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checkoutmybookshelf · 1 year ago

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Its 10 p.m. Do You Know Where Your Terrasen Heir Is?

Celaena Sardothian has succeeded; she won the assassins' competition and is now working as the King's Champion. Well. On face value, she is, anyway. Dorian is beginning to understand that being heir to his father's throne is going to require him finding and using his backbone, and Chaol...is having like six different morality and loyalty crises and is smart enough to put puzzle peices together but not secure enough in himself to make good choices. Basically, our three POV characters in this book are starting to lose the comfort of their facades and positions and are going to have to figure out where they stand in a world of shifting geopolitics and magic that was supposed to have disappeared ten years ago. Let's talk Crown of Midnight.

This is you SPOILER WARNING. Below the break there will be SPOILERS. Be warned.

So there were things I absolutely adored about this book, and a couple of things I fully yelled down the internet to friends about because WTAF??? And I continue to be absolutely floored that SJM moved FROM the Throne of Glass Series TO A Court of Thorns and Roses, because TOG shows competence and an understanding of how to effectively meld character and geopolitics to move the plot along and ACOTAR...has the specialist Bat Boy ever. But this post isn't to slam ACOTAR, it's to hype Crown of Midnight.

Possibly my favorite early reveal in this book is that Celaena has been staging the deaths of everyone the King sends her to kill before getting them out of Adarlan and pulling appropriate-ish heads and other body parts from charnel houses to "prove" her kills. The amount I adore "Professional Assassin Refuses to Kill on Demand" is high, and Celaena taking what should be her blood money for murdering people on demand but is actually her reward to herself for not killing people and going ham on pretty clothes, shoes, books, and jewelry is just A+. The layers there are just incredible. Celaena is positively reinforcing her hella risky but morally right choice with stuff that makes her happy. But from the King's perspective or anyone who doesn't know she's not killing willy nilly, it just reinforces the murder Barbie aesthetic; she looks hella competent at the murder but sufficiently airheaded in other areas and nobody suspects her of being smart enough to be pulling a subterfuge. I adore this, and I also adore that Celaena can be, as Jake Peralta says, two things. She's allowed to be HELLA scary competent in the assassin business but she can also like pretty dresses and sparkly shoes. Murder Barbies are wonderful, is what I'm saying.

This gets a little complicated when Celaena tries to bring the sister of her heart and the man she loves into her little personal rebellion against the King's Champion role. Chaol is absolutely horrified because by the time she tells him, he's head over heels in love and his nightmare is the King ordering him to kill Celaena. Nehemia interprets this as Celaena being rebellion-curious, which for a seriously good-sized chunk of this book she is vehemently not. Nehemia calls her selfish and a coward, and this really does a number on their friendship, especially after rumors that the lost heir of Terrasen, Aelin Galathynius, is making waves and setting up a rebellion.

On top of ALL THAT is Celaena's next target: Archer Finn. She knows Archer from back in her days as Adarlan's Assassin, and from minute goddamn one, this man is more trouble than he's worth. He is WHINY, he wants his MONEY, he wants more TIME...Honestly by the second time he's bitching and moaning about the conditions under which Celaena is willing to smuggle him out rather than straight up murder him, I was ROOTING for her to kill him. Once it turns out he was actually tied up with the rebels and was responsible for Chaol's kidnapping and Nehemia's death (put a pin in that, we're going to come back to it), I was extremely ready for her to stick a knife in his squishy spots.

Chaol also managed to slide down my list of favorite characters this book, because the man is HOPELESSLY tangled in duty, suspicion, love, and a total inability to recognize that some things cannot be rationalized away into being ok. He's been falling for Celaena since book 1, but it seriously does not take long after they finally do sleep together for their relative positions as Captain of the Royal Guard and King's Champions (officially) and lapsed heir of Anielle and missing heir of Terrasen (unofficially) absolutely fuck up their entire relationship. The fall is helped along by Archer kidnapping Chaol to orchestrate Nehemia's death, but then Chaol goes full-on Captain on Celaena afterwards and has been keeping secrets from her in the meantime, so the trust they had is well and truly shattered. Although that doesn't actually stop Celaena from handing Chaol the information he needs to put it together that she is Aelin Galathynius, so apparently she still trusts him that far.

Between the interpersonal stuff, Celaena is still working on figuring out wyrdmarks and the tomb below the palace. She gets bare minimum help from Elena and Mort (everyone's favorite magic doorknocker with an attitude problem), but eventually she does sort them out enough to be able to open portals and work spells, with absolutely terrifying results. It also reveals to both Dorian and Chaol that Celaena is at least part fae, but she cannot take her fae form in Adarlan thanks to the King's use of wyrdkeys to muffle all magic except his own...and Dorian's.

Poor Dorian has just the worst time in this book. He finds out he has hella powerful, extremely uncontrolled magic, and spends the whole rest of the book panicking because nobody can teach him how to either control or hide it, and he is convinced (rightly so) that his father will murder him if it becomes known that he has magic. Luckily, Celaena is on his side there, and murders Baba Yellowlegs (*deep sigh* put a pin in this one too, we'll come back to it) to prevent the secret from being sold to the highest bidder.

Overall, the messiness of the interpersonal relationships in this book is absolutely delightful. People make mistakes, mistakes have consequences, and emotions are messy and complex in ways that affect both the characters and the geopolitical plot aspects of the book. It was also just REALLY fun to read through and watch everything go to hell in a handbasket in a way that felt motivated and deeply connected to the worldbuilding.

That said, this book was not flawless, and there were two key things that I really had problems with: Baba Yellowlegs and Nehemia's death. Baba Yellowlegs is objectively the first instance in the Maas-verse of what becomes a habit for this author that drives me up the goddamn wall. I have no issue with allusion to the mythology of our world in fantasy novels. And Baba Yellowlegs, in defense of this allusion, is built into the worldbuilding of TOG far more effectively than the Seraphim and Myrmidons of ACOTAR. But there seems to be a pattern of Slavic mythology being used only for evil characters that I don't love, especially when Slavic mythology tends to be significantly deeply nuanced and multifaceted. I do not love that all of that nuance and complexity and the sense of ambiguity in general is collapsed in favor of "evil witch in the woods with bigass yellow chicken legs." And this is pretty consistent in the Maas-verse, so while I might have been willing to let this slide on its own, it's representative of a pattern I'm not a fan of in SJM books in general. Also...THE LEGS WERE ON THE COTTAGE. Something about "Baba Yellowlegs" was just viscerally irritating to me and I hate it.

The other issue I took with this book is that it full-on fridged the single female POC character. And frankly it's not even subtle. Nehemia full-on asks Elena about it, and makes the decision to die specifically to galvanize Celaena into action. I genuinely hate that Nehemia self-fridges here. Fridging is, as Red from OSP says, "such a Fuck You to a character." Like, I was here for the Celaena and Nehemia start a rebellion show, but noooooooooooo, apparently that was less interesting than Celaena adding ANOTHER dead friend to her heart. This also full-on killed the racial diversity in the book, so we're back to an all-white cast, and that just adds a bad taste to an already bad trope. That said, I'm objectively less mad about this than I was at the fridging in Battle Ground, even if it does take the ONE female friendship that I was so enjoying and wreck it.

Oh, and I can't forget to mention Fleetfoot, the goodest girl ever. I absolutely adore that Celaena has a pupper, and Fleetfoot just adds a lovely human element to Celaena. There didn't have to be a dog, but I adore that there is one. And not gonna lie, I had basically the same reaction to Chaol leaping through the bigass demon portal that I did when my sister yote herself off our deck to stop our dog from trying to make friends with a moose: A combination of "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU THINKING????" and "Obviously we save the dog, it's family".

So overall, I am thoroughly enjoying the Throne of Glass series, and I shall be continuing my SJM reads.

#crown of midnight #sarah j maas #sjm #sjm books #throne of glass #books and reading #books #books and novels #books & libraries #book recommendations

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houseofbrat · 1 year ago

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The King will meet families of cancer patients in his first public engagement since his diagnosis as he strives to show it is possible to live a full life while being treated for the disease.

His Majesty will be joined by the Queen as they visit a cancer treatment centre to raise awareness, highlight research, and offer personal thanks for the work of medics in the field.

In particular, they have asked to meet patients and their families.

A palace source said the King and Queen hoped to show how cancer “doesn’t just affect those who have cancer, it affects all those around them”.

They added: “Though every patient is different, one of the things they hope to demonstrate and witness is how people can go on living a full life during treatment, not just after it.

“Cancer can be a scary word but it doesn’t have to be a scary experience.”

On Friday, Buckingham Palace announced that the King would be making a return to public engagements, three months after he was diagnosed with cancer.

Emphasising that he was still undergoing treatment and that engagements may be adapted to protect his health, a spokesman said: “His Majesty’s medical team are very encouraged by the progress made so far and remain positive about the King’s continued recovery.

“His Majesty is greatly encouraged to be resuming some public-facing duties and very grateful to his medical team for their continued care and expertise.”

On Tuesday, the King and Queen will make their first joint official engagement since Nov 14, visiting a cancer treatment centre – which will not be named in advance for security reasons – to meet medical specialists, patients and families.

The event aims to raise awareness of the importance of early diagnosis and highlight the pioneering research, supported by Cancer Research UK, taking place at the hospital.

The Queen by his side

The Queen has been by the King’s side throughout his treatment, regularly photographed coming and going during his initial three-night hospital stay for what was originally thought to be an enlarged prostate.

Later this week, she will continue with her programme of solo engagements. She has been widely praised for stepping up to lead the Royal family this year, as the Prince and Princess of Wales have also had to take time out of the public eye to help their family through her abdominal surgery and then chemotherapy.

The palace has not yet confirmed any further appearances for the King, who has been performing his State duties including red boxes, audiences and Privy Council meetings behind closed doors since his cancer diagnosis was announced on Feb 6.

There are now hopes that he will be able to attend the key moments of Trooping the Colour, the 80th anniversary of D-Day and Royal Ascot in some form.

Aides are making contingency plans to establish the safest way for him to join the 8,000 guests, with options ranging from him appearing at a distance for the national anthem, to a full walk to greet the crowds.

One of the King’s first public appearances of the summer season is expected to be at a Buckingham Palace garden party. This year, they take place on May 8 and May 21, with royal sources saying the King is determined to attend at least one if possible.

The King has been praised for his candid approach to sharing his diagnosis. MacMillan Cancer Research, of which he is the patron, told The Telegraph his “openness about his diagnosis and experience” will have a “positive impact on many lives”.

The Duke of Sussex was happy to hear the news about his father’s health, the Telegraph understands.

‘It is good news’

Claire Taylor, the chief nursing officer at Macmillan Cancer Support, said: “It’s good news to see the King recovering and returning to royal duties. Cancer affects everyone differently and some people continue to be active during their treatment, others stop working during treatment until they feel ready to go back.

“The King’s openness about his diagnosis and experience is helping to encourage others who have concerns, to visit their GP and seek support, and will have a positive impact on many lives.”

Dame Laura Lee, the chief executive of Maggie’s, a cancer care charity, said: “We know at Maggie’s how important continuing to work during treatment can be for many people as it can help to give them a sense of purpose and identity.”

“His openness about his diagnosis has encouraged so many important conversations about cancer and I would like to thank him from my heart for using his own difficult experience to help others.”

A palace spokesman said: “As the first anniversary of the coronation approaches, Their Majesties remain deeply grateful for the many kindnesses and good wishes they have received from around the world throughout the joys and challenges of the past year.”

#the telegraph #hannah furness #victoria ward #King Charles III #Queen Camilla #uk #medicine #public health #health care #prince harry #my gif

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little-grey-dowitcher · 1 year ago

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I’m not strictly transmasc (I’m multigender) but it is one of the labels that I identify with, so if it’s ok I want to add my two cents and I’ll probably also respond to the nonbinary version of this post when it gets made with examples that are more specific to that.

For added context, I can’t bind or go on HRT right now due to health concerns, so I’m almost always perceived as a very masculine woman.

I’m constantly told that I’m “very intimidating” to be around due to my masculinity and my autism. Something about the specific combination of being perceived as a masculine woman and my general lack of effective masking often gets me told that I’m cold, uninviting, intimidating, even scary, mostly because I emote in a way that’s not “normal,” or because I don’t bother to hide when I dislike someone. I also grew up in the rural southeast of the United States where you’re expected to constantly be passive aggressive but in a “polite” way to people you dislike if you’re a woman, but I just didn’t do that, which led to me being considered even more scary. I was never straight up aggressive, but I never bothered to hide my feelings, so that made me intimidating to be around. But when the cis men around me behave in a similar way, they don’t get treated any differently, because “that’s just what men are like” according to them.

I also get infantilized constantly. When people argue with me, they do it like they’re arguing with a small child, and will genuinely try to “parent” me if I dare to show emotions during the exchange. When I get a new job and my coworkers are teaching me something, they talk to me like I’m a complete newbie, even when it’s something I have four years of experience with and just need a refresher on how this specific company handles it.

Usually I get infantilized first and then deemed aggressive when I push back against it. In the above examples, if I insist that they not talk to me like I’m a child when we’re arguing, they’ll say I’m getting aggressive, or if I point out to my coworker that I already understand one thing and would prefer if they’d take the time to explain something different, suddenly I’m being a dickhead. But sometimes people will jump directly to calling me scary just because I’m not feminine enough for their tastes.

Edit to add that I noticed I’m suddenly far less trusted around children. Like, before I came out I was very much the one that relatives would foist their younger kids onto, but now the only person who will willingly leave their kids alone with me is my very supportive former coworker.

Quick TW for medical neglect before I continue.

As I mentioned, I have some ongoing health concerns. The very first time my condition flared up, I was told by urgent care to go directly to the ER because I needed to be admitted to the hospital. I went, I foolishly put my preferred name and pronouns on the patient intake form that specifically asked for them, and I sat in the waiting room for six hours. They called my preferred name the first time they saw me, when I went to triage. After that, after they laid eyes on me and decided that my (technically unisex but masculine-leaning) preferred name didn’t “match” me, they only referred to me by my deadname for the rest of my time there.

They did some blood work that showed my clotting factors were essentially nonexistent, that I was at serious risk of internal bleeding, that I probably should’ve gone in sooner because it had gotten significantly worse in such a short period of time… and they sent me home. Not only did they send me home, they did so with absolutely no next steps for me to take. No medications, no referrals to a specialist, no care instructions, nothing. They decided I was a hysterical and confused woman and sent me on my way. I never put my preferred name and pronouns on an intake form again and —would you believe it — I’ve never been turned away from an ER again. Now I only deal with the regular kind of medical misogyny, where they think I’m hysterical and dramatic unless my husband is there to back me up, but they’ll still humor me and do the blood work I request and respond to the results in the appropriate manner.

❗️❗️ This is asked entirely in good faith. This post is intended to open dialogue and help with solidarity and understanding. ❗️❗️

I would like to hear specifically from trans men and trans mascs how the system of [whatever the fuck you call the intersection of transphobia, misogyny, and specifically your gender- whether transandrophobia, isomisogny, antitransmasculinity, transandromisia, transmisandry, or any that I have missed as there are a lot of words to describe similar concepts] uniquely targets and affects you. Things that you feel other demographics do not experience. Reblogs and replies are very encouraged! If you would prefer, you could dm or send an ask to be added anonymously by me.

This is in the spirit of wanting to understand. I am listening. I encourage all non-trans-mascs to not speak on this topic and let trans mascs and trans men do the talking here. Reblog the post to spread it, but please say nothing.

Any and all people who identify as trans men and/or trans mascs are encouraged to participate.

This is not bait to start a fight. I will block without hesitation anyone who is actively being a shithead on this post. I want to hear and uplift your voices by getting it directly from you.

Click this to access the trans fem and trans women version of this post.

#tw medical neglect

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hunterofthemist · 3 years ago

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If it scares a human

"expedition team 2, Come in expedition team 2." The voice from the radio says. "This is Kliyik, coming in. What is it command?" I say

"You're heading into uncharted territory, we're unsure what's out there so keep on your guard." The radio warns." I turn to the rest of the group. 2 Tarvok guards, an Umi medic, and a human navigational specialist.

"Were moving out, a lot of uncharted territories to map out. It's better to get it done now to get camp up before nightfall." I say, gesturing for everyone to get up.

The human walks up to me and starts showing me a map of the area were in, and where we have to go. "Around sector 14 would be an ideal place for a camp, but sector 11 wouldn't be that bad if we have to set up there." The human I learned was named Jeff says. I nod and accept the plan.

The group starts walking, the alien flora making a thick brush, making it hard to navigate. The group keeps walking, the razor-sharp brush slashing and scratching the metal leg guards we are all wearing.

We keep on walking for a while, and soon enough we make it to the spot we need to set up camp. It takes time but with the help of the tarvoks and their brute strength, it's done with relative ease.

Jeff and one of the Tarvoks named Clen set up the campfire, The black logs bathing the camp in a blacklight-like color. We sit around the campfire on stones we gathered around the forest, telling stories of our lives.

The other Tarvok named Reyek had the idea of telling stories of monsters. We all agree, even the Umi, Folu agreed. I started, by telling some stories I remembered from my younger years. They weren't that scary, since they were meant only to scare younglings to teach them lessons about the world. But Folu seemed to be scared at least.

Folu went next, they're story wasn't that scary, but it seemed to scare them.

Reyek started his story, which was pretty good. Gave me a few chills. I could say the same for Clen's story as well.

