#the doctors today saw my scars but that’s at least on file as happening ‘half a year ago at least’

[mapsareforbraindeads]

i need to get all my shit out of me now so i don’t talk about it on anesthesia tomorrow. seriously. i am so stressed abt this shit

[simplybakugou]

Bound to You

↝ In a society where matching scars signify two souls bound together, you stumble upon your fated soul mate who happened to be one of the biggest pro heroes.

BINGO SPACE: Soul Marks

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!mina x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: the slightest of angst, mostly fluff :) ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2884

A/N: here’s another bingo piece for the bingo event happening with @bnhabookclub​. thank you to @fandomtrashsammy​ for requesting mina for this prompt! this was my first time writing for mina and basically any female character from bnha! I’m really enjoying trying to write for different characters and i think i can say mina is definitely one of my favorite characters to write for omg. credits to @eraserhead-transparents​ for the mina cap!

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 07.22.2020✐

If there was one thing you couldn’t stand, it was relationships. Now it wasn’t like you hated other couples and how happy they seemed, but rather you hated how their happy, loving relationships would be shoved down the throats’ of single people. 

In this world, soul markings were crucial in identifying one’s significant other. They appeared when your fated soulmate would undergo an injury, leaving a permanent scar on their body and their significant other’s body. Although the other person could not feel the same agonizing pain, the matching scars were still evident.

Nonetheless, you absolutely hated the markings. It was almost like you had no control on who you would end up with, who the person you would spend the rest of your life with. You hated having to grow up and hear your classmates squeal excitedly when finding scars from small cuts and scrapes that their soulmates endured on their bodies. You even hated when your own friends would pester you about the scars that littered your own body at a rate that was mildly concerning. Every morning you’d find another scar littered on your skin, the same appalled expression on your face as you tried to envision what your soulmate could be doing to go through such injuries. 

Were they a stunt double? An acrobat? Or maybe they were a criminal on the run as they harmed more and more people as the days went on… or maybe you were thinking about it too much.

However a year had passed and it had been a while since you woke up to various blemishes on your body. Who knew what happened to your soul mate, maybe they were in prison or they were caught up in business that ultimately led to their death… but either way you didn’t care. 

Since then you decided to not seek out your mate like your friends and peers did, dating whoever you desired and not caring enough to check if they were your fated other half. But like everybody else, all of your exes were paranoid when they realized your scars didn’t match. Your ex-boyfriend even broke up with you once realizing you weren’t his soulmate.

But to hell with them. You refused to live by the rules of this weird society you were brought into.

You clocked in at the front desk, briefly greeting the receptionists who gave you a warm smile in return. You proceeded through the hospital, until you reached the break room, grabbing a mask and other equipment needed for your round of checkups.

“Y/N!” You heard a faint voice call from down the hall.

Itsuki, your close friend and coworker, caught up with you, walking by your side with a bright smile. “Guess what? I think I found my soulmate in 143.”

You rolled your eyes. “Itsuki, how many times have you said that this week? This is a hospital, of course you’re going to find people with similar cuts and bruises.”

She pouted, sticking her tongue out at you playfully. “You’re no fun. It’s not fair that you get all the cool, distinct scars while I get like two and they look like everyone else’s!”

You look down at your most recent marking, the last one that had shown on your skin since the appearance of the blemishes ceased a year ago. It was dark in color, indicating how severe and painful it must’ve been. Fortunately you never endured the pain yourself but you could feel yourself wince at the mere thought of undergoing such pain.

“It doesn’t matter if mine are distinct or not. These marks are pointless, they don’t mean anything.”

“I still can’t get why you’re a nonbeliever. Don’t you ever wonder who your match is?” Itsuki let out a small squeal, overjoyed by the thought. “It’s all about the mysteriousness, Y/N.”

“It sounds like crap if you ask me,” you muttered.

Itsuki caught what you mumbled under your breath, elbowing you in your side. “I’m telling you, once you meet your mate you’re going to be so in love with them and I’ll just laugh in your face!”

“Dream on, Itsu. We’ll see about that,” you said, smirking at her as she walked into her next patient’s room.

Meanwhile you made your way to your first patient of the day. In fact, she was the first patient you saw every day at work. The woman was in a coma for nearly a whole year. Your superior had informed you that she was the famous hero, Ashido Mina, but you knew that already. It was impossible for anyone to not know Ashido. 

Back in the day she and the rest of her peers at U.A. were constantly in the limelight from being attacked by the League of Villains and for being one of the top pros. 

At least until her accident.

You weren’t familiar with the specifics of the accident but you knew she had encountered a villain, one that harmed her so harshly that she had been put into a coma. And now it was uncertain when she would wake up.

You were responsible for monitoring and recording her recovery process every morning, making sure she was in stable condition.

You entered Ashido’s room, sliding the door closed behind you. You checked the monitors, jotting down her breathing rate, heart rate and the like just like you did every other day. Only this day it was different. You noticed her stability had wavered slightly, her breathing and heart rate seeming off.

Your boss had told you, as you were a fairly new nurse in this certain hospital with your fairly average healing quirk, that irregularities would occur but it was still concerning to say the least. 

Just as you were finishing up writing down any inconsistencies, you felt a shiver down your spine as you could hear mumbling from behind you. You turned your head slightly, watching as Ashido muttered something, her lips parting slowly as her lashes fluttered partly open.

You immediately paged a doctor to come in, slamming the door back open to grab anyone’s attention. As you made your way back to Ashido’s bedside, her eyes were open a bit more and her lips curled upwards into a small, half-efforted smile. Her eyes slowly glanced down at the markings on your arms. “That’s funny… they look like… mine.”

And like that she slipped back out of consciousness as the doctor rushed in.

***

A few days had passed since Ashido managed to regain consciousness. As rumors traveled fast in a small, local hospital like this one, Ashido was now completely awake and was on her way to recovery. Oftentimes patients who came out of comas would have to go through years of therapy depending on how long they were out for. Luckily with the use of quirks, the various doctors and nurses working were able to utilize their unique quirks for any kind of injury, Ashido’s included. This included your own quirk and although it was a simple healing quirk, it was one that could speed up the recovery of any wound. 

Nevertheless, the staff would have to keep things confidential with Ashido’s recovery process as the media would circle around outside the building with their nosy figures in an attempt of learning at least something about Ashido’s status. The only people permitted to see her were family at the moment.

In this span of time you were preoccupied with other patients, your list of usual people to deal with had been switched out with one of your coworkers. Normally this would not have been a problem but Ashido’s last few words before passing out still echoed throughout your mind. What could she have meant by your scars looking like hers? From what you could remember, her arms were bandaged up and there was no way for you to confirm this yourself. Maybe it was all a coincidence… yeah, it had to be!

But as much as you tried to tell yourself this, you still found yourself peeking into her room every now and then, psyching yourself out whenever you were almost caught by Ashido herself or by another doctor or nurse in her room.

Finally your boss changed your schedule back to how it was previously, and you were nervous as you headed inside, sliding the door closed. Ashido whipped her head up as she was sitting upright on her bed, flipping aimlessly through a magazine that was laid out on her table. “Oh! You’re the pretty nurse from before!”

“Uh, yeah I guess,” you said in a hush tone, thrown off by her sudden compliment. Your eyes gravitated to her arms as you were supposed to change her bandages that particular day. It was the moment of truth.

Ashido looked down at her own limbs, putting two and two together. “So you’re changing these today?” 

You nodded, placing your clipboard with her file attached to it on the table and sitting beside her bed. “That’s right. Before Doctor Tanaka comes in, I have to change them.”

You pulled out a roll of gauze and bandage you were supposed to be using. Ashido extended her arms out, watching you carefully as you slowly removed the first set of bandages on her left arm. You sucked in your breath at the sight of her bare arm. 

Due to the obvious difference in melanin, as Ashido’s skin was literally pink, her scars appeared differently in color compared to your own skin but even then there was no doubt about it; you two had matching soul marks.

You cleared your throat, examining the state of the blemishes as you proceeded to unravel the bandages from her other arm. “It seems that your skin has healed well, most likely from the year that you were in a coma which gave your skin enough time to heal on its own.”

You stood to your feet, tossing the used bandages in the trash and shoving the gauze and new roll of bandages in your pockets. “Let me go get Doctor Tanaka and hear his input on this--”

“Wait!” Ashido exclaimed, grabbing onto your wrist. She winced slightly, not used to applying force to her fingers just yet. “You can’t leave now. All my life I’ve been trying to find my soul mate, dating and meeting different guys and never finding who it was. And now I meet you, a woman, here… you can’t just ignore that we’re mates.”

You turned your head, gently shaking her grip on you. “I’m sorry, m’am, I need to administer my other patients. The doctor will be here soon.”

And like that Ashido could only watch as you quickly exited her room.

***

Even more time passed since your encounter with Ashido. The doctors and other authoritative personnel had Ashido undergo physical therapy before she was finally dismissed from the hospital, her being physically functional to walk around almost as good as she was before the accident. She suffered severe burns and trauma from the accident, ones that had healed over the time in her comatose.

In the past months that had passed, you had initially vowed to forget what you had learned about your relationship with Ashido. You avoided her room at all costs, managing to convince Itsuki to cover for you on the mornings you had to administer Ashido, although Itsuki did attempt to get you to tell her what was going on in which you kept your mouth shut.

With the passing time and hearing that Ashido was dismissed from the hospital, you felt an invisible weight lift right off your shoulders… at least in the beginning.

You found out that Ashido, who ignored the crowd of reporters circling around the building as they wanted to hear about Ashido’s plans for the future for a scoop in their papers, visited the hospital every morning, wanting to catch a glimpse of your figure. After a few days she decided to ask the receptionists directly, somehow convincing them to give them your number for “medicinal purposes.”

You were then flooded with texts from an unknown number, immediately deleting them when realizing who they were actually from. But that didn’t stop Ashido. She would text you from different numbers, berating you with messages and calls, all of which you ignored.

When she realized you were just going to block her number, she visited the hospital for any minor inconvenience, whether it be a strain that she “felt” in her muscles or a mere paper cut. Even then she refused to be seen by any other nurse or doctor except for you.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore and you gave in, asking her to meet you in the breakroom of the floor you were covering. And there you were, waiting patiently inside the room for her, tapping your fingers against your arms as you were beyond frustrated. 

The door finally slid open and Ashido waltzed right in, a smile on her face. She approached you, in which you walked past her and shut the door, closing the blinds on the small window on the door. You then turned back around, facing her with an irritated expression. “Why are you constantly annoying me? What do you want?”

Ashido let out a laugh, taking a step towards you in which you took one step back. You felt you back hit the wall as she stood hovering above you with her figure. “It’s pretty simple actually. I want you.”

You felt yourself become flustered by her words and the proximity of her body with yours. You felt drawn in by her piercing golden eyes, like you were being sucked right into them. Her flattering and smooth words were only making things difficult, making you wonder why you were avoiding her in the first place. 

“I don’t get it. We’re obviously soulmates, I mean no one has these kinds of marks so why are you avoiding me?” Ashido questioned.

You tore your eyes from her gaze, looking down at the floor below you. “I just… don’t believe all this crap, alright? I’m not going to trust some scars on our bodies to be the thing that defines who my significant other will be.”

Mina chuckled at your response, placing her hands on your shoulders. “That’s why you’ll never know till you try, silly! We finally found each other and I don’t know about you but the minute I found out you were my mate, you were the only thing I could think of. And if you’re willing to, I want to see if this really is fate, if these scars are just silly marks or if we’re really meant to be.”

You looked back and forth from her left and right eye, internally battling out your struggles. You had always told yourself you had no interest in finding out who your mate was and yet you would be lying to yourself if you said Ashido wasn’t on your mind. She was a pro hero, one that saved countless lives and even sacrificed herself during a major accident to save others, one that resulted in her being in a coma. And yet you were a simple nurse, trying to save lives in your own way. She was optimistic about this all and you were as pessimistic as anyone could be. You were both so different yet similar.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” Ashido teased lightly. 

You blinked, shaking your head from the conflicting thoughts running through your mind. You let out a sigh, looking down at the floor again. “Fine… we can give this a try.”

Ashido grinned widely, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you into her embrace. You sucked an air in, feeling flustered once more as her body pressed against yours. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you knew she could feel its rhythm against her skin. Your face was burning up as she pulled away, bringing a hand to your cheek.

