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compassionatereminders · 4 years ago

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Dealing With Executive Dysfunction - A Summary

(The full post with elaborate explanations can be found here.)

Being a responsible adult doesn’t have to mean doing things perfectly - it means doing what you realistically can. Can’t eat 7 fresh veggies and fruits a day? Buy some veggie juice or a smoothie and chug that. Can’t make a proper, healthy meal? Add some extra protein to your instant noodles. Can’t do the dishes? Buy some paper plates. Don’t worry about doing things “the right way”, just do what works.

It’s not cheating to do something the easy way. If there’s an easy or more manageable solution available, use it. Even if some people think it’s lazy. Don’t worry about that. Just focus on finding the methods of doing things which make life easier for you.

Fuck what you’re “supposed” to do. Yes, ideally you shouldn’t run the dishwasher twice, but if cleansing the dishes by hand is not an option and that’s the only way you can get clean dishes, do it anyways! When you’re in a really bad place mentally, fuck the rules. Do what you need to do to get shit done, even if it’s not how you’re supposed to do it.

Do stuff while you’re waiting to do other stuff. We spend a lot of time waiting, so spend the time you’d normally just waste getting some chores done. Collect the trash while your roommate is in the bathroom or wipe down the kitchen counters while you’re making coffee. You can even turn it into a game! How many dishes can you clean before the potatoes are boiling? How much trash can you collect and throw out before your load of laundry is done?

You don’t have to do everything at once. Don’t wait for the day where you’re up for cleaning the entire house cause then you’ll be waiting for ages. You can wipe down one counter and call it a day. You can put away a couple things and leave the rest. You can do one small chore and let that be it. You don’t have to choose between doing everything and doing nothing. Any progress is worthwhile.

Let go of the idea that something has to become a permanent habit to have any value. Doing a certain sport for a month is still healthy even if you then move on to something else. Exploring a new hobby for a while and then moving on to other stuff will always teach you something. What’s good for you today will not necessarily be what’s good for you tomorrow.

Don’t worry about the entire task. Just focus on the first step. Don’t worry about brushing your teeth - just get your toothbrush wet and put tooth paste on it. Don’t worry about writing the essay - just look at the assignment and open a document. Don’t worry about going to the store - just put on your coat and your shoes. Starting a task is a lot easier if you only focus on the step right in front of you.

Imagine that your body is a pet/animal you have to care for. Feed and hydrate yourself, keep yourself and your environment clean, make sure you don’t get under or overstimulated, allow yourself time to rest and relax, find ways to enrich your life (like socializing, media or hobbies) - and do your best to make sure you’re healthy and happy, even though you never actually signed up for being your own zookeeper.

Just because you can’t do it perfectly doesn’t mean you should stop trying. Packing lunch a couple times a week is better than never packing lunches. Journaling or making art once a month is better than never doing anything creative. Exercising every once in a while when you have the energy is better than never exercising. You don’t have to do something every single day for it to be important and helpful.

Put on a professional persona when it’s necessary. Try to separate the anxious and dysfunctional you from the Student You who’s sending that important email or the Client You who’s making that phone call or the Customer You who isn’t afraid to ask for help. It might feel like you’re performing a role, but to be honest, most of us do at times.

When you’re doing chores, act like you’re filming a tutorial. Narrate what you’re doing like someone’s watching. That might make it easier to maintain focus and to keep track of the various steps.

You don’t have to do anything perfectly. Wiping yourself off with some baby wipes beats not doing anything about your personal hygiene. Eating a protein bar beats not eating. Using mouthwash beats neglecting dental hygiene completely. Going for a quick walk beats not moving. It doesn’t have to be perfect to count and make a difference.

Make something you know you have to do the trigger for you to start doing something else. Tell yourself “next time I get up to pee I’ll take out the trash” or “when I get up to get something to drink next I’ll make lunch.” If you HAVE to get up anyways, you might as well.

Assign yourself a deadline. Tell yourself “once this video is over, I’ll do the dishes” or “once this alarm rings, I’ll do my laundry.”

If you struggle to be compassionate towards yourself, try visualizing your future self as a separate person who you like and want to do favors for. Try to think of your future self as a friend who is separate from your current self and do what you can to make their life easier by doing things like preparing that lunch, doing those chores, taking that shower or making fun plans. I know they’ll be grateful.

Make putting stuff back where it belongs so easy that you “might as well.” Organize your home so that placing stuff where it belongs becomes so easy that you might as well just place it there. For many people that means several laundry baskets, many trash cans and easily accessible and very visible storage options. So if you keep finding things in annoying places, make sure they get an easily accessible home!

Look into why you can’t do something. Is something about the chores you’re struggling to do actually causing you sensory distress and is there something you can do to make it more comfortable? If you hate mint toothpaste, get one that tastes like bubble gum. If old food grosses you out, do the dishes with thick gloves on. If showering makes you feel bad about your body, shower with the lights off. The problem isn’t always about self discipline, and in those cases it’s worth looking into why you’re struggling so much to get certain chores done.

Take care of yourself in order to take care of others ( whether pets or people.) Outside motivation is necessary for many people who struggle with executive dysfunction. For many people getting out of bed is easier when you know someone else is relying on you being somewhat functional. So don’t be afraid to find the motivation to take care of yourself in wanting to take care of others.

Make keeping your place clean as easy as possible. Make sure there’s easy one step access to the things you need often. Make sure that the place where a thing is supposed to be is actually within reach of where you use the thing. Make sure everything has a an easily accessible place to go, even if that means several laundry baskets and several trash cans. Examine what’s messing up your place and find a home for it where you’re likely to actually place it on a regular basis.

Choose one very specific thing to work on - like the bathroom sink or the oven or your desk. If you suffer from executive dysfunction you’ll likely be distracted, but having one specific focus point you can keep returning to will mean that in between getting distracted, you can return to your chosen project and get some shit done.

When something feels overwhelming, tell yourself to “just show up” and that you “won’t have to stay the whole time if it’s horrible.” Cause odds are that once you’ve pushed past your initial mental block, you’re likely to stay and finish what you started.

If you really can’t do something, accept your limits and find a different method. Don’t keep trying to push through via willpower alone. If you need outside accountability to get your shit done, find someone who can hold you accountable. If you know you can’t remember the stuff you’re supposed to remember, make sure to always write things down. If you keep forgetting your meds, set a daily alarm. Don’t keep expecting yourself to be able to do things you always struggle with.

Make your chores into a game. Assign certain chores certain points and make a list of fun rewards you can have once you’ve earned a certain amount of points through doing chores.

If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing poorly. Any amount of effort is better than none, so on days where you can’t do something well, do it anyways! Any amount of progress beats not getting started.

Find a momentum and use it to do that thing you’ve been struggling to start doing. You can’t get yourself together to shower? Well, find something you CAN do - and once you’re already doing something, you might be able to channel said energy into showering.

Take it one step at a time. I know a shower sounds overwhelming, but can you take your clothes off? If yes, can you turn on the shower? If yes, can you stand under the stream? Look who just tricked themselves into doing the thing by breaking it down into manageable chunks!

Don’t just break a task into smaller steps - break it into steps so small you can’t possible get overwhelmed and fuck up. “Clean my room” is far too vague - but “set a timer and collect all the trash you can in 10 minutes” is actually manageable and so is “move all dirty dishes to the kitchen” or “remove and/or sort all clothes laying on the floor.”

Don’t worry about how most people do things - worry about what works for YOU. You constantly lose your key? Make ten copies. You overlook your post it notes? Put something with the important reminder on it in front of the door. Got laundry and trash all over the floor? Get more laundry baskets/trash cans. Coping with executive dysfunction is not about learning to do things the neurotypical way, it’s about finding strategies which actually work for you.

When you’re overwhelmed and struggling, find the easiest and fastest way to get rid of some of the distress. Eat if you’re hungry, sleep if you’re tired, pee if you have to, get that thing you’ve been postponing done if you can. The more stressors you can remove, the better - and it’s okay to start with the smaller ones!

Don’t worry about aesthetics. When you struggle with executive dysfunction, maintaining a picture perfect home is probably unrealistic. So drop that dream and focus on making your space practical and functional. Remove the doors of your kitchen cabinets and closets if that will actually make you put stuff away. Get a paper shredder and a mail sorting station if you got mail and advertisements everywhere. Buy all your socks in one color if you struggle to pair them. There are many ways to make your environment more functional. Explore them instead of just trying and failing to make your home look nice.

Get started on your next task before you take your break. Write that first sentence, make that first sketch, get the vacuum cleaner out of the closet or collect the dishes for washing and THEN have your break. Many people with executive dysfunction struggle to start tasks, so for most of us it’s easier to continue something we’ve already started working on than to begin from scratch.

#kat gets serious #coping #executive dysfunction #disability #mental illness #self care #recovery

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tuiccim · 4 years ago

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Almost Had Me Believing It - Part 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: Angst, Discussion of drug addiction, mutual pining

Summary: An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes’ wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.

A/N: This began as a drunk drabble for the HBC @the-ss-horniest-book-club but the response has been overwhelming! I had originally intended to make a two parter but your enthusiasm for the setting has gotten my creative juices flowing and the story is coming together to be multiple parts. It will definitely be at least five. / Divider by @whimsicalrogers

Almost Had Me Believing It Series Masterlist

You sit up in disbelief, “Bucky!” But he closes the door.

Bucky immediately turns on the shower. He has to get some relief after the show you just put on. Good God, you were sweet. You had kissed him back as if you meant it and your body had cradled him like you were made to fit together. His cock was so hard it was painful. He was sure you had felt it as he had rutted against you. He was ashamed of his actions. When you had moaned he had nearly lost it. He knew you were only putting a show on for Frank, but he couldn’t keep himself from taking advantage and now he feels like the asshole he knows he is. Then the parting remark he lobbed at you as he retreated to the bathroom, he was sure cemented your loathing of him. Punishing himself, he strips and steps under the freezing cold spray.

You sit staring at the closed door. You aren’t sure for how long but, when you finally snap out of it, your movements are wooden. He had dropped you on the bed in the master bedroom. This was his room. You slept in another of the bedrooms. You had assumed since he brought you into his room he intended to finish what you had started in the living room, but now you felt sick as you realized he had only been playing the part. His parting remark had filled you with shame and as did the memory of calling his name as he walked away. You had been wanton, arching into him and moaning. Obviously, Bucky thought little of you.

In your room, you let your tears fall. For three weeks the two of you had tiptoed around each other. Shy smiles and conversation revolving around work had been most of your time together. You thought it was simply because he didn’t know you well, but now you understood that he didn’t want to. That was why he always kept you at arm's length. You tried to sleep, but the phrase he had thrown over his shoulder as he retreated to the bathroom haunted your dreams.

You woke early the next morning feeling as if you hadn’t slept. You head to the kitchen, put coffee on, and gather ingredients to make coffee cake. You needed comfort food.

An hour and a half later the coffee cake was cooling on a rack, you were drinking your second cup of coffee, and Bucky had yet to make an appearance. A soft knock sounds on the front door and you open it to reveal your neighbor.

“Morning, Frank.” You say, confused at his appearance.

“Good morning. I come to beg a favor from a benevolent neighbor.” Frank grins winningly.

“And what would that be?” You laugh lightly.

“A cup of coffee. My pot runneth dry.”

“Sure. Come in. I just made some coffee cake. Would you care for a slice?” You ask as you lead the way to the kitchen.

“Sounds great, Suzie Homemaker.” Frank quips.

“Hardly.” You motion to the table on one side of the kitchen and Frank takes a seat. You move to the counter, slice cake, and pour coffee for both of you. Arms wrap around you from behind and your eyes widen until you realize it’s Bucky.

“Morning, Doll.” He hugs you from behind and kisses the side of your neck.

“Morning, baby,” you sway in his arms before turning in them to grin at him. “Would you like some coffee cake?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky’s mouth captures yours in an impassioned kiss and he begins to lift you as if to place you on the counter.

“Babe, Frank’s here. He came by for a cup of coffee.” You pull away. Bucky knew Frank was there but he was continuing the show from last night.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t realize.” Bucky grins at the man.

“Don’t feel you have to stop on my account,” Frank chuckles.

“I don’t like to share.” Bucky smiles stiffly.

Frank laughs, “Can’t blame you. How’s work? What is it you do again?”

“Mechanic. It’s good. Business is steady. What do you do, Frank?” Bucky counters.

“Landlord. I own several properties that I rent out.” Frank accepts the plate of cake you set in front with a smile for you. “What do you do, gorgeous?”

“I’m in between jobs right now.” You say demurely, feigning embarrassment.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll keep an ear out for anything coming available. What did you do before?” Frank asks.

Bucky pulls you into his lap, “She was a nurse, but she’s looking to get away from the medical field.”

“Why?” Frank digs.

“No reason.” You say quietly.

“Frank’s our friend, Doll. Maybe it would be good for him to know. Have someone else to help?” Bucky whispers in your ear loud enough for Frank to hear.

You nod and look at Frank with shame written across your features, “I’m an addict. Pain meds. I, um, lost my license because of theft. I went to treatment. Been clean for four months.”

“That’s one of the reasons we moved here. To get a fresh start.” Bucky squeezes you and you smile at him sadly.

“I’m sorry you’ve been through that.” Frank looks as if the wheels in his head are turning.

“Thank you.” You say.

“No, thank you for the coffee and cake. I’ll let you get on with your morning.” Frank stands up.

“Another cup for the long walk back?” You quip.

“That would be great. Thank you.” Frank accepts the cup before heading home.

When you return to the kitchen you sit across from Bucky at the table. “That was well done.”

“Yeah. You played that perfectly.” Bucky said.

“And you steered expertly.”

Bucky looks at you surprised at the compliment, “Thank you.”

“Bucky, about last night…” you stare at him, biting your lip.

“Yeah?” Bucky’s gut tightened remembering how he had taken advantage of you.

“What did you mean by that last comment?”

“Comment?” Bucky was stalling, unsure of what you were asking.

“The ‘you almost had me believing it’ comment. It… hurt. It felt like you were shaming me or something.”

“No! I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant it was convincing. That’s all.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry, didn’t mean to overreact.” You fidget with your hands.

“Are you okay? With what we did last night? I didn’t want to overstep…” Bucky trails off.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Nothing happened that I didn’t… It was fine. A good show, right?” You are near squirming in the chair remembering how he had kissed you and feeling his body pressed against you. You squeeze your thighs together.

“Right.” Bucky says but his thoughts were on how sexy you had sounded when you moaned his name and how much effort it took not to strip you naked in his bedroom. “So, um, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Gardening. Planting gladiolus bulbs. You?”

“I was gonna do some work on my bike. Maybe go for a ride.” Bucky smiles tightly.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.” You put your cup and plate in the sink and head for the doorway.

“Do you… wanna go on the ride with me?” Bucky asks suddenly.

You turn back to look at him, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay.” He smiles.

“Okay.” You smile as you head to your room.

Part 3

Masterlist

Permanent: @bubbabarnes @badassbaker @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @cherthegoddess @buckyluvrs @sherlocksmanwatson @cap-n-stuff @finleyjayne @caplanreads @connie326 @daydreamerinadazedworld @bugsbucky @chrisevanscardigan @harrysthiccthighss @palaiasaurus64 @rebekahdawkins @maaaaarveeeeel @tllynn15 @learisa @jelly-fishy-babie @fistmebuckyskywalker @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @liebs82 @honestly-dontknow @a-really-bi-girl @saiyanprincessswanie @baddie-barnes @aikeia @paleo-runaway @marvelgirl7 @starlightcrystalline @xxloki81xx @slytherinambitious @sallycanwait68 @slytherdorxmd @fangirlforever2412 @rainbowkisses31 @whisperlullaby @thejemersoninferno @thehumanistsdiary @supraveng @dispatchvampire @teamarvel @sxbby-barnes

Almost had me believing it: @farfromjustordinary @iheartsebastianstan @7minutes-tomidnight @thechaoticargonaut @marylimlp @buckybarnesdevotee @janaienaae @its-a-simply-me-thing

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chisheya · 4 years ago

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hanahaki disease [niragi x reader x chishiya] highschool au!

Summary: love is reckoned to make us powerful; not susceptible - as much as i tried to convince myself that. as much as i tried to stay strong; tough and heroic, enough to risk it all and let my emotions surge on the exterior. strong enough to be crushed yet again, to love and be loved again - knowing my fragility.

i’ve known the agony and lament sufficiently enough that it demolished my sanity, left my soul burning away, gradually fading into ashes and disappearing like dust under the moonlight’s breeze. and the funny unfunny part is - i wish i had told him, perhaps one day i will.

‘‘I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. My love bloomed like a flower in my chest.’‘

Tag list: (if you want to be tagged, let me know because the previous post got deleted for some weird reason lol)

Word count: 2.5k

The sun's soft twinkles crawl over house rooftops, and in an early hour, despite it, it still felt like a chilly morning. Early as it is, the neighborhood was caught up with parents rushing with their children, some going to work, some even rushing late. Thankfully, the riots of youngsters were vetoed by the sound of Supermassive Black Hole by Muse playing through my earphones. I was deliberately walking down the alley on my way to school, gripping the hem of my uniform and cursing to myself that this skirt was of no use to at least keep my legs warm.

The reckless gust reaching from my left side provoked me to jump out of my skin, revolting me from my daydream.

‘’God's sake-’’ I turn my head only to see Chishiya standing next to me, with a smirk on his lips. The sudden view of him caused me to blush, as my brain screamed oh-look-your-crush. Although you could rarely see this guy smiling and being friendly, his agenda was incompatible. Clever, crucial, and cunning as he is, he always had a special place in my heart. Why, you ask? I'd love to know that too... Maybe because he has been my friend since forever.

''You must be that cold, huh,'' Chishiya says sarcastically. ''Y-yeah.'' I murmur, ''anyway, again one of early practicals at the hospital today?'' ''Correct.''

''Yikes,'' I add, clicking my tongue, ''good luck.''

''Have you decided if you'll stay here in Tokyo?'' Chishiya pops a question, clearing his throat, as his face remains immersed on the boulevard in front of us. ''Huh, what do you mean?'' I add, looking up at him, wishing he'd look back at me. But he never does...

''For university.'' ''Oh, that,'' is all I say, before taking the next few seconds to think what to proceed with, ''yeah, Tokyo - I guess, still not sure yet.''

''It better be Tokyo or I'm disowning you.'' He says in a stern voice, delivering it with a smirk as he quickly runs his hand through my hair, resulting in becoming a mess.

''Hey!'' I chuckle, about to return the favor but he succeeded to grab my wrist and stop me just on time. Shucks.

Chishiya and I have been friends since childhood, as our dads have been friends since their early school days as well. He's in his third year in med school and I'm about to graduate in less than a month and enter university in few months. Not to mention, living close enough in the same neighborhood visiting Shuntaro's family every Sunday for dinner was a ritual that my dad, Aguni, and I couldn't stop doing. My mother has had enough of Tokyo so she decided to leave for England. Yeah, pretty simple...it has only been dad and me since. Not like I regret staying with dad, and if there was the father that would win The Dad of the Year award, it would be him. Playing cards meanwhile drinking wine was a post-dinner ritual for our dads, later through time, Chishiya joining them as well. In most cases, I'd end up just observing how they play and anticipating who's going to win. From Aguni being the best to, Shuntaro's dad, a few years later as Chishiya evolved enough his cunning games he beat them in it. He became a card game master, no jokes.

I didn't notice it has come for the time for us to go different paths, as my school was in the complete opposite direction.

''So,'' I murmur, stopping and turning to face him, ''I guess time to say goodbye.''

''Good luck, kid.'' He says, giving me a soft smile. Ah, if he only knew how something so insignificant and minor to him has such a consequence on my heart. But he never will though. As I know, what we are and what we are not.

I just smiled as I watch him turn his back on me and leave first. He always leaves first. I stayed few more seconds as his figure slowly fades of to distance I get ready to go my way.

⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟

After the last class, I choose to go to a nearby library to catch up on some assignments. The library is a soft of the enormous coffee shop yet one can stay all day and feel good even if one buys nothing at all. That's the discrepancy. It is a place of welcome for everyone rather than for "customers." This is not a money-nexus venue yet a love-nexus space, and that makes it a real treasure in this city.

I was relinquished and dazzled by the book in front of me, until the moment someone’s voice yanks me out of my thoughts.

''Since classes are over, want to grab lunch?'' I feel a hand placing softly on my left shoulder as a soft boyish voice peaks behind me.

''Niragi,'' my lips stretch in a smile as I embrace my best friend in a hug, ''of course, you mind if Chishiya tags along as well?''

''Oh,'' he mouths, providing it with a vague look, as I feel him stiffen up a bit and breaking the hug before proceeding, ''Chishiya..too?''

''Yeah!''

''Sure,'' he says, providing it with a soft smile, ''definitely..''

''Great, I'll let him know then.''

⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟

Niragi and I walked after school side by side, on the way to Shibuya where we agreed to meet up with Chishiya. As we have arrived early, we stand by a big poster advertisement. I gently lean my back onto it, facing the industrious avenues of Shibuya wandering with people. Niragi, leaning as well, right next to me.

''So, have you decided? Is it going to be Tokyo or London?''

''Hm,'' I murmur as his question breaks me out of my trance, ''regarding studies?'' He nods.

''Honestly, not sure,'' I hesitate, before proceeding, ''but I'd love to stay in Tokyo.'' This was not a lie, but London on the other hand, was just an excuse in case my health gets worse. An agreement was made with my dad that it'd be best to stay there with my mom and focus on getting better.

''Tokyo.'' I sigh, still caught up thinking what if I have to end up having to go back to London. What do I do then? And more importantly, what do I tell them? The minor, simple thought of lying to the people I deeply care about stings.

''And you?''

''Tokyo,'' he says softly while looking down, smiling - as the thought if he had something that binds him to dwell in this city, ''I already got accepted in for game engineering.''

I knock him softly on top of his head, standing on my tippy toes. Though he was portrayed as the delicate and sweet guy he is, he was taller than both Chishiya and me.

''Ouch,'' he exclaims as his hand rests on top of his head, my action catching him off guard, ''why did you do that?''

''Why haven't you told me, little idiot?''

''I planned to,'' he giggles, a wide smile as I've never seen scattering across his delicate features, ''I was waiting for you to confirm you got in your desired major as well.''