We all look to Jeff, We've heard things about the tales humans could tell, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't even a little invested in what story Jeff could tell.

"It's not gonna be as good as all of yours, but I'll try." He chuckles. He thinks for a minute, trying to find a good story. "Ok, It's not a story per se. But there's a rumor among humans, that if you're wandering the forests of certain planets. You can stumble across something very, Very dangerous." He says, leaning in.

We do the same, more than a little interested in what could be so dangerous that even humans would be wary of it.

"It's rare, you won't always find them. They never stay in the same place, and they all look different. Not one looks the same exact same. And they are so dangerous that even nature strays away from them." As he speaks, his voice gets more and more, scared?

"What are they, what do they look like?" Reyek asks. The near-ever-present smile on his face was gone, replaced with intrigue and a tiny bit of fear.

He waits for a moment, gathering the courage to speak. "The Stairs." He shudders.

Upon hearing this Clen bursts out laughing, and Reyek face turns sour. Even Fulo looks annoyed that they were being scared for nothing.

"Really? Stairs, if that's what scares humans, then the stories about how brave you all are, have to be wrong." Clen says after he stops laughing.

"I'm serious, I've never seen them myself but I know they're out there, and they are dangerous. There are a few rules we have about them if we are ever to see one. One, Never acknowledge their existence. Two, Never go near them. And three, Never Ever go up them." He says with a tone that says he isn't lying. He looks up to me and gives me a look I know all too well. The look you give to someone when giving a warning that is extremely important.

Eventually, we get tired and climb into our tents to sleep. When the sun peeked through the leaves of the black trees we got out, ate breakfast, and packed up camp to continue the expedition.

"Remember guys, we don't know what's out there, keep together and stay safe," I say before we start walking.

"Yeah, maybe we'll come across Jeff's dangerous stairs," Reyek says with a smile, and starts laughing at his own joke. Jeff looks like he wanted to say something, but he didn't.

We wandered for a few hours, moving towards where the next campsite would be. The sounds of the alien forest were strange and first, but we found ourselves getting used to them.

But as we were coming up on the clearing we were going to set up camp in we heard it. Or should I say didn't hear it? Because as we got close to the clearing the noises stopped suddenly.

The absence of sound in the forest is the second most strange thing I've ever experienced, nothing just makes the forest not make noise. There is always something happening in the woods. Either wind blowing the trees, or animals calling out.

I said it was the second weirdest thing I've ever experienced because of what happened next. We hacked through the brush and saw it. A set of stairs. It was a pair of space station stairs, the metal beams holding up each individual stair, each connected to a metal plate on the ground. It looked as if it was just taken out of a Space station and just put here.

We don't say anything. But we all had one thing in our minds. "Was Jeff right?"

Reyek breaks the silence, brushing past me, and towards them. "Oh wow, so they do exist." He said sarcastically.

I've never seen Jeff move so fast before, but before Reyek was even close enough to touch the stairs, Jeff put a hand on Reyeks armored shoulder and spoke. "Don't take another step, please." He pleaded, desperation ebbing into his voice.

Reyek looked at Jeff, the look on his face should've told him everything. But against his better judgment, Reyek got closer.

"Come on man, cut the shit and come back, we need to find a new campsite before dark, and we can't sleep here tonight," Jeff said, full-fledged desperation in his voice now.

"Come on, your joking. There's no way there's any danger to these. Their just stairs, nothing more. Sure it's weird for them to be out in the woods, but they're harmless. Besides, maybe I can get a good vantage point from up there." Reyek adds

Reyek plants his right foot onto the stairs, and Jeff backs off. Jeff pulls out a datapad, the status of each crew member on it.

Reyek climbs slowly, each step making a metallic echo. He stands at the second to last step, and looks back at us, specifically jeff. "See, It's fine. Nothings happening!" He shouts.

He goes up the last step and sits there for minutes. The air, unnervingly still. The Forest, unnaturally silent.

Suddenly, the sound of something bursting went through the forest, originating from Reyek.

Reyek moved his hands to his chest and took a step back, an unsteady foot caused him to slip and tumble down the stairs, and over the side. When he landed he was still, not making a sound.

"Reyek Stantler, Status: KIA" The device on our wrists sounded out at the same time. We looked over to Jeff, and see that it was him who changed Reyeks status.

Fulo looked back at Reyek and started sprinting towards him. She turned him over and saw it. His chest burst open, Black blood poured out of it.

"Hi- his hearts, they exploded," Vulo said, sadness and fear in her voice.

We got out of there and had a medical team come through and come to us. We put a tracker on Reyek's corpse so it could be found and brought back. After all, we couldn't carry a giant Tarvok's corpse with us back to base camp

He may have been stubborn. A rude ass to some people, but he was a good teammate. He didn't deserve that. But his death was his own fault, Jeff warned him about those stairs.

#humans are space orcs #humans are terrifying #My writing #creative writing #writing #writers on tumblr #writers #sci-fi #horror #tw blo0d

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ourvanishingghosts · 2 years ago

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Hello!! can I req Raihan x Female Reader where reader is a Ice/Grass specialist and has a Glaceon and Leafeon who protects her because she gets picked on a lot Maybe some angst to fluff Thank you already!❤️

Sure thing.

Lonely Without Friendship

Raihan x F! Reader Angst/Fluff

Growing up you were always bullied. You didn't do anything to cause the bullying. It's just that kids are mean. You didn't have any friends because of this, so your parents ended up giving you a Glaceon and a Leafeon to help and protect you. They were your only friends throughout all of your school years. That was until you moved to Galar to continue studying.

So far your only friends were Hop, Milo, Marnie, Gloria (Fairy Gym Leader), Nessa, Melony, Sonia, and Bea. Your two Eeveelutions didn't like men all that much since boys were the main bullies from your younger years. Hop and Milo were the exceptions since Leafeon and Glaceon could tell that they had good intentions and wouldn't hurt you in any way. There were some people in Galar who would bully you and they would either wake up to a yard full of leaves or a yard full of ice that was covered in snow.

Raihan wanted to befriend you, but your two friends wouldn't allow it to happen. You would always have to put them into their Great Balls in order to talk to him. You couldn't blame them because Raihan is an intimidating-looking man. Towering over you and his fangs were a little scary at first. Leafeon would give him cuts by using razor leaf and Glaceon would purposely make the surrounding area cold by using snowy terrain.

It has been two years since you came to Galar and your two partners have eased up a little bit. They now like Kabu, Leon, Bede, Gordie, and Piers. Raihan was close to giving up on becoming friends with you entirely because he still isn't liked or even remotely close to being liked. That was until he was sitting with you on your bed while you were crying. You were crying because your boyfriend of three years broke up with you over text. Leafeon and Glaceon were laying their heads on your lap trying to comfort you. You were leaning your head against Raihans chest in a way that he couldn't see your tear-stained face.

"Y/N, I am going, to be honest with you and you may not like what I am about to say."

You sniffle and hiccup before responding

"What is it, Rai?"

"Your boyfriend was a complete jerk. He didn't deserve you."

You remove your head from his chest and look up at him.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you deserve someone who will treat you like you are the queen of the world."

You giggle a little bit before sniffing again

"I am no queen, Raihan. You know that."

He gently takes your hands in one of his and puts his other hand on your cheek.

"You are a queen, Y/N. You may not see it. But you are a queen to your Leafeon and Glaceon."

The two Pokémon nuzzle against you making happy purring noises agreeing with Raihan.

"And if I am being honest. You are my queen. I would do anything to see you smile. I will embarrass myself in order to make you laugh."

After telling you that he kisses the top of your head and you smile.

"Thank you, Raihan. I appreciate that. I really do."

"You are very welcome. Now, why don't you lay down with Leafeon and Glaceon and take a nap because I bet you feel tired after letting out all those emotions."

You nod and lay down. Glaceon and Leafeon lay down by your feet. Raihan gets off the bed and heads towards the door until you grab his hand.

"Could you cuddle with me, Raihan? Please?"

He looks at you and then at the two Pokémon for their responses. They nod their heads, yes and he lays down next to you putting your head on his chest. You and Raihan smile knowing that Leafeon and Glaceon finally accept that he would never hurt you. Ever.

#raihan pokemon #raihan #pokemon raihan #pokémon raihan #raihan x reader #pokemonlemon #pokemon sword and shield #swsh #gym leader raihan #pokemon raihan x reader

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qqueenofhades · 4 years ago

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Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #covid for ts #i had a lot to say evidently #rant

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earnestly-endlessly · 4 years ago

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Hi, how are you? Your blog is amazing and your recommendations have already allowed me to read wonderful stories, so thank you so much! I wonder if you could suggest me any cherik fics of them as detectives? I remember reading one a long time ago, but unfortunately I don't know the name and even less the synopsis. Thank you in advance for your help.

Thank you so much @remember5novemberv for your kind words. I'm so sorry this took me so long but I hope you enjoy this list. There are some excellent detective AUs in this fandom so you're in for a treat.

Cherik Detective AUs

Their Mouths Always Lie – keire_ke

Summary: Charles adheres to most police protocols like they are a personal code of conduct. Erik gets things done and over with, for better or worse. Raven knows what she's doing, most of the time. The serial killer kills, regardless. Police AU.

Guilty by Association – Reagan

Summary: While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might've been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there's just one thing that Charles neglects to mention -- that he's really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they're dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.

Incy Wincy Spider – Tawabids

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a renowned homicide detective, with his husband Charles at home and his partner on the job, Moira MacTaggert. When a twisted serial killer starts targeting mutants, Erik and Moira are the perfect team for the job, especially since Erik himself is the mutant poster-boy of an NYPD trying to improve their image.

But what they don't yet know is that the serial killer is an old soul out of Erik's past, and his next move is to pull Charles into his web.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!�� The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

Charles’ Killer – luchia

Summary: When detective Charles Xavier finds himself hunting down a vendetta-driven serial killer, it doesn't take long for him to realize he's in over his head. It only takes a little longer for him to realize his killer is, too.

Demoted – JayPendragon

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a detective-specialist with the NYPD Mutant Tactical Unit, ready to help out where his skills are needed. Or he would be, if he and his partner hadn’t been demoted. For the next four months, he is patrolling the Lenox Hill precinct with Azazel – if he doesn’t die of boredom first.

One night they are called in to investigate a potential case of domestic violence, yet the tenant assures them he is both alone and unharmed. However, there is something about this Charles Xavier that compels Erik to follow up.

Watching the Detectives – Clocks

Summary: Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are good friends and colleagues. However, when they go undercover at a Christmas party to nab a prime suspect, Erik keeps reminding himself to stay professional and ignore feelings of unexpected jealousy.

Oh, Sinnerman (Where you gonna run to?) – TintagelCastle (orphan–account)

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is one of the best homicide detectives in New York. From small time stabbings to high end mob hits, Erik (and his equally scary partner Logan) makes sure all the bad guys get caught, searching for the final clue to nail his mother's killer. As a string of murders draws the net ever tighter on Erik's life's work, he needs to catch the nightmare of his past whilst continuing to be the darling of the Force...

And so what if he's completely in love with the British guy on Forensics? Who's he ever going to tell?

Wrap up my bones – waifornight

Summary: Damaged detective Erik Lehnsherr is grimly searching for a serial killer whose victims all have extraordinary gifts. But without any clues or leads he and his partner Logan are in the dark. Until Charles Xavier, abducted by the killer, escapes. Together Erik and Charles must confront something far darker than either of them had ever imagined.

Alternate Universe loosely based off the crime movie Kiss the Girls.

I’ll see your heart (and I’ll race you mine) – sirona

Summary: For Kriminalhauptkommissar Erik Lehnsherr, this case will change everything.

Paralyzer – Yahtzee

Summary: In 1965, Erik Lehnsherr has infiltrated the NYPD for his own purposes -- but his powers make him a brilliant detective. Yet that's not why FBI agent Charles Xavier has sought him out. It's because the mysterious killer they're both trying to find is murdering people like them: other mutants.

Their search for a madman binds them together. Their inner demons may tear them apart. But the greatest danger comes when the killer they're looking for looks back.

Wrap up my bones – waifornight

Alternate Universe loosely based off the crime movie Kiss the Girls.

The Long Bright Dark – lachatblanche

Summary: Ten years ago Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr closed the case on a grotesque series of murders that continue to haunt them even in the present day. When they are pulled in for questioning a decade later, they finally have confirmation of something that they have both suspected for a very long time - that there is unfinished business for them to take care of and that the case they thought they had closed so very long ago is in reality still all too open.

A True Detective AU.

Finding North – ClarkeStetler, Goosenik

Summary: Charles and Erik are (loosely) friends with benefits. They don't share personal details, last names, or anything concrete about their lives. This is ruined rather spectacularly when Charles gets recruited by the Mutant Apprehension Division of the FBI. Surprised is a bit of an understatement for their reaction to finding themselves partnered up and sent out on cases with the team.

Closer (to God) – dsrobertson

Summary: Se7en/The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo AU-ish.

Political journalist and editor, Erik Lehnsherr, has just lost £150,000 in a libel case against businessman, Kurt Marko. Down on his luck and in need of money, Erik is approached by the Metropolitan Police’s Detective Inspector Charles Xavier. Well-known for his investigative journalism, Erik is asked to help in the search for a serial killer in return for £200,000 if the killer is caught.

Wrapped up in murder, religion, and sex, Erik gets more than he bargained for.

Homo Sacer – unveiled

Summary: In a not too distant future, Detective Erik Lehnsherr meets Charles Xavier: street magician, former academician, and telepath.

One Good Day – troll_under_the_bridge

Summary: One case which is going to turn Charles' world upside down, while he struggles to pacify his boss, investigate murders and come to terms with the mess his life has become.

Playing With Fire – professor

Summary: Charles is a detective determined to catch a serial killer.

If the serial killer doesn't catch him first.

Hold on or let go – aesc, pearl_o

Summary: Teenage telepath Charles Xavier takes a job as a consultant, working with prickly police detective Erik Lehnsherr. Charles is used to being on his own and taking care of himself; he has no reason to think that his relationship with this stern, icy man is going to change any of that. (Also known as: Tough Little Baby Telepath.)

MCIS: First Case – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr considers himself a great MCIS agent, and he puts up with a lot from his boss - Moira MacTaggart - in the name of solving crimes against mutants, but he's not so sure about this new empath, Charles Xavier. Their first case together will test Erik's patience, but doubtless be the beginning of a brilliant friendship.

MCIS: Fathers, Sons, and Brothers – Pookaseraph

Summary: Alex Summers has a single case that he has obsessed about ever since coming to MCIS two years ago: Su-M-94-0708-0034, the murder of Christopher and Katherine Summers, and the presumed kidnapping and possible murder of Scott Summers. Very little evidence was found at the time, but hopefully a new team - and new leads - can shed light on the case that left Alex an orphan.

When the Crazies come to town – Chinchillaatthedisc0

Summary: Erik is a surly detective with zero people skills who has just been assigned the murder case of Kurt Marko. Prime suspect? Charles xavier. Who's no where to be found.

My old man is a bad man – faerie_ground

Summary: Sebastian Shaw dies at two am in the morning with a dagger embedded in his forehead. Detective Erik Lehnsherr is on the case, and the number one suspect is the recently widowed Dr Charles Xavier, Sebastian Shaw's husband.

Deep Cover – Subtilior

Summary: Omegas in heat? The perfect whores. Sebastian Shaw? The bastard who kidnaps them for his Hellfire Club. Erik Lehnsherr? A hard-boiled detective who's been on the Hellfire case for months. The catastrophe that unfolds when he goes in on retrieval and finds Charles Xavier still writhing in a Hellfire bed? .... Deep Cover.

A Murder of Ravens – AbandonedWorld

Summary:Charles Xavier is wrongfully accused. Erik Lehnsherr is a top-notch homicide Lieutenant who stumbles upon the case of a lifetime: a serial killer targeting mutants–and only mutants. Charles bides his incarceration waiting on a miracle, reciting Poe's timeless gem in effort to retain his sanity...

Note: Unfinished

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #detective au #asks #earnestly answers #long post

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camthesolemnone · 4 years ago

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Hi, I have like, 4 more ideas that came to me while I was at work, so #1: horror movie. Medic and Heacy are in their cottage, and have just watched a horror movie of some kind before they go to bed, right? Yeah. BUT! As they get ready, something odd happens that sets them both on edge (turns out it's just one of the birds or something) but they end up scarred and not wanting to go to sleep

I changed this one a bit but the main idea remains in-tact. I’m sorry that this took so long to get out and that the ending is kinda shitty. I’m working on the other prompts you sent me alongside this one! Also, I don’t know if you saw the pinned message or not but requests are now closed, so please hold off on sending any more.

"Is leetle Scout asleep as well?" Heavy asked, sitting comfortably on the rec room couch.

Medic nodded and reached for the VHS tape sitting on the glass table in the middle of the room. A tiny smile graced the Russian's features.

"Is good, we have television all to our selves!"

"Ja, and don't expect to sleep tonight, Mikhail! Herr Engineer told me that this is one of the scariest movies he’s ever seen," Ludwig replied, holding up the tape for his partner to see.

Written across the label in black sharpie was the simple word, 'Halloween.' The label should have been difficult to read in the dark, but the Russian noticed how it almost seemed to radiate a burgundy light...must have been some crazy glow-in-the-dark marker Engineer had invented, he concluded. Heavy crossed his arms triumphantly and laughed.

