#sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with my liver because I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t feel like this from 1 can

[so-much-for-subtlety]

omg im such a lightweight I’m feeling so giggly and lightheaded from just one ipa

[unlikelyempathpruneauthor]

New Beginnings

Will halstead x nurse!reader

Summary: you find out your pregnant surprising you and Will.

a/n: i literally can't stop crushing on fictional characters. This is based on the episode where April is pushed by that one guy but this happens to the reader, so yeah. Also slight inspiration from the office when Jim and Pam find out they are expecting. Hope you enjoy it! also I want to make a part two but I'm not sure lol :)

You and Will being together was a bet everyone was a part of these days. You two just had something, but you two being so oblivious had no idea. You were a great team in the ed, knowing all of his moves, and treatment plans. You were his secondhand and he couldn't be more grateful. He of course started to grow feelings for you quite fast. He just couldn't handle how smart you were and of course beautiful.

“She likes you too,” Maggie said as Will frowned, “what?” he asked as she giggled, “you know what i'm talkin about. Everyone sees how you look at her, just ask her out.” she said as he shook his head, “oh no, i'm not doing that. You don't even know if she does like me.” he said as Maggie laughed, “aha so you do like her! Finally took me months to get it out of you,”  She said as Will tried to hide his smile as he nodded “okay yeah, fine i do like her, but we are colleagues, it wouldn't work out.” he said as Maggie shrugged, “you never know if you don't try.” she said walking away and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

There were moments where you two would join forces and figure out what was going on with patients. It almost looked like there were two doctors, you had a lot of knowledge in your head, sometimes you even forgot you were just a nurse.

“How do you know all this? You're smarter than me.” he said as you giggled “i just read a lot, Will, also not to brag but i was at the the top of my class. They were even surprised when it told them i would be a nurse, said i would excel in surgery.'' you said as he smiled, “well you would. Me and you make a pretty great team.” he said as you giggled getting back to your diagnosis.

These feelings he had for you of course had developed in you as well. You probably felt something for him the first time Maggie introduced you to him. You were slightly nervous, which was so obvious to Maggie. April was also in on it too, wanting you to just tell him what you were feeling.

“You know your crushes are better than the tv drama I am watching.” April said as you frowned looking at her, “what?” you asked as she giggled, “don’t play dumb with me, you like Will.” she said as you shook your head and began to blush, “no i don't, we are just friends.” you said as she shrugged, “if you say so, but i see the way he looks at you. He always chooses you to help him with patients.” she said as you sighed, “that's not true, i help Ethan too, and corner. I alternate all the time.” you said as she pulled out a tally of the times he asked you to help.

“Explain this, you can't say it's nothing because it's dated too,” she said as you laughed looking at her as if she was serious, “April, are you a nurse or a stalker.” you said as she laughed, “I'm serious, you should just tell him how you feel. He likes you back and I know it.” she said as you looked at her, “how do you know?” you said as she shook her head, “not saying, just do it.'' she said as Ethan called her over as you were left with all the tools in hand.

Months later Will had asked you out and you said yes of course. One date had turned into two, and well you were now 1 year into your relationship. Of course Maggie and April had no idea of this. You were surprisingly very secretive. They had no idea about you, nor did they suspect anything. You two did your own thing in the hospital and once you got to your apartment your hands were on one another after a day of no touching.

Once you enter your apartment, his hands were all over you as he brought you lips onto his. You smiled as you placed your hands on his hair, missing how soft it was. He missed your touch, he was so deprived. You were the only thing that kept him alive as he would like to say. Barely making it to the kitchen he placed you on the kitchen counter as you legs were on his waist as he took your shirt off and kissed you some more. He knew all your soft spots. His touch made you feel safe, no matter what. You took his shirt off as he kissed you some more as he took you to the shower, where you two caught up with the eachothers touch that you couldn't feel when working, not even a hug or kiss.

As you walked into the ed alone, Maggie had looked at you weirdly, you looked over at her and touched your face, “what is something on my face?” you asked as she shook her head, “no, you just look a little pale, you okay?” She asked as you nodded, “I feel fine, I was a little nause this morning, but I'm okay.” you said as she nodded “okay, you sure?” she asked as you nodded. You headed over to patients making sure they were all okay and stable and had everything they needed.

Just then two guys walking in caught your attention and Will’s as well, “y/n you busy?” he asked as you headed over, “I'm with you.'' you said as you were putting gloves on to see blood on the guy as you headed to treatment three.

“Alright fellas, im dr. halstead, follow me.” he said as the guy spoke, “don’t need this.” he said very slurred as the friend answered, “hey, just let him take a look.” he said as you turned around motioning him in, “im fine,” he said as you spoke, “alright come on, let's get you on this bed.” you said as he replied, “no, no, just wanna go home.” he said as he sat on the bed, “okay what happened,” Will asked as the friend answered, “we went out to party after the game, and he sees these cards fans..” he said as the guy on the bed answered, “douchebags wearing a ‘cubs suck’ shirt. Yet we won. How could we suck douchebag?” he said getting up from the bed as you placed him back, “sir sit down.'' you said as he was back on the bed and got up again, “stay on the bed.'' you said as he turned to you, “let me go!” he said as he pushed you to the side as you hit the door on your abdomen, Will quickly gave orders to the friend and to security, and was quick by your side, “you alright y/n?” He said seeing your face for any expression as all you could do was nod and bring air back into your lungs.

“Give him five of haldol.” he said as he picked you up and took you two treatment 2 so he made sure you were all fine.

“Your lungs are fine,” he said as you sighed, “okay, can i get back to work?” you said as Miss Goodwin, Maggie and April were there just to be sure you were fine, “just hold on.” Miss Goodwin said as he was examining you some more.

“Will, I'm fine.'' you said as he pushed around your abdomen, “does it hurt here?” he said as you flinched, “ow,” you said as he smiled,  “okay on a scale from one to ten how bad was the pain?” he asked as you spoke softly, “three?” You said as April spoke, “That means it's  seven or eight.” She said as you rolled your eyes, “I'm fine, really.”

“You're probably okay, but i would like to get a chest x-ray to be safe.” he said as you shook your head, “no way.'' you said as he became serious, “y/n, you have some pain and tenderness. A broken rib could have punctured your liver or your lung, I want to make sure you don't have a pneumothorax.'' he said as you scoffed looking over at the girls, “y/n, we don't want to see you wheeled back here in a gurney.'' Maggie said as you spoke, “guys I'm fine, you are all over acting a bit.'' you said they all eventually convinced you to do it along with some tests of course to rule out everything else that could be bad.

With your x-ray, nothing bad was seen, but Will being very cautious placed the tests in order as he waited with you. Luckly the curtain covered you two so he laid on the bed nearby, he was very worried you could tell, “Will...honey, I'm okay. The x-ray showed nothing, so it's probably nothing.” you said as he nodded “well if it's nothing, there is no harm in doing tests. I just want you to be okay.” he said as his voice grew shaky, “Will I’m not going anywhere okay? I'm here. I'm healthy.” you said as he nodded. “Yeah I know.” he said as you wiped his tears away and kissed him, “i'm here for the long haul.” you said as he smiled.

Minutes later, Natalie was back with your tests along with ob, “hey y/n, so your tests look well, nothing is wrong, however we do have some good news for you.'' she said as you frowned, “okay, why is ob with you?” you said as natalie looked at you with a smile, “well that's the good news, you are 5 weeks pregnant. Congratulations,” she said as you grew shocked, eyes widened as you smiled, “woah, really? I- um, i don't know what to say.'' you said as she smiled, “well i'm hopeful this is good news, did you want to call the father? she asked as you looked over at Will who was shocked as well.

“Uh well, actually he is in this room, he's just shocked as i am.'' you said as natalie gasped along with the ob. You weren’t sure if Will wanted kids this early in your relationship, so this was a surprise to the both of you. He then began to worry wondering if the hit you took hurt you more than it should.

“Is she okay? Are they okay? It's just they both took a hit, she got pushed and hurt her abdomen.” Will said as Natalie nodded, “well that's what we are hoping to see. There is nothing that indicates, but we wanna do an ultrasound to be sure,” she said as you both nodded.

As they showed you your small creation you were both in awe, Will was probably more excited seeing that you were pregnant. And of course now your relationship was public.

“Everything is fine, the fetus is well, and the placenta seems to be great. I'm so happy for you guys! We will give you guys some space, congratulations again!” she said as her and the ob left giving you time to process this.

Will sat beside you as he placed his hands on his face and gave your knuckles a kiss. He was filled with joy. You were having a baby, his baby.

“You okay Will?” you asked as he nodded, “yeah, i'm just, i'm gonna be a dad.” he said softly as you nodded, “yeah you are, sorry i worried you.'' you said as he shook his head, “no, the good thing is that you are both fine. y/n, you have no idea how happy i am.'' you said as you smiled as you placed his hand on your belly that would soon blossom.

“I'm happy, over the moon to be exact. I just, when she said that i worried, since maybe it's too soon.'' you said as he shook his head, “no, it's not too soon. This is our timing. Might be in the wrong order, but don't worry, I'll put that ring on your finger soon.'' you said as you blushed playfully slapping him, “im serious honey, before you know it you'll be Y/n Halstead.'' you said as you smiled, “does have a nice ring to it.'' you said as you kissed him and from afar, Maggie and the others were all happy. Maggie, being the winner of the bet, had been collecting her money. She knew it the whole time. There was no doubt you two were in love. So in love that you were starting a new life with one another. It was meant to be.

[catchester]

This is my 5th attempt to post this.

TW: Illness. 

I get distracted and go off on tangents and end up writing a wall of justification, because when I’m sick, I think you’ll think I’m a hypochondriac. I’ll tell you I have a cold, that’s nothing and easily medicated into submission, but things like having the norovirus, that I won’t mention until I’m recovered, usually for a while. 

Well this time I’m speaking up because this is going to be a big part of my life for a while. And yes, I have a copy of my CT report and discharge letter because I still think you won’t believe me. You’ll call me an attention seeker.  

I have stage 4 metastatic bowel cancer with metastases in the lungs and liver, as well as lymph involvement. 

I have a 9% chance of seeing the year out. 

Only 4 people know in real life, and my best friend on here. 

I haven’t told my parents and I don’t want to. My mother’s reaction will probably break me. My father is my facebook friend, and since he chose my stepmother over his children (seriously, she gave him an ultimatum, her or us) I don’t think he deserves to get to pretend to care. 

The problem with keeping this a secret though, is that I’m constantly self censoring. My life is an open book and I’ve come to terms with the embarrassing and shameful things in my past. I don’t drone on about them but if my experiences can help someone else, I’ll share my story. It’s not like me to hide aspects of myself.

I want to joke about this because gallows humour has long been our family’s way of dealing with awful shit. 

So anyway, tomorrow my multidisciplinary team (MDT - surgical, chemo, & radiation) are meeting to best decide how to treat this. I’m too young for this disease. I’m too young to even be in the screening program. My big fear is they’re going to say it’s too far gone and give me palliative care only, but from the speed of the tests I’ve had, I think they’re planning to hit this hard. It’s going to be a miserable year for me but, I’m not ready to roll over and play dead. 

So there, I said it. Let’s see if I have the courage to press post. 

EDIT: Took me 4 hours to work up the courage to post. 

I feel like a need a nemesis, someone who will gloat and make me stronger out of spite (never underestimate the power of spite). Trouble is, if this is terminal, my final act of heroism has to be to take you down with me in some dramatic fashion, like pulling you into a volcano. 

Applications for the position of Cat’s nemesis on a postcard please (Blue Peter watchers will understand that reference). 

___________

For the squeamish, there’s icky talk below. 

And finally, on a serious note, when Chadwick Boseman died it occurred to me that I really should get my irritable bowel syndrome checked out, just to be sure it is IBS. I even looked on the website about how to get tested. It starts with a stool sample you do at home, but they note that if you have haemorrhoids and there is blood in your sample, you’ll be asked to come in for an endoscopy anyway. 

I do sometimes bleed, but I assumed it was from the haemorrhoids. 

We were in the middle of covid, the NHS was stretched to its limits, I was too young for bowel cancer, and who wants a tube stuck up their bum? (well, okay, some people probably get off on that). 

So I did nothing. 

The blood was likely coming from my colon, I saw the live feed from my colonoscopy. Remember those 80s slasher movies where you’d see someone stabbed in silhouette, then someone threw a bucket of blood at the screen? Yeah, it looked like that. Or maybe Carrie at her prom. 

But colonoscopies are not as bad as they seem. I didn’t want to be sedated so they gave me gas and air. Each time they took a biopsy I took a breath of it and that pretty much negated the pain and wore off immediately. There was no lasting discomfort. 

If you think there’s maybe even a chance something is wrong, get checked out. Yes, I recognise my privilege in having free healthcare, but please, get checked out if you at all can. I wonder where I’d be now if I’d gone to the GP 18 months ago. He was too young for it too, just a year older than me.

And I still have no serious symptoms. I went to the Dr for a lump in my breast, my blood tests showed I was dangerously anaemic, and I was admitted to hospital that night. 1 CT scan later and I’ve essentially been handed a death sentence. 

But don’t think that being anaemic has a scary cause and hide from the bad news. Someone else on my ward was admitted for being dangerously anaemic too. Her diagnosis? She wasn't getting enough vitamin B12. 

Well, no one ever said life was fair. 

And I’ll leave you with this final thought. Yes, the lung metastases do mean that I have bum in my lung. 

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine - Chapter Two

Alright people, say it with me: Trust Issues. Also Finn goes from zero to one hundred real fast.

This is definitely a filler chapter; we’ll get to more spy stuff next chapter.

@lumosinlove

Chapter One

.

Finn made sure to get to the office early enough to have time for a trip down to the Archives, his second cup of coffee in hand as he took the elevator up to the fifth floor of the building. He needed intel. Not on the Snakes – they were getting briefed on them later today. No, he was looking for files on his new partners.

Granted, he could learn a lot from observing them on his own time, but that could only give him so much. In order to get the full picture, he needed their hometowns, history, information about their families, jobs they’d done in the past, you name it. Because, for one of the only times in his life, he was stumped. His entire job was based on how well he could read people; this was frustratingly unusual.

Unusually frustrating? Finn questioned as elevator opened with a ding.

It was both frustrating and unusual. There.

Figuring Logan out was harder than he’d thought it would be. Finn was having a really hard time connecting the Logan he knew from two months ago to the one he was trying to get to know now. He was so different compared to the version of Logan he’d met at the New Year’s party… but alcohol tended to have that effect on people. The guy who cuddled with him on that ratty old couch while nursing a rum and coke now kept his distance. The easy smile and contagious laugh Finn remembered hadn’t been seen or heard since. He was so guarded. About everything, it seemed like. That made him hard to get to know, hard to predict. 

And then there was Leo. Leo made absolutely no sense, in Finn’s opinion. With constant movement but controlled, practiced actions, he was a paradoxical combination of restless and serene. His nerves pointed towards inexperience, but his eyes told a different story – one with complete confidence of his capabilities. He was an enigma. And Finn couldn’t seem to get a read on him.

That was important to Finn. He needed to be able to read and understand his partners. He needed to be able to know their thoughts, predict their every move, trust them. They wouldn’t work together otherwise.

So he woke up at a god-forsaken hour – it was still dark outside – and here he was, outside the Archives.

Staring at the back, broad shoulders, and brown hair of one of his new partners.

Fuck.

He put on a smile. “If I’d known I was meeting you here, I would’ve brought coffee for you.”

Logan didn’t tense, exactly, but his shoulders stiffened slightly. He turned and smiled back. It still wasn’t the smile Finn remembered from that night, wasn’t the one he wanted to see again so badly. “Hey. I see you had the same idea as me.”

“And what’s that?”

He shrugged, indifferent. “Getting intel on your new partners.”

“Nah,” Finn lied as they walked side-by-side to the front desk, “I’m here to brush up on the previous missions against the Snakes’ before our briefing this afternoon. But it’s nice that you want to do your research on us.” He winked. Logan’s lips twitched in an attempt to withhold a smile.

“Can I help you boys?”

Finn turned his bright smile to Lily Potter, who was manning the Archives desk. “Hello, my fellow redhead! We would like the files on past Snakes’ missions, and then the files on Knut, Tremblay, and yours truly, please.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How much time do you have on your hands?”

“Don’t have anything on my schedule until this afternoon. Why?”

“The missions will take you at least two days to get through. It’s probably eight, ten years of files.”

Finn whistled lowly. “Holy shit.”

He hadn’t really thought this through. In his defense, though, it was a spur of the moment idea.

“Well, just the other files, then. Someone over here wants to do research on his new partners.”

Lily sent Logan a curious glance, but left to grab the files. Finn turned to Logan with a flirtatious smile, resting his arm on the desk. “So, what all do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

“I seriously doubt that.”  Logan snorted, nose crinkling in the process.

Finn’s smile turned more genuine. God, he was cute. “Ok, then ask away. Here, I’ll help you out. I’m a Gemini, I graduated from Harvard, I’m a sucker for green eyes, I enjoy long, romantic walks on the beach as long as there’s no seaweed-”

“Why would you think any of that is relevant?”

“I give you all this information and that’s the first question you ask? I’m offended.” Lily chose that moment to return with three files, two significantly thicker than the other one. Finn thanked her and grabbed Logan’s file for himself before passing the other two to Logan.

“Have fun researching!” Finn said as he turned to head for the elevator again. He paused before looking back at Logan and adding with a wink, “Oh, and pass along Nut’s file to me when you’re done reading it.”

***

Remus stepped foot into the briefing room to find Sirius already there, messing with a laptop. Where he got said laptop was unknown. And a little worrying, seeing that he’d shown up in Gryffindor with a bag of clothes, some cash, and nothing else.

He glanced up at Remus and looked him over with a smile. “Good afternoon. Long time, no see.”

“What are you up to?” Remus asked as he set his bag down, clutching his cup of tea in his other hand and looking back at Sirius. There were bags under his eyes, reminding Remus of the fact that he was still sleeping on his couch. Sleeping was a loose term, though. He had also been awake when Remus had gone to bed and when he got up in the morning. Did the man ever sleep?

“Oh, nothing much.” Sirius said, hitting a few keys on the laptop in rapid succession. “Getting ready to brief the cubs.”

“The cubs?”

“Your logo is a lion. And they’re the youngest ones here, right? Hence the cubs.”

“Cute.” Remus sat down in one of the chairs with a sigh and took a sip of his tea. “So what are you briefing them on today?”

“Members of the Snakes. I have a powerpoint with pictures and everything.”

“Oh god.”

Sirius rolled his eyes at Remus. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. Better than me droning on and expecting them to stay focused.”

“They’re spies. Sometimes, that’s part of the job.”

“Sure. But it doesn’t have to be.”

Remus smiled a little at that. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I try.”

He hummed, cupping his mug with both hands. “You know, if you were really thoughtful you’d stop leaving your dishes in the sink.”

That startled a laugh out of Sirius. “Now, why would I do that when it’s so fun to get on your nerves?”

“You don’t get on my nerves.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “No?”

“No.” He took another sip of tea to hide his smile. “I’m a very patient man.”

Sirius was still laughing by the time Knut, O’Hara, and Tremblay entered the room. They all sat side by side, not really talking much and still a little unsure of each other. That needed to change soon. You couldn’t afford to be doubting your partners while on missions like the ones they’d be getting into.

“Alright, cubs! Let’s get started, shall we?” Sirius asked, connecting the laptop to the room’s projector. “Today we’re going over the members of the Snakes and what all you need to know about them.”

An animated picture of a snake in a party hat showed up on the projector. Remus sighed.

“Ok, so we’ll start at the top.” He switched to the next slide. “This is Riddle. Fuck Riddle. He’s in charge of every little detail of the Snakes, and very paranoid about handing over tasks to other members. He’s got a lot of messed up ideas about ethics and – well, pretty much everything.”

“What’s wrong with his eyes?” Logan asked, still staring uncomfortably at the yellow eyes on the screen.

Sirius shrugged. “I think it’s a genetics thing. Something about liver issues. I never really paid attention. On to the next member!”

A picture of a greasy-haired man with a sour expression on his face glared back at them.

“Snape.” Remus said with disdain. At Sirius’ look, he just shrugged. “Pots has gone up against him a few times. He hates the guy and makes sure everyone knows it. He works in the drug side of their operation.”

“Exactly.” Sirius smiled, which proved to be more distracting than Remus thought it would be. There had been teasing smiles, flirty smiles, sarcastic smiles, but this one was new. This was one of the first genuine smiles he’d seen from the ex-Snake. “I think I like Potter a little more now.”

“I think you two could actually be really good friends, and that terrifies me.”

“Ok, next is Bellatrix. Please, please avoid her as much as possible. She’s certifiably insane.”

Finn frowned. “She’s got one of the flash drives, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes. So it’s going to be up to you to distract her and Leo to grab the drive, probably.”

Both boys paled a little, then looked to each other, seeming to have a silent conversation all their own.

Sirius moved on to the next slide, where a man with cold eyes and a feral smile looked back at them. “This is Fenrir Greyback. Don’t fuck around with this one, he’s ruthless.”

Finn and Logan’s eyes snapped over to Loops, who looked pale and slightly nauseous. His hand was on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, massaging the muscle absentmindedly. Not for the first time, Finn wondered what exactly happened on that mission. All he knew was that Loops was supposed to take Greyback down and he came back with a mutilated shoulder and new cuts on his face that were sure to scar. He hadn’t been back in the field since.

Leo’s gaze moved from one person in the room to the next, slowly piecing together the story. He didn’t know all the details yet, but he knew they couldn’t be good.

Sirius, who was still talking, finally seemed to connect the dots. His eyes got wide and his sentence trailed off to remain incomplete. He stared at Loops in horror. “Fuck.”

“I think that’s enough for today.” Leo said quietly but firmly, getting out of his seat while giving Remus a meaningful look. His partners followed suit. “We can pick this up again tomorrow.”

The three of them left in a hurry, leaving Sirius and Remus alone. Remus started grabbing his meticulously organized notes and shoved them in his bag. He could feel Sirius’ gaze on him, but he refused to look up.

“Listen, Remus, I had no idea –”

“Of course you didn’t.” Remus cut in calmly. “How could you have known? Hell, you probably congratulated him after that mission –”

“That’s not true –”

“But you were there. You knew what he did to people and yet you just stood by.”

“Why do you think I left?” Sirius demanded, his voice raising. Remus finally met his gaze. “You weren’t the only one who got screwed over by the Snakes. I grew up watching that shit, just assuming it was normal because that’s the way it’s always been there. And then I realized my parents were monsters and started thinking for myself and realized how fucked up that organization is. Do you really think I’d be here if I condoned that sort of shit?”

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure you cared. The only motivation for wanting to take the Snakes down that you’ve deigned to share with us is that you want your brother safe. You’ve never said anything about how you feel about the organization itself.”

“What are you smoking?” Sirius asked with an incredulous laugh. “I want my brother safe because he’s in that hellhole. What other reason –”

“Then tell us that!” Remus shouted, finally getting Sirius to stop talking. “You keep everything so close to your chest, you don’t seem to want to interact with any of us, and you don’t tell us anything but the bare minimum. How are we supposed to get anything done if we can’t trust you?”

“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? I swear, you’re one of the most guarded people I’ve ever met!”

“Well, you don’t really need to get to know me, do you?” Remus fired back. Sirius froze. “You’re here to take the Snakes down. That’s it. When all this is done, it’s not like you’re going to stay. You don’t have to trust me as a friend, but trust me as an agent.”

“That’s it, huh?” Sirius asked, voice dangerously blank.

“That’s it.”

“Fine.” He said gruffly, slamming the laptop closed and grabbing his jacket from the back of a nearby chair. “I’m headed out. Don’t wait up.”

Remus sighed, staring down at his mug and swirling the now-cold contents. Even though they’d gotten along surprisingly well the past couple of days, they weren’t friends. And they didn’t need to be friends. This was business. They were working together to get a job done. That was all. 

Remus knew that the two of them getting along so well was like an already-lit fuse - it was bound to blow up in their faces sooner rather than later. 

***

Finn walked into the safe room, whistling lowly as he looked around. He’d never been in here before – he hadn’t had a reason to. There were safes of all different types and sizes littered around the room. On tables, on the floor, embedded in the walls. He wondered how many safes there were total, and how long it had taken to collect them all.

Leo was seated criss-cross-applesauce in front of one, pressing a stethoscope against the door of a safe and rotating the dial slowly. Finn smiled a little at the sight. This made more sense, seeing it in action. The constant fidgeting was replaced with stillness, the only movement being those of deft fingers against the dial. All that motion and pent-up energy were now focused solely on the safe. 

He walked up to Leo, completely unnoticed, and tapped on his shoulder. Leo jumped a foot into the air, yanking the stethoscope out of his ears and whirling around to look at Finn. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“Sorry, Nut.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Coming to see you, obviously.” Finn said with a wink. “Tremblay and I were wondering if you wanted to get dinner with us. You know,” Finn made a weird motion with his hand and then cringed, moving his hand behind his back and grabbing it with his other hand to keep from performing any more weird, random movements. “Get to know the team and all that.”

Leo’s smile lit up the room. “I’d love to! Y’all headed out right now?”

Y’all.

Wow, his genteel southern-boy routine could really take him places in this profession. With that combined with his looks, no one would ever think he could possibly be guilty of anything.

“Probably. It’s almost seven.”

Leo blinked, confused. “Is it?” At Finn’s nod, he uncrossed his legs and stretched, his back popping in the process. “Guess we should get going then, huh?”

“Yeah.” Finn held out a hand and helped the blond to his feet. He really was just a giant. How did he find clothes that fit him? Finn glanced down at Leo’s shirtsleeves and - sure enough - they were an inch or two above his wrists. He realized he was sort of staring at this guy’s wrists, of all things, and his eyes shot back up to meet kind, albeit confused, blue eyes. “We were thinking Sid’s for dinner? You been there before?” When Leo shook his head, he groaned. “You’re missing out, Nut. We’re fixing that right now. Come on.”