Yeah, I have, Niragi. It's just that I might not even be able to go because of my health. The phrases, the verdict, that I desired I could have mouthed out. But I couldn't, not now. Not when we're about part ways, and the way I want to remember these recollections is by them as their happy-selves, us cycling through alleys of Tokyo, eating noodles in the park during chilly nights, by city lights as the background noise of crickets was vetoed by our laughter. The recollections, moments I'll protect in my psyche permanently.

I just remained silent, looking at my friend as he was smiling and looking off to distance till he started waving to someone. I shift my gaze only to see Chishiya's figure approaching us, hands in his pockets as usual.

''Hello there, peasants.'' Chishiya teases, as he finally approaches us.

''Excuse me, lord Shuntaro.'' Niragi scoffs at him, crossing his arms.

''So where will we head to?''

''Whoa, Morizono, not even embracing your friend in a warm hug and you're already talking about eating,'' Chishiya says falsifying pain in his voice, ''I'm hurt.''

''Chishiya,'' I let out, rolling my eyes at his statement, ''I know you don't do hugs.'' I proceed, nudging his forearm slightly, hoping that the warmth I felt growing in my cheeks wasn't showing.

''Fuunji or Ichiran Shibuya?'' Niragi says, clicking his tongue.

''Fuunji,'' I mutter, at the same time as Chishiya adds, ''Ichiran.'' Our eyes met instantly as we both realized our choices were different.

Do I have to mention that I'm probably already blushing? No, because heck - yes I am.

Oh boy, here we go. Let him have his way, Y/N.

As you always do.

''You know what, let's go to Ichiran,'' I exclaim, looking in between my best friends waiting for them to agree.

''Ichiran it is,'' Niragi exclaims.

A little while later, our food has finally arrived. The moment it lands on the table, Niragi digs at his sweet and sour soup and pulls out all the cubes of carrot. I don't say anything, I really couldn't care less about table manners and there's always something interesting going on in his head. Chishiya calm and collected as he is, starts eating at a slow pace. After swallowing his first bite, he breaks the silence, ''we must go somewhere to celebrate your birthday, Y/N.''

''I'm not sure-''

Niragi peeks up at me with sticky fingers in his mouth. Meanwhile, Chishiya adds, through the mouthful, that I could just about make out the name "Kyoto."

As my mouth was full of food as well, I just nod seriously.

"That's a great idea, Chishiya. I never thought of that." Niragi grins, still with the fingers in his mouth, then he scoops them up and lines them neatly next to his stocking.

Chishiya holds out a cup of soju, "for Y/N." Niragi's hand comes over and snatches it up, his grin as wide as his cheeks will stretch, and scatters back.

Chishiya and I just exchanged looks, laughing at his silliness.

We drank soju, we were already merry and full, we told the most terrible of jokes. That was us. Casual, informal, yet caring enough to make the time we spend together joyful.

⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟

After grabbing lunch with Chishiya and Niragi, I headed straight home. The thought of visiting Kyoto for my birthday with them was still bouncing on my mind. The thing is, how to bring it up to Aguni? Hm? As loving and fond as he is of both of them, the thought of sending his only daughter away with two boys on a trip probably sounded far away from a brilliant idea. Sigh, I guess it'll take a lot to convince him.

''Dad, I'm home!'' I exclaim, meanwhile closing the doors behind me and taking off my shoes in the hallway.

''Someone's back home early, huh?'' Aguni says chuckling, as he plants a soft kiss on my forehead.

''Yup, something smells delightful,'' I say, meanwhile slapping my hands in excitement and taking my seat.

''Ah, you sneaky,'' He adds, taking the seat as well across me, ''it's your favorite - pad thai chicken wok.''

''So,'' I began, meanwhile randomly picking food with chopsticks in my plate, ''I have a question.''

''Yes?'' Aguni murmurs, mouthful, gazing up at me. ''So you know that my birthday is next week...'' I say awkwardly, placing my chopsticks gently on the table.

''Of course, how would I forget my daughter's birthday?'' He scoffs, butthurt that his daughter thinks he's that forgetful.

''No, of course not.'' I chuckle, ''but I did want to ask you something, uh...''

''Go ahead, silly.''

Just say it. Now or never. And I do - ''I've been thinking of visiting Kyoto with Chishiya and Niragi-''

''Not happening.''

''But-''

''You? On a trip? With two boys?'' his voice stern as he glares up at me, causing me to swallow, ''you must be out of your mind to think I'll let you, Y/N. Boys your age are wild.''

''No, there's going to be more of other friends...too, from school.'' I start, slightly panicking as I was also trying to think of the ways to get him to approve, ''not just Chishiya and Niragi, although you know they're my closest friends.'' I proceed further, looking around the food on the table, as I noticed he has almost cleared out his plate, and yet there was still chicken left in mine. Splendid, a perfect way to bribe him now.

''Plus,'' I mutter, as I start taking out the chicken from my plate, putting on his, his eyes now fully focused on that chicken, ''I know you trust them enough to protect me if anything happens, right?'' I grin, awkwardly.

''Only because they are aware who's your father and someone not to mess with.'' He adds, still not convinced enough, but still taking the small pieces of chicken with his chopsticks.

''Uh, yeah,'' I murmur, as I watch him, eating up those last few pieces of chicken as if they are his last, ''beside your protectiveness, what do you think?''

''Y/N, you've forgot one thing.'' Aguni says with a serious tone, placing down his chopsticks.

''What?'' I question, acting dumb. Expecting him to answer, he just remains silent and gives me an even worse glare now, ''doctor's appointment,'' I add, ''come on, it doesn't have to be next week as well. Just check with them if they can postpone it.''

He preserves silent, still staring up at me with a serious look on his face. Sigh.

''A trip with my friends is more important. Not to mention, it's our last as we're all parting ways soon because of university.''

''To you. But to me, your health is more important Y/N.''

''I...understand, dad,'' I sigh, looking up at him, falsifying a smile, ''but look at me, I'm feeling fine. I've never been better.''

''Same as you claimed in the past, until it happened again and I was close to losing you forever.'' He asserts, this time his voice louder than before.

''Dad...cheer up,'' I exclaim, as I reach out my hand, placing it on top of his, ''it's...just because it happened then, doesn't mean it will happen again.''

''You don't know that. Your condition is serious-''

''I'll take care of myself. Alright?'' I murmur, squeezing his hand, ''please, can I go?''

''Alright, alright. Under one condition, take care of yourself and as soon as you get back we're going to the doctors. Promise?''

''I promise.'' I holler, lunging from my seat to hug him before storming off to my room. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I lean my back on it.

There was an eerie sentiment I felt within, a good sort though - just not sure for what exact reason yet. It felt like it was the calling card of an adventure, paths awaiting, what will transpire. Whatever was ahead could be a great challenge, and there could be tears, but it was an exploration to take and so I smiled. The inklings would come, perhaps when I’d least expected it, so I’m ready to take this leap of faith.

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

Text

Title: filthy rich [2/3] Pairing: millionare!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au] Genre: mild romance themes, major angst ahead, a bit of mystery, mafia!au-ish

Synopsis: He was perfect, maybe too damn perfect.

Warnings: mild sexual content, yandere themes, toxic relationships, violence, shady business, class differences, mentions of rape, and sakusa being a manipulative bastard [this fic does not in any way glorify these types of relationships!!!] Notes: Happy 605 followers guys! Decided to change this into a three part fic since it would be too damn long....I know this is a long overdue chapter hnnng i fucking hate college i cant wait to see sakusa in the new season, how was it guys? I was absolutely thrown off by akaashi even if he only had like a minute or so screentime hnnng...

previous ;; next || series masterlist || taglist

Sakusa Kiyoomi reminded you of an onion.

Over the past three years of going out with him, you seem to find a new layer to him. No longer was he the asshole from that day, he was the sweetest boyfriend, hands down. You were both a bit awkward in terms of affection since you two were treading on unfamiliar territory (much to your surprise, a man like Sakusa Kiyoomi has never been seriously intimate with anyone) but like every other couple out there, you surpassed it. You were now in the receiving end of his soft smiles, warm gaze, and affection.

Although you had your worries like your residency and his company growing bigger and bigger by the day, you started to wonder if you’d last long but the man casted your doubts aside and continued to be faithful to you and everyday you seem to fall deeper and deeper in the rabbit hole.

“...and for the last time, stop buying me expensive things and offering to pay my student loans.” you frowned, stirring the Butajiru for your boyfriend who was coming by today for dinner. Out of spite, early on in the relationship, you had to learn how to cook since Sakusa demanded you to when he learned that you lived a lot on canned foods and unhealthy take-outs. Much to your despise, he even volunteers to pay for your weekly groceries and even got you a ‘for sale’ stove that he apparently can’t return because he misplaced the receipt.

“I don’t get it, don’t partners like it when they’re given gifts all the time?” his brows are upturned, making you scoff. “From past experiences-”

“Are you sure that those weren’t sugar babies?” you cut him off, pointing the wooden spoon on your hand at him, “Because from your description you sound like a sugar daddy.”

“Hey.” He grumbled, walking up to you from behind to envelope you on a hug, “I’m not old enough to be a sugar daddy.”

You shut the stove off and turn to him, placing a brief kiss on the jaw, “You yell at teenagers and complain when it’s too noisy. I think you qualify for a senior discount and a sugar daddy title.” You joked, escaping his grip to grab some bowls so you both could start eating.

“You’re only four years younger than me.”

“Mhm.” You hummed, sticking your tongue out, “Also, aren’t you supposed to be at a party tonight?”

“You weren’t there.”

“Aren’t you required to go?” You frowned, placing the bowl in front of him, “You know I’m not a big fan of those things and you can’t keep handing it over to Komori-san…”

“And you know I hate it when you aren’t there.” He softly repeated.

You roll your eyes and place your own bowl as you sit in front of him, “Always the smooth talker since we met three years ago.” you shake your head.

“Three years, huh.” Sakusa paused, “Speaking of three years, I was thinking…”

You stopped eating and looked up to face him, his face dead serious, “Move in with me.” He asked out of the blue. Your eyes widen and you let down a gulp, your stomach flipping at his words.

“I-” You paused, “I...I can’t…”

Sakusa tilted his head, confused, “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong…” You started, eyes looking at your food, seemingly nervous, “I-I wanna move in with you, my lease is almost up...but…”

“But what?”

“It’s not like I wasn’t going to tell you any sooner but….but i’m moving.”

Silence filled the room that you could almost hear the pin drop, “What do you mean you’re moving?” Sakusa’s voice was void of emotion and it made you scared for the first time. The man wishes you were wrong, wishing that you were just moving someplace nearby but the next words stun him.

“I got accepted for a huge humanitarian work in Medaide.” You gulped, carefully choosing your words as you slither your hands to his, trying to distract him, “We'll be travelling around third world countries, like the dream I've always told you about. I thought, well, I didn't got accepted since I didn't hear from them but it seems like I did.”

“How many months?”

“It’s- It’s a permanent job, I go back once a year…”

Silence enveloped the room, the only thing that could be heard was the faint sound of the bustling city outside. The world seems to have stopped for Sakusa that time.

“Congrats.” Sakusa smiled softly, breaking the silence, “I’m proud of you, bunny.”

Your eyes widen as you immediately leap out the chair and run to your boyfriend’s side, “Thank god!” you exclaimed, sitting on his lap to envelope him in a hug, “I was afraid you’d break up with me.”

You stare at him in the eye, hands on his cheeks, “Now why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, we’d only be seeing each other once a year if i accepted it.” You murmured, kissing him on the temple, “Thanks for being so supportive.”

You don’t notice how his grip tightens a bit on your waist nor the darken look looming over his features, “I’d never let you go, bunny. Never.” he hummed.

You continue on with your little happy bubble with your ever supportive boyfriend, you start shopping for some goodies for your trip that you were scheduled to leave next month. You should’ve known everything was too good to be true.

A week before your trip, the company had called you in and said that you were cut off from the team and that apparently your experience wasn’t enough.

You vividly remember Sakusa rushing to your side mid-day when he should be swamped with work, whispering soothing words in your ear. You were absolutely devastated, the dream job you wanted felt like it slipped away, it took you a month to get back to your feet and actually go out. Despite getting over it, you were discouraged, the words they said echoed on your head, thoughts on how you weren’t performing well back in med school and how your record on residency wasn’t enough.

“Y/N?”

“Oh.” you blinked, looking up to your boyfriend, “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“It’s alright.”

It seemed like the only constant thing in your life now was Sakusa, your friends were busy and they had come and gone, you didn’t want to worry your very busy parents so you didn’t call them about your dilemma. You didn’t want to call your aunt or Hinata about it too since you know they’d tell your parents.

Kiyoomi was the only person who stayed.

He was the only one you trusted.

“Is that roommate thing with you still open?” you suddenly asked, making Sakusa paused mid-movement.

“Of course it is,” He dropped the cutlery he was holding and strode to your side to caress your cheek, “It always is for you.”

“Guess I’ll be able to use my duplicate more often.”

Maybe being a humanitarian doctor wasn’t how it was going to be for you, it took another month for you to actually go and find a permanent job. Sakusa points out that you can take all the time out that you need but you don't want to lounge around and do nothing, you need a good distraction.

So you ended up working for a prestigious hospital as an ER doctor, for a moment, you forgot about Medaide with the help of your new job and your boyfriend.

You were happy.

Really happy.

The idea of staying in Tokyo didn’t actually seem like a bad idea now, you were going to bring it up to your parents and tell them that you wanted to stay here permanently with your boyfriend. They’d probably be happy, Sakusa Kiyoomi is a perfect man.

Until you come to the very sudden realization that he wasn’t.

Kiyoomi hated going out on long distance trips, he always wanted to be next to you or take you with him but this one was apparently too important to skip out so you greet him goodbye and wait for him to come home. Being the good partner you are, you decided to clean the house for your boyfriend. Kiyoomi was an incredibly clean person so you tried to keep your sloppiness to yourself when you moved in a few months ago.

Getting rid of the small dust here and there and throwing some unimportant things on the side, you prepare to throw out the collected garbage but ultimately freeze on your tracks when you find a ripped paper on the garbage dump.

Normally, you don’t do garbage dives.

Why would you?

Yet the name on top along with your boyfriend’s name caught your attention. It was Medaide’s logo, you grabbed the ripped piece of paper and started looking through the garbage dump, it did start to smell but curiosity always got the best of you.

Nervously biting your lower lip, you don’t find all the papers but you find one dated the same week you had broken the news to your boyfriend and the words, “Thank you for your donation and for sending us a group of more competent doctors for this batch.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stood there, shaking, the surge of panic and anxiety bubbling within you made the bile rose on your throat.

What was going on?

Was this really your perfect boyfriend?

Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding, why would your boyfriend do that? What would he even gain? You bite on your fingernails as you walk back and forth in front of the front desk, “Y/N-san?”

You jump on the spot.

“K-Kenjiro-san.”

“You alright there?” Shirabu Kenjiro asked, tilting his head to the side, “You’re not looking very good these days.”

“Y-Yeah…” You gulped, “J-Just thinking about some things.”

“Well, your shift is about to be over. Maybe you can go home earlier? ER’s pretty much dead right now.” Your fellow doctor shrugged, you turned around and let out a sigh, maybe you should request to go home earlier. You needed to rest. All this thinking was getting to your head that you had almost misdiagnosed a patient this afternoon.

“Hey Kenjiro-san.” you ask your workmate, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“I have a friend.” You gulped down, “They’ve got this perfect relationship and he’s a super great guy...then-then they realize that he did something bad…”

Kenjiro looks up from his paperwork and shoots you his usual upturned brow, “Can you specify what he did?”

“He got in the way of their dreams.”

Kenjiro is silent for a moment as if he was thinking of something deep, “Well if I were that person, I’d leave him. What kind of asshat doesn’t support their partner’s dreams?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips, “Tell your friend that they deserve better and not some asshat who is holding them back.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, he had a very good point, “Yeah, that’s right.”

Kenjiro had a good point there, maybe confronting Sakusa would be a wise choice but as of right now you decided against it, you needed to gather the courage to actually talk to him about it. The thing that scared you the most was how much you loved and trusted the guy too much.

He went through such lengths to get you to stay around, who knows what else he could’ve done?

You shake your head, you were being paranoid yet at the same time you couldn’t help it. Your anxiety towards the situation wasn’t helpful at all and it was spiking up and down.

On your way home, you decided to pass by a local pharmacy because your head hadn’t been feeling very well, “Do you have any pain killers?” you weakly asked the man on the front counter, after giving you your medication, you also decided to buy some extra vitamins because you recalled almost running out of them.

“Oh, we ran out of that brand yesterday.” The pharmacist replied, scrunching his brow in wonder, “Would you like another one? It’s not a generic brand but it’s pretty much the same.”

“Yeah, that’ll do too.” You nodded, after paying for your purchase, you headed home. Fixing up your medicine in your cabinet, you freeze mid-action when you notice how familiar the vitamin looked. Shakily raising your hand to grab your birth-control pills in the medicine cabinet, you almost topple down when you pop it open next to the vitamin you bought.

It was the same.

It was exactly the same.

Before you knew it you were vomiting in the basin, your headache was worsening and the shaking wouldn’t stop.

The idea of the perfect boyfriend was completely erased in your head.

You didn’t look well these past few days, Kiyoomi noticed it because you didn’t even dared to hide it anymore, you wanted to leave him. Not only did he get in the way of whatever you worked hard for but he was trying to get you pregnant without your consent.

You felt utterly disgusted.

You sat at the tub, completely drained from all the events that transpired this past two weeks. The three year perfect streak that he tried to maintain was reduced to nothing but shambles. You wanted to blame yourself for being too stupid and caught up in this sham, your boyfriend was messed up, you wanted to get away but how?

You inwardly sighed, you were stupid. Too stupidly in love and intoo deep the rabbit hole that you hadn't even noticed.

“Y/N?”

Your gaze snapped to find him standing there with an expensive bouquet of flowers, you try to let out a weak smile, “Hey.”

“You’re not looking well.” He commented, placing the flowers on the side as he approached your naked figure on the tub, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, “Just work.”

“I told you not to overstrain yourself.” He mumbled, bending down to your level, “You might get sick.”

You wanted to cringe away in disgust as he kissed your bare shoulders but you maintained yourself, “It’s fine.” You softly said, “I just have to do my best. I still want to try out for humanitarian work if I get a good recommendation from the hospital.”

You notice the quick shift of expression in his eyes, making you tighten your lips, so there it was.

“Again? I thought-”

“It’s my dream.” You began, trying to give him a smile, maybe, just maybe you can let him see through it, “You know how much I want this.”

“Maybe it’s not meant for you.”

“Excuse me?”

Sakusa Kiyoomi’s eyes widen at the new reaction, your smile turning to a grimace. Over the course of your relationship, you had never been this angry, “Y/N, you know that’s not-”

“Get out.” You shakily say.

“Y/N.”

“I said, Get out, Sakusa.” You yell again, eyes seeing red, the bastard had the audacity to keep pulling you back and doing these things to you. You were downright disgusted at him and everything he was doing, what more would you find? The mere fact that he destroyed your dreams and switched out your birth control had you on edge at the moment and you didn’t want to try to find out anymore, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.

He lets out a sigh, “You don’t have to leave the room. I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

You watch him leave and close the bathroom door yet his eyes don’t fool you anymore.

You didn’t feel safe here.

You needed to get out.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is no fool towards your shift of attitude, he knows something is up when you snap at him when you were usually the calmer one (yes, you may be a bundle of energy and spitfire but you were relatively calm in the most part) so he calls the head of your hospital and sits him down, the head is shaking and on his knees, begging him to spare his life and his job for he did not know that you were overworked at all in your department.

“...I watch over her, sir…” the chief shakily exclaimed, “I always do…”

“So, you’re telling me… that my Y/N is a liar?”

The chief immediately freezes up on the spot, “Good lord, of course not! Doctor Y/N would never-”

“What would it be?”

“E-excuse me?”

“Your hands or your life?”

The man immediately cries out, begging him for mercy for he was innocent but Sakusa didn’t care.

He didn’t care at all.

Yes, Sakusa Kiyoomi would do anything for you. If someone were to make you sad, tired, weary, or any negative emotion, he’d strike them down, just like how he paid your friends to stay away, just like how he had subtly shifted your parents work conditions that prevented them from returning to you.

You were his and his only.

No one could get in your ways.

“My name is Doctor Sato, I’ll be your new chief...”

You stare at the new head of the hospital blankly, apparently the previous chief, Doctor Yamomoto, had to retire due to some matters with his family. It was a shame, you really liked him since he was awfully nice to you and everyone in the ward, “...L/N-san?” the older man calls out as soon as the meeting was over.

Your gaze snapped towards him as he tilted his head slightly, you’re completely bewildered by the sudden attention from your new boss, “Are your working conditions alright?”

“Yes, chief.”

“If you have any problem, “ his tight lip turns into a big smile as he places his hand on your shoulder, “Please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You blink at his uncharacteristic request and immediately move back to get away from his grasp, a rather uncomfortable smile made its way to your lips as you nodded, “I’ll take note of that, Chief.”

Thankfully nothing odd happened anymore after the day ended and as you patched up your things, getting ready to go home, you find your one and only boyfriend standing there with another bouquet of flowers in his hands. The sense of familiar dread sinked in once again.

How would you end this all?

The perfect man was a liar and he got in the way but why couldn’t you end things with him quickly? Why couldn’t you cut him off? You were so angry at him yet at the same time you were so lost, where did it go wrong?

“Y/N…” He greets, “How was work?”

“It was fine.” You quietly replied, turning your gaze at the expensive bouquet on his hands once again. Ever since you guys fought, he had been buying you flowers and expensive things but you remained the same, you just didn’t know how to act anymore around him.

“How was your new chief?”

You immediately tense up, as far as you recalled you had only met the chief today and no one knew about this outside the hospital. How the hell did this bastard know?

Sakusa notices you’ve gone too quiet, “Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Word travels fast, huh?” you blinked, regaining your composure quickly, something wasn’t right now, you knew that something went deeper than that little Medaide charade he did and switching your pills to get you pregnant, “He’s alright and please stop buying me stuff, didn’t I tell you that we were fine already?”

“Y/N-”

You sighed and leaned in closer, pulling down his mask so that you could give him a peck on his lips. Inside, you felt disgusted but this was the only way now, “Stop acting all cringey and lovey-dovey. I forgive you. Let’s not fight again.” You consoled the tall man.

You notice how soft his eyes became.

Yes, two can play a game.