"Do not count on it, Doktor! Heavy is not phased by baby horror films!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!”

A moment of time was spent struggling to find out which remote went to which device, but eventually, the pair got the movie inside the VHS player and smiled excitedly as color flooded the screen. Ludwig left the room briefly to make popcorn and plopped down on the couch next to his lover to click “Play” on the title screen upon his return.

“If Doktor gets scared, you can hold onto me~” Mikhail teased, and Ludwig shoved his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re 45 years old, liebe? Because right now, you sound like a lovestruck teenager!” The doctor shot, handing him the popcorn bowl.

“Well...” Heavy began, settling a massive arm around Medic’s shoulders, “One part of that statement is correct.”

Unsurprisingly, Heavy was correct about being immune to the movie’s horrors. Then again, Medic was also not affected by the film, so they took more pleasure in the plot and the acting then the actual scary moments.

Of course, Ludwig grew giddy when gore was involved.

“Hohoho! Look at all of that blood! If I was the killer in this scenario, I would collect it for future use,” he commented.

Heavy raised a questioning eyebrow and attempted to distract himself with the popcorn, but he soon came to the realization that there was nothing left but kernels. His German companion took to removing the bucket from his grasp and standing up.

“I need to use the bathroom, so I’ll take this back on the way,” the doctor stated, and the heavy weapons specialist nodded in response.

Mikhail was left all alone with the intensifying film in the dimly lit room. He would never admit it, but now that Ludwig was gone, he felt smaller. It wasn’t a feeling of fear but of slight unease; things would likely be alright for Heavy, but there was always a shred of uncertainty.

As time passed and the movie reached its climax, Heavy became more and more enthralled with the action, to the point where he forgot about Medic’s absence. His eyes were fixated on the glowing screen, his hands gripped tightly at the wool blanket surrounding him. Mikhail fell deep into the world of gruesome fantasy, and as a consequence, he nearly shot out of his seat at the sound of rapid footsteps and whisper-shouting coming from down the hall.

“Heavy! Oi, big guy!” Demoman said, urgency in his tone.

The Russian let his blanket drop to the floor and stared at the demolitions expert with confusion and anxiousness. The Scot all but captured his arm with both of his own and began dragging him down the hall as best as he could.

“Slow down, Tavish. What is this about?” Mikhail asked.

Demo turned his gaze back to his teammate.

“The Doc ‘s dead in the cludgie!”

Heavy’s eyes widened with shock, emotional pain, and fury towards whoever had committed such an act. Sure, Medic would respawn, but whoever had laid a finger on his beloved doctor was in for a beatdown. Unless it was an accident, in which case Mikhail would scold the German about being reckless.

The pair burst through the door to the community showers and the Russian nearly gasped at the sight. Ludwig laid unmoving in the center of the room with blood staining the front of his lab coat and the ground surrounding him. There was no weapon to be found, but in the corner of the room, with his back towards the door, sat a curled up, trembling, mumbling Scout.

Mikhail’s first thought was that Jeremy had committed this grisly murder, but Tavish put a hand out in front of his chest before he could progress. The Russian opted for whispering Medic’s name as a substitute.

“Scout! What the hell happened here!” Demo cried.

The young runner didn’t reply. He continued to rock back and forth, murmuring and wrapping his arms around himself. The Scot approached him cautiously, taking a calm, more concerned approach. Heavy followed.

“Aye, are you alright, mate?”

Demo reached out to put a hand on Scout’s shoulder, and a series of rapid events unfolded.

Scout’s entire body whipped around and stood up, and the Bostonian let out a high pitched, almost demonic screech. In his left hand was a knife stained in blood, Medic’s blood, and Heavy and Demo exhibited two very different reactions.

Demoman yelped and jumped back, going into flight mode. The massive Russian on the other hand, fearful for the lives of himself and his friend, took a strong step forward and lashed out at Jeremy’s face. One square punch to the jaw was enough to send the man flying across the communal bathroom and into the wall. He slumped over after the hit, out cold.

“What in the-! It was almost like that boy was possessed!” Demo shouted.

When Mikhail and Tavish’s hurried breathing finally began to slow, a new sound rang throughout the room: laughter.

Medic was rolling on the floor alive and well, laughing his ass off and further soiling his labcoat. Heavy gasped out a “Doktor!” at the man’s sudden revival while Demoman stood frozen.

“Hahaha! I can’t believe it! I just thought I’d have a bit of fun scaring you, liebe, but watching you knock out Scout was far more amusing!” The doctor exclaimed, rolling on his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows like a teenage girl lying on her bed while talking to a friend over the phone.

Demoman was the first to flare up.

“What?! So you’re saying this was all a prank?! You’re sick in the head, Medic!”

The Scot was tempted to slap him silly, but with Heavy in the room, that clearly wasn’t an option. With another frustrated grunt, he stomped off and back to bed.

Now it was Heavy’s turn.

“That was not funny, Ludwig! Heavy thought you were dead!” He scowled.

The doctor hauled himself off the ground and stood up straight, wiping some of the fake(?) blood on his hands off onto his lab coat.

“What’s there to worry about? Even if I had been stabbed, I would have just respawned, Mikhail.”

“I know, but...”

Medic’s expression dropped. His love had one massive paw gripping his opposite forearm and his face was distraught. He looked smaller, scared almost, and a tiny crack situated itself in the German’s heart. If he had known such an act would hurt Heavy so deeply, he wouldn’t have even thought about going through with it. There was also the issue of Scout. Ludwig relished the sight of the cocky, annoying Boston boy being beat up, but for once, he regretted roping him into his plans. The runner had been all too willing to help him with the scare, and Medic repaid him with his bear’s violence.

He sighed and shook his head at himself internally. Yes, his prank hadn’t been very rational, he concluded.

With slow, apologetic steps, Medic approached his partner and wrapped his arms around him gently, rubbing his broad back with one hand.

“Es tut mir leid, Heavy. This was all very foolish of me,” he admitted.

Heavy returned the embrace and buried his nose into his doctor’s hair, which smelled of blood and autumn leaves.

“You know it is because I do not like seeing you hurt, moya lyubov. Every time evil Spy kills you on battlefield, my blood boils. Would sacrifice myself a million times to keep you safe,” he murmured, and Ludwig’s heart cracked a little more.

His arms tightened around the giant with increased guilt. It pained him profoundly to see Mikhail die too.

“I love you, Heavy. From the bottom of my soul, I am truly sorry.”

The Russian moved one hand from the smaller man’s waist to cup his cheek protectively.

“I love you too, Doktor, but please, do not play with death. Someday, we will not get another life.”

The credits of the movie had long concluded by the time the two of them returned to the rec room. Medic was rather disappointed that he had missed the latter half of the film, but what made up for it was a soft kiss to his forehead and a set of teasing words given to him by his lover before being sent off to sleep.

“Next time, we watch psychological thriller, da? Less gore will give you less dangerous ideas,” Mikhail suggested, patting a hand on Ludwig’s shoulder.

The doctor laughed and gave him a sly smile that warded off his fears, allowed him to breathe normally again. He was still alive.

“I like the sound of that, but you’re making the popcorn!”

#tf2 #heavymedic #horror films #fanfiction

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years ago

Text

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 08

<= Chapter 7

Summary : Lukas gets a chance against one of the biggest actors ever known.

Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/81316792

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The duel you had all been awaiting for... THERE IT IS. I hope you'll like it !

Thank you, Tumblr, for making this chapter so fucking hard to post, I appreciate it, really. /s

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Chapter 8 - “So you came back... As I had planned.”

The role of the Moonjumper was both an interesting and a boring one- at least, this is what Lukas had thought to himself while he had been learning his lines. It wasn’t that this character was a bad one, no, far from it. But he was… Predictable, unoriginal in some ways even. The young man hadn’t noticed it really, while simply reading the text in his mind. But once he had said the lines out loud… This is when it started to get apparent. Of course, he had told himself he was merely a law student, so what could he know about fiction and how to interpret it? He was no specialist in that field. And yet, this is the impression the role gave to him. Not a bad one, but not a perfect one.

In short, there was room for improvement. However, this hadn’t been on his mind, or not for too long. After all, he had other preoccupations other than thinking about that. The first one had been to learn these lines, and the second and most important one… Was to teach that bastard of an actor that sometimes life could get back at you for your attitude.

And apparently, now was the moment for it.

With a wave of confidence caused by his anger towards the diva, Lukas opened his mouth and put a start to what seemed to be a duel between the two of them.

-“So you came back,” he murmured with a little smile, moving the puppet upwards, as if it were looming over Hat Kid or, in this case, MJ: “As I had planned.”

-“You took something from me,” retorted MJ, with a determined intonation that was completely different from his arrogant, usual self. This man was no doubt a very skilled actor. Even if he looked nothing like a little girl… He still managed to give the same vibes, by his movements, his expression and his voice. It was truly impressing, though the student couldn’t care much at the moment.

He needed to focus, to get himself in character… In this very instant, the young man was a mysterious and powerful entity who had been imprisoned in his own dimension for centuries. He was a monster that would lure his victims in, never for them to be seen again. What did he do with them? The script wasn’t clear about that, though there were traces that hinted he would turn them into puppets.

Quite a scary thing for a kids’ show.

The student was struggling to move the puppet with precision, due to how it was made. It was the same kind of puppet who had strings linking it to a wooden cross. It was practical in a way where he didn’t have to touch the puppet directly to move it… But on the other hand, it meant that he couldn’t do precise or specific gestures with it. This meant he would need to put extra effort on his acting, so that it would compensate the lack of gesture he could do.

Well, he hoped this wouldn’t be too noticeable… Trying his best to make the puppet raise its hand, he continued playing:

-“Oh, you mean this, perhaps?” Having no props on the scene with him made it less immersive, but thankfully, the rest of the dialogue was enough for everyone to understand what the Moonjumper was talking about: “This hourglass of yours… A powerful artifact, yes?”

Lukas’ tone was calm, reserved, but it wouldn’t last- later in the scene, the Moonjumper would become more agitated. Actually, the directives on it didn’t say he was going to get mad, per se. Still, when he read those lines, he was… Disappointed in the entity’s attitude. For a bad guy, the latter was way too mild, too nice, and… Not threatening enough.

Not frightening enough.

-“That is none of your business,” the diva replied, his tone more aggressive. His stance had tensed, giving away how important this object was for the main character, and how crucial it was to get it back.

-“Oh, is that so?” Lukas made the puppet tilt its head to the side, approaching MJ dangerously. His tone had turned icy, bitter, as if what the main character had said weren’t such a good idea: “I believe it is quite my business, on the contrary, young child,” his murmur had lowered in volume as he made another step forward.

-“It’s mine!” MJ’s voice had talked back, his expression showing a mix of anger, despair, and persistence.

-“Is it? Is it, really?” he snarled in response, starting to raise his tone a little- this was the time to put his improvisation on the table. At this point, it was make or break: “Maybe you’re lying. Perhaps you stole it. Who is there to say? Do you even know how much I need it?”

The diva in front of him seemed taken aback by him not respecting the stage direction completely. It didn’t last long, and soon enough, the hint of a smirk could be seen on the other’s face, even if just for a second. It quickly disappeared, as the actor didn’t want to break character. But Lukas saw it, and it simply enraged him.

At least, his fury in the next moments was not going to be faked.

-“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” the ‘little girl’ screamed at him, getting closer to confront him: “This isn’t a toy, this isn’t… Some weird stuff that you can use for yourself! It’s… It belongs to me, to… To my people!”

Okay, this was it, this was the most embarrassing moment of this whole scene. God, he wanted to cringe so hard just thinking about what he was going to do, but… This exact thing was the reason he got the role to begin with. So, realistically, it meant… That it was maybe his secret weapon.

Shit, that sounded so fucking stupid.

The student let out a snort, one that started to get louder and louder as seconds passed. This wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a cruel giggle, but… This scene was the finale, was something people had to remember after seeing that episode. It had to be… Intense! Full of passion, as Grooves would say, he supposed. And so… His mind conjured a picture he would never, ever forget.

MJ falling down the day before. MJ getting angry, humiliated before the entire crew, losing his job against a nobody, a simple stagehand who had been hired the same day. And, just like that… Lukas burst out laughing, his hysterical giggles echoing all around, sending shivers to the spectators as it continued. For years, the young man had been shamed for his way of laughing. His entire childhood had been spent hiding that part of him from the others, so he wouldn’t be judged and mocked for something he couldn’t even control. And here, for the first time of his entire life…

Lukas was laughing without being (too) scared of the way people would react in consequence. This was… Absolutely freeing, to feel like he could be himself, just a few instants…!

-“You think I see this as a toy? Don’t be silly, young child… This,” he spoke again, his voice dark, lifting the doll’s hand again: “… Is my salvation, the key to my esca-”

-“Okay, cut, that’s enough,” Lukas was interrupted by a familiar voice, the investor’s. His face paled up- wait, they hadn’t finished the scene, why would that man stop them? Did… Did he do wrong? He gulped down, starting to regret taking initiatives. What was he thinking? If he had a script, it was to respect it! Why did he choose the riskiest solution?! Couldn’t he just stick to the plan?!

He turned to the investor, a look of fear and confusion written all over his face. At his sides, MJ’s acting mask fell, only to be replaced by a smug expression, as he approached the student. Leaning towards him, so that only he could hear, the actor whispered:

-“You didn’t even respect your text,” the diva mocked him: “What, you thought it was a good idea to improvise? Or were you just too stupid to read the stage directions?”

Lukas glared at him, gritting his teeth- but his arch nemesis was right. He had taken initiatives and, in hindsight, this really hadn’t been the opportunity for it. This was an exam, a duel, in which they both had to prove who was a better actor. When would a good actor question a director’s orders?

The young man’s cheeks blushed both in anger and embarrassment. His eyes fell on the Conductor and DJ Grooves- both looked disappointed and perhaps a little angry. They were most likely thinking that he had just wasted a golden opportunity- he didn’t think he had acted badly, he was pretty sure his laughter had been a great addition, but his wasn’t about that.

It was about respecting the directors’ wishes, which he hadn’t done.

In an instant, Lukas’ attitude went from confidence to utter embarrassment. Oh, how he wished he could just hide underground, never to be seen again. Next to him, in comparison, MJ was simply beaming. In the distance, Mike’s expression was a mix of sadness and frustration. As for the rest of the crew… Lukas just couldn’t look at them.

It was too much. His anxiety was eating him from the inside, feeding on his self doubts, on his fears, and on how much he wanted to get out of here. Please, couldn’t he hear that he was downgraded to being a stagehand again?

The wait was unbearable.

The investor had remained silent for a few seconds, staring into space. Eventually, his eyes went back up to the two actors, and he sighed, visibly conflicted. But conflicted about what? There wasn’t anything to be conflicted about! The young man clenched his fists, trying to focus on the pain of his nails scratching his palms instead. The longer it lasted, the more he could feel his emotions getting out of control. If it continued, then… Well, he could already feel some tears making their way up to his eyes.

Oh, no, no, please, no, not in public- not next to MJ, out of every-fucking-one!

His mind went silent as he saw the investor looking at him, his face serious. This was it.

-“You don’t fit the role,” he said sternly, and Lukas felt his heart sink in his chest- he knew it, he fucking knew it, he shouldn’t have tried to take risks! This wasn’t his forte, he should have stuck to rules like he always had!

-“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” a sarcastic scoff left the actor’s lips at his sides, only making the student feel even worse than he already was: “Who could have ever thought hiring a stagehand to do some professional work was a bad idea- oh, yeah. I did,” the asshole’s voice became serious, sending huge and bitter “I told you so” vibes.

God, Lukas just wanted to punch his face so bad…! And the humiliation he was feeling wasn’t helping him either- fuck, fuck, he could feel the urge to cry getting harder and harder to suppress.

The investor raised his hand, his expression still as serious as before:

-“I’m not finished,” he interrupted the other’s celebration before crossing his hands, lost in thoughts: “This… Is not something I had expected, I have to admit that much.”

-“Wha-” MJ seemed confused and tilted his head to the side, frowning: “What do you mean?” he pressed the older man, visibly not liking where this was going. Lukas was just as confused as him, not really understanding where the other was getting at. And, to be fair, so was everyone else in the room, especially the two directors, who exchanged a perplexed look.

What the hell was going on?

It took approximately thirty, long seconds for the investor to find his words, and he crossed his arms, looking back at the student.

-“You don’t fit the role, because this character doesn’t fit you.”

There was a short silence in the room, before MJ broke it, an insincere smile taking place onto his lips:

-“I’m sorry,” he snorted sarcastically: “This role doesn’t fit him because he doesn’t know how to act,” the jerk enunciated, as if it were obvious- and it was. Still, the other shook his head and tapped the script resting on his legs with the back of his fingers.

-“No, he does. But his acting doesn’t fit a character like this,” he explained better, and he opened the script to continue: “See, I only got to read the script before, today is the first time I’m seeing it actually being rehearsed. And it made me notice that… This character isn’t good. In fact, he’s bad.”

This last statement cast a chill in the room, making people frown in confusion and incomprehension. However, for the two directors, it was more than that. It was more pronounced, more… Visible.

-“Wh- What d’you mean?” the Conductor exclaimed, holding his own copy of the script and flipping the pages frantically. DJ Grooves was more reserved, but he was clearly furrowing his brow, shaking his head:

-“But… But we sent you the script a few times, and you validated this version,” he retorted: “I don’t understand why suddenly this character is bad to you.”