He led Leo back down the hall to the bullpen, where Logan was still pouring over files. How he ever expected to get through the huge pile of files on his desk, Finn had no idea. “Look alive, Tremblay. We’re getting pizza.”

Logan instantly looked up with a hopeful smile. “Sid’s?”

“Where else?” Finn laughed as Logan shot out of his seat and grabbed his coat. He’d never seen the other agent move so fast. “Hungry?”

Logan turned to look at him, his arm getting stuck in the sleeve of his coat. He grumbled under his breath in a language that definitely wasn’t English and shoved his arm into his sleeve. “I’m going to eat an entire pizza and you can’t stop me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They stepped out of the building together, taking a right and heading down the street. It wasn’t actually that cold outside, for a Gryffindor winter – only thirty-five degrees or so. But Nut still shoved his hands into his pockets and nuzzled his nose into his coat. Finn couldn’t hold back the smile at the sight, noticing red-tipped ears and a slight shiver.

“Cold, Nut?” Logan asked, also noticing the blond’s hunched shoulders.

He looked at his new partners, then buried his nose again. “Don’t judge me. New Orleans winters aren’t nearly this bad.”

“New Orleans, huh?” Logan questioned, although Finn knew he was already aware of Leo’s hometown. It was in his file, after all. “I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Ooh, yes!” Finn agreed, leading them around a corner. “The home of Mardis Gras.”

Leo shrugged. “If we’re being technical Mobile, Alabama had the first Mardis Gras celebration in the States. We just do it better. There’s a ton of people, though. If you really want to see the city, come at a better time in the year.” He sent the other two boys a smile. “Maybe summer, so you can experience real southern heat. And humidity.”

“No thanks.” They said in unison, making Leo laugh. The conversation trailed off as they waited for the sign at a crosswalk.

“Where are the two of you from?” Leo finally asked as the red hand morphed into a walking man and the ticking from the crosswalk speakers changed tempo. They stepped into the street with Logan staring down cars that could potentially start moving again and hit them.

Finn thought that was cute.

Maybe Finn was looking at his personality the wrong way. Guarded wasn’t the right adjective for him - protective fit much better.

“New York City.” He rushed to answer Leo’s question as they reached the other side of the street, pointing out the Sid’s sign for Leo.

“Canada.” Logan said a bit gruffly, but you could hear the fondness in his voice.

Leo arched an eyebrow. “Now I understand why you’re so accustomed to the cold.”

Finn held open the door to Sid’s, motioning for the other two to go on ahead. “You’ll get used to it, too, Nut. Logan, can you believe he’s never had Sid’s before?”

Logan went off on a tangent about the perfection that is Sid’s margherita pizza as they were led to their table by a young waiter, who eyed them curiously. They sat down and Finn noticed Logan choosing a seat facing the rest of the restaurant, back to the wall. He looked around at the others in the building, only relaxing when he deemed the coast to be clear.

They quickly looked over the menu, Finn and Logan giving recommendations about their favorite dishes (practically all of them) and began telling lighthearted stories about where they were from and how they grew up while waiting for their food. Leo’s leg was constantly bouncing under the table, but he looked happy and relaxed, which Finn took as a good sign. Finn finally, finally got one of those rare New Year’s party smiles again, as well as a new sunny, dimpled smile from Leo - both of which he really wanted to keep seeing.

He didn’t understand why he was making such a big deal of causing his partners to smile.

Ok, he might’ve had a slight idea. But he didn’t want to think about it too hard. Not yet, at least.

It was only when their pizzas arrived that Logan brought out the big guns.

“So what made you decide to do this for a living?” He asked, sticking his tongue out to catch a stray string of cheese from his pizza slice. Finn tried not to follow the motion too closely, for his own sanity. “For me, it was Dumo. He was our next-door neighbor growing up, after we moved from Canada. I remember he was always away on business trips, but he would  come back looking exhausted and a little beat up. I’d go visit Celeste while he was away – she was always so worried, so I knew something was up. I can’t remember exactly how I found out, but I think I was thirteen or so when I figured out what his job was.” Logan shrugged. “Nothing else really interested me after that.”

“You guys are close, then?” Leo asked, maintaining eye contact with Logan and grabbing the container of red pepper flakes, liberally adding it to his pizza. Finn watched on in horror. Had he previously burned all his taste buds off or something?

Logan smiled. “Yeah. He’s like a dad to me. The whole family’s great. I babysit their kids all the time.”

That was a mental image Finn would be thinking about for the foreseeable future. God, he was screwed, wasn’t he?

He hurried to talk and take his mind off of it. “I got recruited right out of college. I’ve got a good memory and a knack for predicting people and how they’ll react to things. I jumped at the opportunity.” 

He smiled fondly at the memories his mind brought up. “My brother and I grew up on James Bond movies. How cool would it be to do that for my career? So I joined. The obvious next step was becoming a conman, I guess. It’s where I fit best.”

They looked to Leo, who seemed mildly embarrassed. “My Mama caught me pickpocketing on Bourbon Street.”

Logan and Finn took a moment to process that, and then cracked up. Leo waited for them to calm back down, smiling sheepishly before he continued, “She said if I was going to do stuff like that, I should at least be doing some good in the world. So she googled and found Gryffindor and asked some recruiters to meet with me. I came home from school one day to Blizzard and Talker sitting on my couch, eating my mom’s jambalaya.” Logan and Finn laughed again while Leo dragged his crust through some marinara sauce. “Next thing I knew, I was driving a moving truck across the country.”

“Do you miss home?” Logan asked, finally shoving his plate away.

Leo shrugged, looking back and forth between the other two knowingly. “Doesn’t everyone miss home, in one way or another?”

Finn wasn’t even sure what home was to him anymore. Maybe he’d figure it out one of these days. He glanced over at his new partners. Logan also looked pensive, apparently grappling with Leo’s words as well. 

Leo seemed completely unfazed, his leg bouncing again. “Does anyone want dessert?”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Tanana.”

This was super fun to write this morning. A little bit funny, and I always enjoy hurting Adam a little, accept in a fun way this time no angst.

Hope you guys like it :)

Just a little bit closer.

The small creature looks on innocently munching on a crop of moss. It has four large eyes, two on either side of it’s head, six legs and is about the size of a small to medium-sized dog. It has really long ears, and if it stays still long enough, it’s going to be my dinner.

I scoot closer over the rock arm raised to the low ready, the spear clutched tight in my right hand.

The creature lifts its head.

Shit, it must have heard me. In my panic, I make a decision out of haste and throw the spear. It goes wild and clatters across the stone. The Drev rabbit takes off, and I am left standing stupidly in the middle of the open field weaponless and looking like a jackass.

“Tsa din dasdarish darat?”

I nearly leap out of my skin, turning around to find Hijan standing a few meters behind me near a coiltree.

“Shit, hijan, do you really have to sneak up on me like that.” 

The old drev looks at me in amusement. I Know she doesn't understand most of what I am saying, but somehow I  think she still gets it.

“Zha deengan.” I say, one of the first phrases I learned how to use. Being able to say I’m hungry is very important in any foreign language.

She tilts her old wizened head at me, “tsa tin danehanish ee dengish?” You were going to kill and eat that?

I shrugged, “Yid zha deengan.”

She crosses her arms, a habit she’s picked up from me, “ene tsa deengan datadish zha dadee sa deeng datahaik.” IF you were hungry I would have given you food.

I sigh, she wouldn’t get it, but still she walks over and hands me a miss twist. I call them that because of their distinct shape, kind of purple and in a strange sort of spiral. When you dry them out they are crunchy like chips though not particularly salty.

I munch absently on the weird plant? Fungus? And she absently plays with my hair. I try to shrug her off, but she’s a lot like my mother in the way that she won't let me be. I am about 100% sure she thinks I am one of her Drevlings. Which has caused a bunch of interesting changes in my life as of recently, not one of which was her decision that I wasn’t colorful enough.

Apparently Drev see humans a lot differently than we do. They can see the way the UV light interacts with our skin. She describes thousands of little spots which turn into swirling stripes. When I asked her to describe the color she said it was similar to turquoise or blue, though I obviously can’t imagine it.

Makes me jealous as hell though.

However, she said my “Carapace” wasn’t colorful enough. When I asked her what she was on about she clearly meant my hair and my nails, which are made up of similar stuff to the Drev carapace.

Long story short, I now have green hair and nails.

Yeah yeah, laugh all you want, but whatever the hell she put in my hair is not coming out. And when I say green, I am not talking like a nice moss green or forest green. I am talking like the color you paint your new Lamborghini kind of electric green.

Not to say that I haven't had my nails painted before, but never this color, and never in tandem with bright flaming green hair. Don’t know why everyone associates me with the color green. I would say it was only my second or third favorite color. Either way, I look super weird as of late, green hair green nails, no shirt, no shoes, and a slowly expanding five-o-clock shadow.

You know I am not a big fan of beards, mostly not a big fan of them on me, but I forgot to bring a razor, so in that department I am kind of fucked.

I mildly wonder if she is going to make me dye my beard green when it finally grows in.

She makes me grab my spear, grabs me by the hand and drags me back towards the village. She doesn’t let go of my hand. I don’t try to fight her, she is stupidly strong, and despite being a grown ass adult, I am apparently her child now.

The other drev find her adopting me very, very funny, but at least now that she has they don’t call me dazhit anymore. The last time someone called me a bitch in front of her, she kicked the crap out of them. I thought it was pretty funny personally. They danced around the circle like a loon expecting her to be weak in her old age, and she just stood there then jabbed them in the throat with the butt-end of her spear when they weren’t expecting it.

I laughed so hard I cried.

Ever since, they have treated me with a little more respect. 

We make it to the village, and with one hand she pushes me off towards the training grounds as if to say, “Go join the other kids.”

I sigh and roll my eyes but go.

The last time I tried to skip out she almost had my hide.

I go at her bidding meeting up with the others who are around my height. Hijan watches sometimes, and she has made it very clear that the kids deserve to get the shit beaten out of them. I don’t like it much, but these kids don’t seem bothered when you knock them around. In fact, most of them like it.

I think our trainer is a bit mad that I can actually fight.

I smile to myself 

Now that I do fight, I am at the top of the class.

The kids think I cheat, difference is I have different training than they do, and a lot more experience in combat despite what the Drev seem to think.

“Tanana! Naktan ts adon.” Tanana, my nickname, or my drev name I guess means alien. Hijan doesn’t like the name much, so she calls me tsata which means gift. Personally I am pretty flattered she thinks that about me.

I walk into the circle at our leader's orders and Dark ‘the other kid’ steps into the circle across from me. He’s an ugly little shit, and I’m not just saying that. He’s a dick to me on most occasions. When our teacher isn’t looking sometimes I make fun of his coloring, that usually shuts him up. I should probably feel bad for making fun of a kid, but I really don’t. He's a dick and everyone knows it.

Problem is now he has a bit of a vendetta against me, and is pretty hell-bent on putting his spear through my throat.

Good thing we only fight in hand-to-hand combat these days.

“Aleeshazh!” 

The kid does not wait till the end of go before he is charging at me hands wide Some of these kids are under the impression that guarding your center is like…. Dishonorable or something. They would be wrong because even Drev now it’s stupid to come in arms wide open. However, at this point I’ll take what I can get.

I dodge past two sets of arms and come in sharply towards hims middle. He has reach on me, so I go in close and brutally aim for what I am hoping is his liver, if Drev have them. My single punch has him staggering back across the circle gasping.

The teacher does not look happy.

I feel kind of smug.

Of course the little brat won’t give up, I’ll give him that, he isn’t a quitter, and charges for me again.

He’s making this too easy, 

I wouldn’t call myself a martial arts master or anything in the slightest, but before he knows what’s happening, he’s on the ground with my legs across his chest. I pin his lower arms with my right leg squeezing his upper arm between both. I have tight hold of his wrist, and just as he begins to squirm, I slowly place upward pressure on his elbow by arching my hips upward.

If I wanted to I could snap the joint.

Damn I love a good arm-bar.

He squirms and squeals for a couple of minutes as I continue to apply pressure until the teacher eventually tells me to knock it off.

I let go and he frowns at me. He doesn’t approve, but there isn’t uch he can do. My move wasn’t against the rules or anything.

He looks at me for a long moment eyes narrowing at my unconcealed expression of pride, and a hint of smugness.

I can see he wants to wipe the look off my face, “zha jasti tsa jej atatchan teeya dzhalakat.”

I grin, “Of course I am too skillful for children. Surprised it took you so long to see that.”

He does the drev equivalent of a frown. I know he can understand most of what I am saying, unlike others, but I think it still annoys him when I speak English.

Tough luck bro, my mouth goes way faster than my brain, its one of my worst qualities. If it didn’t I’d speak Drev More, but for now it was going to take practice.

“Ene tsa ditan atatchan juhkee tsa tehish zheengat s dzhal.”

Well shit. 

His if you are so skillful than you can fight with the adults was not an encouraging statement.

I honestly hadn’t meant that to come out as dickish as it did, but now  I was definitely already regretting my decision to be a smug bitch.

Guess that is what karma does to you.

I see Hijan at a distance, watching as I am dragged over to the next training field. The Drevlings follow at a distance chirping to themselves excited to see me get my ass beat.

We come up over the rise just as one of the training circle is in session. 

Two Drev go at each other with spears so hard sparks are flying. Their feet cut tears in the moss as they push each other across the stone. As we come up one of them is hit in the head so hard they are knocked completely out of the circle.

“Dazhit.” I mutter

Our teacher and their teacher stop to speak at each other. I can see them staring at me pointing and speaking quietly with each other. 

The older class adjusts themselves and looks on in great interest.

I don’t know these guys well, but I am pretty sure I am about to know the butt of their spears pretty well.

I sigh and shoulder my own spear, which…. Is significantly shorter than everyone else’s.

I’m not self-conscious.

“Tanana daeen hajish.”

I walk over as ordered my spear still over one shoulder.

“Tsak nantan tarik.” Your new teacher 

I lower my head, “Tarik”

She seems amused and motions towards the circle, “Tanana ts adon. Zha nin tsa tehish darat zhegingi jastat.” get in the circle, I want to see what you can do.

Oh, great.

I do as told stepping into the circle as she calls one of her students forward. She’s a light colored Drev, the color of cream/orange rose petals. I am pretty sure the Drev would consider her pretty…. Did I mention that she’s at least two feet taller than me?

No

Well she is.

She rams her spear butt into the dirt, and I swallow hard.

The Tarik waves a hand and we begin to circle.

I hold my spear like they taught me, though I am much better at hand-to-hand combat. We test each other for a minute moving forward and back, watching each other’s guard. Of course, she strikes first though.

I dodge out of the way quickly, expecting to come in and wrap her across the back of the knees, but she spends around and blocks me at the last moment. We connect together so hard that my hands go almost immediately numb.

She brings the butt of her spear around, and I am just barely able to duck under it. She comes at me again, and I step back as the spearhead slices past my chest.

My eyes go wide as I stare at my almost evisceration.

I barely look up in time to block her fro the side.

The hit makes my bones hurt.

I flick my spear up trying to catch her in the face, but she knocks me away with impunity.

She has me backed against the edge of the circle.

She doesn’t expect me to make it out. Too bad I have seen way more action movies than she has. As she cuts over me, I slide under the cu on my knees skidding over the rock and past her into the center of the circle. 

She turns to find me and barley blocks my strike.

I’m doing pretty good.

This isn’t so bad.

That’s when the kid gloves come off, and she strikes me so hard and fast I can barely raise my spear to block her. A vicious second later she comes in with the killing blow, or the crippling one.

Did you know you can knock someone out by hitting them hard enough in the liver?

Yeah I didn’t know that either, apparently the body sense major trauma and is just like nah fam I am not about that life. The vagus nerve gets activated too.

So there I am lying on the moss and the dirt curled up in a ball trying not to vomit or pass out.

I can hear that little gremlin Naktan laughing in the background.

God I hate him.

And I am in SOOO much pain. I am pretty sure my liver has been ruptured pretty sure I am going to die right here on the face of the planet.

I groan, “Hijan… help…. hijan .”

Yeah yeah practically crying for my mother like a wuss. I know no need to point it out 

But guys, I am dying. Or at least I am pretty sure I am.

Luckily for me she shows up and eventually the others leave. I can feel her running a hand through my hair, which would be nice if I wasn’t pretty sure I was dying 

Turns out though, I wasn’t dying, I am just pathetic 

[anubislover]

Not So Easily Replaced

(Ikkaku is pissed at how idiotic her crew has been while on Amazon Lily, so she does what she's always done - vents about it to Law to let off some steam. Unfortunately, when an argument breaks out between them, she's left to wonder if she's really appreciated by her nakama)

“Ugh!” Ikkaku growled, stomping into Law’s office with his second afternoon coffee and a selection of onigiri on a tray. Normally lunch delivery wasn’t her job, but since all the men had been “too busy” fawning over the women of Amazon Lily outside, the menial task had fallen to her; otherwise their workaholic captain wouldn’t eat. “I swear, Boss, if we don’t set sail soon, I’m going to strangle every guy on board!”

“Hmmm,” Law grunted absently as he poured over his notes. Ikkaku didn’t hold his monosyllabic response against him—he’d spent the past few days fixing up that Straw Hat kid and the Fishman. On top of that, the extensive treatments had basically depleted their medical supplies, Straw Hat’s freak-out upon waking up had wrecked more than half the operatory, and the Kuja had been pretty stingy with letting them replenish their food and water from the island, so she was sure he had plenty on his mind. The dark bags under his eyes attested to that.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to vent, though. Honestly, if she didn’t, she’d probably snap and end up going on a killing spree or something. Only Bepo and Law would be spared; the Mink had no interest in human women and thus hadn’t been an obnoxious Neanderthal, and Law had been too focused on keeping his patients and crew alive to drool over Boa Hancock.

Hell, when her captain was like this, Ikkaku could literally say anything and he wouldn’t even register it. It took a lot to snap Law out of his thoughts, and he’d never really seemed to mind when she ranted at him to let off steam. Mainly because once she was done, she was usually calm enough to take care of the situation herself, leaving Law in peace and with a non-murdered crew. A happy engineer made for a happy submarine, after all.

Setting the coffee and onigiri down onto the desk, Ikkaku continued, “They act like they’ve never seen a hot chick in their lives. I mean, what am I, chopped liver? They should be thanking the gods that they get to look at my gorgeous face every damn day!” The statement was accompanied by a dramatic toss of her curly hair. When Ikkaku felt strongly about something, she tended to gesticulate a lot, and this was no exception.

“Uh huh.”

She leaned against the edge of Law’s desk, hands waving about as she ranted. “Not that I want them to start lusting after me, but it hurts a girl’s pride, ya know? They could at least acknowledge what a hot piece of ass I am instead of acting like I’m some ugly hag.” She clenched her fist as she recalled how, just that morning, Shachi and Clione had basically given a lecture to the whole crew over breakfast about the superior physique the Kuja displayed compared to the average woman. There had been charts and everything, and to her dismay the silhouette for the “average” woman looked suspiciously like her.

“And that’s not the end of it!” she rambled on, smacking her hand against the desk for emphasis. “When I’m not ignored or insulted, they try to convince me to go out into the jungle to talk to the Kuja for them! I mean, I’m probably the one least likely to be killed outright, but it’s not guaranteed! They might fill me with arrows just for being affiliated with men! Are they really willing to risk my life like that?”

Her question didn’t get an answer—not because Law wasn’t paying attention, but because at that moment, her emotive gesticulating accidentally smacked her wrist into his coffee mug, knocking it over.

“Mother fucker!” Law shouted, scalding coffee spilling all over his crotch and papers.

“Oh my god, Law, I’m so sorry—”

“Will you shut up?!” he snapped, grabbing his nearby lab coat to frantically soak up the scalding coffee that had spilled across his crotch. “Don’t just stand there—get some towels!”

Nodding mutely, she ran to the en-suite bathroom and snatched up every towel she could find in the cupboard. “Here,” she said, trying to hand them to him so he could clean himself up.

“My desk, damn it! Save my notes!”

Immediately she swept the pile furthest from the spill to the floor and began patting down the desk, but she knew it was already too late; the coffee had completely soaked through several of the papers that had been strewn across the stainless steel surface.

“Law, really, I’m so sorry!” she apologized hoarsely, flinching as he turned the full force of his sleep-deprived glare upon her.

“Maybe if you’d fucking been watching what you were doing instead of ranting on and on, none of this would have happened!” he shouted, well and truly pissed. Not that she blamed him—a week’s worth of important medical and inventory notes was now a brown, sopping mess. On top of that, first-degree crotch burns would sour anyone’s mood, especially when they were only running on an average of three hours of sleep.

“It’ll be ok,” she assured, assessing the damage. To an average person, the mess was a disaster, but while the charts and notes that had been in the immediate spill zone were soaked through and ruined, many of the others could be salvaged thanks to Law’s powers. “Just Room the coffee out of the papers—”

“Do you have any idea how much time and effort you just flushed down the toilet?” he snapped, even as the familiar blue bubble filled the office. Drops of coffee were pulled from the sheets of paper like magic, but to Ikkaku’s dismay, much of the ink left behind was still smudged beyond recognition. “You’re lucky that wasn’t Mugiwara-ya’s medical file you just destroyed!”

“Law, really, I’m sorry,” she said, trying to calm him down. Her usually chill captain was far more volatile when stressed and sleep-deprived. “It was a stupid accident on my part. I’ll help you rewrite all of this.”

“Hell no,” he growled, gold eyes narrowing furiously, the tendons in his thin neck tightening as he ground his teeth together. “The last thing I need is you going on another stupid rant and ruining my notes again. Get the fuck out—I’ve got more important things to do than listen to you bitch and moan about how the guys aren’t paying attention to you.”

“Tha—that’s not what I’m angry about at all!” she snapped.

“Then what is your fucking problem?!”

“My problem is that the guys were being jackasses and I’m not appreciated around here!”

“Well if you don’t like it, leave!”

Ikkaku’s back stiffened, each syllable cutting into her heart like Law’s sharpest scalpel. Those words…it was the exact same thing her old boss would say whenever she complained about her asshole coworkers’ creepy leers or “accidental” groping. The greasy old mechanic was a sexist pig, but still the only one in that shit port that had been willing to take her on as an apprentice. It had always been an unspoken threat—if she left, no one else would hire her, so she could kiss her dreams of becoming a world-class engineer good-bye.

Trafalgar Law had changed that with his offer to join the Heart Pirates.

And now he was telling her to leave, too. To give up her dream, her nakama, and her home because she wasn’t willing to put up with a little sexism.

As if he could replace her in a heartbeat.

The thought hurt more than expected. She’d worked her ass off aboard the Polar Tang. For five years she’d toiled in the heart of the engine room, maintaining every little piece. She kept the gears turning, the motors humming, and the propellers running. Just from sound and the slightest vibrations through the ship, she knew exactly what was wrong with the engine at any given time.

Ikkaku had never asked for praise or recognition for her hard work—it was just her job. But she was as knowledgeable about the mechanisms of the submarine as Law was of the human body. She had always assumed he’d quietly acknowledged this fact and respected her for it.

Clearly, she’d been wrong.

She nearly screamed all this at him, but before she could open her mouth, the blue light of Law’s Room encased her, and in a blink, she was out in the hall, the cabin door slamming shut in her face.

Knowing better than to try and force her way back into his quarters, Ikkaku instead stormed down the steel hallway, fists clenched and muttering furiously to herself. Maybe she would leave. March right up to Boa Hancock and ask to join the Kuja. That would show them! She didn’t need Law, or the Tang, or men at all! She’d get along just fine without those jerks! Sure, Amazon Lily didn’t have any of the high-tech machinery she was used to, and working for a shichibukai wasn’t exactly something she was thrilled about, but at least they’d appreciate her, right? She had other skills—she was a hell of a tattoo artist, and was a damn fine shot, and could kickbox, and…

Her pace slowed as her heart forced her brain to accept the truth—she didn’t want to leave. She’d go crazy without machines and engines to work on. And sure, she was no slouch in a fight, but the Kuja were warrior women trained from birth. Ikkaku would look like a total weakling next to them.

And no matter how much the crew pissed her off, she wouldn’t trade her nakama for anything. Sure, they could be thoughtless jerks sometimes, but they could also be really sweet. Bepo may not have been much for girl talk, but he was always willing to lend an ear if she needed companionship. Her fellow engineers, Malamute and Skua, were dependable and shared her love of machines. Shachi was always down to help her pull a prank, and when he wasn’t drooling over the Kuja, Penguin could be counted on to talk her through her problems.

As for Law…by this point, he was more like her big brother than her actual brothers had been. They shared a similar devious sense of humor, was discreet about any feminine issues she might have that, as the ship’s doctor, he was forced to deal with, and he’d even played wingman for her a few times at the taverns they’d stopped in.

Had she just ruined all of that? Was Law just angry, or had this been coming for a long time? Law had threatened to fire her plenty of times in the past, usually in response to her back sassing him, but he’d never been serious about it. This time had been different—he’d been legitimately pissed at her. Maybe those teasing threats hadn’t been jokes, but subtle warnings, and her ruining all those papers had simply been the straw to break the camel’s back?

Ikkaku was deep in thought, mentally going over every encounter she’d had with Law with a fine-toothed comb, searching for any clue whether he seriously thought she should leave, when she quite literally bumped into Bepo.

The Mink took in her flushed, angry expression and asked, “Are you ok, Ikkaku?”

Oddly enough, it was that simple, gentle question that shattered her composure like a bullet through a bone, and without even thinking she buried her face in his soft fur and just broke down crying. “He told me to leave, Bepo,” she sobbed, scared and hurt and frustrated. For all the grief her crewmates had given her and all the dangerous positions being a pirate had put her in, Ikkaku loved being a Heart. Where would she go? She’d never find another ship like the Polar Tang. Another crew like the Heart Pirates. Another captain like Trafalgar Law.