“It’s kinda funny… my whole life I’ve been looking through the wrong people for my soul mate and yet she was right beside me, taking care of me without me knowing it,” Mina mumbled, her thumb caressing your cheek.

You felt frozen in place, drawn in by her inviting aura and captivated by her presence. She had a way with words, but the way her touch felt against your skin, the way that she made you feel hot and bothered in the way no man had ever been able to boggled your mind.

“The minute I saw you I wanted to do this…” Mina uttered, dropping her hand to your mid-back and pushed you to her. 

You gasped as her lips met your own, her hand still gently holding your cheek. Her lips were warm yet soft and you moved yours against hers in a slow and steady rhythm.

You wanted to curse yourself out for avoiding her in the way that you did. But in that moment, none of that mattered anymore. You had finally found your soul mate, one that finally matched your scars and one that wasn’t going to run from you in fear of fate breaking your relationship up.

You were willing to give her a chance… as she was fatefully bound to you.

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[chisie12]

Day 6: Forget-Me-Not

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071907/chapters/45947032

‘Ah, fuck. This hurt.’

I paused two steps outside Jack’s room, gripping onto the railing on the wall as the pain in my chest flared. A discomfort lodged itself in my throat and I attempted to breathe, in and out, slow deep motions, but no matter how I tried, the lump didn’t want to go away.  Breaths came out forced, ragged, like a dragon’s claw taking possession of my neck. The dragon commanded its power, wordlessly demanding my life. Equalled with its might of guardianship was its cries for destruction, laying dormant. To protect or to retrieve, were its choices, or to put it simply, to live or to die.

I wheezed a sharp inhale when it squeezed its claw, the lack of air causing my lungs to contract as they desperately scrambled for oxygen. I palmed my chest, fisting the fabric of the shirt, forcing the pain to go down, but I was a victim of my own devices. The metal in my body began to overheat again, the flames laying a fiery path in my veins. My flesh screamed in protest, a dragon’s agonised howling in my ears, rioting as my flesh started to reject the foreign objects, even if they’ve been conjoined for over a decade.

I lifted a foot off the ground, the tips of my toes grazing against the tiles. It was heavy. All my muscles groaned at the simple movement, but with a slow controlled breath, I gripped tightly onto the railings, lifted and dropped the foot forward. Sweat clung to my face, tracing along the pale scars as I panted. I clutched harder at my shirt, feeling the dread settling in.

Would my body not hold out until then? I promised her. Please, let me hold out until then. Don’t fail me now.

It’s one promise I can’t break. Please, don’t make me break it.

The metal seemed to respond to my mental pleas, as though they resonated with the one that had breathed life into them. That if its her, they could do anything, and it was that that also appeased the guardian, making it choose to let me live – even if it was simply a little while longer, just for her.

She was all that filed my mind as I trudged along the corridor. Each step was still as heavy as the first, but it was steady. Instead of pain anchoring me down, the same power of the dragon in my blood floated through my veins, lending me the slight power that it was willing. Soon. I’m almost there.

My palms were hot and sweaty, certainly leaving disgusting trails on the railing for the next person, and the room was already in sight. Just a little more. My feet dragged across the floor, heavy slapping on the tiles and though the pain was suppressed, it still felt hard to breathe. Short pants, heavy, and I stopped. Right before the door.

‘At least their rooms are on the same floor,’ I bitterly thought at how mine was too, but on the other side, far away. A miracle I managed to walk here to be honest. The nurses saw me, but mostly paid attention to their work. They were busy, bustling about like bees hurrying under the orders of their queen.

And I had survived through, without them telling me to go back.

A shaky hand lifted. Deep breath in, and out. The hand rested against the cold metal of the doorknob. What would I see at the other side? Would she welcome me? Or would she rather have Jack visit her instead?

Then the image of her hitting her head and slumping on the ground resurfaced, causing a wave of agony to curl in my heart. With a tight grip on my shirt, I released the deep breath built up in my chest and twisted my wrist. I needed to know, to see with my own two eyes. And the door opened with a click.

Tick.

Tock.

The hands of the clock slapped loudly in my ears. I stepped closer.

Tick.

Tock.

There weren’t any other sounds in the room except for hopeless breaths and loud, echoing ticking. The measured movement was moving in time with the heartbeats crying inside my restless ribs, and my steps moved in sync.

Tick.

Tock.

I still remembered the way her face would light up with a smile, easily drinking away at the coffee, or the way her nose would scrunch up and eyes drifting up as she pondered on something. On her unbroken wings, she would fly, in unspoken promises, that she’d watch our backs. She was there, protecting us. She was valiant. She was merciful.

She was our Mercy.

My chest jumped as the emotions swirled with the misty breaths fogging her mask. Streaks of fire burned my cheeks, unable to hide behind my mask. Each new wave a hot trail of agony as a hand shakily reached out. I lightly brushed her golden hair aside from her forehead. The flames of despair and regret burned brighter than the pains I felt, a deep emptiness filling my heart as the sentiments raged past the seams. Breathing hitched and knees buckling, I fell by her bedside, metal fingers tightly holding her limp one in desperation.

“Angela? Angela, can you hear me?” I choked out. I winced at the pain in my chest, cursing at the bullet wounds I received, and wheezed before trying to calm my myself. She was alright. She’s Angela. My dear Angela...

I still owe you dinner. Please don’t do this to me now.

Warm tears dripped onto her fingers and I quickly wiped it away with my other hand, only to freeze and stare at the crimson tinting it. I stifled a sob, pushing the pain of seeing a lifeless Angela away, as I looked down onto my chest. The green hospital shirt was stained with my blood, the metallic smell spreading and nearly dying the front a full dark red.

No, I breathed out. Fucking wounds, couldn’t you stay closed?

Grimacing, I gingerly swiped at my fallen tears with my metal thumb. Her name fell from my lips in soft whimpers as I pulled my body back away from her bed, unwilling to stain it – or her. My murmured voice spoke of sweet promises under my breaths as my vision started to distort, the painful yet beautiful sight of her blurring under a greying curtain. I forced my eyes open, pushing hard against the bandages that hid the surgical wounds while the blood continued escaping. I spoke of our future date, that I would bring her to an exquisite restaurant, possibly high up in the sky, because an angel like her deserves only the best the sky could offer, like a vast expanse to anywhere her freedom so desired. Through the entrance, past the short water wall with clear transparent water falling like a curtain would bring about a zen-like feel, so that she may feel at peace. I’d then lead her to a table made private with the bamboo separators, near the large open windows where she could watch the night sky sprinkled with stars hopefully visible despite the light pollution. There would be a different kind of serenity as potted plants, though sparse, decorated the place, with her smiles and laughter the best event of the night.  

“Of course... I wouldn’t... forget the Swiss... chocolate... too.”

......

...

“I found him! He’s in here!” A nurse called out frantically as the ajar door was flung open in panic. Light footsteps entered the room, rushing towards the fallen patient on the floor, blood slowly seeping out from his clothes.

“Hurry and prepare the operating room!” A doctor yelled as he picked up the half-cyborg, half-human man with a grunt and carefully settled him on the wheeled stretcher that a nurse brought in. “Get someone to clean the mess up too!”

“Yes, doctor!”

The nurses ran to get the corresponding tasks done. Even though they looked kind of helter-skelter, there was a certain method to their chaos. One checked Angela’s vitals, searching for anything amiss while those by their station hurried to prepare the documents the doctor on surgery would need.

A nurse carrying a bucket of soapy water, bleach and a rag dragged her feet into the room, cursing inwardly at having to do the dirty work just because she was the newest and youngest of the group stationed today. When she walked through the door, she was startled at the ginger haired doctor already standing beside the unconscious patient.

“Oh? Who are you?”

“I’m new,” the doctor replied nonchalantly without even looking up from the papers in her hand.

‘Then they should have given the cleaning for you to do,’ the young nurse grumbled internally as she fell to her knees by the puddle of blood, noticing the lack of wrinkles of the new doctor and thinking that she was rather young. “Seriously, why can’t that patient just sit still,” she complained while scrubbing the floor. “No one should even be able to move after surgery!”

“Don’t you know who that patient was?” The ginger nurse calmly checked the machines Angela was hooked up to. Her bright auburn hair fell to cover the dark glint in her eyes as she looked down to inspect the mask.

“No,” the nurse on the floor grunted, wringing the rag in the bucket beside her. “Some lovesick man looking for Doctor Ziegler?” She scoffed.

Yes. They all knew of Doctor Angela Ziegler, a talent in their industry. Read her academic journals and findings with nanobiology and her work on cybernetics. They were surprised when the beautiful, well-known doctor turned up by the hospital, and even more shocked when they found out it was related to the hotel scare that happened not long ago.

“That was, I believe, Genji Shimada.” The older nurse wrote some data on the paper on her clipboard, her dual coloured pupils turning sharp. “The first successful experiment of Doctor Ziegler. Rumours has it that she saved him from the brink of death.”

“Wait, he’s the robotic guy?”

“More like a cyborg.”

“Ugh,” the younger nurse groaned as she finished scrubbing the blood away. Thankfully it was still fresh. “Yeah and? He can’t possibly be experiencing the Florence Nightingale effect? He looks so ugly.”

The ginger nurse didn’t bother chiding her for the insult. Not all nurses were after all, compassionate. Or lawful. “It doesn’t matter what we think. Stop being gossipy. Go back to work.”

“Alright, alright,” and the younger nurse left after finishing her task.

When she was sure that the younger nurse left, the older nurse turned back to stare at Angela’s face. The blonde’s features were twitching in pain, brows tight and nearly touching, while sweat covered her pores.

“Poor, poor Doctor Ziegler,” the only other person in the room cooed flatly, resting a hand on her hip. “What mess did you get yourself into now?”

The doctor flipped a page on her clipboard with a thoughtful hum. Details of Angela’s last hospital visit was recorded, noting the concussion and injury on the brain, and the blood loss that occurred. Looking at the date, as she calculated the weeks, she found that it was roughly 18 weeks ago.

“Ah, and you still haven’t fully recovered your memories? Well, it’s no surprise. These quack doctors telling you that you'll remember and recover in a short time.” The nurse rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. “Your body is already functioning different from ordinary humans, with your applied nanobiology. Of course, you wouldn’t fully recover.” She proceeded to put the clipboard by the bedside table, her hands then hovering above Angela’s forehead. “They can’t. But I can.”

~*~*~

A heavy feeling weighed on my mind, a looming presence drifting closer to me in the vast darkness. My heart raced faster at the mere knowledge that something was there, yet I couldn’t see it, nor did it make a sound. A ghostly apparition making its way to me and I scrambled back. If it was the Grim Reaper or a convoy to hell, I wouldn’t want to know. Not now. I don’t want to go.

A sharp pain in my chest jerk my attention towards it, but as I looked down, I saw nothing but a fair bare-chested torso. Shaky hands slowly flitted over my skin, running across the perfect unblemished skin, across the ridges of my still existing abs, feeling the narrow waist and defined hips, made of flesh and not metal. Human-looking skin, back to when I was still the young clan heir of the Shimada, back to the time before my older brother cut me up, destroy my limbs, when I lived a carefree life without another care in the world, just me, myself and I (and the ladies of course). A disgruntled groan rolled off my tongue when a slow, burning pain dragged itself across my chest, before periodic stabs hooked itself onto my flesh. Resisting the urge to cry out, I fell to my knees, painfully aware that the unknown presence still watched me with a penetrating gaze. I looked down onto my chest, confused as I writhe in pain, at the lack of cuts or puncture marks. They felt so real, too real to be a vivid dream.

This was real. It’s happening.

“Argh…”

Desperate fingers clawed and clutched at my chest, but the useless attempts at easing the pain never subsided, not even when I allowed the darkness to swallow me whole once more, all the while that eerie pair of eyes watched me unendingly.

……

…

A blinding light engulfed my sights when my eyes flew open with a desperate gasp for air. My eyes were dry, that much I could tell as they squinted at the bare contact with the air and wished they were hiding behind their protectors. Groaning, I tried to get myself to sit up with my elbows. I had barely succeeded with lifting my body a mere inch off the bed when a calloused hand stopped me by the shoulders, and when I struggled, the person simply forced me back down onto the bed with a push.

“The fuck…?”

“You should stay in bed, love.”

“Lena?” I groggily turned my head to my right, faintly making out a petite woman munching on peeled, cut apples. Sunlight was lighting up the outline of the curtained window behind her. She held some apples out to me, the smell of fresh, juicy apples sneaking into my senses.