The investor pointed at the two young men on the scene, his head turning back to look at the directors:

-“It’s one thing to read the script, and it’s another to experience it. The Moonjumper is bland, he doesn’t have any personality, he looks like any other bad guy, he feels… Unoriginal. I’m honestly feeling like I was watching something made by teenagers.”

It was clear that this last sentence deeply offended the two men, and Grooves had to grab the Conductor’s arm, so that the latter could keep his mouth shut. But, oh, it was obvious they wanted to talk back. Still, it was best to be polite with the person funding your entire project.

-“Which is why you need a good actor,” MJ tried to interject, placing his hand over his heart as he tried to persuade the benefactor to choose him instead. But he was soon cut short by the man’s voice again, disagreeing with him:

-“No, MJ, you don’t understand. This character is badly written, and this puppet,” he nodded to the object still in Lukas’ hands: “… Is too scary for kids. On one hand, you have this character without any personality, and on the other, you have this puppet which design has to change.”

At the mention of the puppet, a familiar person moved across the crowd to join the conversation. Without much surprise, it was Mike, whose expression showed concern and confusion:

-“W-wait,” he called out to the investor, not knowing what to do with his own hands: “I don’t… I was asked to make a scary puppet, I-”

-“And you did way too much. Furthermore… Our friend here had some trouble moving the puppet around,” he pointed to the student, whose face paled up as everyone’s eyes glanced at him. Oh, shit, no, he didn’t want to be implicated in this…!

-“This puppet wasn’t made with the idea of interacting with props. It can’t hold things and even if it could, it seems complicated to make it express emotions or body language. In short, I want the puppet to be redesigned entirely.”

Mike’s face paled at the investor’s decision, and Lukas couldn’t blame him. It was months of work thrown away like it was nothing. He was about to say something against it, but MJ beat him to it, defending his brother for the student’s greatest surprise:

-“And you had to wait until it was finished to say something about it?” the actor’s tone was getting more aggressive as he gestured at his brother: “He spent nights working on that! And you decide to just… Scrap it away?!”

Lukas… Really hadn’t expected the other to care, especially with how the latter had thrown the puppet to the floor the day before. Then again, they were twins, and Mike did seem to care about his brother… So maybe the feeling was mutual, just… Unbalanced, perhaps?

-“I know, and I take full responsibility for that,” retorted the man with determination: “The other reason I want a redesign is that I want this character to change. I want another one instead, one that is original, and not… The typical cliché of a bad guy.”

Before MJ was able to talk back, the Conductor interjected, his expression really showing he wasn’t liking anything that was being said at the moment.

-“Are you serious?!” he finally snapped, his Scottish accent more audible than ever: “Do you expect us to rewrite the entire thing?! After all the time it took us?!”

Grooves tried to calm the Conductor down, but it was in vain. All he could do was to push him lightly to the side, before the other reacted violently by shoving him back, not wanting to be touched, especially by him. Still, that got the message across, and DJ Grooves got the opportunity to talk:

-“It’s… Not possible to rewrite anything, the deadlines are too short for our budget and-”

-“In that case, if this is the way to avoid a catastrophic show, then I’ll fund this project for a little longer. But I do not want to see my money being wasted on some poorly written story,” he sighed, obviously aware of how much his words had irritated the entire crew, who was now glaring daggers at him: “I know I am responsible for saying that too late, which is why I will give you more time and money to adjust tactics. But this,” he gestured to the puppet and the script: “… Has to change. I’m not asking for a complete rework of the script, but I want us to talk about the modifications we need to implement.”

After the announcement regarding the deadlines being postponed, the crew did lose some animosity, though it was still very much there, especially for the two directors who had to rewrite a good chunk of what they thought was a final version. Mike, in comparison, looked much more disappointed and sad than anything else, which made Lukas feel bad for him. He wanted to comfort his friend, trying to encourage him- but before he even could, MJ’s voice rose again in the room, catching everyone’s attention once more:

-“And what about the original problem, hm?” he urged the benefactor: “If there’s no Moonjumper anymore, then… What about the new character?” He then gestured at Lukas as if he were showing something disgusting- and yeah, that was pretty insulting: “You’re not… Going to choose an inexperienced stagehand for a major role, are you? You need someone who knows how to act, not… Not someone who can’t even respect the stage directions!”

The student gritted his teeth again- but he couldn’t deny the last point, as it was true. Then again, that didn’t mean he couldn’t defend himself:

-“At least, I respect other people,” he mumbled, loud enough for the diva to hear. Unsurprisingly, the latter turned to him, his eyes wide and his expression furious:

-“Excuse me?!” he retorted, outraged: “I know what acting is, and it’s following the script!”

-“Oh sure, that’s clearlymore important than being a decent human being!” the young man rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. This seemed to be what made the actor snap. The latter rushed towards him, his fist raised, prepared to hit- but thankfully, Mike knew his brother enough to anticipate it, and he dashed to grab his twin by the waist, stopping him.

-“MJ, cut it out!” yelled the puppet maker, and Lukas couldn’t help but be taken aback, not used to seeing Mike so… Angry. And yet, it was barely enough to keep MJ from trying to punch the student- he was trying to break out of his brother’s hold. Lukas couldn’t help but step back, in case the actor did manage to shove his twin aside. But it didn’t happen. Instead, the diva slowly lowered his fist, glaring at his rival with pure hatred in his eyes.

-“Will you pleasefucking stop?!” the benefactor’s loud voice called out to the group. When they all turned their head back to him, his face showed nothing but anger and annoyance. That sent shivers down Lukas’ spine, and he tensed, facing the man again like a well-behaved child. Next to him, MJ glared at the man before rolling his eyes, soon imitating his arch nemesis. Mike, upon seeing his brother had calmed down, let go of him and made a few steps back as well.

Okay, seemed like this day was getting as agitated as the previous one… Was this going to be the case for every single day? He… Didn’t know if he could handle that.

The investor let out a long, exaggerated sigh before pinching his nose, irritation written all over his face.

-“I’m… Ugh… Okay, fine. For this new character, and my decision will be final… I want the newbie on it.”

Lukas’ heart stopped beating, his eyes widening in astonishment. Wait, wait, wh-

-“What?!” the diva’s voice soon echoed around them, his tone enraged and scandalized: “You can’t be serious, he’s just-”

-“I said that my decision was final,” the benefactor reaffirmed his choice, giving the actor a very stern look of disapproval: “And if you’re unhappy with that, then you are more than welcome to leave. If you finally decide to act like an adult, then I will give you another role. But let me tell you, MJ, you’re on thin fucking ice, right now.”

The diva shot him yet another glare, his fists clenched and trembling from how livid he was. Both of them seemed to try and assert their dominance over the other… But eventually, MJ looked away and stormed off, kicking a chair as he moved through the room. It took him only a few seconds to reach the door and slam it behind him, leaving the set after another tantrum. Mike, just like the day before, quickly followed him, most likely to comfort him or at least calm him down.

In the meantime, Lukas was just… Existing, barely realizing what had been said to him. This… This was a dream, right? He was still in the workshop, taking an impromptu nap, this couldn’t be possible in real life…! And yet, it was all very real. In the back, the Conductor and Grooves seemed to have conflicted emotions: on one hand, they were very upset by the idea of rewriting a good part of their story, but on the other hand… They wouldn’t have to worry about that asshole’s attitude anymore. Still, they seemed just confused as him as to why he had been chosen. Yeah, seemed like improvising wouldn’t have been a good idea, but… Maybe in this particular case, it helped to highlight the Moonjumper’s lack of personality.

In a way… Probably not something to do in the future from now on.

Suddenly, the student was brought back to reality as he felt a hand over his shoulder, and he jumped, not expecting the sudden contact. He looked in front of him, his eyes focusing on the person he was facing: the benefactor. The latter still wasn’t smiling, and his expression was still irritated, but it didn’t seem directed at him at least:

-“Well, congrats, I guess. You did good.”

Lukas remained silent for a moment, not knowing how to answer or what to say. Eventually, he stammered a quick “thank you”, his mind still having trouble to process what had just happened.

He had the role- holy shit, he had managed to get the role, and against MJ at that!

The man pulled away and turned to the directors, telling them things Lukas could barely hear over the cacophony his minds was making. Still, inside him… A feeling of pride and accomplishment was growing, enveloping him. A wave of excitement followed, and it was hard not to jump around in pure joy and satisfaction.

Maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

=> Chapter 09

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bsbloglife · 4 years ago

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Friday, September 3rd, 2021

Today was my last day at Florida Cancer Specialists as a nurse practitioner, but the first day of the rest of my life. Soon enough I’ll be on another adventure. This time my adventure has me traveling back home to Vaudreuil-Dorion in Quebec, Canada, to see my parents and help them navigate through a difficult time in their lives. The only thing is, they have no idea what it took for me to embark on this new adventure. For if they did, they would have forbade it. I know they would not have wanted me to end a career that I worked so hard for. I know they wouldn’t want me to be separated from my children and my husband for weeks at a time. I also know they don’t want to be a burden, but I consider it an honor and a privilege to sacrifice my life as I know it to be there in their time of need. They did everything they could to help me and my husband make a life here in the United States of America. The least I can do is be there for them in their most desperate moment.

On May 6, 2021, my parents were in a house fire. Luckily I didn’t lose them that night, but they lost a sense of security, they lost their home as they knew it. Since that night they’ve been in a hotel. Four long months. They’ve had a caregiver 24/7, two Filipino women who alternate days/nights, so that my parents have someone with them at all times. Since then, my parents mental, physical and spiritual health have gone downhill. Unfortunately I live so far away and I haven’t been there for them. This guilt weighs heavily on my mind, my soul and my heart.

I was at that point in my life where I felt I had to choose between my parents’ well-being and my life as I knew it. I knew that the right thing to do was to go back home and see for myself what was going on. I was getting calls from the doctor that saw my parents in the hotel room, telling me that my father was rotting in the bed. I was getting calls from the caregivers that my mother was too depressed to go anywhere. I received a message that my father was having rectal bleeding and didn’t want to do anything about it. Was told that my mother had to start taking antidepressants. Even after my brother’s death 22 years ago she never started on antidepressants and now I find out that she was forced to by the doctor. This physician told me that my mother’s mental state was very poor. There was so much more going on, that I really had no choice. It is an honor and a privilege to take care of my parents, but leaving my life as I know it and my family was a very painful decision. Though I am proud of myself for having the courage to do it. The choice was really simple and easy; be there for my parents. The difficult part was the realization of what this easy and simple choice was going to mean; be separated from my children and husband for weeks at a time, lose my career, and leave behind my life as I know it.

That being said, today was my last day. I didn’t want to say goodbye to my colleagues and my career. I loved each person that I met. They all meant so much to me. They touched my heart as I touched theirs. Well, let’s just say that the hearts I touched are the ones that were open to being touched. Some people keep their hearts guarded, they believe that work is not a place to make friends. It’s too bad, because I know that some of them had good kind hearts behind that armor. I will tell you, those beautiful souls that I connected with, will forever hold a place in my heart. I cannot wait to see how my new “blossoming garden of friendships” grows. I told these new buds that this was not the end, this was only the beginning. The sun will still shine upon them and I will continue to water them so they grow strong. I know that we will nurture our new found connections, because I told them all that these friendships were going to be lifelong. Just because the sun set on my time with them at FCS, it has only risen on the dawn of my newest adventure. In this garden, the sun will always shine enough to provide the correct amount of sunlight to help each blossom grow. I will tend to my garden so that each blossoming bud continues to grow into that beautiful flower that I know it will become. We all know the saying, “Friends are like flowers in the garden of life”. Some do wither and die when it’s their time and others keep growing strong, but there are always new ones growing all the time.

Now I find myself on a cliff, about to jump into the darkness of whatever lies before me. I have no idea what comes next. I’ve never been in this position and I can tell you, it’s scary. I’m excited by the idea of this new adventure, but also a little nervous because I don’t know what kind of an adventure this will be. Yet I am confident that everything will turn out ok.

I was told to leave it in God’s hands, because he will take care of everything. So this I shall do.

Coraggio! Courage!

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hellflame-for-a-reason · 4 years ago

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Ingenium Fracta

Chapter three: Fear and pain

Tw: funerals, doctors, suffocation, nightmares.

"Dear friends and family, we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Iida Tenya; honoured friend, beloved son and brother. He was a good young man, taken from us too soon. Tenya was a model student and a perfect future hero, who was taken from us by an event none could see happen. It's safe to say that he's in a better place now, he's-"

There had been a funeral, the entire class had shown up. No one really spoke, it was nice catching up with Tensei he supposed, but the fact that it was at a funeral for the poor man's brother really put a damper on things. Aizawa had never felt more guilty for anything in his life, he couldn't believe he'd let a student die like that, how could he be a teacher now?

They never even found the body, Aizawa figured it was because Iida had been fighting Shigaraki at the time. That poor boy, Aizawa couldn't imagine what his family was going through. Class 1-A had completely refused to vote in a new class president, seeming offended at the very idea. Aizawa couldn't blame them at all and he managed to get Nezu to agree that the class would be fine with only a vice president. It was going to be a bit difficult for poor Momo but she was adamant she could manage, replacing Iida would be an insult.

Recently, Aizawa had found himself having regular nightmares about losing more students. It was one of those nights where Hizashi found him, he didn't know where Hizashi had been but he didn't really care. All that mattered to Aizawa was that his loving husband was now holding him gently, "Sho? What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?" He nodded in response and was suddenly lifted up and placed onto Hizashi's lap, a hand combing through his hair, "it's ok babe, it wasn't real, it's just a nightmare."

"I dreamt I lost more students…"

"Oh Shouta…" Hizashi kissed the top of his head, "it isn't your fault, it never was. You couldn't have known the villains would be there, no one could."

"But…" he was crying now, "I'm supposed to be their teacher, Hizashi, I'm supposed to be a hero!"

"You are a hero! You're EraserHead! Those kids adore you Sho! And they don't hold a single thing against you, please don't hold it against yourself." He was brushing Aizawa's hair now, making sure to be careful of all the knots and tangles. Aizawa had no idea where he found such a perfect husband, he certainly didn't deserve someone so loving. "You did everything you could, but you had to watch the whole class, it's understandable that one slipped through the cracks."

It was silent for a bit after that, Aizawa just sat there trying to process Hizashi's words as the husband in question continued to brush his hair- he was braiding it now. It was very bad when Aizawa couldn't sleep, he usually slept through everything, his thoughts had to be incredibly bad if they were keeping him awake. The guilt that followed losing a student was more than enough though, not only that but it had been the class president, it had been Tenya Iida, Aizawa used to be in the same class as Tensei; the guy was the sweetest, most caring hero they had in their class. It really showed when he saw how Tenya behaved with class 1-A, everything he did reminded Aizawa of Tensei, but now seeing Tensei's face at the funeral, Aizawa had only seen Tenya. What a horrific way for the tables to turn.

The Iida's were a proud family, with a long and incredible lineage; they'd been doing good for people before quirks even evolved. Aizawa had always known them to be a little stuck up in their attitudes, Tensei being the clear outlier- the more he'd seen of Tenya, the more he realised both the Iida brothers were outliers. The funeral had been the first time he'd ever seen any of the Iida's cry- well except from Tenya, who had cried when the hero killer had hurt Tensei and was now unable to cry at all, or even feel emotions. Aizawa couldn't blame Iida's parents for crying; their baby had just died after all. They'd had one hell of a year, first Tensei's legs and now their youngest son.

A child had died. That was the hardest part for Aizawa to cope with; the fact that a child, barely 16, had died due to his failings as both a teacher and a hero. The civilians that had been on the same floor had praised Iida, commenting that they had felt safe around the next Ingenium. They told everyone about how cool and composed he had been when instructing them to evacuate and then one even mentioned him running in to disarm the villain. Aizawa honestly couldn't have been prouder of the kid, Iida had been the perfect picture of a model hero. That's what it was all about, saving and protecting the public. That was why Aizawa was a failure; he couldn't even save one child.

Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do now. It was too late to save him. So all Aizawa and everyone else could hope to do was move on and grow from it, he had argued with Nezu for the fourth time about getting his class a specialist councillor and he'd finally agreed to it, saying he'd look for one. His kids really needed it, Aizawa could well imagine how the death of a classmate felt to them, and it wasn't any classmate either; it was their beloved class president. When the news was broken to them, Aizawa had even seen Mineta and Bakugou shedding tears, and neither of them were even friends with Iida.

It was safe to say that everyone would miss the boy greatly, Aizawa didn't even like calling him a boy; Tenya Iida had proven himself more of a man then Aizawa was. The hero course favoured the flashy and the violent, but true heroes like Iida were really overlooked. Aizawa would make sure to praise the model students he had in the future, he shouldn't waste so.much time with the problem children. There should be a balance; heroes are supposed to be the protectors, but who protects the heroes? Aizawa would've liked to say it was him, but clearly he was lacking in that department.

Black smoke, filling his lungs, stealing his air. He was choking, he was on the floor. He'd been asked to revv his engines, to show what they could do, now he was choking on his own exhaust fumes. He was on the floor, when did he fall to the floor? There was yelling all around him and he wasn't sure what was going on in the slightest. He felt his consciousness slipping away from him as he gasped for air, his eyes were shut tight but he could feel the tears running down his face. He finally lost consciousness as he heard one of the men yelling, "get both! Just in case!"

