrow. “We are the Followers of Infernal. We have summoned you to serve us. You are bound to our will and bound to our grace, as the book foretold. Now bow, demon, for we are your new masters.”

There’s a very large portion of Danny Fenton that is convinced any good karma he held in life did not pass with him during his death a mere year ago. An even larger portion of him is convinced that these guys are no more serious than the GIW is. Danny does not tell the cultists this.

Instead, he squints and says, “Alright. I definitely failed US Government, but I’m pretty sure that’s not legal. Don’t you guys need like, a permit to summon undead beings of mass power?”

“It thinks it’s funny.” The leader’s face is mostly hidden by his robe, but Danny can imagine the sneer there from his tone alone.

“Trust me, I’m not the one who’s a joke right now,” Danny says. He looks back over at the dozen or so followers and grins at them. They don’t seem too keen that he’s not following their master’s orders and bending to their will. He turns back to the leader. “What’s in it for me?”

“What?”

“If I follow you and stuff, what’s in it for me?”

The leader pauses, then says, “You will be spared of punishment.”

“Hmm, that’s not good enough,” Danny says. He angles his body so he's once again looking at the followers and points at one in the middle. “Hey, you! With the cloak. No, not you, the other dude. To the left. Yeah! You. What do you have to offer me?”

The follower looks so startled that he cowers for a second. Then, seeing as he hadn’t been reduced to a pile of ashes from Danny’s gaze alone, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small and silver. “Uh, I have a paper clip, your ghostliness.”

“A paper clip,” Danny repeats. “Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever. That sounds neat.”

“You’ll submit to us?” the man sounds so hopeful that Danny almost feels bad for being a jerk. Then, he remembers that they summoned him out of his nice, warm bedroom at ass-o’clock in the night and feels significantly less amounts of pity.

“No, dude, I’m not being your sack of potatoes for a paper clip. Man, you guys are stupid.” Danny rolls his eyes and floats just a bit higher. The other followers shuffle around again, uncomfortable. In front of him, the leader remains impassive as ever. “Where even am I?”

“The lair which you will spend the rest of your afterlife,” the leader says.

“Okay, this is definitely a warehouse, firstly. And secondly, dude, I meant what state.”

“…Wisconsin,” the man allows because of course everything terrible happens in Wisconsin.

“You chose the worst state to have your crappy lair,” Danny tells them. Now he has to fly a couple hundred miles home and hope he gets there by morning, all the while avoiding his creepy, obsessed arch-nemesis. He wonders if Vlad is even aware there’s a ghost-obsessed cult in his home state. Probably not. “Nothing good ever comes from Wisconsin. You can take that as, like, ghostly wisdom or something.”

“Hey,” one of the cultists says, offended. “The Packers are in Wisconsin.”

“Nothing good,” Danny repeats, firmly.

“Enough of this nonsense,” the leader says. “It’s trying to distract you because it fears control. Briar, bring me the orb.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them says.

The followers mutter to themselves and teeter around in their positions. The woman who spoke, on the end, bows and scurries off. Danny watches as she runs through the darkness of the warehouse, footsteps echoing around them, until he can no longer see her among the darkness.  

“Hey, if they already listen to you then why do you need me?” Danny asks. The leader doesn’t answer, so Danny floats a bit on his side and puts his arms behind his head. “What kind of orb are we talking about, anyways? Like one of those Spirit Halloween ones? Or is it more like orbeeze? I can’t saw I’m super excited from your ominous it fears control statement, but—"

“Silence, beast,” the leader says.

Danny huffs. “I’m just asking. No need to be so snippy.”  

The man ignores him which, rude. Danny’s just about to see how far he can test this guy’s patience when Briar comes back, just as quickly as she had disappeared. She jogs through the warehouse and up the steps of the platform. Danny can’t see her face, but from the way her hood moves to glace at him every so often, he figures that she’s probably nervous. Specifically about him lounging around in a circle full of salt.

“Father Johnathan,” Briar says and bows. In her hands is a glowing, silver orb. It really did look like a generic orb one would find in a Spirit Halloween. “The orb.”

“Your name is Father Johnathan?” Danny asks. He eyes the orb for a second, but doesn’t feel the tingle of ghostly energy from it, so he ignores it. He turns right back to the leader, not able to keep the grin off his face. “Your name is really Father Johnathan?”

Father Johnathan gently takes the orb in his hands as Briar scurries off towards the rest of the followers. Then, he sighs and says, “Yes, creature, my name is Father Johnathan and I shall be your new master.”

“Oh my god,” Danny says, positively gleeful. “I meet real life Papa John and he summons me with salt and threatens me with a Spirit Halloween orb.”

“Laugh all you want,” Papa John says. The nervous air shifts into something a bit more predatory. “You will not be laughing much longer.”

The cultists break into applause and talk amongst themselves loudly. They shift forward, eagerly, as if they want to watch the spectacle up close. They’re only a foot or so away from the platform when Papa John waves at them to halt.

Papa John holds up the orb. It swirls, the silver fog inside consolidating and then dissipating. Something inside it starts to glow the barest amount.

Danny pauses, just for a second, and watches it. There's still no tingle of ghostly energy coming from it. If he hadn’t already thought these guys are a joke, he definitely would’ve been a tad more nervous. As it stands, he thinks nothing of it—no ghostly energy means no control over ghosts.

(Unfortunately, he knows the feeling of ghost-controlling objects quite well. It’s not an experience he’s eager to repeat.)

The orb glows brighter, and brighter, swirling more furiously. The chatter of the cultists picks up to the point where they’re almost shouting, jeering at him. Papa John draws closer and closer, orb outstretched. He holds it through the salt line and touches it to Danny’s chest. The shouting from his followers almost becomes unbearable.

And then….nothing. The orb stops glowing. The fog inside stops swirling. It simply dies in Papa John’s hand.

“Was that supposed to do something?” Danny asks.

Papa John touches him with the orb again, a tad more forceful, so Danny assumes it was supposed to do something. From the panicked whispers around him, it definitely was supposed to do something to him. Danny’s honestly not sure if the outcome is due to him being a halfa or these guys being a joke.

(He’s willing to bet it’s the latter.)

“I think your LED batteries died,” Danny tells him. “Or maybe you mixed up your Spirit Halloween orbs. Better luck next time.”

Papa John stops furiously pressing the orb to his chest and if Danny could see his face, he has no doubts that Papa John’s expression would be livid.

“You will obey us,” Papa John says.

“No,” Danny says. “I won’t.”

“You will—”

Danny swings his feet down so hard that he cracks the very ground he now stands on. Dust kicks up around him as he stands tall, even though Danny’s at least two feet shorter than the leader in front of him. His eyes burn a brilliant green and he crosses his hands over his chest in an effort to look intimidating. The cult thing is interesting and all, but it's late, he still has homework to do, and Jazz has definitely noticed him missing by now so it's probably better to end this before they can get another object from a Spirit Halloween and try that instead.

It works, if the half-step back from Papa John is anything to go by.

“Listen,” Danny says, flatly. “Get a hobby and leave me alone or else you won’t like what I’m going to do.”

He makes his form flicker and the temperature drop in the room, just for dramatic effect.

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. A couple take panicked steps back. More than a few look ready to bolt for the door and leave this cult business behind forever.

Danny takes notice and stares at them, smiling wide enough that they could see his slightly-toothy grin. He makes sure his eyes flare, just a touch, and says loudly, “Boo.”

To say the cultists are startled would be an understatement. More than a few stumble back, a couple falling onto their asses. One trips on their robe and is sent tumbling. Another one yells and cowers. Papa John has no time to reign in the situation before two scatter completely.

“Peace!” Papa John shouts over the chaos of a dozen panicking followers. Those that remain do settle down enough to hear his words. “Stand down, there is nothing to fear. It is only trying to scare you into letting it free. It is trapped whilst it remains in the circle.”

Danny snorts. “I can leave any time I want.”

“You cannot leave here, demon—”

Danny raises one single eyebrow and dutifully steps out of the summoning circle.

The warehouse erupts into chaos.

The cultists are yelling now, but this time there’s only because of fear. They scatter over each other, running and tripping over their obnoxiously long cloaks. A couple trample the goat bones to the point where several loud snaps are heard over the pandemonium. It only adds more fuel to the fire as less than a dozen people scramble to get as far away from the platform—and subsequently the ghost-kid—as possible.

“Do better than a paperclip, next time!” Danny calls out to them. They only seem to run faster at the sound of his voice.

Papa John is the only one who doesn’t run. He had stumbled off the platform and away from Danny the second that Danny made it over the salt line. However, in the disarray, he had been knocked to the ground, his orb lay broken at his feet, and his robe’s hood had been yanked off and left on the ground beside him. He sits, frozen, but Danny doesn’t know if it’s from shock or from fear.

Danny takes a step closer to him.

“How…?” Papa John whispers. He’s not looking at Danny—only his old, wrinkled hands. He’s bald, with brown eyes. He looks like nothing more than any generic old man that Danny would see at a grocery store on Sunday afternoon. “We followed the book. We…we took every precaution the book said. We were supposed to have the perfect slave, bound to our every word. We…”

“That didn’t work out too well for you, huh?” Danny says and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s ‘cause you forgot the dunce cap when you decided to be the class clown.”

“Please,” Papa John says. “Spare me.”

There’s something wrong about this—seeing a human beg for his life at Danny’s feet. Danny doesn’t want to be feared. He never has wanted to be feared.

He presses his lips together and takes a single step back. Some part of him, though, knows that he desperately needs to make his point clear to avoid another situation like this (likely with more weapons, next time).

“I warned you,” Danny says softly. His voice echoes around the warehouse. The man below him shivers in terror. “Do not summon me again, or I won’t be so nice next time.” He pauses, just for a second and can't help but tag on, "Papa John."

He lets his threat linger and hopes the man takes it seriously enough that he won’t get summoned again. Then, the cool strings of invisibility wrap around his body and he disappears from sight. Danny takes one look at the man left on the floor before he shakes his head and shoots up into the Wisconsin night sky. He doesn't hear the shouted response of it's Father Johnathan from several hundred feet below him on the warehouse floor.

Danny waits about all of thirty seconds before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

"Jazz? Hey, yeah, I'm fine. Yes, seriously, I'm fine but you are not going to believe what I just went through—"

[stardancerluv]

Stormy Weather

Part 3

Summary: Roman takes care of business while reader is just her sweet self….remembering other times with Roman.

Notes: It’s a long chapter…decided to not split it up. This is very early in their relationship. Possibly the first year.

Warning: Torture, implied torture, Roman being Roman! Also…mentions of something that could be blood…being sadistic, daddy!kink, small bit of disrobing but no nudity.

It had been a long three weeks, but Roman finally found out who had poisoned you. He pulled his gloves on nice and tight.

Brushing his sleeve aside a moment, he glanced at the time. An idea came to him. Reaching to his phone he decided to call your number.

“Roman?”

He smiled, he loved your voice in his ear. “Baby,” He purred. “Tell me. Can you be in the penthouse in say an hour?”

He could hear you inhale, it made him smile even broader. “Is everything ok?”

He chuckled. “Yes, things have been falling into place for me today.”

“Oh good.”

“So answer me, is an hour good?”

“Well, I was working on that one project.” He could practically see you chew your bottom lip. “But yes, yes…” He could also see the smile. “I can be over.”

“Wear something pretty for me?”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” He smirked. “I want my baby to look good.”

A soft giggle came from you. “I can do that.”

“Good. See you soon.”

*****

You were left fluttery. You had been terribly bored working on this new project. You had created something similar for Gordon’s office before. You adored the man, but his taste was horrifically boring. Stretching, you sighed. An hour. You didn’t have much time but you could certainly pull a look together.

*****

Reaching into his pocket he took out his small bag of knives. Usually he loved to delegate. Why dirty his hands. Zsasz could and always worked wonders. But today he would land the first cuts.

Poisoning his girl. Seriously, in what world did they think they would get away with this. He took out two of his favorites and tucked them away.

****

Roman had taken you to one of his favorite boutiques. There he had pampered you with a slew of perfumes and lotions. He wanted only the best going on your body.

Janus Inc. was decent you remembered him saying, but he didn’t care to support his father. So instead he took you to a place where he bought his own aftershave and skin care items. They had a lovely line for women as well.

Stripping out of your clothes and after freshening up a little, you smoothed on some cream and layered with some delicate perfume. You eyed your hair. He loved it down, so you took the pins holding it in a soft messy bun.

*****

When his rolls stopped just outside his niche at the docks, Roman stepped out and tucked away his sunglasses. The acrid smell of the docks assaulted his nose once his driver opened the door.

The gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked over. He idly wondered how you chose to get ready.

For a passing thought, he’d love to have you here. He wanted you to see what he’d do for you. Have you curled up to his side, his arm tightly around that waist of yours while he considered what to do to these assholes.

The three in question, who plotted and then carried out the poisoning were waiting for him. Zsasz told him they were hanging and wriggling from the rafters. He smirked.

******

Feeling sentimental you decided you would wear a wrap dress. Though which one was really the tough choice to make.

You had some really lovely ones. You considered the blue one, then there was the pink one. However right now the sleeves were a bit much. Smiling, you pulled out the black one with the flowers. You had found it while in Paris. You had yet to wear it for Roman, he was going to love it.

*****

The docks were silent. Before entering the crumbling structure, a loud caw came from a seagull. Looking up he watched as it glided past in the clear blue sky. His imagination of having you by his side flew away with the seagull.

Focusing, he could hear muffled sounds that were held in place by a well placed piece of duct tape. Sure enough the sight was before him, it made a smirk curl his lips.

The muffled sounds grew as their movements made the metal hooks clank. He rose his eyebrows.

“Hello.” His smile widened. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

******

You twirled in front of the mirror loving how the dress laid on your body. After fluffing your hair a final time, grabbing your overnight bag you headed out

******

Walking over to the one who’s eyes burned when they met his, he grabbed them by their hair. He could feel as they winced. “Hate me all you want, but why go after my girl?” He looked past the man.

“Zsasz, hold him a moment will you?”

“Certainly boss.” Zsasz came up behind him, stilling him when he attempted to struggle.

He bent forward. “Struggle but you’re not going anywhere.”

He reached into his pocket and took knife number one out.

“Oh you’re starting with that one?”

Roman nodded. “I am.”