If Lena’s here, then…

“Yo,” Jesse grinned lopsidedly at me.

I groaned.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you didn’t want us to visit you,” Jesse mock pouted. “Do you not want us anymore? Sob.”

Lena rolled her eyes at the cowboy’s drama as she proceeded to slowly feed me the apples that I gratefully nibbled on. Not to my surprise, I couldn’t really move my arms or feet, much less feel my fingers. “You were out for a while after surgery, again.”

I sunk my head further into the pillows as another groan escaped. I stared at the opposite wall with half lidded eyes, memories of last night streaming through my mind. Her blonde hair matted against her forehead, covered in bandages, beautiful features scrunched up in pain that made my heart ache with her every twitch. She looked so weak, so… vulnerable. Her breaths slowly fogged the oxygen mask, the machines hooked up to her the only other indicator that she was still alive.

Was she even cleared of the poisons?

“If you’re worried about Doctor Ziegler, she’s all right. I’ve asked the nurses. She’s not poisoned either. She’s just hurt her head really badly this time,” Lena explained upon noticing the tight furrows of my eyebrows.

I tilted my head to look at her, a frown setting upon my lips with my brows furrowing even tighter. Hurting her head really bad this time? …That was my fault.

If only I had been more careful when I had pushed her out of harm’s way, if only my foot hadn’t shocked itself when I twisted around, causing me to fall and stumble.

Lena watched as her bedridden friend squeezed his eyes shut, that scarred countenance twisted into such pain. She glanced over at Jesse, a silent tacit understanding communicating between the two. How were they to help? Words were meaningless, no matter how well they meant them, because before they could help, Genji had to allow them to work first, to accept their words, their help. Everything in life, was always a choice after all. And for now, if he chose to wallow in pain, they'll let him. Just for a little while.

She could only reach out a hand and pat his head, caressing it gently, ignoring the glistening wetness that stubbornly formed beneath his lashes. Seeing him like this made her heart ache. She missed the Genji that would crack jokes with her, the one she could tease and laugh with. This… this was just too painful.

I… I hadn’t known how much time had passed. The sunlight was no longer trying to peek through the curtains and my two friends were already long gone, leaving me alone to the silence of the night. And my thoughts. Thoughts that kept wandering back to…

I sighed.

Flexing my fingers, I felt the blood swimming through my veins as the sensation of touch returned. Slowly, I observed my body from within, sensing out the changes that occurred. To no surprise, my cyborg self was still breaking down, but not as bad to the point where I would no longer function properly. With a deep breath, I tried to then get up, only to realise the futility of my situation when I had to bite at my bottom lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain speared through my torso and my left foot, realising then that lower limb was bent weirdly from the shape beneath the blankets. It couldn’t properly straighten, dangling at an angle to the side, as though broken. My expression darkened. I suspected that it would take at least half a year before I break down completely at this rate. Then glancing down, I lifted up the neckline of the shirt to stare at the bandages wrapped around my torso, remembering the bullets that were lodged there from the mission.

Once again, I sighed.

What am I to do now?

I didn’t have the mood to play with my phone, no mood to watch the muted television in front of me. All the television spoke off was about a man that had gone missing for over a week now and still not found, only really taking notice when I realised that his build was similar to Slade’s.

I laid there motionless, imagining that I was a corpse (I wasn’t that far off from one anyway), and just counted the seconds as they passed. Time seemed to congeal at that moment, its passing lost in my mind. A slow road to recovery.

At 9pm, my door clicked open as a nurse walked in. I immediately shut my eyes, pretending now to be asleep, listening intently on the sounds of her footsteps. I heard the relief in her released breath when the steps neared my bed (was I truly that frightening to ‘normal’ humans?), and I felt her presence by my IV drip. The tinkering of metal and crinkling of plastic drifted into my ears while she replaced the bag, until her voice joined as well.  

“So many scars...” she muttered. “Why did Doctor Ziegler save someone like you?”

I resisted the urge to move, to roll onto my side and peek my eyes open. Yeah. Just why indeed did she save me? Was it her instincts as a doctor to not let anyone die? Or did she want to try her hand at saving a life that was on the brink of death?

The sounds stopped, but I knew the nurse was still there. Her breathing was soft, and I felt her stare scrutinising my every scar laid bare.

“And why did you go and see her? Can’t really be the Florence Nightingale effect could it?” A pause. “Ugh, whatever. He's not even handsome. Not reaally my type.”

Her footsteps eventually died as she left the room, closing the door behind her with a click.

‘Who the fuck cares if I’m your type?’

When I was sure she left, I opted to turn my head to the side, staring at the ends of the curtain dangling motionless. A bitter smile played off my lips. Handsome, was it? I used to be. Not anymore.

Just like how no one wanted me.

Closing my eyes, I released the pent-up frustrations, the sadness, in one deep long sigh.

No one.

It was bright when I woke up the next day, just in time to see a male doctor standing by the foot of the bed and checking the clipboard detailing my condition.

As though sensing that I was awake, the doctor looked up and smiled despite my silence. “Good afternoon. I'm guessing you slept well?”

I nodded mutely.

“Good, good. Any discomfort anywhere?”

I shook my head. A blatant lie.

He came over to my side while the nurse carefully lifted up my shirt to change my bandages, silently observing as she did. His eyes trailed over the markings of past battles and the surgical marks he created, checking that the sutures were properly in place, before taking a step back. “The second surgery was a success, though I’ll advise for you to not move until the wounds are closed. As much as I’ve helped you remove the bullet wounds, I couldn’t fix the cyberised parts of your body.”

My eyebrows darted up high to my hairline. He could tell?

Seeing my reaction, the doctor continued, although albeit embarrassed, “I'm a huge fan of Doctor Ziegler’s work and have read on her works regarding applied nanobiology and cybernetics. When we found you in her room, I thought you were most likely one of her projects that she worked on.”

His words zoned out in my mind, falling onto deaf ears as I let the hope sizzle into ashes.

Projects? Hah... I guess that’s all I was.

I finally turned to lay on my side as the doctor continued rambling on. I refused to look at him any longer. A glance was enough to imprint his lustrous black locks in my mind, the bangs swept back in a nice fashionable gel, and his bright blue eyes lighting up at the mention of the famous Doctor Ziegler. Tall and slim, well built. A young, charismatic, handsome man.

More handsome than me. And most definitely not a project.

‘Stop it, Genji.’

‘It's true. I'm ugly. I'm a monster.’

‘You fucking idiot. Stop. If you miss her so much, go and see her. Better than this self-pity party you’re not inviting her to.’

I bitterly chuckled. What more could I actually say? Anyone, anyone would be a better fit for her than me. Glancing at the embarrassed doctor from the doctor of my eye, I ignored him as he left the room. The hours passed, I ate what was given and didn’t get to see Jesse or Lena that day.

But when night came, I decided to hold onto the crazy end of my mind and meet her. It was already a few days since the mission and us ending up at the hospital, and after the surgeries, my body seemed to somewhat hold up. I hope. Dragging my legs slowly with controlled breathing, deep pants to ease the pain, I stood up. A muted sharp cry escaped through gritted teeth as I dropped and stumbled. I glared down with a frown at my left foot that was evidently broken. The ankle part was broken, the limb twisted, where bottom of the foot was facing the left.

‘Fuck, just fuck.’ Gripping onto the sheets, I tried to stand again, only to wince and sink my teeth into my lips with a snarl. ‘This shit fucking hurts!’

In a haze of madness, I planted the foot with the sole furthest away on the floor, my leg bent weirdly. The metal bed frame creaked and dented under my grip, and in one clean move, crack! I forcibly twisted the foot back into place, causing disagreeing shocks to rampage in my nerves. My breathing grew haggard, coming out in short puffs as black spots attacked my already blurring vision. I tightened my grip in response. That shit hurt, really fucking hurt. But it was only metal, shattered bits and cracks of something that wasn’t alive in the first place, and when the first wave of pain was over, and I had control of my sight and breathing again, I tested the water once more.

I probably must have broken that pain nerves of that foot, over-shocked it into oblivion, because I could now stand on feet that actually looked normal. Slightly wobbly, but I could walk. Enough for me to crawl out of bed and stand, to quietly make my way through to the other side without the nurses on my tail. I looked fairly normal to outsiders, but internally, I was screaming. My chest would hurt at the slightest wrong move and if I went too fast, my breathing couldn't catch up.

Passing Jack’s room, my steps halted in hesitation. I bit the insides of my cheek, mind whirling with questions before choosing to move on.

A deep breath in to stabilise my emotions and I twisted the doorknob, silently pushing my IV pole in. The closing click of the door rang loudly in my ears, followed by the loud thumping of my heart as I watched wide eyed and mouth agape. Turning her attention away from the window, her profile was illuminated by the moonlight that was streaming into the unlit room, setting her golden locks ablaze. There was a large cotton gauze taped on her head and her vivid blue eyes seemed to twinkle a little brighter in the dark, lit up with utter joy. Joy? Me? Here?

“Genji!” She lifted a hand that was folded on her lap and waved. “You’re all right!”

“Mmm,” I hummed in acknowledgment.

My steps were slow but sure as I made my way to her side, dark eyes scanning every inch of her face for the smallest of signs that something was wrong, but when her grinning lips fell into a confused gape and her head slightly tilted, I felt my face split in half at the wide grin reaching ear to ear. “You’re okay,” I breathed out, resting a hand by her bed as I sat down on the empty chair.

“Yeah, I feel better.” She nodded resolutely, and a burden seemed to have lifted from my shoulders when I sat up straighter and let out a relieved sigh. “How are you feeling?”

“Haha,” I chuckled humourlessly. “As good as I can be. Doc already patched me up here.”

“Oh, that’s good...”

I reached out my hand, slowly like you would to not frighten an animal, and Angela stayed still, allowing my fingers to brush against the gauze. My sombre gaze dropped to find hers, still twinkling bright, looking up at me from beneath her lashes. A silence fell over us. Comfortable and peaceful, with the rhythms of our breathing the orchestra for the night.

My hand trailed down to her cheeks, the back of my fingers tracing her jawline before holding onto her chin. She shuddered under my fingertips as my thumb rubbed just below her bottom lip.

“Genji,” she called out while gripping my hand in hers. A panic inwardly rose when I caught her serious expression. Her cheeks were slightly pink and I froze in fear. The bliss I felt squeaked like a frightened mouse and turned tail. Was she going to ask me to leave? Did she want to chase me out? Wait, if she was, then she wouldn’t hold my hand.

“Y-Yes?”

A roll of her eyes. If she caught onto my nervousness, she never mentioned it. “When are you going to take me out for the dinner?”

I blinked slowly at her. Dinner? Dinner... oh, dinner. I gulped the nervous lump in my throat, feeling the warmth of her fingers covering mine. Our faces were still so close, her breaths fanning my lips. “When we’ve both recovered. I think we can have the dinner then.”

She beamed at me and I felt the tips of my ears go pink. “Sounds great! I can’t wait for it.”

I nodded in agreement.

My hand slowly left her face and I thought to settle back into the chair when she lightly tugged at my limb. “Angela?”

She said nothing, but when she tugged at my hand again, I let her pull me closer. My body was bent over her bed while she leaned nearer and lifted her other hand to caress my scars. Was she appalled by them? Did she find them ugly? My gaze darkened as I dropped my head, casting shadows over my eyes for fear she’d see the hopelessness and fear in them. She’s not the same Angela I once knew, yet she’s still fanned the flames of my love that I forcibly dimmed. It was the same face, the same smile, but the cafe owner Angela was like a new breath of fresh air. She was freer, happier. Maybe this was better, for her to not recover her memories. She was happy as Doctor Ziegler, but she was tied down and restricted. As cafe owner Angela, there was nothing to worry about except for the bills and customers, and she genuinely loved it there.

But then I felt it, the warm moisture of her lips upon the scar on my cheek. Frightened like a poor deer caught in the headlights, I froze at the contact. When she pulled back, I was too afraid to ask, to afraid to break the bubble she created. I closed my eyes as her lips peppered my face, on every scar that carved itself onto my skin, from my cheeks, to my forehead, before moving down to the long, deep one by my nose.

“I feel like you’re afraid, Genji...” she whispered softly, a trace melancholy tinting her voice. She too, didn’t dare ask him anything. Why he’d freeze at her touch, why’d he keep his distance. Had he not loved her?