When he came to, he was laying in a bed. Judging by the room it was probably Toga's bed, the mattress was so soft and the aching feeling in his legs didn't feel so bad when he lay there. He was surrounded by Toga, the burnt man and three men Tenya hadn't met yet. One man was wearing a full body suit, in blacks and greys, the second man was clearly just a mechanic, the third being a doctor, both the two regular men were clearly being held at gunpoint. Tenya had the vague idea that this was illegal, but he was too tired to think much of it.

"Are you alright kid?" The burnt man asked, putting a hand on the bed frame, "apparently part of your engine got disconnected and we had to get a doctor and a mechanic to fix it for you."

"Oh," Tenya paused, he hadn't considered the fact that bring trapped under rubble would affect his engines, although to be fair, he didn't really understand how his engines worked- or at least he'd forgotten, "well they do kind of ache…"

The doctor nodded, "that'd be the stitches, they'll ache for a little while but they should degrade on their own… can I go home now?" The mechanic looked just as desperate to leave as the doctor, and both men were led downstairs by the man in the catsuit.

Toga sat on the bed next to him, "normally I like seeing boys all injured like that, but that was really scary- there wasn't even any blood!" She frowned at him, "are you sure you're alright? I don't want my new friend dying on me!"

"I'm fine, don't worry. I'm from very hardy stock."

The burnt man raised an eyebrow at that, "do you remember what stock? Recall any family members?"

"Hmm…" unfortunately Tenya still couldn't remember anything about his family outside of his last name, "still no, my apologies."

"Don't apologize kid, they abandoned you too didn't they? Didn't even care that their kid 'died', only about those poor, defenseless heroes."

"Yeah!" Toga added, frowning, "those meanie heros left you to die! You shouldn't care about them!"

Tenya nodded, that made sense to him. The thought of people calling themselves heroes leaving someone to die in a wreckage made his blood boil- he hoped that didn't translate to his engine, he didn't want to put any strain on it at the moment. Instead he just watched them leave the room, and he settled down for a nap; he may as well use Toga's bed whilst he had it.

Dispite Kurogiri's concern, Tenya had ended up moving into Toga's room anyway; they were the only ones close enough in age and since Tenya was gay and Toga already had a crush, the adults figured it would be fine. Tenya had been happy to help the burnt man, who Tenya later found out was named Dabi, set up his bed. Kurogiri even bought him an Ingenium poster, which Tenya found off because he could have sworn that *he* was Ingenium… but nevertheless, Tenya found it very nice of him, he hadn't been expecting that. The man known as Twice somehow managed to get him a new pair of glasses as his last pair had been broken, he'd also bought Tenya some bedsheets and pillow covers, as well as many books to help Tenya keep up with his studies.

In fact, Tenya was studying when Toga looked over at his book, "whatcha doin'?"

"I'm reading about algebra, see?" He showed her the notebook he was trying the questions in, "it's like maths but there's letters! It's rather fun!"

"Why would there be letters in maths? That doesn't make any sense!"

He chuckled at that, shuffling to the side so she could get on the bed with him, "oh it's easy when you think about it, come on; I'll show you." He put his bookmark in the book and flipped back a few chapters, understanding that Toga would probably need something a little easier.

"Let's try something simple, okay?" He smiled at her, beginning to write the question down when she nodded. "So let's say that A means one, and B means two, what would A plus B make?" He wrote the question down as he said it, making sure it was clear.

She nodded slowly, taking the pen from Tenya as she slowly wrote down the answer, at least she understood basic maths- although her handwriting was terrible. "Is it three? Or do I have to write down another number?"

"Well technically you're right, unfortunately the rules of algebra dictate that the answer would be AB."

Toga proceeded to look at Tenya like he was a moron, "so it's not even numbers? Why is it still maths?"

He sighed, unsure of how to explain it to her, "well you've got to figure out how to shorten the question I suppose, it doesn't entirely make sense- but that's what makes it so fun!" He smiled, knowing there was no point in explain it to her, she hadn't finished middle school so there wasn't much of a chance of her grasping algebra.

"You're so weird Ten-chan! Stick to liking murder like the rest of us!" She giggled, they both knew there was no malice behind that, her genuine smile showed that. Toga got off of the bed and went back to her own, toying with her knife. "Do you want to talk about Izuku?"

"Who?" Tenya didn't think he'd ever heard that name before, but he had a funny feeling of deja vu from it.

"Huh?" Toga was once again looking at Tenya like he was stupid, "you know? Green hair, freckles? Sometimes goes by Deku? Izuku Midoriya?"

A gasp, "Midoriya?" Tenya knew Midoriya, he loved Midoriya! Midoriya was his best friend, was Izuku his first name? Tenya felt a little guilty that he didn't know his best friend's full name, or even how he looked. To be fair though, he did have memory issues, so he couldn't be blamed really.

"Yeah! That's Izuku's last name! You wanna talk about him?"

"Of course I want to talk about Midoriya! He's my best friend!"

Toga giggled, taking out her phone and beginning to show him the photos she'd taken. They were photos of Midoriya, Tenya instantly recognized him, despite not remembering his face. The fear on his face in every photo was particularly familiar, and Tenya found himself having flashes of an image in his head, of nothing but pure worry and stress on Midoriya's face. Toga snapped him back to reality, beaming happily, "isn't he cute??"

Tenya had to nod at that, "his hair is very fluffy, and I like his freckles." He did agree with Toga, Midoriya was a lot more adorable than Tenya had expected. This was his best friend? Oh Tenya must be the best at making friends then, to befriend someone so pretty.

"I know, right? I like him best when he's covered in blood!"

"Why?"

A moment of silence and Toga paused, "I don't know, just think he's attractive," she shrugged, clearly not having a real answer. Tenya didn't really mind, he was just curious, he didn't actually care either way.

#iida tenya #eraserhead #villain!iida #toga himiko #dabi #twice #kurogiri #present mic

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suganovakawa · 5 years ago

Text

i don’t think i’ll ever be able to account of how thankful i am for haikyuu. words alone couldn’t describe how much of an impact a simple anime has left me with.

knowing it’s finally reached its end is beyond mind boggling to me. even after just learning about haikyuu this year, watching every season like my life depended on it, it’s put me through a whole rollercoaster of emotions. i don’t think people understand how powerful this anime is; how furudate turned volleyball, a sport that’s not too popular amongst others, into something that millions will remember as long as they live.

through shoyo hinata, tobio kageyama, karasuno, and so many others, we were able to live through what it was like to thrive on the court— the small morals and lessons that were taught to each and every one of us. endless players putting all they have, all that they are, out in the open for their opponents to see. the passion all of the teams put into their games is truly admirable, and just watching the matches made adrenaline run through my veins.

i felt goosebumps, chills, the rush of scoring points. through haikyuu i could feel the heart wrenching pain of losing a game, as well as the triumph of emerging victorious after a long, strenuous battle. as a libero myself, my arms felt sore after watching a game. i looked up to nishinoya throughout the whole series, using him as my motivation and inspiration to improve upon my own abilities as a defense specialist. because of him, i can say with great pride that i have indeed improved (as well as improvement can go during quarantine), and that’s just the beginning.

in just a short amount of time, haikyuu has taught me so many things. i may not have been part of the fandom for very long, but the impact this anime has left on me will always be cherished in my heart. each character brought important lessons to the table (or should i say court?), and seeing how it can all come full circle in the end is the most beautiful thing i could ever think of.

haikyuu taught me to never give up, to always put your everything into what you love most, and that anything is possible when you put your everything into it. to take that passion, and utilize it. use it to its full potential, because with it, you’ll go far. the best example is our wonderful tangerine baby. coming from middle school, merely watching a nationals match through a tv screen on his way to school— next thing you know, shoyo becomes the inspiration that led him to becoming the talented pro player he is today. starting off by practicing alone in middle school, to practicing with the best of the best in the pro leagues, it’s truly an inspiration to see how far passion can take you. hinata defied doubt, and that really stuck out to me.

living through the world of haikyuu reminded me of why i love volleyball, and why i joined in the first place. knowing the characters held the same amount of passion towards the sport as i once did when i first started— it rekindled the fire in me, and i’ve had a profound love of the sport like never before. using the lessons that haikyuu has taught me, i’m going to push myself forward, whether it be in volleyball, academics, or any other avenue i wish to pursue.

so, thank you, furudate. thank you for a beautiful, inspirational eight years. you’ve touched the hearts of many people, and the emotions you gave us with every episode will be cherished in many hearts. thank you for every character you introduced to us throughout the entire series, and thank you for the lessons you’ve instilled in those who embrace the passion as their own.

and my own personal little appreciation for the birthday boy, tooru oikawa. the great king deserves every bit of attention he gets. the lessons he’s taught me are to cherish forever. he’s my favorite character for a reason. he fought for what he has just as much as everyone else did, and it did him amazing at the end. the impact he left on everyone else is astonishing, and he’s got his own protagonist aura about him that he deserves entirely. to not spoil for anyone who hasn’t read the finale i won’t go into specifics, but i assure you, he’s nicknamed the great king for a reason. tooru, i love you. i genuinely look up to you, and even though you were nothing but a little shit when you first appeared, there was so much more to your character that made me completely enamored. and though i love every character in haikyuu, you’ll always have a special place in my heart.

this anime will always be my favorite, and it will forever be that way. i could ramble on ages about how haikyuu has changed me, but i’ll settle for what i’ve written above.

maybe it’s scary that i’ve grown so attached to each and every one of these characters? i can’t help it. their color, their individuality, their personalities... you really can’t help but fall in love with each and every one of them. even if they are purely fiction, they’re my role models, the beacons of hope i look up to, because that’s what they deserve.

the most important thing furudate taught us is that haikyuu was never about winning. volleyball shouldn’t be about winning or losing. while victory is a bonus, what players should always remember from it is the journey they took to get to where they stand, and the people you meet along the way. the relationships and impacts a simple sport can bestow upon you, is humbling, in a sense. volleyball is, indeed, about having fun. and furudate damn well made us remember that with that beautiful, tear-jerking finale. haikyuu is a never ending cycle for those involved, and the anime will continue to live on, even after the final arc.

all good things must come to an end, but i’ll still cherish haikyuu everyday, because the lessons and emotions it gave me will always be eternal. i would say farewell, my paradise, but really, i’m not going anywhere! i’m going to be sitting here within the fandom, keeping the anime alive as it should be.

and so, with that said,

happy birthday, tooru oikawa.

and,

thank you, furudate.

thank you, haikyuu.

thank you for showing me that my dreams are worth chasing, and that i can have the courage to do anything.

#god im gonna sob #wow i really went off huh #thank you haikyuu #thank you furudate #i love this anime #haikyuu!!#hq #karasuno #aoba johsai #shiratorizawa #nekoma #date tech #inarizaki #itachiyama

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thebibliosphere · 5 years ago

Note

Thanks for posting about your pots. My niece's goes nuts around her cycle as well (working at a desk and it goes from 60's to 194 for no reason or hangs out in the 100's while she's sleeping according to her watch) and the doctors don't have a clue. Just keep telling us they aren't sure why such and such happens. No baseline for what to expect. Do you have trouble with foods too? She has a terrible time with processed foods, especially MSG or nitrates.

I’m sorry to hear she’s dealing with that. There is a condition that is often comorbid with things like POTS, and that is MCAS or Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, which stems from the same genetic disorder, Ehler’s Danlos Syndrome, which can often cause POTS to occur as well. It’s sort of like the trifecta of genetic mutational fuckery.

I have all three of these, and while I was born with EDS and didn’t know I had it until last month when I finally got to see a specialist who knows how to accurately diagnose it, I had been showing symptoms of MCAS and POTS for decades. And one of the hallmarks of MCAS is problems with certain foods, specifically to high histamine foods, which include very highly processed foods (hint: it’s the preservatives) MSG and most foods with naturally occurring nitrates.

I’m going to put all of this next bit under a cut because it is long and very triggery for some people to read, but I think it might be vital that your niece looks into MCAS.

So here’s the deal with MCAS. I test negative for 98% of the foods I react to, and this is because the allergic reaction is caused by my mast cells being wonky. The reason it doesn’t pop up as an allergic reaction is that allergists will primarily look for an IgE reaction (usually occurs after immediate exposure to trigger) vs an IgG and IgA which slowly build up in the system over time, and will eventually lead to a mast cell degranulation episode, which can be extremely dangerous, as some of us will experience anaphylaxis. I can eat something with MSG and be fine at first, but then gradually over a couple of hours, I will get sicker and sicker and become more symptomatic. If my body is overloaded on histamine, which it was for many, many years, I would go into what appeared to be idiopathic anaphylaxis, or “anaphylaxis with no known cause”.

Needless to say, this is terrifying to experience, and if your niece is having symptoms similar to mine, especially with food issues, she needs to speak to a doctor about this asap because mine went from “wow I get migraines when I eat something with MSG in it” to “nearly starved to death in two years because I lost nearly every single food group” because the MCAS destroyed my body. I was living on filtred water and oats for nearly two years, with occasional bouts of being able to eat plain chicken. It was not fun. Hopefully, your niece is not as badly affected as I am, but the MSG and the nitrates thing just set the red alarm bells going off in my head, cause those used to be my only two main food issues, and now I have a bajillion of them.

It wasn’t until I saw a dietician last year, who was able to diagnose me with histamine intolerance disorder and set me on the path toward obtaining my MCAS diagnosis, that I got any sort of relief. I did a histamine elimination diet with her guidance, and in the last year I have gone from being able to eat two things, to being able to eat 14 different things and am recovering, and it is hoped with continued MCAS treatment I will soon stabilize enough to be able to eat a lot more. Getting my MCAS under control has also brought a great deal of my POTS symptoms under control. The reason mine flares up so badly around my menstrual cycle, is because I’m allergic to my own hormones (estrogen) and it causes my mast cells to go haywire, making me more symptomatic overall. This is also a common sign of MCAS, or at the very least, a tendency toward histamine intolerance which is like, the lower end of the MCAS spectrum.

If you want to read more or give her some things to look into before speaking with her doctor, here are some good sites:

https://www.mastattack.org/

https://www.mastcelldisease.com/mcas-doctors/ (this whole website is good, but Michelle’s directory of knowledgeable MCAS doctors is very useful)

http://www.dysautonomiainternational.org/

and also https://healinghistamine.com/ sadly Yasmina is no longer with us after a protracted battle with breast cancer, but her website remains an invaluable resource for people trying to figure out how to feed themselves with histamine intolerance. She was also far ahead of the research, and a lot of the studies coming out at the moment are validating a lot of her theories and I truly wish she were still here to see it.

I know I just dumped a whole crap ton of scary-sounding stuff on you, and I apologize for that, but when you asked about food, well, this is kinda my whole schtick. The important thing to know is that with adequate care and lifestyle changes, it does get better.

I’ve been in remission from the worst of my MCAS symptoms for over a year now, and while I always need to be vigilant, I feel like I’ve got enough of a handle on it to stop living my life terrified. Of course, it also helps that I now have doctors who know what the frick is going on. Always very useful.

If her POTS symptoms are more debilitating than her food allergies/issues, then focusing on that might be more urgent and she needs to talk to a cardiologist about POTS, but just be aware that a lot of POTS symptoms are actually an MCAS symptom.

I hope this wasn’t too alarming and was in fact useful. And if you ever want to ask me more things, please feel free to do so and we can get a dialogue going. All the best and take care, and give my best to your niece as well.

#chronic health tag #long post #mcas #life with allergies #pots #life with mcas #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #histamine intolerance #links #marvelousmindloki

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chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 82

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

The storm rolls in shortly before nine; torrential rain and howling winds that rattle the windows, bend tree branches, and strip them of leaves. Both the thunder and lightning are intense and incessant; resounding booms that seem to shake the entire house and forks of silver that slice through the coal black sky. The sudden change in weather does little to improve Tyler’s mood; the pressure in the air bringing a migraine that settles in both temples and over his left eye. While the sadness and hints of guilt, regret, and even embarrassment have faded, they’ve been replaced with emotions much more profound and unsettling. Immense hatred. Blinding rage. A desperate and powerful want and need for revenge.

It’s been almost three months since it all began. Kicking off with Mahajan’s badgering of his son in regards to taking over the ‘family business’, escalating into threats against his family that grew more disturbing with each passing day, and culminating in an unwanted return to Dhaka. It’s complicated and twisted; each hour brings an added layer that only pushes the finish line further and further away. His physical pain may be worsening; but it’s his mental stability that is the most concerning. Unable to turn off the emotionally driven side of him and solely look at things from a mercenary’s point of view. He knows he’s on the edge; barely hanging on his last shred of sanity. The games have taken their toll; hearing vile things about his wife and children serving as the final nails in the coffin. Even if he does survive with his body intact, he’s not sure if his brain will be as fortunate. It’s a no win situation. Whether it’s a busted up body or a broken mind, he’ll suffer either way. And so will his family.

He places a call to Kyle’s cell phone, grimacing at the pain that shoots through his right leg and across the small of his back as he takes a seat at the end of the bed. Anil had one of his ‘people’ stop by; a physician originally from Mumbai who’d not only taken the CEO position at one of Dhaka’s private hospitals, but holds the utmost contempt for both the ghost of Amir Asif and those still pledging loyalty to him.

“He’s been dead for seven years,” he’d said. “Yet he’s still sending me patients and putting bodies in my morgue. Old, young; his drugs and his people do not discriminate.”