From stopping you from moving to trying to get you pregnant, it was those things that made you come towards a conclusion that Sakusa Kiyoomi didn’t wanted you to leave his side. The man probably wouldn’t stop at anything, if he was willing to go to such lengths, what more could he do? You let out a tight smile as your boyfriend kisses your temple.

You needed to find a way and quick because the Sakusa Kiyoomi you thought you knew for the past three years was nothing like the Sakusa Kiyoomi in front of you.

taglist [send me an ask if you want to be tagged for the last chapter and as always if i forget to tag, just send me an ask]

@maraudusk ;; @iamnotobsessed ;; @ssuna ;; @weebartistinc ;; @aomineavenue ;; @tsukkismamagucci ;; @onlyshinji ;; @ichiraku-verse ;; @watevermelon ;; @victoriasee ;; @caramelcandescence ;; @n-nara ;; @bloody-bella ;; @ricefarmerkita ;; @paripedia ;; @srhlsx ;; @craftyfawns ;; @kepchups ;; @soggycardboardd ;; @vinnieluv ;; @dinablossom

@kn0xiousnight @newfriendjen

[can’t tag you guys uwu just make sure ur tags are open :<]

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu scenarios #yandere warning!!!#yandere!sakusa #filthy rich #📝📝.Filthy rich series #hostclub.adulting

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years ago

Note

so in one of the fics for frat!jj you mention the reader getting appendicitis. Could I request an imagine of jj getting worried and helping her through it and stuff?

anon! i was hoping someone would pick up on it and ask me, thank you :)

(warnings: cursing, appendicitis, not edited)

It all really went wrong when you and JJ were on a run about a mile and a half from the house. You’d been having pains in your side for at least four months, but they always went away and centered around you period, so you figured it was fine. Apparently not.

Mid-run, you gasped a few times, trying to fight through it. Normally if you just held yourself a certain way it would pass after a few minutes. It didn’t work, so you stopped, startling JJ. He pulled his headphones off and placed a hand on your shoulder, “Everything okay, babe?”

“I’m not,” you started, through gritted teeth, “my fuckin side.”

“Stitch?”

You groaned and hunched over, arms fully wrapped around your stomach. JJ made a noise of alarm and squatted down so he was face to face with you. He pushed a sweaty strand of hair away from your face, and you squeezed your eyes shut as the invisible knife in your side twisted.

“Fuck, this doesn’t feel right,” you groaned.

“Can you stand?” JJ asked, pulling his phone out.

You tried and shook your head after a few seconds, “Nope, new permanent shape.”

He laughed and tried to call someone, cursing when they didn’t answer. It started to lighten a little, and you tried to stand straight again as he dialed someone else’s number.

“Pope,” JJ started in a relieved voice, “thank fuck you answered, man. Hey I’m going to drop you my location and I need you to come pick us up, something happened.”

You couldn’t hear what Pope said in return, but he was yelling a little. Laughing hurt though, so you stopped that almost immediately. JJ looked over as you winced and he bit his lip, “Yeah, I think maybe we need the hospital so if you could hurry, it’d be much appreciated.”

“That’s expensive, I don’t need the-“ you started, only to be interrupted with another wave.

“Yeah right, hush down there.”

JJ held your hand, letting you squeeze it, until Pope finally pulled up. He threw his truck in park and jumped out, running over to the two of you. You glanced up at him as he put a hand on your shoulder, “What hurts?”

You motioned toward your side, “It’s like a knife is in my side and every time I move it twists.”

Pope made a face, “Could be appendicitis, do you still have your appendix?”

“Yeah.”

JJ’s face paled, “Okay, we have to go now.”

You slowly wrapped one arm around JJ’s shoulders and one around Pope’s, and they helped you limp to the car. It hurt so bad when you had to step up, but you pushed through, trying not to show too much pain to worry JJ. But he saw through you, “Quick ride to the hospital, okay hon.”

“Mkay, yeah.”

Pope drove quickly, and not particularly carefully, the few miles to the hospital right off campus. By the time JJ helped you out of the back seat, the pain was residing a little, and you sighed in relief. JJ looked over, “Still making it?”

“Yeah, it’s getting better. Might not be appendicitis, we could probably leave.”

JJ rolled his eyes, “Sit down, I’ll go sign us in.”

You huffed but did as he said, slowly sinking down into a seat closest to the door. The pain may be going away slowly, but you still didn’t feel like walking far. JJ filled out the paperwork quickly, only having to ask you a few of the questions, and before you knew it, you were being called back.

The nurse looked at you and asked you to stretch your arms out, what exactly was hurting, if you felt like you could pee, and on a scale of one to ten, where was the pain. She didn’t seem too concerned, so you started to relax.

“You’re going to be given a drink, it’s a sort of dye, we’ll need it when we x-ray you to check for appendicitis.”

“I thought it was unlikely that I had appendicitis,” your voice had taken a frantic edge as you suddenly realized what appendicitis would mean.

JJ stroked his thumb over your knuckles, “They still have to check, sweetheart.”

The nurse nodded and you shut your eyes tightly. Her tone had gentled when she spoke, “Let’s get you to a room and then we’ll you get you that drink.”

A new nurse brought a wheelchair into the room and you started to protest, “Wait, no I can walk.”

JJ sighed, half in amusement, half in frustration, “Baby, get in the wheelchair and let these people do their job.”

The other nurse shrugged, “He can carry you if you really don’t want the wheelchair. Doesn’t matter to me. You just can’t walk.”

You looked up at JJ, grin on your face and he rolled his eyes, “I’m not fuckin carrying you when there’s a wheelchair right there.”

Batting your eyelashes at him you pouted, “Please, J.”

He carried you. Following the first nurse who had a wide, amused smile on her face. When he set you down on the bed you looked at her, “He’s whipped.”

“That he is,” she agreed on her way out to get the dye.

JJ glared at you, “Now you have to behave.”

“Or what,” you challenged, wincing as another wave of pain hit.

“I’ll come up with something,” he told you, but it wasn’t the most threatening thing, the concern in his voice at the new look of pain on your face more evident.

You were incredibly thankful for your boyfriend. JJ held your hand while you slowly drank the dye, forced you into the wheelchair for x-rays, and called your mom when the doctor came into the room to inform you that it was appendicitis, and you needed surgery ASAP because it was on the verge of bursting.

“Have you had a surgery before?” the doctor asked, glancing through your paperwork.

Clutching JJ’s hand tightly, you nodded, “Yeah, wisdom teeth.”

“Great, so you know how this is going to work.”

“Mhmm.”

After that, everything moved fast. A PA moved you and JJ to an actual room, not in the ER, and you settled in to wait for the anesthesiologist. JJ helped you get all your clothes off and into the hospital gown. You groaned, “Wait I don’t want anyone to see me naked.”

JJ laughed, “Tough shit, baby. They’re going to have to.”

“Nooo,” you whined, half joking, half serious.

It moved fast from there on out. Surgery felt like a blink and you were back in the room, loopily talking to JJ who was filming you. After a few minutes of pointless conversation, he planted a kiss on your forehead, “I love you sweetheart, but please sleep this off.”

And you were tired, so you complied. When you woke up, your mom was sitting in the chair JJ had previously occupied and you looked around the room for him, confused. Your mom looked up from her phone and smiled, “There you are.”

“Where’s JJ?” you asked, one track mind in full swing.

“He had class, so I told him he could go. You’re getting out tomorrow morning, so he’ll stop by then.”

You pouted, “He didn’t say goodbye.”

Your mom laughed, “I’m sure he feels very bad. Check your texts, he might’ve sent you something.”

And he had, which made you feel a bit better. The rest of the day passed in a blur of pain meds and boring hospital movies and bad hospital food. By the end, you just wanted to sleep until you could leave because at least you didn’t hurt while you were sleeping.

You did look at your mom once and asked her, “Do you think this means the pain I’ve been feeling every month for the past few will be gone.”

Her mouth fell open and she leaned forward, “You’ve been feeling this for months?”

“I mean yeah, but it always went away so I figured it was fine.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, “How does JJ put up with you?” You were a little offended, but honestly it was a good question.

That night, you slept restlessly, and eventually it was time to go. Your mom drove you to your dorm, and JJ was waiting outside it, one hand shoved in his shorts pocket, and one holding something. You slowly climbed out of the car and walked toward him, grinning.

“Missed you, loser,” you told him as you stepped into his personal space to rest your forehead on his collarbone.

“Missed you more, reckless,” he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Stepping away, you held out a hand for whatever he was holding and he took it, mistaking your intention. You shook his hand away, “No, what did you bring me?”

JJ huffed, “I guess that saying is true.”

“What saying?”

“Bitches get stitches.”

Your mouth fell open and you slapped his chest as he laughed, “It’s snitches, asshole.”

“You know I love you,” JJ told you, pulling you in gently for a kiss.

You huffed, pulling away, “Well I don’t know if I love you. You’re being mean to me and I just went under the knife.”

JJ rolled his eyes and led you inside the building, opening the door for you. You hesitantly followed him, pouting a little, until he said, “You know I’m about to baby the fuck out of you, so I think you can get past it.”

Which, fair enough. You smiled up at him, squeezing his hand, “I guess I do love you a little.”

“A little,” he muttered incredulously under his breath and you couldn’t help but laugh.

#frat!jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank request #sigma chi!jj

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tragedy-for-sale · 4 years ago

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Our Coruscant Babes

I want to write about them so first, gotta establish a few things.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The Coruscant Guard building is a whole seperate building for just the guard. The top half are offices, and gyms and whatever. The bottom half holds their rooms, bathrooms, and the service desk. There are some normal humans that are working there, but mainly Clones. Normal service workers have their own buildings.

It's right next to the clone med center, there's a bridge connecting the two so brothers are constantly sneaking over to visit their wounded brothers and smuggling gifts. Fox is authorized to not allow his brothers over there if they're not medical staff or a patient. But does Fox care? No, he doesn't. Go on ahead.

These babes go on patrol missions all the time, pretty routine stuff so naturally these boys know Coruscant better than their brothers, I mean, they live there. They know the best food spots, areas to always bring a brother to and where never to bring a shiny to.

The Coruscant Guard clones receive extensive training, a brother knows if they're gonna be a Guard member because they get picked from age ten and have a change in teachings. They still cover the basics their brothers do, but it's harder, faster and includes a lot more information. These clones tend to have better social skills and are fast thinkers. Guard members are chosen from the best cadets on Kamino.

Aside from the Guard, some clones can run fire departments and police jobs. Usually for higher and more dangerous situations because droids can only do so much. When fighting fires, the brothers admit it's really thrilling but any police case annoy them, because sometimes they get sent on dumb little calls and they don't understand why the damn droids can't take care of getting a Tooka out of someone's house.

It's hard work to say the least, when they get to Coruscant, their Commander takes them on a city training mission that lasts 24 hours and pushes the shinies to exhaustion, some even pass out. These boys learn caf is their best friend very quickly and when they can sleep, they sleep.

The Commanders get assigned undercover missions often because a lot of people don't know what a clone looks like. So, Guard Commanders are naturally suave and flirty little assholes. They also have exceptional fashion taste because they usually work undercover accompanying high officials and get dressed up like a doll by their assignment. But leeme say, taking out their suspect at the end of the night is very satisfying and, let's be real here, hot.

Those Commanders slay their outfits.

They go to their war-brothers' barracks and often leave little gift bags to be found. The Guard technically isn't allowed there either, but no one enforces it so what's the point? The boys will sneak away from their building and go hug their brothers and pass out watching movies or whatever.

They don't lose brothers that often, usually it's some freak accident. They don't fear their blasters as much as their brothers on the front do. There's a certain ignorance in Guard Boys, so when their brothers die, they are traumatized. Because their numbers don't drop hundreds all at once, a death happens once in a while and the boys are left to soak in that pain and aren't very good at hiding emotions.

Yes, Guard Boys are very emotional. Except Fox, well,, he is,,

Very deep down

After the temple explosion, Thorn and Fox presented the idea for a memorial of all the clones and civilians lost. The council voted for the civilians but not the clones, 'it would just be numbers.' So what did the Jedi do? They gave their men their own memorial in the temple, carved by the best artists of the Jedi.

Every few weeks all the Commanders meet at Fox's building, the Chancellor and Master Yoda are there, they go over stats and percents of accidents, explosions, any threat the guard take cares of and their impact over the people. It's pretty routine but the Commanders are on edge the entire day and none of their men knew why until one of the Commander were relieved of duty and sent back to Kamino right on the spot. They then realized, their place wasn't permanent and they could be forced out of their life. Palpatine and Yoda only want what is best for Coruscant.

#Coruscant guard #i love our boys in red #guard boys #babiesssss #clones #clone wars #tcw #star wars #commander fox #commander thorn #love them #you know you want to

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xanderwithanx · 3 years ago

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Chloe does night-time diary posts on HER tumblr, so I'm going to start doing them here, sometimes. It would be nice if you read it, but, please, don't feel obligated! This is more for me to write.

(I got tired of my normal journal, I guess. It's full of bad poetry anyway. Besides, where's the thrill of losing anonymity in a physical notebook?)

I've basically been asleep and depressed for several days, because I had withdrawal after not being able to get my adhd meds. But, I got it today, and DID THINGS. (This is SO much better than before!)

Today, I went to a small café or restaurant (focused on tea) called Alice's Teacup that was Alice in Wonderland themed! My long-standing obsession with Alice in Wonderland knows no bounds. It was a really cute place. I got pumpkin pancakes, and some really good iced tea. Like... REALLY good iced tea.

Still, it seemed like the entire place was geared towards having a pot of tea and snacks with your friends, which left me a bit lonely. The person I asked couldn't come, and by the time I heard back, I was more than halfway there. Still, I read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and watched Monty Python on my phone, so I still had a good time!

I dressed pretty eccentricly and effeminately all day, but, with my facial hair, I was ALWAYS coded as a man, even by people on the street! Pastels, a stupid hat, a crop top, and facial hair was a winning combination.

On my way, I was stopped by some guys soliciting for charity. I don't make a habit of stopping for strangers on the streets of Manhattan. What if it's a scam? What if I'm being pressured to buy something? What if it's a strange political rant? But, I had already taken my earbuds off, I wasn't in a hurry, and I'm terminally polite. The first guy said he liked my energy, which seemed to come from a genuine place, because I liked his too!

They were asking for donations for a breast cancer charity, the United Breast Cancer Foundation. After a discussion, it seems like the charity helps pay medical debt, medical bills, and other practical needs, which is much better than *some* others I could name. I regretted not being able to give their minimum there, as it was pretty high, but told them I'd give what I could when I got on the website.

I... did not. Money is tight, because I'm bad and irresponsible with money, even though this is more than a worthy cause. I didn't NEED to go to that tea place, and I don't NEED to spend so much money on food. Sure, I can justify it: I wanted to go to that place for so long, and it was near the college anyway! But, if I was responsible with money, you KNOW my friends direct fundraising drives would go first, worthy charities second. Still, I feel bad about it.

Then, I went to the college library, to get books to start my thesis research. I have literally been unable to go to the college itself, aside from getting my ID, so this was great! There just wasn't a reason. It was... very empty. I went to the library stacks, which was deathly quiet and deeply haunted by the old books. I half expected something to pop out at me, as I turned the stacks, but I wasn't even paranoid or anxious. It was like I was in something else's house. I was welcome, but on thin ice.

I picked up an irrelevant psychology book on the "schizophrenia problem" from the 1930s, out of morbid fascination, and quickly put it down when it threatened to shatter in my hands.

Some students walked past (which was a suprise in those monastic basement library stacks), and I added something to their conversation, in a totally natural and casual way. But, omg the poor girls, I made them jump! Luckily, I'm the least threatening person on earth, and we laughed it off.

After a lot of hunting, I got 5 out of my 10 books (for the most part)! (The rest are, sadly, online. I like to read physical copies.) Strangely, I only came in with a list to get 3 books out of 6.

Most of the books I got are about art in the AIDS crisis, which is the core of my thesis, I think, all with different value. One about exhibitions, one about the larger narrative of those gay artists, and another contradicting the larger narrative.

I also got a book about "Art and Homosexuality". Just, the parallel construction of both "art" and "homosexuality" across cultures and times, from earliest history to the modern age. It wasn't on my initial list, but I'm really excited to read it.

Finally, I got a book called "The Thief, the Cross and the Wheel", about the pain and spectacle of punishment in Medieval and Renaissance European art. I'm mainly interested in Italian Renaissance art of the crucifixion--and its masochism--for the second quarter of my thesis.

The rest are online, and Should mostly focus on Bacchus in the Italian Renaissance (especially through art) and what I call the art of "gay liberation", concurrent with the AIDS crisis (i.e. The Cockettes). These two topics make up the last half of my thesis.

I'm SO excited to get started!!

I even got to cross the college's sky-bridges! (The college is a few skyscrapers.) Still, the loneliness and novelty were kind of the same thought. Imagine if I had been here before COVID, or, if COVID hadn't happened. Who would I have been able to meet? What would the college buildings mean to me? Because, for now, they're just buildings. But, I got to see the street from above, and that was amazing!

Just walking through New York--the Upper East Side--on a cool, sunny day was beautiful. It takes 20-30 minutes to get from my place to the college (and the tea place), but it was great being able to listen to my music (a lot of They Might Be Giants on the playlist today) and see the city. You know, people, super cool old architecture being pushed out by terrible new architecture, and pigeons.

Oh my god, the pigeons. I took pictures, but none of them are good. I kept thinking about how pigeons and doves are functionally the same. We domesticated pigeons, which is why they're here, and no one is stopping to notice them? Even the ones that were splotched with pure white, like doves? There's only so many pigeons you can take until they're just white noise and a nuisance, I know, so don't think I'm blaming anyone! But it's so hard to look away from these quirky little birds.

Also, at one point my walk, I was vaping very strategicly. The mental task of searching through library stacks will do that to you, when you already have an addiction to nicotine. I made sure no one was around, and no one would be affected. I stopped on a corner next to an old, ornate Catholic church while the traffic light changed, and I almost juuled right next to a priest! I'm glad I stopped. I don't believe in Hell, but, I would have walked down there myself had I vaped at a priest. Still, the church advertised itself as LGBT+ friendly, so maybe they aren't so trigger happy on the damnation. Either way, I DIDN'T vape at a priest today, which is good.

Once I got back, I spent a few hours watching things with my amazing girlfriend Chloe, who you may know here as @cisphobiccommunistopinions. She is so beautiful, and I love her more every day, every time I see her. God, it's almost been 5 years!

I just wish I could spend more time with her. She's in Virginia, and I'm in New York. Like she said to me earlier, I'm flighty at the best of times, and, with my lack of object permanence for the digital world, I find myself not giving her the attention I deserve, or, the full connection I long to have with her. We used to live together. Luckily, someday we will live together again! All these problems won't be forever, and we can live together again.

We watched a lot of things, but we're pretty deep into Serial Experiments Lain right now. It's a postmodern anime from the 90s, and, wow, do I have no idea what's going on in it. It's about the internet, and potentially schizophrenia as well. However, I'm obsessed! One day I'll be able to crack this artistic code, and it's unreality, thematic knots, and double-meanings. I will probably understand it better on the second watch. I don't see myself in Lain, but I see my 14 year old self in her, when I had just developed schizophrenia. Her cyberpunk fate seems like it's railroaded towards tragedy, but I want to save her, even if it's silly and irrational.

I told Chloe that I was scared about spilling apple cider on my library books, and she referred to it as "The Great Apple Juice Disaster of September 11, 2021." To which I said that it was the second worst thing to happen in New York on that date. It was funnier if you were there, and also were in my brain at the time.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm meeting some online acquaintances from the college's "Queer Srudent Union" at a Japanese Culture Fair in a park. (I do not know which park.) It emphasizes "fun"! I don't know them very well, but they're friends with the one person I know irl, so it should be good.

Tomorrow night, I should Probably head downtown to check out a gallery show by MFA (masters of fine arts) students at Hunter! After all, I was in a group project with one of them, and they're absolutely brilliant. I missed the Thursday gallery opening by a landslide, because of the aforementioned lack of adhd meds and Being Asleep, which I infinitely regret. I could have listened to all the artists and curators talk about their art and exhibition! Maybe I could have even talked with the artists and curators. But, it's best for me to go sooner, rather than later, so I don't forget. And, I REALLY want to go.

It's "This dialogue which happened to be present in all other dialogues" at the Alyssa Davis Gallery. From the email I got, "Each of these works observes a threshold of transition. [...] [These] intimations [are] of a frame of mind shared by the artists. These works perform, record, access, engage, document, and entrap, embalming the viewer within the gallery space."

sgp is a really good artist, by the way. Their work is just next-level. Be sure to check out their art, if you have a chance. Let me link their portfolio: https://saragracepowell.com/

(I highly suspect spg and the other member of my group project ghosted me afterwards, but I understand. I was really in over my head. Still, they're both really sweet and kind people, don't get it twisted!)

I ALSO really want to see The Cake Boys. They're performing at the 3 Dollar Bill in Brooklyn on September 26th. (It's only $15!) They're the only all drag king collective in NYC! (Are... there any Other all drag king collectives out there?) Other than the fact that a lot of them are trans or nonbinary, which I love, this show is a totally non-judgmental competition for over 40 drag kings! I've heard their shows are hilarious and unique.

I just have to wait until I have $15 to spare. I... didn't eat dinner tonight, because I'm irresponsible with my money and don't want to ask my parents for money... again. Don't worry, it's literally fine, and I don't make a habit of doing this!

Which reminds me! For my birthday, my parents gave me a gift card to Lush! I'm definitely going to Lush tomorrow, which will be great. I would describe my personality as "Lush store employee acosting you about a bath bomb demonstration", so I'll fit right in.

I also made a transition timeline, to show how much I've changed on testosterone. For the better, I hope! I really believe I'm becoming, if not Have Become, the man I was always meant to be. It's so strange to look back at who I was not too long ago, and to know the absolute pain I was in. It's also strange, in a good way, to see the man looking back at me in the selfies. I'm so much happier now! Much more candid in my pictures, at least. But, I know that I'm so much more comfortable as myself than I was even 6 months ago. It's strange. Sometimes I think to myself, "I don't pass yet; I'm not who I Need To Be yet." Then, I look at my selfie from today, and... I'm THERE. My mind just hasn't caught up with my amazing, natural, normal reality.

The end. I have to get ready for bed, (even though I could be partying on a Saturday night in the city. I'm lame.) If you actually read this, I am kissing you on the mouth right now. I hope it made you calm down tonight, like a terrible bedtime story. If you didn't read it and just skipped to the end, don't worry: you did the rational thing.

