#something something replacing the worst activity in my life with the one ive wanted to do for so long etc etc

[birbtails]

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[depresseddepot]

analyzing the narrative parallels in my real life as a coping mechanism

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

I Don’t Think You’re An Angel (Anymore)

A Lewis Nixon x OFC One Shot

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Thank you to @basilone​ @softspeirs​ and @mercurygray​ for all your help on this! I am much happier with how it turned out thanks to y’all’s suggestions :)

Warning(s): Some suggestive language, but that’s about it

***

Her father once told her that nursing would make her feel fulfilled. It would get her back on her feet after such tragedy struck. Nothing healed like giving back and healing others, he said. Especially after downing whiskey and kissing strangers didn’t work, she thought. 

It did the trick, to be sure. Nursing school was rigorous, but it taught her a lot about herself. She met some of her greatest friends there, and new connections soothed the ache from the burn of the ones she lost. With a new support system, she wearily clawed her way out of the ashes of her grief, and stood up again. And when the war came, she and thousands like her were able to charge into the fray. 

But the last thing Bonnie wanted now was to be on her feet - in a much more literal sense. The Austrian sun shone outside, calling to her, coaxing her to come out and warm her face and rest her sore feet. But she didn’t have a day off for another two days. And after almost eight hours at the hospital, there were still more patients to check on before she could clock out. She felt that familiar throb in her heels as she headed into the next ward. 

Shit.

There he stood. The man she once knew as Lewis Nixon, but for many years, only referred to as “The Worst Mistake I Ever Made.”

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

He was coming closer, accompanied by a red-headed major she didn’t recognize. To her dismay, they headed for Sergeant Grant’s bed, the very patient she was supposed to check on. He was still recovering from his surgery until he was well enough to be moved to England. 

She decided to grit her teeth and bear it. Years had passed. Why should he bother her now? He probably wouldn’t even recognize her. She knew herself to be an unremarkable part of his life. How else could he have done what he did?

She strode over to the bed and ignored the men standing beside it. She lifted Grant’s chart and scanned it, but she couldn’t absorb anything. She could feel Lewis’s eyes on her. Moments that might have been hours passed as he stared, and she pretended she didn’t notice.

“Bonnie?”

Shit.

Biting back a groan, she looked at him, and met his eyes. Those eyes that once made her legs weak and her heart soft. But now only activated her punching reflex. She glanced at his collar to get his rank.

“Captain,” she said coolly. 

She returned her eyes to the clipboard.

“Okay, I know it doesn’t take that long to read a chart,” he said. 

She snapped it shut and glared at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were a medical professional. Would you like a white coat and stethoscope? Just clock in since you seem to know so much!”

“Still mad, I see,” he said with a grimace.

“Oh, get over yourself,” she shot back. 

“So, you two know each other?” the red-head observed, cutting the tension. 

“It was a long time ago,” she said. “We went to school together.”

“We used to date,” Lewis added. 

“Could not have been more obvious I preferred to keep that private, but I guess we’re in this room now,” she said. 

“Dick, this is Bonnie Butler,” Nix said. “Bonnie, this is Major Dick Winters.”

“How do you do?” she said politely. 

“Nice to meet you,” Dick replied. “Bonnie Butler...like the little girl from Gone With the Wind?”

“If fairness, I had the name first,” she pointed out. “And I haven’t broken my neck falling off a horse, but I avoid them just in case.”

They both chuckled, and she refrained from smirking with satisfaction. Her need to impress him disturbed her. 

“I gotta admit I’m surprised to see you here,” Lewis said. 

“We haven’t spoken in years, Lewis, anything I’m doing should come as a surprise to you,” she returned.

Now that the initial contact was made, she had an easier time going about her job checking on Grant. It was pretty basic, just taking vitals and ensuring he was still stable. Which he was.

“Well, I’ll let you visit now,” she said.

She started to go.

“Kathy’s leaving me,” he blurted out.

She turned to face him, expression level. “Is that supposed to mean something to me, Lewis?”

It should have felt like victory. Like justice. But it only made her sad. None of it meant anything now. Her loving him, him loving Kathy, and Bonnie hating them both for it. The agony she faced because he chose her friend was only worth a few years of marriage. 

Did everything have to fall apart? Was nothing truly built to last? The war showed her that even thousand-year-old buildings would crumble under a bomb. Just as she crumbled when Lewis dropped the truth about him and Kathy. But now they were in ruins as well, so what was the point in any of it?

He shifted his weight between his feet, as he always did when he was anxious. He looked at the ground and then back at her, his eyes revealing how deeply he was stung. 

“Guess not,” he said. “I’ll see you around, Bonnie.”

She didn’t answer for so long he feared she would not at all. But she was still looking at him.

“I should hope not, Lewis,” she finally said. 

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the wing. Dick looked at Bonnie and then at his friend. He had never seen Lewis look so guilty. There was a deep remorse there, which indicated a great impact on his life, but Dick could not recall Lewis ever mentioning this woman. 

“What did you do to her?” Dick asked. 

Lewis cleared his throat before he answered. “Did I ever tell you how I met Kathy?”

Dick shook his head. 

“Well, Bonnie and I were dating,” Lewis began. “Kathy was her best friend. And, well...we fell in love. Behind Bonnie’s back. We had an affair for six months before we came clean.”

Dick blinked, taken aback. He knew Lewis was not the most ethical person in the world, but he did not expect his friend to be capable of something like that. He didn’t blame Bonnie at all for the way she spoke to Lewis. That kind of betrayal went deep because it was not just her boyfriend, but the one person she was supposed to be able to rely on when her boyfriend messed up. And then, to add insult to injury, they ended up married. Now, Dick was impressed with how Bonnie handled the news of the divorce. She had every right to laugh in his face. And she didn’t.

“Did you apologize?” Dick asked. 

“Oh, only about a thousand times,” Lewis replied. “And even after some time went by, Kathy and I tried to reach out again, but she wanted nothing to do with us. And we didn’t blame her, of course, but it still hurt.”

A beat passed. Lewis watched the door where Bonnie disappeared and wondered now if his split from Kathy was his punishment for what he did to her. That he and Kathy - because they started as a transgression - were perhaps doomed to fail. 

“C’mon, Nix,” Dick said. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Or dink,” Lewis returned. 

They left the hospital, but he found himself wishing he could find her again. Explain some more. But he knew better.

The following morning, Bonnie went to change an IV for a young corporal who had drunkenly jumped from a fourth story window and broken his leg. Many of the injuries she treated these days were caused by the jubilance of VE-Day, and she couldn’t say she blamed them, but she did wish they would be more careful. 

“Thanks, Nurse Butler,” the corporal said. 

“I’m just doing my job,” she replied gently. “This’ll only take a moment.”

She reached for the bag, when she suddenly heard a dreaded voice from behind her. 

“Careful with those, they can get messy,” Lewis said. 

She whipped around. 

“I’m sorry, don’t I first open my eyes and realize it’s a new day?” she asked sarcastically.

“I didn’t -”

“What is this magic bag in front of me?!” she exclaimed, holding the IV bag out with taunting wonder. 

“Look -”

“I’ve done this before,” she said sharply, becoming serious again and facing the patient, who was snickering.

“I know that,” he said.

“Then stop telling me what to do,” she retorted.

“I was joking,” he said calmly. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” she shot back, with a bitterness that told him she meant more than just the joke.

He did not speak again until after the IV was replaced. When she finished, she ignored Lewis and began walking away. 

“Bonnie, wait, I think we should talk about things,” he said, trailing behind her. 

“I disagree,” she replied. “Besides, I’m working.”

“When is your shift over?” 

“You know I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Please -”

She halted and whirled around. He skidded to a stop a few feet away. 

“What is it you’re so desperate to tell me?” she demanded. “That you’re sorry? Because I’ve heard that before, Lewis, and I don’t care.”

“You really can’t forgive me?” he asked. “After all this time?”

She wondered that herself often enough. But there was too much. Not only the betrayal, but the effects of it. How could she forgive him for the worthless way she felt? How could she forgive him for her now ingrained lack of trust? How could she forgive him for the nights she spent crying on the kitchen floor, convinced that this was what love felt like? 

His eyes clung to her gaze, and she endured a long moment of weakness where she felt totally incapable of turning away from him. But she knew she could now because she had done it before. 

“No,” she said, surprised by the croak in her voice and the lump in her throat. 

She didn’t wait for him to answer. She walked away, and thankfully, he didn’t follow. 

Another day passed. Lewis did not return to the hospital, and Bonnie was relieved. She worked the rest of her shift in peace. The only disturbance was a violent thunderstorm, which rumbled in the sky and pelted rain down against the roof all day.

When her shift concluded, it was still raining. Unwilling to get drenched, she went to the doctor’s lounge, which nurses frequented as well, for a drink. She had the next day off, so she figured she could afford to get a little tipsy. Her true goal was to get Lewis Nixon off her mind, but as she walked in, she met a dismal sight. There he sat at the bar, nursing a whiskey, looking sadly at a letter. 

She looked at the heavens to address God directly.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

She waited a moment, but received no reply. So with a sigh, she went over to the bar and took the stool beside Lewis. 

“You know, if you’re not medical personnel, you’re not really supposed to be in here,” she said.

He looked at her. “Are you speaking to me now?”

“I never said we can’t speak in general,” she said. “Just not about our past.”

“I see,” he returned. “Well, to address your earlier statement, this is the only place they have Vat 69 in all of Europe apparently.”

“You’re still drinking that nasty stuff?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re not?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve moved on.”

With that, she ordered a gin and tonic. They waited in silence as the bartender prepared it. The soft clink of ice and pop of the gin bottle might as well have been explosions. There were no other patrons to fill up the space. 

“So, are we gonna catch up?” he wondered. “Like old friends?”

“I don’t think we were ever really friends,” she replied. “If we were, you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he warned jokingly. “That is forbidden territory.”

“Do you wanna talk or do you wanna fuck around?” she retorted. 

“If we’re not gonna address the elephant in the room, I’d argue that all we’re doing is fucking around,” he said. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that. As she relaxed into her chair and took a sip of her drink, memories of them laughing together swam before her. Those tidbits of happiness that she locked away so that they couldn’t hurt her anymore. Back when she thought of him as her whole world. 

“Alright, let’s fuck around,” she said. 

She let him go first. He talked about his son, then about joining the Airborne, about meeting Dick Winters, and he even admitted that he never fired a shot in combat. She told him about nursing school, enlisting, and a bit about her journey through Europe. It was all very surface level and appropriate. But it wasn’t them. 

“Would I be trespassing if I asked about your parents?” he wondered after their third round.

She considered it as she sipped her fourth cocktail. They grew up together, so she supposed it was fair. 

“Fine,” she said. “But it might depress you. Dad passed away, and Mom really hasn’t been the same since.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “They were always nice to me. Even after…”

She nodded, turning her glass on the counter, keeping her watering eyes focused on it. As her mother deteriorated, she kept asking where “that angel Lewis” was. Mrs. Butler doted on Lewis Nixon as if he were her own son. And Bonnie’s was not the only heart broken when everything happened. But now Mrs. Butler was stuck in a time before that, and Bonnie never had the heart to remind her that things were different now. 

“She asks about you,” Bonnie blurted out. “Mom does.”

“And what do you say?” he asked. 

“I tell her you’re coming any day now,” she said. “Of course she doesn’t know the difference. She can’t remember anything.”

He half smiled. “Well, I better go see her so I don’t make a liar out of you.”

She half smiled back. “That’d mean a lot to her.” 

She paused a beat while a doctor and another nurse filed in and took up two stools just a few seats away from her and Lewis. The other two were obviously romantic - their knees touched, their hands lingered close to each other, and they hardly looked at the bartender as they ordered. They were so wrapped up in each other. Bonnie felt the distance between her and Lewis was cavernous in comparison. She took a dink.  

“Um, how are your folks? Feeling alright?” she asked after swallowing.

“Oh, they’re the same as ever,” he said. “A little cold, a little rich. They’re gonna lose it when I tell them about the divorce.”

“You’re a grown man,” she reminded him. “What could they do?”

“You act like growing up means your parents can’t be obnoxious,” he said. “They can and they will.”

She bit her lip with hesitation. “Can I ask you something? It might be crossing a line.”

“Honey, I’m on my fifth whiskey, you can ask me whatever you want,” he assured her, knocking back the last gulp in his glass.

“Why can’t it work between you and Kath - your wife?” she asked. 

She couldn’t bring herself to say the name. Calling her “Kathy” made her who Kathy was. Bonnie’s former best friend who betrayed her in the worst way possible. Calling her “his wife” reduced her to an abstract. She could be anyone in theory. 

“She met someone else,” he answered. “Ironically enough.”

The air around them felt thick again. 

“You can laugh,” he said. “It must feel like poetic justice or something to you.”

She shook her head. “The last thing I feel like doing is laughing. That kind of hurt is not something I would wish on anyone, not even you.”

“It feels like you’re supporting me, but just barely,” he joked. 

She offered a smile. “I’m sorry, Lew. Really, I am.”

“Thanks,” he said. “But how on Earth are you so goddamn understanding?”