“N-No, I'm not. I'm just...” I reluctantly pulled back and was I allowed to feel the slightest shred of disappointment when she didn’t stop me? I glanced into her questioning gaze, feeling utterly small at that very moment before dropping imine to my lap. “It’s just... aren’t you together with Jack?”

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline in pure confusion. “What? Since when?”

I looked back at her, an eyebrow of my quirking up in similar confusion. “Aren’t you? Jack said –”

“What did he say,” her face twisted into a slight snarl when realisation dawned upon her. What more lies did Jack tell? What more did he keep from her?

Seeing her twitching in rage, my eyes flew wide open as I tried to explain, “No, no. He didn’t say that you were together, but he made it sound like it. So, I thought –"

“We’re not. We were never dating,” she glared at her hands. “He was only a close friend of mine, someone I trusted.”

I had caught onto that last word but didn’t have the chance to ask when she continued.

“He was just the only one there when I woke up in the hospital. I didn’t remember anything or know anyone, but he felt familiar, he was kind. Naturally I would be close to him.”

“Wait, hospital? You were in the hospital? When?” I straightened in my seat, a sense of panic running through me. I hadn’t heard anything of that sort!

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Yeah, hospital. About a little over four months ago? I woke up in a hospital and he was the only one by my side. Wait, he never told you?”

I bitterly shook my head. “No.” Of course, he didn’t. But I didn’t wish to dwell on it any further, because at the very least, the biggest misunderstanding was cleared.

She watched him visibly relax and the anger diffused as well. Misunderstandings could always be talked through at a later time. Calling out his name softly, she beckoned for him to come closer.

“Huh?”

“I’m not done. Come here.” She grinned.

My eyes widened as a blush crept along my neck and onto my cheeks upon realising what she meant. Lips parted to question her, but I crumbled at the stern, slightly narrowed glare. I obediently leaned forward.

“Do you hate your scars a lot?”

I closed my eyes as she took my face in her hands, tracing the scars on my face as she lightly pecked each one. “Mhmm...”

“Why though?” she pulled back slightly when she was sure she kissed every one of them. “Do they still hurt?”

I shook my head. “They’re ugly.”

“Really?” She forced my gaze to hold hers. I could only bitterly smile when I saw her beautiful countenance up close, thinking that I'll never be able to stand next to her. “I think...” she murmured, a finger grazing the deep cut across my face, “that the strongest souls emerged from suffering.”

Before I could ask any further, her hands dropped after giving me a long, tender kiss on my forehead. “You’re fine the way you are, Genji.”

It was odd indeed. When she had awoken, she found that she remembered of some memories of her past, especially of those when she was recruited into Overwatch. She recalled the events that had transpired and of the related people. They were coming to her in waves and didn’t hurt one bit, like a scene of a drama that was playing, only that it happened in her head and not on a screen.

My heart felt warm and fuzzy at her words, and a smile blossomed on my face. “Thank you, Angela.”

She returned my smile and then we descended into silence once more. I stared at her, watching her comb her hair with her fingers as she leaned against the bedframe.

“You know, I think they should have kirsch in the hospital,” she grumbled lightly under her breath, breaking the silence. “I'm suddenly craving for my special coffee.”

A peal of joyful laughter burst out from my chest. “I'm pretty sure alcohol isn’t allowed in hospitals.” Her bottom lip jutted out into a pout and I leaned over to pat her head, gazing deeply into her eyes. “I'll order you one for our dinner. Sounds good?”

“Mhmm, it does.”

And just like that, we spoke into the night, speaking of random ordinary topics of food and drinks, more specifically the coffee. She had laid down on her side at some point, eyes fighting to stay awake, her lashes constantly fluttering softly. I continued whispering of pleasant scenarios to her, of stargazing in an empty meadow, of trying macaroons on the Eiffel Tower, of strolling under the Sakura trees in Hanamura... up until her eyes remained closed and her breathing grew heavy. They were pleasant to her, but bittersweet to me. Why did I have to say those words? I was already leaving. I shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

‘But I hoped she would not forget me. That I'm not just someone passing in her life.’

The days and nights passed like that, and as I was recovering, I’d constantly drop by her room in the dead of the night with a rose I’d find in the hospital gardens. Her laughter in the hospital gave me the joy and willpower to simply not run away from it, and I hadn’t seen Jack either; He was already discharged long ago. And I supposed it was a struck of fate that we could be discharged together too.

If my calculations were right, it was already 5 months since her incident in the hospital. So many changes in such a short time. She was back to her cafe and I returned to the bureau to report myself.

I stood outside Jack’s office, back in the comfort of my suit, fingering the letter in my hands.

“Come in,” Jack called, and I entered.

I ignored my shaky movements, trying to look as natural as possible, but there was something lodged in my knees, blocking it from bending properly. There was a drag in my arms as I tried to move my elbows. Slowly. It would be my end.

“Genji, how are you?”

I could tell that Jack was trying to maintain his professionalism, from his flat tone and steady gaze, yet his interlaced fingers betrayed his emotions. They were tightly bound, shoulder muscles tensed. His eyes dropped to the envelope in my hand.

“I'm good, commander. I'm also here to hand in my resignation.”

Taken aback, his fingers slowly unlaced themselves, reluctantly receiving the letter from my outstretched hand. “R-Resignation?” He parroted Genji as though he couldn’t believe his ears.

I firmly nodded. “I would like to quit.”

“B-But...” Jack stopped himself there. What right did he have to go question an old friend’s motives? His own motives were already questionable enough. He stared into Genji’s eyes that were steady and unyielding, and he sighed. Settling the envelope on the table, he rubbed at his temples. “Alright. Take care, Genji.” Just like that, Genji Shimada was unemployed. No more words were said

I nodded my head, pausing in my spot. As though he sensed my intentions, Jack lifted his head to gaze sadly at me. His lips were pressed into a thin line, eyebrows curved in reluctance.

“Where will you go?”

My hopes dashed at his words. Biting back the irritation in my voice, I replied, “Not sure. Maybe I'll go find Zen.”

“But Angela...?”

I shook my head, choosing not to respond. “Thank you for everything you've done for me so far, commander.”

Jack waved it off. “I'm no longer your commander. Just call me Jack.”

“Jack,” I tested the words on my tongue, feeling somehow bittersweet. It was an unspoken promise between friends, yet an invisible boundary of separation. “I wish you the best, Jack.”

“Same to you, Genji.”

I turned and left the office, the unpleasant taste of regret and broken hopes drifting heavily in the air. “Goodbye, Gabriel,” I said when I noticed the tall dark man standing by the door to Jack’s office. “Thank you for everything in the last years.” For taking care of me, for the laughter you’ve given.

Gabriel’s face twisted into an embarrassed scowl as a thick heavy hand ruffled my hair. “You're really going to leave?” He asked, having overheard.

“Yes, I think it's time to relax. I'll go and find Zen, perhaps.”

He nodded sadly. “Take care of yourself.”

“I'm not leaving yet. I plan to lounge around before I do.”

“Sounds good.”

A foot was lifted, ready to leave when I turned around to find him staring after me with a sombre gaze. “Can I give you a hug before I go?” I’d always remember my times in Blackwatch and how he’d always took care of Jesse and I (the other man was the troublemaker. I'm innocent). Wish I told him before, but this man was more of a father than Sojiro ever was.

Gabriel scoffed and rolled his eyes, but it couldn't contain the trace of joy that shone through. “Come ‘ere.”

I chuckled and squeezed the bigger man tight, hopefully conveying all I never said with that. Angela’s condition made me realise how short life could be, that anything would happen, yet I couldn't bear to stay because of that exact reason. I didn't want them to despair when they found out of my condition, and (I glanced at Jack in his office as I hugged Gabriel) I didn't want to expose Jack for what he's done. That was the last bit of mercy that I could give him.

“Take care, Genji.” Gabriel patted my back, watching until I turned around the corridor. The smile on his face dropped as he turned into Jack's office and locked the door behind him. “What's going to happen now? Our best spy and infiltrator just left.”

He didn't have the heart to hold him back and things were dire. The situation was a lot worse than they thought, yet he didn’t want to burden one of his best men (son) with it.

Jack groaned and massaged his temples. “What more can I do? I'll figure out a way. Don't worry.”

Gabriel pursed his lips.

They had found out that the Slade they captured was a fake, a decoy, which explained the sheer madness of the man in trying to bury himself along with them. Their intel was insufficient, lacking, when the news of Slade having a twin brother surfaced, and this was only because the same man had gone missing from his office a week before the mission. Even he hadn't known that his older brother was knee deep into the operations as an underground drug ring leader. The twin brother had gone mad from the drugs administered into him and was now lying unconscious on the bureau's medical bed slowly recovering. He was also our best bet at capturing the real Slade.

“I'll be fine, Gabe. Trust me.”

And that was all Gabriel could bet on.

 ~*~*~

 “Angela!”

The blonde laughed as the smaller Asian woman pounced into her arms and gave the biggest bear hug possible. “Hi, Mei!”

“I'm sorry that you had to tend to the cafe by yourself.”

“It’s okay. I'm happy to do it if it lets you recover properly.” Mei was overjoyed in seeing her friend in one piece. When Jack had thought that the cafe owner would stay put in the cafe, he had assigned for Mei to remain back to protect Angela, but who’d have thought that their sweet, strict (independent) Mercy would rather rush head on into danger instead?

Angela got right into work, greeting each colleague as she got herself ready to work, having already been updated on the cafe affairs when Mei had come to visit. She was cleared on her head injury when the doctors observed no abnormalities in her.

Mei noticed the little skip in her friend’s steps, the cheerful tune as she hummed. “Did something good happen?” she giggled.

Angela avoided Mei’s teasing gaze while focusing on putting the empty tray back on the counter. “It's nothing.”

Mei laughed heartily, arranging the food in the display nicely. “Sure, sure. I guess your blush means nothing.”

Ignoring her friend, Angela decided to instead busy herself with the counter. Mei turned back to her tasks, happier than when she first started. Something seemed different with Angela today, something that was there before separating the two was not there anymore.

After a moment, Mei heard Angela exclaim in confusion. “What's wrong?”

There were sounds of paper crinkling as Angela removed the bag from under the counter.

“Oh, the bag Genji left.” She peered over. “What’s in it?”

“I'm not sure,” Angela frowned at the slightly heavy weight. “I'm going to take a quick break.” Straightening herself, she retreated into the kitchen, away from prying customer eyes to look. The cooks were busy cooking up a storm, sparing only a simple greeting before returning to work.

She was curious. Why would he leave a bag like this here? Why hadn't he taken it back? A hand entered the bag’s mouth and she felt the hardness of paper on her fingertips. Gripping it securely, she pulled it out, the plain unadorned ivory book cover appearing before her eyes. The words [花笑み] were written in gold calligraphy, below it the romaji [Hanaemi]. The book wasn’t thick, probably just about an inch in thickness, and it had contrasting covers; ivory for the front and black for the back. [切ない] were the words brushed in gold upon the back cover, with [Setsunai] written below it; A similar yet contrasting design to the front. With her curiousity piqued further, she turned back to the front page and opened the book.

[A smile as beautiful as blooming flowers.]

There was only that one sentence written on the page. Yes, written. Her fingers traced the words, feeling the bumps as she did. She was certain, this was handwritten. When she turned the page, the story then began.

It spoke of the beautiful smile a certain woman had, detailing of her small quirks that she had. How she loved drinking kirsch in her coffee, the way her nose would scrunch, and her eyes would drift up when she pondered on something.

She found her lips tugging into a smile as she continued to read, this time turning into a random page. The book had then gone to describing a scene, one that somehow struck familiar. It spoke of how the woman had dressed up as a witch during Halloween, down to even having black pointy hat. That night during Halloween, the Overwatch team had celebrated with spooky food and drinks, and of course, trying to beat each other with the biggest loot of candy. It further detailed the event, of how Jesse the dressed as Van Helsing had gotten drunk, and how Mei, dressed as the Chinese zombie, was trying to scare the living daylights out of said drunk Jesse, and essentially how happy everyone was.

It was this particular part that struck her odd. Because this happened to be one of the few memories she recently remembered.

A weird thought crossed her mind.

Turning the book over, she stared at the calligraphy that painted the dark cover before turning to the first page. There, written like the first page on the front, was a lone sentence: [A bittersweet feeling, painful yet wistful.]

On the next page, was a sombre tone setting the book. It wasn’t much like a memoir of what she read earlier but a narration like an actual story.

 ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

 Dear reader, I wish I could tell you that it ends well.