******

The elevator dinged and your heels clicked as you walked into the penthouse.

“Romy, Roman?” You called out. “I’m here.”

When silence was the only reply, you brought your overnight bag to where you usually kept it.

Not really sure what to do, you went to his office, the scent of his cologne made sure to tickle your nose. It caused a few little knots to form in your stomach. He always smelled so good. It made you smile. Eyeing the sofa and his desk, you chose his desk.

You hopped onto it.

“I’m on your desk, Roman!” You giggled. His office was usually off limits. It was his space. So you felt delightfully naughty.

******

Warmth splattered his face as the scream that followed was muffled by the tape. He tilted his head. “I want to hear this.” He was feeling exceptionally dark for what they did you.

“Take the fucking tape off.”

He met the fear filled eyes now. They were no longer defiant.

They barely made a noise.

He pressed his lips together and rose an eyebrow. “Didn’t that hurt?”

The person only whimpered and whispered a plea.

You managed to come to rest on your stomach on his desk. The cool wood felt good. Resting a hand on your palm, you looked around. So this was where he ruled his portion of Gotham. It made you giggle.

*****

Roman tucked the one knife away.

He gestured to the air with flair. “Your turn to have some fun, Zsasz.”

He pulled his gloves off and toss them over his shoulder as be began to walk away. Sharper sounds of fear and pain bounced off the concrete as he made his way back to the rolls. They had paid for what they did to you.

You had better been a good girl for him and was either on your way or already there. He was feeling good.

*****

You picked up the frame on his desk. You knew he had the picture from Halloween framed of the two of you, but that little Polaroid shot. You never knew he could be so sentimental. You were ruffled, he was ruffled and suddenly he had decided to take out the camera.

Of what the two of you really looked like he had said. You did notice a glow and flush. At least he had let you keep the sheet around you.

*****

He could have sworn he smelled a hint of your perfume but he couldn’t be sure. He stopped just short of entering his office when he saw you on his desk. He walked a few steps back.

*****

You could have sworn you saw something from the corner of your eye. You looked around, must have been your imagination. Putting the frame back, you grabbed a fountain pen. A smile spread across your face seeing he had his initials on that as well.

Grabbing a piece of scrap paper you scrawled a heart and in a nice script you placed your own initials. You put it down and rolled onto your back and stretched. You hoped Roman would get there.

*****

Straightening his cuffs, he then silently walked into his office. He watched as you rolled over onto your back and stretched. Seeing you there on his desk did something to him. It had been a while.

Grateful you didn’t hear him as he came in, he wrapped his fingers around your ankles and he pulled you close. Some part of him enjoyed seeing how he had managed to startle you. Once your legs were over the edge of his desk, he stopped. Your heels fell to the floor beside him. He licked his bottom lip, watching as you regained yourself from the fright.

“Baby, don’t you look the sight.” You had not even struggled. He placed a hand on either side of your thighs. “I didn’t scare you too badly, did I?” He rose his eyebrows.

“Maybe a little bit.” You managed, still breathless. You rose yourself onto your elbows.

He smiled even wider. “Good. You are in my office after all.”

A shadow fell over your eyes.

He pressed his lips together. “Damn. I knew I should have cleaned up.” He went to pull his hands away but yours were over his before he could move. Normally that would have made him feel caged in, but it was different with you.

“It’s all right.” You swallowed, your eyes hesitantly met his eyes. “If you grab the Seltzer from the bar, I can take care of it.”

He shrugged. “All right.” Rolling his wrists he grabbed yours. “But what drew you to my office.” He drew close, he could feel as you breathed but what he liked was that you didn’t flinch despite what his face must look like.

“Missing you.”

“Oh, my sweet girl.” A part of him wanted to tell you to not go in here without him. But seeing you on his desk like he had, well that had been too enjoyable to behold.

******

You knew you just wandered into it without him around. You hoped he wasn’t mad. It wasn’t as if you went snooping.

You don’t know what it was exactly. But the goatee that he had been keeping well trimmed, the splatter of scarlet and how he pulled you down the length of his desk made your heart pick up speed in ways that only he had ever managed to do.

You moved to sit a little more demurely as he retrieved the Seltzer. “Do you like my dress?”

He glanced over from the bar. “You know how much I love you in those kinds of dresses.” He remarked before you watched him kneel down to get the Seltzer.

“That’s why when I saw it when I was in Europe, I had to get it and wear it especially for you.”

“Good girl.” But his voice dropped as his eyes fell on how you had moved your legs.

“Sorry, daddy.” You said looking down without thinking, happily you opened your legs so once again he could stand between them.

He brought your chin up. “You are always quite the lady. It’s all right,” A smile spread across his face. “But right now this is where I belong.”

You nodded, and took from him the cloth and the bottle. “You didn’t get any in your goatee.” You told him as you wet the cloth.

“Good.” His face grew still.

There wasn’t much and it came off easily. Moments later, you smiled proud of yourself. He was handsome and clean faced once again.

“All clean, daddy.”

He moved his face from side to side. “Really?”

You nodded.

Taking the cloth from you, he tossed it in the bin. He leaned in close. “Daddy kept his baby safe today.”

“Did he?” You happily drew close to him.

“The information was on point. And they have since regretted their actions.”

“Daddy!” You practically launched yourself at him. He stood back and took all of you. A deep chuckle came from him. You pulled back smiling and hugged him again.

“I couldn't very well let them get away with what they did to you.” You felt him sigh as he nestled close, his goatee tickled your throat. “You smell so good.” He whispered close.

“Thank you, daddy.” You giggled as you felt a tug on where you tied your dress. You gasped as it came undone. Bringing up a hand, you tried to hold it in place.

“Daddy wants to see you.”

You let him take your hand away. The fabric of the dress parted, as you shifted and soon it opened more, delicately revealing the bra and panties underneath. One of his hands moved up your side.

“Just like the first time.” He whispered.

@spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @blackmasque @mrskenobi19 @bdffkierenwalker

[zoryany]

(Of Loyalty and Royalty) "You know, Captain Solo," the Empress said, delicately putting her wineglass down. Han tried not to stare at the motion, or at her, or anywhere. Things were always awkward around her. "I had my doubts, but I am beginning to see what Luke sees in you. I am glad he has you." Han breathed a sigh of relief. Then the Empress *had* to add, "Of course, my husband does not share this response."

Royal Imperial Skywalker AU (parts 1-6)

Send me things!!(always accepting, for this or any other verse, just… slow)

It had taken several minutes of insisting, and some creative thinking on his part, but Han had finally gotten Goldenrod out of his and Chewie’s collective hairs, having sent him off on some convoluted mission to find a very vital component for modifying the Falcon. It was weird enough being in the Palace, even with Luke, so being here without him was absolutely surreal. The night before had not been a restful one, that’s for sure.

At least now he had Chewie with him. Something about that big, walking fuzzball made everyone feel more at ease, it seemed – aside from the moments it was clear he was about to lose his temper. Then? It was best to steer clear, unless you wanted to lose an arm. But… even in the early days, Luke seemed to be comforted by his presence.

Han would argue until the day he died that he was not out of his mind for missing the fact that Luke was, indeed, the Imperial Prince, given just how fumbling the kid was right off the bat. Too earnest for his own good and stumbling over his words, you’d think he’d never spoken to another human being before. Which… well, clearly wasn’t the case, but perhaps he just didn’t have as much experience with the sorts of conversations regular folk might have. And for that, he always seemed so nervous when he tried to talk to Han. It was endearing, of course, and played a large part in winning the scoundrel over, but it absolutely screamed “Outer Rim Crop-Duster” without giving a hint at any form of nobility. And yet, when he was around Chewie, he seemed to just… relax. Words flowed much more naturally, whether he addressed the Wookiee or the captain, and a good portion of the tension he carried in his shoulders would just evaporate.

The ease of interaction between him and Luke had grown over the weeks, of course, but Chewie had always been an effective buffer in any situation. He was also effective when it came to negotiations for that very reason, and it was why Han almost wished his first mate had been around for the previous night’s dinner. True, all parties agreed it was for the best that he’d stayed behind, but still; it would have saved Han a lot of discomfort.

“Well, pal,” Han sighed, flopping down on his overly luxurious bed and sprawling out, “how’s it feel, living the high life?”

Perched awkwardly on the foot of the bed, Chewie gave Han a look absolutely brimming with irony. Given his history, as well as that of his people, Chewbacca had never really been in favour of an Imperial Regime in and of itself, but there was a certain level of respect he’d always held for the newfound freedom the Wookiees experienced under the current system. He would speak ill of the life of his people under the Republic, and the galaxy headed under Palpatine, but he carefully maintained an air of neutrality towards the current Royal Family. Through it all, though, Chewie had never sought a life of luxury. He’d always been content to live day to day, repaying the life-debt he was convinced he still owed Han and doing whatever he could to find his place in the galaxy.

Han supposed that over two centuries was plenty of life lived, and sometimes you just had to find your thrills no matter their source.

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha,” Han conceded, sitting back up and running a hand through his hair. “Can’t say I’m feeling all that at home here, either.”

Chewie took a few moments to glance around the room, taking in the décor and the pure extravagance everything seemed to exude, before he finally rumbled out his opinion on the matter.

As he pushed himself off the bed and wandered over to the balcony door, Han shook his head and sighed again. “Yeah, I agree, buddy. It really is… A lot, isn’t it? No wonder the kid felt restless here. I never woulda pinned him to live in a place like this, either.” He spent a brief moment looking out at the sprawling city below him, wondering just how Luke felt every time he took in the same view, before a wry grin spread across his face. “Wanna see a little more of where your new favourite cub grew up?”

Chewie rolled his eyes. On occasion, Han would complain about how much more Chewie liked Luke than him, a joke which seemed to have worn a little thin, but the fuzzball ultimately nodded, and the two breezed out of the room to get a closer look at the wing in which they were to reside for the foreseeable future.

***

“I know, pal.”

It turned out the Imperial Palace – or, at least the sections of it they had proper access to – was not as interesting as they would have liked it to be. They were in the guest wing, of course, and had encountered far too many droids restricting access to other, more interesting sections of the building. The two could make it past if they so chose, but decidedly chose not to, if only to avoid landing on the Empress and her husband’s bad side, and to not to piss off Luke or land him in any more hot water than he might already be in. So instead, they’d settled onto an elevated veranda, sprawling and luxurious and attended by a number of other droids who sought to meet their every need, feeling every bit as though they had landed themselves in a gilded cage of their own.

“I’m not sure what the next move is either.” Chewie draped a warm, hairy arm around his shoulders, and Han was grateful for it. “I can’t live here any more than you can. It just ain’t gonna happen. Luke knows that too.”

He left the next bit unsaid, and as Chewie finished his thought for him, Han found himself wishing he didn’t understand Shyriiwook nearly as well as he did.

For a moment, he tried ignoring his first mate, but another, more insistent rumble, accompanied by a not-quite-painful squeeze to his shoulder had him groaning. “You’re right, of course. As usual. I can’t stay here, and I can’t just drag Luke away from this place. I’m not sure we get to be happy, yanno? In a perfect world, I’d just take the kid with us, travelling the galaxy, adventurin’ from place to place, non-stop.” He paused and allowed the wry smile to twist at his lips. “Pretty sure Luke wouldn’t be strictly opposed to that, either. But…”

Silence rang heavy between them, even with the bustle of the city-planet below them. On another occasion, Chewie might have chimed in with the missing thought, again, but right now, it was clear there was no need. Han wasn’t avoiding it because he didn’t want to acknowledge it; he was avoiding it because it brought a level of pain he never wanted to confront when he was only just getting closer to Luke.

At the end of the day, it was duty that came into play, before anything else.

“Ah! Captain Solo!” Han nearly jumped out of his skin at the crisp tone of the droid as it interrupted his thoughts. “Here you are. And Chewbacca! I nearly thought I had lost you.”

He had to suppress a groan as he forced a grin and faced the gleaming golden droid. “Nope. Still here. Can’t get rid of us that easily.”

“Well, that is indeed excellent,” Threepio continued, completely missing the irony. “I do believe I have found the component you were looking for. I have placed it with your ship until such a time that you may require it.”

“Well,” Han drawled, genuinely surprised the droid had found anything, given his description, “I guess I’ll just have to take a look at it next time I’m fixin’ up the Falcon, and I’ll let ya know how you did, yeah?”

Chewie chuckled softly from behind him, but the droid carried on. “Her Majesty has requested your presence, Captain Solo. I must request that you follow me.” Request was more than likely putting it mildly.

Chewie raised a brow at the droid, rumbling a soft inquiry in Shyriiwook, but Goldenrod seemed unfazed. “I apologize, Mr. Chewbacca. While I recognize your desire to accompany the Captain, the Empress has asked to speak with him alone. However, if you so choose, I may wait with you outside her chamber while they carry out their business.”

The Wookiee was losing patience with the droid almost as quickly as Han was, but Chewie had always been better at maintaining his composure. Despite his own frustrations, he growled an agreement. Both Han and Chewie followed the protocol droid to the hallway leading to the Empress’ chambers, Han being ushered in while Chewie was pointed to a position just to the side of the doorway.

“Mistress Padmé awaits you inside, Captain Solo. I advise you do not keep her waiting.”

“Yeah?” Han felt his lips contort into a wry, contrary sort of smirk. “Well, I’ll make sure I don’t. I know better than to keep a woman like that waiting.”

“Indeed, you do have some wisdom in you after all, Captain Solo.” Threepio’s voice was chipper and polite as ever, but if he didn’t know better, Han would almost think the droid was mocking him.

“Right,” he replied, face darkening slightly, before turning to his friend. “See ya later, Chewie,” he said with a nod. “Try not to tear off Goldenrod’s arms while I’m in there.” He’d lowered his voice, but not enough to go undetected by a droid’s auditory sensors, and Han took more pleasure than he probably should have in the way Threepio seemed to jump at the comment.

Striding forward, the assured steps he took into the chamber worked to conceal the anxiety that truly roiled beneath Han’s composed exterior. Something about the Empress caused his legs to turn liquid and his wits to escape him. Luke was able to disarm him with his charm and catch him off guard enough to force him into idealism; the Empress disarmed him completely with her ability to read right into the core of his being.