Her brow furrowed. “What? I’m not being understanding. I still think you’re rude for what you did.”

He blinked. “Rude?!”

“Yes, rude!” she cried. “You wanna cheat on me? That’s fine! You wanna marry that girl and get her pregnant? Fine! But to make it my best friend? That’s just rude!”

He laughed. An old, buried admiration for his smile crept up into her heart - right along the very cracks he had created and she had forced back together, never fully repairing the damage. She looked away, only to see the other couple was kissing now, and Bonnie had to turn her back to them.

“Well, I apologize for my rudeness,” he said.

“Based on the situation, I’m sure it won’t happen again,” she replied. 

“Ouch,” he said. “But well deserved on my part.”

“I’ll say,” she agreed. “But...can I ask you one more thing?”

“We have already crossed way beyond the line, go ahead,” he said.

“If you two felt that way about each other,” she began. “Why didn’t you just tell me? If you had been honest, I would have told you I’d be fine. I would never have stood in the way of your happiness. The lie hurt me more than the blow to my ego.”

He took a drink of his fresh glass of whiskey and swished it in his mouth briefly before swallowing - a tactic she was familiar with. He was constructing a careful answer.

“First of all, in fairness to us, we had no way of knowing that,” he said. “Second of all, and perhaps worst of all, we...we didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But don’t you see how it’s worse that you -”

“Of course,” he cut across her. “Of course we see how what we did was worse. We were young and stupid and afraid. And look where we are now.”

At that, they both finished their drinks. She bounced her foot a moment as what she was about to say bubbled up. Could she really say it? Did she mean it? She glanced at his face and got her answer. 

“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”

“To what?” he asked. “I hope it’s to tell those two to get a room.”

He nodded down the bar at the doctor and nurse. Their drinks remained untouched, but the same could not be said for their legs or their backsides. Bonnie snorted.

“C’mon, give them a break,” she said. “You remember what it was like when it was new.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said fondly. “Remember that time at Joan Watson’s party, when you and I went upstairs and -”

She squeaked to cut him off and her face went beet red. A fleeting memory of his hands on a lot more than her legs made her squirm in her seat. She cleared her throat. 

“As I was saying,” she said firmly. 

“Right, sorry,” he said through a chuckle. “What is it you’re ready for?”

“To forgive you,” she told him. “We’re both different people now, aren’t we?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’d say that’s true.”

He sat up a little straighter, appearing lighter. He pursed his lips too, fighting the grin that was spreading across his face.

“Wanna get out of here?” she suggested. 

“I’m still enjoying my whiskey,” he said. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough whiskey for - I dunno - a lifetime?”

“Not my lifetime.”

She rolled her eyes. He met her gaze and smirked. Then, he got to his feet, and offered her his hand. She took it, and they touched for the first time since what they each thought was to be the last time. Who could have imagined they would find each other again in Austria? So far from home and everything they knew together? And yet, through clasped hands, they felt that home was not so far away after all.

He helped her off the stool, they paid, and then walked outside together. The clouds had disappeared and the sun was beating down a fresh, fragrant warmth. The air was clear. The storm had passed. 

[firemblem-fics]

SFW alphabet. | seteth

-> Pairing: Seteth x GN!Reader

-> Warnings: None

-> Genre: Fluff, Headcanons

-> A/N: this was chosen by a poll on my discord server except i gave no context in the poll so this is for y’all :) also uh im sorry if i’m not active in the next week, i rlly just had the absolute worst nervous breakdown ive had in a long while LMAO so uh ya might stay away from the internet for a while

warning, long post.

A -> Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

with seteth, affection STAYS private. it will never ever be displayed out in the open, especially not around the students. he prefers to keep personal relationships out of professional life

when he does show affection, though, it’s super slow and gentle. he always hugs you from behind and just sways side to side, pressing little kisses against your temple and cheek while you lean i to his embrace and close your eyes.

B -> Begin (How did the relationship begin?)

it didn’t really have a solid beginning. you just kind of wormed your way into seteth and flayn’s hearts unknowingly. when he asked to court you, you were super super hesitant because you didn’t want to replace his late wife. he assured you that she’d want him and flayn to be happy and that she’d 100% approve of you.

you still have your doubts, but seteth is always there to reassure you.

C -> Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How do they cuddle?)

cuddling is saved for nights or early mornings on a day off. seteth is always itching to get up and get things done, so it’s a little on the tougher side to get him to stay. eventually he caves and lays in.

you cuddle facing each other, your head tucked underneath his chin and his legs entangling yours. his hand that lays underneath you plays with the ends of your hair while the other rests gently on your thigh, which is hiked over his hip.

D -> Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning?)

seteth’s thoughts rarely every go astray, but when they do, he imagines what life would be like, just retiring from the monastery and living a nice life with you. he’d like to settle down eventually, but not any time soon

he’s super good at doing his part in chores and duties! of course he is, but he’s very very reliable and does things when asked. it’s nice

E -> Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he would sit you down and explain his reasonings and such. it hurts him, definitely, but he does well at hiding it. until you leave his office, that is.

F -> Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

not any time soon, as said earlier. seteth really will not stop his obligations towards the monastery and to fodlan. he wouldn’t have time nor would he want a very extravagant wedding, either. a simple ceremony would suffice.

G -> Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

physically, seteth is the epitome of a soft, romantic man. his touches make you melt and he’s always trying to keep you comfortable and happy. if you’re content, hes content.

emotionally, not as much. seteth has trouble sympathizing with some things. he’s used to pushing his feelings aside for the sake of fulfilling a duty or doing something, so he struggles sometimes to understand why someone else can’t do the same. give him time, though, and he’ll get better at comforting

H -> Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

seteth’s hugs are firm and warm. they’re always like a passionate embrace, as if it would be the last time he’d ever touch you

seteth really enjoys hugs and physical affection with you, but as i said earlier, it’s always behind closed doors. sometimes he calls you to his office just so you can sit in his lap while he holds you.

I -> I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

NOT fast. seteth is kind of in denial that he even had feelings for you at first until flayn pointed it out, so it’s rather hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that he loves you.

he does say it first though, as you’re half asleep, making you wonder if you even heard it correctly. you did.

J -> Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

seteth doesn’t get jealous, really. there’s really nobody around to even like, make him jealous. he knows that a bunch of weird ass teenagers like sylvain aren’t going to actually come in between his and your relationship. honestly, most people in the monastery probably don’t even know that you’re both in a relationship.

if he is jealous, he stays relatively nonchalant about it, asking you to help him with a task somewhere else to take you away from the person

K -> Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

seteth’s kisses are very loving and passionate. every single one of them are full of adoration, even the little pecks. they never fail to warm up your entire body as everything melts away around you

he loves to kiss your neck. not just for more intimate reasons, but because he absolutely adores your giggles as his beard tickles your skin

this only happens when your relationship has been going on for a while, but seteth really enjoys it when you kiss his ears. they’re super sensitive and they always tinge as red as his cheeks when you kiss them.

L -> Little Ones (How are they around children?)

seteth is super good around his own child, of course, but he doesn’t so so hot around other children. theyre often too rambunctious for his liking, but he’ll tolerate them enough to entertain them sometimes.

M -> Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

three words. soft, soft, and soft

you usually either wake up in the same position that you fell asleep in, or you’re spooning. seteth’s always the big spoon, no acceptions. if you’re spooning, he kisses your shoulders and the back of your head until you wake up enough to turn over and give him an actual kiss.

N -> Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

also soft, but a little less.

seteth is always so busy during the day that when he lays in bed, he falls asleep almost instantaneously. if you want to stay up and talk or cuddle, he’ll try his hardest, but please don’t be upset with him if he accidentally dozes off. he’s a hard worker

O -> Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait to reveal things slowly?)

this depends on who you are. if you’re the professor, you more than likely already know everything by the time you get in a relationship with him

if you’re not, then he trusts you enough to catch you up on most things in the early weeks of your relationship. sometimes there’s a little tidbit that he may have forgotten to mention in the talk that comes up later on, but that’s really it

P -> Patience (How easily angered are they?)

seteth has the patience of a saint

hehe

but no, literally. very rarely does he get irritated or impatient with you. you know how he is and know how he likes things to happen or be done, so you do them. kind of like in the Domestic headcanon, he does his part so you try your hardest to do yours. he doesn’t ever have a reason to be impatient with you and is actually rather understanding now that he knows how you function as well

Q -> Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

seteth remembers everything. literally everything. you’d think in his 1000+ years of life, he’d be an old ass man with shit memory, but no. to seteth, you and flayn are his number one priority and he’d never forget a thing about yall.

R -> Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

seteth’s favorite memory is when he accidentally walked in on you hanging out flayn. you two weren’t doing much other than reading and talking about your books, but it warmed his heart to see his two favorite people bonding

S -> Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

insanely protective, but like in things that matter. if you’re doing something that could get you hurt, he’s in defense mode trying to get you to safety. if you’re in battle, he’s sure to always know where you are just in case.

he’s not one to appreciate being protected- he feels like he failed to protect his people in the past, so to be the protected instead of the protector makes him a little iffy- but he’ll always admit that he needed the protection and will always show his gratitude

count how many times i said protect in that second paragraph wow

T -> Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, etc?)

seteth is romantic. he’s not much for physical gifts, but the memories and sentiment and feelings are so real and present that you really don’t need material things to know that he loves you

of course he does give you gifts, like a pretty bouquet of flowers that he saw in the greenhouse, or a necklace or something from the market that reminded him of you

U -> Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

seteth tends to forget to slow down and take a break every once in a while. he’s constantly finding tasks to do around the monastery and doing things to help rhea that he often neglects his own well being. you always remind him and try your best to help him out, but he never really breaks that habit

V -> Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? Do your looks bother them?)

seteth is rather concerned about how he’s seen in the public eye. how could he not? he’s a very prim and proper man. this, however, doesnt extend to you as much.

he doesn’t expect you to dress up to the nines every day just to be seen around him or whatever. he may be like “darling, are you sure you want to be walking around the monastery in your pajamas?” but the minute you’re like “hell yeah” he lets you be.

W -> Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

this is a tough one, because i feel like seteth would do just fine on his own and would still feel relatively whole. but there would always be like this tiny little sliver of him that constantly misses you when you’re not around

X -> Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

seteth has a secret, super playful side that only comes out when you’re alone in your shared bedroom. he likes to play wrestle you and mess around just to hear your laugh and see you smile.

Y -> Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, in general or in a partner?)

in a partner, seteth wouldn’t really like someone who’s obnoxiously loud and blatantly disrespectful. it’s one of his biggest pet peeves and he wouldn’t date someone like that.

this doesn’t pertain to people who like, don’t realize their volume or is disrespectful to someone who deserves the disrespect, though. he doesn’t like just overly rude and jnconfiderate people who are like that for no reason

Z -> Zzz (What’s a sleep habit of theirs? Does it change around a partner?)

seteth is the lightest sleeper in the history of the world. he’s always on guard for something to happen. i dont blame him, but sometimes even the littlest bumps in the night wake him up almost completely. don’t ever try to sneak out of bed because chances are, he woke up from you just opening your eyes.

if anything, this habit becomes even more prominent when you start sharing a bed with him. he’s just afraid of losing you is all 😃

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Switching Sides: Part 13 (HLITF)

if anyone possibly wants to get on a tag list I’d be happy to make one

👉 @theshove 👈

If you wanna catch up, Part 12 is right here! Happy reading :)

Premise: Growing up in a life of crime in a Japanese mafia, Atsuko Motomori has seen enough injustice to last her a lifetime. To try and give back to the universe her family has taken so much from, she dreams of being a detective from a young age. Her twin, sharing her disgust for her father and many uncles, just wants an ordinary life away from the crime, paing and suffering. Instead, she wants to be in the spotlight with the soft notes she makes with her cello. In their escape of 2015, on their coming of age birthday, they must split ways, never to be together ever again. If one was found, they didn’t want the other dragged down with them. Atsuko, having changed her name and appearance as best she can without a scalpel, sets off to start her life of car chases and arrests.

Four years in a seemingly dead-end police station in the middle of nowhere, being passed over time after time for promotion, Atsuko finally gets a shot at her dream, having been sent to an academy for the best candidates in the country by her boss who had always kept an eye out for her. After discovering her boss may have made her bite off more than she could chew, Atsuko must become the slave of a dominating instructor!? Who so just happens to be the captain of the most famous police unit in Japan? Not to mention a total knockout! Will Atsuko finally achieve her dream? Or will her new instructor put her through the wringer?

Warnings: Language, Reference to sexual activity, Forceful nature, Abuse, Kidnapping, Torture.

~~~~~~

A week and a half had passed since I awoke in the hospital. My recovery was slow, painstakingly so, and I found my thoughts trailing back to every painful memory I had. But, no matter how scared and depressed I got, Kaga would always somehow show up, explaining he had more questions for me, and I would be able to slowly explain to him the same story I had been repeating for days at that point. It was almost comforting and with the silent stare he showed me every time I was able to complete the tale, I felt myself connecting with reality a little bit more. It showed me, reporting to him, that I had lived through it.

~~~~~~

"He's being sentenced today," Juna announced as she sat on the couch in my room, eating some noodles she had bought on the way over. We both stared out the window, the sky raining down hard pellets on the city below. It was a soothing sound to fill the silence that followed her announcement.