Bepo, though shocked that the normally fiery and confident engineer was using his fur as a tissue, didn’t say anything—he just carefully rubbed her back and hoped that letting her treat him like a massive teddy bear would calm her down enough to explain what had happened.

XXX

“Ok, real talk—has anyone noticed anything…different about Ikkaku lately?” Penguin asked as he sat down to lunch.

“You’d have to actually see her to notice something,” Shachi replied, brow furrowing. He glanced over at Uni, raising an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “You been giving her stealth lessons or something?”

Uni frowned behind his bandana. “No, but she’s definitely avoiding us. It’s been a week since we left Amazon Lily, and I can count the number of times I’ve seen her on one hand.”

“Same,” Ermine said as they finished molding Law’s onigiri into the perfect triangles the captain liked. “I actually thought we left her behind for a minute—nearly asked Jean Bart to turn the ship around to get her.”

Malamute rubbed his chin, mouth twisting in concern. “Nah, she’s here, but she’s mad at us about something—barely leaves the engine room most days, and she basically refuses to talk to me and Skua.”

His fellow engineer nodded. “We thought it might just be her time of the month, but that ended over a week ago according to the calendar.”

“You guys keep track of her menstrual cycles?” Clione asked, weirded out. The rest of the crew wore similar expressions of disbelief and disapproval.

“Out of self-preservation!” Skua shouted defensively. “We’re in a hot, confined space where she has easy access to heavy tools—of course we wanna know when we should have emergency placating chocolate on-hand!”

“We tried the chocolate anyway, though,” Malamute added. “She just…waved it away and kept working.”

The cook’s frown deepened at that bit of information. “Ikkaku never turns down chocolate,” Ermine said, “and she hasn’t shown up to lunch, dinner, or breakfast all week.”

“She’s been eating, though, right?” Penguin asked, concerned. He didn’t care how mad she was; it was no excuse to skip out on meals. It was bad enough Law was an insomniac that got most of his nutrients through coffee and onigiri. It would be a cold day in hell before he would stand for an anorexic engineer.

A large, white paw shyly raised in the air as Bepo interjected, “I’ve been bringing her meals so she doesn’t have to come by the galley. She’s…wanted some time to herself.” He dropped his head gloomily. “Sorry.”

“But she’s talked to you?”

“Ummm, a little bit,” he muttered, twiddling his claws. After she’d stopped crying, Ikkaku had spilled her guts about everything—her issues with the crew, her argument with Law, and why his words had affected her so badly. Though sympathetic, Bepo was certain Law hadn’t meant his thoughtless words—underneath his casual persona, he cared deeply about his crew and would never let any of them go for such a silly reason.

At first, Bepo’d tried to get her to go back and talk to the captain, but she’d shot that down quickly—with the mood Law had been in, it would do nothing but start another argument. The Mink had hoped that, now that they were sailing away from Amazon Lily and Law wouldn’t have to worry about Straw Hat’s injuries anymore, they’d both cool down and the whole thing would blow over.

Unfortunately, the past week had proven otherwise. Ikkaku had taken to hiding deep in the bowels of the ship, and Law had been so focused on redoing all those notes and charts that he hadn’t left his quarters in days. Bepo wasn’t a Mink who liked confrontation, and he certainly didn’t want to choose sides between his oldest friend and his favorite engineer, so he’d relegated himself to supplying food to both parties, hoping one of them would finally get tired of the oppressive silence and breach the topic.

As the crew frantically gathered around him, hoping to finally have an answer to the Mystery of the Missing Engineer, Bepo began to wonder if he should have just locked both humans in an empty room and made them talk it out.

Not that such a plan would have been very effective with Law’s powers, but it was better than nothing.

“Talk, Bepo,” Shachi growled, pulling a flashlight out of his pocket and shining it directly into the bear’s black eyes like he was in an interrogation room. “What’s up with Ikkaku?”

“Why’s she hiding from us?” Clione interjected.

“Why are you the only one she’s talking to?” added Jude.

“Is she pregnant and going through weird mood swings or something?” Skua asked loudly.

Bepo blanched at that last one. “No, she…she’s just kind of upset about…how you all acted on Amazon Lily.”

Exasperated, Ermine rolled their eyes. “What, was she jealous about all the attention we gave Hancock’s crew?”

“No, but…you guys were really insensitive. Like, that presentation—”

“It was a joke!” Shachi defended, though a guilty blush rose to his cheeks.

“And asking her to venture into the jungle to talk to the women for you—”

“Hey, she was the only one who they wouldn’t kill on-sight!” Jude sulked.

“And then she had to bring Law his lunch because you were all too busy staring at the Kuja.”

“Wow. Having to do that one menial task must have been such an inconvenience,” Malamute scoffed.

At the back of the grumbling crowd, Jean Bart awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. He hadn’t been on the crew long, so he didn’t really think it was his place to get involved, but he had the feeling Ikkaku had taken whatever had been said and done a little more personally than they thought. “Look, regardless of how we feel, we should all apologize to her. I mean, I don’t know her great, but does she usually give the silent treatment for this long?”

“Well, no,” Clione stated, looking a bit nervous. “Typically, she yells at us and smacks us around a bit, or maybe pulls some embarrassing prank, but she’s never quiet.”

“So, what’s this mean?”

“It means this is serious.” Penguin frowned at Bepo, who was looking around anxiously as if hoping to escape. “Ok, spill. You’re the only one she’s talked to, and you clearly have a better idea of what’s going on than we do. What’s Ikkaku really upset about?”

The Mink hung his head sorrowfully. “Sorry.”

“Damn it, don’t apologize! Just tell us!”

“It’s just…”

“Are you guys bullying Bepo again?” came a voice from the doorway. The crew turned to find Law strolling into the galley, looking thinner and more exhausted than usual, but he was at least out of his room and among the living.

Still shining his flashlight in Bepo’s face, Shachi yelled, “Captain! You gotta help us—Ikkaku’s basically been AWOL all week and won’t talk to anyone, and Bepo won’t tell us why!”

Law plopped into his chair and grabbed an onigiri, scoffing as he took a large bite. “She bitched at me for a while about how you all were being sexist pigs. Figured she would have gotten over it by now.”

“She complained to you about it?” Jean Bart asked, tilting his head.

“Yeah, and then she managed to spill hot coffee on my crotch and ruin the inventory list for the infirmary that I’d spent hours compiling.”

The crew unanimously gave a sympathy wince.

Taking another large bite of his lunch, Law continued, “We’ll be making port in a few days—she’ll come to her senses once she’s spent some time off the ship.”

“You…you want her to leave the ship?” Bepo asked, voice raising an octave in disbelief.

“Time apart will do us some good,” he replied with a shrug, activating his Room for a moment to remove the flashlight from Shachi’s hand.

“How…how much time?”

“Well, we’re not making port any longer than necessary. If she hasn’t gotten her shit together by then, that’s her problem.”

Bepo’s heart dropped into his stomach. What did Law mean “get her shit together”? Was he talking about packing her things? Was he really kicking her out over a silly argument over spilled coffee and ruined paperwork?

“Law!” the Mink shouted, jerking to his feet so quickly his knees knocked the table. “Please reconsider!”

Dark blue eyebrows rose at the normally soft-spoken navigator’s outburst. “There’s nothing to reconsider. Ikkaku’s a big girl—I agree that the sexism she faced was unacceptable, but she’s never had a problem handling that kind of shit herself.” His face twisted into a scowl. “And considering how I only just finished redoing all the work she destroyed, my tolerance for temper tantrums is at an all-time low.”

“She offered to help you rewrite it!” Bepo argued, slapping his paws down on the table. “Is some soggy paperwork worth losing your best engineer over?” Pausing, he glanced at Malamute and Skua. “Uh, no offense. Sorry.”

“None taken,” the duo said in unison, though their jaws dropped a second later as they registered the Mink’s words. “Wait, what?!”

“What do you mean ‘losing’ Ikkaku?” Penguin snapped, grabbing him by the orange collar of his boiler suit.

Shachi grabbed the flashlight again and climbed onto the table to shine it into Bepo’s face. “Talk, bear! Is Ikkaku quitting or something?”

“Because we won’t let her!” several of the crew shouted.

“Everybody calm down!” Law snapped, his deep voice silencing the rambunctious crew. “You all acted like idiots around the Kuja—I don’t blame her for being annoyed at you. But if your petty acts of sexism could drive her off that easily, she wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes at her old job. You’re blowing everything out of proportion.”

“You’re the one who told her to leave over a spilled cup of coffee!” Bepo angrily stated, only to immediately shrink back when he realized just who he’d yelled at. “Sorry.”

“Whoa, wait, Law, did you fire her?” Penguin asked, genuinely horrified as he numbly released Bepo’s collar. Of all the things that could have been bothering Ikkaku, that hadn’t even made his list. Sure, she could be tempestuous, but that had never bothered Law before—on the contrary, Penguin had always assumed his old friend liked trading snarky barbs with.

“I didn’t—why would I—I was just pissed because she spilled hot coffee all over crotch!” Law defended, even as he inwardly cringed at the way his entire crew had turned to glare at him judgmentally. Shachi had even turned the flashlight’s intense beam on him.

“But was that worth actually firing her over?”

“I didn’t fire her! Yeah, we argued, but I never said she was fired. At most, I told her to get the fuck out of my office.”

“That’s not all you said,” Bepo mumbled, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Flinty gold eyes narrowed at the sulking Mink. It was extremely out of character for Bepo to snap at or sass anyone—least of all Law. His brow furrowed as he thought back to his fight with Ikkaku—the memory was a bit hazy due to the lack of sleep he’d gotten. “Then what exactly did I say to her? What could have possibly been so bad that it could make her think I’m firing her?”

“You said…she told me…” Bepo took a deep breath. He hated scolding his captain, but he hated the idea of Ikkaku leaving even more, especially if this really was just a big misunderstanding. “You said to her ‘if you don’t like it, leave’.”

A sour taste worse than umeboshi filled his mouth as Law realized the full implications of what he’d said and done. He clearly remembered her old boss, a scowling, greasy man who’d shouted at her when she’d argued that she deserved to be respected as the talented engineer she was and not just seen as eye-candy.

If you don’t like it, leave, he’d sneered through crooked teeth as the other mechanics sniggered. Good luck finding anyone else willing to hire an inexperienced chick, though. Law could distinctly remember the hot surge of outrage he’d felt on the woman’s behalf; in less than ten minutes, she’d managed to identify what was wrong with the Tang’s engine and exactly how to fix it. Yet because she was the sole female in the shop—because she was a little bit different—she was overlooked and scorned, with her boss refusing to check for himself.

It had reminded Law a little too much of how quickly he’d been rejected from every hospital Cora-san had taken him to, the so-called “expert” doctors refusing to believe that Amber Lead was not contagious, or even examine the white patches across his skin.

And maybe—just maybe—the way her curly hair fanned out around her shoulders and down her back reminded him just a tiny bit of a certain black, feathered jacket.

Law hadn’t even bothered to consider whether or not the woman might want to become a pirate before he’d activated his Room and cut her boss to pieces. He’d then turned to Ikkaku, whose dark eyes had been wide with shock but not fear, and told her that if she could fix his engine as easily as she claimed, she was welcome to join his crew.

Now he stood to lose her due to his own sleep-deprived stupidity.

“…fuck.”

XXX

Down in the engine room, Ikkaku lay on her back underneath the ship’s engine, tightening the bolts that secured the freshly-cleaned cooling pipes. Since her argument with Law she’d basically spent every waking hour disassembling, repairing, and reassembling every piece she could. She trusted Skua and Malamute to take good care of the sub after she was gone, but the Polar Tang deserved nothing less than a thorough inspection and tune-up as thanks for carrying her so far.

She’d give the crew their own goodbye once they reached port. She hoped they were still too blinded by the hearts in their eyes to notice she’d been avoiding them. It wasn’t out of anger anymore; instead, she was scared she’d start blubbering. Admitting that Law had decided to toss her out on her ass was humiliating and heartbreaking, and she honestly wasn’t sure how the others would react. They could just as easily stage a mutiny as shrug it off as her overreacting.

Perhaps she was freaking out over nothing—Law hadn’t even left his room since their fight. Surely if he really wanted her gone, he could have marooned her back on Amazon Lily. Then again, he was a sadistic bastard; luring her into a false sense of security, then dumping her and her belongings onto the next port they landed on wouldn’t be entirely out of character. Or maybe her years of service had earned her enough mercy that he was willing to wait until they were at an island where Ikkaku could potentially find work instead of stranding her in the Calm Belt.

Whatever it was, she had every intention of confronting him about it after dinner. If this was all just a big misunderstanding, she planned to give him a good smack upside the head. If she was really fired, she wanted at least enough time to pack her things and say her proper goodbyes.

Until then, all she could do was stay busy to pass the time and hope that the knot of anxiety that twisted in her stomach would loosen up by the time she talked to him.

She didn’t want to leave, but if Law decided she was really that expendable, there wasn’t much she could do but try to hold onto at least a shred of dignity.

Reaching over to her tool kit, Ikkaku fished out her screwdriver, silently lamenting over the sad state of her tools. She’d planned on picking up some new ones back on Sabaody, but with all the chaos that had taken place, she’d missed her chance, and she wasn’t sure she could justify the cost now that her job was in jeopardy.

The sharp click clack of heeled boots against the metal floor startled her out of her thoughts. Glancing towards the sound, she immediately knew from the spotted jeans that filled her vision that, for better or for worse, the mystery of her termination was about to be solved.

She watched as Law turned around, and she knew from the barely-audible creek of the pipes that he had chosen to lean against them. Ikkaku had yelled at him for doing that more than a few times in the past, but this time she kept her mouth shut. Most likely he’d done it to provoke such a reaction out of her, but why? To break the viscous tension that filled the room by establishing a sense of normalcy, or so he’d have another cause to fire her?

Whatever his reason, Ikkaku refused to be the first to speak. Whether he wanted to kick her out or extend the olive branch, he’d have to make the first move.

After a few minutes of silence where Law merely stood there and Ikkaku continued to tighten the bolts, he finally sighed. “Penguin tells me that you haven’t been eating dinner with the crew,” Law’s low, nonchalant voice rumbled through the pipes.

If Penguin had to tell you, that says that you haven’t been eating with them, either, she thought sourly, though opted to stay quiet. She didn’t want to turn this into an argument if he intended to apologize. And if he planned to fire her…well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of riling her up.

Noting her unusual silence, he continued, “I understand their behavior has been…upsetting as of late. They were acting like idiots, but that’s no reason to isolate yourself.”

“Haven’t been isolating myself,” she lied, fiddling with a bolt she’d tightened ten minutes ago. “I’ve just had work to do. The Tang needed some maintenance, so I thought I’d get it done now that we weren’t being chased by Marines.”

“Sure. And the fact that Bepo’s been bringing you your meals this past week?”

“Going to the galley would have wasted time. Eating in here was more efficient, and Bepo offered.”

“Why didn’t you ask Skua and Malamute to help?”

“You doubtin’ my abilities as an engineer, Trafalgar?” she asked in a clipped tone, growing sick of tiptoeing around the point. “Whether you like it or not, I know how this ship works better than anyone. If you don’t trust me, tell them to get their asses in here and do it instead!”

There was a deep sigh from above her, and Ikkaku could easily picture the wrinkle between his eyebrows that formed when he was tired and frustrated. “Bepo told me you’re thinking of leaving.”

Ah. The moment of truth. Heart in her throat, she forced her herself to take a deep breath, ready for whatever judgement he saw fit to pass. “You’re the one who said I should if I didn’t like how I was being treated.”

“Are you?”

“Leaving or enjoying how I’m treated?”

“Leaving.”

“…I don’t want to.”

“Good.” It was subtle, but there was an unspoken “I wouldn’t have let you if you’d tried” in his tone. There was another long moment of silence before he continued, “Engineers as skilled as you are hard to come by—finding a replacement would have been a bitch. Plus, the crew would have been upset; they were practically interrogating poor Bepo about why you were avoiding them.”

“And of course you stepped in and played hero, rescuing the helpless Mink from an angry mob?” she snipped, tightening another screw. It didn’t sound like she was getting fired, so it was a little easier to let her natural sass creep back into her voice.

Law let out a faint tch above her. “I wouldn’t say ‘helpless’ considering how he then yelled at me about allegedly firing you. After that, the mob was on his side.”

A proud grin curled the corner of Ikkaku’s mouth. Who would have thought that Bepo would yell at his best friend for little old her? She’d have to come up with a nice thank you gift for her favorite shipmate. With luck, Law might actually apologize for his behavior if even Bepo was calling him out.

Of course, that might take a while, so it was best to keep busy. Reaching out her hand, Ikkaku felt around blindly for her socket wrench. She jerked slightly in surprise when she felt long fingers wrap around her hand before the tool in question was placed firmly in her palm. She pulled her arm back, only to stare wordlessly at the brand-new wrench that practically gleamed in the light.

Clumsily she slid out from under the pipes, jaw dropping as she found Law crouching beside a new, expensive, top-of-the-line tool kit. “I was saving this for your birthday but given the chance that you wouldn’t be around to receive it…” he trailed off, adjusting his hat so the brim cast a shadow over his face.

The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled, immediately recognizing the gift for the chrome apology that it was. Plus, it was hard to stay mad at Law when he was like this—honestly, it was so dang cute how awkward he was when forced to display actual human emotions like caring and guilt. “You bribing me to stay, Boss?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

She laughed, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him in for a hug. “Then I accept, along with a twenty-percent bonus on my next paycheck.”

He grumbled slightly but didn’t refuse, nor did he pull away from her embrace, even if he stubbornly refused to return it. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t technically said “sorry”. Actions spoke a hell of a lot louder than words with him, anyway, and Law was practically groveling for her to stay.

When she finally let him go, Law stood up and cleared his throat before nonchalantly strolling towards the door. “Well then, since you’re not leaving, unless the engine room is actively on fire and no one but you can put it out, you’re eating with the crew tonight. They’ll formally apologize for their behavior, and they’re all going out of their way to show you how much you’re appreciated. Ermine’s preparing your favorite meal. Clione and Shachi have put together a presentation detailing exactly how stupid they’ve been while Penguin has one extolling your virtues. Malamute and Skua have volunteered to take on your cleaning duties for the next two weeks.”

“What are you going to do?” Ikkaku teased, though he could have said “nothing” and she’d be fine—she knew he’d never make the mistake of discarding her again.

Law stopped at the door and threw his trademark cocky smirk over his shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ll be standing by your side all night to make sure you can’t run off when you realize just how obnoxiously sentimental those idiots can be.”

Ikkaku’s grin fell a bit as she realized he was right—the Hearts were an infamous band of pirates led by a fiendishly dangerous captain, but when it came to their nakama, they could get downright sappy in extreme circumstances. Jude was probably preparing some hippy-dippy song. Cousteau would inevitably name some weird sea creature after her. Seiuchi would probably find a way to scatter confetti all over the galley and she’d be picking it out of her hair for days…

Getting up, she chased after her devious captain. “I don’t suppose there’s still time for me to quit and join the Kuja, is there?”

Gold eyes glinted sadistically at her as Law replied, “Nope. Welcome to Appreciation Hell. Population: you. Don’t try to run, either—I’ll Shambles your ass into the galley if I have to.”

Ikkaku punched his arm in retaliation, though she was careful not to hit him too hard—if she annoyed him too much, he’d go out of his way to rile the guys up even more. God, he’d probably propose they all get tattoos of her face or something just to make her suffer.

“You’re an absolute bastard,” she said, affection creeping into her voice despite her best efforts.

“Yes, but a bastard that appreciates his engineer,” Law replied, and out of the corner of her eye, Ikkaku could have sworn she saw the barest hint of a genuine smile flicker across his face.

Despite the knowledge that she’d be stuck with a crew of idiots and a captain who had the emotional range of a teaspoon and a truly frightening sense of humor, Ikkaku felt happier than she had in weeks as she playfully knocked her shoulder into his. “I guess that’s not so bad, then.”

The End

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Two brains are better than one | Morgan & Alain

Morgan insisted on going to the butcher herself sometimes. The stores of brains at home were plentiful enough, Morgan couldn’t remember a time when there hadn’t been a few specimens in the shed out back. But since accidentally having a taste of what, as Deirdre gently reminded her, she was meant to feast on, she found herself speeding up the time between meals, hoping that if she stuffed herself with enough squirrels and deer and racoons she might forget that people taste like a three course dinner meal at midnight. That angst didn’t even take into account that she was trying to space out her feedings a little more so she wouldn’t be caught with puny, mortal strength with a hunter again. The whole situation was a mess. But, as a reasonable, grown-ass zombie girl who was definitely not resenting the blandness of squirrel brain, she could go to the butcher and top herself off easy. She rocked on her feet in line, her number pinched between her fingers as she waited.

Sometimes she liked to wonder how many of the customers were like her. A woman had just left with a hefty tub of pig’s blood. And the man at the counter now was asking for brains too. Morgan watched him take his number and mosey to where she waited, comfortable as anything, if not a little tired in his bones. Had he been dead for long? Was it a new death weight, or something much older? Morgan smiled at him. “Don’t see  a lot of people asking for brains around these parts,” she said. “You cook like that a lot?”

Alain did not use to have a thing for cooking offals, but as years passed and he became more sensitized to the consequences of the meat industry, but could not bring himself to give up on eating meat, he had decided that he would start using parts who were usually doomed to end up to the trash, and to turn them into savoury dishes. Veal liver was one of his favorites, but sheep brain was a close second, and exactly why he had pushed the butcher’s door today. Fidgeting idly with his fingers, he waited for his turn, not paying too much attention to his surroundings but rather thinking of who had died instead of him. He had managed to convince himself that it was just an elder who was passing by the shop as Regan screamed, but not knowing for sure was far from pleasant.

He picked up the number given to him and moved to the side to wait. He eyed at the woman smiling at him and refrained a frown. Instead he raised an eyebrow, and scoffed in surprise as she started to talk about his order. Well, it was nice to see that he was not the only one who had taken in interest for pieces that most people would have deemed disgusting. “Oh. Ahem,” he cleared his throat. Well if this did not make it obvious that he was not  good at small talk, what would ? “I do, actually, what about you? I’m planning to make Pad thai with it,” he explained, uncrossing his arms and relaxing a bit in his stance. Talking about cooking was a nice way to start a conversation with him for sure.

Morgan was warmed by the man’s awkwardness more than anything else. Maybe if they had a secret sense, like the fae did, it might all be easier. Here there was no instant safety and, heck, for all she knew, there were hunters trolling the parking lot or working in the shop. It was only paranoia if she was wrong, right? She let out a breath, remembering that this was not the time to let her body return to its natural resting state of death, and smiled again. “Pad Thai?” She asked. “That sounds way more appetizing than the casserole I have planned. I’m uh, still kinda new to cooking this way. But you—“ she couldn’t get a sense of him beyond that he mostly wanted to go home, and who could blame him? “You sound almost like a pro at this, yeah?”

“Southern Asian cooking is really interesting,” Alain replied as she mentioned that she had planned to make a casserole with her purchase. It was not a bad idea, but she would get tired of it, eventually. “I’ve done quite a few casserole with those,” you could tell from his tone that he was not exactly thrilled about these anymore. “I would not say I’m a pro, although I did place second in the pie contest,” he scratched at his cheek and shrugged. He had not expected a win, considering his pie was possibly the most simple in the contest but he’d been glad to see that taste mattered more than aspect to the judges. “Anyway, I feel like cooking is about being able to turn something no one likes, into something great that people will want to eat no matter the ingredients.” Calf sweetbread was another one of his favourites, and it made him wonder if brains could be nice in a vol-au-vent. “I think you should try making Vol-au-vent with those. That might work  well,” he assured her, a bit too enthusiastic perhaps, than one should be about brains.

So brain casserole wasn’t a thrilling time for other zombies too, not just her. Morgan smirked at his knowing tone. It was kind of a shame. Nothing was more of a staple from her childhood suburbias like a baked casserole. She should have made more when she was alive. Now that brains were the only worthwhile food, all she could see them as were wasted tubs of mush. “Wait, you won the pie contest?” She asked, a little heartened that at least it was someone who had a hard time tasting. “With what? Don’t tell me a brain pie. Did you at least get a fun prize?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about his philosophy. She liked working with things she knew people would like, especially when she could taste so little of it herself. If she managed to taste anything that wasn’t brains or ‘why yes, my tastebuds can still catch fire,’ it was the kind of ghostly whiff of flavor she was used to getting at the bottom of a seltzer can, which was, more or less, nothing. “Okay, prize winner guy,” she said. “Tell me what a--” she hesitated, certain she was going to butcher the syllables, they were already turning fuzzy in her head. “Vole-a-vent? Is? And I’ll give it a try. Soon, even, with this order.”

“I’m pretty sure a brain pie would have earned me a place in the flop 3,” his shoulders jolted up as he held back his laughter. If Alain could avoid having the whole butcher shop look at him, he would avoid it. “I made a tatin pie. Apples, sugar and butter. I used to have that all the time when I was a kid,” he scratched at the stubble on his cheek and shook his head at her next question. Nope, a karkinoid was not really the kind of prize he wanted to win in a contest, but the certificate was nice. “A goddamn lobster. Not a big fan of seafood, unfortunately,” he gave her a shrug and let his eyes wander toward someone who was picking up bones for his dogs. Heh, now he remembered what he had forgotten to ask the butcher for. “Mmh?” He held up his finger and repeated slowly “Vole o vent. It means flies in the wind, in French. It sounds fancier than it is. It’s puffed pastry and a creamy sauce with sweetbread. I think you can replace this with brains and perhaps, to really enhance the taste of brains, you could mix some directly into the sauce,” his brows furrowed. This should work. It probably would make one hell of a recipe for people like them who enjoyed those parts the rest of people sulked at.