#long post #diary entry

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

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Best Part of Me -Chapter 93

Warnings: mention of depression, anxiety, PTSD

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

“It’s your lucky day handsome.”

Julie waits until he deposits his phone on the bedside table before greeting him. It’s been her ‘pet name’ for him since day one; a hazy recollection of her calling him that during a brief moment of consciousness that first night in the ICU. A blanket straight from the warmer in the hall being placed over him and a damp face cloth being pressed against his face; clearing away any and all remnants of dried blood. A palm resting on his cheek and his head being ever so gently turned sideways; his eyelids heavy and vision blurry, barely able to make out the soft, kind face regarding him. He remembers trying to speak; tongue feeling thick and throat painfully dry and only managing to get out on intelligible word: water. She had smiled at that, and the hand on his face moved to the back of his neck as the other was placed under his chin; catching any spills as she helped him drink ice water through a straw. He’d been unable to sort all the pieces and put them together; brain muddled and foggy as he tried to figure out just what happened, where he was, and how he’d gotten there. But he remembers -even through the flood of powerful painkillers and sedation being pumped into him- the panic that he'd felt. Asking where his wife was and being terrified that he’d be told she was dead; that his entire family was gone. The nurse’s voice soothing as she comforted him; assuring him that Esme was fine and had just stepped out of the room and would be back in ‘two shakes of a lamb’s tail’. Then that warm, soothing sensation had returned; that cloth against his forehead and one of the older woman’s hands gripping his. Exhaustion returning hard and fast; aided by the amount of meds being continuously run through his battered and broken body.

“You mean I don’t have to have a tube in my dick anymore?”

A grin plays on her mouth. “Okay, so maybe not THAT lucky.”

“When DOES that day come?”

“When you get your legs back under you.”

“You mean when I can actually feel them again?”

Julie nods.

“And when is that gonna be?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Wouldn’t you if you’ve spent a week hooked up to all this shit?” He nods down at the central line inserted in his chest; clear tubing leading to a morphine pump and an IV pole. “Seven days of pissing into a bag and having strangers poking and prodding at you all the time”

“We’re hardly strangers anymore, blue eyes. We’re on a first name basis, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know; you never call me by mine. You’re always calling me these cute little names.”

Well maybe I find you cute. Even in all your grumpy glory. I’m old enough to be your mother, you know.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Bless your beautiful little heart. But as much as I appreciate you feeding my ego, all the sweet talking in the world won’t save you from being poked and prodded at.”

He sighs. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really like people touching me.”

“You have a lot of kids for a guy that doesn’t like to be touched,” Julie teases.

“She’s the exception. It’s nothing personal against you. I just don’t like people getting that close. And I especially don’t like hospitals.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time avoiding them, huh? I can tell by some of the scars you’ve got going on there. You’re used to just patching yourself and getting back into the fight.”

“Pretty much. Too bad I couldn’t do that this time. Wish it was that simple; digging a bullet out or sewing myself up. This is a little beyond that.”

“Just a little. How’ve you been feeling today?”

“Alright, I guess.”

“You guess? What’s going on? Pain?”

“A little. My back’s been bugging me but it’s pretty tame compared to what I’m used to.”

“Any headaches?” she asks, as she tends to checking his blood pressure and temperature. “Blurred vision? How about unusual grogginess or memory issues?”

“You ask me this every day,” Tyler grumbles.

“And every day, I tell you the same thing. That there’s always a chance of that pesky skull fracture causing issues. So…?”

“Nothing. No headaches, no dizziness, now eye problems. And I already told you about my brain; I have memory issues to begin with. Permanent ones.”

“From the last time you were here.”

He nods. “My short term memory is fucked. It’s a brain injury. Or so I was told. From when I coded. Twice. Not enough oxygen going to my head screwed things up.”

“Must get frustrating.”

“It’s not as bad as it used to be. I’m not as forgetful as I was a few years ago, that’s for sure. But yeah, it pisses me off; when I can’t remember things. If I can’t remember what I did ten minutes or I have to ask my wife the same questions over and over again because I don’t remember what she said the first five times.”

“What happens when you get pissed off?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you deal with it?”

“A lot better than I used to, that’s for sure. Back when I used to drink a lot and I’d flip my shit and punch a hole or in a wall or freak out on everyone in the house. Now I just go and work out or go surfing or for a hike and that’s it. I feel better by the time I get back.”

“It makes you angry? When you have to ask the same things over and over again?”

“Not angry, really. It just annoys me. I guess it makes me a bit worried too.”

“Worried? About your brain or….?”

“Worried that I’m annoying her. That I’m just some messed up basket case adding more shit to her plate. That I’m just another kid she has to take care of. A burden.”

“I highly doubt she thinks those things.”

“I know she doesn’t. She’s never made me feel that way. It’s just that I worry about it. That one day she’s going to look at me and I’m going to see pity in her eyes. And I don’t ever want to see that. That would kill me. If she started looking at me that way.”

“I don’t see that ever happening. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and it’s definitely not pity in those pretty brown eyes.”

“I just hate what this is all doing to her. Especially right now. Being pregnant; trying to grow a human being, keep it alive. And I hate that it’s taken her away from the other kids. That I’VE taken her away from them.”

“I doubt she sees it that way.”

“I hate that she has to take care of me. Has to feed me and wash my hair and my face and all that shit. And before you say it, no, I don’t want someone else doing it. I just wish she didn’t have to do it at all. I’m supposed to take care of her; it’s what I promised to do when we got married. For the rest of my life.”

“Didn’t those vows go both ways? I seem to remember it going both ways when I got married.”

“I’m the guy. I’m supposed to take care of her.”

Julie smirks. “She warned me about that. Your toxic masculinity bullshit.”

“Are you supposed to swear in front of your patients?”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

He grins. “No.”

“You really need to stop that, you know,” she gently scolds. “Thinking that way. Thinking it’s your duty to protect and provide and that she’s some weak little creature that you have to coddle. Because if this last week has shown anything, it’s that she is definitely weak. Little, yes. But not weak.”

“Believe me, I don’t see her that way. At all. She’s the strongest, toughest person I’ve ever met. I know what she’s capable of. I saw it...I experienced it...first hand seven years ago. It’s not that I feel like I have to protect her. I WANT to protect her. Especially with the life we have. The things I do. The toes I step on and the bridges I burn. I NEED to protect her. And those kids.”

“Have you ever thought of getting out of that kind of life? So you won’t have to worry about things like that? Wouldn’t it be nice if you never had to worry about any of that ever again?”

“I don’t have that option. Of getting into another line of work.”

“Everyone has that option.”

“All I know is being a soldier and being a merc. That’s it. That’s my life in a nutshell. Those two things are all I know. And it’s not like I can go back to the military. I’m too fucking torn up and too damn old. And I’ve got a family to take care. One that’s going to get even bigger very soon.”

“Something tells me this is less about you needing money to put a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, and more about YOU. Your personality. You’re the type that’s not mean to sit still for too long. You get bored easily. And then you start feeling like you’re stuck and you start to resent things. People. Even though you don’t mean to.”

“Since when did you become a shrink?”

“I read people. I always have. There’s an edge to you. One that says you’re a man that needs that danger. That adrenaline rush. That you’re not happy unless you’re getting those things.”

Tyler smirks. “How about you just stick to taking my temperature and my blood pressure and shit. If I wanted my head read, I’d go to a professional.”

“Is that something you want? Someone to talk to you.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Someone other than me. Someone who has experience with people like you.”

“Crazy people you mean.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. You’re not crazy. You have mental health issues, yes. But you’re not crazy. Do you feel like you are? Or that you’re heading that way?”

“I think YOU’RE starting to ask too many questions. Are you like this with all your patients or…?”

“You’re the only who is conscious and can carry on a conversation.”

“Maybe we should pretend I’m unconscious again.”

“You don’t like talking about these kinds of things, do you. About what’s going on in your brain.”

“There’s nothing going on up there. That’s the problem.”

“I think there’s more going on up there than you want to admit. You’ve been through a hell of an ordeal. You’re going through it. You’re going to be going through it for quite a while. So how about you make it easier on yourself and not add more to YOUR plate.”

“I’ll be fine. Mentally.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“I will,” Tyler insists.

“I think it would do you some good. To talk to someone. Someone that has experience with people with PTSD. Someone that…”

“I think this conversation is done.”

“You know you’re only causing yourself more harm than good, right? That the longer you keep all that inside, the worse it’s going to be. You’re going to crash and you’re going to crash hard. And you’ll take it out on the people around you. The people that you love. That love YOU. Is that what you want? You want to get to that point? Where it’s your wife and your kids bearing the brunt of it.”

“Do you WANT me to ask for another nurse?”

“She’s worried about you.”

“Well she needs to stop. I’ll be fine. Once I’m out of Dhaka and I’m back home and I’m closer to my kids, I’ll be fine. That’s all it is. Homesickness. I just want the fuck out of here. I want to see my children.”

Julie perches herself on the edge of the bed and places a hand on his shoulder. “What if I told you that the only way you’re getting out of here is putting in so many hours. with a psychiatrist?”

“What if I told you AND the psychiatrist to fuck off?”

“The neurologist put it in your file. That the only way you’ll be released and sent home is if you log so many hours with one of your therapists.”

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “You’re kidding me, right? This is your way of tricking me into talking to someone.”

“There’s no tricks. I am telling you the truth. I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Why? Because you think we’re friends? You’re just someone that comes in and changes my piss bag and would wipe my ass if it had to be done. That’s it. We’re not friends. This is your job, right? Why do you give a shit about me? Who gives a fuck if I talk to a shrink? Just do what you’re supposed to do so I can get the hell out of here and go home.”

“You have a good life. You have someone that loves you and worries about you and wants you around for the long haul. You have five...soon to be six...beautiful children that adore you and need you. Don’t you want to be healthy? For them?”

“Of course I do. So help fix my fucking body so I can go home!”

“Calm down. You need to take a breath and calm down and…”

“Don’t fucking tell me calm down!” he snarls, and tears the blood pressure cuff off his arm and tosses it aside. “Don’t ever talk to me like that. No one talks to me like that.”

“If you don’t settle down, we’ll give you something to settle you down. Is that what you want? You want us to sedate you?”

“I want another nurse.”

“You can’t have another nurse. You’re not in charge of your care. You’re not the one making the decisions. Your wife is.”

“Then get her over here.”

“She’s taking a break,” Julie attempts to reason. “She NEEDS a break. You said it yourself; she’s trying to grow a human being and she doesn’t need anything else on her plate.”

“Don’t use my words against me. Don’t do that. That’s my wife. And I want her here. If she’s the one making all the decisions, then I want her here. I want to talk to her.”

“Then call her on the phone and talk to her that way. She doesn’t need to be getting a baby up and…”

“Get my wife here! I want her here! Now!”

“Okay…” Julie holds her hands up in surrender and slides off the bed. “...I’m going to go and call her, alright? I’m going to go to the nurses station and give her a ring and hopefully by the time I get back, you’ll have managed to calm yourself down.”

“I don’t want you coming back in there. Ever. Just get my wife. That’s who I want here. Not you, not any of your fucking people. Just her.”

“We’re here to help you, Tyler. That’s all we want. Just to help you. If you’d just let us…”

“Fuck your help!” He rages, wrapping his fingers around the tubing that leads into the port in his chest and yanking it clear out of his body. Oblivious to both the blood and the pain that accompanies the violent action; the burning sensation that begins at the original point of entry and travels down the entire left side of his body. “I don’t need your fucking help! Get my wife! Now!”

Julie simply nods in agreement, then slips from the room and closes the door behind her.

*****

She meets Andy at the front entrance of the hospital; handing him both Addie and the key card for his room before heading inside. She’d already been asleep when Julie had called; still clad in the hotel bathrobe and a protective hand resting on Addie as she dozed as well. She hadn’t been given specifics; simply told there’d been an incident and that it couldn’t be resolved entirely until she got there. Panic had immediately set in. Worst fears grabbing a hold of her as she quickly threw on a pair of sweats and t-shirt; not even bothering with a bra or underwear and shoving her bare feet into her sneakers and tossing her hair up into a sloppy ponytail. All she could think about was what could have possibly gone wrong; the start of swelling on the brain due to the skull fracture, infection in one of the surgical sites, an unforeseen complication with his back or legs. The trip in the elevator seems to take forever. Nervously swaying side to side with still sleeping Addie clutched tightly to her; anxiety and fear clutching at her chest and causing nervous, unsettled fluttering in her stomach, eyes never leaving the illuminated numbers above the door as she mentally counted down each floor.

It had been Andy that had given her some sort of comfort. Assuring her that nothing was wrong; at least not physically. But there had been an ‘issue’; a nurse mentioning the need for a psychiatric assessment and suggestion of an emotional breakdown and mental problems far beyond the realm of what staff in ICU were used to dealing with. She’s genuinely surprised it took this long for things to boil over. The warning signs had been there. The panic attacks that occurred even after the disorientation and confusion passed, the shockingly abrupt changes in his moods; from happy and joking around and carrying on a pleasant conversation to severely depressed and emotional beyond all hope of comfort. In the blink of an eye become angry and volatile; saying hurtful, cutting things and appearing mere inches away from flying into fits of rage.

She’s seen him that severe only twice before; all attempts at getting him help failing and being ignored and winding up with him putting a gun in his mouth with all intent of killing himself. She’d thought this time would be different; help would be easier to get if he was already in a hospital receiving care. But the specialists had pushed the initial worries aside, saying the up and down moods were simply due to suffering trauma and being immersed in a situation he had no control over. That the panic attacks were just a ‘side effect’ of either the confusion caused by meds or the PTSD being triggered by being in a hospital. No one had taken it seriously; brushing it off as a ‘non concern’ and telling her that she was overreacting; nothing more than a worried, scared spouse in way over her head.

Julie had been her last resort. The one chance of getting him even the smallest bit of help before things got to the point of no return. And now even THAT’S failed.

She’s angry. Not at him. NEVER at him. What’s happening to his already vulnerable and battered mind way beyond his control; the bouts of severe -almost manic- depression, the PTSD induced panic attacks, the hurtful things that come out of his mouth when he’s in a tailspin. The anger is reserved for everyone throughout the years -throughout his entire life, for that matter- that has contributed to where he is now. Physically AND mentally. His father for a childhood filled with abuse and inhumane torment, the horrors of war he’d experienced during multiple deployments in the Middle East, the injuries suffered on the job that have lead to years of chronic, near crippling (on some days) pain, the multitude of medical professionals that -instead of listening to her fears and worries- simply threw more and more meds at him instead of attempting to find real solutions. Even the stint in the psych ward had only scratched the surface; a small bit of help that had only come because he’d been so close -perhaps just minutes- from taking his own life.

“What the hell happened?” She can no longer hide the irritation or the disappointment. Past being tactful and polite. The last seven days have been pure and utter hell, and she’s tired of it being one step forward and ten steps back. And she doesn’t even feel the least bit apologetic when she sees the way Julie blinks at the harshness in her voice.

“I didn’t want to call you. It was the last thing I wanted to do. I knew you needed a break and I know you’re exhausted. You’re worn out and you’re stressed and you needed to get some rest. But he wouldn’t calm down and the only person he wants to talk to is you. If there’d been anyone else to call…”

“He’s my husband. I don’t care if you have to call me at three in the morning. He’s all that matters right now. And I don’t understand what could have happened in such a short period of time. I just got off the phone with him; he told me you were in the room. What the hell could have gone so wrong? When I was on the phone with him, he was fine. Considering. He sounded like Tyler; he was joking around and he was teasing me and he was fine. What the fuck?”

“I may have pushed him too far.”

“Too far doing what? What could you have been doing that you went too far with? He was fine. Until you got in the room. What did you do to him?”

“We were talking. I was trying to get a pulse on how he was feeling. Mentally, speaking. And it was going well; we were having a calm and rational conversation.”

“Tyler doesn’t just freak out. He needs a reason. Or his brain needs a reason, I should say. He’s not going to go just go from calm and rational to off the reservation. That’s not him. Not even on his worst mental health days. What did you say to him?”

“I may have overstepped.”

“Overstepped how? What did you say to him? And don’t lie to me. Because he will remember and he will tell me. And I’d rather you be the one to do it. Be honest with me. What did you do to him?”

“I mentioned that the neurologist wasn’t going to send him home if he didn’t log so many hours with a psychiatrist or a therapist.”

“Why would you tell him that? It’s not true. They haven’t said anything like that and I sure as hell would not agree to that. I said I wanted someone to see him; I didn’t say they had a right to force him to be here. I just wanted them to talk to him, that’s it. I didn’t want them holding them hostage until he played by their rules. That’s bullshit and you know it. That’s not what we agreed to. I didn’t say to lie to him. Why would you do that?”

“I was hoping I could convince him. To willingly talk to someone. To take some of the pressure off of you. I know you’re exhausted; mentally and physically. I know…”

“Your job is to take care of HIM. Tyler is all that matters to me right now. I trusted you. And you turned around and you lied to him? You tried to scare him into submitting to therapy? That is beyond fucked up. That you’d lie to him like that.”

“It gets worse.”

“How much worse?”

“I’m not proud of the route I took. Believe me, I’m not.”

Esme’s eyes narrow, arms crossing over her chest. “What did you do?”

“I used you and the kids. I told him that he was going to crash and crash hard. And that when he did, he’d hurt the people closest to him. That love him. That you and the little ones would be the ones to bear the brunt and pay the price. And why would he want to do that? Hurt all of you like that.”

“That is one of his worst fears. Losing his mind and hurting me or the kids. I told you that. That he’s scared of that. And you used that? You used US? To try and coerce him into talking to a shrink? You thought hurting him even more was the best to handle things?”

“Esme, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would turn this bad. I didn’t know he snap THAT bad.”

“I could have told you what a bad idea it was; to bring me and the kids into things. Why would you go behind my back and do this? Lie to him and try to force him into therapy? Use the threat of not being able to go home? You know how desperate he is to go home and see his kids. And you use that against him?”

“I didn’t think it would affect him this bad. I didn’t…”

“That’s exactly it. You didn’t think. I told you that he’d talk to someone if I was with him. You just had to arrange that. You didn’t have to lie to him and scare him into something. All you had to do was find someone that could help him. This? What you did? That is not helping! It made it worse. It made HIM worse!”

“And I’m sorry. I really am. I am so sorry.”

“How bad did he get?”

“Ripped out the central line; we had to put a couple stitches in to close things up. Took five people to hold him down to get a regular IV in. We were going to restrain him, but…”

“That would have made things so much worse. Do you WANT him to have a psychotic break? Because that would have done it.”

Julie frowns. “Of course that’s not what I want.”

“How is he now?”

“Calm. We gave him a light sedative through the IV line. We were waiting until you got here. To discuss what our next step should be.”

“There is no next step. At least not tonight,” Esme steps past the older woman, shoulder aggressively bumping into her. “I don’t want anyone going in his room. Not you, not another nurse. No one.”

“You think it’s safe for you to go in?” Julie follows as she strides quickly and purposefully through the ICU’s sliding doors and down the main hell. “He was violent with staff.”

“Tyler isn’t going to hurt me. He’s never hurt me. Not even at his worst. I’m not scared of him. I never have been.”

“There’s always a first time. And in your condition…”

“My husband would never EVER do anything to me. I have seen him in the darkest, most terrifying place possible. When I had to take a gun out of his hand so he wouldn’t kill himself. Not even then did he hurt me. He doesn’t have it in him. Not even when he’s like this.”

“If it comes down to it and he does act up again and threatens to hurt you…”

“He’s not going to. I’ve spent years with that man. And I’ve gone through hell and back with him many times. And I have never once felt threatened by him.”

“...we’ll have to take more severe measures. To control him.”

Esme pauses in front of the closed door to Tyler’s room. “Control him? He’s not a fucking animal. So don’t you dare talk about him like he is. He’s a goddamn human being!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t…”

“He’s scared and he’s in pain and he’s had decades of bullshit dumped onto him. His father, fighting in wars and having to see things and do things that only exist in your worst nightmares, the job and all the crap that comes with it. Just because he isn’t like everyone else in here...doesn’t have what you think is a normal, respectable life...doesn’t mean you can talk about him like that. No one...and I mean no one...disrespects my husband like that.”

“I meant control as in a medical standpoint. As in…”

“I don’t give a shit how you meant it. You have no idea what he’s been through. The things that have been done to him. And I’m not just talking now. I’m talking about his entire life. None of you in here could ever understand it and you sure as hell could never survive it yourself.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“I don’t want anyone coming into his room unless I need help or I say it’s okay. Do I make myself clear?”

“Esme, I…”

“Do I make myself clear?” she forcibly repeats, and then waits for a simple nod in confirmation before slipping into the room. Struggling not to slam the door angrily behind her.

***

The room is illuminated solely by the moonlight streaming through the window, and at first she wonders if she’s too late and he’s already fallen asleep; succumbing to whatever drug they had forced into him. His head turned away from her; his profile soft and peaceful, even with the rows of scars and the numerous bruises and superficial wounds that mar his face. Breathing slow and steady; hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. Regardless, she errs on the side of caution; not wishing to startle him by ‘sneaking up’.

“Hey sleeping beauty, ” her voice is calm and quiet as she approaches the bed. “You awake or…?”

The sigh is long and shaky, but there’s a small, soft smile on his face when he turns his head towards her. "I’m awake.”

“How are you feeling?” She puts down the railing on the bed in order to get closer to him, then pushes her hand through his hair and presses a kiss to his temple. “I heard you caused a little bit of drama earlier.”

“Just a bit.”

His voice is unusually soft and quiet; mentally and physically exhausted tinted with sleep and the effects of the sedation he’d been given. But it’s his face that hurts the most; not the bruises or the swelling or the soon to be removed stitches. She’s seen him in worse condition; in a medically induced coma with a breathing tube down his throat and wound vac attempting to heal the bullet hole on the side of his neck. It’s how lost he looks; so scared and vulnerable. As if he’s already admitted defeat.

“Are you okay now? Are you feeling better?”

“Now that you’re here I am.”

“Sweet talker,” she chides, laying a hand on his cheek and placing a tender kiss on his lips.

“I was wondering if you’d even show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“They told me they weren’t even going to call you. That you told them not to.”

“You believed them?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. My heart knows one thing, but my brain is telling me something else.”

“I would never, EVER, tell them that. Not when it comes to you. I don’t know why they would say that, but it’s not true. All I care about is how you’re doing. Of course I’d want to know if something happened. Are you okay now?”