"What... What if he doesn't get imprisoned?" I couldn't help my imagination get the better of me. What if he was set free when all the evidence magically disappeared? What if the defence was able to create enough reasonable doubt for the jury to deem him innocent? What if he didn't get a long enough sentence?

I had filmed a video of my witness statement for the courts several days ago, and that was traumatic enough. If I had to do it again in an appeal the defence made up to weaken the case, I wouldn't be able to go up in front of the world and tell my story. I couldn't share with them all my years of weakness as I allowed myself to be abused by the man who was meant to protect me.

"He's going to be put away, Katsu. Don't even put that into the universe." A displeased expression flew over Juna's face as she turned to me, cringing even at how I could think of that happening. I knew it was irrational. The case was solid. There was no way for him to snake out of this one. But, still... I couldn't help but worry.

"Oh!" Juna suddenly gasped, placing a hand on her bursting belly. She was a matter months away from the due date, so the gasp in surprised caused fear of a miscarriage to circulate my brain. I called out, questioning her what was wrong as I lifted the sheets off my legs. She laughed, jumping up and pushing me back on the bed before I could even rest my covered feet on the cold floor. I was only allowed one assisted lap around the hospital floor a day, and I had already used that token up.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Here." She smiled, taking my hand and placing it where her's had previously been. There, I felt a pressure poking from her belly and recoiled in uneasy disgust. She laughed at my childish reaction to her baby kicking and went to sit down again.

Biting the tip of my thumb, the reality of her birthing a child of her own hit me again. At least, for this one, they might not have to worry as much as we did growing up. They would still be hidden from the world, hidden from what remained of my father's mob, but maybe they would have some freedom to be happy and childish for longer than we did.

"That smells really good." I sighed, trying to distract myself from those lingering thoughts, referring to her takeout food. It felt like years since I had swallowed something solid. My stomach felt empty most of the time, but thanks to the IVs, I never felt truly hungry. Just a little uncomfortable.

Juna laughed at me, explaining that she knew I wasn't really allowed solids yet. "I had pudding yesterday! Come on, just a noodle." I pointed one finger up to show how little I needed. My jaw almost felt weak; not using it for so long. She laughed again, picking up a strand between two fingers and dropping it into her mouth teasingly.

The more we talked and she teased me, the more relaxed I became. It was only when she left did I ever let my thoughts return. Let them consume me the way they did. As she told me what romantic thing Kanto had done this morning, a knock came to my door. We both turned and my eyes grew at who stood there.

For a moment, I saw the man that fed me when I was in captivity. He smiled, holding a bag of candies in one hand, showing it to me like it was a prize. I yelled, screaming as I jumped out of my bed and pushed myself to the back corner.

"No! Go away!" I cried out, him watching my reaction made his expression fall.

"Katsu! Katsumi, calm down! It's just Noburu." Juna ran to me from the other side of the bed and held my shoulders to try and stop my kicking. Tears streamed down my face as I begged for the man to leave. I didn't want the kindness he showed me, I was so sure it was what made me feel the true extent of the pain I felt.

Soon enough, nurses came rushing in, pushing passed the man that stayed in the doorway, face blank with shock. When they couldn't calm me down, I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and my consciousness quickly faded.

~~~~~~

"This is the worst day she's had so far." Katsumi's doctor told the man and woman that stayed in her room as she slept in the bed. After her breakdown, the surgeon was called to help explain why she had reacted so vividly and check up on her condition. Luckily, she hadn't ripped a stitch from her surgery.

"But she knew Noburu before it happened. Why would she think he was one of her captors? She hasn't seen him in weeks!" Juna fretted, sympathetic worry spreading across her face as the bartender looked at the sleeping beauty guiltily.

"I don't know, but you can't come again. Not until she's healed. She still has weeks of rehab ahead of her." The doctor turned to the young man and he nodded solemnly.

"Surely she'd learn to remember what Noburu really looks like?" Feeling sorry for the man she knew loved her sister, Juna pleaded his case.

"It's too risky when she's still in this vulnerable stage. When she can fall asleep unaided and have a peaceful night, then you can try. I'm sorry, but you need to leave." Doctor shaking his head, Noburu left, leaving the treats he knew Katsumi would have loved on the table at the end of her bed.

~~~~~~

"What's this?" Instructor Kaga asked as I laid in my bed, staring intensely out the window. When I was sleeping, I had another dream about my captors, but this one seemed so surreal, it had really shaken me up. I hadn't talked to any of the nurses and my mood, not to mention my mental stability, was completely at rock bottom.

"Juna left it for me. You can have it, I'm not allowed to eat." I groaned, shuffling onto my back and sitting up to see Kaga already sifting through it. From what I suspected, he had come to tell me the result of my father's hearing, but all he had done so far was steal my-get-well-soon presents.

Sitting in silence, I bit the tip of my thumb to distract the nerves in my stomach. Kaga seemed very content with chewing on the soft sugary treat gifted to me.

"Will you tell me already?" I called out, throwing my fists into my mattress in irritation. Kaga looked at me with a raised brow, his demeaningly concerned look replaced on his face. "My father's trial. You came to tell me what happened, right?" I asked again, needing to know. The anticipation was too much.

"I don't know yet," Kaga grumbled and returned to the squishy cake in between his fingers. I frowned, crossing my arms and turning to look out the window again. It was still raining, even though a day had passed since I was last awake.

The silence was almost too much to bear, so, with a desperate need to cover my thoughts, I grabbed the remote controller on the table beside my bed and pointed it to the radio on the counter across the room. Classical music with a leading group of strings burst from it and I closed my eyes as I tried to drown out my thoughts and every sensory memory I had of weeks prior.

Suddenly, the volume decreased significantly and my gaze shot open to see Kaga standing beside it.

"Are you 90?" He frowned, throwing the pink packaging of the cake in the trash can by the door as he returned to the couch.

"It's my sister's. She helps me calm down." I sighed, turning it up again, although keeping it lower than before as it seemed to annoy him so much. Then, Kaga sprung up again, approaching my bed.

"You won't be able to recover if you just block it out." He placed a hand on the bar above my head and the other on the guarded rail on my bed, leaning in close so all my senses were enveloped by him. His smoke and cologne scent. His face was all I could see. His words repeated over and over again in my head. The warmth of his chest emitting onto my slightly cooler body. My eyes grew wide and I felt my heart stop due to the proximity.

"You need to learn to deal with that if you want to return to the academy." His voice was low and the comment made my head jerk in surprise. He thought I was going to return to my old life? After all the trouble I caused?

"There's no chance I can get back in. My entire resume is fake, let alone my application. I thought I was going to get kicked if I didn't work for you." I frowned my brows, saddened to have to admit I would never be able to complete my dream. Looking down, I found the arm he had encompassed over me. Running my gaze down to his hand, I noticed his knuckles white with pressure.

Before Kaga could retort, a small voice came from the doorway. "Instructor, I have the files you asked for."

Watching Kaga draw back, my eyes locked with a girl I once had a close connection with. She looked tired, a little worse for wear, but most of all, she was teary-eyed.

"Naruko," I uttered under my breath, honestly shocked to see her here. She just stood there, holding onto a beige folder. Kaga stormed over, snatching it from her.

"You're late." He grumbled, taking it and reading through it. I gulped when Naruko's gaze didn't fall from mine.

"Would you come here already? I can't exactly get up." I smiled through blurry vision, trying to reconnect with the girl I left behind. Her shoulder slumped and she ran towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"What the hell, Atsuko! I thought you were dead! I mean, you were dead! How could you betray me?" She shouted in my ear the name she knew me by, tears flying down her face and onto my shoulder. I bit my lip guiltily.

"I'm sorry but... How did I betray you?" I laughed when she pulled back and showed me an out of character frown.

"You said we would graduate together! Why did you leave?" She frowned and my breathing stopped. The happiness I nurtured from seeing her slowly died as I was reminded once again of what I couldn't accomplish.

"He's got life." Kaga suddenly announced, drawing both of our attention towards him. He still had his gaze in the folder, but I knew what he was talking about. My father... He's going to die in prison?

"What?" I asked, feeling Naruko's confusion as she was pushed further into the unknown of my situation. Even though I had an idea of what he was on about, I wanted to make sure. I wanted to make sure I wasn't being hopeful.

"He's got 100 years in jail for ratting some of his partners. He’ll probably be dead by the time that’s up." Kaga seemed hesitant at first but still told me. I gripped the sheets by my leg and reached for my phone on the table.

"You, go back to the academy." Kaga shot a glare at Naruko and she quickly followed his order by running to the door. Before she left, she passed me a meaningful smile and closed the door behind her.

"You're going to recover and you're returning to work," Kaga announced once he was sure Naruko was gone as I stared at my phone, desperately trying to make sense of the clusters of blur in front of me. My vision still hadn't corrected, but I was growing a sense of understanding when I could see the characters. It was so frustrating, trying to see when I knew couldn't. No matter how hard I squinted or how sternly I stared at the object, I couldn't make sense of anything. I couldn't even see my sister's face when she hugged me. I couldn't see myself in the mirror. Just a blur of skin and the white of my hospital gown.  

"I can't! How am I supposed to be a detective when I can't even stop this from happening?" I shouted, suddenly enraged by how poor my eyesight had gotten, throwing my phone into the wall of my hospital room to dismiss my problems. It fell into reconnectable pieces at the force.

"I became a cop to protect us, but I failed at that. Juna got kidnapped and I put her baby in danger. All I did at the academy was make mistake after mistake. My recklessness put complete strangers in danger! A boy almost lost his mom! How can I work when whatever I do gets people hurt?" I shouted, tears spilling from my eyes when I didn't care who heard me. I was angry and sad and broken and I just wanted to cry.

Suddenly, I felt arms around me. My head was pulled against a soft, hard surface and I felt a warm breath on my hair. My eyes widened when I realised Kaga was holding me, trying to calm me down.

"You're always so damn loud." I heard him mutter as more tears spilt from my eyes. I clutched the arm around my front for support, needing to know that I wasn't in that room. I needed to know this was reality because lately, I've been having trouble differentiating.

“Just shut up for a minute and remember where you are. Forget the past. It won’t do you any good.”

At some point during my pathetic weeping, with the little sleep I had been getting, I slipped into unaided unconsciousness, something else I’d been struggling with since I was saved.

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 25-- Deconstruction/Reconstruction

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  With Radiant Garden under control of the resistance, it's time to rebuild. Ienzo tries to repair the damage done to his family.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

White sheets. Cool air. Color and light. He felt so heavy, and it took him a moment of grappling into consciousness to realize it was because he could barely move his legs.

“Ienzo? Love?”

Ienzo turned his head as much as he was able. He seemed to have motion in his upper body, but even that was difficult, like tugging on puppet strings. “Ev-even?” He swallowed.

“Would you like some water? I’ll get some. Don’t move.”

As if he could help it. Blurrily, he saw Even retreat to a corner of this room--the castle infirmary?--and pour water from a pitcher. He knew he should be grateful to still be sighted at all, after using so much magic. He squinted. Even handed him the cup; he could barely close his hand around it, but he managed it at last. Despite IV fluids, he was so thirsty .

“Are you in any pain? I can get you some medication if--”

“No. I’m not. But I can’t… it’s hard to move.”

“...I know.” Even smoothed some of the hair from Ienzo’s face. His own face was pale, pinched, a large bruise along his throat yellowing. “From the magic use. Breaking down a limiter of that strength… then triggering what you did… frankly, it’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

“Will I be like this… always?”

“I’m optimistic you’ll recover yet, but… there may be some lingering effects.”

“What’s happened? How long have I been out? Where’s Amalia? Where’s--?”

“One thing at a time, child. It’s imperative you remain calm.”

Ienzo tried to center himself, tried to take deep breaths. Even took his hand and rubbed it, gently.

“Amalia is safe and well. I suspect Ansem is enjoying having time with her. Once he received some blood replacement, Demyx was fine too. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled you’re awake. It was all rather… dramatic, how it went down. You’ve been unconscious close to three weeks.”

“Aeleus? ...Isa? What of… everything else? Xehanort’s forces? The son who called himself Ansem? He wasn’t in the throne room that day--”

Even’s eyes went blank, and he turned towards the window. “I’m afraid when I… felt your burst of magic--it was felt everywhere, Ienzo, I don’t think you understand--I assumed the worst and I--I did something reckless. He was our jailer, in my old labs, something he no doubt had great pleasure in. For the first time in my life… I acted on impulse.” He looked at his free hand, which was trembling. “I knew you were in trouble, and I--”

Ienzo had never heard Even sound so shaky. He choked down guilt. “You killed him.”

“...He was the gatekeeper.” He’d turned faintly green.

“Was that the first time you took a life?”

“It does not matter. It needed to happen either way.” He swallowed. “I made my way there, with ease. You killed every Heartless in the vicinity. Those that were human were knocked unconscious, or fled.”

“I… I did?”

“...Quite. The initial scouting indicates that… you may have slain every one in the city.”

“It was not conscious,” he admitted. “All I saw was that Demyx was bleeding out and the soulbinding reacted to all that--”

“--and the rush of emotions triggered magic. Of course it did.”