Actually, every member of the family seemed to share that ability. His thoughts hadn’t felt private since he’d landed on Coruscant. The Empress could see right through him, the Princess shared her mother’s eerie personal precision, the father had his own brand of intimidation, and Luke…

Luke had always been able to sense Han’s vulnerabilities. Even when it wasn’t obvious that was what he was doing, it was present enough that the kid seemingly maintained a solid connection with him no matter what. Now that Han knew just what Luke’s connections and abilities were, he couldn’t help but feel just a touch more wary of him. He’d never much believed in the Force, nor did he really know what it did, and he didn’t quite trust it.

But… he did trust Luke.

He knew just how gentle the kid could be. Despite the insecurities they both felt, despite knowing what seemed to eat at him the most… Han held faith in Luke. It made him uncertain. Han was unaccustomed to uncertainty like this. But even though he was entirely unsure what the future held, he knew he had faith. A faith he hadn’t come close to holding for years before this, but faith nonetheless. He was not about to abandon that just because he was about to face the Empress, the most powerful woman in the galaxy, and someone who could very well dismiss his existence on a whim.

“Captain.”

The door closed behind him, and Han found himself in another room that seemed overly lavish and luxurious compared to what any being actually needed. He hadn’t really noticed, but they’d moved beyond the guest wing of the Palace. The droid’s escort had been so seamless that he didn’t even realize the route they were taking was unfamiliar and led past paths that had previously been obstructed. He’d been purposely misled to this chamber, and would be escorted back to his own private room so he could not find this one again, he was sure. It instilled a growing sense of unease within him, but Han would not back down. Holding his own against the Empress was all he could do. It even seemed liable to become his greatest achievement ever.

Han was not an Imperial Loyalist. He never had been. He wasn’t a rebel, by any means, just went where the credits were, but most Imperials were fairly stingy with their credits. It was the outlaws who paid the best, and for so long, he’d pledged himself where the fortune laid. But now… well. Was it fortune that drew him to Luke? Or something else? So many could look at his history, look at Luke’s identity, and draw their own conclusions. Han Solo, smuggler, scoundrel, and Imperial Leech.

Luke had never seen that in him, though. And, well, if Luke believed in him…

“I can sense your discomfort.” The Empress’ voice was somehow both cool and warm. She had an inviting air about her, something that begged you to share your every last secret, but she never shed her nobility. Calm, collected, and in control… that was the Empress, and Han wasn’t sure he would ever stand a chance against her in any sort of battle, of the wits or otherwise. And yet, he wasn’t sure that mattered. He would hold his own against her for Luke’s sake. That much felt so certain, no matter what.

“Discomfort, Your Majesty?” Yeah, playing it off seemed like his best bet. What else was he supposed to do? Just admit to the fact that he felt uncomfortable around her? No, that was a weakness he wasn’t about to show off just yet.

It seemed, though, he couldn’t fool her. The Empress wore an expression that seemed far too similar to a predator capturing its prey, though it did not contain the same level of cruelty as one who was about to devour. No, she seemed ready to play with her food before deciding if it should be consumed immediately, or if it was worthy of keeping around for a bit longer.

“You have not shown any signs of comfort since arriving at the Palace, Captain.” Her smile grew, but as it spread, it only became more inscrutable. Han really had no idea whether it carried more welcome or intimidation with it, but he could certainly tell that it carried more. “It is my sincerest hope that you may find some level of ease within our walls. I do not wish you to be on edge for the entire duration of your stay. After all, what kind of hosts would we be if you could find no trust in us whatsoever?”

Han quirked a brow. “I really gotta say, Majesty, it ain’t nothin’ personal. Promise. Your family’s done nothing wrong to me. Got no reason to stand against ya. Plus with Luke around, I’m really not about to do anything stupid like that. But you can’t blame me for being a bit nervous. I ain’t used to dealing with big shots like your family. And I’ve got no interest in kriffin’ things up. Especially not for Luke. Kid’s been through enough. He don’t need me comin’ in to make things even worse. It was his choice to have me here, and if I didn’t think he actually wanted me anywhere near the rest of your family, you better believe I wouldn’t have agreed. Sorry to say it, but my interest in politics is almost negative, so it would take either a huge stack of credits or the word of someone I trust to get me at the Palace at all.”

Did he actually just say all that? In his head it hadn’t sounded that bad. It just sounded like his usual ramblings. But actually saying it out loud…

The Empress clutched a delicate goblet in her gloved hand. It was filled with wine, and she took a long drink out of it before setting it down and smiling at Han. “You know, Captain Solo,” she said as the glass delicately took its place atop a coaster on the end table. Han tried not to stare at the motion, or at her, or anywhere. Things were always awkward around her. "I had my doubts, but I am beginning to see what Luke sees in you. I am glad he has you." Han breathed a sigh of relief. Then the Empress had to add, "Of course, my husband does not share this response."

“Well, Majesty, can’t say I expected him to.” Han hadn’t noticed, but a droid had placed a full tumbler of Correllian Whisky next to him, and he was quick to take a swig of it before he continued. “Can’t say I expected any of you to like me at all, to be honest. Still not sure if that daughter of yours is all that sold on me, either.”

Bright peals of laughter echoed through the chamber. There was genuine joy and amusement in the Empress’ expression, and it was enough to make her seem purely human. It was likely a side of her that only the closest and most intimate of associates would see from someone so regal. He’d seen the holos. The whole galaxy had. She was gentle yet stoic, kind yet solemn, genuine yet guarded… She was what you would expect a beloved Empress to be. But this – this seemed to be who she really was, and an unexpected warmth bloomed in Han’s chest at experiencing it. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t so doomed here, after all, if he’d won over the most powerful woman in the galaxy.

Maybe he’d have a chance at winning over the old man…

“My dear captain, you do understand my children well, I must say.” The light remained in her eyes, and Han could practically feel the tension in his shoulders unwind – though, that could very well be the whisky’s work. “Winning over Leia is no easy feat, but I think you have a better chance than most. She worries for her brother. And I assure you, it isn’t personal.” Clever woman, using his own defense against him. “You took her brother’s attention and caused him to be away from her. She was worried sick and missed her twin. It is not your fault – my son has always been reckless and acts of his own accord – but she resented you before she even knew who you were. Please be patient. Luke adores you. She will come to accept you no matter what. Even if she does not choose to show it.”

Han finished the last of his whisky, grimacing a bit at the thought of the princess. She resembled her mother a fair bit and had been seen in public with the Empress more often than Luke ever had been. The twins didn’t look all that much alike, really, especially when seen separately. While together, though, the similarities shone through. Similar mannerisms, expressions, body language… and they definitely interacted like siblings. Seeing them in this capacity left no doubt in his mind that the twins were, well, twins. But the princess always seemed far more like The Princess than Luke ever did The Prince.

The Empress took another sip from her goblet and her eyes settled on the dark liquid within. “My son has always been more trusting than his sister. He has a gentle heart. I know the dangers he faces because of it. That gentle heart is far too fragile for his own good, and while I know that Luke is strong… well. We all know that Luke is strong. He is not some delicate, withering flower that will crumble to pieces with a strong gust of wind. He is trusting, though, and will offer up that most vulnerable and breakable part of himself far more readily than any of us would prefer.” She paused, emptying the contents of her glass before setting it down and meeting Han’s eyes with a piercing, imperious gaze.

“The unease my family feels around you isn’t personal, Captain Solo. Neither we nor you have any reason for it to be, correct? But our concern stems largely from Luke himself. We know his nature, and when he left Coruscant for such a prolonged period of time, we all worked ourselves into a frenzy of worry about just what harm he might bring upon himself. Physical danger concerns us, of course, our family has guards for a reason, even given our own martial prowess. But Luke’s emotional state, especially when he’d fled searching for freedom… you understand why we would be concerned, yes?”

Han just nodded, wishing he had another glass of whisky.

“My husband may not be swayed just yet. Your status as a smuggler certainly does not help, either.” She really knew how to reassure him when it came to tall, dark and terrifying… “The best way to win him over, however, is to continue as you are. Make Luke happy. That is all we desire for him, first and foremost, and the finer points of status can be discussed at a later date.”

Han met her gaze with gritted determination and nodded sharply. “I will, Your Majesty. Swear on the Falcon. I will not let the kid down.”

“Good,” she replied, humour in her voice while intensity remained in her gaze. “See that you don’t. Farewell, Captain Solo. Until next time.”

[therappundit]

Top 10 Rappers of 2020

The finish line of this long, surreal year is finally upon us...which means that it’s time for me to throw down the gauntlet in the ‘Best of 2020’ frivolous list race!  🙌

*Just to be clear*: this is a list of MCs who I believe turned in the best overall performances in 2020. ***This is NOT a list of the my top 10 favorite MCs***, or even who I believe to be the best MCs in the world at the moment...these are simply dope artists that put forth the strongest, most consistently interesting and important (to the genre) high-quality work in the perilous year that was 2020. 

If you think your favorite MC was slighted....well, Michael Jordan is the greatest to ever play the game of basketball but even he didn’t win MVP every year, right? I encourage you to write your own list - it’s a cool way to dap artists that are too often overlooked by industry websites, and share the music you enjoy with others that may not have given the record a spin otherwise.

Even if 2020 didn’t bring you the “instant classic” you had been hoping for, I think it’s hard to deny that this year really had impressive depth when it came to showcasing some of the most diverse music that the genre has to offer.  I can’t speak for music in general - sadly I’m just The Rap Pundit, not The Music Pundit - but I can say that it has been an impossible task to keep a playlist less than 500 songs deep at a time, because for every truly great release in 2020 there seemed to be 30 very good releases. 👌

So how did I come about these 10 MCs (and Honorable Mentions)? Before you get huffy about who I snubbed (and that is pointed directly at my jury of older head peers that consider themselves tastemakers, but also haven’t opened their minds up to any new takes on rap styles since the year 2000)...here are the five chief pieces of criteria that I put into finalizing my list:

- quality (whatever lane you’re in, how often did you ‘own it’?)

- quantity (at least 10 very good-to-great songs released, and 3-4 verses that stand out as a ‘must-hear’ for any rap music fan)

- consistency (not just 4-5 great features and a few forgettable solo tracks, will I want to keep at least 7 or 8 of your own new songs released in 2020 in my rotation for 2021?)

- impact (are you so vital to the type of rap music you make that if you stopped rapping tomorrow, there’s no one else in the game that could fill that void?)

- “it” factor (are you carried by a co-sign or an elite production team, or did you bring a style/talent to the table that could carry a record in and of itself?)

Got it? Then here we go...

1. Conway the Machine

I hope 2020 was the type of year that Conway the Machine had been hoping for since he first began his journey with rap music. After years of scraping and hustling towards music industry recognition (and not just cult figure status), at year’s end we see Griselda’s top Lieutenant holding down a rare balancing act: champion of underground hip-hop, and most requested feature by any mainstream rap star looking to add some tough-talking muscle to their album.

While much of Conway’s content has always been driven by surviving an attempt on his life in 2012, much like 50 Cent, Conway’s way with words and perspective manage to elevate the quality of his material to a higher tier than most. And where - at least in his heyday - 50 Cent benefited from an indestructible super-villain persona, Conway’s success can be greatly attributed to a larger-than-life heart.  With every braggadocious act of gunplay, there are moments of gratefulness to still being alive to share success with his brethren, as well as a painful longing to be with close allies that are no longer with him (at least not in the physical form).

Above all else, in 2020 Conway the Machine did what he has always done throughout his career: delivered well written, passionate bars about coming up in an impossibly challenging environment and coping with loss...only now his craftsmanship and understanding of how to channel all of those feelings into a more polished final product have yielded the most well-rounded solo project of his career in From King to a God. Progress is a slow process, but the long and winding road has finally taken Conway a step closer to that G.O.A.T. status he will hopefully continue to reach for...

Best Evidence: FKTG, and a countless number of scene-stealing verses alongside rap acts ranging from deep underground to household names

2. Freddie Gibbs

I don't use the word "sauce" all too often (this may actually be the first time), but if there was any MC guaranteed to bring sauce to any rap record right now, it's Freddie Gibbs. 

Forever existing somewhere between gritty gangsta and syrupy old soul, the flavor that Freddie brings to every verse is malleable enough to work on virtually any type of record, which was certainly proven in 2020. Anyone foresee a Gibbs & Alchemist Grammy nomination heading into 2020? It’s a testament to how high quality work, through consistent reliability and dues paid, can elevate a project from underground niche following to critical acclaim. While his work with Alchemist may not reach the lofty levels of his heralded collaborations with Madlib, Alfredo represents the best that “quarantine music” can offer...two talented friends saying one day, “hey we should finally drop a full tape together, why not?” - and then BOOM, it happens.

Too many fail to remember that Gibbs already has a long accomplished body of work behind him...so the fact that he may just be entering his prime now, is scary.

Best Evidence: Alfredo, Machinedrum’s “Kane Train”

3. Boldy James

Comeback MC of the year, and no it is not close (but big shout-out to Grafh, another dope MC who had an amazing year).

I'm old enough to remember when folks like Roc Marciano and Ka were seen as sleepy, monotone rappers with little hope of reaching permanent rap icon status (flash-forward to today, and they are widely consider geniuses). For some, the quieter, less hook-dependent approach to making rap songs, was....well, not great rap music. They were wrong then and they’re wrong now, but similar to how the coolest, smartest cat in the room is rarely the loudest, it can take some time and patience before everyone learns what’s what. Time is what is required to appreciate Detroit’s Boldy James, a veteran that has been through it - both in terms of the ups and downs of the music business, as well as the streets through which he draws his stories and inspiration.

Boldy makes it seem all too easy, rapping his verses with the cool, casual tone of telling old stories to a close friend over drinks. Dropping multiple projects (with one still to come) in one year can often lead to over-saturation. Even the most dedicated fans/stans can begin to feel less enthusiastic about new releases when they have already received a healthy portion of more of the same...but most rap fans are not necessarily Boldy James fans. Boldy fans (much like Roc Marciano and Ka fans) are already aware that knowing what type of material to expect from your favorite MC can be a blessing if that MC takes pride in the execution of the final product, rather than the noise leading up to it. 

The beauty of his collaboration with The Alchemist (big year for that guy, huh?), The Price of Tea in China, is that it celebrates the more subtle nuances of boom-bap, proving that great MC and producer chemistry can trump the “shock & awe” of more uptempo rap music. The shock in Boldy James’ lyrics sits within the detailed descriptions of the cold world he grew up in...so monotone or not, how can any music could be more gripping than that?