That had been the extent of conversation. No small talk exchanged as he put Tyler through a series of physical tests to determine the state of his mobility issues. The doctor offering little more than heavy sighs and shakes of head as he discovered things were worse than he initially suspected. Torn ligaments and tendons, the disintegration of cartilage, scar tissue. A lengthy list of things that could be causing problems but would definitely have to be properly -and extensively- investigated by a specialist. For the time being, there’s nothing anyone can do, aside from prescribing yet another painkiller with strict orders that someone else be in charge of dispensing it. He can’t be trusted to do it himself; the first one to admit that he has absolutely no control over the demon of drug addiction. And he’d been more than happy to hand over the responsibility; as long as he’d get some relief.

So far he's pleasantly surprised; the two pills he’d taken an hour ago successfully -and quickly- taking the edge off without making him feel ‘doped up’. The pain is still present, but nowhere as intense or unbearable. Relegated to a dull, continuous throb akin to the agony of a bad toothache.

Kyle answers on the third ring, giving a quick ‘hey’ followed by “I’ll get one of the kids for you.” It’s the first time they’ve spoken since right before he and Esme had left for Dhaka; Kyle still sore over the fact he’d been called out for his poor treatment of his sister.

“Hold up,” Tyler says, smirking at the sound of his brother in law’s heavy sigh. “How’s things there? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Things are okay.”

“Okay as in good or okay as in they could be better?"

“If you’re just asking about the kids, then things are okay as in good. Ovi and I are making sure we keep them busy; filling their days up. And they’re happy as they can be when they’re missing both their mom and dad as much as they are. It’s hard on them; both of you being gone. But they’re doing alright. They’re coping. We’re busting our asses to make sure they don’t catch wind of what’s really going on.”

“Thanks for that. Esme and I appreciate it. Keep an eye on Millie though. She figured everything out, and while she promised she wouldn’t say anything to her brothers, I wouldn’t put it past her if they pissed her off enough. Nothing she loves more than tormenting those two.”

Kyle gives a small chuckle. “I’ll keep an eye on her. There hasn’t been any actual fights so far, but she has threatened to beat their asses a few times. You know, she’s a mind fuck that kid. She’s so sweet and cute to look at…

“But she’s a total savage,” Tyler finishes for him.

“Exactly. She doesn’t take any shit. Esme was like that as a kid; no one dared messing with her because she’d beat the ever loving hell out of them. Small, but tough. How is she? She doing okay?”

“She’s hanging in there. Just ready for all this to be over. Sooner the better. Anything going on there? Anything weird or suspicious or…”

“Other than Anil going ape shit on all the nannies and replacing them all? Things have been pretty quiet. There’s been a couple little things here and there; people getting too close to the house, calling here and hanging up, dead cat thrown over the fence.”

“That’s all rookie stuff. Someone trying to unnerve ya. I wouldn’t put too much stock into it; guys who can really do damage start bigger and end even bigger. They don’t bother with bullshit like that. You’ll call, yeah? If things get any weirder?”

“I will,” Kyle promises. “Keep my little sister safe, okay? I wish she wasn’t involved in this at all, but..”

“She’s safe with me. She always is. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But I wish she’d never gotten dragged into all of this in the first place. And I’m not talking now. I’m talking seven years ago. If you’d just thought of her instead of yourself…”

“Is that daddy?” Millie’s voice interrupts Kyle before he can launch into his tirade. “Mommy said daddy was going to call us. Is that him? Can I talk to him? I want to talk to him.”

There’s a slight rustling noise as the phone is passed from person to person, and the first smile of the day manages to make its way to his face when his daughter greets him with a cheerful “Hi daddy! I miss you!”

He tries not to think about it; the threat made against her and the knowledge of what would be done to her. She’s only six. Still a baby. HIS baby. “Hey,” he says. “Hey baby girl.”

“Mommy said you’d call and you did! She said you were feeling a bit sad ‘cause you miss us so much.”

“I am a bit sad,” Tyler admits. “I do miss you guys. You being good?”

“I’m trying. But TJ really tests my patience. He’s so annoying! Why does he have to be so annoying?”

“Because he knows it bothers you. Just try to ignore him”

“It’s hard!” Millie laments. “It’s really, REALLY hard. It’s like he wants me to punch him in the face.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t punch anyone in the face.”

“But I’m not a pacifist. I’d rather ‘pass a fist’.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“I’m not a snitch. Snitches get stitches.”

“How about you rein in your temper a bit,” he suggests. “Just take it from the source. He’s doing it to get a reaction. Don’t give him one. That’ll irritate him and he’ll get bored and back off. How are you? You doing okay?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I miss home. Can we go back soon? Are you almost done your work? I really want to go home.”

“So do I. And it’ll be over soon.”

“And then you and mommy will come and get us and take us home?”

“As soon as it’s over. Once it’s done, we’ll come and get you guys. I promise.”

“Maybe next time we go on a trip, we can go to Disney World. That would be fun.”

“Have you been talking to Tanner?”

“Maybe…” Millie sing songs.

“Tell you what, when we get home, your mom and I will talk about it, okay?”

“Okay. Is it stormy where you are? It’s really stormy here. It’s kinda scary! The thunder is really loud and it’s really windy. It never gets THIS bad at home. We get storms, but they’re not as scary as this one. I wish you were here; it wouldn’t be as scary. You always built a fort in the living room so we can all sleep together and we won’t be afraid. You always make it fun. Like we’re on a camping trip. We forget about being scared when you’re with us. I wish you were here, daddy.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat. “I wish I was there too.”

“Did you watch my video? I sent it to your email. Did you get it?”

“I did. But I haven’t watched it yet. I was going to do that before bed. So I could have good dreams instead of bad ones.”

“That’s a good idea! Maybe you can send ME a video and I can watch it before bed and that way I’LL have good dreams too.”

“You know what I’ll do? I’ll make a video for all of you and then you can all watch it before bed. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!”

“I gotta go. I’ve got an important meeting I have to get to. But I’ll make the video and I’ll send it to Auntie Nik’s email. You tell her I’m doing that, okay?”

“Okay. I miss you, daddy. I love you.”

“I miss you too. And I love you. ALL of you. So much. And I’ll see you guys in a few days.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.” He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. “I promise.”

****

It takes four attempts before he gets a usable video to send to the kids; trying to keep it light and cheerful and finding himself stumbling over his words and fighting back tears. The last thing he wanted was to turn a bedtime message into something so dark and depressing. Even Millie -who is incredibly intuitive and had known from the start that Mumbai wasn’t a normal family holiday- doesn’t know the full extent of just how serious things are. He doesn’t want to scare them; seeing daddy emotional will only cause them to ask questions no one truly has answers for. And it would only send their fears and anxiety -especially Tanner’s- through the roof. In the end he’d been able to hold it together. Reciting one of their favorite bedtime stories by heart and telling them how much he loves them and misses them; promising that they’ll all be heading home soon. The latter had actually helped lift his own spirits. Saying the words out loud doing wonders for his confidence; the promise itself -and not wanting to break it- giving his motivation a desperately needed kick in the ass.

By the time he journeys downstairs, Yaz has already arrived; joining Esme, Koen, Rata and two of Anil’s men -who’d been ordered to help out in each and every way possible- in the living room. And the younger man pauses in the setting up of his laptop in order to greet Tyler with a warm, tight hug and a playful backhand to an unshaven cheek. He sees the exhaustion that clouds Yaz’ eyes and dampens his smile; his own fears and worries revolving around a heavily pregnant girlfriend back home. It’s been hell on everyone; long hours and restless sleep and one stumbling block after another. There’s finally some light at the end of that very long and winding tunnel. It’s faint, but at least it’s there.

He pours himself a coffee from the freshly brewed pot in the kitchen and then joins the others. Returning Esme’s smile as she looks up at him, giving her a wink before taking a seat beside her and then pressing a kiss to her temple as he leans into her. Her hand slides along his inner thigh and then settles on his knee; squeezing lightly before her fingers locate the most tender area and begin digging and manipulating. She doesn’t need to be asked; always knowing where the painful spots are and never hesitating to provide even the smallest bit of relief.

“I hope this weather isn’t some kind of bloody omen,” Raka grumbles. Nervously bouncing his legs and both jumping and looking towards the sliding glass doors with each boom of thunder that shakes the house.

“Forty damn years old and he’s scared of a wee storm,” Koen scoffs.

Rata glares at him. “A wee storm? Sounds like Mother Nature is getting ready to blow shit up!”

“Do you need your favorite blanket? A warm bottle of milk? Someone to cuddle with you? It’s nothing but some wind and a bit of rain.”

“That’s more than just some wind and some rain!” his friend argues. “It’s like the end of the world out there! And if this some kind of omen about how things are going to go down…”

“Ain’t no bloody omen!” Koen laughs “Don’t tell me you believe in all that shit. Signs and karma and all that hoodoo voodoo, hocus pocus crap!”

“I d0n’t know,” Esme says, as she reaches for a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. “I like to think that karma exists and that it finally caught up to my ex. Because if anyone deserved to be hit head on by the karma bus, it was him.”

Tyler nods in agreement and takes a swig of coffee.

“So what’s it looking like?” Koen addresses Yaz. “End getting close or what?”

“Depends on what news you guys have for me. I know where I stand on my end of things. What about over here?”

“I was able to get an extra twenty four hours,” Esme says. “But I really had to up the ante; an extra five million wasn’t going to cut it. I had to promise another ten. I tried to talk them down, but it was either the extra ten or pieces of Neysa and Aarev start washing up on the shores of Buriganga in a few days' time.”

“And Anil was willing to up that much?” Yaz asks. “IF it comes down to having to pay the ransom?”

“He didn’t hesitate when I told him. I don’t know where he gets all his money from, but he acted like it was nothing more than pocket change. He’s prepared to pay IF all else fails. But they still won’t give me proof of life unless I agree to meet them at Asif’s house and have them take me to where they’re being held.”

“Which is NOT happening,” Tyler says. “There’s no way in hell that’s happening.”

“Now hold on a second,” Koen speaks up. “It’s the way that makes the most sense.”

Tyler frowns. “What are you talking about? It makes no sense. You really think they’re going to keep their word? That they won’t hurt her? They’ll use her as bait. She won’t get anywhere near Neysa and Aarev; they won’t take her there. They’ll keep her at Asif’s and do God knows what to her until I show up to get her out.”

“She won’t be going alone,” Koen points out.

“I don’t give a shit if there’s ten of you going with her. She’s not doing this. She’s not going there. No fucking way.”

“But when they take her there...US there...you just follow behind and…”

“You’re not hearing me, mate. They won’t take her anywhere. They’ll kill you, then use her to bait me. And they’ll do all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her. You’re just going to take them at their word that they won’t hurt her? I know you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you’re not THAT stupid.”

“Okay….” Esme speaks up. “...why don’t we all calm down and talk through all of this rationally. There’s got to be another way to find out where Neysa and Aarev are that doesn’t involve having to go to Asif’s house. We all know it’s a trap. We can’t trust a single word they say and there no doubt in my mind they’d keep me in order to get Tyler to show up.”

“She’s NOT going,” Tyler stresses. “End of story. After tonight, her part in this is down. She did everything we needed her to do. Enough’s enough. I’m not risking her or the…” he catches himself. “...I’m not risking her. We gotta find another way.”

“I think I have one.” Yaz says. “It unfortunately does involve sending people to Asif’s house, but not in an official capacity. What if I can get people to plant tracking devices on a few of the cars that are always coming in and out of there? We’ve had eyes on that place since we got here; there’s a constant flow of the same six vehicles going in and out at all hours of the day. If I can get some guys close enough to put some GPS trackers in place, we just sit back and see if any of them visit a storage facility.”

“The storage thing was just something I pulled out of my ass,” Tyler admits. “What I saw in the pictures and the videos reminded me of where we held McMann. That’s the only reason I said. Could be a factory or a warehouse for all I know.”

“What if it’s Asif’s basement?” Esme asks. “Does that place have one? Or a cold cellar or something like that? Cements walls and floors? Could be a basement or a cellar of some kind. It would explain no windows.”

“Well that makes it even more complicated if it is,” Koen grumbles. “How would we ever find that out? We can’t just go on up and knock on the front door and ask for a tour.”

“Any way of getting eyes in there?” Tyler asks Yaz. “It wouldn’t hurt ruling it out. Kind of fitting if it is where they’re holding them. Almost like they’re offering them up as some sacrifice to Asif. Appease the Gods of whatever the fuck they believe in.”

“I’d have to study the blueprints again,” Yaz says. “I didn’t see a basement, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. A lot could have changed since the originals were made; people renovate and add on all the time. We definitely need to check it out. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Can you do it?” Tyler inquires. “Get eyes in there?”

“It’ll be hard. But I’m sure I can come up with something. There’s got to be a way of getting in there without tripping the alarms or grabbing their attention. I’ll work on it.”

“I think the bigger worry right now is the bridges,” Esme pipes up. “Koen and I saw it with our own eyes. They are locked down and both the police AND the military are manning the road blocks. And they have pictures of me, of Tyler, and they’re comparing them to everyone that goes in or out. Whether they’re walking or driving.”

“They do have them locked pretty tight,” Koen confirms. “There’s no way we could get him across without him being seen.”

“What about going in from the north?” Esme suggests. “Does anyone know if they’ve got things blocked off up there too? If you go north into one of the smaller towns, you can backtrack your way into Dhaka, You can’t send a chopper right into the city; you just can’t. Not when even the police and military are wanting to cash in on the bounty. A chopper is big and noisy and that’s way too much attention right off the hop. But if you take one into one of the towns north of the city, you can drive back in. IF there’s no roadblocks that way.”

“That’s a big if,” Tyler says.

“I can send some people to check it out,” Yaz offers. “There’s a lot of remote areas north of Dhaka. Could them in, get them to see what’s going and probably have an answer in five or six hours. Gotta mobilize them first. Have they sent anything? For proof of life? Any pictures, videos…?”

“The last proof Anil received was three days ago,” Esme sighs. “Nothing since.”

“So they could be dead,” Koen concludes.

“There’s no way they’re dead,” Tyler says. “They need them alive. They know if I don’t come there, they’re going to have to settle for the cash. Which means they have thirty million reasons to keep them alive.”

Or they could kill them and just let on that they’re alive,” Koen argues. “Bait you there with the impression that they ARE still breathing.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Yaz speaks up. “This is a huge pay day for these guys. If Tyler bails, the money is all they have. They’ll take it.”

“Then why not just bail?” Rata asks. “Why not just say ‘fuck it’ and get out of here? Just let Anil give them the money. Hand over the cash and Neysa and Aarev go free, that’s it.”

“It isn’t just about Neysa and Aarev,” Esme reminds him. “It started with the threats against them and it escalated into a whole lot more. WAY more than any of us thought it would. Did any of us image it would get this far? Did any of us really think it would get this bad? It never should have led to this.”

“This is about my family too,” Tyler adds. “Look at all the shit that’s been said. About my wife, about my kids. You think I’m really going to sit back and let them get away with it? If it was you girl, would you just tuck your tail between your legs and run?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d fight too. But haven’t we fought enough? We took care of all those people on that list. Just like we were supposed to. It’s not our fault that Mahajan changed the game when he grabbed the woman and the kid. We did what we set out to do. So why don’t we just say fuck it and go home?”

“Why don’t YOU just say fuck and go home?” Tyler retorts. “If you can’t handle it, just say so. If you’re scared to do this…”

“I’m not scared of shit!” Rata interjects. “I just don't understand why we keep busting our asses like this. Haven’t we done enough? We got all the names checked off the list, Anil is going to take care of Mahajan. We’re done.”

“We are NOT done.” Esme argues. “They have Neysa and Aarev. And Nathan. Did you forget about him? I know he’s no one’s favorite, but they have him too. We can’t just leave them there.”

“And we can’t leave Asif’s people alive,” Koen adds “They’re too much of a threat; especially to Esme and the kids. We leave them alive and they’ll always pose a threat. We have to get rid of them so Tyler and his family can leave in peace.”

“If you want to go, go,” Tyler says. “You want to walk away, no one will fault you for it. This has been sheer fucking hell from day one. If you’re tired and you’ve had enough then just walk away. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I sure as hell will,” Koen snarls.

“I ain’t leaving you two useless assholes here!” Rata protests. “Someone has to make sure things get done right. Might as well be me.”

Koen gives a derisive snort and shakes his head.

“Well it’s true,” Rata mutters, and leans back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m the one who’s been doing it all right since the beginning.”

“I’ll get trackers on the cars right away and send people north,” Yaz announces, and snaps the lid on his laptop closed. “We’re in the end game now. Everyone needs to keep on their toes and be ready to go at any given moment.”

“What happens when we get where we’re going?” Koen asks. “When the shooting starts? That’s going to bring a whole lot of attention our way. We’re going to have every fucking drongo in Dhaka showing up. Regular people, cops, military. How do we deal with all of that?”

“That’s why we have guns,” Tyler informs him. “They shoot at you, you shoot back. And shoot to kill. Injuring them will do shit. You gotta put them down and put them for good.”

“What if someone creates a few distractions on the bridges?” Esme addresses Yaz “I’m sure Anil has some extra people he can lend or even people here in Dhaka that he can convince to go against Asif. If we have people causing a disturbance on the bridges, all the attention will be down by the water.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Koen teases, and shoots her a playful wink.

“I like that idea,” Rata enthuses, “Stir up some chaos. Shoot some people, blow some shit up.”

“Well I was thinking relatively non violent,” Esme says. “But yeah, that works too.”