Ienzo lay back a little. “So without the three of them… and no Heartless…”

“The capital city’s under the control of the resistance.” But there was no happiness in his expression.

“Shouldn’t we be… glad? This is among the best case scenarios--”

“The sudden death of Xehanort and two of his sons has caused something like a power vacuum. The people don’t know how to react. There’s still darkness and various devotees of it spread throughout the country. Some states have turned over towards us, but others are… hesitant. Waiting to see might happen. And there are those who are outright fighting. Aeleus and Isa are among the front line, trying to see what can be done to restore order without worsening things. Meanwhile your father is trying to pursue international aid… and research better ways to defeat the darkness.”

“And of you?”

A pause. “I’ve been taking care of you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be relieved to go back to research, then.”

Even reached forward to smooth Ienzo’s hair. “To be truthful, it has been nice, to have this space to think. To consider.”

Ienzo understood. “...It’s alright if you’re upset, Even.”

“It is so silly , that I feel such guilt for killing one who’s killed thousands with his actions--but my feelings are not important.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” Ienzo struggled to sit up; Even adjusted the pillows under him. “So much for fighting back.”

“I think you’ve done enough. You must recover for what comes next.”

“Amalia. I need to see her.”

He hesitated.

“Please, Even.”

“...Quite.” He seemed to go a little deeper into himself. “Perhaps there will be one day when I’m not constantly in fear of your life.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

Ienzo watched him leave the room. He’d never seen Even so scattered before, so almost… unsure . Had something else happened he was not telling Ienzo, about the man calling himself Ansem? That bruise…

He hadn’t been conscious long, but he was already exhausted. He could still feel his legs, but moving was the problem. Perhaps he could get a wheelchair, and get around that way? He couldn’t seriously sit around and do nothing while all this fighting happened--

The door opened. In came Demyx, carrying their daughter. She’d gotten even bigger since Ienzo last saw her--another month he’d missed--and she was chewing on a teething ring. “Hey,” he said, softly. Like Even, his eyes were closed off.

“How do you feel?” Ienzo asked.

“Me? Oh, I’m fine. Ugly scar, but oh well, right? How are… you?” Amalia was staring at him, not with fear like before, but perhaps curiosity. Ienzo tried to reach out to her with his magic, but it was like swatting wet laundry; it didn’t come instantly to his call. So instead he reached out one trembling hand. She smiled and handed him the slimy teething ring. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sure daddy doesn’t want that.”

“Could I…” He wasn’t sure he was physically strong enough to hold her.

“Ah… sure.” Demyx pulled the chair closer to the bed and plopped her onto the mattress. “I’ve been… bringing her in here for a while every day. While daddy takes his long nap, right?”

She made a sound like “boo.”

“She talks.” Tears rose to his eyes.

“Well. Vocalizes.”

She clapped her hands together.

“And she can hold herself up.”

“She crawls, too. Ah--like that.” She had dragged herself almost across Ienzo’s lap. “I have a feeling she’ll be running before long.”

Amalia looked up at him and made a noise that could only be expressed as “?”

“Daddy,” Demyx said to her helpfully. “You remember now, yeah.”

“Baba.”

“Daddy. Good.” He smoothed the curls off her forehead.

Ienzo felt a rush of affection which was almost painful. “Look at you, big girl.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. She tugged at the sleeve of his robe. “Can you help me?” he asked Demyx.

“Sure.” He eased her into his lap. Amalia pressed her cheek against his chest. “See? Crisis averted.”

“I’m guessing the curls came from you.”

“The only time my hair was long enough to tell was when I was underwater, so.” He shrugged. Amalia gave him a toothless smile. “Look at you, happy girl.”

Ienzo noticed the difference in his voice when he spoke to the two of them. “Are you comfortable? Here?”

“Oh, yeah. Ansem set us up nice in your old room. If you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?”

Another shrug. “Oof, drool patrol.” He grabbed a tissue and dabbed at it. “She’s teething something wicked.”

“Maybe the next time you come you could bring me a book, so I could read to her.”

“She’d probably like that.”

Ienzo wrapped his arms loosely around her, and she let him. Feeling the warmth and weight of her--the subtle twitch of her limbs-- and hearing her little babbling eased this awful ache he’d had for so long. “I missed you,” he said to her. He kissed her head. “I missed you so much. I just… hope we can be a family now.”

“That would be nice,” he said softly. “Wouldn’t it?” The last part he repeated in a goofy voice, and Amalia laughed. “You think you’ll be okay?”

“Even’s optimistic. And I trust him.”

“He’s been up here almost constantly.”

“But the castle is… safe, for you two?”

“Oh, yeah. Magic users crawling out of the woodwork to help. I've still got some fight in me."

“I hope that soon I can be back on my feet, and start being a bigger part of her life.”

“One thing at a time.” Ienzo wondered if he was imagining the flatness in his eyes. “Isn’t that right, Li-li?”

---

It took Ienzo weeks to start feeling something resembling “normal.” For several nights the pain of his healing nerves kept him awake, but at least once it was through with he could limp around a little. He could play with Amalia a little more actively. Physical therapy made him somewhat stronger, and while he had to use a cane to walk more than a few steps, Even believed it would be gone before long.

Members of his family and the resistance ducked in and out. Ansem brought him books, briefed him on the situation as it developed. “Almost feels as though my skills to rule have grown rusty,” he admitted. “It is difficult to tell… which members of parliament left are lying, when they say they did not hold any allegiance towards Xehanort. I’m tempted to dissolve the whole thing and hold elections, but we simply can’t do so at the moment. Making sure our people are fed and safe and cared for is more important than politics at the moment. Thankfully the bordering nations have been kind enough to send along resources and medics.”

“I wish I could help,” Ienzo said. “Being here, waylaid and helpless --”

Ansem just patted his hand. “You jumpstarted a revolution, Ienzo,” he said.

“So I’m told, but I wonder if you all are exaggerating to salve my ego.”

The pat became more of a squeeze. “Control of Radiant Garden was crucial,” he said. “And you achieved that.”

“Only because Xehanort mortally wounded Demyx, and I reacted instinctively--were it not for that my whole plan would’ve collapsed--”

“Ienzo. Why are you being hard on yourself?”

He felt tears in his eyes. “These past six months… I’ve been sitting here in luxury playing silly mind games while my daughter grew up without me, while the rest of you suffered. ”

“You did the best you could with what you had--and you did pretty damn well. This guilt is pointless, Ienzo.”

“I… I know.”

“We are together now. We will rebuild. And I hope things will be better than they were before.”

He sniffled. “Is it over? Can it just be over?”

Ansem drew him into an embrace.

---

Spring began in earnest. Ienzo realized one morning as he woke in the infirmary that the lingering smell of darkness that had hung over Radiant Garden was gone, and a fresh rain brought in the sea air. He no longer needed the cane, but he tired easily, and his legs still ached tremendously. Once he was well enough, he insisted that he be more involved in the reconstruction, insofar as he could.

There was the reality of Xehanort’s youngest son’s experiments. Ienzo had purged the Heartless, but the poor people who had not been transformed were instead traumatized and in some cases catatonic. While there were doctors and psychologists willing to help them, it was hard to tell if they could be helped. Ansem organized national days of mourning for those who had been lost, and released the lists of names so families could have closure. The youngest son had kept meticulous records.

He asked community leaders to come forward with ideas as to help their nation move on. Darkness still existed; but now that people had hope, they were more willing to fight. That, and with the darkness easing, they were getting early signs that the planet could still heal. Ienzo swore he could feel its pulse, its life reaching up to his magic. He wished he did not feel so powerless.

“We don’t want things to go back to the way they were,” Ansem said in a broadcast. “Clearly, “normal” meant “suffering” for some. Darkness… only made that pain more obvious. If we wish to maintain the light, we must heal one another.”

Finally, Ienzo was well enough to go back to his rooms, and begin repairing his family… because it was going to take a lot of work. Amalia was more familiar with him, more comfortable, but still she always looked towards Demyx when she needed something.

And there was the matter of… Demyx.

At first Ienzo thought the distance between them was all paranoia on his part, but it became clear in the way Demyx spoke to him, especially when it came to their daughter. “You dressed her in that? She hates that one, it’s itchy against her scales.” “Sure. You can do that. I guess.” “Look, I know you’re trying, but strawberries give her gas .” “You let her nap too long. Now she’s not going to sleep through the night.” That, and the flatness in his eyes. It wasn’t openly unfriendly, but it lacked the warmth that they’d had before.

More straining than this, in some ways, was sharing a bed. Ienzo had honestly been looking forward to reconnecting on a physical level--he hoped it would help him sleep the deep way he had when they lived together--but that first night Demyx just rolled onto his side and fell asleep. He let it go a few nights, wondering if it were just a pain of readjustment, if he were just used to sleeping alone. Finally, he just got fed up and crawled over to spoon him, jerking him out of his sleep. “What are you--?”

“Trying to touch you?”

“Well could you please not?”

For a moment there was just silence.

Demyx exhaled heavily and ran his hand through his hair. “Look, I… I’m sorry for snapping. But I… I’m not comfortable .”

Ienzo swallowed and felt a lump in his throat. “Would you prefer I slept elsewhere?”

“No, it’s… it’s fine.”

Ienzo eased back to his side of the bed. He knew he would not be able to sleep. As it was, he was struggling not to cry.

The next day they behaved as normally as they could in front of their daughter, but when Ansem came and asked if he could spend some time with her, Ienzo agreed before Demyx could get a word in edgewise. “We need to talk,” Ienzo said.

Demyx wrinkled his nose. “Do we have to?”

“Yes. We do.” Ienzo was surprised to feel his temper flare, but he kept it in check. “Look, we’re… we’re parents, and we’re soulmates . A lot has happened, and you have a right to feel the way you do. But that can’t begin to heal if we keep ignoring it.”

He seemed to not know what to say.

“How do you feel, Demyx?” Ienzo asked.

He rubbed at his arm. “I feel like… I feel…” He swallowed. “Something’s just wrong ? With me?”

“You’re processing.”

“Not that. I don’t know. For a long time I just missed you so much it hurt, and I didn’t know how I was going to do any of it, be her dad, or…” He trailed off, a flush darkening his face. “And then I saw you again, and you were alive, and I was so happy and so relieved and I don’t know what happened since then. Something’s wrong.”

A suspicion slid into place, and Ienzo’s voice shook when he asked, “wrong how ?”

Tears flooded his eyes. “I don’t feel anything. When I look at you. You’re the father of my child. But it’s just… I feel like… I was meant to be her dad, but… I don’t know if I’m meant to be with you?” His voice quivered and broke. “I want to. I want to be in love with you again. But I…”

“I think I understand,” Ienzo said woodenly.

Demyx hesitated. He stared at Ienzo for a moment, and then he took a few steps forward and kissed him, hard.

And it was different.

Physically, it felt the same, the way they moved together. But it was just a nice kiss, without the heavy reassurance that yes , this is part of you, everything is safe, everything is okay.

In his mind’s eye, Ienzo saw Xehanort gouging him below the heart. “Oh,” he said softly.

“What’s wrong with me, Ienzo? Am I just depressed?”

“No,” he said. Numbly, he pulled away.

“...What?”

And then he started laughing.

“ What ?”

Once he began, he couldn’t stop, until tears were running down his face, and he couldn’t breathe, and somewhere the gasps of laughter became sobs, and he was curled in a ball on the floor. He felt Demyx’s hand on his back, warm but the touch was so wrong .

“Ienzo. What is it?”

He looked up. “Xehanort broke the soulbound.”