Best Evidence: TPOTIC, Manger On McNichols, a long list of consistently perfect feature verses

4. 42 Dugg

I would say this is more of a longterm investment rather than the celebration of a rapper already within rap’s inner circle, but 42 Dugg didn’t just steal the show on every feature this year, he also displayed maturity in his ability to craft well-rounded, high quality rap singles. I’m talking joints that work just as well on the street tape level as they would at the radio level. That is especially rare to see from a rapper that is still relatively new to national conversations. 

So much more than just a co-sign of Lil Baby and Yo Gotti, the Detroit eastsider has already proven that he can craft a full solo album with the swagger of a far more seasoned MC. 42 Dugg combines a Boosie-esque, "oh you think you’re better than me??” chip on his shoulder with the unpredictable bombast of Lil Wayne. What he may lack in punchlines he makes up for in musicianship, his voice bringing one of the most nimble touches to trap music that I have heard in a long time. 42 Dugg music is hard and soulful, with the natural hunger of a rapper that knows me might be one smash away from superstardom. By this time next year, I’m betting he will be. 

Best Evidence: Young & Turnt 2 (Deluxe), features on high profile records like Lil Baby’s “Grace” and “We Paid”, and a growing stream of attention grabbing solo loosies

5. Rome Streetz

In 2020 it was almost impossible to be an underground MC with a great project unless you landed a Rome Streetz verse. 

Rome has been bubbling for a while now, but in 2020 he unleashed an onslaught on the game. At times he seemed like the hardest working MC in underground circles, busting his ass to not only make as many appearances as possible, but also to own any song he guested on. He raps like every verse might be “the one” that gets him a huge contract, and that’s a level of hunger and consistency that will likely land him more than one huge contract someday. In spite of that laundry list of strong features, the young Brooklyn MC still managed to release multiple dope solo projects, all flashing a rap style that feels at once a throwback and the fresh voice NYC rap needs. 

Rome is clearly from the same school as many of the New York City greats, because he has the capacity to deliver dark, potent bars with the sharp intellect of a Harvard lecture (think AZ before “Sugar Hill”). While he sounds most at home when he’s rhyming over instrumentals that run more coldblooded than a horror flick, it’s easy to picture him popping up in more places in 2021...if that’s even possible.

Best Evidence: Noise Kandy 4, Kontraband, The Residue, and at least 50 incredible features with a who’s-who of the underground’s finest

6. Stove God Cook$

No one saw this coming....well, maybe Roc Marciano, Lord Jamar, Busta Rhymes and a few more NYC heads in the know - but I guarantee you, no one else saw the Stove God coming!

Bar for bar, no MC owned more rewind-worthy rap quotables in 2020 than Stove God Cook$. Dropping a solo debut with VERY little fanfare and zero features (apart from the steady, reliable guidance of Roc Marciano - low key one of hip-hop’s most reliable producers), a slow bubbling word of mouth campaign on social media eventually got Stove God verses exposed to more and more high profile ears. Such a grass roots campaign is rarely seen...I mean, a rap album slowly becoming a critical darling simply off the strength of more and more random folks discovering the music and Tweeting about it, as opposed to the buzz being calculated before the product??? It feels almost too good to be true these days, as early reviews of Reasonable Drought typically lead with something along the lines of, “hey, have you heard of this album? I have no idea who this is, but it is 🔥🔥🔥”

It has often been said that Roc Marciano has a lot of “sons” in the game, implying that Roc Marci gave birth to a style that a whole generation of underground MCs run with today. So it’s ironic (or perhaps highly appropriate?) that the next level of progression for Roc might be to have a protege, a young Jedi to carry on the tradition on Roc’s own terms, and become the next new star to be embraced by the old heads. But Stove God isn’t a clone of Roc, or anyone else, he’s simply one of the most exciting artists to hit the NYC underground in a generation. Everything from his word choice, to his fresh references and sense of humor, to his delivery and the way he structures his verses, feels like a collection of “firsts”, there’s simply no one sounding like him. And if his work in 2020 is any indication, he will continue to be in a league of his own for years to come.

Best Evidence: Reasonable Drought, spotlight snatching features alongside Roc Marciano and Griselda’s finest

7. Lil Baby

Once viewed by some as just another “Lil”, Lil Baby had been rollin’ coming into 2020, but by the end of 2020 it’s clear that he has arrived at the forefront of rap music’s most reliable hitmakers right now. 

A must-have feature on any rap album reaching for max exposure, Lil Baby’s dexterous flow, charisma, and pen that is significantly sharper than early reports indicated, made him one of the few shining stars in 2020 to consistently deliver good rap music to what in any other year would have been considered smash hits in any club.

What makes Lil Baby’s music standout is that he could easily be a “cookie cutter” MC, phoning in verse after verse just to get another check, but instead he continues to bring it - trying to squeeze in an extra catchy lyric, maybe flow in a way that breaks up a verse to make it stand out from the pack a little more - and even when he is featured over cookie cutter beats that sound like every other trap inspired beats that came before it, Baby seems eager to prove something. I think that’s what I like about him - he’s on a short list of mainstream-bred Young Thug disciples that seem to really want to put the work in to becoming one of the greats. 

Best Evidence: I mean...did any rap star have more songs in circulation this year? Dude was everywhere, but “The Bigger Picture” got his name officially into the lyricist conversation (even though personally I don’t even think it’s one of his more impressive records - at least not stylistically)

8. Westside Gunn

No one denies that the Griselda Records team had a banner year, yet somehow the vocal leader of the group managed to drop a handful of dope projects without receiving credit for being a great MC in his own right. Great artist, great album curator, great business man - sure, but great MC?? That credit is rarely given to the FLYGOD. He might not even understand how natural he is as a solo MC, waxing unpredictable flows and half-bars that stick in your mind in place of catchy hooks or predictable song structure. He might call himself an artist first, but I still call him one of the most prolific rappers today (regardless of whether he retires after the ball drops).

I can’t believe I have to tell rap fans this in the year 2020...but......you all know that message and punchlines are just part of the art of rapping, right...and not the only thing that defines who is a dope MC and who isn’t?? Play any solo cut from Westside Gunn and filter out the “doot-doot-doots” and stream of conscious hooks and what you are left with is one of the most distinctive voices in rap music, attempting off-kilter flows and phrases over some of the most impressive production in rap music today, and to me that sounds like my kind of rap music. What the Buffalo floor general lacks in diversity of subject matter he makes up for with a relentless imagination.

That’s why it’s not all that surprising to me that Westside Gunn enjoyed more mainstream attention in 2020 than he ever has before. All he needed was a window of exposure and he certainly capitalized on it, pitching his sound and his vision in all the right places, without compromising his style or vacating his lane. So strictly as a MC, I would consider him the Young Thug of the east coast underground scene, and if 2020 does turn out to be his final year of recording solo projects, I am thankful that he already has a long list of quality projects with high replay value to revisit again and again. But don’t wait - give this man his flowers now.

Best Evidence: “Euro Step”, “Rebirth”, “327″, “Shawn vs. Flair”, “Michael Irvin”, and YES he even had a more than worthy verse on “$500 Ounces” alongside Freddie Gibbs and Roc Marciano

9. Benny the Butcher

Who else is more reliable to deliver a dope feature verse than Benny?

By now you must be muttering at least a few things about me, so let me just make two points: YES, I am a big fan of Griselda records, but NO I do not consider that an unreasonable bias because even on paper according to a large variety of sources, it’s clear that Conway, Boldy James, Westside Gunn and Benny are true specialists when it comes to the quality of the work they distribute. Its not a fluke or a trend, they’re just that good at what they do...I have been saying this for almost 5 years now, but in 2020 the rest of you sleepy heads finally just stopped hitting snooze.

Benny the Butcher already possesses the writing capacity, attention to detail, and skills of observation/personal reflection to put himself within special company as one of the nicest pens in the business today. But in 2020, he dialed things up even higher...or perhaps word of mouth just finally caught up with the rest of his peers? The tribute to the classic Roc-A-Fella era that was his Burden of Proof project with Hit-Boy helped expose Benny to a much larger audience, and it has been beautiful to see so many more folks quoting and sharing his lyrics on Twitter, because I recall when he had about the same amount of Followers that I do, because it wasn’t all that long ago (I just hope they go back to experience all of his prior work - I’m still partial to his incredible verses on “Shower Shoe Lords” and “Pissy Work”)! 

In my not so humble opinion, I do think some of the more dramatic pomp and circumstance on the BOP album was more suited to a Rick Ross or Meek Mill than Benny, so I’m actually more excited to hear what Benny has in store for 2021. He truly sounds at his best over more minimalistic production that lets his lyrics fill the spotlight...but still, tracks like “Timeless” and “Legend” do remind me of some of my favorite moments from old JAY-Z albums...blasphemous, maybe, but true.

A shot to the leg last month seems to have done nothing to slow his momentum, so if you didn’t board the bandwagon by now, you are inexcusably late.

Best Evidence: Burden of Proof, mercilessly slaughtering every verse on every Griselda projects, and a ton of show-stealing features

10. Drakeo the Ruler

What a journey it's been for the L.A. rising star. 

Flexing a penchant for placing local slang into his music and delivering dark verses with a clear sense of humor, it's easy to see the appeal of Drakeo's style. If Thank You For Using GTL was an inspiring attempt to do anything possible to keep his buzz going (in that case, recording his verses over a prison phone), the quick release of We Know The Truth shortly after he regained his freedom seems to have given him a 50 Cent-esque teflon aura at the moment. 

But this is about more than just Drakeo himself, it’s about what he represented before incarceration, and what he represents now. As one of the more visible forces in a new generation of west coast hip-hop, Drakeo was a few key features away from exploding onto the national scene. Now after surviving his ordeal, likely with a great deal more to write about, his ceiling has only been raised - and along with his growth potential, so rises the potential for the current rap scene out in L.A. right now. Mark my words: by this time next year Drakeo’s flow will be one of the most flagrantly jacked flows in rap music coast to coast.

A sincere welcome home from the rap world, Drakeo the Ruler. Hopefully the worst is now behind you. 🙏

Best Evidence: We Know The Truth, Free Drakeo, Thank You For Using GTL

*Honorable Mentions*:

Che Noir, Ka, Ransom, Billy Woods, Royce Da 5′9″, Jay Electronica, Fly Anakin, Curren$y, Lil Uzi Vert, Roc Marciano, Skyzoo, Black Thought, Tee Grizzley, Your Old Droog, Flee Lord, Lil Wayne

[jaskiersvalley]

Body or Mind

While Geralt didn’t know what he had done to piss Stregobor off this time (hint: he didn’t do anything, but Jaskier did), he was still very unimpressed with the cloud of green magic that billowed his way. Resigned to his fate, Geralt closed his eyes and let the magic swallow him up.

Opening his eyes, things looked rather different. A little more muted, everything was softer. And he was not in the stable with Roach. How off putting and annoying. Geralt looked around. He was in the room at the inn they were staying at. And Jaskier’s lute was in his hands. A closer look and Geralt frowned. Those were not his hands. Fuck.

Meanwhile, in the stables, Roach was watching passively as Geralt blinked his eyes open and promptly flipped out. It involved a lot of hopping about, staring at hands and legs, feeling his own face while cursing loudly and colourfully. Never before had a witcher been so animated.

They met in the street outside of the tavern, Geralt stomping to fetch Jaskier while Jaskier was running to get Geralt. People stared when a terribly grumpy looking bard dragged a whining witcher back into the inn.

What followed was something that an outsider would have found quite hilarious. An argument between a verbose witcher and a broodingly humming bard. The conclusion was that there was nothing they could do for now. There was still a contract that they needed to fulfil.

Hunting the creature is an exercise in frustration. Geralt, in Jaskier’s body, struggled to keep up and keep track. He was so used to seeing the taint that monsters left behind but human eyes couldn’t detect that. And no matter how much he tried to explain it to Jaskier, it took years of training to spot them. Frankly, Jaskier was a hopeless witcher. Which was a testament to how much of the training at Kaer Morhen was not just of the body but also the mind. One without the other did not make for a witcher.

Of course, it was just Jaskier’s luck that they find some drowners. While Geralt tried to grab a sword and charge into the fray, Jaskier was busy running and screaming for Geralt at the top of his lungs. It really was just as well they didn’t have an audience because they would have seen the witcher running in a wild panic while the bard rushed in.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a simple matter of comedic appearances. While the drowners were eventually dealt with, Geralt could barely walk afterwards, he was so tired. His muscles hurt, the sword in his hands was heavy and all he wanted was to sit and meditate for a bit. By contrast, Jaskier was trying to hum as they made their way back to the tavern.

“Shut up,” Geralt growled and Jaskier gave him a hurt look. Which was all manner of disconcerting, seeing the bard’s expression on his own face. “If we’re to pull this job off, you need to at least act like me.”

Unfortunately, Jaskier was hungry and he whined and pestered until Geralt gave in. They sat in the tavern, trying to hide in a corner but the patrons knew they were there. And the requests for Jaskier to entertain and play were coming in thick and fast. The lute felt foreign in Geralt’s hands. He had no idea what he was doing with hit. To him, the only use a lute had was to be smashed over someone’s head in a fight.

“I’m sick,” he said in the end. And tried to give a cough to sell his story. It wasn’t far from the truth, Geralt could barely stay awake long enough to eat dinner. All he wanted was the comfort of a bed.

“What the magnificent bard means,” Jaskier said next to him, gesturing grandly at Geralt, “is that he is tired. If you push him too hard, you will lose out on his voice not just for a night but rather for his entire stay. Give him a break he so deserves.”

A few people grumbled but nobody argued with a witcher. Even if he seemed to be in a frighteningly good mood.

Going upstairs, Geralt stripped and fussed at how the clothes were fancy but deeply impractical. It seemed that Jaskier was having similar issues, not enjoying the battle against the buckles and straps of Geralt’s outfit. Undressing really was much easier when the unfamiliar straps were on someone else.

They still had a kikimora to hunt for the contract. Geralt woke up tired. He wondered why that could be, he had one of the most restful nights in a long time. There were no sounds waking him, no dreams, nothing. And yet he still felt exhausted enough that he went to put on his regular clothes before seeing himself in the bed. The public could never see Jaskier in witcher armour while Geralt was dressed like some extravagant bard.