“Just remember to not shoot unless you’re being shot at,” Yaz instructs. There’s a lot of Dhaka. Good, innocent people. We don’t want their deaths on our hands. Know your target before engaging. And believe me, you’ll know your targets.”

“They don’t waste time shooting,” Esme adds. “Thankfully, most of them can’t shoot for shit. So your chances are pretty good that you won’t get hit.”

“Until they shoot you from behind,” Tyler smirks. “Then all of a sudden they’re really good shots.” He immediately regrets saying it; noticing the way Esme’s entire body stiffens and hears the heavy sigh that escapes her lips.

“Ask me, that was just luck,” Yaz remarks. “Extremely bad on your part, extremely good on his.”

“Can we NOT talk about?” Esme irritably requests. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“Gonna need eyes in the back of our heads,” Rata grumbles. “If these fuckers are known for cutting you down from behind. I don’t want to be catching one in the throat. I wouldn’t be so lucky, that’s for sure.”

“No sense rehashing all of that,” Yaz attempts to derail the conversation. “It was a long time ago. Let’s concentrate on now and…”

“I’m just saying,” Rata continues. “If we got kids out there putting bullets in our backs or our necks…”

“Enough,” Tyler orders. “We all know what happened. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“You got lucky,” his friend informs him. “Someone was there to save your ass. All you bastards would high tail it out of there and let me fend for myself.”

“This conversation is not for me,” Esme declares, and shrugs Tyler’s hand off her shoulder when he tries to prevent her from standing up. “I’m not talking about this. I don’t even want to hear about it. Bad enough I had to go through it. Last thing I want to do is relive it.”

The next thirty second feels as if it lasts thirty minutes. Tension filled silence and a painful awkwardness; all four men attempting to avoid eye contact with one another and trying not to acknowledge the obvious tears sparkling in Esme’s eyes and the way she drops her empty mug into the sink with a loud clatter. Or the way she hurries from the room; light footsteps impossibly loud on the stairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Koen angrily elbows Rata in the ribs. “You know we don’t talk about that. We never talk about that.”

“It’s been seven years! I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“It’s a big fucking deal! To her, anyway. You better start kissing some serious ass, you fucking drongo!”

As his friends continue to bicker, Tyler leans forward and places his forearms on his thighs. Eyes on his feet as the fingers of his right hand fidget with his wedding band; twirling it back and forth, pulling it up to the knuckle and sliding it back down again A nervous habit that creeps up when his anxiety rears its ugly head or the PTSD is gearing up to unleash hell.

Yaz slips into the empty seat beside him, then leans in close. “Still a sore spot for her, huh?”

Tyler nods in confirmation.

“It won’t be much longer until go time. Think she’s going to be able to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly don’t know.”

******

He manages an hour and a half of sleep. Waking to the sounds of Esme muttering and whimpering beside him. Her body drawn impossibly tight and her hands tightly gripping the bottom sheet; heels digging into the mattress as if trying to push herself away from an attacker. He opted not to shake her awake, wanting to avoid sending her into a panic and turning her extremely combative. He’d learned the hard way how NOT to handle a night terror. Confronted by a five foot nothing woman with the sudden strength of three grown men and having to physically restrain her until the nightmare released her from its clutches and she came out of it on her own.

Instead he took the easier approach. Rolling over onto his side and laying an arm across her midsection and draping one leg over both of hers and effectively keeping her flailing limbs and trembling body still. A forearm resting lightly on the top of her head and his fingers reaching for her face; gently clearing tears off of her cheeks and lightly tracing random patterns on her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Within minutes she’d been successfully comforted. Body finally stilling, tears ceasing, eyes never opening as she issued a heavy sigh and moved onto her side.

After that, all hope of getting back to sleep had abandoned him, and for the last hour he’s been lying there in silence. Holding her as tightly as her body will allow him to; face buried in her hair as he listens to her soft, rhythmic breathing. And when her body grows uncomfortable with the heat radiating from his own and the weight of his limbs becomes too much, she moves away and he gives up on rest entirely. Sliding out of bed and then bunching up both of his pillows and placing them -one on top of the other, lengthwise- behind her back. If she rolls over in her sleep and blindly reaches for him, she’ll at least discover the pillows; his scent hopefully enough to comfort her.

He’d fallen asleep fully clothed. Wanting to be ready at the drop of a hat; whether it be a phone call from Yaz or a threat on their doorstep. And he picks up the holster -gun securely stored inside- from it resting on the nightstand; clipping it to the waist of his jeans and then shoving his feet into his combat boots, lacing them tightly before leaving the room.

He grabs some fresh air; giving the guards a nod in greeting as he steps out onto the back porch. While the storm had settled hours ago, it had brought no relief. Heat near stifling, the humidity already oppressive; causing sweat to quickly bead across his forehead and to gather at his temples and the nape of his neck. The air is thick and heavy, yet he barely notices it as he sits on the edge of the deck. Jaw firmly set, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together; eyes dark and staring out into the stillness of the night. He neither sees or acknowledges anything around him. Not the movement of the guards patrolling the darkened perimeter or their quiet conversation. Not the faint music coming from the neighbouring home or the chirping of the crickets.

His mind is switching over now, and soon his senses and instincts will kick into high gear; his brain thinking of nothing but the task directly in front of him. The adrenaline is starting to build; that rush of blood in your veins and the anticipation that causes your heart to speed up and your stomach to flutter. For now he’s still experiencing other emotions as well; worry, nervousness, fear. Haunted by the thought that he could be called upon at any given moment and he many never return to his old life. To that sprawling, beautiful home on the beach with its million dollar view. To the sound of his children laughing and playing. To kissing his wife good morning when she wanders into the kitchen clad in one of his t-shirts. To kissing her goodnight and having that warm, supple body snuggled into his; her breath tickling his skin and that familiar smell clinging to her hair.

It’s shortly before one in the morning when he heads back inside. The house shrouded in silence; the open concept living, dining, and kitchen area illuminated only by the light above the stove. Instead of returning upstairs, he sinks into the easy chair in the living room; relieved that he’s able to stretch out his legs without wincing or groaning from discomfort. The two pills he’d taken almost three hours ago effectively reducing both his pain and stiffness yet not leaving him groggy or with altered senses. It’s a temporary fix; he knows long term usage is out of the questions. His body will get accustomed to both the drug and the dosage and soon the need for more will start. The cravings will kick in soon afterwards, and he’ll find himself desperate for a fix and willing to do anything to get it. Seeking out a doctor is the safest and only hope he has; whether it be through extensive physio or surgery. And he’s more than willing to put in the time and the effort. After all, it’s the only way he’ll be able to keep his life from falling apart.

“Tyler?”

His eyes snap open at the sound of her voice, and he glances towards where she’s paused at the middle landing of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Just checking to see if it was you. I didn't want to come down there and sit on someone and find out the hard way it’s Koen.”

“Might give the guy a heart attack. Probably the most attention he’s had from a woman in a long time.”

“Everything okay?” she asks, as she descends the remaining stairs and joins him; settling herself sideways on his lap with her legs dangling over the arm of the chair.

“Everything’s good.”

“You feeling alright?” She pushes a hand through his hair, palm settling at the back of his head, nails lightly massaging his scalp.

“I’m feeling pretty good, actually. Those meds are doing their job. For now anyway.” He turns his face into hers and places a kiss to each corner of her mouth before covering it with his own. One hand sliding up and down her back as the other settles on her hip. “You okay? You were having a pretty bad dream, huh?”

She nods in confirmation.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” she says, and rests the side of her head on his shoulder.

“So it was about me?”

Another nod.

“That bad?”

“Bad enough. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” he assures her, and rests the tip of his nose against his forehead, feeling the tickle of her lashes when she closes her eyes.

“Nice attempt with the pillows though,” she says.

“It usually works.”

“I woke up completely this time. And then I panicked; I was worried you’d gotten the call and left without saying bye.”

“I’d never leave without telling you. We have our thing, yeah? Shit we always say to each other before I go? It’s like my good luck charm; say those words and everything will go right.”

“It’s held up so far. You started saying it when you went back to the job the first time and you’ve been saying it ever since.”

“Pretty good track record. I wouldn’t risk screwing things up by leaving without waking you up and telling you. You sure you’re alright? Dream still got you rattled?”

“A little,” she admits. “It was scary. And gruesome. I haven’t had one that bad in a long time.”

“Thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t.” She nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose, then presses a kiss to it. “It was bad…” her voice cracks. “...it was really bad.”

“It’s okay…” the hand on her back moves up to her hair, slightly stroking it as his other hand rubs her hips. “...everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

“For now.”

“We knew this was coming.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier. I know you have to go, but it doesn’t mean I want you to.”

“Would it make you feel better if I wore my lucky underwear?”

“You didn’t bring them. I packed your bag, remember?”

“And you didn’t put them in? What’s wrong with you?”

“The only thing those underwear are lucky for is making babies. Declan, Addie. I bet you were wearing them when this one was made too.”

A hand moves to the small baby bump already straining against her pyjamas pants. “I wasn’t wearing any.”

“You don’t even know what day this one was made on. How do you know if you were wearing underwear or not? You can’t remember what you had for breakfast most days.”

“I figure if I don’t wear them six days a week, the chances are pretty high that I wasn’t wearing any that day.”

“Maybe THAT’S why your sperm is so good. You’re not suffocating them all the time. They're free range. They’re not penned in and they can come and go as they please. Like how the chickens in Colorado used to poop out butt nuggets everywhere.”

Tyler chuckles. “Butt nuggets.”

“I used to call eggs that all the time when I was a kid,” Esme muses. “My dad taught me. We’d have a big family breakfast every Sunday; like we do now. And he’d always ask me how I wanted my butt nuggets cooked. My mom would get so mad! She hated that we were so close. I think in a way she was jealous. I was her first girl and I wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t figure out that she was the reason I didn’t want to be around her. And here we are, thirty some years later and she still has no clue. Makes me sad for our kids; they don’t even have one grandmother. Your mom would have been so good with them. I just know it. Her only kid...her son...having kids of his own?”

“She would have spoiled the hell out of them. She would have loved them; there’s no doubt about that.”

“She’d be so proud of you. For how you turned out.”

“Something tells me she wouldn’t he completely on board with the whole hired gun thing.”

“I’m not talking about that. I mean how you turned out as a man. If she was alive right now, she’d know all the struggles you went through and saw all the battles you fought and how you beat every single one. And she’d see how you turned out as a husband and a father despite not having the best role model to emulate.”

“Growing up I told myself that I’d never be like him. That I’d never turn out like that.”

“And you didn’t. You work hard at it every single day; to not be like him. It would have been so easy for you; to end up the same way. But you went in the opposite direction.”

“You keep forgetting that the first time didn’t turn out so good.”

“You were a kid when you got married the first time,” Esme reasons. “And judging by the stories I’ve heard she wasn’t exactly wife material.”

“She had her flaws , that’s for sure. One of them just happened to fucking anyone that showed interest.”

“Well if you ask me, she must have been crazy. Cheating on the likes of you? Why give up filet mignon for ground beef?”

“So I really AM just a piece of meat to you,” he teases, and she giggles when he kisses the side of her neck and playfully pinches her side.

“I’m just saying that I don’t get it. Why do you cheat when you have an amazingly hot husband that’s a god in bed? There has to be something seriously wrong with someone. And don’t get me started on how you were deployed when she would do it. Your husband is off...in the Middle East...getting shot at it and trying not to get blown up by roadside bombs...and you’re back home serving as the base slut? That’s the lowest of the low!”

“I guess both of us weren’t very good judges of character when we were younger.”

“There is a bright side though. To what we both went through the first time around.”

“What’s the bright side?”

“Well if things had been wonderful in either of our first marriages, neither of us would have ended up doing the job. You probably would have stayed in the military and I probably would have been a happy little housewife. In the PTA and driving a minivan and taking the kids to soccer and drinking Starbucks.”

“You take the kids to soccer now. Except it’s a thermos with homemade coffee with Bailey’s in it. “

“That’s in the cooler weather. When it’s hot, it’s pink lemonade with vodka.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, it’s not the most exciting sport in the world; I have to get through it somehow. And I also have to survive all the thirsty females that show up whenever you coach. I don’t know how they know when it’s your turn, but that many never show when you’re not there. And they show up in their slutty little outfits and their make up done. And there I am; no makeup, ball cap on yoga pants and UGG boots and one of your hoodies. And you wonder why I have self confidence issues.”

“Who cares about the thirsty women? I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

“I care when they’re openly discussing my husband’s ass and his muscles and his bulge.”

“You should have married an uglier guy with a small dick then,” Tyler teases.

“I did that with my first marriage. I traded up the second time around.”

“Just ignore them. I do. I don’t pay attention to them. I don’t need to. I’m already married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Wow…” she’s grinning as she pulls back to look at him. “...do you ever know how to lay it on thick.”

“It’s the truth. That’s how I see you. I’ve always seen you that way. It’s how I’ll always see you. So fuck ‘em. Who’s the one I go home with? Who’s the one I share a bed with every night?”

“Me. Lucky little old me.”

“Exactly. It’s always been you. It always will be. I choose you every day.”

“Even when my hair hasn’t been washed in four days and I’ve got baby puke on my clothes and dark circles under my eyes and I’m a raging bitch?”

“Even then.”

“Now THAT is true love,” she says, and places both hands on the side of his as she kisses him. Nothing hurried or overly needy; soft and languid, lips moving slowly against one another. And when she pulls away he sees the tears that sparkle in her eyes and the way the corners of her mouth droop.

“Baby…” he combs his fingers through her hair, then kisses the bridge of her nose and cradles her cheek in the palm of his hand. “...don’t…”

“I don’t want you to go. I know you have to; it’s the only way this will ever be finished. But I still don’t want you to leave. I wish there was another way; to end all of this.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“I’m scared. This is the most scared I’ve ever been. I wasn’t even this scared seven years ago.”

“We barely knew each other then,” he reasons. “But now…”

“There’s so much to lose. Way too much. If something happens to you…”

“Stop…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and draws it down to his, pressing their brows together. “...just stop.”

“You have to come back for me. You HAVE to. Promise me you’ll come back for me.”

“Esme…”

“Promise me, Tyler,” she pleads, fingers tightly gripping his hair. “Promise me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“At least promise you’ll try? That you’ll do whatever it takes to get back here. Can you promise me that at least?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows, and places a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth character #best part of me

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gumnut-logic · 5 years ago

Text

When the World Goes Boom (Part 5)

Okay, this chapter was a challenge and involved lots of whiny Nutty throwing hissy fits. It is also over twice the size of any of the previous parts.

Spoilers & Warnings: Spoilers for season three, angst, 3931 words

Many thanks to @scribbles97 and @i-am-chidorixblossom for putting up with my crazy and reading this at random moments.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

Alan was exhausted after his dressings change, but to be honest, he was ever so happy to see Gordon regardless.

Virgil ruffled his hair and said something about grabbing coffee and going back to see Scott, and left him with his aquanaut brother.

It wasn’t exactly relief he felt at the change of brothers. He loved Virgil, but things were different with Gordon. He had to act less grown up and could be more the kid he sometimes felt like. Gordon never really grew up, so Alan felt less pressure to be the adult.

And besides Gordon was his big brother.

As Virgil had pushed his hoverbed out of the consultation room, they had picked up their security. Jeremy was hanging with Virgil today.

Alan had Brie.

He liked the tiny security specialist. She had a nice smile and was barely tall enough to look him in the eye. Something that was refreshing for a youngest who had to look up at almost every other member of his family.

Except for Gordon, but he was special. Not that he would ever mention that.

On the other hand, Brie may be small, but he had the strongest impression she was quite capable of removing his head from his body with her bare hands. Occasionally Kayo would run the personal team through sparring matches, always an interesting spectator sport for the brothers, each cheering their favourite. Brie had managed to outsmart even the older expert, Jeremy. And she looked good doing it.

Not that Alan would ever admit that little opinion.

Her soft smile at him was cute, though.

Gordon, of course, had Iz with him.

Iz was scary. She hid in the shadows more often than not. Her nose ring, short purple hair and stoic appearance was intimidating. Yes, he had thought the word. Intimidating.

Gordon thought she was groovy.

Alan thought Gordon spent too much time with his retro junk and needed a vocabulary transplant.

But, in any case, both women were highly competent and came with a Kayo stamp of approval.

“Hey, Gords, can we go out into the garden?” He really didn’t want to go back into that room. Seeing Scott upset just hurt. He tried to not show how much it freaked him out, but right now? He was too tired to face it.

“Sure, Allie.” Auckland City Hospital sat next to some extensive gardens and while it wasn’t necessarily encouraged, patients and rebellious Tracys often went out there to escape the sterile corridors and reconnect to the world around them. One advantage of living on an island in the middle of the Pacific was the constant contact with the ocean and its ecosystem. For Gordon it was simply sighting the ocean in the distance that helped. For Alan it was less clear but all the Tracys, if hospitalised ended up out here at some point.

Scott had once had to chase a half delirious Virgil out onto the grass.

It gave security grey hair, but that’s why they were so well paid.

The corridors were stark as with any hospital. Alan let his eyes skip from sign to sign as the fluorescent lights flickered overhead. Windows into other worlds slid past.

At one point his eyes landed on a set of open doors with a radiation symbol blaringly decorating the wall beside it.

Radiology.

Alan blinked.

Had he been here? Something felt wrong. “Gords, can we stop a moment?”