Morgan took out her phone and started taking notes on her phone. It sounded decadent. The texture of the pastry would at least shake things up, and a sauce--she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything for herself that came with a sauce. As she took it all down, she felt an odd twist of guilt, it was a lot of trouble for something she had to eat by herself. Maybe she could share it with Remmy if they would ever talk to her again, but that was a fat chance. She smiled kindly at the French zombie all the same. “It sounds like you’ve really got your stuff together,” she said. “Um, can I---” She hesitated and searched the shop. No one around screamed hunter, at least. “I just kinda wonder, don’t you ever find it hard? Getting up every day with your real life behind you, trying to figure out how to put all the days in front of you into some kind of sense. Even if it’s longer than what you had before it’s not the same. And you can’t really explain it to most people, because they’ll never understand what it’s like to be like you in the first place. Uuh...it’s okay, if this is too forward. We don’t actually know each other and---” She checked the order counter. One second, three seconds, five-- “Yep! That’s my number, so, we can be good, really.”

“Wow, this got quite existencial really fast,” scoffing to himself, he brushed his laughter hand with a motion of the hand, making it clear that he was not making fun of her at all, but rather surprised by this turn of event. “But to answer to your question, I make do. Besides, you never know what tomorrow might be made of,” he shrugged. Part of what she said made him raise his eyebrows. Could it be possible… that she heard about the banshee scream? It was true that he had more time left than a week ago… technically. “How did you…” he shook his head. Nevermind how she knew. “You’ll send me pictures of your vol-au-vent ? If you need tips, I can send you a copy of my recipe notebook,” he offered. She went to pick up her order and he nodded politely at her. Alain, who had never been one for small talk, had started chatting more easily with others recently. Maybe being happier had helped him open up to people. Either way, it was nice and he couldn’t recall the last time he felt as if things were nice. “It was lovely talking to you.”

“Sorry, just been thinking too much to myself probably,” Morgan said lightly. She hadn’t realized that he didn’t put together the connection between them and it was far too awkward, too public to say, oh, I’m a month and change on the other side of death, how about you? But she gave him a warm look and hefted her brain supply for good measure before tucking it into her woven grocery bag. “Oh, you know, lucky guess,“ she said. “I can be too forward sometimes, I know. But we can chit chat on main, like normal people, if you want. Even without the existential angst! I’m Morgan. And you are—?”

“Who doesn’t,” Alain brushed it off, and glanced away from her, looking up at the order counter. It would not be long for him either, now. The piece of paper with the number on was now all crumpled from him fidgeting with it. He took his eyes back to her and watched her pack her purchases. “No harm done. I tend to be the exact opposite of that, so that’s a nice balance,” he almost smiled. Still there was kindness in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. “Let’s. Be normal people with the right amount of existential angst only,” his lips pursed before he replied. “I’m Alain.”

[livelovelaug-h]

Arguments and illnesses part I

Dr. Cox x reader 

Words- idk around 1000

A/n: the bold lines are jds thinking.

~~~~~~

Now -

"You think you have a tumor?" Jd asks.

"I don't know I know something's wrong I need you to run some tests for me but please just keep this between us." 

"...Of course."

96 hours ago -

You never really know what the day will bring for a relationship. something good? Something bad ? What are you going to argue about this time?

The new interns were coming today and you were nervous because you never know how they're going to treat you. 

"Hello gang I'm dr. Y/l/n and we're going to jump right into some of the questions. Can anyone tell me why someone would need there stomach pumped?" Five of them raised their hands not bad. 

"Yes. . Dr. Cory" 

"if you've swallowed a poisonous material, if you've had too much alcohol or swallowed large amounts of medication."

"Right on."  before you got the next question out Dr. Cox came in with his group of interns. He asked a question and some girl was right in his space touching him while answering the question. Why does she need to be that close ? And why does she need to touch him? What a slut. 

He better not enjoy it. 

~~~ later at lunch

Dr. Cox and you sat across from each other. 

"So how are your interns?" You ask. 

"Ah you know, annoying and incredibly needy. Yours?" 

"Pretty hard working. You seemed pretty close-" 

"Hey Dr. Cox I was wondering if you could help me with intubating?" You licked your lips and raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to answer. 

"....  I'm eating lunch. Out. now."

 "Okay see you later." She says half sexy. 

"You two seem pretty chill." 

"Oh my god. Are you jealous?" He asked.

"Of course not!" 

"Well trust me she's got nothing on you." 

"I'm listening." 

"You're hot." 

"Thank you " 

"No problem now why aren't you eating?" 

"I don't know im just not that hungry today. I'm a little nauseous." 

"Oh no you don't think you're-"

"No no no. I mean I shouldn't be. I'll check later but I think it's just from working a lot." right after you said that your pager went off. 

"Got to go, love you." 

~~~~~ 

God your head was starting to hurt real bad. 

~~~

"Hey y/n." Jd says. 

"Hey what's up?" 

"Nothing much I was just wondering if you wanted to go out for some drinks later with Turk, me, and, Carla?" 

"Um I don't think I can tonight I have this really bad headache that's lasted me for hours." 

"Oh okay. Hope you feel better." 

"Thank you." 

~~~~

You got home way before Perry did. You were waiting up for him but you totally failed that. You didn't know why you were so tired and nauseous. It wasn't your period, you weren't getting that for another 19 days. Maybe you were pregnant. 

~

"Good morning sleepy head." Perry said to you. 

"Good morning. I'm sorry I didn't say up last night I was sooo tired." 

"it's all good." He gave you a passionate kiss to assure you it was okay. 

"Wanna go take a take a shower?" He raises his eyebrows up and down. 

You laugh " haha lets go." 

---

"Hey Elliot do you know where they keep the pregnancy test ?" 

"OMG you're pregnant? That's great !! " 

"No no no shh keep it down, I don't think I am I'm just making sure "

"Yay but you still might be. I'll go get you one." 

"Thank you." 

~~

As you stood waiting for the results you couldn't stop thinking of the What ifs. What if dr. Cox didn't want a baby. What if you really were pregnant. How would you have the time for that. What if you didn't want a baby and Dr. Cox did. so many things to think about but you were just going to wait so you didn't drive yourself crazy in only three minutes. 

You are leaning against the wall, across from the pregnancy test that was on a piece of toilet paper by the sink. It was three mins so you started walking towards the test when you felt like you were going to throw up, so you ran to the stall and emptied your stomach. 

"I guess that answers that?" You said flushing and walking over to the test. 

You thought for sure it would say that you were pregnant but you almost missed that it didn't say that. 

"Wait what?... I guess I'm just getting sick then."  

"Hey are you alright? you don't look so good." Jd says when you walk out of the bathroom. 

"Well thank you. And I'm fine." 

Later that same day on top of being nauseous and vomiting, you got your headache back. You got dizzy but you figured it was because you weren't eating. 

~~~ the next day 61 hours

*Okay I need you to run a CT on Mr. Hooks to see if he has a liver Mass."

"Umm we already did that this morning." Jd said. 

"Oh.. yeah. Yeah, I'm sorry I was just super swamped this morning that's all." 

"Yeah, yeah I understand." But he was still worried tho. 

Some people don't like to admit that they're sick even when the signs are jumping out at them….

--

"Hey Turk how are you?" You asked him.

"I've been in surgery all morning so you know how dat be, but what's up?"

"oh nothing I just wanted to ask a question about a patient."

"oh sure what's up?"

"well she's been throwing up but she's not pregnant, she already took a test and she's been dizzy and not hungry also throwing up and forgetting things. I just wanted your second opinion on what it might be?"

"could be a few things but I would say brain tumor."

"oh."

Because they're not ready for the bad news.

"you all right?"

"yeah... great thank you."

They're not ready for the new journey thats awaits them.

Now-

"You think you have a tumor?" Jd asks me.

"I don't know I know something's wrong I need you to run some tests for me but please just keep this between us." 

"okay.. wait really you don't want Dr. Cox to Know?" 

"Oh no, especially not him. Can I trust you?" 

"...Yeah… you can. but don't you think he's going to be mad if he finds out?" 

"No because it could be nothing. But thank you so much. I owe you one." 

"Uh sure, do you want to do it later tonight?"

"sounds great thank you j.d." she says kissing my cheek.

And sometimes people don't tell others about there possible sickness which can end in a big downfall. 

[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior 12/4/20 – HALF BROTHERS, THE PROM, I’M YOUR WOMAN, BLACK BEAR, LUXOR, ANOTHER ROUND, ALL MY LIFE, NOMADLAND, MANK and Much More!

I hope everyone had an absolutely wonderful Thanksgiving. Mine was relatively uneventful, and I only spent most of my time watching movies.  And holy shit, there are a LOT of movies out this week, but at least a few of them I’ve already seen and reviewed, and there are others that are actually pretty good, so I might as well get to it, hm?

First up is this week’s Focus Features theatrical release, HALF BROTHERS, a buddy road comedy directed by Luke Greenfield (Blue Streak, Let’s Be Cops) that’s fairly high concept but also with quite a bit more depth than the director’s previous movies. It stars Luis Gerardo Méndez as Renato Murguia, a wealthy Mexican businessman whose father left him to come to America when Renato was just a child. Just as Renato is about to get married while having issues connecting to his future stepson Emilio, he gets a call that his own father is dying, so he begrudgingly goes to see him. Once there, Renato’s dying father sends him on a scavenger hunt to find someone named “Eloise” with his annoying slacker half-brother Asher (Connor del Rio), because that will provide all the answers Renato is looking for on why his father never returned from America, remarried and had another son. What could possibly go wrong?

If you’ve seen any of the ads for Half Brothers, you may already presume that this is a fairly high-concept buddy road comedy that is constantly going for the zaniest and craziest of laughs. That probably would only be maybe 25% of the movie. Instead, this fairly mainstream comedy finds a way to take a very common comedy trope and throw in enough heartfelt moments that you can forgive the few times when it does go for low-hanging fruit. We’ve seen so many movies like this where two guys (or sometimes ladies, but not as often) are paired with one having zero patience or tolerance for the other, who is beyond aggravating to them. (Planes, Trains and Automobiles is one of the better ones.) Obviously, Renato fits snugly into the first category, and Asher could not be more annoying, very early on stealing a goat for no particular reason.

The Mexican angle and the fact that a lot of the film is in Spanish – Focus getting into Pantelion territory here? – does add to make Half Brothers feel like more of a personal story than we might normally see in this kind of movie, touching upon the immigrant experience, from the viewpoint of a low-paid worker as well as a well-to-do industrialist. It also deals with things like fatherhood and brotherhood and what it means to be one or both, so everything ultimately connects far better in the end than some might expect. I also want to give the filmmakers credit for putting together a cast of mostly unknown or little-known actors and getting such great results out of them.

On the surface, Half Brothers seems like just another buddy comedy, but underneath, it’s a heartfelt and emotional journey that touches in so many ways and ends up being quite enjoyable.

Another movie opening nationwide this Friday is ALL MY LIFE (Universal), starring Jessica (Happy Death Day) Rothe as Jennifer Carter and Harry (Crazy Rich Asians) Shum Jr. as Solomon Chau, whose wedding plans are thrown off when he is diagnosed with liver cancer. They realize they have to get married sooner since he might not live to make their planned date, so their friends launch a fundraiser so that they can get married in two weeks. The movie is directed by Marc Meyers (My Friend Dahmer), who is a more than capable filmmaker with this being his third movie in the last two years.

Now that I’ve actually seen the movie… I’ll freely admit that this is not the kind of movie I usually have very high expectations for, and maybe that’s because I’ve already been burnt twice this year with real-life romantic dramas, first with the faith-based I Still Believe in March and then more recently with Two Hearts. In both cases, I could count the issues and why they failed to tug at the heart strings as they were meant to do.  Even though I’ve generally enjoyed Meyers’ past movies, I wasn’t even sure he could pull off this type of studio romance movie without having to cowtow to the corny clichés that always seem to slip in – or at least find a way to make them more palatable. (And let’s be realistic. This is the kind of movie that snobby film critics just LOVE to trash.)

First of all, Meyers already has two truly fantastic leads working in his movie’s favor.  I’ve been a true Jessica Rothe stan ever since seeing her kill it in Happy Death Day and its sequel. Shum is perfectly paired with her, and the two of them are so good from the moment they first meet and we meet them.  In every scene, you feel like you’re watching some of that rare on-screen romantic chemistry that’s so hard to fake. Their relationship is romantic and goofy, and you’re just rooting for them all the way through even if you do know what’s to come.

Eventually, Sol does fall ill, and it does lead to some more dramatic and tougher moments between the couple, but all of it is handled so tastefully, including their need to raise money so they can have their wedding rather than waiting. I am living proof that people really do come together to step up when they see someone in real need, so I couldn’t even tut tut at something like their fundraiser getting so many people to chip in. On top of his two leads, Meyers has assembled such a great cast around the duo, the most recognizable being Jay Pharaoh from Saturday Night Live, everyone around Jess and Sol handles the requisite emotions with nary a weak link.

There’s just so much other stuff that adds to the enjoyment of watching All My Life from the use of Oasis and Pat Benatar in the soundtrack just to the quality storytelling that makes it all feel quite believable. These sorts of movies tend to be rather corny and the diehard cynic who doesn’t have an ounce of romance or love in their body will find things to hate.

All My Life finds its way into your heart by being one of those rare studio romance movies that understands how human emotions truly work, and there’s nothing corny about that. It’s a beautiful movie that entertains but also elicits more than a few tears. Watch it with someone you love.

This week’s “Featured Flick” is Chloe Zhao’s amazing film NOMADLAND (Searchlight), which I reviewed out of its Toronto International Film Festival premiere, but it’s (sort of) being released in theaters this week. It stars Frances McDormand as Fern, a woman living in her van as she moves from place to place taking odd jobs within a community of nomads. It’s another amazing film from the filmmaker behind The Rider, who will make her foray into the Marvel Cinematic Universe next year with The Eternals, which I’m just as psyched about. There’s no denying that McDormand gives a performance that’s a knock-out, even better than the one in 3 Billboards if you ask me, and there’s also a great supporting role for David Strathairn, who I’ve been hoping would have another role as good as this one. Zhao is just a fantastic filmmaker, and I’m glad to see that The Rider was no fluke.

Unfortunately, Nomadland is only getting a one-week Oscar qualifying run, and I’m not even sure where it’s getting that run since theaters in New York and L.A. aren’t even open yet. Maybe Searchlight will do some drive-in screenings like they did for the New York Film Festival and Telluride? It will get a stronger theatrical release (hopefully) on February 21, just to make doubly sure it qualifies for Oscars.

Opening in theaters this week before streaming on Netflix December 11 is Ryan Murphy’s adaptation of the Broadway musical THE PROM, the first feature film he’s directed in ten years. The multiple Tony-nominated musical is about a high school girl named Emma (newcomer Jo Ellan Pellman) who wants to take her girlfriend (Ariana DeBose) to their senior prom, but the head of the PTA (Kerry Washington) cancels the prom instead. The national outrage the situation creates gets the attention of a quintet of self-absorbed Broadway actors who decide to improve their PR by taking up Emma’s cause. Oh, yeah, and those actors are played by Meryl Streep, James Corden, Nicole Kidman, and actual Broadway stars Andrew Rannells and Kevin Chamberlin. What could possibly go wrong?

I’ve never had any sort of positive or negative gut reaction to Murphy’s work on television over the past few years, but I’ve definitely been mixed on the three movies he’s directed to date. I wasn’t a huge fan of his Eat Pray Love, though I vaguely remember enjoying his debut, Running with Scissors. Either way, he certainly has found his niche with musicals from Glee (a show I’ve never watched)  and finding a musical like The Promseems to be a perfect fit between filmmaker and material.

Having not seen The Prom on Broadway – surprise, surprise -- I was a little worried that it was going to go down the path of nudge-nudge wink-wink inside Broadway path that helped Mel Brooks’ The Producers become a Broadway hit. That I saw, and I didn’t hate the movie based on it, although I’m by no means a total movie-musical stan. There’s some obvious older ones I love, some newer ones that others love but I hated – Rob Marshall is about 50/50 for me -- and you might be surprised by which of them I liked best.

What I thoroughly enjoyed about The Prom is that Murphy manages to truly surprise everyone watching it, whether it’s in Kerry Washington’s single song – who knew she had such an amazing singing voice? – or how enjoyable Keegan-Michael Key is as the school’s Principal Hawkins, who not only loves musicals but actually admires Streep’s two-time Tony-award winning Dee Dee Allen. Considering my frequent disdain for Streep’s over-confidence, knowing full well that she’s one of the best living actors working today, she’s actually pretty amazing in the role of what many must assume Streep is like in real life, which makes her character more than a little META. In some ways, I can say the same for Corden, who is pretty fantastic as Dee Dee’s frequent stage co-star Barry Glickman, who has his own connections to Emma’s plight having been disowned by his mother (Tracey Ullman, who only shows up for one brief scene late in the movie) when he came out to her. Corden has one dramatic moment so powerful I was taken quite aback.

Even with those two actors and Kidman likely to get much of the attention, there’s no denying that the romance between Hellman and Debose, and the three or four numbers they have together, makes up the true heart and soul of The Prom. So here you have this amazing cast, and it’s a musical made-up of very fun and quite catchy songs, and that’s long before you get to Andrew Rannells as out-of-work actor Trent Oliver, who practically steals the whole movie with his showstopper of a number, “Love Thy Neighbor.” And then watching Key holding his own with Streep, both musically and dramatically, you might start wondering, “What is going on here?”

Like I said before, it’s pretty obvious that Murphy has fully poured his passion of movie-musicals into every second of The Prom, and it shows on the face of everyone joining him on this adventure. As much as the subject at the film’s core is fairly serious and a hurdle that many gay kids across the world every day, it’s also quite funny. Kudos must be given to Murphy for being able to emphasize those moments as well as the more dramatic ones. Besides that, Murphy really takes advantage of being able to go to different locations, including a sequence on Broadway that could have been done during the pandemic (it actually was built on a soundstage), another number at an actual mall and even at a monster truck rally. It also doesn’t hurt that Murphy hired Matthew Libatique, a god-like cinematographer in my book, to film the movie either.

Like most musicals, The Prom might lose a little as it goes along, since it gets to be too much that goes on for too long, but then there are more than enough great moments to pull you back. It’s by far one of the stronger movie musicals I’ve seen in a very long time, and just the right feel-good experience we all need right now.

I’ve already reviewed David Fincher’s MANK – a few times, in fact – but if you’re in one of the places where it opened theatrically in November, you can finally see it on Netflix starting this Friday. This is the general problem with the way things are these days because even though this only opened a few weeks ago, I already feel that it’s been discussed and forgotten before most people will have a chance to see it.  Anyway, if for some reason, you’ve managed to avoid things about the movie, it essentially stars Gary Oldman as Herman Mankiewicz, the Hollywood screenwriter who ended up co-writing Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane in 1940. The film follows Mankiewicz as he mingles with the Hollywood elite in the 30s, including billionaire William Randolph Hearst (Charles Dance) and his young ingenue girlfriend Marion Davies (Amanda Seyfried) who would be the influence for his Oscar-winning screenplay. I expect to be writing a lot about this movie as we get closer to Oscar season sometime next year.

Also on Netflix this week is Selena: The Series, starring Christian Serratos. It’s the kind of thing that I probably would never watch unless I have an excess of time, and as you’re about to learn from the rest of the column, that doesn’t happen frequently.

The third chapter of Steve McQueen’s “Small Axe Anthology,” RED WHITE AND BLUE, will debut on Prime Video this Sunday, starring John Boyega as Leroy Logan, a young black man who joins the Metropolitan Police after seeing his father assaulted by police and wanting to make a difference in the racist attitudes from within. You might remember that I reviewed this out of the New York Film Festival a couple months back, so not much more to say there.

A week from Sunday, on December 13, McQueen’s fourth film, ALEX WHEATLE, will hit Amazon, and guess what? I’ve already seen it, so I will review it now. How about that? Alex Wheatle is also a true story, this one starring Sheyi Cole as the award-winning young adult writer when he was a younger and just learning the ropes as a drugdealer/DJ in Brixton before his involvement in the 1981 Brixton riots gets him thrown in jail.

As with the other three movies in the “Small Axe Anthology” there are recurring elements and themes in Alex Wheatle, mostly about the way the immigrants to England from Jamaica and other islands are treated by “The Beast” aka what they call the Metropolitan Police. It does take a little time to get to that, as McQueen, working from a screenplay co-written by Mangrove’s Alaistar Siddons, takes a far more non-linear approach than the other three films. We first see Wheatle being taken into prison where he’s thrown into a cell with a constantly-shitting Rastafarian, but we then cut back to his schooling for a short sequence that reminded me of Alan Clarke’s Scum. Both in prison and in school, we see Alex being abused by classmates and head matron alike, and this portion of the film includes another one of arty moments of actor Cole laying on the ground eyes wide open staring for what seems to go on forever. In some ways, this sequence reminds me of McQueen’s fantastic early film Hunger, since it seems to be cut from similar cloth.

Eventually, Alex gets to Brixton and that’s where this chapter in “Small Axe” really takes off as we see how naïve and green he is while dealing with quite a tough crowd and trying to adjust to city life among the Rastafarian community.

As with the other “Small Axe” chapters, I love how McQueen and his team used reggae music to help set the tone and vibe for the episode, because like Baz Lurhman’s Netflix series The Get Down, the music is frequently a key to this biopic working so well. Of course, it’s also due to the performance by Cole and the actors around him that helps make you feel as if you’re seeing a real part of history.

As with Mangrove, this chapter culminates with an amazing recreation of the 1981 Brixton Riots, done in protest after a house party fire in New Cross that the police don’t bother investigating. The actual riots were a much bigger and scarier event going by Wikipedia which says that 279 police were injured and 56 police vehicles set fire, which makes it sound more like the ’92 L.A. Riots.

I’m not sure Alex Wheatle does as good a job explaining how the young man goes into prison as a DJ and comes out as an author, but like Red, White and Blue it’s still an important and inspirational story that adds quite a bit to the previous three “Small Axe” films.

And once again, here is my interview with McQueen from over at Below the Line.

Also, I should mention that Darius Marder’s excellent Sound of Metal movie, starring Riz Ahmed, hits Amazon Prime Video this Friday, too. Check out my review!

The magnificent Andrea Riseborough stars in Zeina Durra’s LUXOR (Samuel Goldwyn), playing British aid worker Hana who while spending time in the ancient city of Luxor, runs into her former lover Sultan (Karim Saleh), as she reflects on past decisions and her current uncertain situation.

I was quite interested in this one sight unseen, not only because it’s another great starring role for Riseborough. (Honestly, she is one of the best actors working today, and I strongly believe she is just one role away from being the next Olivia Colman, who had been amazing for years before everyone in America “discovered” her in The Favourite and then The Crown… which I still haven’t watched! ARGH!). I was a little anxious about the movie, having seen Rubba Nadda’s Cairo Time, starring Patricia Clarkson and Alexander Siddig, which seemingly had the exact same plot.

Durra is a much more capable and confident filmmaker and there’s a lot more overall value in watching Riseborough exploring Egypt as Durra quietly allows Hana’s story to unfold through her interactions with others, as well as her time alone, often languishing in one luxurious hotel room or another.  Then there are the quiet and sometime awkward scenes between her and Saleh, the two of them having been lovers when they were both much younger. We also see Hana in far more vulnerable moments, so we know that she’s by no means actor, and it takes a great actor to really pull off such a dichotomy and bring such dimension to a character with so few words.

There’s something that’s almost comforting watching her dealing with emotions like loneliness in such a tranquil way. I’d even go so far to say that Luxor works in many ways similar to Nomadland, which obviously is getting the far more high-profile release with lots of festival love long before its actual release.  Like that movie, Durra’s film benefits from having masterful cinematography by Zelmira Gainza and an equally gorgeous score by Nascuy Linares, to boot.

Luxor is a quiet, beautifully-made film that really took me by surprise. It acts as much like a travelogue of the title city as it does a tourist’s map to what it must feel like being a woman very much on her own in a foreign land.

I also spoke with Luxor filmmaker Zeina Durra, an interview that will be up at Below the Line hopefully sometime later this week.

With all the talk about Aubrey Plaza in Happiest Season (now on Hulu!), this would be a great time to release another one of her indies that played at the Sundance Film Festival this year, right? What can possibly go wrong?

In Lawrence Michael Levine’s BLACK BEAR (Momentum Pictures), Plaza plays Allison, an actor/filmmaker who arrives at the remote lake house of Christopher Abbott’s Gabe and his pregnant partner Blair (Sarah Gadon), to relax and work on a screenplay, only for the night to turn into philosophical discussions that transform into angry and even violent squabbles. In the second part of the movie, Gabe is the director, and Allison his actor wife, who thinks he’s sleeping with Blair, who is also acting in Gabe’s film.

That plot might seem a little vague, and I can’t exactly tell you whether there is much connection between the two parts of the movie other than it features the same three characters. The first half turns from a drama into a thriller before ending abruptly, while the second part is equal parts comedy and drama as we see a larger part of the world around the trio. In fact, the second part of Black Bear reminded me somewhat of Olivier Assayas’Irma Vep, one of my favorite movies, and that might be one of the highest compliments I can pay a movie.

But first, you have to get through the more quizzical and dramatic first part, which easily could have been done as a three-handed stageplay as we see the changing dynamics between the three people as things get crazier and crazier with one “Holy shit!” moment after the next. (It reminded me a little of Mamet or the play “Gods of Carnage,” although I only saw that as the movie version Carnage, directed by Roman Polanski.)

The fact the connection between the two parts is never explained might confound some people who were otherwise enjoying what is a pretty decent three-hander, but the common theme involves jealousy between the two women. Plaza is a fine dramatic actor when she wants to be, and Gadon is absolutely fantastic, which makes Abbot almost literally the odd man out, but the three of them just have great scenes together.