[dearhummingbird]

i have so many updates! i will go through them throughout the week but here’s one

i have decided to redo my entire wardrobe. ive been thinking about it since before covid so this is not just because i have a huge window of time to do fuck all: i RARELY shop for clothes, maybe each xmas i buy myself one new outfit to go visiting in. the last time i bought panties was when i was 16(i’m 21 this year)! call it gross but it’s a little hard to ask my single parent dad to bring me undie shopping. my clothes are completely outdated in that they’re not me anymore, they’re all very cheap and flimsy in quality and i want to change that. so along with this wardrobe revamp ive decided to only buy ethically-made clothing from sustainable brands. now, i’m going to make a confession. i have done 0, zilch research on this; i know nothing about trends or environmental sustainability or even much about fast fashion in the industry. why i’m making this choice is because 

a) im going to call this ‘financial experience’. i want to WANT to earn money. i want to WANT to work so i can buy things i want. i think for the first time in my life i have actual hobbies and things that i want to take seriously! no more blowing everything on sad-drinking with my bestfriends; i am not in that space anymore. this quote from Toni Morrison’s Sula describes 18/19/20year-old me: “In a way, her strangeness, her naivete, her craving for the other half of her equation was the consequence of an idle imagination. Had she paints, or clay, or knew the discipline of the dance, or strings; had she anything to engage her tremendous curiosity and her gift for metaphor, she might have exchanged the restlessness and preoccupation with whim for an activity that provided her with all she yearned for. And like any artist with no art form, she became dangerous."

i want to invest in long-term life cycles, i want to learn patience and quality. im sure this has something to do with turning 21 but this is also something i want. 

b) my style, as i’ve realised, happens to be secondhand/vintage/non-fast fashion leaning! i LOVE secondhand culture. knowing my clothes had a life before me makes me happy. im known to be very frugal and my bestfriend is convinced that it’s for the worst. while i disagree i do think it’s time to start being more lenient but not reckless or haphazard with my finances. 

back to the me not knowing anything about the ecological climate of the fashion industry, for some obscure reason i kind of refuse to be like i’m doing this for the planet! im ethical! im sustainable! how i see it is i want to do this thing and these happen to be the benefits of it. i think i will slowly grow into it and accept that ive become “one of THOSE” kinds of people because i do want to do my research but will definitely never be loud about it, that’s not me. call me evil! i dont know. anyway

i also made a huge huge purchase from this herb-based skincare brand and their customer service is so so lovely, if there is ever a bad review or a customer has had a bad experience with a product they quickly email the customer with a homemade natural solution that usually fixes it in a jiffy. they have quite a few range of products, so i got their aloe lotion to replace my daily moisturiser and also got one of my friends a smaller tub of it bc shes the one who introduced me to aloe and loves it for her sunburns, got me deodorant cream because my pits are super! sensitive! i know they hate the chemicals of regular deo and im crossing my fingers that this will be my solution. i bought their multi-use highlight/eyeshadow in an opal shade and got the same one in gold for the same friend, who’s got a deep brown skintone. i got a tinted lip balm for another friend who i love very dearly, we dont chat super often and i missed her birthday in April so i wanted to get her something. she also had sent over ben and jerrys to me during quarantine bc i was at the tail end of my semester and hated it, it was so sweet, no one’s ever done something like that for me before. i got two other products for my kooch and a toner spray for my face. very excited!

i decided that how im going to carry out this project is first by taking care of the basics. staples/essentials in my closet that need to be of top notch quality so that theyll last through the years. those are the ones that i will buy brand new. if i happen to like a certain fast fashion piece(i love wrap tops!) i will look for them secondhand. i will do the same for quirkier, more nuanced pieces, unless i want something very specific that i see on a site(because my country has little to zero sustainable options). i have multiple boards on my pinterest now, groups of items and brands that i want to buy from and invest in. 

i also got new panties(!) from a brand that uses recycled material and donates 1% of their profits to planned parenthood.

im sure that not 100% of the brands im buying from are 100% ethical and sustainable but they will at least be making big strides to be.

if you read all of this thank you! big hugs and love

[somegremlin-archive3]

—   ✕ 『 ★ HEADCANON - Daily Life  ★ 』 ✕

          I’ve alluded to Yumeno’s treatment at the Port Mafia in many of my replies as well as briefly getting into it in their about. But I’ve never actually made a full post about it. This will probably be added onto in the future !

          PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS A VERY LONG POST and HIGHLY TRIGGERING POST covering topics such as ABUSE, CHILD ABUSE, TORTURE, BLOOD, GORE, HOSPITALS, DRUGS, MAFIA ACTIVITIES and also involves Mori being Mori.

➥ Yumeno is stuck in the CELL for most of the day. Their cell is rather small with absolutely no furnishing at all and only some dim lights from the outside wall. The air is also rancid from lack of ventilation and the stench of  blood and guts from past prisoners. The cell is also extremely hot in the summer and frigid in the winter.

➥ The bars however are large enough to STICK THEIR ARMS OUT OF; which often leads to them picking up stray keys or anything to pick the lock with and wind up getting out. The cell is similar to the one that Kyouka was kept in.

➥ When they sleep, they have no choice but to either lean against the WALL or lay on the cold hard FLOOR.

➥ They have only ONE set of normal clothes that does get replaced from time to time once it gets too bloodied and ruined from torture ( to account for the whole anime logic of characters only having one outfit ). Otherwise, they’re given spare hospital clothes from Mori’s line of work as a doctor. The hospital clothes provide covering more so than anything else; hospital clothes aren’t exactly known for their warmth.

➥ They have the absolute worst sleep schedule BECAUSE there is no schedule in their life. A circadian rhythm is practically nonexistent for them. Their cell lacks any windows or natural light; making it impossible for them to determine if it’s night or day. It’s difficult to fall asleep in the discomfort of the cell. And sometimes when they DO fall asleep, they are awoken by guards or Mori.

➥ They’re only given actual meals about once or twice a week; the term actual meals BARELY qualifying for what they get. What they receive are the garbage scraps of people’s lunches quite literally lifted out of the trash can. Food poisoning is pretty normal for them. 

➥ They are given tap water once a day. Worse, if they’re too weak to eat / drink because of the brutality they face, they’re given IV FLUIDS. From the point of view of someone with a phobia of hospitals and doctors and with the fact it’s from a shady doctor like Mori, it’s about as fun as one would expect.

➥ Their ‘ training ‘ has a lot of different aspects to it. One of them is literally just learning how to use knives and firearms just as well as the rest of the Port Mafia members. What’s difficult about the training is that they are held to the standards of adults but they do not HAVE the strength of adults so it’s difficult for them to be quick.

➥ Sometimes, those who wronged or defied the Port Mafia in some way are taken down to the cells or some other safely contained space within the Port Mafia. Then, they’re forced to use their ability to CURSE THEM to pit those people against each other and have them kill each other or literally EVISCERATE them with Dogra Magra’s claws. They’re punished if something goes wrong or if Dogra Magra decides to be finicky.

➥ Other methods of training are less ‘ training ‘ and more TORTURE than anything else. Often, they are VIOLENTLY punished with hits strong enough to leave bruises and broken bones and slices with knives and scalpels.

➥ Sometimes, punishments are more UNCONVENTIONAL such as the razors and barbed wire driven into their skin. Sometimes, they have to insert those sharp objects into their skin themselves. Sometimes, they are forced to stab or shoot themselves in non - lethal areas.

➥ They’ve also suffered OTHER torture methods like having bones crushed, being strangled / asphyxiated, having limbs bent far back enough to inflict pain, burned, shocked, waterboarded, basically anything you can think of. They’re lucky they’re a child and that sort of pain EVENTUALLY heals. Physically at least.

➥ Mori also takes deep enjoyment in utilizing the FEAR OF HOSPITALS that the child has. Often, they are strapped to a table so tightly that the restraints dig into their skin. They’re left bound to that table under the blinding white lights for hours on end, surrounded by their worst nightmares. When Mori is finally bored, he enjoys testing various DRUGS and POISONS on Yumeno to see their effects. Most of the time, they wind up reeling from illness and there have been many incidents they would have died from poisoning had Mori not had the medical knowledge to undo its effects.

➥ They aren’t medicated for any of their mental health issues. As for their physical issues, they’re only treated if their injuries MIGHT actually kill them since Mori still wants to keep them around as a weapon. Otherwise, they’re told to suck it up. As per a previous post, they’re also treated for their iron deficiency anemia to keep them being from so weak they become useless, but as that involves sitting in a chair with a needle stuck into you for hours, it’s basically ANOTHER form of torture.

➥ There is no schedule to their work or their torture, leaving Yumeno with barely any rest and a CONSTANT lingering fear of what may happen to them at any moment.

➥ Most of the torture is committed by ELISE at Mori’s command as it is shown that Dogra Magra cannot work on abilities. Other times, their abuse is committed by those that are considered ‘ expendable assets ‘ by the Port Mafia; men that Mori couldn’t give a shit about losing.

➥ Despite all this, special care IS taken to not kill them; only to bring them to the brink of death to effectively damage their mental well being. They also avoid trying to leave lasting marks on any place anyone would see ( such as their legs and their face ) to indicate that they are anything but a normal child. Though, they have been injured in those areas many times still.

➥ This is because aside from their numerous escape attempts, they are also sometimes put to responsibility such as doing business or settling disputes ( or rather, being the violent way of settling it ) like other extremely low ranked members of the Port Mafia. Although these activities are given very specific instructions and are highly supervised because of the nature of their ability and also how the hell’s a kid supposed to understand business ? These particular methods are basically the equivalent of criminals forcibly using women, teenage girls, and children to assist in their crimes. Elise is also usually on standby and also part of it.

[moonlitgleek]

hi sam, love your blog xx why do you think ned didnt ask robert to legitimise jon snow - ik it probably has something to do with r+l=j but is there another reason? also couldn’t ned have told catelyn and jon about jon’s real parents and saved all 3 of them a lot of grief? how do you think that would have changed ned and jon’s relationship thank u in advance xxx

Greetings anon and thank you!

why do you think ned didnt ask robert to legitimise jon snow - ik it probably has something to do with r+l=j but is there another reason?

This is a nonstarter for multiple reasons. For one, Jon’s bastardy affords him a great deal of protection since etiquette prevents questions about his parentage to emerge because it is considered rude to pry into the origin of natural children. It’s normal for men to father bastards in Westeros so no one blinks at Ned claiming that he did; in fact it’s treated as a piece of juicy gossip.But if he was to attempt to legitimize Jon, he’d invite scrutiny onto Jon and himself since many would rightly wonder why he being so unorthodox with his bastard son. It would definitely draw Robert’s attention to Jon which is something Ned actively wanted to avoid. He really didn’t need Robert or Jon Arryn looking too close at Jon’s origins.

On a personal note, such at attempt would annihilate Ned’s relationship with Catelyn. Legitimizing Jon hurts Cat on a deep personal level because she loves Ned and was already haunted by the thought that he loved another so deeply that he defied social norms for her child. Ned also loves Catelyn and the inherent callousness towards her in the act of legitimizing Jon would not only trash the loving relationship they had, but would probably reverberate through the entire family as his children with her were caught between their love for their brother and father, and their love for their mother.This irrevocably messes the family dynamic and would come at the cost of several familial relationships.

As far as the politics of this goes, it should be noted that acts of legitimization are rare enough in Westeros and when they do happen, it’s almost always in cases where there is no direct heir to a house and succession is unclear. It is almost unheard of for a lord to legitimize a bastard child when he has living legitimate children and the one case where that happened with Aegon IV’s decree to naturalize all his bastard children led to the Blackfyre rebellions and generations of war. Which makes for an extremely disconcerting example that bred a sociopolitical disinclination to legitimize bastards, especially in the presence of trueborn siblings. It is one thing to demand that Catelyn put up with Jon’s presence in Winterfell but it’s another thing entirely to make such a public statement about how much Ned favors him (to the possible detriment of his other children) and elevate him to where he could easily endanger Catelyn’s own children. Cat was already concerned about Jon’s prospective danger and had the Blackfyres in mind, it certainly would not help if Jon drew such a direct parallel to Daemon Blackfyre through his legitimization and if she has to contend with legitimate questions about what kind of message this might send to Ned’s bannermen or whether this was a prelude to Jon supplanting Robb. One only needs to look to Cat’s reaction to Robb’s decision to legitimize Jon for an idea of how badly she’d react to such a move from Ned. Those were concerns she lived with for years, since she came to the North as a not-sure-footed outsider with her Riverrrun-born, Tully-looking son only to find a Stark-looking baby already installed in Winterfell.

couldn’t ned have told catelyn and jon about jon’s real parents and saved all 3 of them a lot of grief?

It is not that simple, alas. This is a very dangerous secret that Ned has to be very careful with. As he reflects…

Some secrets are safer kept hidden. Some secrets are too dangerous to share, even with those you love and trust.

He is not wrong here. I’ve always thought that Jon deserved to know the truth, especially before he could be allowed to sign his life away to the Night’s Watch, but I can see where Ned is coming from. The more people know about this, the more danger to Jon is and the more Ned risks exposure. Also, this is information that directly puts anyone privy to it in danger too. It’s safer for everyone to keep this secret to himself.

Of course, we can’t talk about the possibility of telling anyone without taking Ned’s mental and emotional state into account. Revealing the truth means that Ned would have to work through a lot of psychological issues at a much faster pace that he was shown to be capable of, in a society that has no grasp on things like trauma or how to help someone work through it. More relevant, perhaps, is the question of how that reveal might or might not change the state of affairs in Winterfell since revealing Jon’s parentage is often accredited with being a relatively easy fix to what issues arose from Jon’s presence there. Personally, I think that telling Catelyn the truth is a monumentally bad idea. It would certainly go a long way in alleviating Jon’s internalized shame that was born out of Ned’s refusal to identify or even talk about his mother, and in easing Catelyn’s hurt over Ned’s supposed infidelity, but this reveal has plenty of political ramifications that makes it almost impossible for Ned to tell Catelyn the truth. Keep in mind that Catelyn’s main problem with Jon wasn’t about her hurt feelings but rather about the political threat he posed to her children. The truth doesn’t mitigate the danger Jon could pose to Cat’s children, it makes it exponentially worse. Ned was committing treason by harboring Jon fully knowing that Robert’s anger would be murderous if he found out. Telling Catelyn the truth places her in a terrible position where she is either made complicit in Ned’s treason and forced to keep a secret she never signed up for (while perpetuating a threat to her own children), or she has to sacrifice both Ned and Jon to save her own children.