Picking out the most drab outfit (as if Jaskier had drab clothes), Geralt went down to get some breakfast. He was surprised that he entered the room and the chatter continued. Usually, his presence was enough to bring any room or gathering to a nervous stillness. Even more strangely, the barkeep’s wife smiled at him with a wink and even piled his plates a little higher than a regular portion.

“Running around with that witcher, you need to keep your energy up, duck,” she whispered with a giggle.

Returning to the room, he nudged Jaskier awake who gave him his usual glare. And okay, maybe people were right to get scared when he glared or stared at someone too hard.

They managed to obtain more information on the kikimora. It was a matter of finding it and killing it now and there was no way to delay it. Geralt followed Jaskier out of the village, they made a passable attempt at acting like each other.

As soon as they were out of the village’s view, their demeanour changed. Jaskier perked up while Geralt fell silent. Forcing a cheer and a bounce to his step was tiring. He had no idea how Jaskier did it all the time.

A kikimora was no easy foe. Usually Geralt downed a potion to help him. Maybe two, depending on how he was feeling.

“I really have no idea how you do this,” Jaskier was prattling away. “There’s just so much going on in the world! So many colours. The smallest movement. It feels like everything is super sharp, vibrant colours, I can almost taste sounds and hear everything within miles. Including your, well, technically my, heartbeat. It’s so distracting and noisy. How do you cope?”

“You learn,” Geralt huffed back. Despite his constant fatigue, he was quite enjoying the muted life. Some things he missed about being in his usual body but some of it was a blessing.

The kikimora got the jump on them. It reared out of a body of water without any warning. Geralt hadn’t sensed it at all and Jaskier probably had no idea how to interpret what was going on around them. It was pure chaos for a few seconds with Geralt pushing screaming muscles and reaching for swords that weren’t there.

“Take some-” he realised that Jaskier won’t have a clue as to what was in each vial. “Blue bottle, purple top! Down it!”

While Jaskier fumbled in the bag, Geralt was trying to keep the kikimora occupied when he heard heaving and gagging. Jaskier was doubled over, potion bottle empty, eyes turning black as his skin paled even further. It seemed that the taste of the potion didn’t agree with him and Geralt couldn’t really blame him.

Once the potion took full effect, Jaskier looked dazed. He staggered a little, blinking as his eyes took in the sight. The problem was, Geralt was tiring very quickly. He couldn’t keep dodging.

“Jaskier. Please!”

He could see the swords being hefted up and Jaskier stumbled towards the kikimora. If there was such a thing as muscle memory, Geralt desperately hoped it kicked in about now or they would both be dead.

Sensing a more dangerous foe, the kikimora turned to Jaskier with a hiss.

“Raise your left sword!” Geralt shouted and watched as Jaskier followed his instructions, just in time to block a strike. “Thrust up with the right, cut a leg off.”

He kept yelling, telling Jaskier what to do, how to fight. It was inefficient and Geralt wished he could just charge into the fray and be done with the matter. But his legs burned, breath came in burning gasps from all the running. At least his voice carried clear and true over the sounds of the battle.

At long last, Jaskier delivered a killing blow. The kikimora screeched and collapsed but Jaskier was on full alert now, spinning to find the next source of danger. It was a feeling Geralt was all too familiar with, the potion still in full force but with nowhere to channel its effects. It was quite hellish.

“Well done,” he said as he approached Jaskier who looked only a little out of breath, covered in kikimora guts.

“Geralt?” All of a sudden, Jaskier dropped the swords and his hands flew to his face as he dropped to his knees. “What’s going on?”

Despite his insistence at not feeling anything, Geralt’s heart broke as Jaskier tried to make sense of what his body was telling him. “It’s just the potions. They’re good for a fight but not so much when there’s nothing left to spend their effects on.”

On the ground, Jaskier was curling up, a ball of misery and pain. It was something Geralt was all too familiar with, the burning through his veins like a thousand fire ants marching in unspent rage. It was coupled with a feeling of need, that something had to be done but the ‘what’ of it was beyond comprehension. On top of it all was the terrible stomach ache as the toxic potion caused cramps and the desire to heave it all up even if there was nothing to throw up. Then there was the pounding headache, in time with the heartbeat which was elevated by the potion and the body trying to fight it off. A thundering pulse that threatened to cleave the head in two from the inside.

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier all but sobbed. Tears were leaking from all black eyes and Geralt was surprised that his body could still cry. He hadn’t done so since he started his training at Kaer Morhen. “Geralt, how do I make it stop? Please make it stop.”

The pleading whispers hurt on a soul deep level. Usually, Geralt would meditate, allow his find a bit of freedom from his body while the potion ravaged it. But it was yet another tool that was training for the mind and not the body. Helpless, Geralt sat down and pulled Jaskier’s head into his lap.

“Meditation helps. Close your eyes.”

He watched as Jaskier trembled, could feel him shaking and breath hitching. Now that he had a taste for what the potion could do, it was impossible to ignore its call to fight. And without there being something to rage against, all that turned inwards, the body fighting and torturing itself.

As much as Geralt tried to help Jaskier meditate, it was hopeless. Meditation took a lot of time and practice. To try it while in pain and in a foreign body, it was never really going to happen. Helpless, Geralt did the only thing he could think of that he would like when feeling like that. Slowly, he pulled a hand through Jaskier’s hair, brushed the guts and gunk out gently as he tried to offer a small measure of comfort. Keeping his strokes soft, Geralt kept a hand on Jaskier’s stomach, hoping the heat of his palm would ease the cramps a little.

Touch, strokes, there was one more thing missing. Quietly, with an uncertain quiver to his voice, Geralt began to sing. Nothing as fancy or fun as what Jaskier normally came out with. Rather, he offered up a lullaby of sorts, gentle and soothing to the best of his abilities.

Gradually, Jaskier’s shivering and sniffles stopped but his eyes remained shut. He wasn’t asleep, Geralt could tell as much but he seemed to be between the world of the waking and the sleeping. It was as good as meditation in a way and Geralt relaxed. His song petered out and his own eyes closed. Painfully tired, Geralt cursed the body he was in, wished he could take Jaskier’s pain away. Those were his last thoughts before he fell asleep.

Waking up, the world was as sharp as before and Geralt groaned, turning to look up. Jaskier was slumped above him, sleeping while sitting up, as Geralt had been who knew how long ago. The body of the kikimora was off to one side. He would deal with it later. For now, he had a bard to look after, to ensure he was well rested and be in full knowledge of how much he was appreciated. Everything else could wait.

Sitting up, Geralt ran a filthy hand over Jaskier’s cheek and smiled when familiar blue eyes blearily opened to look at him.

“You’re you again,” Jaskier mumbled and smiled. “Oh thank fuck. How you feeling?”

The familiar aches and pains were almost welcome. Geralt was so used to them by now, he almost didn’t notice what he had called the potion hangover.

“Much better now that you’re not in pain,” he said. It was all too easy to tug Jaskier in for a soft, grateful kiss. “Thank you.”

[macgyvermedical]

A Nurse Wrote This Movie: A Medical Review of Knives Out

Whoa.

Honestly, all I can say, this movie was amazing.

I don’t think I’ve ever been treated to a movie that was both this complex and still this easy to understand. I wasn’t left wondering at the end, and despite the number of times my understanding of the central crime changed, it didn’t ever feel whiplash-y or like anything was played for shock value. It was a journey through the story and it was consistently enjoyable, all 130 minutes of it.

But please, seriously, go see it for yourself before reading this post, there will absolutely be spoilers and this is a movie you don’t want spoiled.

Before I really get into it, I want to tell you that the medicine (though, I suppose, particularly the nursing) in this movie was good. Really good. Much, much, much better than I expected. What I really, really appreciated was that the resolution of the case came from something that only a nurse would know. If i had to guess, not only was there a nurse consulting, but one was part of the central writing team.

There’s really only one scene to talk about, but it spans parts of the whole movie. Here’s my explanation/review of the evening meds scene and how it relates to real life and the rest of the movie. Apologies for the lack of relevant screenshots, once the movie comes out on streaming or DVD I will have more options. Also apologies in that I have only seen this once in theaters and I am working from memory.

PICCs:

One of the main characters, Marta, is a homecare nurse for the wealthy victim Harlan Thrombey. Early in the movie, we are given a scene where she is giving him two medications for a recent shoulder injury- ketorolac and morphine- before bed.

Harlan Thrombey has a PICC in his left arm that Marta uses to administer the medications. PICCs, or Peripherally Inserted Central Catheters, are medical devices that are designed to allow medical professionals to administer IV medications and draw blood without having to start an IV or stick someone with a needle. Once inserted, they can stay in for 6-12 months, and they’re really helpful for patients who either need IV fluids/medications at home (long-term IV antibiotic therapy, for example), or who require repeated doses of medications that could be damaging to the smaller veins that traditional “peripheral” IV catheters sit in (chemotherapy, total parenteral nutrition).

PICCs consist of one or more “ports” that are accessible from the outside (the blue nubs in the pic below, where the medication goes in), and a long, flexible tube that sits in a large, deep vein that ends near the heart.

We don’t know a lot about Harlan’s medical history in the movie other than the injury to his shoulder that causes him to need the pain medication. A shoulder injury alone would not justify the insertion of a PICC, so we have to assume that either he had an existing serious health condition like cancer, or the shoulder injury was really an infection in one of the bones of his shoulder, which would justify a PICC on the basis of needing IV antibiotics multiple times per day. Since they seem to have thought of everything else, I would choose to go with that.

Medications:

The first medication’s generic name is ketorolac. Ketorolac is an NSAID, similar to ibuprofen, and works by blocking some of the chemicals that cause pain and inflammation in the tissue. It’s usually not given long-term, but for short term things like surgery or an injury it works pretty well and decreases the amount of narcotic pain medication needed. For someone over 65, the normal schedule for ketorolac would be 15mg IV every 6 hours. Marta would probably keep him pretty close to this schedule, because it’s his primary pain control beyond heat, ice, elevation, and possibly some form of physical therapy.

Morphine is an opioid. It works by blocking pain signals in the brain. It’s been around for a while, works pretty well and pretty quickly, but it’s not great for long term use either due to the fact that the body builds up a tolerance to it and it has the potential to be addicting.Since Marta seems to offer it to him instead of stating she’s going to give it to him, it looks like it was prescribed for “breakthrough” or as emergency pain relief if the ketorolac wasn’t doing enough, which is a pretty typical way to prescribe pain medication.

Now, you’ll notice that despite it reading “ketorolac” on the vial, the characters refer to the first medication by it’s brand name “Toradol” throughout the movie. This impressed me because in a medical setting, we colloquially refer to some medications by their generic name, while others we refer to by their brand names. There’s no particular rhyme or reason to the colloquial naming (though age of the drug plays in), and you kind of have to work in medicine to know which is which. We typically refer to Toradol by it’s brand name, while we refer to morphine by it’s generic. If you asked me for ketorolac or Astramorph (a brand name of IV morphine) it would just sound... weird. But its something fiction gets wrong all the time and it’s cool they got this right. For consistancy, I’m going to continue using the generic name for both medications throughout this post.

Medication Administration:

Marta goes about injecting the ketorolac first. This was yet another thing that added a little spark of nursing realism to the movie, because while not everything was shown, what was shown was done accurately. Here’s the steps to administering an IV medication through a PICC:

Open syringe package (draw needle is usually already attached)

Draw up air into syringe equal to the amount of volume of medication you want to draw

Clean top of vial with alcohol swab

Insert draw needle into vial and inject air

Flip vial/needle upside down and draw medication into syringe, recap draw needle (label syringe if giving multiple medications/doses)

Unclamp the PICC port you want to use and clean the port cap with an alcohol swab

Twist a prefilled saline syringe onto PICC port cap, and inject 5ml saline into the port

Twist draw needle off of syringe and discard into sharps container

Twist medication syringe onto PICC port cap

Inject medication

Twist off medication syringe and discard

Twist saline syringe back onto cap, inject the remaining 5ml of saline to flush the entire medication dose into the person’s vein

Untwist the saline syringe and reclamp the port

They reference the dose of ketorolac as being 100mg. As I said above, the normal dose of ketorolac is 15-30mg IV, depending on age. For Harlan, being 85, it’s hard to believe he wouldn’t have gotten 15mg IV every 6 hours max. I think the mix up was intentional, meant to signal to the audience that she was supposed to give the whole vial of ketorolac with each administration, but only a portion of the vial of morphine per administration. Ketorolac does come in single-dose vials, however in this movie all vials were clearly multi-dose vials (which you can tell because the ketorolac vial says “30mg/mL” on the 10mL vial, meaning there’s 300mg of ketorolac in that vial, which would be about 20x the normal dose). 

Medication Errors:

Then she goes back to get the morphine, and realizes that she’s made a mistake. Instead of injecting the vial labelled “ketorolac” she’s administered the entire contents of the vial labelled “morphine”- 100mg, she thinks. That’s a LOT of morphine. Definitely enough for a fatal overdose in someone who’s normal dose is 3mg. 

Now, med errors are HUGE FREAKING DEALS in the medical world, and Marta would have faced substantial civil and possibly criminal charges. Assuming she survived this without jail time, she would face an investigation by her visiting nurse agency (if she worked for one, which they establish she doesn’t) and/or the board of nursing in her state, which would seek to determine whether this was negligence that lead to the med error (in which she would probably be fired/have her license suspended/revoked), or a systemic problem (in which case she would be in the clear).

I think Marta actually has a pretty good case for this being a systemic issue rather than a negligence one. The vials look extremely similar, and even if she had done everything she was supposed to do, its plausible this could have happened despite her reasonable efforts to prevent it (she could have put it down last minute and picked up the other vial by accident, and had the label facing the wrong way as she was drawing up the medication). If nothing else, since the morphine vial was not specially identified as a narcotic, it would at least shift some of the blame to the pharmacy that filled the prescription.

In the moment, though, knowing what we know about her mom’s citizenship status, this would have been a terrifying situation for her.

Plus, there’s the overarching possibility that she just killed this very powerful person who she’s been caring for for a long time.

Opioid Overdose:

Opioids bind to certain receptors in the brain, decreasing pain signals. Unfortunately, they also decrease signals in the part of the brain that controls breathing. At small doses this isn’t generally a problem, but in overdose situations it can cause respiratory depression (the person breathing too slowly to meet their needs) or respiratory arrest (the person stops breathing on their own entirely), which can lead to death.