Black Bear is certainly an enigma of a movie, as much a mystery about what must be going on inside Plaza’s head during some of her softer and crazier scenes, but if you want to talk about range, this gives her so much material for her demo reel that no one could possibly doubt her as an actor again.

Thomas Vinterberg’s new movie ANOTHER ROUND (Samuel Goldwyn) reteams him with his The Hunt star Mads Mikkelsen for a comedy…. Ish… about a group of four middle aged Danish teachers who decide to hold an experiment to prove a theory that people only reach their maximum effectiveness and creativity when they’re .05% drunk. It starts out innocently enough but soon, the men are drinking heavily at school, leading to horrible and unfortunate side effects. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

Even knowing Vinterberg’s knack for strange and twisted “comedies,” Another Round is definitely on another level, opening with a scene of drunken kids playing a drinking game that gets them so out-of-control drunk and rowdy. We then meet Mikkelsen’s Martin, a history teacher, whose rowdy seniors are so bored by his classroom technique that Martin is put in front of an inquisition of parents who think he’s going to make their kids fail their final exams. Martin’s home life isn’t much better with his wife Anika (Maria Bonnevie) or his own teen sons. Although Martin says he won’t drink when he has to drive, his friend Nikolaj (Magnus Millang) convinces him by announcing his theory about how everyone needs to always maintain a certain percentage of alcohol in their system.  Over the course of the rest of the movie, we’re shown the alcohol level of our “heroes,” although most will see their behavior as some kind of synced-up middle life crisis. For Martin, it’s a breakthrough, as he starts feeling more confident and assertive towards his students, even trying to connect with them via their drinking activities, as seen in the opening montage.

Another Round is quite a different beast from The Hunt, because there’s a more humorous tone to the point where I could totally see an American studio trying to remake this with the likes of Will Ferrell and Adam Sandler, which would probably lose a lot of the poignancy of what Vinberberg was trying to achieve here. At one point, he throws in a montage of seemingly drunk world leaders, which is kind of amusing even if it’s not quite so apparent why it’s there. There’s a lot of really bad white guy dancing, too, for anyone who is into that sort of thing.

There is definitely a good amount of grief and sadness to the way this story resolves, although Vinterberg still finds a way to leave Martin in a place of joy with a closing scene that may surprise a lot of people. Another Round is another tremendous feather in the cap of the Vinterberg/Mikkelsen collaboration, and it will be in select theaters this Friday before going to digital on December 18.

Another Round will be in select theaters this Friday and then on digital December 18.

Fast Color director Julia Hart returns with I’M YOUR WOMAN (Amazon), once again co-written with husband Jordan Horowitz. It stars Rachel Brosnahan from The Amazing Mrs. Maisel (which I haven’t seen) as Jean, a woman unable to have a baby with her small-time crook husband Eddie. One night, Eddie brings home a baby for Jean, but then he quickly vanishes and Jean finds herself on the run with a stolen baby and one of Eddie’s accomplices, Cal (Arinzé Kene), and there are bad men wanting to question Jean about her missing husband’s whereabouts.

This is another movie where I really didn’t know what to expect, and having not watched Brosnahan on her award-winning show, I was watching this movie trying to figure out what all the fuss was about.  It’s evident from the start that Hart/Horowitz were trying to make a ‘70s-set movie with all the trappings of ‘70s fashion and music, but when you throw in the crime element, it comes across a little too much like last year’s The Kitchen, which wasn’t very good but also wasn’t based on very good source material.

One would presume that the genre elements and a few scattered set pieces, like a shootout at a club, would be the main draw, but it’s almost 30 minutes before we even get any sort of plot, and that’s a big problem. An even bigger problem is that I’m Your Woman just drags for so much of the movie, and it’s pretty obvious that Hart-Horowitz were trying to create a ‘70s movie like some of the films by Scorsese and the movies John Cassavetes made with wife Gena Rowlands. By comparison, I’m Your Woman is stylized almost to a pretentious degree.  Brosnahan does show a few glimpses of there being a good actor in there, but the material just really isn’t quite up to snuff. It also doesn’t help the movie to have the baby crying almost non-stop throughout.

Jean eventually pairs up with Cal’s woman Teri (Martha Stephanie Blake), her son Paul and Cal’s father (played by Frankie Faison), and this is when she learns more about Eddie’s life that she doesn’t know about. Eventually, things start to pick up in the last act, but the multiple problems Hart has with maintaining a steady pace or tone only mildly is made up for by her terrific DP and whoever put together the musical score.  Essentially, the last 30 minutes of I’m Your Woman does make up for the previous 85 minutes, but it’s going to be very hard for many people to even get through how dull the movie is up until that point.

This is a week with some very fine docs, the first one being Weixi Chen and Hao Wu*’s cinema verité film 76 DAYS (MTV Documentary Films), which goes behind the doors of the Wuhan ICU Red Cross hospital over the first 76 days of the COVID pandemic after it hit the rural area of China. (*One of the film’s co-directors/cinematographers shot the film anonymously.)

Here I thought that Alex Gibney’s Totally Under Control would be the best or maybe even only movie about the pandemic released this year, but here we have a fantastic documentary that captures what it was really like in one Wuhan hospital as it was nearly overrun months before COVID started to rear its ugly head in the States. The film begins in January 23, 2020 and follows a number of cases as we watch the personnel, all decked out in head-to-toe PPE, trying to save lives and keep people calm while trying to struggle with all the stresses that come their way. There’s actually a little bit of humor in a cranky elderly man (clearly with some form of dementia) who keeps wandering around the hospital, frustrating his tenders, but there’s also a very moving story of a young pregnant woman who has contracted COVID, who ends up being separated from her baby after a Cesarian section.

There are moments early in the movie where you can see panic starting to set in as we see how out of control things begin, but the anonymous health care workers soon get things underhand and manage to find a way to deal with the panic that’s setting in. There’s no question that these doctors and nurses – many whose faces we never even see -- are the definition of frontline workers, trying to deal with this unknown virus without all the answers and solutions that have been discovered over the past ten months.

76 Days will open via the Film Forum Virtual Cinema as well as other places presumably.

I’m glad I had Dana Nachman’s DEAR SANTA (IFC Films) to watch after 76 Days, because I don’t think I could have handled another dark or deep movie after that one. This doc is all about “Operation Santa,” the amazing group of volunteers and adopters who receive the letters young kids write to the North Pole and go out of their way to fulfill the kids’ wishes.

I was a big fan of Nachman’s Pick of the Litter, so I’m thrilled to say that Dear Santa is just as wonderful and joyous, starting with a bunch of kids explaining Santa Clause enthusiastically, because they really believe in Jolly Saint Nick. Over the course of the film, Nachman profiles a number of Adopter Elves, who look through the letters written to Santa by unfortunate kids and pick a few to fulfill their wishes. A lot of them are in New York and Chicago where the program has led to a number of non-profits, but Nachman also goes to Chico, California where many of the families from Paradise, the town destroyed by fires in 2018, ended up relocation. One story of an Adopter Elf named Damion is particularly wonderful, since he, like many of those who get involved in the program, are trying to give back and pay it forward.

Operation Santa is such a great program and Dear Santa is such a wonderful movie, I challenge anyone to watch it and not tear up from how big their heart will grow while watching it.

Julien Temple’s doc CROCK OF GOLD: A NIGHT WITH SHANE MACGOWAN (Magnolia Pictures) is pretty self-explanatory from its title, but as someone who was never really a Pogues fan, I was almost as entertained by Temple’s film as I was by Alex Winter’s Zappa about a musician who I actually was a fan of. Temple uses MacGowan’s own narration to tell his story from growing up in Ireland, the early days of punk that led to the Pogues and eventually, mainstream success.

My absolute adoration of well-made music docs is fairly well-known at this point, and you can’t really get much better in terms of music doc makers than Julien Temple, who had his cameras rolling in the early days of punk, captured one of David Bowie’s more interesting mainstream phases and also made a very cool movie about The Clash frontman, Joe Strummer.

Although I never really cared for The Pogues, that’s probably because I didn’t know them from their rowdier days and more from their mainstream success from “Fairytale of New York” but Temple’s movie rectifies that with some amazing footage from the band’s earlier days. Even more impressive is the footage and pictures of MacGowan during the late ‘70s dancing in the audience at Sex Pistols and other punk shows. (Temple even interviewed MacGowan during this period in the ‘70s, then put the footage in the movie.) As MacGowan tells his own story about growing up in Ireland, Temple frequently uses varied animation to recreate the stories being told, and that does a lot to embellish the cartoon nature of MacGowan’s storytelling.

I still think MacGowan is a bit of an asshole -- I’m sure he’d agree with that assessment -- but Temple has found a way into this very difficult musician, sometimes using close friends like Johnny Depp (a producer on the film) and Bobby Gillespie from Primal Scream to try to get MacGowan to open up about as much as he ever might. Crock of Gold is certainly an eye-opening portrait of the Pogues frontman that surprisingly offers something to enjoy even for those who never got into his music, but it also shows another dimension to his many fans. If nothing else, it’s a fine testament to why Temple is one of the best music doc filmmakers.

Magnolia held a bunch of one-night only theatrical screenings on Tuesday and will have more on Thursday, but if you miss those, you can catch it On Demand/digital this Friday. (I also have a really enjoyable interview with Julien Temple over at Below the Line that you should check out.)

A.J. and Jenny Tesler’s doc MAGNOLIA’S HOPE follows four years in the life of their young daughter Magnolia (aka Maggie), who has Rett Syndrome. Maggie’s filmmaking parents talk about noticing her strange behavior and finding out that she had a genetic disorder that makes it harder for children to retain what they’ve learned in terms of movement but also might led to far worse disorders. It makes it almost impossible for her to communicate with her parents, which makes it heartbreaking but also quite inspirational that the parents would allow us into their very own difficult journey to try to get their daughter to use and develop all of the skills she learns by making her practice them every single day. The movie will be available to watch for the month of December on the streaming platform Show and Tell, but it’s such a personal movie and another one where I think it will be hard for many to watch without getting a little teary but more out of joy than sadness.

Also out this week is David Osit’s MAYOR (Film Movement), which follows Musa  Hadid, the Christian mayor of Ramallah during his second term of office and determined to make his city a beautiful and dignified place to lived despite being surrounded on all sides by soldiers and Israeli settlements. It will open today at the Film Forum’s Virtual Cinema in New York after winning the Grand Jury Prize at the 2020 Full Frame Documentary Film Festival.

What there’s more? How about Braden R. Duemmler’s WHAT LIES BELOW (Vertical Entertainment), a thriller starring Ema Hovarth from Quibi’s Don’t Look Deeper as Liberty (aka Libby), a teen girl returning from camp only to learn her mother (Mena Suvari) has a hot younger boyfriend named John (Trey Tucker), who Libby soon begins to question whether he’s human. What could possibly go wrong?

I knew I was in trouble when Suvari is picking her daughter up from archeology camp (that’s a thing?) and I misheard her asking her daughter “Any nice digs?” (think about it), especially since Suvari is playing a stereotypically over-sexed cougar, something that becomes far more obvious once we meet her boyfriend that she’s been sexing up at her lake house. There’s certainly a danger of What Lies Below turning into a prequel to a Pornhub video, but thankfully, Duemmler gets away from the inappropriate sexuality inherent in John’s presence and into the weird behavior that gets Libby suspicious.

Sure, maybe calling the movie “My Stepfather is an Alien” would have been more apropos, and there’s elements of the movie that reminded me of the Tom Hanks’ movie The ‘burbs, and not in a good way. Even so, Hovarth, who really looks like Suvari’s daughter, does a fine job holding this together and keeping you invested in how things might pan out, as things get weirder and weirder and the movie eventually transforms itself into a halfway decent and creepy “body horror” flick.

Weird but well-done, What Lies Below is not even close to the worst thriller I’ve seen this year. That might seem like damning praise, but it’s the best I can do for this one.

Debuting on Shudder this Thursday is Justin G. Dyck’s ANYTHING FOR JACKSON (Shudder), a “reverse exorcism” movie in which a seemingly kindly couple, played by Sheila McCarthy and Julian Richings, kidnap a pregnant woman (Konstantina Mantelos) in hopes of getting the spirit of their grandson Jackson, who died in a car crash, and put him into her baby… with the help of demons. What could possibly go wrong? (If you hadn’t guessed, this is the theme of this week’s Weekend Warrior.)

I’ve been thoroughly impressed with the horror delivered by streamer Shudder this year, and Anything for Jackson is no exception. In fact, going over Dyck’s filmography, it’s kind of surprising how decent a horror filmmaker he is, because most of his other movies seem like Hallmark-style Christmas movies? Crazy. There are aspects of Anything for Jackson, written by Keith Cooper, who wrote some of those holiday movies for Dyck. I honestly can imagine the two of them making this movie just to be able to do something different, so they come into the horror realm with tons of fim making experience and easily transition into horror.

At the heart of this movie are McCarthy, Richings and Mantelos, who are all fine actors who do a great job selling the horrors but do just as well during the quieter dramatic moments.  Not that there are that many of them, as Dyck/Cooper throw so many absolutely horrific moments at the viewer so that diehard horror fans will not be disappointed. Things shift into another gear when Josh Cruddas joins in as a Satanic cult leader they bring in to help them when they realize they’re out of their league. The results are something akin to Insidiousin terms of the types of demons and ghosts thrown at the viewer.

At times, Anything for Jackson was a little hard to follow, maybe due to its non-linear storytelling, but at least it has a substantial amount of decent replay value, since the demons and kills are so gloriously gory.

Eric Schultz’s dark and trippy sci-fi thriller MINOR PREMISE (Utopia) stars Sathya Sridharan as neuroscientist Ethan, who gets caught up in his own risky experiment involving memory loss when he becomes trapped in his home with his ex-girlfriend Allie (Paton Ashbrook), and he doesn’t remember how they both got there.

For his directorial debut, Schultz has taken the cerebral indie sci-fi film route that we’ve seen in other filmmaking debuts like Shane Carruth’s Primer, Darren Aronofsky’s Pi or Richard Kelly’s Donnie Darko, and if you’re a fan of those movies, you’ll already know if this would be for you or not. This is also the kind of movie that really requires the closest attention and fullest focus, which is not something I’m great at right now. Because of that, I don’t have a ton to say about a film that does a good job pulling the viewer in with its intriguing premise.

Schultz is a pretty decent filmmaker and discovering Sridharan, who has done a lot of single-episode TV appearances but nothing major, is quite a coup since this is quite a solid showcase for the young actor. I wasn’t as crazy about Ashbrook, which makes it for a rather uneven two-hander.

Minor Premise is just fine, and I think some people will definitely like it more than I did. I definitely will have to watch it again when I’m not so distracted by ALL THOSE OTHER MOVIES ABOVE THAT I JUST FUCKING REVIEWED!

It will be in theaters, in virtual cinema, and digital/On Demand this Friday, so check it out for yourself.

And finally…

Director Dennis Dugan of Big Daddy and Happy Gilmore directs LOVE, WEDDINGS AND OTHER DISASTERS (Saban Films), a “Love American Style” rom-com anthology with a cast that includes Maggie Grace, Jeremy Irons, Diane Keaton and more. Grace plays Jessie, a fairly inexperienced wedding plan hired to orchestrate the high-profile wedding of Boston mayoral candidate (Dennis Staroselsky), and then… oh, you know what? I’ll leave the rest of the description to the review portion of our review.

We meet Grace’s character as she and her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend are skydiving, which goes horribly wrong as they end up fighting all the way down and crashing through an outdoor wedding, caught on a viral video that gets her dubbed the “Wedding Thrasher.” Imagine what a PR disaster that would be for mayoral candidate Rob Barton to have her planning his wedding, but Jessie quickly bonds with his fiancé Liz (Caroline Portu) and begins preparations. Meanwhile, Barton’s problematic brother Jimmy (Andy Goldenberg) has gone on a game show called “Crash Couples” (that’s hosted by no less than Dugan himself) and he allows himself to be chained to a Russian “lawyer” named Svetlana (Melinda Hill) who is actually a stripper. They’re willing to stick it out since the winner gets a million dollars.

Surely, that’s more than enough stories, right? Nope. Turns out that Jessie’s main competition to plan the wedding is a legendary caterer named Lawrence Phillips (Irons) who is set-up on a blind date with Diane Keaton, who is blind. Oy vey.  Also, there’s Andrew Bachelor as Captain Ritchie, who gives humorous sightseeing tours of Boston via the Charles River in an odd land/water vehicle, but one day, he encounters a young woman with a glass slipper tattoo, and he becomes quite smitten. We’ll get back to him. Maybe. In fact, Duggan spends so much time setting up different stories and relationships without much connection that you wonder whether he can tie things up in the oh-so-predictable way these things normally go.

Although the movie starts out fine, and it’s actually not a bad role for Grace, as soon as Duggan introduces the game show, then we learn that Svetlana (real name Olga) is a tripper connected to the mob and they get involved, things just start going downhill very fast. Also, the idea that Keaton -- who I haven’t seen in a good movie in almost two decades --  would not think twice about playing a klutzy blind person. As soon as she shows up and immediately knocks over one of Phillips’ signature champagne glass fountains, I knew we were in for a very long haul. I didn’t even mention the other storyline involving a musician named Mack (Diego Boneta) whose band Jessie is trying to get to play the wedding – one of the multiple meet-cutes in the movie -- although Mack is squabbling with his bandmate Lenny (Jesse McCartney) who has a new Asian girlfriend who is intruding in their friendship.  (I’m sure the fact her name is “Yoni” is meant as as Yoko Ono reference.)

Then on top of that, Dugan steals the gimmick from There’s Something About Mary, by constantly cutting back to Elle King and Keaton Simmons as they’re playing folksy songs in the park. Okay, the fact that Dugan wrote many of those pretty decent songs they perform is pretty impressive.

But the movie is very predictable, especially how it all comes together for the finale, which obviously has to take place at the wedding to which everything has been building up to.

Otherwise, Dugan’s film is maybe 20% an okay movie but the other 80%? Yeesh!! It’s about as romantic as a date with the Marquis de Sade, and it somehow manages to be an equal opportunity offender... in terms of offending blind people, Asians, Jews, Arabs, gay people and even strippers and Russian mafia. It took Dugan 14 years to get this passion project made, and it’s pretty obvious why.

As usual, there were a couple movies I didn’t have time to watch, but not quite as many as the ones I did make time to watch:

King of Knives (Gravitas Ventures) End of Sentence (Gravitas Venture) Billie (Greenwich) Godmothered (Disney+) Wander (Saban Films) Music Got Me Here (First Run Features) Stand! (Fathom Events, Imagination Worldwide) HAM: A Musical Memoir (Global Digital Releasing) In the Mood for Love (4k Restoration)

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or drop me a note or tweet on Twitter. I love hearing from readers … honest!

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

Possible Excerpt from Had Enough: The Dreamsight Remix

Summary, the tag to follow

Around half-past twelve someone stopped at the door with something heavy on wheels. When the door opened it was to a large cart full of sweets that Harry had absolutely no reference for.

“Anything off the trolley, dear?”

Despite having a really good omelet for breakfast, he was craving chocolate something fierce. Besides, this was Magic food. Who knew when he would be able to try this stuff again?!

Deciding that he could be picky about what he actually ate later, Harry got two of everything. If he didn’t want it then Ron might. Or maybe someone else would. It was eleven sickles and seven knuts.

Ron stared at the mound of candy Harry brought back and tipped onto the seats.

“You can’t possibly eat all that.” He gasped.

“Depends on how hungry I am. Take what you want, I’m craving chocolate.”

Ron shook his head, holding up a wrapped package that was vaguely square-shaped. Opening it revealed sandwiches, and opening one of those made both Harry Ron wrinkle their noses.

“This is Percy’s lunch.” He groaned. “Or George’s. They both love corned beef. My favorites are egg and cress or egg banjo.”

The Dursleys didn’t like either of those so Harry had never had them before, but he knew that people liked their eggs in various states of cooked, so he just nodded along.

“I had an omelet for breakfast.” Harry offered. “But like I said, take what you like.”

“Mum’s usually better about the sandwiches. I guess she was a bit more harried now that most of us are off to school. I can’t imagine what she’ll be like next year.”

“She seems nice.” Harry mused warily, wondering just how well the Weasleys could claim to know the Potters. Did they see him when he was younger like his parents’ other friends?

“She’s nice,” Ron emphasized. “But Fred and George have been on me about my first year, telling me all sorts of weird things. She’s been a bit more strained this year.”

“Well, older brothers are weird.” Harry snorted. “Sometimes they give you good advice, but sometimes they sit back and watch you flail.”

Better Jaime than Dudley, though.

Ron agreed with Harry’s sentiment and the pair worked their way through the pile of sweets. Ron liked the sticky stuff, like jelly beans and licorice. He explained various charms on certain snacks, like how some of the beans were flavored to taste like actual liver. Something he learned the hard way after spitting one out and taking a large swig of a water bottle Harry gave him.

The chocolate frogs moved. That scared Harry but once the chocolate hit his teeth it stopped. He wasn’t eating actual frogs dipped in chocolate, it was just an enchantment.

“What card did you get?” Ron asked.

“Card?” Harry asked. “What-?” He wrinkled the package and flipped it upside down. “Oh, you mean this?”

A small trading card that reminded him strongly of Jaime’s football cards fell into his palm.

“They’re famous Magicians,” Ron said. “I’ve got about five hundred but there are a few, in particular, I’m looking for. What’s yours say?”

Harry scanned the card and Dumbledore’s face looked back at him. This was the first time Harry saw even a picture of the man in the real world after seeing and hearing so much about him from the dreams. His nose definitely looked like it hadn’t been set straight, his hair and beard were longer than the card and a fine white, and his glasses sat on his nose in a way Harry could never get his to do. Probably because his were smaller. Did he need them to see regularly or if they were just reading glasses? Did Magicians have prescriptions or did everyone just fix their eyes?

“Dumbledore,” Harry said, wondering why the picture took up the whole front of the card. Flipping it over got him the words he was looking for.

“Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many to be the greatest magician of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark magician Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and for his work on alchemy with his mentor, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling.”

The last part made Harry laugh. He wasn’t very good at bowling but there was an alley nearby and the Alfers took him enough that he could imagine this old man hurling a fourteen-pound ball down the slick lanes set up at an alley. Harry wondered if Dumbledore had a setup in that office of his.

“I haven’t got Agrippa yet!” Ron complained. Harry glanced up and saw that Ron was onto his fourth one. He had three cards to show for it and was happy to give them to his new friend. Harry tucked them into his pocket, resolving to look at them later. He tried another two, biting the heads off fiercely to still them, and saw Merlin and someone called Cliodna. They, too, went in his pockets. Ron grumbled about a green jelly bean that turned out to be a sprout of some kind and held out the bag, which was now a third of the way gone. Harry took several, picking through the colors that looked the most harmless and chewing slowly. They turned out to be toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, which reminded Harry of the smell of anchovies, and Ron gave him one that he’d eyed warily. Harry only sneezed at it because it was pepper.

The scenery changed from flat fields to a forest of green, winding rivers, and hills the height of the train.

Someone knocked on the door and Harry said “not yet.” as he shoved the empty candy wrappers into a pile on the floor and moved the rest onto the seat beside Ron.

“Come in,” He said.

Neville Longbottom had a circular head and wide grey eyes that were puffy with tears He wiped his face with his sleeve, robed in the black Hogwarts gown, and spoke.

“Have you seen a toad at all?” He asked. Harry and Ron both shook our heads.

“I’ve lost him!” Neville wailed. “He keeps slipping away!”

“Maybe it will help if you ask an older student to bring the toad to you.” Harry mused aloud.

“Bring Trevor… how would anyone do that?”

“There’s a way to summon things,” Harry muttered, now irritated that he didn’t remember the word. “Can’t remember it for anything. Sorry.”

“Thanks anyway. I’ll see if anyone else knows.”

Neville closed the door and Ron snorted.

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered.” Ron snickered. “If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quick as I could.”

“At least a toad’s on the pet list.” Harry ground out, glaring at Scabbers. The rat didn’t so much as twitch in Ron’s lap.

“Yeah, yeah, I can’t talk since I brought Scabbers,” Ron grumbled. He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference.”

“You’d notice the smell eventually,” Harry offered darkly. This rat didn’t know just how much Harry wanted him to die.

“I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting but the spell didn’t work. Want to see?”

Harry nodded, hoping something bad would happen to the git instead.

Ron rifled through his trunk and yanked out a wand that was practically falling apart. It was chipped in places and something white glistened at the end. Upon seeing Harry’s face, Ron grimaced.

“Charlie’s old wand, remember? He’s second-oldest.”

Which meant that wand had seen seven years of use. Possibly more, with how battered it looked.

“Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. Anyway-.”

“I’m not sure you should use that wand.” Harry offered quickly, going through his own bag and handing him the one he’d gotten from Ollivander. Ron took it reverently and with a stunned look on his face.

“What?” Harry asked, wondering if he’d done something wrong.

“People don’t give each other wands unless they’re family,” Ron explained. “A wand is an extension of yourself. I’m lucky enough that Charlie’s wand works on me, that’s the only reason I’ve got it. I… I can’t-.”

“I would rather you try something with that one than get hurt because you need a new wand, Ron. It’s just one try. Go on.”

Ron twitched his hand in a jerky manner and said what sounded like a nursery rhyme.

“Sunshine daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow.” He scowled.

Harry noticed that those were all yellow things, so if magic was about intent like some of the books he’d read insisted, there was a slight chance of it working.

The rat was still very much asleep and Harry couldn’t tell if his fur had changed.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” A new voice asked loudly. A girl in Hogwarts robes with bushy brown hair had opened the compartment door. Neville stood not far behind her.

“Intent plays a pretty big part in magic.” Harry found himself saying. “It could be the spell, it could be that he’s not using his own wand, it could be that the magic isn’t strong enough. One thing in the spell’s favor is that there are three things already yellow in it. Try again, Ron, but think of it this way: what would your rat look like if he were as bright as a dandelion?”