“I wanna go home.”

“I know you do. And I want that too, believe me. That’s all I do want. You well enough to get the hell out of here.”

“Is it true? That they won’t let me go home if I don’t see a shrink? Do so many hours with me? Is it true you were okay with that?”

“No Tyler, that’s not true. None of that is true. I’d never do that to you. I wanted them to get you help. Sooner, not later. But I didn’t agree to any of that. That was never brought up to me, and I’d never be okay with it. I don’t know why they would say that to you, but it’s not true. You believe me, right?”

He nods. “I believe you. You have to find a way. To get me home. I need to go home.”

“I can’t just do that. I can’t just tell them that’s what I want. It’s not that easy, baby. I wish it was.”

“You’re in charge, right? Of what happens to me? What they can do?”

Esme nods.

“You need to find a way. Please. You have to.”

“Okay,” she agrees, and presses a series of soft pecks across his forehead and over his eyes, down his nose and then onto his lips. “I’ll find a way. I promise. First thing in the morning, okay? There’s nothing I can do tonight.”

“You’ll stay? With me?”

“Of course I will. Where else would I go?”

“Where’s Addie?”

“Andy took her back to the hotel. He’ll bring her in the morning so you can spend some time with her. Sound good?”

He nods. “Sounds good.”

“For now, why don’t we get you out of this?” She tugs at the blood stained hospital gown. “That’s the least they could have done; got you into something clean. I brought some t-shirts yesterday; I figured once you got a regular IV, you’d rather wear real clothes.”

“I already got the stupid thing in me,” he nods down at his left hand; layers of tape holding the IV in place.

“Did you forget?” She lightly tousels his hair and moves away from the bed; journeying over to the small closet on the far side of the room. “ I know how to disconnect it. The home care nurse showed me; after our first trip to Dhaka.”

“Are you supposed to be disconnecting it?”

“Are you going to tell on me?” she asks, and then selects a well worn and faded t-shirt from a backpack she’d stored in the closet the day before.

He manages a grin. “I’m no snitch.”

“I even brought your favourite one,” she says, and holds the item in question by the shoulders, turning it to face him. Maroon in color, with Emery surfboards name and logo emblazoned in black across the front.

His smile, although still sleepy, is much broader now. “That’s the one you and Millie got me. For my first Father’s Day.”

“This thing has seen better days. It’s got holes and it’s frayed all around the neck and the sleeves. Not to mention five babies have all drooled and puked up on it. It’s practically even see through.”

“You were still pregnant with the twins. Big time pregnant.”

“That’s what I get for having babies with a giant.”

“You were so beautiful. You always are. With every baby.”

“You are so smooth,” she teases, and leans down to press to a kiss to his lips. “Even when you’re doped up.”

“It’s true. You are. Most beautiful pregnant woman ever. Most beautiful woman PERIOD.”

She grins. “You’re laying it on pretty thick, Mister Rake. What have you done?”

“Threatened to kill a few people.”

“Well you didn’t follow through on it and that’s all that matters. Maybe now they’ll realize that sometimes your bite IS worse than your bark. It’s what they get, if you ask me; for not listening to a damn word I said. Hold this…” she playfully tosses the tee on top of his head, then tends to disconnecting the IV and med lines and sealing them off with the discarded caps sitting on the nightstand.

He peels the shirt from his face. “She just kept pushing and pushing. She wouldn’t let it go. The whole thing about the shrink and why didn’t I want to do it? Why would I just keep being this way and then eventually snap and take it out on you and the kids?”

“She thought was handling it the right way. I guess she thought scaring you into agreeing was the right way to go. And I’m sorry. That she said those things. I never told her to say any of that.”

“I know you didn’t. That’s not you. Saying shit like that. That’s not who you are. You love me too much.”

“Oh you’re finally admitting that are you? Only took you seven years. Your arm going to be okay? Getting a shirt on?”

He nods. “I can’t feel a damn thing right now. That must be some good shit they’re giving me.”

“Some of the best there is.” She tends to the ties at the back of his neck, then removes the blood stained garment towards the hamper at the end of the bed. “Looks pretty good,” she says, as gentle fingertips gingerly examine the stitches -thirty five in total- that grace his left shoulder blade. “How’d you do that again?”

“Caught it on some metal. After someone tried to shoot me in the head.”

“I’ll take you being stitched up over THAT any day of the week.” She tugs the t-shirt over his head, then lends minimal assistance as he cautiously moves his arms into the holes on the sleeves; patiently waiting he completes the task himself before pulling the garment down over his chest and torso. “Better?”

“Better. You know, I kind of like you taking care of me.”

Esme grins. “Those MUST be some strong drugs. You admitting that.” She combs her fingers through his hair, placing a kiss to the bridge of his nose before resting her forehead against his. “Tired?”

“A little.”

“You should get some sleep. I know what you’re like after an episode. How exhausted you get.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I already said I would. You don’t have to worry; I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ever?”

“Ever,” she promises.

“I’m sorry,” his voice quivers with emotion.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

She pulls back to look at him. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

“It’s been a hell of a shitty seven years.”

“No. It hasn’t. It’s been a pretty amazing seven years. Your brain only wants you to remember the bad stuff. You’re not the horrible person it’s making you out to be, Tyler. You’ve never been that person. And I wish I knew what to do to get it to stop telling you those things. But you’re not the monster it says you are. And we’ve had more great times than really bad times. You’ve made me smile a lot more than you’ve made me cry.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“I am. And you helped make five beautiful, incredible little human beings. You’re an amazing daddy. And an even better husband. Your brain can’t take that all away. One day it won’t be telling you those things. I promise.”

“I don’t want to be this way.”

“I know you don’t. And once we’re home, we’ll get you help. Real help. But you have to work with me okay? You need to cooperate even just a little bit, alright?”

“Alright.”

“If I’m there, you’ll talk to someone?”

“If you’re there, I’ll do it.”

“I just want you to be okay. Not just your body, your brain too. All of you. And we’ll get you there. Even if it’s baby steps at first.”

“Why do you stay? With me? Why do you put up with all of this?”

“I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that a good enough reason? I love you. Simple as that.”

“Even when I want to die?”

“Do you? Want to die?”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“Is that what your brain is telling you? That you want to die?”

He nods.

She struggles to keep the emotion out of her voice. Throat impossibly tight. Heart breaking. “It’s telling you that right now?”

Another nod.

“You need to fight that, okay? You need to ignore that voice that’s telling you that.”

“You’d be better off. You and the kids. Without me.”

“No. We wouldn’t. Life suck without you in it,” she holds his face in her hands, placing her lips against his forehead. “You are so loved, Tyler. You are so loved and we would miss you so much. I don’t want to do this without you. Raise these kids. Especially with a new baby on the way. And I know you want to see that baby. How much you want to see all your babies grow. So you need to ignore that voice. The one that’s telling you all of this.”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “It’s so fucking hard.”

“I know,” she pecks his lips. “But we’ll get you through this. I promise. You don’t have to do this alone. But right now, you need to rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll even rest with you. You promise you’re not a snitch?”

“I promise.”

Kissing him once again, she toes off her running shoes, then turns off the light behind the bed before putting the railing down. “This is the one time I’m glad you’re a human furnace,” she says, as she slides in next to him, careful to mind the IV tubing. “There’s not enough blankets in this room . Just keep your damn cold feet to yourself.”

“Well I can’t really move the right, so…”

She moves onto her side, snuggling as tightly as she can into him, head on his chest and a hand on his stomach. “Good? You comfy?”

His hand finds the middle of her back. “Very.”

“If you snore, this might be night I smother you with your pillow,” she teases.

“I’ll try my best not to,” he promises. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, and tips her face up towards him for a goodnight kiss.

She relaxes under the weight of his chin upon her head, and finds herself comforted by the steady beat of his heart; feeling the way his body rises and falls with each breath and how his fingertips soothingly glide up and down her back. And she waits until she knows he’s asleep; those breaths becoming shallow and evening out, his hand stilling before falling limp at his side. It’s a small bit of normalcy; welcome and needed. And she nestles her face further into chest and closes her eyes.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan ficiton #Extraction fan fiction

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ilguna · 4 years ago

Text

Ethereal - Chapter One (f.o)

Summary: Five years of watching your trainees die, you’re sick of it. She will prevail, she will win.

Word Count; 5.8k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

“(Y/n)! Reaping day!” The words ring out through the house. And instead of them settling gently, they stick in the air violently. The words echo through your head over and over.

Reed manages to forget annually that you have been awake longer than he has. That you could count the days and circle them on your calendar. He forgets that reaping day and the month that comes after seem to be the worst. Every single year.

You’ve been up since the sun peeked through your window. Knowing that you wouldn’t be sleeping lightly. Tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable spot to sleep the rest of the night in. Obviously it didn’t happen.

The second that the sun showed, it was a reason to get up and do anything but lay in bed for longer. But when you went to get ready, you froze in place. You don’t want to be here, and you don’t want to be out there either.

Despite this, you push yourself out of bed and gather your clothes. You leave your boots at the dresser, you’ll be back in your room after the shower. It’s nothing like what you use on the train every year, but it’s better than nothing. Making tubs of cold water every morning for reaping day had gotten old.

Now it’s warm water in a shower, still with a tub. You guys give baths to Alyssum still, even though she’s turning seven or eight this year. Too old to still be babied but you don’t want to let her go. Soon, she’ll be included in the reaping.

It’s not that much of a worry. She’s got the knot tying down. She likes to fish and cook the food when given the opportunity. It isn’t often because of how she likes to burn it so it ‘tastes better’. You teach her how to use a spear and throw knives as best as you can. The problem is, when she shows she’s eager to learn, you step back.

You’re worried that she’ll want to be placed into the games because she knows all of this cool stuff and wants to try it out. She’ll volunteer at first chance to be brought into the games so she can try. And because of this fear, you started to make Reed take over.

You should be doing it, because you were the ones in the games. But the idea of watching your future twelve year old sister get picked for the games is… it reminds you of when you were in. And the misfortune the kids from district twelve had. One of them by your own hand.

You can see him in her. Which frightens you, and hardly makes it possible to be around her. The nightmares that plague you are about if Alyssum was the boy and not her. What would you have done then? Beg and plead for her to come back?

Or watching someone else do it. Being the family back home that cries when their sibling dies. Having to stand up in front of the victors when they’re on their tour. Hating every part of them for killing your child but knowing that they wouldn’t have done it if they didn’t have the chance.

It’s not your fault. It’s not any of the victors fault. The Capitol runs this, President Snow runs this as a punishment that happened over seventy years ago. He’s punishing the generations as if any of you remember. The oldest person in your district doesn’t even remember it. They declare that you guys deserve it, but time is supposed to heal wounds. They just keep digging.

Once you’re done with your shower, dressed but still with wet hair, you open the door to see your sister, holding up some flowers, “Can you put them in my hair, please? They’re busy with food.”

And they probably don’t know what they’re doing with hair either. You nod, grabbing the brush and a couple of rubber bands as you take her into your room. She sits on the floor as you sit on the bed, being gentle with her hair. You mostly get some of it out of her face, braid a spot here or there in the back. Then, you place the flowers, securing them with bobby pins.

She’s excited when she sees that it’s done. A quick hug to you before she’s running out of your room, feet thumping against the floorboard loudly as she yells for Reed to see what you did to her hair.

You pull on your socks and shoes, sliding on your mother’s ring. When you stand, you see that you can move freely. The jeans aren’t as tight as you thought they would be. You haven’t bought new clothes just yet, even though you’ve been meaning to. Laurel stopped sending you clothes a while ago.

It’s probably because her fame stopped and it went right back to the district that had won after you. It’s like trends, the stylists that had designed for the victors clothes are famous for at least a year after. And then when the new games come around, there’s someone else to focus on.

In the bathroom you pull some of your hair out of your face but leave the rest down. Then, you go downstairs to where the others will be waiting at the table.

Blonde hair stops you.

“Finnick?” You ask, he turns and looks up, you’re still in the middle of the stairs, “What are you doing here?”

Time heals all wounds right? That’s what you said, and they had healed at least a little bit. You and Finnick are on speaking terms but seeing him is as rare as it was before. He barely makes it in time to be there for reaping day. Last year, you had mentored the boy and girl on the train all by yourself. Finnick was waiting at the Capitol to help but even then, he wasn’t around.

You’d like to think that it wasn’t your fault that they died because you and him are supposed to be working together. You tried your best with what you could do. Finnick didn’t pick up his part of it. A pair of teenagers and they had a good shot at winning. Smart, they picked up things quickly. They made friends and were sure to make allies immediately.

They died because they didn’t know how to do anything medical, exactly what Finnick was supposed to do. You sent them meds, to combat infection but they couldn’t stop the bleeding. Imagine how badly you were pulling out your hair watching them bleed to death.

“Here to escort you to the stage.” He smiles, but you don’t return it.

Five years later and he still seems to be in love with you. He still thinks he can win you back even though he’s still doing the same shit. Thankfully, he stopped promising he would change and finally came to terms with the fact that he won’t make the deadlines ever.

“And why do I have this pleasure?” You ask, heading over to the dining room, Reed looks up at you. There’s a silent question on whether or not you want him to get Finnick out of here. You don’t answer.

“I want to talk strategy.”

“We’re not in the games.” You mutter to him, fixing Alyssum’s flower before it falls out of her hair. She holds up a bobby pin for you to secure it. Then, you go and sit at your own spot at the table, “Joining us for breakfast?”

“I guess I will.” He says, and then moved to sit next to you.

Off to your right as usual.

It’s mostly quiet except for Alyssum’s occasional chatter. Your eyes are watching the clock, knowing that you’ll have to get there early to be on the stage. Your family doesn’t have to be awake this early, they just choose to do it so that you can eat together. After all, it is an especially hard day.

They stopped seeing you off at the stations after you asked them not to. You’d rather they help out around town or something. It’s not like you’re going to die or anything. You won’t be permanently staying in the Capitol either. Unlike Finnick, you don’t like the luxury that they insist on showing off.

You’d rather be where your heart is, where you grew up. You figured this out a couple of years ago, that Finnick didn’t come home because his heart isn’t here. You weren’t his family then, his family was dead and it was better to be in the Capitol than anywhere near where his family had died.

Even if he’s closer to Snow in the Capitol. Closer to the person that had killed that family. You promised to be the replacement, to allow your brothers be his, but he hadn’t taken it. He couldn’t stand to be in the district, which was why he chose to leave early. He hadn’t stuck around for the festivities for all that long because he was too close.

Finnick didn’t show up on the tour because he would have to face what he had done. The people of the Capitol think that he’s so great and strong and charming. When you’re carrying this heavy load for both him and you. You faced the families, you let him lean on you, you took those interviews, and pretended to be embarrassed when he presented love stories for you in front of the nation. You stand and watch as the kids get picked in the reaping, be the only one to mentor them, and get them sponsors and watch them die. You have to apologize to the families when you deliver them dead.

Finnick has been the damsel all along. And you hope that he’ll shape up to what he needs to be soon. These games, you’re keeping him right next to you no matter what it takes.

You might be irritated that it took him five years to show, but he needs to see that this is no job for one person. If you have to pretend to be in love with him, well shit is tough. Anything it’ll take for him to be around for every single part of it. From beginning to end.

“Finnick, we should go now.” You tell him, getting up from the tale. You’d finished all your food but it looks like Finnick had been taking his time.

“What—“ He begins, but you don’t listen.

“I’ll see you three in a bit, huh?” You tickle Alyssum a little bit and she squirms out of your arms.

“Happy hunger games.” Reed mutters bitterly, you laugh with Mox.

Before you go, Alyssum hops out of her seat to give you a hug and thank you for doing her hair again. And then, you and Finnick are out the door.

“Do you normally leave this early?” He asks after some bit of silence.

Of course he wouldn’t know anything about being on time for one of these. The second games you had mentored he showed up during the boys’ reaping, and that was the last you’d seen of him. It might have been shame that inspired him to not return for the past few years.

“Yes.” You tell him, starting for Mags’ house. Finnick completely misses this, and you catch his arm, yanking him with you, “Pay attention.”

You make him stay put out of her house and you go in. You don’t bother with knocking, because her door is always unlocked. There’s no point in locking it, no one would rob you guys. What is there to take besides meaningless statues? Hell, none of your money is actually in hand either. You have to go up to the District Four “office” building just to take out a portion of it.

Inside, Mags is sitting at the chair, drinking what looks like tea. She smiles and motions you over, holding up the same cup for you to taste. You take a small sip to please her, and you’re happy to taste something so sweet.

“That’s new.” You tell her, and she laughs. She finishes off the tea and you help her to her feet. She’s only getting older, which makes it harder for her to walk around and all of that.

She takes your arm, and the both of you begin to leave the house. However, you have to give her a little warning, because one would have done you good too. Mags doesn’t show it, but she’s irritated that Finnick had left you the job alone.

“Finnick is outside.” You tell her, “He says he’s here to mentor.”

She scowls slightly, and you laugh. You know exactly what she’s thinking. It’s the same you thought when you heard that he was going to help. How long will it last and does he actually mean it?

Once you reach the doorway, Finnick perks up and goes to help you. You hold your hand out, because you get her up and down these stairs multiple times a day. She doesn’t want to be carried, because she can do it on her own. She just wants a little help so she doesn’t slip.

The door is shut, and you have your arm there, her hand hovers over it as she takes it one step at a time. When you look up to see Finnick, there’s grief. He’s missed a lot, and in that time you were able to get to know Mags well enough to the point where you’d know when he can and can’t help.

She moves faster on regular ground, no longer needing your arm. She may walk faster than your average elderly, but you still had to leave early for her. You’ll have to walk Finnick through what it’s like to sit in those chairs. Proper and poise, there’s no time to be slouching.

Cameras will be on you guys. Watching and waiting to see if it’s any family member that gets picked. Luckily for you, your sister is still too young and brothers too old. Finnick doesn’t have any family to worry about and Mags never had any kids.

The cameras and people in the Capitol will be hoping for something dramatic, and you’ll be sure that Finnick doesn’t provide. He can stand tall and wave to the cameras because he’s the darling of the Capitol. But this is no show, this is a time for mourning.

At the stage is six chairs. The first two are for your governor and the district representative, Elysia. The next four are for the victors. First sits Mags, a gap for the guy who you still haven’t seen, you, and then Finnick. While you watch as the people file into where they’ll be standing, waiting to be picked, you explain how it’ll go to Finnick.

Reed, Mox and Alyssum show up at about the same time as Caspian and his family does. Alyssum is still on Reed’s shoulders and she waves to you when she sees you. You blow her a kiss, she pretends to grab it. Mox casually slides away, and you catch him meeting up with a girl. He knows you’re watching, so he disappears with her.

One the square is filled, the normal routine goes through. The anthem, the reminder, the speech from the governor. The introduction of Elysia, her wishing a happy hunger games and for the odds to be in everyone’s favor. Then she gives a small look to you specifically and you nod.

You and Elysia are on better terms now, she can sympathize with what you had to deal with. She knows you’re under a lot of stress during the hunger games so she keeps interactions light and to the point. She helps with sponsors, and shaping kids’ personalities.

Her hand plunged into the bowl, grabbing one off to the side. No matter what slip she grabs it’s always going to be a girl on the other end. There’s no right choice here, it’s just the matter of her accidentally picking a teenager rather than a kid.

She removes the tape, and then takes a deep breath as she leans towards the microphone, “Annie Cresta.”

The name echoes from the delay, your eyes sweep over the girls section. Hoping for a teenager, someone who’s tall and looks capable for what’s to come.

A girl in the sixteen section comes forward. You must have let out a breath of relief, because Finnick turns to look at you. You pay no attention, leaning forward, watching at how she walks up to the stage.

Definitely not proud, and surprised that she was picked. The couple seconds of delay of her realizing it was her name isn’t that big of a deal. She still came relatively quickly. At least she didn’t run like the kid in your first year. They were a lost hope and targeted immediately in the arena.

Annie’s most prominent feature is the red hair. She’s got bangs and it’s kinda long. The stylists will have a hay day when it comes to it. There’s so many different ways they’ll be able to style it.

She’s pretty, the Capitol will love her. Hopefully not enough to turn her into a prostitute like they did Finnick. If it weren’t for the fact that Snow had done that to him, then none of the problems would have happened. You and Finnick would be going five years strong.

She’s short though. You clear her very easily, Finnick will look like a giant next to her. Kinda muscular, it’s what you guys get for working with fish and wrangling them up all the time. She looks to be middle class almost—because that still unfortunately exists in District Four. You’d even be considered to be upper class, if it weren’t for the games then you’d still be between lower and middle.

You’ll be able to help her.

She reaches the stage quickly, accepting Elysia’s hand for help. Stops right behind the bowl, and you watch as she straightens up her back. One look at the little tv off to the side, you can see she isn’t going to cry. She looks serious. She looks like she’s going to pose a threat.

And then Elysia moves on to the boys. Digging her hand into the paper, she pulls out the one. Removed the tape, unfolds it, a moment to read, a deep breath to say and she leans forward.

“Marsh Milillio.” She reads the name easily, even though it sounds like the last name is complicated.

A brown haired boy lurches forward from the thirteen area. Your heart sinks in your chest, it’s too young of an age. He won’t survive past the first day unless Annie helps him in the arena.

The boy doesn’t even make it two steps before the, “I volunteer!” Is echoing through the air.

You and Finnick lean forward a bit more. Because this will be interesting. An older sibling, definitely. They look almost like twins except for the fact that he’s coming from the seventeen section. Tall, somewhat muscular. But he looks worried.

Marsh seems to reach for the boy who had volunteered for him. The boy pushes him away, back into his section as he continues to the stairs. This isn’t about glory, this is about looking tough and as if he doesn’t need them. You can take a bet right now that he’ll cry when he’s finally left alone with his brother and parents in the departing room.

Elysia is surprised, as are you. There haven’t been a ton of volunteers in your district. Careers, but not careers. It’s like the middle class, you suppose. But this time you’re somewhere between high and middle like district three, five, etc. The high class is obviously district one and two. Lower ones being ten, eleven, twelve and whatever else might fit into the category.

The boy gets on the stage, and he stands tall with his shoulders back. Both very capable tributes it seems, the older ones seem to understand that they need to look strong to win. They won’t be messed with if they’re making themselves look bigger and meaner.

Obviously the other tributes will see where they walk from. All district sections are mirrored the same. Age twelve in front, and all the way to eighteen in the back. This is typically because the younger ones are shorter, and it gets taller as they go back. Of course, this doesn’t work all the time because there are a few who sprout early.