“What? Sure?” His brother looked at the doors. “Why? Feel like getting your innards scanned?”

Alan frowned and ignored him. There was something about that radiation sign. “Have I been here?”

Gordon frowned a little. “Not this time. The medscanners told us enough. Scott has though. For his concussion.” A pause as Alan continued to stare at the gaping doors. “You came here for your broken arm when you were twelve. Remember that?”

Vague. “Yeah.” Maybe that was it. It had been a nasty break and hurt like hell. Not a happy memory. “That must be it.” A man exited the department and the doors closed. More warning signs appeared.

Alan frowned more.

“You okay?”

“Hmm.” Alan shook himself. He needed to get out of this building. It was driving him bonkers. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

“Sure.” But there was a subtle worry in his brother’s voice.

Gordon pushed him out into the sun and Alan closed his eyes against its brightness, but revelled in its warmth.

Of course, it wasn’t as warm as home, but the rustling of a nearby palm tree was reassuringly familiar.

“I’m going to find some shade to park you under. No need to risk that fragile skin of yours with a sunburn.”

Alan scrunched up his face. “I’m not fragile.”

Gordon snorted, but continued to push him easily down the laneway towards the gardens. Security bracketed them. Iz, spoke into her comm quietly. Waitemata Harbour came into view in the distance with Rangitoto looming over everything.

The breeze tickled Alan’s hair.

His brother found them a tree with a view and parked them, brakes secured. “How’s that?”

“Great. Thanks, Gordy.”

Gordon dumped himself on the end of Alan’s bed and a silence fell as Alan let the outside world wash away the antiseptic smells clinging to him.

“How are you feeling?” Gordon’s question was quiet.

“I’m okay. Got me on the good stuff.” He opened his eyes to find his brother’s concerned gaze corrupted by just a hint of a smile. “Don’t worry. One advantage of that procedure is they dose me up and as long as you don’t prod me, I can’t feel a thing.” He threw his own smile into the pot, desperate to remove that worry off his big bro’s face.

Of course, that prompted Gordon to poke his foot with one finger. Repeatedly.

Alan rolled his eyes. “How is everyone?” He hadn’t meant to ask, but it came out without thought. Probably because it was foremost in thought.

Gordon shrugged. “Okay. Virgil has gone all motherhen. John has disappeared into the office. I have no idea what he is doing in there. The media is starting to calm down, so I guess that is part of it, but Eos is snarly and defensive.”

“Eos always snarls at you. And you know why.”

“Not my fault she can’t take a joke.”

Alan smirked. Gordon was going have to rethink pranking John in the future. His watchdog didn’t take nicely to any threat to her father, marshmallow or not.

“How about Dad?”

“Well, you’ve seen him. Shell shocked are the words I’d use. You talk to him at all?”

Alan shook his head just a little. To be honest, he didn’t know what to say. His dad looked lost, almost fearful. While he loved him dearly, really…he still didn’t know his Dad as well as he wanted too. While the man offered comfort, it was awkward and hesitant and Alan was hesitant in return.

The familiarity of his brothers was just a relief.

There was so much guilt in there.

“This sucks.” Alan’s voice was desolate.

“Totally.”

“I just wish Scotty would get better. I hate seeing him like that.” It was horrifying. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry before.” His voice had gotten small.

“I have.”

Alan looked up at his brother. “What? When?”

“After the Zero X. Virgil found him in Dad’s office. I don’t think they knew I was there and I wasn’t there for long.” Gordon’s eyes dropped to the grass. “But this is different. He will get better, Allie.”

“God, I hope so.”

His train of thought was interrupted as Brie approached from the right. “Mr Gordon, Mr Alan, Kayo has requested you return to the room. There has been an incident.”

Alan immediately sat up straighter. “What happened? Is everyone okay?” Gordon slipped off the end of the bed and moved to the head, already disengaging the brakes.

“A threat has been made against the Tracy family and we have been requested to move you to a more secure location.”

A threat? Alan reached for his comms and realised that he wasn’t wearing any having been reduced to a hospital gown for his procedure. “I need my comms.”

Gordon’s eyes darted to him. “You do. Brie, make sure Alan gets his comms. If there is a security issue, he needs to be connected to the network.”

“Yes, Mr Gordon.”

“Kill the ‘Mister’, Brie. You know me better than that.”

“I most certainly do, Mr Gordon.”

“What?”

Iz swept in, expression stony and professional, and they were moving back towards the hospital.

As they passed radiology, Alan once again stared at the signs on the doors. The doors were closed, but something still stirred in his gut.

Something he couldn’t quite grasp.

-o-o-o-

Her eldest grandson clung to her as if he was a six-year-old again.

She couldn’t help but cling to him in return. It was disturbing to see the usually strong and emotionally private man so vulnerable.

“C’mon, Scotty, talk to me.”

Another rough indrawn breath and he slowly pulled away. Exhausted, red-rimmed blue eyes stared up at her, almost pleading. “Tell me, Alan’s okay.”

“Alan is okay, honey. He has a couple of nasty burns, but he will heal.”

“That’s what Dad said.”

“Of course, that’s what your father said, because it’s the truth.”

Something flickered in those eyes. Voice faint and dry. “I don’t know what is the truth anymore.” Scott fell back against his pillows with a hopeless sigh.

Sally reached out and stroked his hair. “Be kind to yourself, honey. You were injured, give your body a chance to heal.

“He called me for help, Grandma.”

She frowned. “Who?”

“Alan.”

“When?”

“Before the explosion. I remember his voice. He needed me and I wasn’t there.”

This was new. She sat down on the edge of the bed, but didn’t stop her ministrations. “Are you sure?

The anguish returned. “I don’t know, Grandma. I just keep hearing him.” Both hands came up and covered his face.

“Shh, shh, shh, honey. It’s okay.” His hair needed a wash, the strands stiff from old product and sweat. She didn’t stop stroking.

“Alan was hurt.”

“Yes, he was. But he is going to be fine.”

“H-He called me for help, but I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t help him, Grandma.” Wet, blue eyes widened. “Why couldn’t I help him?”

“You had three people under your care, Scott.”

“But Alan-“

“Alan is going to be okay.”

It wasn’t enough. Her grandson’s brow crinkled in anguish. “He’s my littlest brother, Grandma. Why couldn’t I help him?”

Whatever answer she was going to give him was interrupted by an urgent knock on the door. Before either of them could acknowledge it, Kayo stuck her head in. “Sorry to interrupt.” Her eyes widened at the sight of her big brother. “We have a problem.”

-o-o-o-

It took Virgil far too many seconds to put the likely scenario together in his head. A sign of how tired he actually was.

Lemaire continued to babble until the reporter gave up and cut him off. The ‘projector switched to an advertisement and the café settled down with only one or two people eyeing Virgil and his father with curious frowns.

“Who was that?”

Virgil’s tone was derogatory enough to smear the man’s name into the carpet with his boot. “Repeat customer. Unfortunately, his wealth is inversely proportional to his intelligence.” His father frowned, no doubt at Virgil’s disrespect. “He’s very rich, Dad.”

“But why is he threatening us?”

“That I need to find out.” Though he had his suspicions. This was not the place to discuss them. “We need to head back to the room.”

His father stood up. “Agreed.”

There were still eyes on them. Jez and Gerry’s gazes were like laser beams sweeping the room. Virgil sighed and stood.

They made their way quickly back to the room. Encountering Alan and Gordon in the hallway, Virgil assisted Gordon in manoeuvring Alan’s bed back through the door. To Virgil’s relief, Scott was actually sitting up in bed. He appeared drawn and tired, but he was awake.

Scott’s eyes tracked Alan from the moment he entered the room.

Alan just grinned and waved like he was on a float in a Christmas parade.

Kayo was fidgety. Not that the average person would notice, but Virgil was family and the stoic security officer was literally vibrating on the spot under her calm façade.

They got Alan settled and the entire family arrayed around the room, except for one obvious omission.

Virgil yanked out his phone and sent a priority call to his missing brother. “John, what did you do?”

John’s hologram was dressed in that godawful shirt Virgil wanted to burn. The only reason he hadn’t was because it was tailored to provide gravity support to the astronaut when he was on Earth, the piping providing both sensory output and pressure adjustments as needed.

But it was the last time Virgil was ever going to let his brother choose a colour, ugh.

“Tracy Industries bought Oxy-Baker.”

His father, who had been standing behind Virgil, stepped forward. “Why would you do that?”

Holographic turquoise eyes flashed. “We have history, Dad. The safety systems built into Oxy-Baker reclamation systems are atrocious. This was the fourth time we almost lost an operative to this business. We need to put an end to it.”

The tension emanating off his father was extreme. “Why now?”

John’s eyes flickered to Scott and back. “Why not? When Scott is incapacitated, his Tracy Industries responsibilities fall to me. I saw an opportunity, I took it.”

His father’s eyes shot to Virgil, and yes, Virgil felt guilt regarding that, but Tracy Industries was safer in John’s hands than his, and besides, when Scott was incapacitated, Virgil usually had his hands full with his brothers and International Rescue.

“You’ve created an incident that could have been avoided.”

“There is no incident, Dad. The job is done. We now own Oxy-Baker and can work to fix its many problems.” John obviously considered the problem solved.

His father most certainly did not. “I’m coming home and we will discuss this.”

John froze. “Dad?”

But their father’s expression was firm. “I will speak to you when I get home.”

“Yes, father.”

The respect in John’s tone was there, but it wasn’t. Before their Dad could respond, he blinked out.

Grey eyes frowned.

Oh shit.

The room was silent for a moment, each of the boys staring up at their father, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Dad, John knows what he is doing.”

Those grey eyes flickered to Virgil. “I’m sure he does.” But the sincerity wasn’t there.

Shit.

It had been a long time since he had seen his father angry, but apparently that time was up. “Dad, read the mission reports. There is ample reason for John’s response.”

“Perhaps, but not without discussing it first.”

“I trust him.” The words were parched and tired, but they came from Scott. For the first time those blue eyes, despite being bloodshot and weary, were clear. “I trust John to do what needs to be done.”

Their father continued to frown, but a flash of vulnerability and uncertainty crossed his expression before it once again firmed. “I will discuss it with John.”

“Jeff?” Virgil jumped. He had forgotten his grandmother was in the room. “You need sleep. We are going home.” She stood up off Scott’s bed and brushed her fingers against his cheek. “You feel better, Scotty, you hear me?”

His hand gently took hers and squeezed. “Yes, Grandma.”

She leant over and kissed his forehead, before moving around the end of his bed and doing the same to Alan. A squeeze of Gordon’s hand and a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and she was opening the door. “Jeff?”

Virgil looked up at his father and discovered exhaustion itself. Quietly. “You need sleep, Dad.”

“I’m fine, Virgil.” The snarl in those words had Virgil stepping back.

“Jeff.” Grandma’s tone was firm as was her frown.

Their father nodded once, his eyes darting to each of his boys before he turned and left.

The door closed quietly behind him.

“Shit.” It was an exhaled breath from Gordon as he stared at the door. “Dad’s pissed.”

“Dad is exhausted.” Virgil’s tone was just as firm as Grandma’s.

“You better warn John.” Scott’s voice was still dry and Virgil took those few extra steps closer to his bedside, taking the space left by his grandmother.

A quick comm to John and his exasperated response bounced about the room. “Lemaire was asking for it.”

Virgil’s tone was reassuring. “I’m not the one you’ll have to convince. It was Dad’s business. We should have thought of how he would react.”

John’s sigh was just as tired as any of the Tracys. “Eos has killed the newsfeed. Damage control is in place. Lemaire is still an idiot. He just made it easier with all his chest puffing and grandstanding.” A pause. “Scott?”

Virgil tilted the holoreceiver in his big brother’s direction. “Yes, John?”

John visibly relaxed at the sight of the prone pilot. “Good to see you.”

Scott managed a small smile. “Same. You keeping the execs on their toes?”

A smirk. “Always. You know they love me.”

That smile widened. “Like a case of shingles.” A sigh. “Dad will understand.”

“I hope so.”

“Batten down the hatches.”

“FAB.”

John blinked out and once again the room fell silent. Scott lost the smile and once again fell to tired and wan. “Scott, how about we go out for a little sunshine.”

Kayo immediately started. “Virgil, security-“

He held up a hand. “Task us with as many officers as you like. Scott has been in here for days.”

“Virgil-“

“Okay.” Scott’s voice cut off the both of them and sudden touch of elation in those bloodshot eyes was enough to cancel out the minor risk involved.

Virgil turned to Kayo. “We won’t go far.”

She glared. “No, you won’t because, I’m going with you.”

He shrugged. “Fine. We’ll enjoy your company.” And before any further protest could arise, He undocked Scott’s hoverbed and pushed it towards the exit. A glance in Kayo’s direction, which prompted another glare from his sister, and she opened the door, while simultaneously speaking over her comms.

He arched an eyebrow as both Jez and Iz appeared in the hallway as Virgil and Scott emerged from the room.

“You’re going to pay for this one, Virg.” There was a touch of amusement in Scott’s tired voice.

Virgil grinned. “It’s worth it.”

-o-o-o-

Alan stared as the door shut behind his brothers and sister, leaving the room suddenly empty except for Gordon and himself.

“Well, that was entertaining.” Gordon resumed his perch on the end of Alan’s bed.

Alan didn’t answer him.

“You okay?”

“Hmm?”

“Dad and John will work it out, don’t worry.”

Alan ignored him and hit his comms. “Eos, you there?”

“Yes, Alan, how are you feeling?”

“Getting better. Hey, could you please send the mission report and recordings to my tablet?”

“Are you sure? Mrs Tracy would be upset if you are tiring yourself out.” There was proof of intelligence for you, respect for Grandma. Or it could just be a survival instinct.

Now Gordon was frowning at him.

“I’m good, Eos, I just need to check by memories against what actually happened. Call it a data check.”

“Oh, okay, sending now.”

His tablet on the bedtable pinged and he grabbed it.

“Allie, whatcha doing?”

“I remember something.”

Gordon’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m not sure. It’s vague and it’s bugging me.” He pulled up the reports. John’s neat English bouncing off the screen, explaining the lead up to the explosion and the resultant rescue of his brothers. He pulled up the comm records and listened to the bounce back between himself and Scott just before the explosion. It was extremely odd to hear himself saying words he didn’t remember. Alan helped his brother secure the three rescuees and then returned to the habitat for one last reconnaissance in order to declare the site clear.

His last transmission was “Scott! I need-“ The signal cut as Thunderbird Five’s sensors registered the explosion.

Alan frowned, something stirring in his gut. It felt wrong. Something was wrong. Without saying a thing, he pulled the full sensor logs from Five. He tracked his position and Scott’s position. The rescuees trailed out behind his brother. They were the only lifesigns on sensors.

He watched himself stop not far from the fuel tanks, the distance that had nearly taken his life. Why did he stop? The signal went out to Scott. “Scott! I need-“ And the eruption of heat was blinding.

“What did I need?”

He jumped as he realised Gordon was standing right next to him, staring over his shoulder. “Alan? Talk to me.”

“I...I remember a radiation symbol. You know, the same one on the radiology doors. The fuel tanks were carbon-based fuels, not radioactive. But I remember that symbol.” His finger poked the tablet and the recording replayed. “What did I need?”

“Take a deep breath, Allie.”

Alan frowned at his brother. “I’m fine. It means something, I just don’t know what.”

Gordon reached over and poked the tablet a couple of times. “Check out what the station was stocking. Those reclamation plants pull all sorts of things out of old junk.”

“I already checked. They had space for radioactive materials. Most of the older satellites were nuclear powered. But their storage bins were recorded as empty. John checked that before we even arrived on site in case we needed to take precautions.”

Gordon sat on the bed beside him, his frown getting deeper by the moment. A tap of his comms. “Eos?”

“Yes, Gort?”

Gordon groaned.

Alan snorted. The names changed each time and each time was always amusing. Gordon was going to regret that joke for a lifetime.

“I’m not in the mood, Eos. This is serious.”

“Yes, Thunderbird Fork.”

“Gah. Eos, I said I’m sorry.”

“You said this was important, Gork.”

“Can you please give us a rundown on the supply and delivery runs to and from Oxy-Baker Reclamation Station 094 leading up to the incident.”

“Most certainly, Pork.”

Alan couldn’t help the grin as the data rolled onto his tablet. Three pages in it became obvious that there was a data error.

“These numbers don’t match.” Alan was glaring at the tables. “The carbon-based fuel capacity is to be expected, but they haven’t had a pickup for either their radioactive materials or precious metals in two weeks and yet both storage crates register nothing.”

“Maybe they had a dip in processing. Eos? Can we access their reclamation intake rate?”

“One moment, Mork.”

Alan grinned again. “Ork, ork, ork!”

He was rewarded by a scuff up the back of his head.

“Hey, injured here.”

Eos ignored their by-play. “According to their records, there was no dip in processing or change in product salvage. In fact, they recently broke down one of the earlier military reconnaissance satellites just this week. Definitely nuclear powered. Those statistics are incorrect.”

Alan stared at the numbers and fought his memory, begging it to give him more. The sick feeling in his gut got worse. “I think something happened, Gordy.”

A hand landed on his good shoulder and squeezed. He looked up at his brother and found concern in those russet brown eyes. “Allie?”

But he knew Gordon knew the answer before he said it.

“I don’t think the explosion was an accident.”

-o-o-o-

End Part Five

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Alan Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Grandma Tracy #sally tracy #John Tracy #Scott Tracy

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