Ron nodded seriously and tried again. Scabbers’ fur took on a weird tinge that was more than the grey it usually was.

“Thanks, Harry.”

“Anyway, I was going to ask you what you meant when you told Neville about a summoning charm? He asked me about it but I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Which is why I said to find an older student. Why don’t I go with you? Ask the boy if he’d be okay sitting with my friend, Ron.”

Hermione stared at Harry with a stern look on her face but did it anyway. She and Neville came into the compartment and Neville introduced himself.

“Neville Longbottom,” He said gratefully. “Thanks for helping me find my toad.”

“Pets are wanderers.” Harry offered, not really knowing why he said that. “C’mon, you-.”

“Hermione Granger.”

“C’mon, Granger. We’re going to find an older student.”

“Why me and you? Neville’s the one who lost his toad.”

Because she was annoying Ron and Harry didn’t trust her and Neville not to get lost or distracted again. It was a lot better this way, not that she’d ever know.

“We’re more likely to get results.” Is all he said in response. Harry knocked on a random compartment and waited for a raspy “come in.” before opening it. Inside sat four kids, one of whom he’d met before.

“Hello, Hufflepuff.”

“Good day, Slytherin-wannabe.” Harry snorted. “Malfoy, right?”

“Yes. And you are?” The girl beside him scowled.

“Not important. Would any of you happen to know a way to summon things to you?”

“There’s a summoning charm.” The girl said. “My mother used it all the time when we packed for Hogwarts. Say Accio and imagine what you want. Mum says it’s got to be clear in your mind.”

“Thanks.”

“Say, Hufflepuff, you never gave us your name.”

“You’ll find out at the Sorting, won’t you?” Harry snorted.

“Sure, but-.”

“Friends call me Wolf,” Harry said. “We’ll see if you get that far after the Sorting.”

“I look forward to collecting on that debt.” Malfoy sneered.

“We’ll see about that, too.” Harry chirped knowingly. He had resolved to be in whatever House Hermione ended up in. Hopefully, that would be Gryffindor.

The compartment door shut behind them and Hermione tapped Harry’s shoulder as they started walking again.

“What was that?” She demanded.

“I met Malfoy at a robe shop. We bet on which House I’ll end up in because he’s so convinced he’ll be in Slytherin.”

“Well, why wouldn’t he?”

“Because he was gullible enough to take me up on that bet.” Harry deadpanned. “But he’s small potatoes. We need to find someone who knows the Summoning Charm.”

“That’d be me,” A familiar voice crowed.

“Or me.” An eerily similar one chirped. The Weasley twins had popped out of absolutely nowhere and Harry was lucky he didn’t flinch and hit one of them. He was getting better at that.

“Hey Fred, hi George.” He grinned at them both. “Follow me, we’re heading back to my compartment now.

“What could the ickle firsties need a Summoning Charm for?” Fred queried.

“We’re looking for a friend’s pet.”

“Ah, and who gave you the idea to use that spell?” George wondered.

“I remembered seeing it in a book I read but couldn’t remember the name.”

“That’s quite alright, my friend because we definitely do!” George offered. “What’s the toad’s name?”

“I guess we’ll find out once we get back to the compartment. That’s where our friends are.”

“Aw, has ickle Ronnie made a friend already?”

“He’s pretty cool,” Harry said defensively. “He turned his rat a bit yellow with that dud spell you gave him.”

“With Charlie’s wand?” Fred asked incredulously.

“God, no,” Harry scoffed. “I gave him mine. And he can keep it until we get to school.”

“No, he can’t.” George insisted.

“I’m the wand’s owner. I’m saying he can.”

“Because you don’t know how wands work. He’ll be giving it right back when we get to that compartment.”

“It’s my wand.”

“Exactly,” Fred said seriously. “And you don’t know how much it means to just give it away to some nobody.”

“Ron isn’t nobody!” Harry spat, yanking open the compartment door. “He wanted to try a spell and I thought it’d be better if he did it with something that wouldn’t poke our eyes out!”

“Alright,” George said suddenly. “It’s alright. You weren’t… wrong to give Ron your wand, but it’s not often done between strangers. A Magician’s wand is seen as an extension of the self. It’d be like chopping off a finger to lend to a friend.”

Bad comparison considering Scabbers was within hearing distance.

“Alright.” Harry snorted. “But it kind of worked. Now, can you do the Summoning Charm or not?”

“Of course What’s your toad’s name?”

“Trevor.” Neville stammered.

George took out his wand and at Fred’s nod, spoke the phrase:

“Accio Trevor the Toad.”

A sound not unlike the wind filled the train and when Fred stepped aside, Trevor came straight into Neville’s hands.

“Now, you should keep your toad on you.” Fred insisted. “Here,” The ginger twin held out an empty brown sack that Harry snagged from them with a grateful nod and tipped over. Nothing came out on his palm and Harry felt nothing but cloth when he stuck his hand in it. Harry passed it to Neville and he slipped Trevor into the bag and drew it semi-closed.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Neville Longbottom.” Neville stammered out. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Neville, good luck with your toad.” George offered.

The twins left and the four students settled into the seats in the compartment. Harry noticed the candy was gone, likely stuffed into a bag.

“What was all that about wands?” Hermione asked. “And did you honestly make a bet with another student?”

“I let Ron use my wand for a spell earlier. His brothers took exception to that.” Harry scowled. “It doesn’t matter as much to me, but they did. I just don’t think Ron should be using the wand he was given by his family.”

“Why?” Neville wondered. “My grandmother gave me my Dad’s wand. It works well enough for me.”

“Well, are you and your father exactly alike?”

“Gran sure hopes so.”

“Even identical twins, like Fred and George, aren’t. It’s good that your wands are compatible, but that’s probably because you’re family with the people who have already used it.”

“You sure are taking this seriously.” Ron noticed.

So Harry told him about the trip to Ollivander’s, about how it felt like a million wands to go through, about how the holly wands had been compatible but not exactly right, and Ollivander had insisted that Harry keep trying.

“I felt wretched after a huge pile of wands that didn’t work or barely produced a spark. You’ll be a lot better off with a wand that fits you.”

“Well, the spell worked with your wand. Who’s to say it wouldn’t have worked with Charlie’s?”

“I guess we aren’t to say.” Hermione offered. “But maybe the teachers at school can tell us. Speaking of spells, I’ve tried a few, just for practice, and they all worked for me. Nobody in my family is magic at all, so it was quite a shock to get an owl on our window!”

“I was lucky enough that my aunt knew something of it,” Harry admitted, glad he didn’t stutter over the not-quite-lie. “I honestly called it Hogwash when I first got the letter. Non-Magicians don’t know all this exists and I was no exception.”

“But you’re a magician.” Ron insisted.

“So’s Hermione. Doesn’t mean we knew about it beforehand.” He said.

“Fair enough. Say, Mum said she and Dad knew your family, but you never did say your last name.”

“It’s bad enough you know my first name. Just call me Wolf. Everyone will if I have any say on it.”

“Can we guess?”

“If you want. Harry is a common name.”

“Sure is, but you underestimate how few kids there are this year.” Neville offered.

“Why’s that?” Harry asked, wondering how much of this would match up with the dreams he’d been having.

“Goodness, you don’t know?” Hermione gasped. “The Magicians had a war amongst themselves. It’s in every book I could get my hands on. There was this Dark Lord everyone calls You-Know-Who and he came out of basically nowhere and was all anti-humans and so the Magical World split itself up into his followers and his opponents. Apparently, he was defeated by a couple of young Magicians who left behind their baby boy. Now the kid’s known as the Boy-Who-Lived so he and his parents are celebrated every Halloween.”

“Why Halloween?” Harry prompted knowingly.

“Because that’s when they died,” Neville mumbled.

At least some parts of the story changed.

“It’s in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Magical Events of the Twentieth Century,” Hermione reported.

“I’ll pick those up, I guess.” Harry offered, kind of interested now. “What did they do?”

“Who?”

“The young Magicians. What did they do for a living?”

“You mean once they got out of school? They fought in the war.” Neville said. “They knew my parents rather well, or so my grandmother says.”

“Do you think they got a chance to do anything once they got out of school?” Harry asked. “What is there to do once you get out of school?”

“Well… I don’t think so.” Ron offered. “My Mum and Dad fought against You-Know-Who as well, and Dad said he got his job at the Ministry after the war.”

“Huh,” Harry said, a bit shocked.

“As for what there is to do, my two oldest brothers are Bill and Charlie. Charlie handles dragons in Romania-.”

“Okay, that is so cool.” Harry blurted out.

“And Bill’s in Africa doing something for one of the Gringotts branches there.”

“Where?”

“What?”

“Where in Africa? That’s a whole continent. It’d be like saying ‘Oh, he lives in Europe.’ as opposed to saying Spain or Italy.”

“Fair enough. I think he does work in Egypt. There’s a lot of stuff Magical stuff in Egypt. It’s only fair that Gringotts would want to know what.”

“Speaking of Gringotts,” Neville spoke suddenly. “You guys haven’t gone there too recently, have you?”

“I went about a month ago.” Harry offered. “McGonagall took me.”

Hermione confirmed the same and Ron said that his father went before Harry and the Alfers did.

“What’s got you so spooked?” Harry asked.

“Someone tried to rob a high-security vault,” Ron announced.

“At Gringotts?” Harry coughed. “The bank full of non-human magical creatures, mostly elves, and no one gets in or out unless they say so?”

“There’s more than just elves,” Hermione said suddenly. “I saw dwarves as well.”

“Cool. What happened to the unlucky bastard who tried to pull that off?”

“Nothing. Nobody got caught. My dad says they must have been a powerful Dark Magician to pull that off, but there wasn’t any mention of what was stolen.”

“Perhaps Gringotts is trying to investigate for themselves.” Hermione offered. “I know that regular banks do that. They work with the police sometimes.”

“Maybe.” Ron agreed. “But everyone wants to know. They’re all scared when something big happens since it could be related to You-Know-Who.”

“Related to the guy who was defeated by two Magicians fresh out of school and maybe half his age?” Harry drawled.

“Well, no one knows where he went.” Ron insisted defensively. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not find out.”

We would if Voldemort was Quirrell. But Harry couldn’t tell them that.

“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron prompted in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“What’s Quidditch?” Hermione asked.

Ron burst into a rousing speech of the game played on broomsticks. It was a long explanation of how seven players hauled four balls between them. Ron talked about everything he knew, from famous games to games he’d been to and the most coveted broomsticks of the year.

Neville inserted a few of his own opinions and eventually, the boys were debating the best teams while Harry and Hermione stared at them. She was likely just as confused as Harry was. He’d seen some things about Quidditch in his dreams and dream-Harry had definitely liked the sport, but Harry was a bit too focused on all the tragedies happening around him to focus on the school’s sport.

A voice echoed through the train, calling ten minutes to Hogwarts and not to worry about their bags. Ron and Neville jerked to their feet mid-argument.

“C’mon, Wolf, let’s let Hermione change, and then we’ll get changed.” Ron offered, dragging Neville and Harry out of the compartment without so much as missing a beat in his explanation of why the Chudley Canons might go onto the Quidditch World Cup in three years.

When Hermione was done, they switched places, with her waiting just outside the compartment as Neville showed Harry and Ron how to wear their robes properly.

The robes draped down to Harry’s feet and Ron’s almost did the same.

The train eventually stopped and the four of them were swept along with the crowd that pushed off the train and onto a small nearly pitch-black platform. Harry fought the urge to shiver, wishing he’d gotten Jaime to tell him the heating charm people used on their clothes. He’d find it in some books, he was sure, but it would be extremely useful now.

A lamp bounced up and down like a tight-knit group of fireflies above our heads, cutting through some of the gloom. With it came a large booming voice.

“First-years, this way!” A man’s roar parted the crowd like the Red Sea. “First-years follow me!”

The path was slick with mossy water, steep and narrow enough that we had to file after the large man one-by-one. Harry was honestly surprised that the man, who must be Hagrid based on his massive stature and gruff-growly voice, was able to keep his balance as he guided them up what felt like a mountain. Rock-climbing at the nearby gym had offered Harry enough chances that he could say with complete honesty that they were definitely climbing a mountain.

It was just as steep and narrow with just as many chances to fall and send everyone tumbling down before or after him. What’s worse is that they stumbled forward in complete darkness. Harry had to rely on his sense of direction, which was practically nothing, to make sure he wasn’t bumping into anyone. Luckily, the people around him were people he figured wouldn’t be too terrible about his flailing. He hoped.

“Hogwarts School of Magic coming right up!” Hagrid called eagerly. “Just around the bend here!”

Sure enough, the kids who were further ahead were shouting in excitement. When the kids closest to Harry got to the end of the path, everyone stood before a large black lake that, if it weren’t for the occasional ripple, he wouldn’t be able to tell the water from the inky darkness. What he could tell is that he was right about being in the mountains.

On the other side of the lake, a lot higher than where he stood now was a massive spanning castle. Its windows sparkled like glittering eyes among the darkness and for each ground-level window was a string of lights higher than he could crane his neck. The outline of the castle followed shortly after, once his eyes adjusted, revealing that some of the glittering lights were indeed the stars above the windows.

“No more than four to a boat!” Hagrid called, jerking Harry out of his stupor. He swung the lantern toward a fleet of small boats sitting in the water by the shore. Ron, Neville, Hermione, and Harry went to a boat. Hagrid swept through the crowd to make sure everyone got to a boat and bellowed for the boats to move.

And move they did. Harry knows magic has to have a lot of intent behind it but does this work on anyone? Could he move the boats if he knew the words? Was it a job only for Hagrid? Because these were a lot of boats and since Hagrid is pretty big, Harry bet he could do it but-.

“That’s a lot of questions, Wolf.” Neville offered, wide-eyed. “With a mind like that, you’ll get into Ravenclaw for sure.”

It doesn’t matter what House he gets into. He’ll be doing enough exploring to know them all. He couldn’t afford to miss something just because he was too wrapped up in what he thought he knew.

“Heads down!” Hagrid’s voice carried well over the water and Harry ducked instinctively, as did the other three.

They were sailing along the face of a giant cliff and the reason they were told to duck is to go through it, a tunnel introduced by a curtain of ivy. The tunnel was just as dark as the steep mossy mountain-path that had brought the students to the boats and the way things echoed made him think they were underground. The boat ride ended underground as well, and Harry followed the others on a passageway that was seemingly carved from the cliffside.

The students walked for a while, with the only thing Harry could see ahead being Hagrid’s lamp until his feet met damp flattened grass of a courtyard in the shadow of the castle. Finally, they reached the door, a tall solid sprawling tree of a thing that rumbled against Harry’s feet when Hagrid knocked on it.

[tacitusauxilium]

Angst/Comfort/Fluff Marie/Fuuka drabble for mun

Marie rolled her eyes, as she watched Shinjiro and Fuuka argue again, finish with nothing resolved (as usual), and Shinjiro leaving their apartment, with Fuuka moping. Every week they argue about the same thing. Shinjiro’s kidneys and liver are failing, thanks to the pills from Takaya, and he’s insistent on not doing anything about it. Meaning he’d die. And he’s oddly content with that. Fuuka well, isn’t.

She honestly wondered for a while what did Fuuka see in him? Cause all he brings is headaches. Fuuka and her are rooming, and Shinjiro, while being Fuuka’s boyfriend, didn’t tend to stay; mostly because Marie managed to make him leave.

Marie doesn’t hate Shinjiro. When he’s not in his brooding moods, he can be someone worthwhile to talk to. But whenever he’s brooding (which is…a lot, unfortunately), he’s just intolerable, and she’s talked about it with Fuuka before. To no surprise, Fuuka insists on ‘changing him’.

Marie blatantly told her “Teal, you don’t change people like him. They’re damaged goods.”

Just hearing those words almost made Fuuka slap Marie. She held back…on principle. “You don’t know him Marie-chan.”

Marie rolled her eyes, almost tempted to scoff. “Yeah Teal. I do. We both know it’s an excuse, because you don’t want to admit that-“

“-It’s late, and I don’t want to discuss this.” Fuuka was quick to interrupt, though Marie could see Fuuka vividly shaking, and nearly holding back from tearing up. “So, if you EXCUSE ME Marie-chan.” Fuuka stormed off and slammed the door to her room shut and locked it.

Marie sighed. She rubbed her temples, annoyed. ‘For all your genius Teal, you can be incredibly naïve…you don’t ‘fix’ people. End of story.’

Fuuka didn’t talk to her for a week, and even then, conversations weren’t long. Marie was honestly getting sick of the cold shoulder treatment. She wasn’t the villain in this, and she didn’t have to take this treatment from Fuuka. She can love Shinjiro all she wants, but ‘fixing’ him is not something she’s obligated to do in the first place. If he wants to die, that’s on him, not her.

“Teal, I want to talk.”

“Not now Marie-chan.”

Oh, she knows that tone. The ‘I know where this is going, and I don’t want it’ tone. Too bad Marie is having none of that today.

Before Fuuka could enter her room, Marie flicked her fingers. A strong gust of wind shut the door. “I’m not giving you an option.” Marie spoke colder this time. She motions to the sofa.

Fuuka was tempted to tell her no. Out of daring, she tried to open the door to her room. Locked. …Must have locked it with the wind.

Defeated, and slightly angered, Fuuka storms to the sofa and sits, glaring at Marie. “What is it Marie-chan?” the irritation in her voice practically screams ‘get over with it already.’

Marie decided to just get to the point. “We didn’t finish the discussion last week. You know, the one you cut me off cause ‘you didn’t want to discuss it’.”

Fuuka nods “Well there you go; I don’t want to discuss.” Of course, Marie would bring that up. Fuuka didn’t want to hear whatever Marie has to say. Its not her problem to begin with.

“Well I do.” Marie deadpanned, tempted to do a mocking tone. She held back. “Because I’m worried-“

“Oh, NOW you’re concerned?” Fuuka retorts before Marie can even finish; and rather angrily at that. “Because last I checked, Shinjiro-kun is not YOUR boyfriend.”

Marie didn’t care for the glare, and only crosses her arms in return. “Worried about YOU, Teal. Not him. YOU.”

Fuuka grimaced, partially guilty for snapping like that…but still on-edge. “I’m doing fine Marie-chan.”

“Except that you’re not.” Marie rebuts. “You’re more exhausted than you’ve ever been, and I know its not because of Crimson. She works you hard, but not hard enough to literally zap away the enthusiasm out of you. You force yourself to eat, and sometimes you even forget to bathe. I have to freaking remind you. You’re not adulting very well Teal.”

Fuuka bit her lip, knowing where this was going. “And I thank you for that Marie-chan, but I’m doing-“

“You need to drop the ‘fix’ act on Hobo, or just dump him.”

And there it is. The smoking gun that Fuuka didn’t want to hear. Fuuka trembled, the anger inside her, the stress and anxiety from the last few weeks of arguing with Shinjiro, Mitsuru’s constant work stress, Marie’s nagging…its all started to boil inside her in an ugly way.

Between wanting to throw something at Marie (the jar right now looks tempting), and tackling her, Fuuka decided to not…do either of those. She just glared at Marie harder, practically fuming. “My relationship with Shinjiro is not your business Marie-chan. Stay out of it.” That last part came out more as a threat than anything else.”  

But Marie wasn’t going to have any of Fuuka’s excuses, or empty threats as is. The situation is at its breaking limit, and if Marie can’t make Fuuka understand now, then she never will. “Except that it is.” Marie deadpanned, not fazed by Fuuka’s mild attempt at a threat. “We’re roommates in case you forgot. We have each other’s backs, and if someone is falling, we help the other back up. And right now- “ Marie points at Fuuka “You Teal, are gonna hit the floor hard by taking on more than you can handle.”

Not that Fuuka wanted to be touched by Marie’s words, but right now her distress and anger are clouding that, sadly. “Well maybe if I could help Shinjiro with-“

“There’s no helping damaged goods Teal.”

SNAP

Those words again. Those damn words Fuuka has heard about Shinjiro from so many people. She didn’t want to believe Marie would say them too. She didn’t want to think that Marie would be on their side, and not hers.

She was wrong all along. Marie sees Shinjiro like everyone else does, not like she does; and she hates that so much.

“HE IS NOT DAMAGED GOODS!” Fuuka didn’t even realize how loud she yelled that. The tears that have been welling up inside her, escape like a dam leaking as she stood up to stand tall over Marie. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HIM LIKE I DO MARIE-CHAN, NONE OF YOU FREAKING DO, OR EVEN TRY TO! YOU ALL JUST JUDGE HIM CAUSE NONE OF YOU HAVE TO DEAL WITH WHAT HE DOES! HE NEEDS HELP MY HELP!”

Marie certainly wasn’t expecting Fuuka to blow up. It was worse than she thought, but at the same time, it has to be done. “Cause there’s nothing to understand!”

“YES, THERE IS!” Fuuka’s practically bawling now. In sadness, in rage, in loss of being heard. Not that there was anything to be heard, but Fuuka didn’t want to admit that. “SHINJIRO-“

‘-Is a grown man.” Marie finished. “He’s 22 years old. He’s an adult.” Marie stands up, not intimidated by Fuuka of all people. “He can take care of himself and his own problems, and if he doesn’t want your help, the best you can do is respect his decision, instead of forcing yourself in. Because as you said Teal, he’s your boyfriend. You’re not his mother, you don’t have to dote his every decision or criticize his every action. You can talk to him about it, but he has to make the decision himself on what he wants to do.” Marie pauses for a moment, noticing that her words are having an effect on Fuuka. Her anger is leaving her; and reasoning is hitting hard. “…If he doesn’t want to do the organ transplant to save his liver and kidney’s Teal, then that’s…his decision, even if it means him dying.” She slowly, carefully walks over to Fuuka. She stopped crying, but the dam is certainly not done leaking.

“It doesn’t mean you failed as his girlfriend.”

Fuuka knew, deep down that every word Marie said was the truth. The cold, hard, harsh truth that she wanted to deny for so long. When she learned of Shinjiro’s condition, she just told him to get the organ transplant, problem solved. But he refused. Fuuka honestly believed that he was simply scared; and with some light pushing and motivations. But that only made Shinjiro more aggressive, and Fuuka couldn’t comprehend why. Why wouldn’t he want to live? Sure, he’d be bedridden for a few weeks, but it wouldn’t be anything serious.

Then in one of their arguments, he dropped it. Miki Sanada.

15 years. 15 years, and despite everything, every effort to move forward…Shinjiro fell back to step 1. He can’t let go, he REFUSES to let go, and their arguments the last few weeks have been about that. But every, one of them ended in failure for Fuuka.

Shinjiro can’t let go. End of story. Fuuka adamantly refused to accept that, with every fiber of her being and hoped to smash common freaking sense into Shinjiro. She tried, tried, and tried again. Against Mitsuru’s complacency, against Akihiko’s acceptance, against Yukari’s pity…

Against Marie’s truth.

That wasn’t the case. She couldn’t…because Shinjiro wouldn’t accept that. Not then, not now…possibly not ever.

Shinjiro would have a year to live, and that was it. Nothing else to discuss except his funeral arrangements.

Fuuka could see it now, see it happen, see it go, and see it fade. Her dreams, her future, her wishes.

Marie held onto Fuuka as she finally let go, and sobbed loudly onto her arms, hugging her roommate and dear friend for dear life. Marie sighed, wishing it hadn’t come to this…but it did. For all odds, for all the bridges built…all for nothing.

About 10 minutes later, Fuuka fell asleep on Marie’s arms. Marie carefully lifts her and carries her back to her room (after opening the door with the wind of course). She tucked Fuuka in, and let her sleep…

About 4 hours later in the evening, Marie heard the shower turn on…must be Fuuka. She had already bathed and is watching TV, clad in a simple long shirt that reaches her thighs and underwear.

Minutes later, Fuuka sits next to her, wearing a nightgown and underwear. Her hair is also loosened, not braided like usual. “…Hi…” Fuuka shyly spoke.

“Hey.” Marie greets her normally. “Sleep well?”

Fuuka nodded. “Uhu…thank you…Marie-chan. For earlier.”

Marie raised an eyebrow. “You’re thanking me? You were pretty angry.”

“…I kind of am…still.” Fuuka sighed, hands on her lap. “But not at you…rather at me. …You were right, about everything.” She sniffed. “I hate feeling this way…so helpless, worse…knowing you want to help but the help is not accepted.” She looks at Marie, a despondent gaze over her normally starry teal eyes. “…Ever since I can remember, I wanted someone, anyone to accept me. Not as a lover, but as a friend, a companion, to never leave me alone. Shinjiro…” she bit her lip “I-I thought…I felt…” she raised her hand and gripped her chest; heart still aching. “…I wanted a family…” she nearly broke again when she said that.

“…But now that’s impossible.” Marie finished for her. However, Fuuka shook her head.

“I didn’t mention it before, but in one of our arguments…Shinjiro plain told me, that he didn’t want to be a father.” A few tears left her. “I was so hurt…I slapped him.” She confessed. “It was the first time I did that. He didn’t even react. He just walked away…and I hated that. I wish he had said something, dome something, even slap me back, I didn’t care. I just…” Fuuka gritted her teeth. “I wanted him to acknowledge that there was something between us, and I wasn’t just his…fuck toy!” she yelled. “But nothing…! And I just…” she sniffed, wiping away her tears “I thought I emptied myself out…”

She’s surprised when Marie hands her a handkerchief. “You never truly do.” She smiles at her. “The pain doesn’t go away after a few hours Teal. You’ll heal…in due time. With words, with action, with acceptance. You kind of did the last one.”

“…kind of.” Fuuka smiles back, blushing slightly as she takes the handkerchief, and wipes away her tears…and blows her nose. “Better…” she sniffs. “Much better.” Awkwardly, she looks at the handkerchief, then at Marie.

“Hamper.” Marie deadpanned. Fuuka nodded, not arguing there that’s for sure. “So, what do you want to do?”