Girls on left, boys on right. It’s the same. Family hangs around the very back and sometimes the sides. Even if you’re not family, you’re required to go unless you’re sick and dying in bed. If that is the case, a peacekeeper will check it to make sure that they are dying. They don’t send out sick tributes at all, it doesn’t look good for the show, if they die easily on the first day of the games.

Anyway, your point is, you’re not entirely sure how people even thought that you and Finnick were intimidating when you had gone up on the stage. A fifteen year old girl and a fourteen year old boy. Maybe it was because of how confident both of you were when it came to the games. You guys looked prepared and almost like you had been picked specifically for it.

Too bad you’re not in district one or two, then maybe you’d believe it. They train their kids all the way up until they’re an age the trainers believe they could win. And they they pick them out specifically, forced to volunteer or whatever. Go into the games, win more than they lose, and come home to a grand victor house.

You guess it’s because it keeps the glory on the favored districts. Keep the rich, rich. And keep the poor districts, poor. If the other districts, like ten–they’re livestock–were to start winning then they would have the possibility of being favored. Guess where all their lamb, cow, chicken and pig come from? District ten. If the Capitol ever truly recognized that, then one and two would be fucked.

All those weapons for the peacekeepers and for the games? Come from district three. Without them, everyone inside of the arena would still be beating each other to death with rocks. That would be boring, and the only thing that would develop out of that would be the tributes learning how to throw and bettering their aim. Everyone in the districts would start training their kids specifically to be able to throw rocks. How useless.

Or district eleven, all their plums, apples, oranges, pears, bananas, all of that comes from district eleven because they’re agriculture. Capitol wouldn’t be enjoying their fruits and veggies without them. All those delicacies on their deserts, their breakfasts, dinners, lunches, snacks. All those foods that they throw up during their parties, come from every single district that makes food. Including four.

Your question truly is, what’s so special about one and two? All one does is make couches, lamps, lightbulbs and all of that. Sure, things that you can’t live without–actually, yes you can! You can live without all of those things. District two is the same. Masonry? Are you joking? They help make the weapons that three do. And three isn’t even in on the glory!

You know what you can’t live without? Food and water. Food comes from four, and nine, and ten, and eleven. Four districts that make the food that they eat, the you eat, that the rest of panem eats. And there’s only one of you in the spotlight for it all, and it has to be fishing. Instead of eleven that deserves it, or ten.

Another district that definitely deserves to be shown off to the rest of the Capitol, is district eight. All those clothes come from them. The exotic shit that’s on demand all the time from the Capitol comes from them. They work their asses off to make sure that the clothes make it there in time before the trends pass.

And let’s not forget some honorable mentions. District seven and twelve, no one would be warm without wood and coal. District five, power. That keeps every single district running, including the Capitol. And the Capitol takes up enough power to make sure that the other districts only get it for a couple of hours a day. Excluding the tribute houses, which is so extremely unfair. Six is transportation. If it weren’t for six, there would be no trains, cars, elevators, anything. No tributes, food, lumber, coal, textiles, masonry, all that furniture, without the trains.

And yet, one, two and four manage to be the most popular districts. It’s bullshit. It’s unfair. It’s stupid.

Elysia leans over to the boy, “And what’s your name?”

“Paslee Milillio.” he says, you lean back.

A brother, family, it’s expected. Save the younger one, since you love them too much. It means he bonded well with them, he could use that during the interviews. Be a tough guy with a soft heart, people will eat that right up. As for Annie, you’ll have a clue on her soon, you just need to dig, and most importantly, talk to her.

Elysia wraps it up after that. Soon, they’re being escorted off the stage and into the rooms inside of the Justice Building–the main district building. During this time, you say your goodbyes to your family just like the others. No danger in this, you just like to leave off on the right foot.

You hardly argue with them anymore. If it is, it’s stupid little things. So to worry about starting a huge fight with them is practically impossible. You see them around the side, give hugs and say goodbyes, and then you’ll get on the train with the others, and begin your mentoring.

“Where are you heading?” Finnick asks, and you remember that he’s clueless.

Taking his arm, you drag him with you, not saying anything. He tries to slip to your hand not-so-subtly, but you just regrasp his arm, he seems to understand after that. If you have to drag Finnick by the arm everywhere to make sure that he’s going to stick around, then you’ll do that.

You’ll lay down all the rules later, in private. Inside the train where he can’t escape so easily.

Reed is there with Alyssum, no Mox in sight.

“Where is he?” you ask, releasing Finnick’s arm.

Reed’s eyes dart to Finnick for a moment, and you sigh. Turning around, Finnick’s eyebrows are raised, “What?”

He’s in the family. You promised him five years ago he would be in the family. Yours is his and his is yours. You regret it all now. And you don’t regret much anymore.

“This is an us thing.” You begin to explain, and he holds up his hands.

“Okay, I get it–” he goes to walk off, but you catch his arm.

“Finnick,” he looks at you, “A me, you, Reed, Alyssum, Mox and maybe Caspian thing. This is a family affair.”

He turns his body towards you, “I don’t remember being family.”

“Unfortunately you’ve been family since the celebrations when we won five years ago.” you tell him, “If this shit gets to the public of the Capitol, you can consider yourself as good as dead.”

“You underestimate me.” he squints at you.

You tilt your head, lips pursing, “Really? Because I think this is a pretty big job for you.”

Letting go of his arm, you look to Reed again, and you can see the hint of a smirk. It’s too small for Finnick to know it. He would have been able to recognize it by now if he had been with you these past five years. Reed does it when he knows something that you don’t. You can guess what it is this time. It’s the tension, he’s going to call it romantic because Finnick still obviously loves you. And you’ll agree, but your part is irritation. Whether or not he agrees, you’ll find out after the games.

“Mox is seeing some girl.” Reed tells you, shifting on his feet, “He’s giving her money. I think that’s all she’s after.”

“How much is he taking from the justice building?” you ask.

Technically your family can go up and take it. Reed especially since he is your guardian, which he filed for as soon as possible after your dad had died in that boating accident. He’s in charge of you, Mox and Alyssum. Sometimes he takes out cash in advance so that you guys can cruise for a month at a time. You only need so much that you get from victors winnings, the most of it you’re saving up.

What for? A trip to the other districts.

You’ve met a lot of the victors since the sixtieth hunger games. You actually got to meet Gloss and Cashmere, they’re pretty good friends of yours. The only times you get to see them is during the mentoring and when they win the games. You were able to pull some strings and it turns out that you could go and stay with them for a bit, catch the train back and then still see them during the games.

Enobaria too, she won the sixty-second games, district two. You didn’t like her as much though, because the teeth really freaked you out. The reason why she had her teeth sharpened into points is because of the fact that she had bitten and ripped out the neck of the other career. It’s how she won her games, you guess.

To you, it’s disgusting that she would choose to embrace a memory like that. You can hardly handle your nightmares now, and they’re so… you’ve had years to get used to them. But then there’s the careers, and they don’t really get them at all. You talked to Gloss and Cashmere about it, and they said that they don’t get them.

Maybe for like a week that had gotten them, but they stopped. They said that you should be getting over yours soon. But here you are, still waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Trying to remind yourself that they’re only nightmares, and they’re not actual memories.

Also, talking to them unlocked a friendship, obviously. You know them better than you ever thought you would. You learned a couple of things about Cashmere, which is that she was also sold around in the Capitol following her year. Which would be from the sixty-fourth to sixty-fifth. She was being sold when you were still in the games.

She was a teenager.

She wanted to know if the same thing was happening to Finnick still. Saying something that he has to be high demand if he’s still being bought. But you were kind enough to inform her of a few things. The first, he’s still there because he likes the spotlight and his title of ‘darling of the Capitol’. Second, he’s not even gaining any money from it. He’s getting ‘secrets’ that he won’t bother to tell you.

Unlike Finnick, she got out as soon as possible. She doesn’t have nightmares about the games because she’s still too busy screaming about what used to happen to her. When you think or look at Finnick now, you wonder what’s worse to him. Being sold, or the games.

“Mox is taking enough to supply a small family.” Reed tells you, Alyssum wanders over and hugs your lower body, you rub her back slightly, fixing the flower in her hair.

“Well, I’ll talk to them when I get back, I guess. How often?”

“Once a week. But it’s taking a toll on the savings.”

“What are you even saving for?” Finnick asks.

You look to him, “Anything that Reed, Mox or Alyssum will need when they get married and buy houses of their own.”

“They won’t stay with you?” he asks.

“Finnick, they’ll have families of their own. Wives, husband, kids. Even if I’m not going to have any of that, doesn’t mean I want them to crowd my house. Feel free to rent out your own though. Your things are collecting dust.” you shake your head slightly.

Finnick seems to be quiet, and then he asks, “You’re not going to have kids?”

“Or get married.” Reed adds, it’s sour. When it comes out of his mouth it’s an accusation.

Two things on the list of things you wanted to do with him. First on that list was to get through the tour together. Second, mentor a pair of kids every year until you’re old enough for marriage. Then, Finnick would propose, you guys would get married, and a few years later have some kids. Maybe get a winning tribute somewhere in there, make some friends of tributes along the way. Grandkids, holidays, all of that.

Amazingly, there’s not a single man in this district that understands, or will ever understand what you went through. They make it about them, and they’re always after the money.

Finnick? The other victors? They understand. They get it.

You’ve begun to surround yourself with people that get it and accept it. Your main family, including Mags and Finnick you suppose. The other victors. Caspian’s family because they had pitched in the most for the rope they sent you during the games. And the list gets smaller every year, when all they do is come to you to get things for them. When they never talked to you before the games at all.

“No, I gave that up.” you tell him, looking to Reed, “I’ve got to go. I’ll mention it to the governor before I go, have him take Mox off of the list. Hide any cash around the house, maybe even return it to the buildings if they’ll allow it.”

“Got it.” he tells you, coming over and giving you a hug with Alyssum, who seems like she doesn’t want to let go.

Finnick is standing off adjacently, and so you hold your arm out for him. Reed catches on, extending his arm. Finnick’s face turns a light shade of red but he comes over. You mostly lean into Reed, and then you guys pull away.

“I’ll see you soon, Aly. Be good at school, listen to Reed.” You tell her.

“Always have.” She grins, she’s still missing a tooth from last week, it should be coming in any day now, “Bye!”

You kiss her forehead, shove Reed, and then you take Finnick along with you to the Justice building. On the way you mention the money thing, and then you’re meeting up with Elysia and the other tributes.

Happy hunger games.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair ethereal #ethereal

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

Text

Killer Party || Morgan & Erin

Location: Erin’s place

Timing: Current

Parties: @corpse--diem & @mor-beck-more-problems

Summary: A dead girl and a funeral director roll into a backyard with a bounce house. Soft friendship ensues.

Erin surveyed her backyard, and after shuffling around a few potted plants and some outdoor furniture, she wondered for the first time if there actually was enough room for a bouncy castle. What an unlikely predicament she’d found herself in here. Of all the problems she could list, this one was almost refreshing. A freshly thawed bowl of eyes sat waiting for Morgan when she arrived, just as promised. Already off to a good start to a two-month death day anniversary, right? This could be normal. As normal as a 35 year old woman about to trade some magical rocks for a bouncy house a few short weeks after she’d murdered someone could be. Morgan had a way about her that really did lift her spirits and distract her from everything else. And that’s because she wasn’t normal. She was just as weird and confident in that weirdness as Erin was. Until she got here? Erin slipped into one of the patio chairs, sipping on a fresh glass of whiskey. Rustling grass broke her thoughts and in an instant she was on her feet, hand moving to the knife she now permanently kept at her side. “Oh fuck, Morgan,” she breathed out some of between a sigh and a nervous laugh. “Sorry, you scared the shit out of me.” Seemed to be a trend with their meetings. She moved her hand from the hilt of the knife, smoothly and slowly, giving a wave. “Is being ridiculously stealthy just a zombie thing or a Morgan thing?”

Since it was broad daylight, Morgan figured she didn’t need to make more of a fuss than showing up when she said she would with the now deflated bounce house folded under her arm. She came around the back of the house and into the yard, beaming when she saw her friend. “Hey!” She cried brightly. When Erin whirled, a hand on a knife at her hip. Morgan jumped back, brow furrowed with as much confusion as concern. She hadn’t taken Erin for the kind of person who was capable of the ‘stab first, ask questions later’ mentality. That was hunter bullshit. Fear-based, ignorant, impulsive in the worst way. “Y-yeah…” she said slowly. “I uh, I can see that.” She nodded at Erin’s hip, indicating that she’d seen exactly what Erin had been about to do. She had practiced too much with Mina and seen Deirdre arm herself for the day too often not to notice the bulge of the sheath. What had happened to Erin between a radio party in the embalming room and now? She looked like she’d been wrung through one of those old industrial machines too many times, flattened and drained. “I’ve always been really quiet when I walk,” she said. “I brought this for you.” She took the folded up plastic and laid it on one of the patio chairs slowly. “You uh...maybe wanna play some catch up on what’s been going on with you first?”

The alarm in Morgan’s reaction was enough to send a guilt-ridden warmth up Erin’s cheeks. “Sorry,” she said again, quieter, more sincere, watching her set the bouncy castle down. “Can never be too careful in my line of work, you know?” She almost physically cringed at her own hurried, cliche of an excuse. Took a breath, let it settle, and finally offered her friend a more sincere smile. “It’s been… a time, yeah.” To say the least. Diving right in with murder plots didn’t seem like the right move here, though. She held up a finger, her smile purposefully widening. “But first thing’s first!” she moved to the bowl on the table beside her, holding it out in front of her and made a show of lifting the lid off of it with another one. “Happy Two Month Deathiversary!” she bellowed dramatically, brimming with enthusiasm. She set the lid down, digging into her pocket for the bag of stones that almost made a home in her garden. “Ta-da! Your adder rocks, as promised, my fine zombie friend.”

Somehow, Erin’s underground organ trade hadn’t read as ‘violently dangerous’ to Morgan until now. She had pictured people like herself lining up discreetly or pulling up in their Hondas in the dead of night, sheepishly collecting a meal of brains or blood or whatever else discreetly and driving away. Maybe a few underground transplants or some mad science supply gathering, but nothing that warranted reaching for a knife. But there was something too real in the way Erin’s face clouded with shame. It hadn’t been a vague nightmare, but something her muscles were remembering an occasion for. Morgan’s frown softened. “It’s okay,” she said, hoping they weighed enough to cover whatever Erin had gone through recently.

She couldn’t help but beam at the bowl of eyes and the bag of adder stones. “Thanks, Erin, my fine funeral organ dealing friend.” she said and came over to give the woman a hug. “Ooh, and look at all the colors!” She picked up a blue eye, then a brown one, popping them in her mouth. “If I told you they had different flavors, would you believe me?” She asked, mouth half full. She swallowed, continuing, “This really is great of you. And as promised, I have normal, human nacho fixings in my bad, but I wanted them to be nice and fresh for you. And while I work, maybe you can tell me what’s got you looking for knife fights around every corner? Or is that more of an after testing the bounce house? As you know, I am a very flexible gal, but I would like an explanation.”

Normal. Erin had to laugh quietly at herself as Morgan’s arms wrapped around her, hands full with eyeballs and stones. As she watched Morgan chow down on her celebratory snacks, she wasn’t sure why she was still trying to integrate that word into her life anymore. Didn’t mean much to begin with, really. This was her normal and if this was the kind of thing that made her friends happy on the reminder of what she could only assume was a horrible fucking day? She’d take it. “Really?” she raised a brow, glancing down at the kaleidoscope of irises between them. “I mean, you’re the one eating them, so,” she shrugged. “What color tastes like what? Anything comparable to human food?” Of course she had to ask. How could she not?

Morgan’s insistence left her as annoyed as she was grateful, but it wasn’t an unfair demand. Erin had almost pulled a knife on her. Talking about this still felt weird despite having these new safe spaces to do just that. Nodding, she poked around the bag, the warm, cheesy goodness promising nothing but good things. “I feel like I probably shouldn’t jump around with a stomach full of nachos,” she glanced over, the quick anger that flared up simmering. “After?” She asked hopefully, giving her a gentle nudge. “It’s your day after all.” Felt odd to word it like that but she couldn’t think of a better explanation. Paused for a moment in between reaching for the bouncy castle and trying to figure out how to execute this layout to catch Morgan’s gaze. “How are you feeling? Really?”

Morgan reached for another eyeball and grinned. “Well, you know how skittles are mostly the same but they got that hint of artificial flavor between all the different colors? Well these—” She swallowed and reached for another one and made it look at Erin. “Aren’t anything like that. If there’s a difference, it’s more like the blue m&ms versus the green ones.” She smirked, her expression wide and mischievous.

She went to the bounce house and started the air pump that came with it. It was almost a relief, delaying the nachos and the heavy talk. She was doing so much talk lately; everyone she knew was suffering and she had nothing to offer them for it in return, sometimes not even words. And now Erin too? Morgan wanted to swallow her own angst down and put it away. She had just started to fix the balance of her good days and bad days. She had it easier than most. She was loved. She was as medically stable as a zombie could be. And yet when Erin asked her question she sighed, wrestling with the urge to vomit everything up. “Trying not to think about how I still don’t have my shit together,” she said with a sad smirk. “I’m not even cursed anymore, you know? And two months in the—not the ground, but, doing the dead girl disco.” She unfolded everything and pushed the button, let the pump do its work. “Are you where my antidepressant dealer gets the cerebrospinal fluid for my meds?” She asked. “Because that’s a thing. I think it has to be fresh though, so, maybe not? But—everything is mostly fine. Just need to figure out what comes next. Easy-peasy, right?”

Erin raised her eyebrows at the eyeball staring back at her, taking in Morgan’s explanation with a confused but genuine laugh. “They all taste exactly the same, though?” She countered, tone lilting into a question as she suddenly doubted every handful of M&M’s she’d ever popped into her mouth. “But--sure, fine. You’re the eyeball aficionado here.”

With the pump doing all the work for them, there wasn’t much to do but watch as it started to slowly, very slowly, come to life. She sat back onto the grass, hoping that the weird shape and color of this thing would make more sense once it wasn’t a deflated clump. Her eyes turned up to Morgan as she spoke and felt her heart pull a little for her friend. “If it helps, I think most people don’t have their shit together. They’re just really good at faking. Present company included,” she smiled softly back at her. “Oh, yeah. Just buy a day planner and you’re all set.” She teased, giving a curt nod. Antidepressant dealer? Shit. For a moment, Erin thought this was leading to a joke. Punchline never came, though, and she sat up a little straighter, shoulders tensing. Guess she was a connection to that world, even if all she dealt in was body parts. Her mind immediately jumped to Felix again. “I don’t know anything about that, but I probably know someone who does,” she shrugged. “If you’re serious about that.”

“That was the joke, Erin,” Morgan said with a wink. “Cute colors on the outside, same old goodness on the inside. Although, I will swear that there’s a hint of a superior difference with the brown ones. On both accounts. Call it my aficionado taste.”

Erin at least wasn’t suffering so much that she couldn’t join in with Morgan on her wry humor, and this gave Morgan a few crumbs of comfort. She had powered through enough talks while cursed and suffering to know that it didn’t mean whatever she carried was light. She had pulled a knife on her of all things. “Oh, I got the hookup from this guy, Felix? I just know he’s got to get the raw goods from somewhere. I can’t let it bug me too much, though. A gal’s gotta stay off the floor and keep trucking somehow. And I already want another human brain, so there’s no point in being cute about some spinal fluid. I’m an eater of flesh, consumer of viscera and weird creepy bits of the dead.” She shrugged, trying to smooth out the edge in her that had sharpened her voice. “And a person,” she forced herself to add. “A still very cute person, I might add. And, hey, I’ve always heard that bullet journaling would totally be my thing. Maybe I can sticker and doodle my way into a sense of purpose.”

Erin couldn’t stop the massive eye roll that came over her. “Smartass,” she chuckled, feeling a little bit of the tightness in her chest loosen. For a moment, anyway. “Looks like we’ve got the same hookup then.” Sometimes she forgot just how small this damn town was. It wasn’t hard to miss the tension in the very pointed way she was describing herself. Like she had to vocalize it, in tangent with being a ‘person’, to remind even herself it was true. “You are a person,” Erin insisted, smiling softly. “Very cute and very much a person. One of my favorite people, at that. And a good friend,” she added. It was hard to forget not everyone would agree. Alain came to mind, and maybe a few months ago she would have agreed with his stance on all things undead. A guilty warmth at just the thought briefly reddened her skin and she looked away to watch the inflatable again. “Sure, you eat weird stuff now. So do a lot of people. Have you ever met a vegan?” she teased gently, glancing back up at her. “And if you ever forget, or need a reminder about that person thing, you know you can call me, right?”

Morgan watched the squid unfold and lift itself up into shape as Erin spoke. Her smile turned watery. She’d known, somehow, that Morgan was teetering over the edge and pulled her back just in time. She smirked at the vegan comment. “You know, we don’t get that many in Texas, but they sure are weird.” She finally turned to Erin, looking up at her with watery eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “That really, um, means a lot from you. I don’t have many friends who are human, who see things like you do. So…” Morgan pulled Erin into a hug, arms wrapped around her middle, head pressing into her shoulder as she forced back her tears. “Thank you. And I will.” She turned back to the bounce house, now towering over them like the friendliest of giants. “Come on, we gotta make sure this baby’s still got all its bounce, right?” She started slipping off her shoes and tugging Erin towards the entrance.

Morgan’s misty eyes tugged at Erin’s heartstrings in a way she didn’t expect. Morgan’s strong but sturdy presence had been equally as unexpected though, hadn’t it? Didn’t even need a beating heart for Erin to recognize how big and accepting it could be. The other woman barely batted an eye at her own darkness, accepting her in full, no questions asked. There’d been a darkness in her too that felt all too familiar and welcoming. “Your other friends are idiots then,” Erin mumbled, wrapping her arms around her tightly. Sometimes you just needed someone you could sit in those shadows with. And sometimes that looked like this--sharing eyeball appetizers and bouncing in a bounce house shaped like a giant squid. Wait. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Erin hesitated at the entrance of the bounce castle as she finally took in the full view of what the bounce castle had grown into.