By telling Catelyn the truth, Ned would have placed both her and Jon in danger. Cat by involving her in Ned’s lie, and Jon by expanding the circle of those who know his identity and by making it that his life could be the price of keeping Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon safe. Indeed, Ned explicitly expresses his concern over what Catelyn’s choice would be if it came down to Jon’s life against her own children’s.

Ned thought, If it came to that, the life of some child I did not know, against Robb and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon, what would I do? Even more so, what would Catelyn do, if it were Jon’s life, against the children of her body? He did not know. He prayed he never would.

Pulling back a little from the worst case scenario, it remains certain to my mind that Catelyn would not react well to the truth about Jon’s paternity. I can see her urging Ned to keep the truth from Jon lest he get any ideas about launching a campaign for the Iron Throne or any such crazy ruinous idea. I definitely think she’d actively want Jon to join the Night’s Watch to neutralize his prospective danger and she’d still want him away from Robb so that her son wouldn’t get dragged into any potential conflict involving Jon.

how do you think that would have changed ned and jon’s relationship

If Ned tells Jon the truth? Depends on when he tells him I guess. Problem is that this is not a piece of information that I can see Ned entrusting to a child. It’s too precious and too dangerous so I don’t think that Ned would gamble with Jon’s life by telling him too soon when a misplaced word at the wrong time or in front of the wrong person could expose the truth. That means that Jon would still internalize the idea that Ned was ashamed of his mother or that he abandoned her, or that she abandoned Jon. The truth also does not change the prejudice Jon faces as a bastard and would increasingly bring some horrific realizations for him. I think it’s a given that the truth would bring Jon a lot of pain and sorrow for how it distances him from the identity he spent his entire life dreaming of, and for how it “replaces” the father he loves and respects with, well, Rhaegar Targaryen. I don’t think he’d react well to the fact that Ned lied to him for so many years, but at least the truth would come from Ned himself instead of a third party like what will happen in canon. It’s a lot better for Jon to hear this from Ned and to have him there to try to mitigate the shock and the ramifications of that reveal. That could be really substantial. Ned has acted as Jon’s father his entire life and something as simple as reaffirming that, no matter his biological paternity, Ned is Jon’s father and the Starklings are his siblings would go a long way in making the truth easier for Jon. That’s extremely valuable for Jon’s emotional state.And since telling the truth means that Ned had somewhat worked through his trauma enough to tell Jon, it’s possible that he’d be willing to share some information about Lyanna which would ease Jon’s deep wounds over not knowing anything about his mother.

[prettylittleliarsxxxx]

At last, seven seasons and 160 episodes later, I can finally Google all those lingering questions regarding the show, Pretty Little Liars, without fear of accidentally finding out who A was all along.  After all, when a quick IMDB search of Ian Hastings led to a wedding photo of his character with Aria (who begin a romance from the very first season) shot from the final season I quickly learned spoilers are everywhere.

I consider myself one who would have proudly passed the famous marshmallow test of Walter Mischel had I been one of those kindergartners being tested for delay of gratification.  Although many a time I wanted to give in from the suspense and look up who A was, I persisted, painfully.  Literally, that is, as I often watched the show when I was exercising on the elliptical.

While the show began innocently enough and was intriguing (I guessed Alison to be alive from the first episode and Jenna to miraculously regain sight), over time they pulled out more and more of the stops, with many nods to thrillers such as Psycho (shower scene) and Hitchcock-esque elements complete a Rear View Brew.  Everything ever considered creepy from clowns to dolls, teddy bears, deserted lake cabins and masks were somehow integrated into a teen drama turned horror film.

Including that is, the ubiquity of the worst of mental health—sanitariums, straight jackets, that human muzzle from Silence of the Lambs (whose terrifying movie cover image kept me from ever watching the film in the first place), and even a disturbing dance number from Maddie Ziegler, known for her performance in Sia’s Chandelier music video.

In watching the series, the theme of mental illness is clearly a prevalent one.  Mona ends up in a mental institute called Radley Sanitarium (sanitariums having been replaced by psychiatric wards in hospitals long ago, and certainly not looking like what is sensationalized on the show) at the end of season one the moment when the missing psychologist Dr. Sullivan returns with a “diagnosis” (if you can call it that) which explains Mona’s terrorizing of the girls.  Something about extremely high intelligencepaired with being bullied and not accepted somehow morphing into a multiple personality disorder (a term which the mental health community stopped using when the disorder was replaced with Dissociative Identity Disorder).

From there, Spencer ends up locked up after she abuses stimulant medications and finds out about Toby’s apparent death.  We see her in various states of consciousness as well as locked up in a room that looks like a dungeon with no medical equipment in sight as one might assume a hospital might have (although anyone who has watched the series knows nearly every character ends up with IV fluids at some point during the series whether from being run over by a car, shot by a gun, or burned by a fireplace bursting in flames).

Of course, Spencer still manages to find game boards, puzzle pieces, abandoned rooms and there seems to be a level of roaming about the facility which again, doesn’t happen in real psychiatric facilities.  While I am certainly not an expert in every form of psychiatric long-term facility in existence, I can tell you with certainty that the patients I have sent to the hospital have very structured group therapy, individual therapy, and activities hour to hour that keep them more than occupied and not roaming around aimlessly in underground basements.

After Spencer is eventually released from the hospital, Aria goes in as a volunteer and of course, there is Mona who is repeatedly sneaking in and out of the sanitarium.  Later, uber-A, CeCe Drake, is revealed as a transgender male to female patient who was born to Mary Drake, Jessica DiLaurentis’ twin sister (yes, this is indeed sounding like the stuff of soap operas you’d expect from Days of Our Lives) who was also institutionalized (Mary, not Jessica).  Apparently, Mary manages to get pregnant (twice) and delivers twins in the sanitarium, one of whom we learn in the final season is Spencer (bringing full circle that she was born in a sanitarium only to return to the same one 16 or so years later).  CeCe Drake (the first of Mary’s children and non-twin), is meanwhile also a brilliant mastermind who manages an ivy league degree at the University of Pennsylvania.

You might say the Pretty Little Liars creators are very fascinated by that famous saying about the line between genius and insanity.  Mona and CeCe (basically the first two out of the three A’s we encounter) are all described as highly intelligent.  It seems the narrative then is that these are all sociopathic deviants.  Except that many things don’t add up (not that we expect them to).  This is notwithstanding the fact that two of the main leading men have the hacking skills of what you’d expect out of CIA hopefuls but are just your average high schooler and English teacher.

There are of course many logical flaws that make for fantastic drama—as my husband once astutely asked, “Why don’t they have alarms or guard dogs in their homes with all the frequent break-ins?”  Regarding mental health, however, it is not only the inaccurate portrayal of psychiatric care facilities but also the idea that brilliant masterminds are plagued by mental illness.  I’d argue that in fact the severely mentally ill are actually just trying to hold onto hope and deal with life one day at a time.  The energy expenditure required for a severely depressed patient to exercise let alone plan some scheme is essentially nonexistent.

Even if we are talking about the personality disorder category, we’d be looking at individuals with histories of abuse and traumatic upbringings.  The percentage of children in the “deviant” category who torture animals is extremely low and they are typically not parading around suburban Pennsylvania towns in heels toting shopping bags.  No, I am not a criminalexpert or forensic psychologist.  But as a psychologist in practice not unlike the show’s Dr. Sullivan (although I certainly do not see groups of 4-5 teens in therapy!), I can tell you some major liberties are taken with the portrayal of mental health in the show.

In fact, the use of mental health facilities was not really necessary to tell any of the stories at all.  Mona could have just been a jealous cyber-bully.  Mary could have been a woman on the Autism-spectrum scale, and CeCe could have had narcissistic personality disorder (she makes the transition from boy to girl look seamless and glamorous, which is a far cry from the reality of true trans teens).  No sanitarium in sight.  But of course, in Hollywood, it’s all about the backdrop and the hospital was featured in some of the scariest scenes.  Perhaps as spin-offs of the show come out or there are reunions, we get a fairer and ultimately more respectful portrayal of mental illness.

[cancer-man-speaks]

Cancer Sucks But You Live

My punctuation sucks because I haven’t evolved thumbs.

---------------------------

Sometimes I put things off so long that I feel ashamed and in turn try to bury it even deeper in the pile of things to do. As far as excuses go it’s not the greatest but most fall short of that. A great deal of that lost time is laziness but there is also a part of me that doesn’t want to look back, that doesn’t want to remember what it was like to be where you are at.

    Always obsessed with outward appearance, I cracked a joke when the doctor told me that my PET scan lit up like a Christmas tree on crank. I cried in my sister’s arms when she ran to me across the snow dusted parking lot of the clinic. I smoked a pack of cigarettes on the car ride home, trying to keep my hands busy, to do something other than think about what this all meant. I calmed down before walking in, steeling myself to be as stoic and stone faced for my family as I could. In my head I thought that I couldn’t feel this for the sake of others around me. The moment I walked in the door, I saw the tear streaked faces of my mother and sisters. The dogs milled around their ankles not sure what to make of all their sorrow and their inability to help (or in our beagle’s case, his inability to get fed.) All my bluster, all my hubris fell away when I saw my loved ones, the things I had to lose all in one place. They embraced me one at a time then we came together as a group and I lost it. All motor control lost, my legs felt like jelly. They as a group, as a family supported my weight until I could stand on my own two feet again. The beagle, ever caring, bit me in the ankle for being too far into my mother’s person space.

When I got home from the biopsy, that confirmed the doctor’s suspicion of cool case of type b small cell non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, I took to sleeping on the floor. I told myself it was to keep my bad back comfortable but the truth was it felt good to have something solid underneath me as everything was changing. The days passed and the face in the mirror grew ever more foreign. The bone under my flab carved itself out in my cheeks and jaw. Hollow pockets formed around my eyes that gave me the look of an upstairs basement dwelling gnurdsferatu. The only thing that didn’t change were the patterns on the pitted hardwood of my floor. I’d take off my glasses, lay my head on the cool floor, and follow the whirls in the grain with my weary eyes until they lead out of blurry site. There was a comfort in knowing that just because I couldn’t see where the rich, brown lines ended it didn’t mean they were done travelling.

Either through pity or not being able to read the signs of chemotherapy I’d occasionally get compliments on my physique. Over a beer or two somebody would ask, “You look really good, man. What’s your secret? You been going to the gym or doing heroin?”

Nothing beats the satisfaction of the anti-joke that is responding with an off handed, casual, “I have cancer. It beats the hell out of doing palates.” After you explain the sitch to people a million times explaining it one more time is mundane and boring. They will stumble a second on their words; not sure if you are telling the truth or a joke in poor taste. It’s the ultimate, “Gotcha,” moment. When your diagnosis becomes blasé your spirits soar.

    From a few days after I was diagnosed letters poured in by the boatload. Friends, family, friends of family, people that had passed me once at the mall and paid a compliment to my shoes all wanted me to know that there was hope and that I was not alone. I’d read them and be dumbfounded by the amount of care people could express for a stranger. I was even more dumbfounded by the amount of care the family could express. No matter how hard I tried to blend into the background, to continue my weird, self-isolation from my family they kept firing salvo after salvo of cards and gifts. They’d send me gum, stickers that said, “Fuck Cancer,” (Because as we know cancer is terrified of strong language.), and all manner of sweet, sweet candy treats. There was no way for me to stay off the radar of the people that loved me.  

    I held it together through my first few rounds of chemo. It really didn’t bother me until my hair fell out. Until my fourth round I was feeling like a million bucks. I was getting skinny, I lost a few stray hairs, and I had an actual license to smoke pot. What 24-year-old wouldn’t love that? I was driving to the store to grab a drink and I ran my hand through my hair and it came back in tufts between my fingers. Pulling off the road into an abandoned store’s parking lot I started neurotically, compulsively picking away at my scalp and beard. Handfuls of the stuff coated the front seat of my 03’ Accord but still I couldn’t stop. I watched in horror as my reflection warped in the rearview mirror. I just couldn’t stop. After a half hour of what scholars refer to as, “Going bananas real manic like,” I regained my composure. I drove myself over to a friend’s house and had her shear my head with the clippers her dad used to shave his back. From that day on I was bald. It wasn’t so bad when I got used to it. Every now and then I would get a weird phantom limb sensation, as though I still had a rugged mane of hair, when the breeze blew on my naked scalp.

    I was in and out of the hospital all the time. My guts exploded one time when a tumor responded to the chemo and disappeared. It was what we wanted with the tumor, not so much what we wanted for my intestines. They cut out ten feet of my goop and stitched me back up. I was locked up in the cancer klink for two weeks after that. They had me on a tube and all of my food and fluids came from an IV, except when family or friends were around. They would sneak me a small cup of ice cubes, a rare sip of water, or even, once, a whole bottle of tangerine Bai over a whole night. Even when I was being a real grumpy cancer boy my friends, family, and everybody else would stick it out just to let me know I wasn’t alone. In that exact same stay, a friend of mine actually saved my life because he was able to understand my garbled speech through my nose/mouth tubes. I’d been trying to explain to my nurse that the bile vacuum they had in my guts was pumping my green-black bile back into me but she may have been one of god’s special people. When my friend confirmed that my gunk was being pumped back into me, he snagged somebody. Without that kind of support, I’d have either been dead or in the hooskow weeks longer. Not every situation is bubbling gut ooze but when it is remember to trust those people around you enough to say, “Hey, my bubbling gut ooze vacuum feels like its acting weird. Can you go look at the container the ooze is collecting in and tell me what it’s doing?”