A drug called naloxone (brand name Narcan) can stop an overdose by sitting on all those same receptors that an opioid would without actually blocking any signals, which stops the respiratory depression from the opioid pretty quickly. As mentioned in the movie, most pharmacies dispense a naloxone kit along with opioid pain medication, and was the “antidote” Marta was searching for.

Now, in opioid overdose all is not lost if you don’t happen to have naloxone available. Since the cause of death from overdose is lack of breathing, Marta could have called 911 and provided rescue breaths until EMS showed up with naloxone. Even if EMS were 10 or 15 minutes out, he could have easily survived this. But that wouldn’t have made for nearly the murder mystery.

Ironically, this is exactly what happens in the laundromat scene, when it is revealed that the housekeeper Fran figured out what was happening and was attacked with the real morphine vial. When Marta finds her, she immediately looks in her eyes (a hallmark of opioid overdose is pinpoint pupils) and begins providing CPR.

In some areas, community-level CPR guidelines have simplified to “if you find someone not breathing, start CPR”. This is due to the realization that most lay rescuers have a hard time finding a pulse quickly enough to use it to determine whether to start CPR, leading to fatally wasted time in an emergency. The thinking is that it’s better to have people do unnecessary chest compressions than not do necessary ones.

But healthcare professionals are obviously still taught to differentiate between patients who need full CPR and patients who only need rescue breaths, so assuming Fran didn’t go from talking to cardiac arrest from an opioid overdose in less than a few seconds, I would have expected Marta to give rescue breaths until the ambulance arrived.

The Resolution:

Towards the end of the movie, we find that the vials were switched already, and in subconsciously recognizing the (real) difference in viscosity between ketorolac and morphine, Marta had actually, tragically, saved his life. This was probably the best use of a nursing concept I’ve ever seen in fiction, the entire central point of the plot hinging on nursing intuition.

Kudos, writers, kudos.

[razorblade180]

So I finished Age of Calamity

[spoilers]

Thanks to the beauty of holiday time off I have logged in 40 plus hours into this game and just beaten it, so naturally I’m gonna talk about it a bit. I’ll save the spoiler stuff for a little later though.

The game

This game might be my favorite game of 2020, or at least top three. Not just because of the world, but because everything is over the top! So far I’ve done 131 missions and 90% has the consistent energy of “we are fucking under attack” and it’s almost overwhelming in the best way possible. It really felt like you were on a battlefield field. Your map is just a sea of red and it’s your job to clean it up. What kept me engaged in the fights was all of the character’s different uses runes. I found myself constantly ordering my teammates to face certain enemy types that match best with how they fight.

Originally, I really wanted to be fair and rotate between characters. That didn’t last long. Mipha and Link in my opinion don’t have a single bad move. The bias only got worse whenever the master sword is obtained. Before that, my Link had a spear most of the time but that sword is just handy. Especially with item drop rate and attack range on it. In the end, my strongest characters were Link 74, Mipha 70, Impa 60, and Zelda 60. It’s been awhile since I played the first hyrule warriors so I can’t remember if they had the level up system were you can pay for experience but or definitely came in handy. Combine that with how many guardians were in this game and I quickly found out I needed Link with a shield on a regular bases. I also learned I didn’t forget how to time a vase amount of blocks and dodges.

The amount of characters you get to play quickly became too massive for me to juggle, but they all had their own merits for the most part, though I did find a few of the gimmick characters a bit of a hassle. My opinion on who was viable was constantly changing as I unlocked more combos. Originally, wasn’t the biggest fan of Urbosa. That second and fifth combo modifier changed everything.

The real portion of the game that really kept me wanting to play more was not only the ability to order other people, but seeing them fight along side you. I’m a softie for things like this, but genuinely felt relieved or hyped whenever I was fighting something crazy and I can see Impa rushing over towards me while text from soldiers scream “Just keep pushing!!!!” The AI wasn’t dumb either! There’s plenty of moments that controllable and NPC characters will just go where they’re supposed to, or kill targeted enemies. I remember not wanting to switch over to Link because he had low health, so as I’m running over to him as Mipha to heal him, the madman kills the Lynel. Ran all the way over there to watch him flex. That combined with elemental reactions you can cause in a fight, and the entire spectacle just felt elevated. The feeling of fighting three Lynel’s at once becomes a little less scary when you have a lightning rod and puddles everywhere.

The only negative I found in a gameplay perspective is some of the resource gathering. Gaining the trophy notes for killing a type of enemy isn’t too much of a hassle, but I found getting the materials they drop to be a bit harder, even with increased drop rate statuses. Most of this I find irritating for two reasons. One, specialized enemies show up in relatively small groups in a majority of missions, so getting things from them could be a flop altogether. Number two, a fair amount of these missions take a decent chunk of time if you’re being thorough and killing as much as possible. So grinding is a pain. Fortunately most missions a majority of what you need . If the game wanted chu chu jelly, I knew one of the missions coming up had chu chu as an enemy. You could also keep track of what you needed with material sensor that told you when you had enough.

The story

I’ll be honest, I was upset with this game for a hot second. It was advertised as a prequel to BoTW and while sad, I was truly invested to playing the events that lead to the fall of the champions. What this game didn’t tell you is it’s like most LoZ games, on its own separate part of the timeline. This isn’t the story of they lost. It’s the story of how they win, thanks to the little adorable robot mascot that has the ability to not only show the future, but bring people from the future; the champion’s descendants. At first I was upset with this. Mainly because I’m a little tired of time travel plots and it felt really out of place here. However, time travel gave way more to this game than what I expected this game to have in the first place. It allowed at least six more playable characters that wouldn’t have been possible in the other timeline, and a wellspring of interactions through missions. Every time Mipha was with Sidon, I smiled. Having Urbosa being this super encouraging role model to Riju was so nice since BoTW had expressed just how much those two admired and missed those people. Revali was nice to Teba! They were vibing. Even the soldier commentary on the new champions were a treat. So I got over the time travel issue pretty quick. It made things sad as well when the new generation leaves because they’re going back to a time where they lost it all. There was no great union that took place across hyrule to fight Ganon and their beloved champions failed. I do appreciate that the diverge in the timeline really takes place on the day they’re supposed to die, moments before the final blow. It still lets the player see the definitive moment where good was supposed to lose.

The “new” villain is meh. I wouldn’t really say he stands out. His entire thing is thinking he’s gonna win because he doesn’t realize that he isn’t seeing hyrule’s future. He’s seeing another hyrule’s future. What comes out of his character is cool though because it gives a different, yet same finale boss. I wasn’t expecting to basically fight a giant Ganondorf. Honestly, you can kinda say you fought Demise. At least aesthetically speaking. Or Yuga. This game has also made me care about robot. Something I haven’t done in awhile. A few scenes near the end felt hammy, but also amazingly realistic to how a lot of people would feel when someone breaks your favorite thing. The war was already personal, but now it’s really personal. Quests open up after the game that plays on those emotions too. It’s very clever.

Overall, Age of Calamities story felt like a love letter to everyone who loves this rendition of hyrule and the characters in it. They even another one named Sooga, who just might be my favorite. That man has no choice but to be the brain and muscle of the Yiga. It kinda makes me sad he’s introduced here because you can assume he didn’t make it in the other timeline, so he has no descendents. The amount of serotonin I felt just seeing all of these characters fighting together as the absolutely conquer the battlefield was more than satisfying. Definitely worth the money. I don’t know if they can, but Nintendo might wanna consider some sort of audio patch. The mixing is bad in certain parts. Voice lines get really quiet. Other than that, this game is real solid. I’d give it an 8.5/10

Side note

The music is really good. Especially the Zoe’s demain track. Also, I never noticed frame rate dropping or lag, except on two occasions. Both of these happened to be me pushing the game to its limits. The first is being surrounded by enemies in a small space as Mipha. Creating the water vortex and raining down bombs makes the game wanna cry a little. The second one is a similar case. Sidon’s fifth or sixth combo made the made the game drop frames because it’s incredibly fast, involves timing, makes a vortex, and i was in a small space with tons of enemies. Other than that, not even Urbosa’s or Riju’s lightning made the game freak out from what I noticed. That may have something to do with me never using them in a place where there’s constant rain. That might actually be the cause of the drop in combination of everything else.

[wthelvetica21]

🔗💀Linked Souls

in the Digital Cabaret’s lobby

All four of the Mystery Skulls investigators found themselves in a calmly lit room with skull decor. It was quaint to say the least. There were also musical instruments like guitars and old fashion keyboards on the walls as well like it was a recording studio. All of them were laying on the same large circular sofa with two tables.

Lewis: What… The hell… just happened…? Guys?

Vivi: Just a few more minutes okay Lew. I swear… mar 

Vivi rolled back sleeping with her plush turtle that she kept in her backpack before they headed out.

Arthur: (yawn) Can you keep it down… Whoa OH HOLY SHIT! Where are we guys? This can’t get any weirder man.

Mystery: *soft barking* (I must keep a low profile for now. I have a feeling that we’re not… in our world anymore. I sense four none hostile souls and least one that’s harbors some justifiable apprehension towards us.)

Lewis is the only one who could hear Mystery via supernatural telepathy.

Lewis: Huh? I hear voices from outside… 

Lewis along with Mystery and Arthur put their heads on the double doors to listen in.

Teenage Male Voice: I don’t know if this is a good Idea Doc. They seem sketchy as hell if you ask me. Especially the ghost rider reject in particular.

Calm Female Voice: I’m sure hun, my tombsona can since people’s intentions right away. They seem to be looking for someone or something whom was involved with the murder of the young man in the suit who has become a ghost. It’s all I could glean however. But the dog though.. is odd… He’s not a threat to us but that might not be his true form.

Suave German Voice: He could be a lycan… What? It’s possible since that ghost is particularly one that still has his body. 

 Mystery: *tilts his head* (A lycan? As in a werewolf? He also knows that Lewis is a special case as well.)

Softer Male Voice: … 

Strangely Familiar Voice: What’s that Armstrong? You think that we should meet them one by one? Maybe 2 by 2 would work better. I would rather meet them later… I’m still having a hard time processing this whole situation. I just woke up after all.

Lewis: Wait?… Is that the? (Is that the guy singing in that weird dream from earlier? Could it be that comatose guy who was begging for help? It’s modulated a bit but it’s that voice I heard. I just know it.)

Mystery: whimper (Lewis? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You know that voice?)

Lewis: Uhh… I could’ve sworn I heard his voice before. (he said softly)

Calm Female Voice: Don’t worry cher. We’ll go first. Come on Rust since you’ve been itching to meet them.

All three backed up from the door so they wouldn’t get hit.

Teenage Male Voice: WHAT!? Why the hell me? Why not Tesla, Armstrong, or even your… Hey don’t give me that look. Dammit okay fine… let’s meet them already. (mumbles in Spanish)

Lewis: Tch… (Yeah you’re already gonna be a pain in the ass from the get go. Must be a high schooler or somethin’.)

Strangely Familiar Voice: Wait! I changed my mind. I’m very curious about these people from another universe.

The double doors open and two individuals come out. One was a woman who had discolored blue skin with glowing neon blue paint. And she had flowing hair that acted like willow wisps. She also had the attire of a stage magician with some witch doctor elements. The most noteworthy thing about her was the navy blue mask with glowing cyan eyes and outlines that took up most of the top portion of her face. She could even be mistaken for a ghost like Lewis. 

Vivi: OMG, she’s… so… cool! Oh man I wish I had that classy outfit she’s wearing. I could match with Lewis for once.

Mystery: *tilting his head groaning* (She’s certainly someone Vivi and Lewis could get along with very well. Maybe she patched us up from that elevator.)

Doc: My name is Doc or you could call me Ms. Doc for convenience. I’m the drummer for The Living Tombstone. Next to me is zero_one. He’s our keyboardist and composer. He also does the vocals as well.

The other individual was a tall svelte man who was shorter than Lewis but slightly taller than Arthur.  He looked like he was wearing a skin tight jump suit with yellow circuit lines with an orange fade to them. In the center of his torso is a rectangle that looks like a microchip with a heart beat indicator. He also was wearing a helmet that had a plume of golden orange hair made out of plasma and a pair of headphones. But what really caught Lewis’s attention was the LED skull with a bolt shaped crack on the right. He recognizes him as that guy from that dream he while he was passed out on that mining elevator. Almost immediately both of them blurted out…

Lewis & zero_one in unison : Do I know you from somewhere? But how?

Lewis : Hold up… Um Hey… (Aw man this shit just got weird already.)

zero_one : Uh… Hi there… (Oh… awkward.)

Arthur: Welp… This just got awkward and weird fast. What is going on here man? You recognize the dude with the mohawk?

Lewis : It’s a… 

Rust: Oh that does it… I’m going in. What flying fu…. oh… This is already got a weird vibe. Who the hell are you people anyway? AND You… yes you the ghost rider reject how do you recognize our front man hah?

Lewis : growls (Great another asshole with a green motif. But he’s some kind of punk who’s just got outta high school). 

sigh (trying to contain his anger) I’m not sure, I just seen someone like him that’s all…

Stoping the young man in biker attire with the green skull mask from lunging at Lewis was a slightly older gentleman who’s color scheme was similar to Lewis’s. He had the attire of a mad scientist with a winter hat.

Tesla: Can you not be hasty Rust for just a moment. They are not a threat to us remember. Herr Geist (german : Mr. Ghost) I still have so many questions. How did you find the elevator to this universe?

Lewis : Umm… (Who the hell is this guy? He looks like he just stepped out of an anime or a game or something.)

Long story short but it may sound batshit crazy ; we were chasin’ a dismembered gang green arm with a single black eye. Did ya’ll see him.

Rust: uhh… what? What kinda story is that? You must be tripping on something really strong to come up with that.

Behind the slightly befuddled young man in the green was a larger skull faced man with a burnt space suit who’s glowing red. He looks like he’s trying to calm things down before a fight breaks out between Lewis and Rust. 

Armstrong : … signing (I believe we all need to calm down first before we get our stories out there. I’m Armstrong gentlemen, lady, and… dog. You hail from another universe?)

Lewis : Huh… good point sir. (Why do I know what he’s saying even though I don’t know sign language. This shit really couldn’t get any weirder.)