That I found her after two weeks, that nothing had actually happened to her, that it was just a simple misunderstanding. Perhaps, she had gone on an impromptu trip to the Arctic to see the penguins and polar bears, to be surrounded by all the fluff and majestic wonders of life in the ice and snow, doing all that research and contemplating on medical magic like she normally would.

Because last night, I dreamt that I woke up after lying asleep on her lap — one of my favourite moments in life. I closed my eyes and drew in a lung full of air, letting out a contented sigh. I focused on her fingers in my hair, the sound of paper rustling and smelled the alcoholic coffee wafting in the room. A few minutes stretched out like an eternity, a blissful eternity. Outside the room, the pitter patter of rain began to fall.

“Oh, it’s raining.” A whisper barely audible tickling my ears.

“Mmm, it would seem like it is.”

There was silence when she spoke again. “If I recall, it was raining when I found you too.”

My body stiffened at her words and my eyes finally cracked open, falling first on the ever-present smile, and I instinctively relaxed. “Yeah, it was raining just like this at that time.”

She hummed and went back to her book, and I went back to enjoying her warmth. These moments were just short intermissions from the daily hecticness of our lives, but it was all we needed at times.

“I’m glad that I did though.”

“Huh?” My eyes flew open.

She peeked over her book, her gaze glinting in amusement from behind the glasses. “It allowed me to meet you.”

I shifted on her lap so that I fully faced her, and I chuckled when she jumped at my hand touching her cheek. With her attention stolen from the book, I gazed at her as the world around me fall away.

I vividly remember my lips parting as I wanted to tell her — tell her things that I left unsaid, but when I saw the dull white ceiling of my single bedroom dormitory, I was slapped in the face, back into the harsh reality; That I still haven’t seen her in the past two weeks, of neither hide nor hair. Not even my calls or texts were going through. I initially thought that she hadn’t texted me in that week I was away because she hadn’t wanted to disturb me during the mission, but even two weeks later? It’s been a long time… And the worst is not even seeing her in the office.

 ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

 With shaky hands, Angela finally lifted her head from the book, sinking her teeth onto her bottom lip. What that from Genji’s point of view? There was a trace of sadness in those blue eyes of hers when she thought of how the poor man must have been lonely, and adding onto her attitude weeks ago, gods, she couldn’t even fathom how he didn’t hate her yet. A deep breath in, and she tried to steady her emotions, forcing the tears to disappear and her heart to slow.

Carefully bending the book, she lightly flipped the pages open, seeing the rush of blurred words – handwritten words – dance, when it suddenly hitched and stopped. Confused, she opened the book at the page it stopped at, picking up the hidden bookmark that was left inside. The bookmark was unique; A dried and flattened red rose that had lost its lustre was laminated and cut into a rectangular bookmark, with a golden ribbon tied at the end. She lifted it up to peer at it closer when she realised the uneven marks in the transparent film. They looked a lot like dried glue. Turning the bookmark over, she traced its cut edges as an indescribable feeling started to churn in her stomach. It was handmade, done with the use of clear glue stick and a pair of transparent film paper. She guessed that the dried roses were placed in between the transparent films after he applied a large section of glue, where he then constantly flattened it and allowed it to dry before actually cutting it up.

She thought that the surprises were over, intending to put the bookmark back, when her eyes caught sight the words written on the open pages. She was drawn in, like a curious cat to a box.

 ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

 Dear Angela,

There were many things that I wished I could tell you, but I don’t know where to start.

When we first met, I was broken, more than any person should possibly be, and you saved me. You gave me grace and patience, kindness and care, even though all I ever gave you then was unresolved anger and despair. You could have given up on me, but you didn’t.

Now, after years of silently loving you, if I had to choose one thing to say, it was ‘Thank You’. I believe I never told you that enough, never shown you that enough.

Thank you.

You are the reason for my every smile and is the reason for the beauty in my world. You are my joy, my angel, the purest person in my heart. And falling in love with you, was the best choice of my life, even if it was never my choice to make. I hadn’t chosen to fall in love with you, I could not control it. Your smile, your personality, everything about you made it impossible for me to simply do anything else. And each day, I found myself falling ever more in love with you.

Thank you.

And I hope that now, you find your happiness, Angela.

Because…

 When spring comes again,

I only have one wish, that

You’ll remember me.

 ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

[wvtchful-a]

Sometimes I wish that I were dead    As dead can be, but then again At times when I've been nicely fed    On caviar or guinea hen And I am wearing something new    And reassuring, I decide It might be better to eschew    My tendency to cyanide.

— MARGARET FISHBACK

APP

( KATE SIEGEL, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER ) — ✧ THAT LOOKS LIKE THEORA TREVOR! THEY’RE THE THIRTY SIX YEAR OLD DAUGHTER OF DIANA PRINCE & STEVE TREVOR. THEY ARE ALSO AN ER DOCTOR AT THE HOSPITAL. I HEAR THEY’RE DETERMINED & FOCUSED, BUT TEND TO BE STOIC & CYNICAL. HER FILE SAYS THAT HER POWER IS HALF AMAZONIAN PHYSIOLOGY. { CHRIS }

STATS

name: theora hippolyta trevor

age: thirty six

gender/pronouns: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: bisexual

powers: half amazonian physiology

BIO (death tw, blood tw, general medical stuff cw, suicidal ideation tw)

Growing up, you swore, sometimes, that you knew Adrian better than you knew yourself. Wherever he was, you followed when you were young. As you two grew older and he found himself in a gang, you watched. (Theora did mean watcher, anyway.) You watched for any sign he needed your help or for any injuries that needed tended to. 

You wanted to be a hero, like your mother. Watching her and listening to the stories about her, a need to change the world was instilled within you. You looked up to her, wanted to be just like her one day. It became your goal and your passion. You would be strong like her, someone that the world could look up to. There was nothing you wanted more, except maybe to keep Adrian safe.

School never bothered you much. At least, it never challenged you. You learned quickly, and lessons passed in quiet boredom. College had always been your plan. Get a degree, and then put on on a cape, you promised yourself. After that, you’d be ready to live up to your mother’s legacy. (Take note, this self doubt is a bit of a theme.)

Before you even knew you wanted to be a doctor, you learned to suture out of concern for Adrian and the people he spent his time on. Worry built up within you, and it lessened only when you poured yourself into research about the proper care of wounds and scars and tattoos. The decision to study medicine was made before you started applying to colleges.

The years Adrian spent in prison were the worst years of your life. It served as a precursor, a sign of your tendency to shatter. (You should’ve realized you were not meant to be a hero then.) Without him at your side, you felt like you were nothing. Life passed as a blur. School and studying and training and visiting Adrian. And after his release, you pulled yourself back together slowly. It was okay, he was back. Your world was no longer ending.

High school ended. You enrolled in college. You trained to be a hero. You got a biology degree. Doubt seized you, and after college, you applied to a few medical schools in the States. A new promise was made. (After, after, after.) You enrolled in the NYU School of Medicine. Goodbyes hurt more than you wanted to admit, especially to Adrian. (He had already left, though, and London never felt right without him.) Still, you left.

By the time you finally put on a suit and a mask, you already had your M.D. and hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. You balanced it with a residency in Emergency Medicine, it was a miracle you got any sleep.

Everything went wrong, of course everything went wrong. Every insult your mind provided about your capability to be a hero like your mother proved correct. Every doubt, every worry. A girl died because you were not good enough to be a hero, too distracted and too idealistic and too weak and too foolish and too soft and too confident to do anything for her. It broke you. (At least your heart still beat, at least you were not lowered into the ground, at least your family and friends did not need to mourn you, at least your heart still beat no matter how much you wished it didn’t sometimes.) A girl died, and you shattered.

And you gave up, put away the suit you sewed together. You’d seen people die before, saw light leave their eyes as their blood stained your scrubs. It always left you ill and tired and cold. This… This, though, was different. A girl had died while you being a hero, while you focused too much on taking down the villain rather than the civilians at risk. A girl died from an injury you could have treated, an injury you had treated a million times before. A girl died. You stopped being a hero.

Something in you shifted. You quit your job at the E.R. and moved to be closer to your twin. For a while, you did nothing, losing yourself in self-loathing and nihilism and the bottom of the bottle. It’s hard for you to piece together what all happened before a friend stumbled into your apartment for first aid, and you were too drunk to help sufficiently. And you suffocated in the realization that it was not the nightmare you assumed it to be the next morning. You failed someone. Stitches hours too late didn’t

The drinking didn’t stop. It slowed, though, and that was good enough for you. Pulling yourself together proved near impossible. Putting the pieces back together, shaping yourself back into someone that looked like the woman that once existed, proved impossible. Instead, someone jagged and sharp and alien to those who knew the woman who believe so wholly that the world could change and that people were good. No, the world was dark and cruel and unforgiving, and you could no longer pretend that it would ever be anything other than that.

You haven’t returned to London since the accident, too afraid of the disappointment you may see. Even as the homesickness settled in your bones, you stayed put in your apartment.

No matter the nausea it inspired within, no matter how much it feels dangerous to tell kids they can be heroes, you moved to the town of Paragon. Eventually, your hands itched to do something, and your return to the medical world was not spurred by a change of heart, your philosophy remained unchanged. Instead, it was a need to do something (and the hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt) that lead you back to the E.R. Yes, you could save people again. It rang hollow, however. No longer was it a passion, simply a job and a paycheck. You want to care, you want to have the burning desire to help people with your knowledge, you want to be a good doctor again. Desperately, desperately, desperately, you want to be something more than empty and aching and hollow.

TL:DR

Theora is the daughter of Steve Trevor and Diana Prince, the twin of Adrian Trevor, and the older sister of Reagan Trevor. She was always close to Steve, and while she looked up to Diana, Diana’s absence keeping from getting close.

When it comes to her siblings, she was always much closer to Adrian than she was to Reagan, which is probably a given. When Adrian was arrested, she fell apart. She trained and studied and p much refused to deal with the fact that everything felt wrong without him at her side.

She grew up in London, went to college in London, but went to NYU for med school (which ooc that’s because i don’t know how becoming a doctor works in Europe). For a few years, she entertained the thought of becoming an army doctor so she could be there if Adrian ever got hurt.

He got hurt, and she was still in med school. After, she wasn’t there for him, didn’t know how much he was struggling and doesn’t know now, but she regrets not being there for him nonetheless.

When she was twenty five, she got married, and she was smitten. The marriage ended in divorce six years later for reasons I will get to in a minute.

Her entire life, she wanted to be a hero like her mom. She was always an optimistic and idealistic woman, convinced that she could help save the world. She started being a hero when she was 27, and she was one for three years. She stopped being a hero once she got a girl killed, causing the spiral that led to the mess she is today.

She spiraled. She stopped being a hero, drank too much, and nearly lost her residency. That didn’t snap her out of it though. She finished her residency, and about a year after the accident, her wife left her, unable to she the shell of her former self that Theora became.

She wants to be better but she just doesn’t think she can be. So, she doesn’t try anymore, at least for anyone other than Adrian and sometimes Carol.

WANTED

friends from london

flings

doctor friends

neighbors

i would have just love to plot her relationship with other jl kids

[the-pontiac-bandit]

Teacher/single parent au or meeting in the E.R au for peraltiago obvs

Thanks for asking, anon!! I love these!! since we’re all in need of some peraltiago fluff this week, here ya go! 

15. Meeting in the ER AU

Dr. Amy Santiago (she’s only been able to officially use that title for six months and she’s damn proud of it) is running down the hallway, her dark ponytail swinging back and forth as her brand new white coat fans out behind her like a cape. She always thought being an ER doctor would be a bit like being a superhero, and she’s not wrong, she decides, thinking about the way she must look running through the hallway of Brooklyn Methodist Hospital – a scrubs-wearing, white-coat-caped superhero.

She’s shaken out of her reverie when she runs headlong into the glass door separating her from the ER, dropping the suture kits she had gone to fetch and losing her brand-new stethoscope. What can she say? She’s still a resident.

Furtively looking around to make sure no one noticed, Amy bends down to pick up her suture kits, dropped as her forehead hit a locked glass door at full speed. She catches a few of the older nurses tittering from the nurse’s station on the other side of the door, but she doesn’t take it personally – she remembers three days ago when those same nurses brought her coffee and a muffin during hour 13 of a particularly grueling shift.