“…I…” Fuuka frowned. “…I want to talk to him one last time. If…if he really wants this…then that will be it. I’ll break up with him, and I’ll respect his decision. …But that doesn’t mean I will stand by him. This is his path to take, and I guess…I’ll walk my path; with or without him. I’ll…endure.” At least, Fuuka lied to herself, for now. She’s still in pain after all. “I…kinda wanna drink something, and just go back to bed.”

Marie nodded. “Sure. Go ahead Teal, I’ll go to sleep a little later.”

“…Mm…yeah.” Fuuka folded the handkerchief and stared at it. “…You know Marie-chan…you’ve been good to me.” She looks at her. “You listen to me rant, you let me scream at you, but you don’t disrespect me. You understand, you listen…” she blushed. “…I’m happy to have you as a roommate, and a friend.” She reached out to Marie and hugged her. “…It means a lot to me that you have stayed, more than words can possibly say.”

The hug surprised Marie, but she wasn’t in any position to argue. She returns the hug, sighing. “You’re welcome Teal, anytime.”

“Mmm…” Fuuka nuzzled onto Marie, adoring her warmth right now, and her faint scent of blueberry, her favorite fruit. “…Marie-chan…?”

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you.” Fuuka looked up to Marie, eyes shining with the moon. She did something she didn’t think she would do. She pressed her lips onto Marie’s softly. A kiss…warm, tender…it filled Fuuka with a desire she long missed, needed. She pulled back, blushing. “…I-I mean it…” she said shyly, not believing she even did that. What possessed her to do that?

Marie certainly didn’t know and didn’t want to ask…mostly because she gets the feeling that Fuuka is not in her right mind right now and is looking for warmth. Best she can do is give it…for now, at least until Fuuka can stand up again. Until she can heal. She can be that healing potion.

Not that Fuuka is her first kiss with a girl, but that’s a story for another time. Marie let Fuuka nuzzle her, cuddle her…until Marie heard Fuuka’s light snores.

Chuckling, Marie carefully lifted Fuuka, and brought her back to her room. This time however, she closed the door behind her (after turning all the lights off), and carefully drops Fuuka on the bed. She tucks herself in with Fuuka (Who hasn’t let go of Marie), and watches Fuuka sleep peacefully. If Marie was certain, this is the most peaceful sleep Fuuka has had in a while.

Marie pressed her lips on Fuuka’s forehead. “Sweet dreams Teal…” Marie whispered, and closed her eyes, embracing Fuuka in return. Its been a long day, and both girls need their rest, for what will come tomorrow.

…………………………..

Fuuka and Marie spent a long night together…

[birdscreeches]

Are You Telling The Truth? | Aisha R.

In sixth grade, I accidentally stole a fire extinguisher. It was lunch time. I was in school. I found myself loitering on the second floor hallway, right outside the library, where I was headed, when I found myself enraptured. Right ahead of me, there was a panel in the wall. Inside the panel was a fire extinguisher. It was a panel that was usually covered by glass, but on that day, the glass was gone, leaving the fire extinguisher out in the open. At this point in my life, I was incredibly interested in fire extinguishers. I was going through a phase of picking random objects and reading about them extensively, from neon lights to lithium ion batteries to alligator snapping turtles. On that week, it was fire extinguishers, and the one in the panel was too great a temptation to resist.

I walked forward. Nobody was in the hallway. I stood in front of the panel. There were no other footsteps. I reached out, picked up the fire extinguisher, and felt the kind of inexorable glee only an eleven year old could feel upon holding the thing I had been reading about for days. I held the fire extinguisher in my hands, feeling the cold metal against my palms. That moment was one suspended in childlike awe.

The spell was broken when I heard somebody yell my name, “Ms. Rallonza!”

There was nobody in the hallway, but I had neglected to remember that this second floor hallway was directly across from another building filled with classrooms and ongoing classes. In one of those classrooms, an entire class and my old science teacher were watching me. My fight or flight instincts kicked in, and since there was nobody to fight, I ran. With the fire extinguisher still in my hands.

This is a story I tell a lot of people. Sometimes, I include the epilogue where I have to return the fire extinguisher and apologize to my teacher, but at its core, it’s a silly story. It’s the perfect mix of my impulsivity, my tendency to fixate on random objects, and my knack of shutting down reasonable thinking in a crisis. All of these elements crashed into an anecdote ridiculous enough to keep telling but mundane enough to not really matter. Initial embarrassment aside, it was the perfect story. Or it would have been, if the story were actually true.

Most parts of it were true. The setting, the fascination with fire extinguishers, the not-there glass panel, the getting yelled at. That’s around 99%. The only lie was the bit where I picked the fire extinguisher up and ran away with it. In reality, I walked over to the panel, reached for the fire extinguisher, got yelled at, and then ran away. That’s all. From one version to the other, I always thought it barely made a difference. This version certainly was more interesting, and in the grand scheme of things, it was just one wrong detail in an otherwise correct telling of events. It didn’t matter, so I told the story again, and again, and again. I had told it so many times with that wrong detail that I often forget it didn’t really happen, that I myself can sometimes remember the weight of the fire extinguisher in my hands as if it did.

My habit of lying started early, when I was a kid. From then on, I grew up getting called out for those lies. Nanay always told me I was a terrible liar. No matter what it was, from “I didn’t break it” to “I passed my math quiz”, she could always tell, and from there, she’d pull the truth out of me. Honesty is the best policy, echoed my memories of kindergarten, and I assume this was the goal of getting called out for lies, but it didn’t work with me. Instead of not lying, I just told myself to get better at it. Don’t fidget, don’t look away, don’t let your voice waver. Talk like you believe the lie just as much as you want other people to believe it too. I don’t know if I really got better or if Nanay just got tired of telling me off for it, but I never stopped. Not once.

In my defense, I only lied about things that didn’t matter. Never anything big or sincere like apologies or I love yous. I lied about the small things, like if did my homework or if I unintentionally stole a fire extinguisher. A habit that started in childhood followed me up until now. I lie about small things the same way I talk; naturally, unthinkingly, one word after the other, unbidden. A lot of the time, I don’t realize I’m lying because of how easy it is. Things that don’t matter slip off the tongue effortlessly.

So a few months ago, when my guidance counselor asked me if I regularly think about killing myself, I didn’t fidget, I didn’t look away, and I held my voice strong. As far as “no”s go, I thought that one was pretty good.

-

In Leslie Rubinkowski’s essay, “In the Woods,” she writes, “The smaller a lie is the harder I scramble to expose it. Because one tiny lie slides past and then bigger ones follow and then rot sets in and then everything flies apart [...]”

It’s important to note that Rubinkowski is writing from the perspective opposite to my own. From the one being lied to. Her grandfather had always told her odd stories, she became a reporter and valued the truth, she went out of her way to expose fabrications and find out if something really happened. It was this tension between lies and truth that kept her up at night.

On the other side of the coin, there I am. The one telling the lies. From there, I can easily admit that I have no compulsion to call other people out on their lies, in whatever way. Exposing them, confronting them, proving the lies from the truths. None of that appeals to me because I believe that lying, at least lying about small things, is done with some kind of purpose. When people ask “how are you?” I assume it’s not because they really want to know, but because they want the answer of “I’m fine.” Small lies and small answers aren’t really searching for truths, but searching for answers that are appropriate. Answers that are wanted. I lie about the fire extinguisher because when I think about what people want, the truth or the interesting story, I always find myself siding with the latter.

But the sentiment of escalation still holds. Start small, and the bigger ones follow, and then things fall apart. That’s how most stories usually go, but it’s not how this one does. While I believe the escalation is possible, I don’t believe it’s happened to me.

Thinking about killing myself feels small. The thoughts come to me not after moments where I am extremely upset, but instead during moments so mundane they aren’t even worth telling. When I cross the road, I imagine stopping in the middle and getting hit by a car. When it rains, I imagine throwing myself into the nearby river and drowning. When I’m in bed, to fall asleep, I imagine overdosing on paracetamol, my breathing weakening after vomiting for hours, my liver failing from the toxicity, my eyes finally falling shut. It sounds bad when I say it like that, but the fact is that I wake up the next day. The fact is these thoughts, no matter how constant or detailed, stay thoughts.

But, argues some part of my mind, thoughts are powerful. And I can’t deny that. Suicide ideation is defined by an unnatural preoccupation with suicidal thoughts. That in itself states that no matter how normal these thoughts are for me, they aren’t supposed to be. Normal people supposedly don’t think like this. It’s one thing to have a fleeting thought of dying, and another altogether to think about it every other hour, every day, each fantasy so vivid and well worn with how much I go back to them. Repeated thoughts become habits. Habits stay consistent and can shape people. If exercising everyday pointed a person’s trajectory towards better health, I wonder what direction I was going in with my constant thoughts of killing myself. I wonder if this is the difference between a long life and one that ends at twenty years old.

There is a contradiction here: I only lie about small things, but these thoughts are supposedly not small. I lie anyway. I lie to my guidance counselor, I lie to my friends that I’m still seeing that guidance counselor and that I hadn’t stopped three months ago, I lie to everybody I tell “I’m fine” when I’m really thinking about the revolver locked in the cupboard at home.

Perhaps, I rationalized, these thoughts started out big, but after years and years of thinking them, I wore them down into pebbles that could slip through the cracks. The only problem is that if I try to think of beginnings, I get lost. Trying to remember the first time I thought about suicide is like trying to remember the first lie I ever told. There was no clear beginning, just a period of my life that began and failed to end. If big things can become small, or if small things can become big escapes me. All I know for sure is what is true and what isn’t, and what that means to me. If I lie about it, it must be small. I wouldn’t lie about it if it wasn’t.

Rubinkowski writes:

I used to think I was trying to expose the same lies that annoyed me when I was young, but as I’ve gotten older I realize I was lying to myself. There are lies that attempt to hide, and there are those that reveal. These are the ones that haunt me because of what they say about loss and hope. I could count on my grandfather lying to me the same way I could count on him loving me. He lied to me because he loved me, I think.

and:

So maybe what I’m looking for aren’t lies at all. Maybe what I’m looking for---hoping for---is a happier truth.

Looking at my collection of lies, my collection of small things, I try to peel the layers away. I try to see if there’s a happier truth behind my lies. I find a little kid who wanted to hold a fire extinguisher because they’d read all about them, a kid who wanted to be liked by their friends and family, a kid who wanted to be what people wanted. I find an adult walking the edge of being alive and not wanting to be. I find myself grappling with smallness and bigness and what it means.

The truth of it all is this doesn’t make sense, and that scares me. It only seems right that lies are how I make sense of things.

-

Over the course of writing this essay, I became hyper aware of my lies. I lie so easily about small things that I often don’t notice, but now, every time I spoke, the question was at the top of my mind: was I telling the truth?

I recently went to the dentist. The left side of my mouth had been in pain for a month, and I didn’t schedule an appointment earlier because I was lying to myself about how much it hurt. When I was finally there, the dentist had cleaned a tooth out and told me it was broken. She said it might need a root canal if the damage was too bad. She tapped at the tooth and asked “Does it hurt?” No, I said. She tapped at it again. “Are you sure?” Was I? I thought I was. The sharp pain in the tooth disappeared after she cleaned it, but some kind of sensation was still there. Was that pain? Was I hurting? Was I lying? If I was, why?

The answer was simple; I didn’t want to have a root canal. It sounded terrifying. Feeling pain meant the root canal would happen, so if there was pain, I lied about it.

The contradiction again. This wasn’t a small thing, but I lied about it. New questions came into my mind. Questions about cause and effect. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Do I lie about things that don’t matter or do I lie about things because I wish they didn’t?

All the lies I tell are told because I want to be avoiding something. They’re my attempts at deflection and diversion. By telling a lie, I create another dimension, stretching out the distance between where I am and where an inevitable reality is. In my not-truths all it seems I’m doing is speaking things into insignificance, into smallness. And smallness feels safe. Small things aren’t important, and thus small things don’t hurt because I don’t give them the chance to. Truths can’t be controlled like that. Truths don’t care about anything other from the fact that they’re real, and that realness is merciless. Cut at a brick wall, and you’ve just chipped it. Cut at the skin, and I bleed. Telling the truth means admitting that that bleeding matters.

The person who stole the fire extinguisher is the same person who wants to be alive. This is the same person I am not. The same person I give to people because I know it’s that one they really want. Rubinkowski, on the lies her grandfather told her, writes “This is who I am, he seemed to be saying. Never mind that it isn’t true. In his lies, he offered up his best self [...]” If behind a lie, there’s a happier truth, in front of it, is an image of the self. I wonder who I offer in my lies. Not a best self so much as a facsimile I wish I could be. I wish I could hold in my hands something I knew everything about, something that made complete sense to me. I wish I could be somebody who woke up in the morning and didn’t immediately feel disappointed that I hadn’t died in my sleep. Behind my lies is somebody confused, and in front of them is somebody who yearns for another version of myself. They’re a version of myself that is truthful about everything, from the inconsequential to the allegedly a big deal. They’re a version of myself that admits that things matter, that reality is important, that I’ll have to face things eventually.  They’re a version of myself I don’t recognize.

I reach out towards the image, the stranger, but my hands stop short. I hesitate. My hands fumble, and I can’t hold it. I don’t. 

[hazza-bear-care]

Babie Crue (3/?)

A/N: This will be the second time I’m writing this because it accidentally got deleted when I went to add tags. I hope this one is more acceptable than the first draft, because guess who didn’t save the first draft.... ME!! I’m so sorry for not only leaving you guys waiting for the third part of this series, but also deleting it on accident. I FINALLY have a new laptop, so hopefully I’ll be able to update everything as soon as possible. Love ya!

Pairings: The Dirt! Motley Crue X OC, Eventual MGK! Tommy Lee X OC, Possible Douglas Booth! Nikki Sixx X OC

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drug use, smoking, and alcohol. Wowee I’m so pissed at myself for deleting this.

Description: I don’ t remember exactly what happened, but Tommy somehow convinced Doc to let Cam join the Ozzy Osbourne/ Motley Crue tour. 

~~~~~~~

“Hey, Doc! This is Cam! She’s a friend of mine from high school!” Tommy screamed over the music blaring through the small apartment. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Cam!” Doc responded holding his hand out for Cam to shake. 

“I actually have a question regarding Cam, Doc. I was actually wondering if she and her daughter could join us on tour.” Tommy questioned, ignoring the looks people were throwing in his direction. 

“You have a kid?!” Zutaut and Vince yelled, shocked at the revelation. 

“Tommy are you serious, man? Look around you! This is not the proper world to bring up a baby in!” Mick yelled. Tommy waved everyone off, staring at Doc and waiting for his reaction. The drummer could see the gears in the manager’s head grinding as he thought. 

“Tommy, Gracie and I are fine here. I have a steady job and your parents are angels. I agree with Mick on this,” Cam argued, suddenly feeling small under everyone’s scrutinous gaze.

“I’m sure Doc could give you a job. Hell, he could probably even pay you better than that shitty restaurant ever could! So, Doc, what do you say?” Tommy defended. The manager turned his attention to Cam, the 20 year old mother gnawing on her lip as her nerves began to get the best of her. 

“So you work at a restaurant. How old is your daughter?” Doc asked. 

“Grace is almost six months old, Doc.” Cam answered, a slight smile on her face as she thought about her daughter. 

“She’s so great, Doc. As low maintenance as babies get, Gracie’s probably the lowest of the low. She’s the cutest little bundle. You’re going to love her, Doc,” Tommy gushed. Cam smiled and furrowed her eyebrows, looking at the other Motley Crue guys in confusion. Nikki and Mick beamed, genuinely surprised with the words coming out of Tommy’s mouth while Vince mimicked vomiting behind Doc’s back. 

“I don’t know what I can offer you job wise, but I can very clearly see how much you and Grace mean to Tommy and the rest of the guys. So, pack up your clothes and every diaper you own because you’re coming on tour!” Tommy whooped and wrapped Cam in a hug, spinning the girl around as the other guys joined, a group hug ensuing. 

~~~~~~~

Tour life was great so far. Having a baby around actually kept the band in check, much to the surprise of Doc and Tom. The raucous after parties halted past 2 am, Cam’s hotel rooms or bunks on the bus were put on lockdown, and late night booze runs had a few additions: diapers and formula. 

In terms of parties, Mick was the most considerate when thinking of Grace. The guitarist would usually opt for a bottle or two of vodka, take his pain meds for his back problems, and then pass out in his room. 

Tommy was a close second: the drummer would get buzzed enough to be annoying, add a few bumps of coke to keep his high going for a few hours, and he was done. He usually ended up passed out face down, ass up anywhere he lands when his buzz wears off. Cam found him after he broke his protocol one night, face planted in a pool of his own vomit. Trying not to puke herself, Cam got Tommy cleaned up and back on the bus all while he muttered about how sorry he was and if he woke up Grace at any point in the night. 

Nikki and Vince, on the other hand, were intolerable when it came to the parties. There were nights where Vince kept the mother and daughter awake with the screaming coming from his room due to the countless groupies he fucked. Nikki sometimes roped Tommy and Vince into trashing the hotel floors that were rented out for the entire band, banging on walls and doors, screaming “wake up assholes!” as the entire hotel was awoken from their slumber. 

There were other times where Nikki and Vince used Grace before and after the shows to rope in their chicks for the evening because according to Vince, “there’s nothing drunk chicks like more than a dude who can handle a baby”, to which Cam rolled her eyes and ripped the baby away from them. 

The one thing Cam was cautious about was Ozzy fucking Osbourne. Motley Crue had their sober moments, especially around Grace, but Ozzy could never be sober even if his liver and kidneys depended on it. She knew that Ozzy had children of his own, but she didn’t know how exactly he acted around his children. Cameo always made sure that if Ozzy was around, she or a trusted member of Motley Crue always had an eye on the baby, especially when the older rockstar somehow snatched Grace away from whoever she was with. 

Mick and Tommy bounced between watching Cam and Grace, because if at any point Ozzy’ s actions bothered Cam, they would swoop in and take Grace from the drunk singer, making up a bullshit excuse like she needed to be fed or changed. Cam knew she would be eternally grateful for the band and everything they had done for her and Grace, knowing 100% that there would be no way to ever repay them. 

~~~~~~~

“Tommy! Get your ass back in this chair!” Ruby, the hair stylist, yelled at Tommy’s retreating back. “Can anyone go get him? Cameo? Mick?” Ruby turned her attention back to Vince as Cam stood and handed Grace and her bottle off to Mick, the vampiric man adapting his demeanor instantly. 

Cam left the greenroom, heading in the direction she hoped Tommy had travelled down as well. As she ran down the hall, Tom greeted her. 

“Hey, Zutaut! Have you seen Tommy? He ran out before Ruby could do his hair.” Cam ran a hand through her hair, trying to regulate her breathing as she waited for an answer. 

“Yeah, actually. Keep going down the hall and head towards the stage. He said he wanted to ‘survey the crowd’. Hey, do you want to go do something with me later? I’m sure the guys wouldn’t mind watching Grace.” Cam rolled her eyes, holding her hand up to Tom’s mouth, ultimately shutting up the spineless record label rep. 

“Zutaut, have you ever wondered why I call you buy your last name? Or why I never let you hold my daughter? It’s because I don’t fucking like you. So, kindly stay away from my daughter and I and do your fucking job!” With that, Cam turned and ran towards the stage, leaving Tom stunned in the hall. 

Tommy was staring out from behind the curtain, the crowd growing anxious. Cam silently shuffled up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing the drummer to jump. 

“You good?” Cam asked, silently chuckling at Tommy’s reaction. 

“Yeah. Fucking fantastic, Cam.” Tommy mumbled, brushing past her and sitting himself on a sound equipment trunk. Cam joined him and rubbed his back, trying to prevent a mental breakdown from happening. 

“What’s wrong, Tommy? You’ve never acted like this before a show.”

“This isn’t just another gig at Whisky, Cam. This is a fucking stadium full of people! What if they hate us? What if we fuck up this show, which will ultimately fuck up our career, and end up breaking up the fucking band?” Tommy muttered, scratching the back of his neck and holding his head in his hands. 

“Well, don’t fuck up,” Cam responded, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I’m serious, Cameo! This isn’t a fucking joke!” Tommy whisper-yelled. 

“So am I, Tommy! Look, this is what, your tenth show on this tour? Did you ever stop to consider that if Motley Crue was as shitty as you say, you wouldn’t still be here? Obviously you guys are doing something right, and you’re pretty amazing at it, so just give yourself a little break, okay? Now, come on back to the greenroom so Ruby can do your hair.” Cam stood and took Tommy’s hand, attempting to tug the man into a standing position. When the drummer didn’t move, Cam sighed and quickly sat down again. 

“Cam, I’m not too sure I can do this.” Cam kissed Tommy’s shoulder and laid her head on it, quite a scandalous idea popping into her head. 

“Hey Tommy? If you come back to the greenroom and patiently let Ruby finish your hair and makeup, I’ll flash you after the show.” With this promise, the drummer perked up and grabbed Cam’s hand, running back to the greenroom as quickly as he had run out of it. 

~~~~~~~

“Before we end our show tonight, we’d like to try something new. A couple months ago, a gorgeous friend of Tommy’s popped up with a beautiful baby in her arms. She is now responsible for rounding us up when we get crazy and fucked up, so we would like to end this show with a special song dedicated to our friend Cameo and her daughter Grace!” Vince came to where Cam was standing backstage and dragged her out into public view, the unforgettable chords of Elton John’s “Your Song” beginning to play in the background. 

Vince held her close as the band serenaded Cam, the mother a blubbering and sobbing mess. When the song ended, Cam hugged the singer, thanking him silently. 

“Don’t thank me sweetheart; thank Tommy. It was his idea.” Nodding, Vince escorted the young mother backstage as roadies began to disassemble what remained of Motley Crue’s set. They all ran to the greenroom, the party beginning instantly. 

“Thank you guys so much! It really meant a lot to me,” Cam whined happily, hugging each of them, spending a little extra time in her embrace with Tommy. 