Lewis then gives a paraphrased version of what Armstrong was saying to rest of the Mystery Skulls gang. Doc explained that Armstrong has tinnitus but can still play the guitar very well despite that. His tomesona can also give some form of synesthesia to compensate for his hearing loss.

Rust: (shakes his head in disbelief) Fine whatever. Names Rust, don’t ya’ll forget it. I do the vocals and rap.

Tesla: Guten Tag, my name is Tesla Herr Geist, Chicken with Mechanical Arm, Mysterious Dog, and Liebshen.

Lewis : *groan of frustration* (Oh that’s effing lovely. He better be usin’ that word as a term of endearment and not trying to flirt with her. But at least he isn’t an annoying little punk like the green one.)

Vivi: Oh how rude of us not to introduce ourselves. We are the Mystery Skulls ; we’re paranormal investigators. I’m Vivi Yukino, I’m the researcher of the group. But my day job is at a used comic book shop called TomeTomb. Oh I also know how to play electric guitar.

Tesla: Oh is that right Liebshen? Very nice indeed.

Armstrong : … (puts both of his thumbs up for approval and nodding)

Doc: Huh, TomeTomb(soft chuckle) what an interesting name. And you are young man?

Arthur: I’m Arthur Kingsmen, I’m just the mechanic of the group and I’m not as interested with this paranormal crap as much as Lewis and Vivi. And I work with my uncle Lance at his auto repair shop called Kingsmen repair. Also I play keyboard and actually own three keytars as well (he said proudly). Ha they almost costed me an arm… and a… (nervous chuckle). Yeah, the arm is a different story though. (he said sheepishly scratching his head.)

Rust: Well it must have… literately. Holy shit man, three of them? Talk about overkill.

Lewis could see zero_one light up like a kid in a candy store as soon as Arthur mentioned his keytars. He could feel this feeling radiating in the core of his locket ; its joy. He then sees zero_one approach Arthur like someone who was reunited with a long lost sibling.

zero_one : Three keytars? (in rapid secession) What brand are they? How did you get them? What year were they made? Do you have any pictures of them? 

Arthur: (he had a smile that the rest of the Mystery Skulls gang haven’t seen in months) Really? I have a 1980s Casio, a late 90s Korg, and an early 2000s Yamaha. I had some connections back then and I usually find them used online even though they were still…kinda expensive. And yeah I have pictures of them on my phone, you can come and look if you want.

The Orange-Yellow color coded duo sat next to each other like they just got a new hand held game and rambled on and on about mods and midi plug ins for keytars for a good 20 minutes. Lewis wished that he didn’t go into that cave in the first place. The relationship between Arthur and zero_one was not just like two long lost brothers but it was like his friendship with Arthur before this whole third wheel and ghost thing ever came about. Lewis felt a small pang of guilt before getting interrupted with a question.

Lewis : sigh… (At least Arthur is feelin’ better already after all the shit I put him through. Maybe comin’ here isn’t going to be that bad after all. Just Maybe…)

Rust: Who’s the dog though? Gotta say though he kinda looks badass with the red and black.

Mystery: *shrugs in embarrassment* (Yabai. (Japanese: Oh Crap.) Maybe I shouldn’t show my true form now, maybe wait til they are ready or Vivi or Lewis mention it.)

Vivi: Oh his name is Mystery. He’s our mascot, sorta. I know he isn’t a ghost like my boyfriend over here.

Tesla: Boyfriend ha… Oh well, but you could do so much better then…

Doc: Tesla stop. Lewis is Vivi’s beau, just leave it be. There are other women you know…

Tesla: Uhh. Gut, I’m a man of honor.

Lewis : (Oh sure you are hat guy.) 

Okay then, I’m Lewis Pepper and I’m more the guy who handles the heavy equipment in our paranormal investigations. My day job is waiter and chef at my adopted family’s restaurant “Pepper Paradiso”. I also play violin and I am a train vocalist.

Rust: Oh… really? Come on zero_one, me and you, let’s nock this amateur down a peg or two.

zero_one : You’re kind of putting me on the spot here Rust. Lewis did say he was trained, maybe you should’ve not called him that.

Lewis : (narrows his eyes) (Oh, I’ll knock this Rust punk down a peg or two.)

 Oh really Rust. Alright I’m game but just you and me. Mono a mono. Let the best vocalist wi…. huh?

Then a feeling comes over both Lewis and zero_one that made both of them and harmonize a beautiful arpeggio that brings all the room in awe. Rust was drowned out by both of them because he was just as shocked as everyone else in the lobby.

Doc: Oh honey, both of ya’ll voices are like two angels. And you thought he was an amateur Rust?

Rust: Well, damn I’ll admit it, you and zero_one won on this one. For now.

Armstrong : … signing 

zero_one : interpreting for Armstrong : Well since the introductions are out of the way, I believe you said something about a dismembered arm earlier. Is that the reason why you stumbled into our universe?

Lewis : Well yeah, it said it lead us into a trap or some shit like that. It was also working with someone or something else that wanted to do all of us in. 

* Loud Alarm *

A I Voice: Warning security breach detected. / Subject identified as a green dismembered arm that has already made entry into timeline v. / prerecorded transmission from the multi-universal edge by Helvetica. 

Helvetica: Something has just breached the reality layline. Sending distress signal to prime universe about Null’s escape. Butterfly effect radiating towards other divergent TLT timelines. Three inter-universal ones from the prime timeline. At least three no… it’s five from the universe MSA (Mystery Skulls universe). I’m making my way to timeline v as soon as possible. End of Transmission.

Lewis : Welp… I can see things have gone to shit already. At least we know where it is now. Might as well go looking for it but we’re do we even freakin’ start huh?

Tesla: I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you. My prime self told me about this Null character but… what is it doing at this time period I wonder? Poor fraulein Helvetica sounds like she can’t handle this on her own. She might be proto_type’s student but even a student needs some extra help. We should worry about the four ones from our universe first before the one’s from our visitor’s universe.

zero_one : Wait? There are people from Lewis’s universe that crossed over to this universe too? What’s going on here?

Tesla: It’s most likely a butterfly effect like the distress called mentioned. Oh I believe we already have a lead or two, that’s gut. Really gut.

A I Voice: First sightings found downtown at High May’s Junior, Le Macabre Dance club, and Toriyama’s School for the Arts.

They decide to split up into teams to not only look for the possessed arm but for at least three people from the prime timeline in TLT’s universe.

 Mystery, Tesla, and Vivi are going to that Toriyama Art school in Japan since Vivi is fluent in Japanese. Lewis is thankful that Mystery is with her if Tesla tries anything.

Arthur, Rust, and Doc decide head to that Le Macabre Dance club which is in Puerto Rico. Rust apparently knows his way around there.

While Armstrong, Lewis and zero_one head towards a popular hot spot on San Francisco’s Yvette district; more specifically a hole in the wall bar known as High May’s Jr. Lewis decides to go there alone since he can change his form at will unlike Armstrong or zero_one but has agreed to meet up with them later once they found whom ever they are looking for. Armstrong thinks he’s way too conspicuous to be seen in public and decides to rendezvous with this Helvetica woman who made that distress call earlier along with zero_one.

End of Transmission

Lewis :  Well. I still have my ID and all. But I don’t think it’ll matter all that much. I swear this whole thing with timelines , butterfly effect and shit makes me feel like I’m in a very anime video game. Was something like Blaze blue or whatever? Or someone’s fanfic… Umm… Nah, that’s fu_king bonkers.

[stachmousworld]

Avenge me tomorrow (Ch.3)

The model on the collage is Philomena Kwao. She is so gorgeous and graceful!

Pairing: polyavengers x Black!reader

Previously: Bruce took care of Thea. Mjöllnir reached for her and deemed her worthy. She is transcended by all the knowledge from Mjöllnir.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -  Part 7 - Part 8  - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

Thea woke up alone. Not that she was surprised. After last night, she would have probably had another breakdown if someone had gone in bed with her. She was sore and dirty as mentally than physically.

She braced herself, stood up, wobbling on her feet and worked her way to the bathroom. She stood in the shower naked and turned the water on. The cold water hit her back but instead of shrieking as she usually does, she stood still. The low temperature brought back some images from the Mjolnir true power: Ultimate strength.

 She squatted down and washed her private parts thoroughly. Now she was thinking about it, it wasn't the first time Mjöllnir had reached her. There was some times when she’d thought her tinnitus worsened. She was so used to abnormal background noises that she hadn't really paid any attention to the source of the buzzing. Only when she had been in dire need of help, the Hammer had been louder and had came straight to her.

After going through the motion of the memories, she could now understand what Thor meant about fellowship. It’s true that companions were like an only body, fighting, loving and grieving together. It wasn’t like a wife and her husband.

No.

It was a stronger feeling, a link that couldn't be broken, even by death.

It didn’t lessen Thea’s pain and anger. This boiling sensation rising in the pit of her stomach didn't come from her. She barely had enough strength to do her daily ablutions. She surely couldn't muster an ounce of pure anger.

Thea dried herself with her mom’s favorite fuzzy towel. She pressed her nose in it and sniffed the scent of her mom’s washing liquid. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Mom, where are you? I need you, she thought, sadly. Tears pooled in her closed eyes, but she kept them trapped. You are strong, you are strong, she repeated as mantra.

She took a last deep breath, straightened her back and went into her closet. She didn’t want to be her habitual flamboyant self today. She felt so much sorrow an emptiness that she couldn’t bear seeing them looking at her, ogling her like an object. Even though it was her fault in the first place.

As she entered the occupied kitchen, all their conversations came to a halt. Mjöllnir was at Thor’s feet and Thea…God, she had to calm down.

Don't look at the Hammer, don't look at the damn Hammer, she repeated firmly in her head.

“Hey,” she waved her hand and sat on the only empty chair, between Bucky and Steve. Mjöllnir was buzzing, raging in her heart. And just like that, she could hear each sound, each breath, see each molecule, feel the earth under the building. The oppressing feeling stopped as quick as it started. She took a shuddered breath and tried to keep it calm. Would she ever going to get used to its presence in her mind?

“Thea,” Bucky asked worried.

She hummed.

“Are you okay?”

Now, you care, she thought viciously. She blinked shocked by her mental outburst. As she checked her feelings, she finally noticed the anger. It seeped in her mind under the form of a vicious snake in the grass. It was slowly hissing, body moving silently through the grass before it attacked. She contemplated the snake with interrogation. She knew it’d never hurt her. That, she was sure of. Its eyes gleamed in the darkness of her thoughts like two stars in a dark sky.

It hissed before going back into her darkness. She was about to follow it –

“Thea?” Tony asked, concerned.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to erase the image of the snake. She admitted her defeat when it wouldn’t disappear. The snake had wanted to tell her something. Its hiss had made sense. It had resonated in her soul like an indubitable fact. But when she tried to remember what it truly meant; the words wouldn’t come.

She shook her head, feeling slightly annoyed, and raised her eyes. They all looked…really worried. Thea sighed and pushed down her unrequited feelings. They didn’t feel sad because they loved her but because she was their ward and Rhodey would kick their ass. She smirked at that thought. He so would. And maybe hers too. At that thought her smile diminished. 

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked calmly.

“’m fine,” she replied while eating her waffles.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Nat’", she replied, exasperated. Thea met Natasha's piercing eyes. She knew that if she tried to smile, Nat’ would detect the fakeness. She was surprised the other hadn’t already noticed. For superheroes, they were shams.

“Ok,” Natasha conceded, still staring at her.

Bruce also was observing her. After last night, she didn't want to think about his kindness and care. She wanted to stay strong in front of them. She knew deep down that they were not all black or white but a vibrant grey color. They had never really hurt and that’s why she had to take drastic measures. She couldn’t fell into this emotional rollercoaster. There was no place for her in their relationship. That’s why her only solution was avoidance. At first, she had wanted to call that fleeing, but she didn’t want to seem like a coward. Then, a retreat would imply that they had attacked, and she was forced to back off, which was untrue. Only the term avoidance put them on the same level.

She could feel Bucky and Steve’s inquisitive eyes watching her every move. She was starting to feel claustrophobic. Her body was tensed, her movements jerky and her mind ran circles. She willed her body to relax. The last thing she wanted was to set the two nonagenarian Cerberus on her track.

“Anyway, we saw the video and you could have waited for us!” Clint complained, raising his fork in the air. Eggs flew around him. Nat’ sent him a death glare. He grimaced and lowered his fork slowly, mumbling an apology. Only when he put back his fork on the table, Nat’ turned back to her.

“Next time,” Bucky chuckled, somewhat still awkwardly. There was some edge in his voice. Thea pretended to not have noticed his worried glances. She was almost sure that he knew how she really felt or had at least some suspicions.

“Indeed, next time,” repeated Thor. He leaned toward Bucky and kissed him on the lips. Thea recoiled slightly. As she gazed away, she fell on Natasha’s assessing eyes. Instead of trying to engage with her, Thea put a large portion of her waffle in her mouth and focused on eating the rest of her plate, quickly.

A few days prior, she had been more than excited to listen to them talking about her like that, negotiating what they could do, her safewords and kinks.  But now she could mostly feel the fear and disgust as she listened to them planning another go with her. She only felt more ashamed when she felt a part of her getting aroused. What was wrong with her?

Normally, her kink laid strongly into that kind of play. But the feeling she had for each of them was more than lust and she couldn’t…she swallowed her sob and teary eyes. She pretended to choke to hide her tears. Steve slapped a few times onto her back.

“Here, here, it’s okay. Breathe deeply now.”

She accepted the glass of water he handed her.

“It happens to the best of us," he said softly.

“Your gag reflex is off, little girl,” Bucky joked, his inquisitive eyes still on her. "Last night you had no problem taking us, right Stevie?"

Steve's face became as red as the rage flowing in her veins. She was used to the lewd comments and would normally be aroused. But today, it rubbed her the wrong way. The snake hissed louder to push her to strike. She dabbed her mouth with a tissue. The triangular head appeared briefly behind her eyelids, remining her of its ominous presence.

"Really, Steven? I arrived a little too late to enjoy the sight of you chasing your relief in Thea's throat", Thor complained.