Amy takes a deep breath, feeling her hair to make sure her ponytail is still in place and sighs, deciding it doesn’t matter anyway – she’s exhausted and she’s worked fifty hours this week and it’s only Wednesday, so this is as good as it’s gonna get. Instead, she straightens her shoulders and steels herself before taking a step back, tapping her ID against the sensor, and walking into what her new friend Rosa, a fellow emergency medicine resident, calls the “chaos-ridden-pit-of-hellfire”.

A wall of sound hits her instantly – screaming, crying, laughing, small talk, of all things, and the incessant beeping that has come to haunt her dreams on the rare occasions she actually sleeps. Despite her difficulty with hospital doors, Dr. Santiago navigates the ER like a pro, zeroing in on the patient she’s supposed to treat in an instant.

He’s probably about her age – in his mid-twenties – with disheveled hair and a sweaty red face. Red dirt covers his face and saturates his NYPD t-shirt and cargo shorts. She can see from here that gravel is stuck in his bloody knees, and that the long gash on his elbow, only partially covered by a makeshift bandage made out of someone’s tie, and the shorter cut on his right cheek are why she was told to get suture kits. His friend, a smaller man in his early thirties, looks distraught, with tear tracks staining his face. The patient, though, is laughing with the largest smile Amy’s ever seen and gently patting his friend’s back with his good arm.

She stops at the nurses’ station to grab his file before she walks over. The nurse on intake had already taken his basic medical history, which let her know that the man with a captivating smile and – unbelievably – Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sneakers is named Jacob Peralta, age 29.

She keeps reading intake notes as she walks towards the bed, expertly navigating the deluge of people rushing to various patients despite the fact that she’s nose-deep in a chart. Finally, all those years of reading while brushing her teeth and walking the hallways at school are coming in handy.

“Mr. Peralta? Hi, I’m Dr. Amy Santiago. I’m going to be taking care of you this afternoon. Would you mind telling me more about what happened? It says here you fell off a bike?” She leaves the sentence open-ended, hoping he’ll fill in more details.

“Yep! A bike! Because I’m a BMX rider – a professional, if you will,” Jacob replies, with a pointed glance at his friend.

His friend, however, is too busy looking at the needles in Amy’s hands to notice his friend. “Actually, it was roller skates. Is that medically significant? I just want to make sure Jakey’s okay. It’s our day off, and we were roller skating. I told him he needed knee pads, but he didn’t believe me because ‘John McClane wouldn’t wear knee pads’. See,” he turns back to Jacob, “this is why roller skaters get such a bad rep!”

“Yep,” Jake replies to his friend cheerfully. “That’s why everyone hates roller skaters.”

Then, he fixes his blinding grin on his doctor, whom, he notes, is quite cute, despite her disheveled hair and the mysterious stain on the bottom of her scrub top she apparently hasn’t noticed yet. There’s something about her eyes, sparkling and interested, contradicting the bags hanging under them, that hold him mesmerized.

“I’m Jake, and this is Charles. We’re two hot-shot detectives in Brooklyn’s best precinct.”

At Amy’s stern look (which maybe turns him on more than he’d like to admit), he adds, “…and there may have been roller skates involved in, well, this.” He gestures towards his various leg wounds, grimacing when he feels a twinge – he’d used his bad arm.

Amy can’t help but smile. Mr. Peralta – Jake – is absolutely ridiculous, but so far, he’s by far her favorite patient of the shift. Not that that’s any kind of real accomplishment – her previous patients included a projectile vomiter and an old man convinced he was in the middle of a jungle in Vietnam. Sane and not spewing half-digested food is a major step up. That’s it – nothing to do with the fact that his over-the-top flirting is almost as endearing as his smile.

“Well, Jake, since you just reopened that gash on your arm, we’re going to get started on that first before you bleed all over my bed.”

“Ooooh,” he says, with an eyebrow wiggle and a wink. “Am I in your bed? Dirty, Dr. Santiago! I thought we were keeping this professional! If we’re taking this to the bedroom, I should definitely get to call you Amy, though.”

She doesn’t dignify this with a response. Instead, she grabs his arm, unties the tie holding the gash shut, and goes for the antibacterial wipes. Charles, at the sight of the reopened wound, covers his mouth and heads for the waiting room, telling them hastily that he’ll go watch some Top Chef while they deal with “that monstrosity”.

He winces as she starts to dab at the cut. “Sorry, this might hurt a bit. I’ll put on some anesthetic before I stitch you up, though.”

“Oh, no big deal. I’m a detective with the NYPD. I get hurt all the time. I live for pain.” His words sound proud, but he’s clenching his teeth like he’s holding in a scream, and she can see his other fist balled around the sheets, his knuckles white, as she starts to pick gravel out of the wound.

They’ve been taught to keep patients talking – they’ve been told it distracts them from the pain. That’s definitely why Amy asks her next question. There’s no way she’s just curious about this guy. “So, then, why’d you decide to be a detective, if you get hurt so much? At least I don’t come home with any stitches at the end of the day.”

“I don’t know, Dr. Santiago. Run into that door any harder—” he nods towards the hallway she came from, “—and I’d be the one giving you stitches. Blood gushing out of your face and everything – suuper graphic. I’d probably have to write up a police report for that kind of accident.”

Amy rolls her eyes dramatically, never once wavering in her cleaning of the wound, but Jake can see the blush tinting her cheeks and the tips of her ears at the realization that he saw her run headlong into a very visible door. It’s more than a little adorable.

“Speaking of horrifically maimed, irreparable faces, then, we should probably page a plastic surgeon to deal with yours so you don’t end up with a scar,” Amy informs him, trying to get this conversation on track. She’s not supposed to find patients cute. She’s definitely not supposed to be flirting with them. Even though she maybe is. Just a little bit.

“No! Don’t do that! I need the scar – to look badass for the ladiesssss.” Jake is wiggling his eyebrows at her, contorting his face into the most ridiculous expression she’s ever seen, somehow keeping his left cheek carefully still to protect the cut while the rest of his face moves wildly. “Come on, Amy – I mean, Dr. Santiago – you know I’m at least 3,000% hotter with this scar.”

“Trust me – I’m a first year emergency medicine resident. You don’t want me anywhere near your face. And I’ll be making no comments on how attractive you are.”

“Hah! You said I’m attractive! You loooooove me!”

Amy wants to be annoyed by Jake Peralta. She really, truly does. But she can’t seem to stop talking to him. He explains why he wanted to be a detective – a fifteen minute speech involving a do-gooder attitude, the uniform, and a lot of Die Hard references. Then, they start making bets – how long will it take for her to stitch up his arm, or how many rocks will she find in his right knee. She wins three of four, much to her delight.

Her mini-victory dance in her seat is objectively adorable, Jake decides. Anyone would think so.

An hour later, she’s still by his bedside, cleaning increasingly smaller cuts and scrapes. By the time she gets to the brush burns on his palms, even she knows she’s stalling. She keeps cleaning them, though. His hands are surprisingly warm and soft, and a small part in the back of her brain wants to keep holding that hand forever, or for the rest of the afternoon, at least.

She just isn’t ready for this conversation to end. Only because the other patients are so awful today, she tells herself. Nothing to do with Jake Peralta.

Finally, though, there’s nothing left to do. So she sighs, using her heels to roll back her chair as she looks up at the man who’s now her favorite patient so far as a doctor.

“So, you’re all set. You should probably go find Charles – make sure he didn’t die while you were unable to supervise.” Jake had told her about Charles’ various mishaps somewhere around minute 43, and he made his friend sound like such a klutz Amy briefly considered sending a med student after him, just to make sure he didn’t kill himself on a scalpel somewhere.

Jake shrugs. “I’m sure he’s fine, since he hasn’t already been rushed to the emergency room. Food Network can keep him occupied for hours.”

“Well, it can go keep him occupied at home – I need my bed back.”

“Kicking me out already, Dr. Santiago? Without even a signature for my cast? I’m hurt, nay, crushed by this blatant dismissal.” He’s clearly hamming it up for her benefit, but she catches a moment of earnestness behind those adorable brown eyes.

“Those are bandages. We went over this – you’re supposed to change them when you wake up in the morning, Jake.”

“Aw, come on, Am—Dr. Santiago! This injury will be, like, 200 times cooler if a cute doctor signed my bandage!”

From any other patient, this comment would have made Amy grind her teeth and walk away. Rosa had to physically restrain her from punching a patient who called her, “Sweetheart,” last week. And yet, somehow, this is different. So she pulls the Sharpie out of her coat pocket and uncaps it.

Amy Santiago, she writes slowly, carefully avoiding putting pressure on the new stitches while she signs her name in her perfect script. He starts to comment on how slow her signature is, and she can hear him counting the seconds, but she’s focused on something else.

A pause, as she chews her lip, debating.

Then, below her name, she adds her number. Jake waits patiently for her to finish before fist-pumping and whooping, imitating her victory dance from their third bet.

“Okay, dork, but you’re still gonna have to change that in 12 hours.”

“Don’t worry – I’ll have used this loooooong before then.”

[sugirandom]

365 days of writing: day 259

Day 259: Goodbye party

      Good afternoon, a little head’s up that this entry might be a tad long so it’s not a quick read but feel free to keep reading anyway.  Yesterday was my last day of work so at lunchtime my boss bought me some Chinese food for lunch. He also paid for half of the meals for my coworkers and we all sat together to eat and joke around once the food came. My boss had to rush off to a board meeting about an hour after we were done meeting so when he offered me a certificate of appreciation it was a little rushed but he shook my hand and thanked me for everything. My stepdad also handed me a card that everyone at the office wrote little messages on. I was pretty touched and if they had fussed too much more I’m sure I would’ve gotten emotional but i managed to keep calm. I did make sure to thank everyone and they all wished me well. The only negative thing that happened at work was a spat between two of the secretaries that erupted so badly that the deputy director was unable to mediate a solution for them and my boss had to talk to them both via the office phone. They had the door closed so I couldn’t hear what was said but I could hear a bit of the argument since it got a little loud.

        This morning mom and stepdad took me to my last followup with my chest surgeon. The ride there was pretty bumpy and I think mom’s manic depression is getting worse. She had no problem sharing with me how much she’s been crying over the fact that I’m leaving and that she’s going to the doctor to get her medicine adjusted at the same time as telling me not to feel upset or guilty, that she just wants to let me know. The rest of the way there she pretty much talked the whole time and at one point was imitating tire screeching noises when my stepdad made sharp turns and had started slapping her knees until he took her hand and told her to stop. She was falling apart the last time I went to Japan but I think this time she’s letting it get to her a little too much. I guess in her current state of health she doesn’t have the mental power to fight it. She even missed her hair appointment thinking it was next week (she also thought my appointment was next week until yesterday) so I’m not going to lie when I say I’m a bit concerned but really there’s nothing I can do about it.

   My appointment went well, my surgeon was so happy to see that a lot of my scar is barely visible and was making a big fuss over me. She wanted to get rid of an area that’s swelled but since she said it might go away on it’s own and I’m going to Japan in two weeks and wouldn’t be able to come in if the shot she gives me affects me badly I decided to decline her offer to give me one today. She agreed that that was the best course of action and said I can come in once I’m back from Japan if it’s bothering me by then. We went to lunch after my doctor’s appointment and then my parents took me home. When I first got home I took a shower and then played Sims 4 for a little bit. Heath finally achieved his aspiration by maxing out his logic skill and it’s about time considering my game alerted me to the fact that his time is almost up. I got Jewel up to her toddlerhood and my prediction turned out to be correct, she has black hair so I guess Ian is the last in his family to have red hair unless I manage to get to the next generation before I go and it appears again but I highly doubt both of those things. Anyway, things got a little crazy with Jewel as a toddler because she’s a fussy one and for whatever reason the sims don’t always listen to my commands so when I try to get them to take care of her they get distracted or rather just feed themselves while the game alerts me that Jewel is starving and threatens to take her away. It’s a lot of hard work for me and I think part of the reason it’s so tough is that there are 5 family members and they tend to get in each other’s way a lot of times. Whitney has been lending a hand with Jewel when Heath and Clara get too stressed. I ended with only four days left till Jewel becomes a toddler so hopefully the struggle will end soon. I still don’t know who brought toddlers back to Sims 4, I don’t care if it’s unnatural I didn’t miss toddlers at all.