    You’d think that with all this gut busting and chemo I’d be taking it easy. Wrong. I’m a big idiot so instead of resting I kept smoking, went to the bars regularly, and tried my hand at in the DIY rock n’ roll venue game. My nights before chemo were full of putting anything and everything I could inflict on my body. Jumping through tables, mosh pits, and drinking beer bongs to Jean Claude Van Dame flicks were everyday occurrences. I’d been dumb before cancer. With the ability to live a bohemian, YOLO life I did just that. I’d burn the candle at both ends because I didn’t know if there was going to be a tomorrow. Tomorrow always came; usually with a Jimmy Buffet grade hangover. Dumb. I was dumb. I did seven rounds of chemo then stem cell and not once did I let off the gas petal of stupidity.

    But you know what?

    I survived. Against all odds, against odds that I was actively trying to stack against myself, I survived. Was it a miracle sent down from the heavens? Maybe. Was it aliens? I’d like to think so. Was it the constant support of my friends and loved ones coupled with cutting edge, state of the art technology in the hands of the most competent doctors and nurses in the industry even though I was hellbent on dying young and beautiful because I’m an idiot? That’s a run-on sentence. It’s also a pretty good idea of what kept me alive, what will keep you alive. I was full to the brim with cancer while dancing on the brink of self-immolation. If I did everything in my power to give myself the odds of a three-legged horse at the Kentucky Derby what do you think yours are? I bet you take care of yourself at least slightly better. I’d like to think that if I beat cancer there is an infinite amount of hope for you, who is not an idiot with a death wish, to go into remission.

    There will be moments in the dead of night where you doubt your own survival. There will be bright days that you will sleep away. There will be moments where you lay on the floor in the fetal position bathed in hot tears and cold sweat. You will think of what a life without this hell would be like. You will feel like the cards are stacked against you. The, “What if’s,” will mix a cocktail of fatal fear in your skull eating away at your resolve. You will walk into your kitchen and forget for half an hour that you came in there for soup. You will throw that soup up and lay hunched and miserable over the porcelain for an hour. You will wonder who will carry your name? Who will see your babies walk across the stage at graduation?

The answer is you. This may be the worst moment of your life but it will not be the one that defines you. What defines you will be all that comes after this nightmare. With your two hands you will make great works. Gardens resplendent in their rainbow will call your master. You will see the white sands of far off beaches, will feel the artic chill of the frozen wastelands allegedly known as, “Canadia” far to the North. Mortal peril will be replaced with picking up the kids from karate and a gallon of milk. You will watch your children grow and cover this earth like that brand of paint I can’t mention for copyright reasons. As you watch them cross that stage or walk down the aisle you will have at your sides the same faces that did their best to make you smile from your bedside during your weakest moment. Trust in them as you would have them trust in you. They will be your guide when you cannot find yourself, we will be your guide.

[cbsmithpks]

Every Parent’s Nightmare

We worry about our children from the day they are born or perhaps even from the day we find out that are we are pregnant. In September of this year, we had the scare of our lives as parents.  After living through this nightmare, I was told by many parents that I should blog about our experience to help raise awareness of the symptoms of joint sepsis in children.

On a typical Thursday evening we thought our 11 year old daughter had the stomach bug that was going around the middle school. She had a fever of 103.4 and was throwing up.  This lasted all of Thursday night and most of the day on Friday. But by Friday evening she felt somewhat better and the fever had dropped to 99.5.  We thought we were out of the woods, but she was up much of Friday night with a fever and throwing up. I even told another mother on Saturday morning that this was the worst virus I had ever seen and I hoped other kids didn’t come down with it. Later Saturday morning, when our daughter tried to get up, she couldn’t walk. She was in severe pain. Even the weight of her leg hanging when we carried her was unbearable. We knew something was wrong. Fortunately for us, our good friend, Maureen is a Pediatric PA. She took a look at her and told us to go to the ER that she thought she had a septic hip.  “A what!!” I exclaimed. How does a perfectly healthy child get sepsis?

We rushed to the ER and were there for over 4 hours.  They did some blood work, an x-ray and we were told she had Transient Synovitis, which is when a viral infection moves into a joint. We were told it isn’t serious and that it will go away on its own. We were sent home with a child still unable to walk and in excruciating pain.  That night things got even worse, she was up all night with a fever, throwing up and in unimaginable pain. In the morning, I called my friend, Maureen. She said she really felt like our daughter had sepsis and that the ER was incorrect. She reached out to our doctor (with whom she works.) He was not on call this particular weekend but lucky for us, he went ahead and met us at his office early on a Sunday morning. Within just a few  minutes, he said, “I am pretty confident that this is a septic hip.” We were admitted to the local hospital where blood test and an ultrasound confirmed the diagnosis.  

While my husband went home for the night to prepare for an oncoming hurricane (we live on a barrier island off the coast of NC,) my daughter and I were taken via a 3.5 hour ambulance ride to University of North Carolina (UNC) Children’s Hospital. We arrived in the middle of the night and within 5 hours of our arrival, I had already met with the Pediatric Team, the Infectious Disease Team, the Orthopedic Team, they had drawn their own labs, done an MRI and our daughter was in pre-op for a joint aspiration.  After that surgery her pain was a bit better due to some pressure being relieved.  That surgery along with the MRI and blood work confirmed the seriousness of her diagnosis and within 2 hours of waking up from the first surgery, she was back in surgery again.  This time they had to open up her hip and go in and clean the infection out of her hip.  A drain pump was inserted to remove the fluid. She was in excruciating pain after this surgery. To say that my heart was breaking for her is an understatement.  She was put on very strong antibiotics while we stressfully awaited the 48 hours for cultures to grow to see if the bacteria was treatable with antibiotics (i.e. that it wasn’t antibiotic resistant.)  She was given an echo-cardiogram to ensure that there had been no damage to the heart. “What!!! This was a possibility?” Another thing to worry about.   Fortunately the results were excellent!  We found out that the bacteria would respond to antibiotic treatment so next we moved into a “wait and see mode” as we waited for the antibiotics to do their thing.

To be considered free of bacteria, blood cultures have to be clean for at least 72 hours. Four days after surgery we had a big scare as the blood culture came back still positive for bacteria.  They were getting her ready for a 3rd surgery when the orthopedic team came in and said that they thought that maybe pulling the pump the prior day could have caused bacteria to backwash into her blood stream and the blood test picked up on that.  So the infectious disease team agreed to wait 24 hours for another blood sample. This was a huge relief as our daughter, who starting to get some relief, was terrified of having this clean-out surgery again as it caused her extreme pain the first time. Fortunately, the orthopedic team was correct and her blood was clean 24 hours later. So now we were 24 hours into our 72 hour wait before she could be considered for discharge. Once her blood was good, she went in for a minor surgery to have a PICC line installed to deliver IV antibiotics for several weeks before she could transition to oral antibiotics. She also started physical therapy to learn to walk with a walker.

She ended up in the hospital for 9 incredibly stressful days. It was difficult for my husband and I to see her in this kind of pain.  We were physically and mental exhausted. We tried to shield her from the seriousness of her condition and it was very difficult to stay positive and not breakdown. I know any parent who has experienced a seriously ill child can relate. It was without a doubt the worst 9 days of my life. I swear that still today when I think about it -  I have PTSD. It makes me almost nauseous.

While at UNC-Children’s Hospital we were educated on the ramifications of not getting timely treatment of sepsis in a joint.  Because the hip is still growing, it is of utmost importance to protect the cartilage. Patients who sustain damage to their cartilage are risking permanent hip joint damage. These patients may require hip replacement later in life if the damage to the cartilage is severe.  There can be complications such as osteomyelitis, bony erosions, damage to the heart and other organs and even death.

Until this, we had no idea that a perfectly healthy, very active, 11-year-old girl could get sepsis in her hip.  Nor did we know how serious and how painful it could be.  Once the antibiotic was working and she was out of immediate danger, we began asking questions about her long-term prognosis as she isn’t the sit around the house and watch TV or read kind of kid.  She is a middle school cheerleader, plans to tryout for the track team, she bikes, surfs, swims, kneeboards and tubes. She never sits still.  The thought of long-term damage, still weighs very heavily on me as I keep thinking --- “was there something else I could have done after the visit to ER with a misdiagnosis?”  In my gut I knew something was wrong.

The delay caused by the misdiagnosis made it day 5 since first symptoms. After 5 days is when one can get into trouble with complications. We won’t know if her growth plate was damaged until we return to UNC Children’s Hospital early next summer. Her orthopedic surgeon feels pretty confident that all will be ok. Once she was in hospital, with the help of the doctors, we had traced back her symptoms.  We learned that her hip hurt her on Wednesday during PE, but she thought she had pulled it in cheer practice and she wanted to cheer at the football game Wednesday night. I also recalled that on Friday, when we thought she had a stomach bug, she mentioned that her leg hurt.  She didn’t say hip.  I chalked it up to a sports injury.  Because for the life of me I couldn’t imagine that fever, throwing up and joint pain could mean a septic joint.  I had never heard of such thing. If it weren’t for our good friend, Maureen, being insistent on this being sepsis, I am not sure what we would have done. I shudder to think of the outcome. 

At this point, I am sure you are all asking “how does a perfectly healthy child end up with sepsis in her hip???” What we learned is that she likely had a cut somewhere on her body and the bacteria got into her blood stream when she came in contact with it. The bacteria was Staphylococcus aureus which is a very common bacteria found everywhere. Typically your body fights it off but for some reason, unknown to the doctors, several thousand perfectly healthy kids a year don’t fight it off and it takes up residence in synovial fluid in a joint area. So we will never know how or where she picked this up or why her body didn’t fight it off. 

While I hope you never have to experience anything like this in your lifetime, I do hope that by writing this article, others can learn more about sepsis in a joint and get quick treatment. While this is not very common (about 5 kids out of every 100,000 kids) it is scary when your kid is one of them. If your child has a fever and has severe joint pain --- shoulder, hip, knee, ankle, elbow or wrist -  it is a medical emergency.  Don’t make light of it. Insists on blood work, x-ray, ultra-sound and be sure to have them seen by a pediatrician, as this is more common in kids than adults. And from what we have learned septic joints are missed quite a bit by general ER docs that are not trained in pediatrics.

Finally, we would like to thank Maureen Young, our awesome Pediatric PA; Dr. Andy Kiluk, who is incredibly gifted at what he does, for rushing to office and giving up his Sunday to ensure that Peyton was diagnosed and transferred to UNC Children’s Hospital where she received exemplary care.  And a HUGE thank you to the following groups at UNC Children’s Hospital (they were wonderful) -  the Pediatric Team, the Orthopedic Team, the Infectious Disease Team, Radiologist, Cardiologist and Physical Therapy. So happy to have such a great resource in North Carolina!

Now..... go hug your kids because I learned that we are not promised a tomorrow. It can all be striped away in the blink of an eye. We were lucky, but it was way way way to close for comfort!!!

[artificiallyflavoredredhead]

today im going to see my dad for the first time in over 3 years. 4 years actually. im not sure how i should feel about this. it hurts thinking about him. it hurts thinking about how he only wanted to get back in touch because my mom filed for child support. like hes only spending time with me to “get his moneys worth”. he cant pretend i just dont exist anymore.

i want to be hopeful but i dont want to hurt myself. im expecting lectures and looks and harsh words spat at me. i dont want this to be it. i want something different than last time. i know that ive changed. hell, if i hadnt changed, who knows where id be right now. ive changed so much since ive last seen my dad. the fact that ive been able to change gives me hope that maybe hes been able to change to. but i think that we both have the same feelings we’ve always had. ive always loved my dad and hes always seen me as a burden, a waste of time. he even said so himself the last time i saw him. 

that hurt.

everything that comes with him hurts. so im having a debate in my head about whether or not its a good idea to let him back into my life again. i would love to have my dad be an active part of my life, to have my father. but i dont want him if his love means i have to hurt. i shouldnt have to make sacrifices on my behalf to accept someones love. love shouldnt make you swallow your words and hold back your tears. thats not love. thats just one sided. our relationship has always been one sided i guess. hes never loved me the way i love him. 

the way i see it, he sees me as replaceable. thats why he can have a whole other family and not feel bad. because i was never a permanent fixture to him. 

i dont know. i should go in expecting the worst while hoping for anything better. only thing is, im too afraid to hope. im too afraid to do anything that might make me think things are going to get better, because deep down i know they probably wont. why would it take him so long to see me if that was the case? he hasnt changed a bit and ive changed all too much.

[diegopetrucci]

An honest retrospective on 2020

Earlier today I've come across this post on an Italian facebook page, it's sort of a nihilist post that says something along the lines "it's dec 31, you're about to write a carefully curated retrospective post about 2020 with just the positives, when in reality it's been a shit year spent in ways that you really didn't want to spend it in. but you're still celebrating with a prosecco glass showing that not only you have a good life, but you know how to enjoy it too".