A motherfucking squid.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She had to laugh or she’d probably break right then and there. “Nic is going to lose it if he sees this thing,” she groaned, eyes wide and staring at the monstrosity, even as Morgan tugged her along. She slipped off her shoes and followed her anyway. It had to have been at least solid decades since she’d found herself in anything even resembling a bouncy castle and not even the ghost of their squid’s past could stop her from enjoying this. It only took a few modest test jumps to remind her of that and before she knew it, long, overdue laughter spilled from her as she really took flight. “I’m pretty sure this is--” she squealed, grabbing onto Morgan’s shoulder when she lost her footing for a second, laughing even harder. “--the best trade I’ve ever made in my life,” she finished with a grin.

Morgan did a double take at the mention of Nic. “As in Nicodemus?” She quirked a brow, searching Erin’s expression for more context. “Is he--? Are you two--? Oh, stars, you are, aren’t you? Erin! You and--!” She gaped, squealing like a teenger as she stumbled into the bounce house. “I want to know everything. All of it, okay? Oh, and if it’s official, so I know just how much of a hard time to give Nic when I talk to him.” She dove onto her back, letting the inflated floor catch her with a bounce and then scrambled back up to her feet to try a flip, ending in a messy tangle of limbs. “It is--as always--a pleasure doing business with you, Erin.” She giggled and flopped onto her back again, tugging Erin down with her. “But, come on. You gotta tell me something.”

Ah, fuck. Erin cringed and not just at the unexpected high-pitched squeal that erupted from Morgan. She couldn’t believe that for even a moment she’d forgotten Morgan was an active member of the ever-growing Nicodemus Bossier Fan Club. “Everything?” She asked, a twinge of panic straining the laugh that followed. Her bounces slowed as she watched Morgan flail around, until she finally dropped down with her at her urging. The plastic felt cool against her back as they bobbed, the floor settling with their sudden stillness, and she realized right then that she’d never tried to explain out loud what they were to another living (or unliving) soul. “We’re... something?” This would’ve been easier to explain if either of them had been capable or courageous enough to put their thoughts to words. For now, she shrugged and bit down on her bottom lip when a dumb, shy smile started to slip through. “We haven’t actually said that we’re anything. He’s, uh--my best friend, you know? And we care about each other. So it’s definitely something.” A good something, she knew that too. She glanced over to Morgan finally, a wider smile and a hearty laugh loosening her chest. “And I will literally never turn down an opportunity to give him a hard time. Please, do as you must,” she insisted.

Morgan poked her finger into the corner of Erin’s smile, giggling again. “I know how that is. Deirdre and I were ‘something’ for months. When it’s all new and shiny, it’s just like...I mean you want to let whatever it is be its own thing, right? No weird expectations that are gonna break things before they’ve really started. And you don’t want to stop your momentum or anything, you just want to find out where it’s going--or that’s how it is for me, anyway.” She didn’t mention that she hadn’t made it past the ‘something’ stage with a few other women in the past, and the lack of a name, of the legitimacy of language, had made it easier to convince herself that she wasn’t heartbroken by the disappointments. She had a lot more hope for Erin and Nic than she did for her past self. “I’m happy for you guys. And thank you, for the opportunity to give Nic a hard time. Please tell him I’m responsible for the squid bounce house. And I insist on him trying it out. I think it’ll be good for his, uh, stress relief, you know?” She started laughing just imagining the scene. “He’s a pretty cool guy, you know. Did you already tell him about, you know, your whole side hustle thing?”

Erin rolled her eyes, playfully smacking Morgan’s hand away, though she couldn’t disagree with what she was saying. It was delicate, quiet, but it was good. It was relieving to know she didn’t have to explain it more than that. Benefits of befriending women her own age, finally, she supposed. It was nice. “You’ve been reading my diary, haven’t you?” She teased, the floor swaying with her when she turned to face Morgan better, resting her head against her palm. “I’m… not sure this is his kind of stress reliever, honestly. He’s not a big fan of squids,” she laughed, already picturing him sending this thing to a watery grave with one or two well placed stabs. “Very cool. The guy knows all about my shady side and likes me anyway. I think that means he’s a keeper,” she smirked, picking at a piece of dirt on the floor. Her brows suddenly narrowed and lifted to Morgan’s. “Wait, so… Deirdre, huh?” She tilted her head slightly, settling in. “You’ve gotta tell me how that one works.”

“Yes, Erin, you should know better than to leave your diary lying around where I can see your E heart’s N doodles from the margins. I’m holding it hostage until you let me make you nachos.” Morgan teased, cackling at the end of her words, unable to keep up the act for very long. “You don’t think Squidward looks different enough for Nic to give him a chance? Maybe you can just march him in blindfolded. Don’t tell him he’s in the belly of a plastic bouncy squid, yaknow?” She sniggered and pressed her arms down into the bouncy floor to get some movement going again. “Mmhm,” she said, her voice rising and falling along with her bounce. “The ones who accept your shady side, or even like you for your shady side, are the ones you know are definitely keepers. I can attest to that personally too. It’s not worth it if you have to hide yourself or your life from someone. Things are hard and complicated enough on their own.” She turned her head sideways to look at Erin properly, a sly grin warming up her face. “Yeah, Deirdre. She has...a lot more to her than most people realize, for one. But I mean...in some ways it’s really simple. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And she’s also the most interesting, surprising, thoughtful--kind-hearted person I’ve met too. The only one I’ve been able to talk to, practically non stop, for six months and still have things to say. We love each other a lot. We help each other. And we don’t keep secrets. I moved in a couple months ago, before we were even officially dating, and...I don’t know. For two different people who haven’t been happy a lot before, the space we make when we’re together is the most comforting one I’ve ever had.” She shrugged, her smile soft now. “You can ask more, but I’m gonna need something on why you’re suddenly Miss Violence eventually.”

Erin pushed herself up to sit, her body shaking with laughter covering her face with her hand. Oh God, she was downright giggling. “No, absolutely not. You’ve gotta show me how to take this down before you leave.” She watched her, adding to the bounce wave. It was hard not to smile as Morgan gushed. The only true experience she’d ever had with Dierdre involved a story about pulling a knife on Regan and endless pursuits to purchase her hearse. The original alarm that had come with both of those things had dwindled over the months. Guess there was some sort of quiet understanding that came with the shady life that Morgan had touched on. “As long as you’re happy, seriously, that’s all that matters,” Erin shook her head, reaching over to squeeze her friend’s arm. “Even if your girlfriend lightly stalked me for my hearse once upon a time.” Ah. Seemed like they weren’t going to be able to skate right past that topic with super normal girl talk and bounce castle fun times, huh? Erin’s smile faded and she wrapped her arms around her knees. “I, uh--” The words kept getting stuck in her chest. Guilt kept it firmly in place, even with the agreeable ‘shady’ company she’d found herself in. Might as well just fucking say it, right? “Things got bad with my side hustle. Like, bad-bad. I had to…” she narrowed her eyes, cleared her throat. “I had to go all Godfather and take care of a problem. If you know what I mean.”

Morgan propped herself up on her arms as Erin agonized over the question. She couldn’t figure what would be enough to get under Erin’s skin, but the confession of a murder hadn’t been on her shortlist. It was only watching her friend try to swallow the lump in her throat that she remembered how new this world still was to her. She hadn’t even been handling organs for very long either. The moose sacrifice had almost been too much for her. And now… “I’m sorry, that you had to kill someone, Erin,” she said quietly. “It makes you feel different after. It weighs on you. But that doesn’t mean you were wrong to do it. It doesn’t mean that they didn’t deserve what happened to them.” She held Erin’s eyes, clear and sober and solemn with the weight of what she’d done in the ring. “And I know that because I’ve killed someone too. And I feel...a lot of things about it. But she was helping keep one of my friends hostage along with who knows how many supernaturals. And I think I would do it again. But I also know that handling death like that is...it’s different from how we are normally. You should feel however about it.” She reached out for Erin’s arm and squeezed gently. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Morgan took Erin’s confession with more grace than she would have expected. Laying murder onto someone wasn’t something most people took likely. But Morgan wasn’t most people, though. It was the only reason she felt comfortable enough to ever utter something like this to someone. Apparently, with Morgan’s own confession, she realized she couldn’t have picked a better ear. “I think I feel more guilty about the fact that I don’t feel guilty. The guy was an absolute scumbag who made my life hell,” she answered honestly. She was right though. Erin did feel different. She wasn’t sure which end of the spectrum that left her on but different was a good way to describe it. “Without sounding too cliche, the guy I had killed was skimming off the top, tried to blame it on me. And my boss decided to… test my loyalty, I guess, when I explained to him what had actually happened. So he made me take care of it. Him.” She cleared her throat, scratching the back of her neck. Found it surprisingly easy to still meet Morgan’s bright blue eyes. “You’ve… killed someone? You?” She felt bad but she had to ask. As aware of Morgan’s dark side she was, it felt wrong to add ‘murderer’ to that shadowy list.

“There’s this principle in alchemy called equivalent exchange, where you have to offer material of equal value to what you’re making or requesting from the energy of the universe. It’s all part of this pagan idea of universal balance,” Morgan said quietly. “The turn of the seasons, the planets and the stars, even life and death. It’s all supposed to come out even in the grand scheme of things. And maybe if humans and sometimes other people, I guess, didn’t give each other reasons to be awful it would be all the time. But that’s not how it is.” She lifted her eyes to meet Erin’s eyes. “I don’t know how much I believe that anymore, but I am pretty damn sure that if there is going to be anything close to ‘balance,’ it’s something we have to help make for ourselves. Someone takes it upon themselves to wreck your balance, tries to get you killed for something they did, or throws supernaturals in cages like they’re animals, they deserve to have that harm shifted back at them. If you don’t feel guilty, Erin, don’t.” She quirked the corner of her mouth sadly. “Maybe I would’ve gone about it different if I hadn’t just been so...angry. This guy made us see our friends’ dead bodies with his illusion magic, to fuck with us, because he could, and I just kind of...lost my shit. I didn’t get him, but I got one of his friends. I pummeled her into the ground until I couldn’t.” She swallowed thickly. “She was one of the guards. She saw them. My friends, all of them. She helped keep at that awful place, The Ring? And I’m not sorry she or any of the other ones are gone. But I do...I don’t know. It’s like she’s pressing on my back. I feel a piece of her. And that doesn’t feel fair, but...maybe that’s just how it is.”

Erin remained quiet as Morgan explained the premise of equivalent exchange. Frankly, it made more sense than anything magical related she’d heard so far. Balance. It was always about balance. “I kinda like that,” she smiled softly. She knew that she had no real reason to be guilty outside of what a ‘normal’ human reaction to this would be. But she didn’t. And it wouldn’t come. Her eyes fell on Morgan for a long time, trying to picture the horrible scene she’d just described. It was so hard to imagine those big blue eyes filled with enough rage to beat a woman to death but if she’d learned anything, nobody was what they seemed around here. “The Ring?” Erin asked, but she could only presume it was the awful place Morgan had mentioned with the cages. She leaned over, running a hand down her shoulder. “Sounds like they deserved it just as much as my guy. I know it’s not as eloquent as equivalent exchange but--sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve gotta do to because it’s right. Because you have to survive.”

Morgan put her hand over Erin’s and threaded their fingers together. She still felt some kind awful inside. She hadn’t wept for the nameless woman once. For herself, for Remmy and Nell and everyone who had been held there, sure, but not for what she’d taken. It worried her in a quiet way, how much of her had been warped by death? What else had she lost that she hadn’t accounted for. But looking at Erin, who by her reckoning was no more monstrous than herself or Deirdre or Remmy or Nell, she decided to lay the question aside. Sometimes balance wasn’t pretty. “Guess witches know a thing or two about a thing or two,” she said. Then, laughing feebly. “Didn’t mean to bring down the mood comparing body counts. If you’ve still got an appetite, though, I could make some really great distraction nachos. We could even bring it back out here. I’d love to see how long you last.”

Erin returned Morgan’s small smile, giving her hand a squeeze. It felt like there was plenty still left unsaid, settled between them, shrouded in this damn squid bounce castle. Definitely not the place she’d ever pictured herself bonding over murder with someone, especially not the murder part. “Distraction nachos sound amazing right now,” she shrugged. “Fun fact about me: I’m never not hungry,” she smirked, trying to ease some lightness back into the air again. Hard sell after what they were just discussing but that was the beauty of this friendship, wasn’t it? She hopped to her feet, wobbling just a little when the floor moved beneath them. Giving one last bounce when Morgan tried to stand, she laughed again, holding her hand out to help her up “And if that’s a challenge, you’re so on, lady!”

#killer party #wr erin #wr chatzy #wr erin chatzy #wr #wickedswriting

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mandowh0re · 5 years ago

Text

Baby For a Week

Day 2 Part 2

Fandom: Avengers MCU

Summary: Loki decides it would be funny to turn Peter into a two year old, thrusting Tony into the life of an actual parent for a week. Is he ready?

Word Count: 1383

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst

A/N: I’m,,, updating??? HI GUYS! Also, I made Stucky a thing in this. Sorry not sorry.

Happy Reading!

Part 1.1/ Part 1.2/ Part 2.1/ Part 2.2

It was a relatively quiet evening after May left. Peter went down for a nap on his own and Tony took him and placed him in the crib along with the Iron Man plushie and puppy.

Deciding takeout would be a good idea after everyone tired themselves out playing with Peter, Tony ordered Chinese food to the Compound.

“So, how’s dad life treating you?” Natasha asked, before popping a piece of orange chicken in her mouth.

Tony shot her a glare, “I’m not-”

“Oh for the love of God!” Bucky slammed his flesh hand down on the table, “If I hear you say you’re not the kid’s dad one more time I’ll slap Steve,” he jerked his thumb to the man next to him.

“Um excuse me, don’t bring me into this!” Steve’s hands flew up.

Bucky ignored his boyfriend’s protest, “You literally walk, talk, and act like Pete’s dad twenty-four-seven. I’m pretty fucking sure the only person who doesn’t realize that is you.”

Steve quickly slapped Bucky upside the head at the same time Natasha kicked him under the table and Sam scream whispered, “Dude!”

Tony blinked a few times before his brain caught up with him.

“What did you just say?”

Bucky’s eyes got wide and they shot around the table.

“I no longer feel safe in this environment.” he said as he slumped in his seat.

“Oh now you’re intuition works.” Natasha hissed.

“Barnes,” Tony said, “What did you mean by that?”

It was silent for a few seconds before Bucky rolled his eyes and sat back up, “Well there’s no point in hiding it now!”

“It’s not your secret to tell, Buck.”

“I’ll get murdered either way. I’d rather get murdered by the spider.”

“You’re gonna make the kid cry.”

“He made us promise, Barnes.”

“Hey!” Tony yelled, getting everyone’s attention, “I’d like to know what secret my supposed spider child is keeping from me. So if you be so kind as to enlighten me,” he raised a brow.

Before anyone could stop him, Bucky blurted, “Petercallsyoudadwhenyouarentaroundto-.”

Tony choked on his spit at the same time Steve tackled Bucky to the ground..

“That’s a bold faced lie,” He said, but with such uncertainty that is came out painfully wavered.

His eyes flickered to Bruce, who just shrugged.

“FRIDAY?”

“Sergeant Barnes is telling the truth. I could not tell you because Peter convinced me not to.”

There were so many things swirling in Tony’s head right now.

How long had this been going on? Was it an accident at first? He really hasn’t fucked up with Peter? How had the kid manipulated Tony’s own AI to withhold information?

So he just avoided it altogether.

Turning to Barnes he said, “Can I at least say it one more time for the satisfaction of seeing Rogers get slapped?”

The look on Bucky’s face was pure evil.

***

That night, Tony was woken up by Peter screaming his lungs out.

Pepper had left on a business trip earlier in the evening to China, so he was left to his own devices.

Looking over the paper May had given him, she listed a few reasons as to why Peter may throw a tantrum.

Ear infection

Sick

Overly tired

Frustrated

Peter had an enhanced healing factor that made it damn near impossible for him to get sick, and he was sleeping. So all of those possibilities flew right out the window.

Tony had been bouncing the boy and cooing at him for the last ten minutes but nothing even caused Peter to let up on the screaming. And because he was screaming, he couldn’t communicate to Tony what was wrong.

“FRIDAY, can you scan him to see if there’s anything wrong that I’m missing?”

“I have already done so three times, boss. I cannot find anything physically wrong with him. Perhaps you should call Bruce up to look at him.”

“Right, right, okay. Can you have Bruce meet me in the med bay?”

“Will do.”

Tony grabbed puppy and the iron man plushie that the kid now called “kitty”, which the others made fun of Tony endlessly for.

“I don’t see him clutching to a stuffed version of any of you shit heads.”

When he got to the med bay, Bruce was already there in his pajamas with a white lab coat on.

The screaming child in Tony’s arms made him wince, “Mam, FRIDAY wasn’t messing around.”

“Does she ever?” Tony asked as he walked over to the bed.

“Yeah, if you ask her to.”

“One time. That was one time and you all basically grounded me.”

Just as Tony went to set Peter on the bed, the screaming got impossibly louder and Peter latched onto Tony with his spider powers.

“Well shit.”

“Just sit on the bed and put him on your lap. He should be fine there.”

After an extensive check, Bruce finally concluded that there really was nothing wrong with Peter. Luckily, by the time he was finished, Peter had calmed down to the point of hiccups and sniffles.

“Peter,” Bruce spoke quietly, “Can you tell us what’s wrong?”

Peter clutched the stuffed toys tighter and looked up at Tony, his chubby cheeks red and stained with tear tracks.

Tony ran a hand through the boy’s curls and carefully wiped a stray tear away, “It’s okay buddy. You can tell us.”

Peter looked between tony and Bruce a few more times before settling into Tony’s lap.

“Bird.”

Wait what?

“What do you mean, bud?”

“Mean bird. Big a-and gween eyes. Hurt.”

“Peter, there aren’t any birds in the building,” Bruce tried to explain, but Peter shook his head violently.

“Drop me in water! Th-then big house fell down n I not move and nobody help!” Peter was beginning to hyperventilate.

“He’s talking about Vulture. Toomes. I think. I’m not sure what he means about the house though.” Tony told Bruce.

“So a nightmare.” Bruce stated.

“I thought he only remembered us and his powers. No events.”

Bruce shrugged, “Maybe he has memories of things in his sleep. It’s Loki. And it’s magic. Honestly, we have no way to control or predict anything from here. We just gotta play it by ear.”

“Wonderful,” Tony groaned, “Hey Pete. The big mean bird is gone, he isn’t gonna hurt you. It was just a dream. I promise you’re safe.”

Peter only whimpered in response, but Tony took that as an okay to take him back up to the penthouse.

“Sorry for waking you, Brucie.”

“Never a problem for Peter.”

“I see where I stand.”

“Against the world’s cutest kid? Yeah, you do.”

Tony chuckled but headed back to the elevator.

When he finally got Peter to fall back to sleep, Tony snuck out to the living room of his penthouse.

“FRIDAY, I wanna know what Peter meant by what he said earlier. Look for any collapsed buildings in New York City in the timeframe from when he first told Happy about Toomes to the night Toomes was arrested.”

“I have found five collapsed buildings reported within those constrictions.”

“How many are still open cases or listed as suspicious or unsolved?”

“Two.”

“How did each one fall?”

“One building was an old abandoned apartment that burned to the ground. No arrest has been made in the case, but it appears to be arson. The other was an abandoned parking garage, collapsed from possible structural integrity. No arrest has been made, but it happened the night of the plane crash. The call to emergency operators came in about twenty minutes before your plane crashed.”

Tony physically felt his heart drop into his stomach.

“Were there any security cameras around that night?”

A shop across the street had a camera with the garage partially in its frame. I’m pulling it up now.”

A video feed came over the tv screen that had a partial shot of the street, including the parking garage.

A few seconds played before a red streak flew through the frame.

“Stop. Rewind. Play that frame by frame and enhance the video.”

FRIDAY did as requested, and there on the screen was Peter, in his old homemade spiderman suit, swinging towards the garage.

Tony felt his heart beginning to beat faster. Faster than it should.

He watched patiently for another three minutes, before the structure collapsed.

***

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dandelliongirl · 5 years ago

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What a start

to 2020

I have been working from home since the afternoon of the 16th of March and it feels like forever. I am so glad this week is Easter weekend and a 4 day vacation.

My family has been healthy and life for me hasn't changed that much other than working from home. My friend who lives across the street got a Nintendo Switch and Animal Crossing New Horizons for herself but she doesn't have Nintendo Online membership yet so we have been spending a lot of time together. Besides her and my family I have no other contacts. My friend works at the central hospital though, so it's obviously risky and probably stupid... She came to our cottage a couple of weeks ago and we had the best time going on a forest walk to collect sticks for macrame tapestries and finding photoshoot locations and spending the evening going to sauna, playing ACNH and visiting each others islands to see a meteor shower. We are planning a photoshoot for easter weekend but I think I’m going to move it to a later date. I really need time with my family and by myself after almost 3 weeks of being shut in.

I am so glad we have our cottage and I feel awful for people in one room apartments right now. Spending all my working hours and freetime within a few steps definitely affects my mental state even though I am definitely a homebody. Working from home has been going really well though since I have my own PC with two monitors and my work laptop with VPN separately. I am definitely super glad to have a stable job and the possibility to work from home through this whole covid-19 business. I really struggle coming up with local entrepreneurs to support when there are so many but I definitely feel like I have to because I am lucky enough to have a stable income.

So buying ACNH was an ordeal. My local electronics store didn't list the special edition Switch console bundle until launch day (March 20th) and the place I preordered from didn't get the shipment until 5pm. We drove about 2 hours and started off before 8 am to get the console and game from a different store only to see that it was stocked locally right after opening. Anyway I got the game and it has been an emotional journey. I hate that I got oranges and an orange airport. I'm also not very happy with my town name or my character name but despite spending months making lists and thinking about it I didn't really have better options. I also didn't want to place down the museum before I could access the other side of the river but turns out I needed to place it in order to proceed and lost one day of progress because of it. I was so upset. The map is pretty good and I eventually grew to like my island but then I got Pietro as my first camper and was forced to move him in.. I also ate 10 turnips this Sunday and was absolutely fuming because of it. The first week of listening to the same background music was also an infuriating design choice as well as the recent barrage of bunny day eggs everywhere. Anyway overall I like the game and have spent awesome times with friends playing hide and seek, doing treasure hunts and designing and decorating the place. I'm taking it easy and going my own pace even if it means avoiding spoilers (even from my boyfriend who constantly spoils something because he’s too excited to keep his mouth shut!) like the plague.