   Anyway, I finally got back to Dragon Ball Z and watched episodes 51 and 52. I think they got too rushed with drawing Vegeta in these episodes and I was so sad because I praised them for how he looked in 50 (other than his nose, as I mentioned earlier). Oh well, anyway I found out the Namekian kid with them is named Dende but I had a feeling it was him, I think I saw him before in a fancomic. It was good to see Kaio again in episode 52 and Piccolo’s unintentional pun was the best part of the episode in all honesty. I’ll even forgive the part that there’s inconsistency with the dialogue between episode 51′s end and episode 52. They literally end up having the same conversation with Goku twice, and not in the recap, so I guess someone forgot that Yamcha already spoke to Goku at the end of episode 51 and unintentionally redid the conversation...I...pick your favorite version of it I guess? It actually is part of the watching experience for me so it’s all good.

     I watched episode 8 of Kakegurui and it was pretty enjoyable. This episode managed to be less sexually provocative at least and it seemed to be making a commentary on popular JPOP idols and Youtube at the same time so I actually appreciate that quite a bit. I haven’t seen an Anime mention Youtube yet (don’t worry it was “Yourtube”) so it was fun for me. I guess at this point I’m going to briefly check into Glenn’s RP blog and then I have to log out to cook some dinner. We got Chicken Katsu in our meals this week but since Poppy’s not here I have to make it alone. I might play more Sims 4 tonight but I’m not entirely sure yet. At some point I need to look at my new external drive and figure out what I have to put on it from my PC but I don’t think I feel up to that tonight. I also one day...might get back to writing some of my stories but IDK when...eventually I guess. I’ll try to at least write something related to them at some point and now that I have my files back I can recover what I thought would be lost of my notes.

[fereality-indy]

What Ifs

What if…? These two words, this phrase, have dominated my life for as long as I’ve been cognitive. When I was younger it was ‘what if this movie/cartoon was real?’ or ‘what if I add this cheese to my scrambled eggs this morning?’ or ‘what if Flair fought Hogan?’ or something like that, As I got older (grade school age) the ‘what if’s…?’ began to include me & my decisions more and more, I began to get into things like ‘what if I didn’t pass that test?’, ‘what if I wasn’t such a nerd?’(major self-esteem issues back then), or even ‘what if my mom & step dad hadn’t been introduced?’. Most of these were still just ponderings and an occasional day dream until around fourth or fifth grade and that was when I had the first of what I call the ‘Dream Walks’ (and no they have nothing to do with the Australian or Native American coming of age ceremonies) where I had a nearly full conscious and totally recalled dream that lasted my full 8 hours or so of REM sleep where I seemingly lived out my life after I had fallen asleep wondering ‘what if I had not passed my tests to get into the Academically Talented program?’ (I tested with an IQ in the 160/170’s in the second grade) that had kept me in my grade school at that time with most of my family and friends. In the dream I ended up not passing and despite the doctors feeling I was smart they just didn’t feel I was AT program material so they sent me a different school where I ended up being an even bigger social outcast and the target of bullies till I ended up becoming a sycophant and working for a group of punks and finally ruining my life. The dream was so vivid and was also one of the first times I that experienced receiving an injury in a dream and waking to find a bruise or scar in the location of the injury. I woke that morning with a mild bruise across my stomach where I had been hit by a baseball bat in my dream just prior to my awaking. By the time I was in junior high Marvel’s “What If?” comics were among my favorite comics and the ‘Dream Walks’ were happening almost every other month and I was even starting to show up/recall the dreams of some of my close friends (most of which were ones where they were dreaming what if scenarios or having nightmares where I showed up and helped them somehow). My ‘what ifs’ were becoming even more frequent and both personal and societal along the lines of ‘what if my father had not married his second wife?’ or ‘what if we (the USA) had not gotten involved in the middle eastern conflicts that were going on at the time?’ (at the time I was still thinking of a military career and these conflicts along with family/friends who had served during Vietnam steadily changed my mind). By high school I had dropped my math/science major (mostly because at the time they weren’t presenting me with any challenge and I was beginning to wonder if my Dream Walks & ‘what ifs?’ weren’t just a way for my subconscious to come up with new ways to stimulate me. Trying to consciously challenge myself I dropped the Math/Sci magnet like I said and I went into studying Foreign Languages, Russian to be precise. It was a poor choice on my part to say the least. The Russian classes were all taught together (no matter what your skill/grade level) and all four years of the program's social studies was taught by one teacher who for some reason took an instant dislike for me. On the other hand I was passing nearly all my other classes with flying colors (ok yeah I struggled some in gym, but only some). I was also blossoming more socially in high school than I ever did in other school levels (example: in 5th grade a classmate wrote some “Nightmare on Elm St” fan fiction with our class cast in several different roles, most of the class were the terrified students Freddy chases/kills and they had big parts/lot of lines. Me, I was a teacher with one whole line about me and I’m not sure I even talked), but by the second week in high school I had friends in nearly every clique/social group. I didn’t get any of the hazing done to me that I saw other freshman take, and heck before that first winter I even had a girlfriend. When I was younger I started a focused meditation because of a hair trigger anger issue and really started wondering if the ‘Dream Walks” and the ‘What Ifs?’ were through because of the combination, but then as I started getting bored in school again they started up again. “What if my nephew and another friend hadn’t been able to pull me off the friend’s brother as I had snapped and had had him in what I now know as a ‘rear naked choke hold’?” and “What if the vice principal hadn’t been lenient when I shattered a friends glasses?” (I had walked up to a group of friends when one of them had jokingly pulled my girlfriend [now ex wife] onto his lap, I walked up to him and jokingly swung a slap at him that would’ve been softer than if a pillow had hit him, this was the way it was described by nearly everyone seated there including him, but as my hand got about an inch & or so away from his face my wrist snapped and so did his face and his glasses flew from him shattering into about 8 pieces before they hit the ground. Needless to say no one really messed with me after seeing/hearing about that. Some of the rumors floating around after that were funny. My favorite was that I was some gang enforcer hiding out at the school cause I had squealed on someone. :-/), were the two most prominent ones I remember from this period. In the first dream the assault resulted in me being convicted of accidental manslaughter after losing out on my self-defense plea because the ‘gun’ he had chased me with had turned out to be a broken air pistol, the incident this dream was about had happened in in grade school or early in JR high and all of us were friends again within a couple of weeks. The second dream had me being suspended and eventually expelled forcing me to enroll in another school to finish out my high school years making me leave nearly all my friends and causing me to lose the most important person in my life at that point. It was also during this period I had gotten the most prominent of my dream wounds, in the dream I was fighting someone (trying to keep a good friend safe) when the guy pulled out a knife. I had had blocked/dodged a few of his swings when he lunged at me with a forward stab, foolishly I had attempted to grad his wrist when instead I ended up grabbing the blade and it sliced my palm. The force of my grab caused him to lose hold of the blade and finally he fled saying “that silver knife shoulda done more?”. As I turned to check on my friend the pain from my hand blindly flashed and I woke up with a scar on my left hand that crosses my lower lifeline and ends near the middle of my palm. By the end of high school I had a few more that had rolled around “What if I hadn’t need the tonsillectomy that had caused me to flunk out of the Foreign Language magnet?”, “What if I hadn’t broken up with my ex wife at the end of sophomore year?”, “What if I hadn’t broken up with my psycho ex to get back with my future ex wife after the kiss/smack incident?” (we had separated after sophomore year and a friend's girlfriend set me up on a blind date with a girl who was crazier than . Quarter/half way through Junior year she and I started really talking as friends again and by that spring she came over one weekend and helped me paint our front fence, we started joking around and I realized how much I still cared for her. She did/said something smart-assed and I replied to it ‘I don’t know whether the kiss ya or smack ya?’ and she replied ‘Well which is it?’ to which I pulled her into a kiss. Within a week or so we were back together.) Most of these had sorta negative scenes with the worst being not having a relationship with my ex wife and the boys not being born. After high school I focused on trying to go to college, helping raise my son, and continued to work at a local grocery store. After a little while I was having trouble trying to do all three so I dropped school so I could focus on work and the little one. This is a regret I still have through today. I should have stayed with the schooling and forgotten about grocery store . Shortly before I quit school we had gotten a new store manager, shortly after I quit school he found out a couple of my coworkers were sleeping with a third coworker (she had a fiancé, and finally she decided she was through ‘playing with them’, her words not mine) and they lost their jobs (official reason was they were supposedly taking money from one of the tills and wrapping it up as meat, but they both worked in the meat department and had no access to any of the registers. There were no charges filed and no arrests against them, but she kept her job and had no problems as she was the manager’s ‘God-daughter’.) You may be asking how did this affect me, well I was good friends with all three of them and knew what was really was going on, so the manager tried to trump up some lame charge that I was ‘seen’ shoplifting. The previous manager had been trying to talk me into training to become one of the overnight assistant managers as I was one of his most trusted cashiers, so if there had been any problems with me they would’ve never been offering to train me for that position. This soured me on work and work place politics for a long while. After all this, there were a few other issues that came but mostly these were few and far between. I started working at a Masonic Lodge as a caretaker, we got married, I got my first job at Walmart, left there to work for the state, my second son was born and life became even busier. The greatest ‘Dream Walk’/‘What if?’ that came up around this time was “What if I had asked my other choice out that day?”. You see leading up to the day my ex wife & I started going out I had been going back and forth in my mind as to who I was going to ask out, my ex wife or another friend of ours named my other friend. I ran into my ex wife as I was heading to a class and before she walked into her class we both asked each other out. But in this dream I ran into my other friend first that day and ended up asking her out first, we ended up staying together all through high school and my ex wife ended up dating the guy who my other friend dated in the real world. In this dream world my other friend and I ended up dating for a year or so after high school before things ended and sometime after that I ran into my ex wife at a store of some type and we hit it off and started dating. By the time we had started having our problems the ‘What Ifs?’ and the ‘Dream Walks’ had started coming back stronger than ever. I’d share some of these but unfortunately a lot of the ‘What Ifs?’ and ‘Dream Walks’ were some of the first memories I seemed to have lost when I began having the seizures. I only remember a very few of them from the time the ex and I separated until our divorce (nearly 5- 6 years as I wanted to make sure she had insurance at first and then we had to wait till we could afford it) and I really don’t like most of the ones I do remember because they show a side of me I really haven’t seen since I was young and first started meditating; they showed a selfish, mean, angry, and downright nasty version of myself. In one I had went to a party at a female friend (and crush’s) house and while in real life I had stayed with her after she had gotten drunk, to keep a few idiots at the party from taking advantage of her, which she later thanked me for, in the dream I stayed with her but I was the one who hooked up with her and while she wasn’t upset with me it did end up ruining our friendship as she could no longer trust me. I also had one where I had finally let my guard down and lost control of my anger. I ended up killing someone in the dream and I liked the feeling so much I ended up becoming a serial killer. I somewhat blame that one on fact that shortly before the dream I saw a news report about a guy who ended up killing his wife/fiancé/girlfriend in a fit of rage and stuffed her body in a deep freezer, as I watched it I realized he was the same guy who protected me from bullies in grade school and who was one of the biggest helpers with me learning to control my anger back then. That really knocked me for a loop. Now-a-days, I deal with my ‘What Ifs?’ as they come and they still weigh heavily on me as I ponder whether they are just flights of fancy or if I’m actually glimpsing into other universes/realities where I seem to somehow be a unifying thread.

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Tiny Steps

Chapters: 27/45 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Pro!Snape Series: Part 2 of 9. Summary: Part two of the Alchemy Series.  Politics. Either you love it, hate it or you live it. For Alchemy Teacher Edward Elric, he lives it, hates it and loves it when he gets the upper hand. Here is to another year of hell… D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

"When are we going to inform Colonel Elric…?"

"Should we even inform him?"

"His fiancé is currently in the middle of this havoc. He must be informed of what is happening right now."

"Mustang? You've been quiet."

"What do they want?"

"Excuse me?"

"Drachma? What do they want?"

"They are belligerent. All they want is to prove they are better than us. Our sources told us they assumed we are in easy targets due to Grumman leading us."

"Should we make them rethink of their thoughts on us?"

"We are moving away from a Militaristic government. Bloodshed will not be the only solution we have for everything."

"Major General Armstrong informed us they are in the defense. Drachma threatened if an Amestrian even stepped on their land, they will declare a full out war."

"They already claimed several lives of our own!"

"They claim that the soldiers that are currently attacking Briggs are militia-deserters. They state they are not supporting them, but we have reason to believe that is not the case."

"…We could play along with the deserter angle. If they are claiming they are no longer part of their commands…"

-.-

"33 seconds… two seconds longer than the last time we tried this…" Severus rubbed his temples after trying to use legilimency on Edward. The first half of that time was trying to get through Edward's defenses. Even after getting through that barrier, he encountered… what looks like a mixture of a grassy field and a dry desert. The further he attempts to get into the memories, a white figure appeared and kicked him out.