“You’re very welcome, sweets. Now, don’t forget about what you promised me earlier, Cameo.” Tommy whispered seductively in Cam’s ear, causing a shiver to roll down her spine. This was going to be a long night.

~~~~~~~

A/N: Again, guys, I am so sorry that this part got deleted. I tried to piece as much of it back together as I could, and I’ m actually happier with this one than the original. I hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist:

@kellysimagines

[chaoticquips]

Wrapped Up

A reminder that @linklyshow is a wonderful person! An angel, best boy.

Continuation to my Coraline AU, although this is more like the end of the movie whoops!

The door slams shut behind him. He’s too busy trying to catch his breath and slow down the mounting panic to really revel in the cold draft that washes over his back. 

It’s all normal again. No magic, no bugs, no sand filled needle creatures trying to grab at him-

It’s over.  

When he moves, there’s a slight sting to his thigh. Grazes left from their fingers-

He pulls off his- Robin’s -glove and tucks the door key inside with shaking fingers. A wave of relief comes in and settles in his stomach as nausea. Numbly, he slides down against the wall until he’s slumped against it.

He almost... died in there. In a little door in a little house in the middle of no where with no one to even realize he was gone. 

Shaky breath in. Shaky breath out. Repeat. He grips the glove tightly, feeling the outline of the key on his palm. It helps a little bit, reminding him of-

The front door opens. Wally scrambles to his feet in what can only be enthusiastic relief. 

“Mom! Dad! Oh my god, I missed you so much!” With tear-filled eyes, he barrels into them. Hugs them tightly and breaths in that wonderful, parental smell of home. They’re home. 

“Whoa! Slow down there, kiddo, you act like you haven’t seen us in ages!” 

That’s... that’s not... 

Eyes wide, he whips his head up to see none other than-

“Uncle Barry?!” 

“What am I, chopped liver?” Iris laughs at his side. She smooths a hand over his wild hair and Wally realizes what a mess he looks. 

And that he’s still clinging to them like a life line. 

He quickly lets go, sniffling. “S-Sorry! What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, your parents wanted us to come see the new place, get our opinion on it since, well...” Barry rubs the back of his head. 

“You seemed lonely, all by yourself.” Iris cuts in, giving him that soft smile of hers that makes his chest feel a little too tight. A little too loved. “Sometimes new environments can be hard to settle into, it’s easier to have some sort of familiarity around, right?”

“What better familiarity than family, right kiddo?” Barry ruffles his hair and Wally chokes back a laugh that almost shoots out of his mouth like a sob. 

“But it looks like you’ve been adjusting fine?” Iris says, shaking off her coat to hang on the rack next to the door. “Look at you, all dirtied up! What have you been up to today, Wally? Hopefully nothing too dangerous?” She shoots Barry that secret little look she sometimes does that makes him all nervous.

“What’s the look for, hun?”

“Oh, you know.” 

Wally feels the weight on his chest disappear. A laugh trickles out as he takes their- warm, soft, real -hands and leads them into the house. 

“There’s a garden outside, you wanna see it?”

“Sure! Let’s get you cleaned up first so your mother doesn’t have a fit.” 

“Iris, we’re heading outside, he’s going to get dirty anyway-”

“Barry. Need I remind you of the dog incident?”

“I’ll shut up now.” 

He can’t stop the smile on his face. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Gah!” At the sudden voice, Wally falls backwards and drops in the deep pit he had just climbed out of. 

“Oh, shi- shoot! I’m so sorry!” Hands suddenly pulling him up, too quickly too quickly, the world spinning as Wally rubs the winded feeling out of his chest. Taking a few deep breaths with his eyes closed, sitting up against the stone wall, he feels hands on his shoulders. 

When he opens his eyes, he glares. 

“Oh, you.”

“Uh, yeah. Me.” Robin says nervously. He’s wringing his hands together and actually looks a little... guilty? Wally sighs.

“Whaddya want now, gonna make fun of me again?” Wally moves to stand up but is swiftly pushed back down by Robin’s surprisingly firm hands. 

“No!” 

Rather than the firm, chunky feeling of Robin’s coat sleeves going over his palms, Wally realizes he’s looking for the soft feeling of gloves. He’s looking for warm, soft blue moonlight on a rooftop where he was taken off guard by someone surprisingly kind to him. 

His face tingles where the Other Robin had...kissed him.  

To push back the rising embarrassment and incoming blush, he immediately tries to focus on the stupidbutreallykindacute way this Robin styles his hair. 

God dammit. 

“I.. I wanted to apologize, for calling you weird.” Robin moves from a crouched position over Wally’s lap to sit with a hard thump on the ground in front of him. “I shouldn’t have said that, I really shouldn’t have. It’s just...” He sighs. 

“I dunno, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” Wally snorts.

“You don’t say?”

“Shut up.” He whines out, nudging at Wally with his foot. “Point is, I said some stupid stuff I shouldn’t have about you and I feel bad. I thought you were like the other kids.” He’s hunched over himself, taking off his glasses for once and rubbing at his eyes. 

Curiosity at what the weird kid who’s been harassing him all summer actually looks like strikes Wally like a harpoon. But he’s still kinda pissed, so he looks at Robin’s shoes instead before he sees anything.

... Jesus, those are some expensive shoes.

“What other kids?”

“The ones I go to school with. They... they say shit about me all the time and I didn’t realize you were just joking around. Defensive measures and all that.” He shrugs, voice muffled by his coat sleeves.

“Doesn’t make it all right though.” Wally says.

“Yeah, I know. It really doesn’t. Trust me, I’ve been beating myself up about this.” With a half hearted chuckle, Robin lifts up his left, bandaged hand away from his face, but stays hunched over. 

“Wha- literally? Dude, what-” 

“L-Like I said, I’m beating myself up about it and now I’m getting yelled at for doing that, so I’m apologizing.” Robin cuts in. A hot flash of sadness and anger rips through Wally. 

“... So you’re just apologizing to me so you wont be in trouble anymore? If that’s all, fine, you’re forgiven, now go-”

“God dammit, no! I don’t want-!” Robin’s voice cracks as he slams his bandaged fist on the ground. “I don’t- I didn’t mean! Look, I’m trying to apologize!”

“Yeah, and you’re really bad at it!” 

“I know!” He yells out. 

“I mean, most people would have the decency to look me in the face if they were going to apologize-”

“I know, but I-!” Suddenly he stops. Wally watches the anger flow out of his body and hears him take a deep breath. 

“You’re frustrating as hell, you know that right?” He says quietly to his expensive shoes. 

“Hey man,-”

“Let’s start over!” He yells, pouncing forward and covering Wally’s eyes with his hands before he sees his face.

“Wha- dude! What the hell!” Wally reaches up and grabs at his hands, pulling them off. Belatedly he remembers the other boy is stronger than he looks. He doesn’t get far until his head nearly hits the wall behind him with the force of the other boy’s hands returning to his face. 

“Let’s start over! First impressions are everything, right? We just got off on the wrong foot.” 

“A few dozen times.” Wally mumbles. 

“Just-!” Robin stops and sighs. “...Do you think we could be friends? If we actually tried this time? I wont call you weird, you don’t call me weird, no arguing unless it’s banter because it’s actually kinda fun with you.”

“Mm, I didn’t know friendships had rules.”  

“Less rules, more like guidelines. A, what do people call it? A bro-code?” It’s the most anyone has ever tried with Wally before. He honestly feels a little touched his creepy neighbor is trying so hard. 

“I... I think I can work with that. Y’know, considering how desperately you wanna be friends with me.” 

“Oh shut up!” He can’t help but laugh at Robin’s expense and he’s pleasantly surprised to find the other boy laughing too. 

“God, you’re a mess.” Robin laughs out.

“Me?!”

“Yes!” It takes them a second to calm down, but finally Robin’s hands pull off his face ever so slightly. 

“I...I’m gonna take my hands off, ok? Then we can start over.”

“Dude, why are you nervous? You’re not horribly disfigured or something like that, right? Like, I don’t care if you are, it’s totally fine, just-”

Robin takes his hands off Wally’s face and gives him a smile so blinding he can’t tell if it’s the sun or not. 

Wait, no, it’s definitely the sun. He had his eyes closed for too long. 

“...So?”

“So what? I can’t see anything man, gimmie a second.” He rubs at his eyes while Robin stays strangely quiet. Then he clears his throat. 

“Hi! You must be Wally West, right? I believe you’re renting one of the rooms in the Pink Palace, right? I’m the son of your landlord, Dick. It’s nice to meet you!” 

When Wally opens his eyes, he almost doesn’t believe what he’s seeing. 

Dick Grayson, acclaimed child prodigy and adopted son to billionaire Bruce Wayne, is sitting in front of him. 

Directly in the dirt he had dug up for the tulips he had been planting. 

When Wally just stares at Dick, his smile shrinks and he moves to pick at his bandages. He averts his eyes from Wally.

“I-I heard you were into science, right? That’s partially why you moved here, so you could go to the academy on scholarship? Or was it to take special summer classes? That’s pretty cool either way.” 

“You’re-”

“I’m more of a math guy myself, y’know? And, uh, acrobatics but you probably already knew that.” 

More silence. 

“...Would you like me to grab you water or something? You look kinda pale-”

“You’re telling me,” Wally cuts him off, “That the creepy little shit who kept waking me up in the middle of the night to knock on my bedroom window, who stalked me for most of the summer, and almost got me killed is none other than the Dick Grayson.” 

“Um. I resent the creepy part and... yes?” Wally takes a deep breath.

“Hoooooly shit.” Wally rubs his face with his hands because, wow. Didn’t see that one coming. 

“But you get now, why I had to-”

“Hide your identity and be a total weirdo? Yup. It’s all coming full circle.” He makes a little circle in the air with his finger and Dick punches him gently.

“Hey!” 

“Unbelievable. That’s... good God, I’m friends with a celebrity.”

“Don’t go telling the world, ok? Mostly because people are, y’know.”

“Nah man, my lips are sealed. Besides, you said it yourself, who would I tell?”

“...”

“...Too soon?” Dick gives him a half smile and helps him to his feet. 

“So, uh, what did you mean when you said I almost got you killed?” Wally snorts. 

“That is a long story that I’m 100% sure you’re not gonna believe.” Dick does his little half smile again and Wally decides that he thinks it’s fitting for the other boy. 

“Try me. We’re friends now, I’m legally obligated to believe everything you say.”

“Alright.” Wally looks the other boy up and down, hand on his chin. Dick rolls his eyes with a grin. 

“Your shoes are way too expensive for gardening.” In mock offense, Dick puts a hand on his own chest. 

“Oh yeah? Well your jeans look too new to be gardening in!” 

“My jeans?Take a look at your- dress pants? Really?”

“I might have taken a reaaaally long break from my ballroom dancing classes at the summer house. Don’t worry about it.” 

“I’m gonna, especially when your nanny yells at me for being a bad influence on a ‘high-class citizen’.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alfred would never yell at you. He’ll just give you the scariest silent treatment and cook your favorite food slightly off so that there’s something funky about it, but you don’t know what.” When Wally gives him a strange look, Dick starts laughing about how Wally looks funny when he’s confused. 

Wally realizes rich people are fucking weird.

Wally also realizes he really wants to reach out and hold his hand. 

Then Wally realizes that without the glasses, Dick has really pretty eyes. 

He’s so screwed.

[calleo-bricriu]

Sometimes I start to think I might read a little too much.

So, I found this particular Muggle author in one of those, "It looked weird on the shelf and why not?" sort of ways that I often find books in Muggle shops.

Did a little bit of digging in to the author, William Lee Howard; apparently he was a fairly widely disrespected doctor that most other doctors viewed as a joke but that people who were not doctors thought was somehow brilliant.

Off to a good start.

The majority of the guy's books have to do with--not so much medical things but more, "Why everything is your wife's fault, trust me, I'm a doctor,” and by occasionally shouting in text about how he’s not a quack.

There were also two aimed at teenagers and I found a few chapter names completely self aware in one of them:

"Self-Abuse--How to Stop it--The Quacks" - Written as though he wasn't one.

"Environments and Diseases Which Rust Brain-Tools" - I'm going to start using Brain-Tools, I don't care that it's ridiculous. I like it because it's ridiculous.

Anyway, onto the book I'm mostly through.

It's the only one he published that wasn't--well, probably wasn't--intended to be some kind of medical book and it's the first one he had published.

No, it’s a story. A rambling, poorly written story.

The Perverts, 1901.

It's a bit difficult to read, not because it's as shocking as claimed but, because this guy just...rambles in a horribly disjointed manner that makes it difficult to follow what the hell is going on in his little story.

But, fine, I've read worse, just needs more focus; about halfway through, I stopped because it struck me that I've read this before.

Not this book specifically, the story, the entire plot, only the version I've read, while still written by a prose-y, rambling whackjob, was coherent and had much better flow to it.

Also, you could pretty easily follow the plot, as flimsy as it was.

In fairness, that one also probably could have been accurately titled The Perverts but there's always been a lot of unnecessary filler and prose in de Sade's writing (and he was at least self aware to the point that the last page of one of them essentially invites you to throw the book into the fire if you found reading it unenjoyable; tempting, but it's a heavy book and makes a good paperweight).

This man clearly read Justine (or The Misfortunes of Virtue) at some point; some similarities between bizarre things like that are bound to happen, pun intended given the topic, but this? This was very close to being the exact same book, just with renamed characters and a different time period setting.

de Sade wrote his in two weeks while in prison (and it shows) and this idiot somehow made it worse in terms of readability.

Oh, and the dedication? "To the memory of Edgar Allan Poe as a tribute to his genius, and in recognition of his struggles with a psychic incubus."

Okay.

I'm most amused by the fact that his last book was a book on "how to live long" and he died before he was 60. Must not be very good advice in that book.

And then I started skimming his other books and this has got to be one of the most unintentionally funny things I've read in awhile, "It has been my fortune――for so I consider it――to have been brought into intimate relations with men who are failures."

Good way to start.

"Many of these despondent and useless men have been guided into places where they fit." He's stopped using his brain-tools and it's not even chapter 8, which is where he talks about not letting your brain-tools get rusty.

(( Just a warning, there’s a short excerpt from the book that has some very literally, direct, and violent homophobia in there. ))

"teachers forced much useful and also useless stuff into unwilling brain cells" - I'm not entirely sure a man who blatantly ripped off one of de Sade's shortest works should be speaking poorly of teachers.

"How frequently have I heard the remark, after explaining to a young man who came to me a complete failure: “Why didn’t my father see all this?”" - You know, at this point, I'm almost certain that the only patients he'd ever seen were ones he made up or, more likely, ripped off from other case files and just changed the names.

"THE OUTSIDE LUNGS――THE SKIN" ...no.

He seems to think the skin does the same thing as the liver? What in the hell kind of medical school did this man attend?

"If a healthy boy should have his body――up to his neck――wrapped in tin foil, or any similar substance which would completely close the pores of the skin, he would soon have headache. This would become very severe, followed by loss of consciousness and finally convulsions――fits followed by death. Now this would occur even if he were in the open air. You can see by this fact that the lungs cannot alone cast off the poisons in the body" - First, weirdly specific scenario. Second, what he's describing is heat stroke not poisoning.

If people were listening to ridiculousness like this and taking it as valid health advice, no wonder so many died before they hit 30. I just went through an entire chapter of this idiot explaining how the skin is the body's main detox organ with only passing mention to things like, you know, your liver and kidneys, and that everything is caused by your dumb ass poisoning yourself by not bathing three times a day, constantly drinking water, then "exercising violently".

"Now it may sound funny to you, but the truth is, that if the boys in the past had really known as much as the chipmunks, we should have very few asylums for the insane or hospitals for the horrible diseases." - At this point I'm starting to wonder if I'm actually reading this or if I'm hallucinating it.

"About fourteen years of age you may feel a gradual soreness in the nipples. This will increase and sometimes be a little annoying. Now don’t become frightened and try to recall some blow you have received there." - This feels like a very, very specific panic that I'm pretty sure only happened to the author.

"Of course the HABIT of self-abuse means ruin to both brain and body. It is degrading to your true self, causes a loss of self-respect and makes a coward of every boy and man." - I get the feeling, by this point, that everything this person writes is just projecting.

"[...] bubbling spring of manly life." No.

"So never sleep with a man, except your father." - How is that less weird?

And we go from, go ahead and sleep with your dad to, "If you should be so situated that you find yourself in bed with a man, keep awake with your eyes on something you can hit him with. At the slightest word or act out of the way, HIT him; hit him so hard that he will carry the scar for life."

Just sleep on the floor if you're that damn paranoid.

"Keep your goat by and in you always." ...what? There are no circumstances whatsoever that would result in me wanting any part of a goat in me.

"CHAPTER VIII ENVIRONMENTS AND DISEASES WHICH RUST BRAIN-TOOLS" - I'm definitely stealing brain-tools. Based on everything else, I'm pretty sure mine are considered rusty somehow.

I don't think I'd take advice about brain-tools from someone who spent entire paragraphs talking about how he thinks people who live in far Northern climates hibernate.

What else have we got here? Dance hall women will ruin your life, you might be a man but you'll be a MAN in big letters if you go into the navy somehow, the navy should be bigger so it can consume more lower case men--I guess that makes sense as this was written in 1911.

"Don’t think that you know more than your mother about what is best for you. You don’t." - Wow, okay.

"I saw the girl, or rather woman, when she was twenty-four years of age, and recognized her by the peculiar conformation of her face. It was the face of a girl giggler. Her facial muscles had become so developed by her uncontrolled girlish habit that nothing could be done for her. " - What on earth is the "face of a giggler"?

"Don’t kiss anyone but your mother and father." - ???

"Don’t use arsenic in any form for your complexion or to give your face a plump appearance. Some of you will tell me of a girl you know who has a nice plump face from the use of arsenic wafers." - Maybe don't eat rat poison. Eating rat poison seems like a bad idea just in general.

Apart from don't giggle, don't kiss anyone, and don't take arsenic what is wrong with you? The entire book aimed at women seems to be a lot of, "For the love of everything don't touch ANYTHING without wearing gloves and also maybe burn your gloves every night and just use new ones the next day, the world is made of filth and full of diseased people. Try to stay outside in the sun without touching anything instead."

Interesting to read in the context of not having vaccinations available for all of the diseases mentioned; I don't know why it bothers me to see tuberculosis written as consumption though but I DO know why it bothers me that this idiot keeps saying sunlight will cure all of those diseases.

It really won't, you'll just die in a brightly lit room instead of a dark one.

"Don’t try to keep awake either by mental effort or that injurious resort of drinking coffee." - Well, I've been failing at that since I was about 15.

"Sleep always alone. Sleeping with another person is unsanitary." - ...uh huh.

"The hair should be washed frequently in water with a little powdered borax, but remember you wash the hair only to clean the scalp, nothing should be applied to the hair directly."  - Borax is corrosive, and how in the hell do you clean your scalp without also getting something on your hair, you can't just remove your hair and put it back later.

"Cold baths will keep your flesh firm and hard; will take off fat if you are too fat, and put on flesh if you are too lean." - Cold baths just sound unpleasant. There was also this whole section where he talked about how women specifically sweat fat out through their hands. I don’t have much for formal medical training but I’m confident that that’s not a thing that happens.

Speaking of, I particularly like that, in the book aimed at women, he's very adamant about daily bathing and in the book aimed at men it's more, "Eh, once per week is probably fine."

"EAT PICKLES AND CANDY IF YOU CRAVE THEM." - Unnecessarily aggressive sounding there, "Doctor". All I can picture is this quack screaming that in someone's face.

I guess it's kind of good to know that I have more extensive and accurate medical knowledge than someone who somehow got through school and earned the title of Doctor.

Oh, and I'm most amused by the fact that his last book was a book on "how to live long" and he died before he was 60. Must not be very good advice in that book.

Kind of want to read that one next.

[rileymarie]

Fangs Pt. 3

“What do you think Rowan the Loser is in for?” he says, nudging him in the arm and pointing to the front row of desks where a redhead kid is sitting hunched over a notebook. “Being a NERD?” he laughs, and launches a crumpled up piece of paper at the back of his head. The kid fidgets when it hits him and starts to look up, but stops himself. I get the feeling this happens a lot. “Hey, whatcha doing over there, Rowan Loser? Too good to even look at us?” the blonde bully says, as I’m now calling him in my head.

I look up at the desk, where Mr. Carmichael sits, a book in his hand. I can tell he knows what’s going on - I mean, you’d have to deaf to not to - but he’s the hard ass type who doesn’t believe in interfering with bullies for students - well, the male ones, at least. I wonder what he would think of the bruise on my wrist, if he’d interfere for me. Probably, cause I’m a girl, a little helpless thing that can’t defend herself, while Rowan is supposed to be a man, stand up to the bully, punch him out or something- 

I feel myself grabbing Blonde Bully’s hand just as he’s preparing to launch another piece of paper. 

“Don’t.” I whisper. 

“OW! What’s wrong with you?” he winces.

I don’t answer, because I don’t know. A few weeks ago, I don’t think I would even be bothered to put myself on the line for somebody else, risking my “perfect name” or whatever - but screw it. I’m sick of everybody thinking they can push us around.

I’ve attracted some unwanted attention. Mr. Luis looks up at us over his books, raising an eyebrow at either me or the blonde kid, I can’t tell. Either way, I let him go and Mr. Luis goes back to reading like nothing happened. 

“Freak.” The blonde kid mutters, and gets up and changes seats.

Great. There goes another hit to my popularity, which is rapidly falling since Wednesday.

But that Rowan kid gives me just the briefest passing smiles, which somehow makes me not care so much.

Rowan

I swear I’m just about to get up and punch that punk Tyler Wallace out. Any minute now, ok? Even Mr. Luis expects me to do something about it, god knows he’s not gonna help me out, I’m supposed to do it myself or something according to “Guy Code”. But then - say that I do? Won’t that get me in even bigger trouble than I already am?

It’s not even my fault I’m in here, ok, I’ve been framed! Nick Beal is the one who wanted to cheat off my paper ok? I don’t see him here, nooo because he’s on the Basketball team, big Whoop. What am I, chopped liver? I’m in Newspaper, doesn’t that count for anything? I guess not, because this school is full of a bunch of fascists. 

It’s fine. Detention isn’t all bad. 

Some girl I’ve never even seen before whispered something to Tyler Wallace, and he stopped throwing wads of paper at me. That was pretty cool. Actually - now that I think about it, I have seen her before. Hanging out with Emily and the “rich popular” crowd. That makes me second guess passing her a smile. Maybe she’s just doing it to make fun of me? I don’t know. 

Shut up, Rowan, you’re just paranoid! Maybe she’s just nice. Couldn’t that be possible?

In this school? Not likely.

I turn away, go back to my Trig homework. Somebody’s gotta do it, after all, and there’s not exactly any scholars in my class to copy off of. 

“Screw this.”

I look up to see Tyler Wallace standing up just as the auburn-haired girl that helped me rolls my eyes. Maybe she said something to him he didn’t like. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mr. Luis glares at him over his book.

“Bathroom.” He says.

“Better make it quick.” 

But Tyler’s got his bag around his arm. Probably he’ll just drive off and won’t come back. Guys like him don’t care how many detentions they get. I’m just glad he’s gone when the door slams shut behind him.

“Ugh, I better go make sure he doesn’t take off.” Mr. Luis grumbles, who must have had the same thought as me. He leaves, and there’s a click as he locks the door behind him.

“Is that really necessary?” I hear myself say out loud, turning without really meaning to toward the auburn-haired girl that helped me out. It’s not until I do that the crippling fear of rejection hits me, and I feel myself tensing, gearing up for her to laugh at me, or throw something.

She just smiles softly.

“At least now we can have some peace and quiet.” She says, and goes back to doodling in her notebook.

I smile, nod, ready to let her go back to her charmed, popular life, while I go back to my nerdy, lonely existence, when her drawings catch my eye. “Wow, those are really cool.” 

Again, without really meaning to, just drawn to her like some weirdo, I get out of my seat and sit beside her. For a second, she looks like she’s going to hide her paper and I think I’ve made a grievous error. But instead, she pushes it toward me.

“It’s stupid.” She shrugs, glances out the window.

In the spirals are words written, poetry it looks like, but I can’t make it out without titling it or examining it under a microscope, which would probably weird her out even more than she probably is.

“That’s cool.” I say, and push it back to her so she can keep drawing if she wants.

“I guess.” She says, and it’s quiet for a few moments. I wonder if I should go back to my desk now, but I’ve already moved, it would be weird to go back now. Luckily, she’s the one who breaks the silence. “That kid pick on you a lot?”

I cringe.

“I mean - I don’t mean-”  she frowns. “It’s no big deal.”

“Just embarrassing.” I say, feeling my face grow hot and I know my cheeks must now match the color of my hair. Great.

“I’ve got bullies, too.” She says, and seems to be thinking about something. Then she holds out her arm under the desk, rolls up her sleeve a little. I blink down at the purple bruise on her wrist, almost not sure what I’m seeing for a minute. Then I wince. It looks like it hurts.

“Who the f-” I stop myself from cursing, then realize my mom isn’t here to yell at me, “Fuck did that?” 

She pushes her sleeve down, pushes her wrist back in her lap.

“Nobody. Sorry. I shouldn’t have even shown you. Sometimes it’s just-“

“Easier to talk to strangers?” I finish for her. 

She nods a little. 

“I get that.” I say. 

She looks at me doubtfully, and I feel the need to tell her a secret, since she just showed me one of hers. 

“Everyone’s a stranger when you have no friends… I haven’t had any of those since I moved here.” I shrug.

The look on her face is not exactly one of relief, but understanding at least. 

“I feel like I used to have so many. I was just fooling myself.” She says quietly, almost to herself. 

“Have you told anybody?” I ask lowly.  “Anybody else I mean?”

She shakes her head. “It’s over. He’s not gonna do it again.” She says, like that settles it. Maybe it does. I nod. 

“Good. That’s good…”

She shrugs, like she’s not sure. I don’t know what else to say, but there’s no more time to talk, because the door opens and Mr. Luis shoves Tyler Wallace inside by the backpack.

“Get in there, you little shit.” He mutters. 

Tyler laughs, and stumbles down the isle. I get up and move just before he sits back down next to-

The girl. I still don’t know her name, I realize. I sit down at my desk, try to refocus on my homework while Tyler chuckles and the girl goes back to looking out the window.

Elizabeth

I told him. What was I thinking? To just tell a stranger like that? What if he’s seen us around, what if he knows who my “ex” is?

So what? An angry voice snarls back. Maybe he’ll tell somebody, somebody who matters, like you should.

I push the thought away. Who cares who knows? It’s bad enough I do, and now this random stranger too? No, no one else can know. I’m done with him, done with the whole thing, and my wrist will be fine soon. It hardly even hurts anymore.

But staring at the ugly thing fills me with a shame and a hatred I can’t quite describe. It really can’t heal fast enough.

After detention, I can tell he wants to talk still, to chat and know my name and more of my secrets, and I run out before he has the chance to as soon as the bell rings.

The walk home is lonely, but I’m beginning to like the feeling. I stomp Fall leaves beneath my boot, savoring the crunch, getting lost in my thoughts. A red convertible drives by, honking the horn at me. It’s Emily and Peter, laughing. I flip them the bird, but I don’t know whether they notice or even bother to look behind them to see if I’m still here. 

It’s not until later - too lost in my own thoughts to notice- that I realize I must have taken a wrong turn. Because when I turn onto my street, I realize it’s not a street at all, but an alleyway. What the hell? I turn around and suddenly the street I thought looked so familiar is now foreign to me. My heart sinks in dread.

I’m lost.This was the first time I’ve walked home, and though I was sure I knew where it was, I clearly didn’t. Mom would be so proud.

I wrap my jacket around me, starting to shiver. The Falls here are colder than they were in California. I hate the East Coast, I decide, hate Emily and Peter and the principle and the guy from detention who’s name I don’t know-

There’s someone behind me.

No, not someone. Several. I can hear their footsteps. They’re laughing. Guys. And a girl, maybe.

I feel myself stiffen. The sun is setting, blinding me just before it dips behind the hills.

They won’t talk to me. They’ll pass. They’ll pass, they’ll pass, they’ll pass…

And then they do, laughing and walking ahead of me. It’s a guy and a girl hand in hand. Just a couple. Where’s the third? 

I push the thought away. I have to retract my steps, find my way back home. 

Night has fallen by the time I’m on a street I recognize once again, just a few blocks away from my home. My steps quicken, I hope mom is ok, that she’s not worried. Why didn’t she call me? What if something went wrong, what if something happened to her? I should have called her after school, I should have skipped detention, I should have-

“Mom?!” I call as I burst through the door.

I wait, three, two, one - No response. My heart skips a beat. Why isn’t she answering? 

Time is a loop.

A balloon on a string, always filled with the same questions.

And no one shall know the hour.

And no one shall know the time.

It’s always the same question.

Is this the day you die?

“Mom? Mom?” 

Not in the kitchen, or the living room.

I run up the stairs, a cold fist coiling around my heart, squeezing it dry-

Your heart, I carry your heart, in mine… I carry it with me-

Where do I know that poem from? 

Your blood is singing to me even know, I can feel you, far away, 

humming

Please, no, no, no, not today, no- -

I push open the door to her bedroom.

She’s laying on her side, her eyes closed, looking dead.

“Mom?” I hear myself say, and my voice is hardly above a whisper, 

Too weak to even whimper-

I reach for her, my hands cold as ice, turn her over.

“Mom? Mom?” I shake her.

A sigh of relief… A rush of blood to the brain… 

“Elizabeth?” my mom says, blinking at me in confusion.

“Oh thank god,” I push away a wave of tears, from fear or relief, I’m not sure.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” she says.

“I thought-“ I shake my head, my panic dissipating like a bad dream. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

Tags: @mizzyplatinum