Thea forced herself to drink and unclenched her hand. She pretended to smile, not looking at anyone specifically. She thanked God for the glass of water. Without she would have never been able to hide her grimace. And if the situation wasn’t already nauseating Mjollnir was singing to her ears, calling her, pressing her to lift it. At the verge of giving in and reaching for it, she quickly stood up.

“Whoa there,” Steve exclaimed, stabilizing her.

“Sorry," she said quickly. "I…have forgotten my meeting. I’m going to be late.” She took her plate and glass and put it in the dishwasher. “I will be out for the day.”

“You don’t have to rush like that. I could tell Happy to drive you there,” Tony offered.

Thea could hear the murmurs between Natasha and Bruce and tuned them out. They had figured you out, you have to bounce, she thought hastily.

“Oh, I thought you’d stay with us,” Thor offered, as if he really cared.

She didn’t hate any of them. But she hated how they made her feel. Hated to feel cared off when Thor was using this soft, caring tone. When all of this was pretense. She hid her trembling fingers in her hoodie pockets.

“We’d take care of you,” he continued, his eyes drifted to Bucky and the rest of them. The lust in his eyes turned into longing, love, which was easily reciprocated.

The Hammer moved a little. Enough to calm her down and reassure her. They don’t care about you. They don’t really like you’d wanted to.

“No,” she said firmly, surprising all of them. “I have things to do. Don’t wait for me tonight. Actually, we’ll probably see each other in two days”, she finished swiftly and took off. She didn’t let them chase her, and she made a beeline to the elevator. 

It was working. She was almost free. Jarvis opened the doors and let her in.

She heard quick footsteps and Nat's voice.

It was too late. 

Next chapter

[turkleader]

Final Fantasy VII Remake Demo Spoilers Below

[ooc]

Let’s talk about something that’s been gnawing away at the back of my mind since I first got the chance to play this demo: Stamp.

For those of you who haven’t gotten the chance to play the demo yet, this is a new mascot character that has been introduced with the Remake, a little puppy that wears a round army helmet on his head. We see two posters in the demo’s areas featuring him, and we get a handful of lines of dialogue from Barret comparing Cloud to Stamp.

Now at first I wasn’t certain what Square was getting at with this new addition, but I know Square well enough to know that adding “random” content that wasn’t in the original FFVII isn’t something they’d risk if there wasn’t some reason behind it. My partner and I listened to Barret’s lines, we studied the posters, and an idea began to emerge. Because another thing that’s notably different about the opening portions of the Remake’s demo compared to the original game is... the absolute lack of any mentions of Zack Fair.

So my theory is... what if Stamp is Zack Fair?

Many people who have played Crisis Core remember the line where Angeal compares Zack to a “restless puppy” (during a DMW flashback). It’s become one of the most endearing terms given to Zack’s character. But my reasoning doesn’t stop there. Barret’s comparison of Cloud to Stamp hammers home the relationship between Cloud and this new mascot, to the point where it’s almost overwhelming. And perhaps that’s the entire point, a way to nudge the audience playing the Remake (new and old fans alike) into paying more attention to this than they initially would be inclined to.

Before Entering the Elevator that Leads Down into the Reactor Barret: SOLDIERs may attack on command, but I hear they make good guard dogs too. Bet you've seen a few reactors. So how do we get to the bridge above mako storage? Ain't holding out on me, are you? Stamp scared to bite the hand that fed him? Or is he a loyal little doggie!? [Cloud gets a flash of static and pain, and grabs his head with one hand] Have it your way, mutt. We can do this with you, or we can do this without you. Cloud: [We cannot see Cloud's eyes at any point during these lines of dialogue; is this done on purpose?] Different reactor, different layout. Depends when it was built. Never seen one like this, but I'll manage.

Right Before Planting the Bomb at the Reactor Core Barret: All right. Let's see if little Stamp really can bite the hand that feeds... [He holds out the bomb] Go on. Do the honors. Prove to me you're the man Tifa says you are. That you're one of us. Cloud: Never said I was. I'm just here for the paycheck. Barret: Then do the damn job!

What we can take away from this, at the very least, is that Square wants us to connect Stamp to Cloud, and vice versa. But how do we get from here to Stamp representing Zack?

Part of it, beyond Zack’s “puppy” nickname, and Zack’s experiences with Cloud immediately prior to the events of FFVII (experimentation at Nibelheim, their escape to Midgar, Cloud’s severe mako poisoning, Zack’s death and passing on his “legacy” to Cloud) is the knowledge that many of us (those that have played the game before) have of Cloud’s fractured mental state, his haphazardly pieced together self-identity, mingling the strongest aspects of Zack, the things Cloud admired so much about his friend and closest companion at the end, and the harsher aspects of Cloud himself, still broken and tormented in so many ways by the things done to him and those he cares about (the razing of Nibelheim by his hero, who goes on to murder his mother and horrifically injure his childhood friend, Tifa; the torture he endured for four years at the hands of Hojo; being so close to freedom, only to lose it all at the very end, with Midgar on the horizon...).

It’s fairly common knowledge that the Cloud we meet at the beginning of FFVII isn’t 100% Cloud. And we see hints of that in Cloud’s reaction when Barret yells “Or is he [Cloud] a loyal little doggie!?” at him: the static, the pain, the fact that during Cloud’s reply to Barret we never see Cloud’s eyes once... Then the static and pain returning with the hallucination of the black feather as Cloud plants the bomb at the reactor core, the moment where in the original game Zack speaks to Cloud and says, “Watch out! This isn’t just a reactor!!” Zack, deceased but still able to keep his individual sense of self in the Lifestream, has multiple instances throughout the original game where he speaks to Cloud in this manner, aiding him, nudging him closer and closer to the truth, and helping him in whatever way he can. So it’s very possible that when Barret speaks to Cloud in the Remake’s demo, he’s speaking to Zack, who is watching over Cloud, as well.

But then things get interesting. Specifically because of one poster.

It depicts Stamp on a background filled with fire, carrying another injured puppy on his back. The writing at the bottom reads, “Stamp stands up for his friends!” Now I would argue, by the familiar flaming background, that this is representing Nibelheim. Stamp is Zack, carrying an unconscious and injured puppy, who is Cloud, out of Nibelheim; a depiction of their escape from the burned-down and rebuilt town. The unnamed puppy even has bandages wrapped around the forearm of his front-left leg, much like a certain ex-SOLDIER has bandages that peek just from beneath his bracer on his left arm. The parallels are striking.

“Everyone’s Favorite Series!” -- Final Fantasy? Maybe even referencing Final Fantasy VII specifically, as one of the most popular, if not the most popular, individual game in this long running series?

“The Adventures of Stamp Book 3″ -- Perhaps a hint, that we’ll find out what really happened to Cloud or get more content regarding this scene (the truth behind Nibelheim) in the third installation of this multi-part Remake of Final Fantasy VII? It’s something we won’t know until we get there, but I can’t help but consider it.

This poster alone seems too coincidental to disregard, even if my interpretation won’t end up being completely accurate because of how little we’ve seen of the game so far. But I can’t deny the fact that I’ve made the association between Zack and Stamp, and I’ll be on the lookout for any more clues once the full game is released to see if we can find out more.

We also have this poster, which reads “Mineral Water, Clear Icicle” with Stamp at the bottom-right holding up a bottle of water, and Japanese text that I believe might be Stamp saying, “Oiishi!” or “Delicious!” (If anyone can confirm or deny what Stamp is saying, I’d appreciate it.) Are we supposed to be looking out for something about Zack after we reach Icicle Inn in the coming installations of the Remake? Icicle Inn is where we find out some of the backstory to Aerith’s birth, about what happened between her mother Ifalna and Professor Gast. Are we to expect something else now that specifically concerns Zack? Or is this just a poster to flesh out the world and not something we should be on the lookout for once we get up to that part? Time will tell.

One of the things that does incline me to think that this theory might be on the right track is that recently a video came out on the Official Playstation YouTube channel featuring two of the individuals from Square Enix’s Marketing Team, where they specifically mention to be on the lookout for more instances of Stamp in the Remake. (You can watch the video here, and the approximate time stamp for when they mention the portion I’ve quoted below is at about 10:44-11:34.)

"So interesting thing to call out there. Barret calls Cloud 'Stamp' and we never really explained what that is but he keeps referring to Cloud as a mutt or a dog or a lapdog of Shinra, and that's a new thing that's fleshed out even further. I won't spoil too much, but you can look for Stamp, for more of Stamp as you go through [the game]."

It’s a lot to take in, but it’s the little things that fascinate me. Like my realization only now, after doing all of this digging that all of Cloud’s idle animations (him adjusting his gloves, kicking his boot on the ground to make sure it’s snug, shifting the position of the Buster Sword as it sits on his back) may all be subtle indicators to the fact that Cloud isn’t used to wearing a SOLDIER’s uniform or carrying the weight of the Buster Sword. These things are still foreign to him, things he has to get used to, because he’s never worn these clothes before, never wielded the Buster Sword or worn it for long periods of time.

The tiniest things are there, giving the nod to Zack’s existence, and struggle, and sacrifice for Cloud right before this point in time. Maybe Stamp is just one of the additional ways that Square is making sure the puppy isn’t forgotten.

[strawberry011me]

Ｗｅｌｃｏｍｅ

Ｄｉｎｎｅｒ Ｐｔ． １

Warning: contains feederism and weight gain.

• Couple: Jungkook x Yoongi

• Feede: Jungkook

• Feeder: Yoongi

☁︎

Yoongi has a not so casual encounter with his neighbor.

☁︎

Yoongi left his apartment going to the elevator, he needed food urgently, since days ago his family had warned him that he would come to eat. When he got out of the elevator, he saw a person surrounded by boxes talking to Mina, the receptionist. When he got closer, he noticed the beauty of the guy who was there, tall, with brown hair and a very cute face, he blushed when he analyzed it "Mina, I'm going to the supermarket, do you want something?" he asked knowing that today the girl had a night shift "Don't worry Yoongi, I bring food, by the way Jungkook will be your neighbor" replied the girl pointing to the taller one who was no longer paying attention "Well Mina, I'm leaving, I'll go back inside in a little while ”he turned around and started walking towards the supermarket. "Who is Mina?" Jungkook spoke turning to see her when she could no longer see the cute boy "I told you he was going to be your new neighbor and his name is Yoongi" Jungkook upon hearing the name smiled and thanked.

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Upon entering the supermarket, he grabbed a cart and walked down the aisles picking up ingredients for dinner. When he paid, he returned to the apartments and entered, entered the elevator, when he reached his apartment, he opened the door and entered. He went to the kitchen starting to prepare everything.

While on the other side Jungkook was taking out some things from the boxes, he noticed a very exquisite food smell, he unconsciously left and continued on the way until he hit his nose with the door. He rubbed his nose trying to ease the pain of the sudden blow. When he opened his eyes he found the cute boy he saw at the reception looking at him strangely "Do you need something?" said the pale.

"U-uh, sorry, I've been unpacking for a long time and haven't eaten anything since breakfast" he mentioned something embarrassed scratching the back of his neck, Yoongi smiled "Oh, and are you very hungry?" Seeing that the other nodded, he spoke again: "Okay, my family just told me they won't be able to come and prepare a lot of food that I can't finish myself."

Jungkook entered with pleasure and sat in the chair looking at countless dishes that looked and smelled delicious. The taller one was impatient, he wanted to start eating, but he couldn't be rude, so I wait for Yoongi. When the pale man sat down and said he could start, he took some chicken, mashed potatoes, spaghetti, bread, and some stir-fried vegetables and put them on his plate.

He started eating the chicken and when he tasted it, he groaned with pleasure at how good it was. The other one at the table, Yoongi, saw him eat blushing, he looked so cute and sexy when he enjoyed his food, he bit his lip to say nothing and not interrupt him.

Jungkook in a short time finished with the few pieces of chicken that he had put on the plate and continued with the mashed potatoes adding a sauce, when he finished giving way to the vegetable adding the sauce that was there and in the end he began to eat the delicious spaghetti of four cheeses. When he finished he saw Yoongi give him a glass of beer and he took it in one gulp belching in the process and blushing "S-sorry"

"Don't worry, was everything alright? Shall I serve you more?"

Jungkook upon seeing Yoongi's hospitality nodded. The shorter one began to serve the same, but in greater quantity than before, he wanted to see how far his guest went. Jungkook gladly received the plate and began to eat it. Yoongi only saw how his shirt began to tighten and how his pants were becoming somewhat tight. After a few minutes, Jungkook finished his plate again, secretly rubbing his swollen belly, maybe he had gone a little too far, but it was worth it.

"Are you already full? Too bad the dessert was still missing, but I can save it for tomorrow, I will have to eat it by myself," Yoongi said entering with a chocolate cake. The taller man's eyes flashed and he replied, "Maybe a slice wouldn't hurt." The pale man, seeing him smile, served him a large portion, leaving the plate in front of him with a large glass of milk. The taller one swallowed when he saw the amount of cake, but when he saw Yoongi's eyes he began to eat with pleasure.

Having a few tablespoons to finish, Yoongi asked "Are you okay? Do you want me to put it away and take you to your apartment?" "No, I just need a few minutes." Yoongi seemed somewhat concerned, but at the same time excited, he loved how his button called for help and how his shirt was completely wrapped around Jungkook's belly.

When he finished all the cake and milk, the boy couldn't move, leaned his head on the chair and asked, "Yoongi, can I stay a few more minutes? I don't think I can get up."

"Oh Jungkook, you ate too much, you don't need to go back to your apartment, stay in mine, I can take you to the guest room" The tallest nodded without much thought. Yoongi waited a few minutes and then tried to lift him up.

"God ... I'm so full ..." The pale try not to moan as he felt Jungkook's weight, he lifted him up and laid him down carefully taking off his shirt when he saw his belly swollen, he also unbuttoned the button noting how his belly expanded a little more "Mhg ..." Jungkook gasped when he no longer felt his belly tighten.

Yoongi sat next to him and started rubbing the belly of the tallest. Jungkook blushed "Y-You don't have to do this"

"No problem, you're in pain, the least I can do is this" Jungkook allowed the caresses to take him to sleep in no time. As Yoongi left, he felt the other hand was throwing him onto the bed, knocking him down. Yoongi was going to protest when Jungkook hugged him and glued him to his swollen belly. Yoongi, feeling the quality of this, leaned back hugging Jungkook without crushing his belly.

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Here ends the first part, I hope you like it♡