"Any update?" Edward asked his friend, quirking up an eyebrow at Severus's current condition. "Did you find anything?"

"That's assuming if I even had an idea what would an update would be?" Severus gritted his teeth when he felt a wave of nausea hit him full on from out of nowhere. "Bloody hell…"

Edward quickly stood up and kept Severus steady as the Potion's Master gagged into a pail. "What did you see in there?"

"I managed to get through your primary defenses… I ended up in a grassy field crossed with a desert." Severus wiped his mouth with a rag, he allowed Edward to help him towards his potion's storage. Edward opened the storage room and pulled out whatever ingredients Severus listed of for him.

"Did something kick you out?"

"…Yes…"

"You're on the right and wrong path. You met my Truth. You are in the right path into my mind, but you took a bad turn to it."

"I am not even going to ask…"

-.-

"Marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me!"

Mei hid her smile behind her cup of tea, watching Ling swing Lan Fan around the room. The council, elders from all fifty clans and the Emperor himself agreed to new marriage laws, along with several stipulations. One of those stipulations would be that Xing become strictly monogenous. This mainly has to do with protecting daughters, nieces, granddaughters, and many others from being forced into a marriage or partnership they do not have a say in. There are still rules on who they can and cannot marry, but at least for now the rules at not as demanding as before. For this to fully pass, all heirs of each clan future heirs are all future possible candidates to become the next ruler of Xing.

With Ling announcing that he may not be able to produce heirs, everyone scrambled onto the proposal of each clan having each produce their own heir. This made them turn a blind eye to the Emperor constantly trying to 'properly' court his head of guard. No matter how many women that are thrown his way, he keeps his gaze over his shoulder to keep track of his shadow.

Romantic?

Sure.

Is it idealistic in their world?

No.

In their own circumstance, they are making it work to their best to make it work.

"My…My lord! Let go!"

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me by my name. You haven't had that issue last night."

"!!!!"

"Lan Fan? Lan Fan!"

"Why did I ever agree to be your chaperone?" Mei shook her head at seeing that Lan Fan passed out and her half-brother trying to wake her up.

-.-

Alphonse scanned through the documents, letters and other items while writing down notes on important details. Documents that had to do with his work for Xing's new school, his duties of being an ambassador, and so on. Letters to his friends, acquaintances and other parties, reasons, to check on them, ensure they are kept in order and to see if they have any information he could possible use. The other items, are heavily coded items that required him to decode and figure out what he needed to know about everything that was sent to him.

So far…

New marriage laws passed in Xing. (That's good, for everyone around.)

Ling officially proposed to Lan Fan. (Thank Truth.)

Roy is planning to propose to Riza. (Here the Elric thought, that it would have been the other way around)

Certain people are still locked up. (Have to make sure those conspirators are locked up and kept quiet.)

Others are being humiliated for other's amusement. (He'll have to visit the traveling Circus again to ensure to leave a message.)

Paninya is apparently becoming an automail model. (Still have to subscribe Lan Fan to Today's Schematics.)

Havoc's family business is doing well. (Last heard that the Armstrong's are investing in the business.)

Marcoh enjoys his work in rebuilding Ishval along with Scar. (The doctor went on to say how no matter how many times Scar attempts to change his name, everyone prefers to dub the Ishvalan Warrior Monk as Scar.)

Scar is getting annoyed at being called by his former name. (His birth name isn't any better than the new name.)

Drachma is trying to convince Amestris to start a war…

Alphonse paused, he picked up the documents and letters that had to do with the latest decoded message. Oh, this is not good. Not good at all. Especially since Winry is in the middle of this mess and Edward has no clue about it.

Edward will become enraged for being kept in the dark. Winry never mentioned anything from what he read in the letters, Roy being Roy, and so on. Considering with the elder Elric Brother's health complication recently, telling him would go one or two ways. Well, many ways and not all good.

Now the problem Alphonse has is that, officially, this is not his problem. His primary focus is dealing with the Magical Great Britain for Xing, and dealing with the later for Amestris. That is where his focus should stay focus in. Even so, a possible future war in his home country and close proximity of his love one and close friends.

The only one that has everything to do with this is Edward, due to his connection to the Military and his rank. People 'know' of his status and huge part on the Promise Day, they would want the people's hero to lead them on.

Now to tell his brother of what is happening so near to his fiancé.

-.-

"I find it strange they mainly keep their attacks at the North Area, and not at all in the West Area."

"Hm… From what we've gathered throughout the years, it's always North. Ever since the creation of Ironhaven, that's when the attacks started."

"Ironhaven?"

"A small village that houses the families of the soldiers of the area. It is noted that is the focal point of the fighting."

"Do you have all the files on the attacks?"

"I'll have Private Sheska Trail to write down the reports for you."

"They were destroyed?"

"Yes."

"Then how…?"

"The Private made a list of everything she ever read and will fully write whatever report when ask. This ends up being one of them."

"Why didn't anyone tell me of this? Did she ever read any of my reports? Please tell me she did, I don't want to rewrite those reports."

-.-

The moment Edward saw his brother sitting with Severus, Filius, and Pomona in his room, all of them looked like they are ready to comfort or restrain him for whatever possible reason. Severus is learning near the fireplace, both hands hidden in his long sleeves. Filius sitting near the main entrance, fidgety. Pomona is by the other entrance of the room, holding huge potted plant that looked awfully familiar. Alphonse stood up from his desk and walked towards his brother.

Edward wanted to make a run for it when he saw all of them had earmuffs hung around their necks. "What is going on?"

"Don't freak. I have news, that may freak you out."

"Then what the truth are you tell me that? Why are they here?"

"It's for your and my own safety."

Edward took a deep breath through his mouth and let it out through his nose. "What is going on? Did something back home? Is everything alright…? Did anything happen to Winry?"

Panic filled within Edward, if anything were to happen to Winry and he'll never forgive himself. Thinking about it, she's currently situated at Briggs… where they are dealing with Drachma trying to invade them… constantly… Her letters seem to be far too chipper than the usual and are written as if something is not being told. The only reason Alphonse will need backup to tell him anything if the news is huge and will absolutely result in chaos. "Is this about Winry? Is she alright? Dammit Al! What are you keeping from me!"

"Briggs is dealing with Drachma…" Alphonse drawled out, he kept rubbing his hands together and shifting his eyes everywhere. "Amestris and Drachma are currently…"

"For bloody sake, your fiancé is caught in between a war between both countries. She's been kept quiet to ensure you do… Filius."

"Stupefy."

-.-

"I don't care what it cost us! We need to regain what we lost so many years ago from them!"

"By starting a war? We both know if we enter Amestris now, Xing and even Creta will be on their side. And they hate Amestris just as much as we do!"

"I do not care for that. They took very valuable items when that pact was created. They give back what they took… we call it even."

"This again? How many times do we have to tell you. There's still a possibility they haven't found it…"

"Possibly… yet. I am not going to leave it to a possibility."

[gyrlversion]

73 Catholic School pupils burned in Ash Wednesday service

Parents have been left outraged after 73 pupils and 16 staff suffered chemical burns while having ash crosses smudged onto their foreheads during an Ash Wednesday assembly.

At least two children from St Augustine’s Catholic High School in Redditch, Worcestershire, were taken to hospital following the religious event.

Parents said the ritual was performed by a priest and two older children and was stopped half way through when people complained of ‘tingling’.

Chairo Rowe, 14, and his mother Cassena Brown, 39, who was ‘furious’ when she saw the chemical burn left by the ash which had been smeared across her son’s forehead

Chairo was taken to hospital and it is likely that the schoolboy will be scarred from the wound. Some 72 other pupils at St Augustine’s Catholic High School were also burned by the ash

One concerned grandparent said children were burned – and parents are now considering legal action against the school.

A parent who took her son to hospital for treatment said medics told her it was a chemical burn that would likely leave a scar.

Traditionally the ash for the ceremony comes from leaves burned in last year’s Palm Sunday services.

The Ash Wednesday ceremony  

Ash Wednesday is a Christian holy day of fasting that falls on the first day of Lent. 

A priest places ashes on a believer’s head while reciting the dictum ‘Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return’ or ‘repent, and believe in the Gospel’.  

Traditionally the ash for the ceremony comes from leaves burned in last year’s Palm Sunday services. 

It comes from the ancient practice of fasting and it is generally considered bad taste to dine out, to shop, or to go about in public after receiving the ashes in the service. 

It is not required that a person wear the ashes for the rest of the day, and they may be washed off after Mass. 

However, many people leave the ashes on their forehead until the evening.

But a grandparent said ‘toxic’ ones had been used this time.

Cassena Brown, 39, said her son Chairo Rowe, 14, was badly burned in the ceremony, had to be taken to hospital and has been off school for two days.

She said: ‘I am absolutely furious. They started with the year nine and it was the priest and two sixth form children – a boy and a girl.

‘That’s the first thing that confused me when I heard about it. Why are children doing it to other children?

‘After a while some of the children said that it had started to burn. Some of the teachers said it did as well. Some of them rubbed it off straight away, but some left it on.’

Mrs Brown said when children complained of burning after leaving the ash on some were given wet wipes.

‘But when some of the kids wiped it off, it ripped the skin off as well,’ she said.

‘It was red raw. They should have been sent to a medical professional, not given a perfumed wet wipe.’

The delivery driver said all parents were sent a text message saying some children had been left with an ‘irritation’ after the Ash Wednesday assembly.

The mother said the message explained that the parents of the most severely affected children would get a call – which she did – so came to pick up her son early.

‘I saw other children walking out with their parents, with red marks – like a heat rash almost – on their foreheads,’ she said.

‘But when I saw my son I was gobsmacked.

‘My son was the worst of everyone. Because he is of Afro-Caribbean heritage you can see the burn very clearly, as the skin is burned and it’s white underneath.’

She said doctors at Alexandra Hospital said it was a chemical burn and recommended keeping the wound clean with cold water.

Cassena Brown, mother of Chairo (left before wound and right after ceremony) said she was furious when she learned that students had the ash smeared on their heads by fellow pupils

At least two children from St Augustine’s Catholic High School in Redditch, Worcestershire, (seen in an undated file photo) were taken to hospital following the religious event

‘It continued to burn throughout the night,’ she said. ‘It was red hot. He won’t go to school.

‘He’s embarrassed. Last week he had girls at school saying he was cute, now he has a burn on his face.’

A grandfather of another burned child said: ‘They are anointed with a cross on the forehead. The medium used was a mixture of palm oil and ash from burned leaves.

‘They must have picked a toxic leaf as the results in most cases were burns on the forehead resulting in hospital admissions for many children. The parents are contemplating legal action.’

An example of a Catholic having ash applied to his forehead during a service in Brazil on Wednesday (stock image)

The Christian Ash Wednesday ritual involves receiving a mark of ashes on the forehead as a token of penitence and mortality.

Parents at the school gates today said some burned children were sent home.

One father, who has a daughter at the school, said: ‘I think it was basically the first year students in school who were affected. It’s terrible really.’

A mother said: ‘A load of the kids had to go home after they got burned.’

Another added: ‘My daughter said something had happened and some kids got burned on the forehead.

‘We are not Catholic so my daughter would not have taken part.’

St Augustine’s Catholic High School said the ash was provided by a priest from the Diocese of Birmingham, which sourced it from a company in Aldridge. 

The school has confirmed a total of 90 people – 73 students, 16 staff and the chair of the governors – were burned in the Ash Wednesday service. 

The school sent a message to the students’ parents explaining the injuries sustained during their Ash Wednesday service

A school spokesman said: ‘During the Ash Wednesday service for Year 9 and Year 11 students, it came to our attention that discomfort was experienced by some students that had received the ashes on the forehead.

‘As a result, all students were requested to wash the ashes off immediately to ensure no further discomfort was felt.

‘Any further distribution of ashes immediately ceased. The school is dismayed by this event.

‘In total, 73 students, 16 staff and the Chair of the Governors have been affected to date.

‘Those impacted were administered on site by trained First Aiders and then advised to seek further medical attention.

‘An investigation has started and the ashes are being analysed by external experts.

‘A subsequent report will be made available to all stakeholders and any recommendations will be actioned accordingly.

‘Saint Augustine’s Catholic High School treats students’ health and safety as paramount.’ 

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