Let's do something else then, let's do an honest retrospective.

2020 has been a mediocre year for me.

Let's start with the positives so I don't get too sad. I've changed jobs, leaving a place that had become toxic for me (and many others, sadly). It was scary, leaving a stable place during this pandemic, especially for me, I always feel like the biggest impostor not having a college degree, but I had slowly realised that that environment was eating me inside and making me feel miserable — and I have to say thanks to my partner to nudging me to make the jump. I'm now in a good place, a bit chaotic maybe, but chaotic in a genuine way, surrounded by good people.

I've moved in with my partner — it's been hard, stressful, and a big change of the status quo. Our first flat was a dud and we've moved again after just eight months, but now we're in a much better place.

We got a cat. It's been just three weeks, and she's a lot of work, but Mononoke is giving me more than I'm giving her.

I've started paying more attention to cooking, and slowly learning how to do it properly. I'm not good at it, but I enjoy it, and that's all that matters.

I've gotten closer to a person that was already a friend, but not that close yet. In my last big retrospective [1 and 2] I was lamenting that I had loads of friends but no one really close, and moving out from my flatmates made it worse. Luckily it seems like I've found someone that is filling that gap. I just hope I'm gonna be a good friend for them too.

~

Now the not so positive things.

I'm bad, mentally. The second half of 2018 and 2019 have probably been the best years of my life, but 2020 has been among the worst. I've lost a lot.

I'm incredibly shitty at texting, I reply too late, if I ever, and it's my fault, and yet I can't learn. Because of this, I get progressively more distant to the people I care about. I really care about them, and yet I'm shit at talking with them. I am sorry, genuinely, and I don't know what to do. I even have a reminder every day to reply to people but doing it still consumes so much energy that I struggle with it. I am really sorry to everyone I've hurt. This has made me grow more distant to a lot of people, and I'm feeling the repercussions now that I can't meet people face to face. I talk to very few people these days, and it's slowly getting worse.

Moreover, a big factor contributing to my social circles was the bachata and salsa dancing, and that's gone for obvious reasons. I thought I could do without it, that it was just another hobby, but I was wrong. It was not. It had that mix of positives — being surrounded by people; doing physical activity; releasing serotonin; providing me with an anchor, something to do most nights, to fall back on — that nothing really has, so I haven't been able to replace it in any substantial way.

A similar fate has been happening to the gym — I haven't gone much this year, again for obvious reasons. And not only something that I was enjoying has been taken away from me, but some health issues have already started to creep in: as an example, there's been a period of a couple of weeks where I was barely able to sleep due to lower-back pain, and it was making me miserable during the day.

I've been getting fatter, too. I gained ~5kg, not too much, but still. Leaving aside considerations about my physical appearance more weight is not good for my body, especially for my sleeping (this is the weight where I tend to snore and have sleep apnea which affects sleep quality a lot).

But it's on mental health where I've got the biggest hit. I've talked about it, and I don't wanna go too much into it, suffice to say that if someone is extremely outgoing (5x/week), has a couple of good and stable social circles, does physical activity 3 to 5 times a week, well, what has happened this year is a recipe for disaster. Bad habits of mine have come back too, habits that I had not solved but greatly diminished with therapy and other good habits — I am extremely stress-prone these days, and I get angry for the smallest of things. I'm not that good of a person to be around for my partner sometimes. And I hate it.

A while ago I read that to have a good life you should have a few streams of things that bring you happiness (or at least content-ness) so that if one goes down the others can keep you afloat, at least until you get it fixed. Streams like family, hobbies, work, friends, physical activity. I've lost the hobbies, I'm far from my blood family, I do no physical activity, and I've barely been keeping up with friends. It's not good, and the way I get so easily stressed, the anxiety, and the anger, they all show that my "table" is missing too many legs to stand on.

~

But I don't want this to be just a list of things, it needs to have some action to take. And again, it's clear what to do. I need to stabilise the good things that I already have and work on getting back the ones that I don't. The restrictions are not helping, and so the general environment, but I need at least to try what I can do —— things like pushing more into developing new hobbies, and keeping up with friends. It won't be the same but it should be enough, at least for a while.

Since I wrote that I might be depressed I've not made a lot of progress yet, but already having Mononoke has helped a lot, and I've booked a few appointments for a therapist (it's been two years since the last ones, time flies!). I'm also gonna try doing some yoga classes, I hate running so that's the next best thing. I've done a lot of yoga at my previous job and it was such a nice activity (especially for the social aspect, I've made so many good friends in the classes, but oh well…).

By the way, the idea of having a few streams of "stuff" to rely on is common in therapy, but I've read it the first time in How will you measure your life by Clayton Christensen (RIP). It's a good book, I recommend it wholeheartedly, and there are some videos too on youtube.

So yeah, not a great year, a regression on so many aspects. But I feel like I've finally come to a good level of awareness about it, so I'm ready to start tackling the problems. Let's see what happens next.

[ignaziosearring]

I have a request that isn't xmas or new year's eve themed (it can be tho) it's about the song El Reloj, it is a beautiful song that I love so much from the boys. It is in Spanish so I don't know if it is possible. I like your imagines very much!! Specially the Ignazio ones🙈

This is not where i explain why i have been so silent over the past few months. This is where i announce that I’VE MISSED YOU GUYS SO MUCH AND I’VE MISSED WRITING SOOO MUCH! Hopefully, I’ll be much more active from now on as i try to balance everything with uni.

I have been writing this story for about 4 months, going on and off, deleting and starting again. It’s *too* long, like 1600ish long, but i think it needed this length. The topic is a *bit* dramatic (trigger warning), bc you know me😇. Also please allow me to dedicate it to my uncle who passed away on Sunday bc of cancer.

I’M BACK PEOPLE PASS IT ON! LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT!

Xx

~•~

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The transparent liquid was falling in drops from the IV bag to a small cylinder. The drops were synchronized with the shrill beeping sound coming from the heart monitor. The door opened and let a cold breeze sweep inside the room. It took a worryingly high amount of energy to lift my hands and rub my arms. It took more time too. The bones felt heavy and numb. The side effects of morphine. At least the pain was bearable, even for the ultimate hours.

“Are you cold?”

Gianluca had come inside. The glass window reflected his tired figure. His eyes were red and swollen, a sign he had been crying again. Before reaching this stage I would have thought this as an oxymoron. Gianluca was healthy, young and beautiful. He would live a long and happy life. He wasn’t dependent on anyone or anything. He wasn’t in constant and unstoppable pain. He wasn’t counting down the remaining months, days, hours. He didn’t see the last glimmers of hope wash away in one frown of a doctor. Yet he was the one crying.

“Let me cover you.”

His moves were careful and balanced, as always.

“They’re trying to tackle the heat wave with the air conditioning.”

Smalltalk. He was poorly attempting -and failing- to avoid the issue that had risen a barrier between us the past two weeks. He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. I observed him carefully in silence. His body was tense as he sat down on the chair beside me.

Then, I turned my head to the window again and were confronted with my miserable reality. A body that was fighting itself. Flesh ashen, paler than a ghost, lanced here and there for various medical exams, hanging on bones. A red scarf was covering the bald head. Soul and mind twisted by a sickness that had come all too quickly to end a life in its blooming days. I couldn’t recognize myself in that reflection. I was long gone. The word “terminal” had been vibrating in my ears and hunting me in my nightmares every night.

“There’s no moon tonight. Only the stars.”

He too had turned his gaze to the window. I glanced at the sky and realized that stars would start falling soon. That special night of every year. The magnificent phenomenon that ten years ago had become the reason we had met.

“Gian.”

Our eyes met momentarily for the first time in a long while.

“Don’t do it.”

“Do what?”

“Wish that the medicine won’t work.”

His initial surprise was replaced by guilt.

“You haven’t made peace with my decision, Gian.”

I wasn’t angry, on the contrary I was smiling understandingly at him.

“Wha- why do you say that?”

He was stuttering and nervously running his fingers through his hair, like a young boy caught doing a mischief.

“You were crying, you can’t stand looking at me for more than two seconds and you’re trying to avoid talking about it by making damn smalltalk. You are angry.”

The outburst that followed was exactly what I was hoping for. I knew him better than anyone, he always bottled up his feelings and let them torment him. I didn’t want to leave him in anger along with everything else.

He jumped up and kicked his chair hard, fresh tears already visible.

“Of course I’m angry! Tonight I have to say goodbye to the love of my life! I’m angry at God, the universe or whatever it is that is out there. How can they be so cruel? Who gave them the right to do this to you? To us? It shouldn’t have been like that. We should have been old, very old, with grandchildren or even great grandchildren. You are too young to die.”

The raised voice and rapid flow of speech, the spitting of words gave their place to a sorrowful whisper.

“It’s too soon to say goodbye.”

He had slid down the door and had folded his body, his face buried in his hands.

“Gian, I know it’s not only that you are angry with. Say it. It will liberate you. It will liberate me.”

He raised his face slowly and gazed at me. His look was filled with regret, wrath, sorrow, pain. His lips were pouted.

“No.”

His answer was firm now.

“I don’t want to fight in our last day.”

“And I don’t want to go without making things right between us.”

A piercing look was enough to convince him to sit again beside me.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m angry at you? Yes, (y/n), I am angry at you, here, you have it. You, you gave up. On yourself, on our relationship, on me.”

“I didn’t. I am not giving up right now. This medicine is not giving up”, I pointed at the IV.

“If I had given up we would have been having this conversation 6 months ago. I didn’t give up when the doctor said terminal, nor when he said that all I had left was eight painful, excruciating, humiliating, inhumane months. I didn’t give up when the first clinical trial you managed to get me on failed. Nor the second, the third, the forth. I didn’t give up even though the only thing I gained from those trials was more pain, all while losing my mind cell by cell. I did it for you. I saw the determination in your expression to prove the doctors wrong, the sleep deprived eyes that had spent innumerable nights going through research by research, the contacts with pioneer oncologists from all around the world to get me on their trials or suggest a different, more promising medical plan.”

Speaking for that long was exhausting and made me burst into coughs. His look softened and became worried as he gave me some water.

“Then why are you doing this now? Even if we couldn’t get you on another clinical trial, we would still have two months, just the two of us. We would go home, spend those two months together. We would have more time!”

His voice came out as an exasperated whisper. One last hopeless beg.

“We wouldn’t.”

I was firm. I looked him in the eyes and finally spoke my truth.

“You need to understand Gian. This is not me. This is not the (y/n) you met, fell in love with and married.”

He tried to stop me but I raised my palm firmly and continued decisively.

“I can’t even bear to look at my reflection on the window. And when I do, when I do I can barely recognize myself in there. Do you think it’s easy for me? Don’t you think I want more time? I wanted to grow old with you and bear your children. I wanted to achieve all the dreams I had ever since I can remember myself. God knows how hard I wish for more time. Even when I signed that paper. Even now. But not like this. This is something I can’t keep going through.”

“(Y/n)…”

He burst iinto tears. The body mechanism to get one’s pain roll down and wipe away. I started crying too. He understood. I knew he understood, otherwise he wouldn’t have let himself pull apart in front of me. He knew I had to do it.

“It’s better this way Gian. I know it’s already painful enough for you to see me wash away all these months. This will save you at least some pain. You’ll see me go down sane enough. A good comander knows when they’ve lost the war, isn’t this what they’re saying?”

He chuckled and took a deep breath to gain his composure.

“Come here lay beside me.”

We laid on our sides and hungrily looked each other in the eyes. Our sobs were quieting down.

“Gian”, i began, “I want you to promise me something.”

His expression darkened again.

“Don’t say it.”

“Listen to me. I know it hurts but you need to. After tonight you’ll be alone. I don’t want grief to blind you. Take your time to cry, to unleash the emotions that are meddling with your mind. But don’t waste this gift you were so graciously given. Don’t let your life perish. Live Gian. Do you remember my favourite movie?”

“Dead poets’ society…”

“Professor Keating fought to teach those children to seize the day, Gian. All the nights I couldn’t sleep because of the pain I’d go back in time and realise that i let so many days go by in vain. Our worst sin is that we think we are immortal. We always think there will be enough time to do everything we want, someday. But there comes a time that you are faced with the fact that you can’t. It’s too late. The clock is running out of battery and will stop ticking soon. All you have accomplished seems too little, all your dreams become missed opportunities, just because you thought you would achieve them later. There is no «later», Gian, only «now».”

I touched his cheek where a tear was rolling down.

“Don’t let my memory hunt you. Remember me with love, treasure our moments, but move on.”

“I… I can’t,” he mumbled, looking away, “you are the one for me.”

“I can’t be, Gian. You are the one for me, but I’m not. Otherwise this wouldn’t be happening. Somewhere out there is a very lucky girl that will capture your heart. And I will be more than happy when you meet her.”

He closed his eyes tightly to fight his tears.

“Don’t die with me tonight, Gian. Just promise me this.”

He didn’t say anything. He just nodded with his eyes still closed.

For me, it was enough.

He hugged me and helped me turn around. Like the past 10 years, we looked at the exploding stars leaving their last mark on the universe. I made one wish. I felt free. And then…

Salvation.