Mum and dad had the rest of their house renovated during March since the bedrooms were renovated a few years ago. Me and mum spent so much time choosing the materials and planning the new layout of the kitchen and living room but it's so beautiful now! So open and light and airy and clean!

This whole covid isolation thing has really put all of my personal goals on hold. I feel like even though externally I haven't been affected too much the whole mental side of it has taken a toll. With no hobbies me and my guy are both constantly at home and even though I love it and we have a lot of fun together I also hadn't realised how much I relied on my couple of hours of weekly alone time to work on my crafts and baking and organising the house. I feel like the first 2 weeks were spent on survival mode and then ACNH took up all remaining free time and brain capacity as a form of escapism so I'm not getting anything done and that's eating me up. Also the lack of physical activity is taking a mental toll on both me and my boyfriend since we don't have a whole lot of room and I definitely don't feel like working out when he's just haning out on the couch in front of me.. I have also had a lot of restless nights and nightmares which tells me that I'm not as unaffected as I think I am. I have definitely been avoiding the news and trying to get into some new normal routines as fast as possible. I drafted this message while in a Teams meeting where our coordinators can do their own year and resource planning and ask me tech questions when they need help. Now I’m finishing and posting this before I start the next one. I don’t want to accidentally screenshare Tumblr..

My last post was from January 19th and since then we've had a fun birthday party for my high school friend on the 22nd, a brunch at and a visit to the future wedding venue for another friend on the 23rd, an adorable photoshoot with a big teddy bear on the 29th of January, sushi with my family on the 6th of March and this whole covid situation. My colleague with whom I had a lot of issues moved away and no longer works with us. Work without her has been great and I have been thriving. I love feeling important and needed, and it gives me hope for my future since my current contract ends at the end of this year. There are 5 of us in our team looking to get a permanent contract for one of the 2 open positions so we'll have to see what happens, but I'm definitely applying anyway.

Mum is on vacation this week and went to take food to granny and grandpa's door on Monday. Today (Wednesday) I plan on leaving work early and going to the cottage, and to work remotely from there on Thursday if I have no meetings that require a more stable Internet connection. Since the kitchen renovation and a relatively warm and snowless winter we got to start our cottage season early this year. My guy is also spending Easter with his family at their cottage. It's his 27th birthday next week! We are really bad at socially distancing ourselves from our families but apart from my friend those are the only connections we have.. My spring allergies started and it's definitely hard to know if I have flu symptoms or allergies but so far I've just felt sniffly and it helps after I take my allergy meds so I think I'm safe. If either of us or any of our loved ones got flu symptoms we would definitely stay home and we are well prepared for that.

In a few months once this whole thing calms down this will feel like such a weird alternative timeline or fever dream and it will seem very unreal that a disease drove us into global and local isolation of this scale where even schools were closed. Our capital is quarantined and the police are making sure people who cross the border have a valid reason to do so.. People are placing teddy bears and other stuffed animals to their windows for children to spot on their walks outside.. Wild.

Meanwhile I'll go back to playing ACNH, dreaming of summer and finding my new norms. I hope everyone stays safe and healthy! I’m trying to get the most out of my time working from home because it means I can do embroidery and other crafts during meetings.:)

#personal #diary #April2020

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cursewoodrecap · 5 years ago

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Session 11: Cirque Macabre

On the road from Mornheim to Bad Herzfeld, we can’t even have a day off in peace.

Good Morning Baaaaaaaltimornheim~

We wake up in Mornheim along with the Fairgolds, having crammed all six of us into one room at the overcrowded inn. We see behind the scenes into Flynn’s hair care routine. What, you think he looks this dashing naturally? He has product for his beard and moustache.

Flynn is sicker than he was after Valeria gave him the Pat Pat of health yesterday, but better than he was when he came in. He had advantage to his roll today, for Reasons the DM won’t disclose. He’s putting up a brave front, and is definitely putting some extra effort into looking dashing and healthy. Somebody get him his fancy hat!

Meanwhile, having spent the whole night in close quarters with Valeria, Clem, and Fiona, Shoshana wonders: why is every woman she meets improbably jacked? What even is her life.

The plan, just to recap: We’re heading to a place called Bad Herzfeld, because we’ve heard it’s overflowing with the rare herbs and plants we need as spell components for the ritual we found in the manor house, which should purify the water supply of Mornheim. (Somebody’s been sticking their Taint in the water. HURR HURR)

We take a moment to question why, if it was a mage working in the von Mornheim manor, are the ingredients of the spell so druidic, and the spell written in archaic Old Valdian like a druid might speak? Druids live in the woods making friends with badgers; this was a bona fide wizardy laboratory. Shoshana rolls to see if she can figure it out and nat 1′s. What do you mean this isn’t what all wizard shit looks like?

Valeria also rolls to figure it out and rolls...not much better. Maybe there was a druid squatting in an old wizard lab? Who knows. Magics is magics.

We have a thin, unfulfilling soup for breakfast, and then split up to prepare for travel.

Valeria immediately heads off over by the city gates. She tells the DM that her activity will need ten minutes, and that “you know what I’m doing.” The rest of us have to wait in suspense.

Shoshana stops in to double-check on the doctor; she’s realized that it’s pretty likely that any corpses will get up just like Sokolov did, and she’s pretty sure the locals have figured that out but needs to double check. Turns out that yes, the Doctor has been burning the bodies. Cremation isn’t common in Valdia; if you live in a forest, funeral pyres tend to set the trees on fire. But you do what you gotta in a zombie apocalypse.

Clem organizes her kit and sharpens her sword, then takes a little while to read through the Sturmhearst journals she picked up from the book merchant. There’s an article about research into “replacing lost limbs with synthetic troll blood made of fungus.” Given what we’ve just found out about fungus people... thaaaaat could be bad.

Gral interrupts her reading to awkwardly ask Clem about when he used his magic lutestrings to wooble her. “How did it feel? I’d like to make sure I don’t kill someone by accident.

Clem thinks about the experience, which did come with a chunk of psychic damage. “It wasn’t painful, or necessarily unpleasant?” she says, thoughtfully. “But it was unpleasant in its unexpected nature. Like when the surface of a pond starts rippling – but you’re made of air instead of water – I dunno if I’m describing it right? But it was like that.”

Gral sits down next to her. “After acquiring the strings, my best test subject was self. You get used to it quickly. Maybe it’s not good to get used to it?”

Clem nods. “Yeah, it’s probably bad to get used to it.” She shows the journals to Gral to get his opinion, since the orcs have had skirmishes with fungal zombies before. The paper details the formula derived from a strange new fungus, but doesn’t really give any details about the fungus itself, so Gral doesn’t have much to go on.

As they flip through the journals, they also find a paper about fungal infection and potential treatments, by a Professor Alma Ulmus. Useful for Flynn, perhaps?

Clem med checks well and grasps the concepts pretty well. The paper details several techniques for dealing with fungal infection. There are some theories about ways to selectively target the infection with necrotic damage and certain medicines/poisons. Unfortunately, the techniques tend to come with hefty risks to the wellness of the patient, since you’re basically injecting a toxin that is mildly more deadly to the fungus than to the patient. It’s chemo, basically.

(We go down a conversational rabbit hole re: magic cancer and magical chemotherapy techniques, and have to get wrangled back on track.)

None of the treatments are outlined in enough detail for us to use. Mostly it’s an update about ongoing research initiatives, in case anyone wants to give the good Professor some grant funding.

(”The results aren’t peer reviewed yet - Who am I kidding, Sturmhearst doesn’t peer review.” “They used to, back in the good old days!” says our ghost scalpel.)

Valeria has, meanwhile, found a decent spot to perform her holy ritual, and lets the other players know that “we” are coming to meet up with the group. The first player to realize what’s going on squeals a little.

Valeria, in fact, has cast Seek Steed. (Yes, the PHB calls it Find Steed, but alliteration is important!)

Something is walking alongside Valeria, pressing its large reptilian head to her chest affectionately. It’s similar to the creatures we’ve seen pulling Lucinius’ cart but it’s thinner, taller, more fine-boned. It is a faintly glowing lilac color, with silver reaching up to almost its knee on one foreleg and its ankle on the opposite hind leg, with a silvery crescent on forehead.

“Oh my god, it’s a crocodile,” Shoshana’s player gasps.

“It’s an ALLIGATOR,” Valeria’s player returns indignantly.

Valeria pets the cool dinosaur behind its skull and tells it its name is Aethis. (It’s named for the aether from which it arose, being a celestial mount.) Rack, in his divine kindness, also had Aethis show up with a very fancy saddle. It has a rose embossed on it, and as Valeria names the creature, “Aethis” appears embossed on the saddle in Draco-Aquilian. The reptilian mount is faintly glowing purple.

Its pronouns are they/them, because it is a celestial being of divine energy that has taken mortal form for Valeria’s convenience; what even is a gender.

The rest of us stare. “...Where did you get that.”

“Rack gave them to me!”

“Just, like, now? While I was in the bathroom?”

“There’s a ritual. It’s a paladin thing.”

Shoshana awkwardly waves at the lizard. Gral obligingly holds out his hand for sniffs. Aethis sniffs him. Heartened, Shoshana cautiously moves forward for awkward pats on the head, which Aethis accepts.Shosha awkwardly pats. Aethis accepts the pats. Gral(‘s player) is like I PLAY WITH THE PUPPY even though it’s an Alligator Horse.

(The locals are like, what the fuck is that thing??? Like it’s obviously a paladin’s celestial steed, but……it’s THAT THING. Former-Kyr Crabber is not around to miss his long-gone mount.)

We don’t see Aubrey around – she was on watch last night, so she’s probably sleeping. Skulbjor the troll is watching the gate.

“Hi, folks. Oh, lookit dat. You didn’t come in with that,” he says, appreciating Aethis. And hey! More folks came in last night - the one that doesn’t talk and the one that talks too much. So where ya headed? Back into the necropolis for another mission?”

We tell him all about our mission for spell components and fungus problems.

“Alright, well, don’t got time to process all that right now,” he says slowly as his troll-brain tries to catch up. “Let’s say good luck and I’ll tell Lady Aubrey you went to get some medicines. All right, best of luck to ya. Stay away from that grove what’s north of the road, the watchman heard some things movin’ around in there. I like your new chomper.”

Skulborg proceeds to scritch our new chomper with one big troll finger. “Aww, ’s a good chomper.” Aethis accepts the scritches.

We leave the dreary town of Mornheim. And as we leave its twisted trees and grim orchards and rows of graves, we feel the sun on your face, and it feels a little like we’ve been holding our breath in all this time. The sun feels warmer and we all feel a bit more alive, having left that place.

According to our best map, some of the roads go through Dead Towns, which people generally go around. Traveling in the Cursewood is a lot of back roads these days. You take the main road where you can, but some places are just impassable now – disrepair, or spooky monsters, or sometimes a town just vanishes and people wisely decide not to go where it used to be.

The result of this is that all of us have maps, and none of them match. Being a cartographer is a very stressful job right now, okay? Luckily, a good Survival check keeps us on the trail. We’re going for a town called Three Oaks Junction, which is more of a permanent camp than a proper town. We can get a better map there. It’s basically a three-way crossroads of some major roads; a travel stop that has a large enough occupancy of tents and carts that it can function as a safe stopover and makeshift town. We’re about two days out from there.

How long do we have until the troll moot? Fiona starts signing, and Flynn translates. Trolls don’t exactly subscribe to the mail, so they’re very slow to get the word out and get together. It’s less of meeting and more like a short-term living situation for times of crisis. They rarely last very long – trolls are solitary because they eat a lot of food. A large population of trolls in one place needs a LOT of food, and a big gathering is only done in extreme situations where there’s access to large food stockpile. There hasn’t been one in at least 200 years; mostly they’re just talked about in old songs. So we have plenty of time, but we want to shut it down long before any momentum starts up. If we can stop trolls from hearing about the moot in the first place, that might be the best for everyone.

(As we travel, we have our usual silly arguments, this time about Aethis: Celestial war mounts do not need to eat, although war gators are obligate carnivores. So Aethis can eat meat if they want to, right? In that case, what happens to that food?

“HOW IT POOP, DM? WRITE THE LORE!”

“It’s not a real gator, it doesn’t poop!”

“It waits until it’s unsummoned, and then it poops ALL AT ONCE in the celestial plane.”

“Dude? Dude? Curse you.”

“Was that a....lore dump?”

“CUUUUUURSES.”

I am told to please excise this from the record. I absolutely do not follow instructions.)

We’re boppin along and making decent time. As we travel, Valeria rolls good insight and sees through Flynn’s stiff upper lip, and insists on pushing another Lay On Hands of curing disease into him. Again, it clears his symptoms but doesn’t end the disease.

It’s late afternoon when we see a decently sized cottage by the side of road. It looks pleasant! There’s flower boxes in the windows, blooming picturesquely. There’s a cart next to it, loaded up with furniture and stuff, and a sign nailed to a tree nearby that says “MOVING SALE! CURIOS, ODDS AND ENDS. COOKIES PROVIDED WITH PURCHASE.”

Valeria is intrigued by cookies. Clem always likes a curio.

There’s a young girl running about and an old lady in a rocking chair, out in front of the house. The young girl is carrying things from the house to the cart. There’s a little table next to the old woman’s chair with a tray of cookies, as well as a surprisingly sturdy looking box. The old lady waves. “Oh, hello!”

We come say hi. “Yes, I’m moving in with my daughter and my granddaughter here! Say hi, honey.” The little girl waves hello and continues to help pack the cart. “My daughter and her family say it’s not safe out here alone for old woman. I resisted as long as I could. I can handle myself, but just last week as Rosie here was coming to visit, a werewolf almost attacked me! So I figured it was finally time to pack up and go.”

(Yes, we picked up on the Little Red Riding Hood joke.)

Clem immediately insight checks the little old lady, and nat 20′s. She is being perfectly trustworthy. Actually, she’s playing up the helpless little old lady act a little too hard. Clem thinks that she might have killed that werewolf herself. She’s got no intent to harm us, except maybe rip us off a little.

Clem shrugs. We ARE a group of 6 well armed strangers and a war gator. She’s got every right to be a bit on guard and play up the friendliness. She’s legit.

“Most of the things I’m not bringing with me are inside. Go take a look around! I traveled quite a lot in my youth, and I still have a few souvenirs!”

Valeria ties Aethis outside – in sight but not right up on the old lady, who is not spooked by Aethis at all. (Valeria is slightly offended that everyone is a little spooked by them. They’re just a gator! Gators are everywhere, it’s not like they’re a big deal!)

We enter the charming cottage and, well...that’s not what we expected. It’s absolutely stuffed, and it’s stuffed with COOL-ASS STUFF. There’s paintings and trophies lining the walls. That’s definitely a giant’s axe hanging there, carved with ancient runes. There’s a sultry oil painting taking up most of one wall, a picture of a young woman halfway out a window, turning to face the camera, smiling wickedly and clutching a gem as she prepares to rappel out the window. There’s big ol’ treasure-chest-lookin’ chests and boxes everywhere. There’s an old Aquilian war banner, hanging as a decorative tapestry. Gral spots some Orcish artifacts.

Who IS this woman?! Maybe she’s the protagonist of our spinoff prequel.

The first thing Valeria does, of course, is cast Detect Magic to see what glows. A beat, and then she just starts pointin’ everywhere. EVERY-DANG-THING is magic.

Gral ponders sagely. “I’m starting to think she may have overplayed the helpless old lady thing.”

Let’s investigate for stuff we wanna buy! Gral would like a projectile weapon, or perhaps some armor? Or a nice brooch. He finds a pack of 5 crossbow bolts inscribed with some sort of rune.

The old lady sticks her head in to see how we’re doing. “Ah yes, can I help you find anything? I know it’s a bit of a mess, I’m in the middle of moving.” She spots Gral holding the bolts. “Oh, those are Bolts of Heart Seeking! They’re quite nice, I think. They’ll run you at least a hundred. I was asked to get rid of most of the deadlier souvenirs…” Gral buys them. 5 bolts, each granting advantage on the attack and an expanded crit range.

Shoshana looks for something protective, given her terrible caster AC.

“I’m sorry, dearie, I sold my old armor set a while back,” the old lady tells her, but she rustles in a drawer and pulls out a little bag. “This was big help back in the old days whenever I got cornered by some-”

“Grandma-” interjects the granddaughter, warningly.

“Well! Anyway, this will make anything that breathes sneeze and cough! 100 gold, and don’t say where you got it if you use it for anything illegal.” It’s 3 doses of Dust of Sneezing and Choking. Shoshana considers, but passes.

Clem doesn’t have much money after splurging on her new armor. She’s gonna save it.

Valeria looks for - well, she wants books, also anything that matches the Order of the Rose aesthetic, since she just found Kyr Marius’ old dagger. She doesn’t find anything recent - maybe some stuff decorated with floral designs, but nothing that would have been lost in the Crusade at the Summer Palace. She does find a shrine to the trickster god Guile in one corner of the room, and more importantly, a collection of rare books! None are magical, sadly.

Valeria picks up a book about an expedition to an ancient Aquilian flying city. “Ah yes, that one was a comp copy! It all happened maybe 40 years ago?” the elderly lady chirps.

“Oh, did you write this?” Valeria inquires politely.

“Oh, goodness, no, I didn’t write it – I’m in it!” Sure enough, the cover has a lovely picture of a dashing lady-adventurer who looks suspiciously similar to the one in the painting.

We ask her name. “Jolene. Or Josephine. Johanna, sometimes. I think I’m Jolene in the book. Yes, those were good old days…”

She holds out a rod with a grappling hook on both ends. “This old girl’s seen a lot of the world with me. I picked it up from that nice artificer in Galway. It produces ropes! You push this button to launch the grapple, see-” she says, demonstrating, “-and this one to wind it in.”

“It’s a clever bit of machinery,” Valeria admits.

“Oh, he mostly cheated with magic.” We pass on the Rod of Ropes, but it’s caught Flynn’s eye. After a short bickering session of increasingly rapid hand-signs, he buys it.

Gral asks about all orc stuff. “That was all a gift from orc leader some years back.”

“Oh? Who was it?”

“Ven’shek was the last name. His people mostly called him One-Ear?”

Gral’s jaw drops, like an indie band kid who found out their grandma knew Les Paul personally. “YOU KNEW ONE-EAR?!”

Gral’s history roll gives him some context: One-Ear was a bard, and he was a pretty big deal. He had two ears; he was just deaf in one after rocking out too hard at one point. He’d fought an evil necromancer who was trying to animate mummies of the honored dead, leading a group of bards to put a stop to that nonsense. He unleashed a sonic blast so powerful it buried the necromancer in an avalanche, but also blew out his left eardrum.

The old lady seems unfazed. “Yeah. He had two ears! He kept wanting us to ask why, but I wasn’t gonna fall for that.” Hanging on the wall is a bona-fide autographed copy of One-Ear’s bard mask, similar to the one Gral wears.

Gral is still Absolutely Gobsmacked. “He was before my time but I’ve always really admired his work!”

“Yes, good times. He wanted my help with retrieving a thing from a-” Her voice drops to a mumble, “-dragon’s hoard.”

We check out a few more items. There’s a perpetually bloodstained sword sitting in the corner, with teeth carved in the hilt, quietly whispering, “feeeeeeeeed” to itself, which we leave well alone. There’s Gloves of Thievery and a Handy Haversack for sale, as well as a small silver raven ornament that Ms. Jolene claims will deliver messages. “Oh, I got that little thing in the flying city! It’s an Aquilian device originally meant to carry messages between their cities. It’ll deliver a spoken message or a letter. If it can’t get there in 24 hours, it’ll come right back to you. I was sort of hoping to use it to correspond with old friends...”

Awww. We won’t take it away from her, then. We WILL pool some cash for that Haversack, though. “We had good times together. I’m a bit sad to see it go,” the old lady admits, patting it fondly. Sure enough, the small black-and-grey bag is there in her painting, on the hip of the sexy thief.

That’s about all the cash we want to spend, but the sun’s starting to go down and this seems about as safe a place to camp as any. Old Woman Jolene doesn’t mind.

Flynn takes the opportunity to play with his new Rod of Ropes. “Fiona, hold my hat! I’m gonna try it out!”

Fiona signs to Shoshana, which with a bit of insight she figures out means, “Can you cast Feather Fall?”

“Nope.”

Fiona signs something to Flynn.

“Thank you, Shoshana! I’ll be sure to shout if I need your help!”

He does some acrobatics off the roof of the house, but he hasn’t had the practice with this thing yet. “Shoshana, now would be a good time to-” He falls flat on his face.

Fiona does her weird cough-laugh at him as he dusts off with an overdramatic scowl.

That’s our adventure at Jolene’s Lifetime-of-Adventuring Surplus. Jolene’s Stolen Goods Boutique: She takes them just because she caaaaaaan.

Given what we know about Ms. Jolene, we all keep an eye on our purses that night. Luckily, it seems like she’s trying to downsize.

In the morning, Flynn is not doin’ great, coughing hard and looking pale. Valeria Lays on Hands again, negating his symptoms. But we’re gonna need a permanent solution eventually.

Shoshana rolls a mediocre medicine check. The illness is from the inhaled spores from the farmer’s son, and it’s mostly respiratory. Maybe Shosha could brew a tea that could help with some of the symptoms, but she doesn’t have a supply of the right herbs, and Valeria’s got the symptoms covered for now. Ah well, it was worth a try.

We get on the road and roll into Three Oaks Junction later that day. There are indeed oaks there, significantly more than thee. Like we expected, it’s more of a big camp than a normal town – there are a few permanent structures, like a sheriff’s depot, but most folks here are living out of tents. There’s a big marketplace where many traveling merchants and local farmers come to trade, sort of a perpetual bazaar.

Valeria & Clem work together to write up a letter to Ambassador Khoshev with the warning about the Red Hand’s assassination plans. They give Clem’s name and rank for veracity and slap Valeria’s noble seal on it to give it priority. Asking around, they’re told there’s actually a courier service with a permanent shop over by the founder’s statue. Bonus, not only can they get a message to the Ambassador, they can also get a message over to Holzog, where Clem knows there are messengers who could get a message back to her “caravan,” which she hasn’t mentioned to the other three before.

Clem and Val head over to Red Raven Couriers to send their letter. Clem also sends parcel of gems to her caravan, the ones that we found in the Mornheim manor, about 100g total. The halfling clerk asks if the packages have any valuables we’d like to insure. Clem insights him, he seems like a trustworthy professional instead of someone who’ll go through her mail for loot. “The package for Holzog is valuable, I’d rather delay it if it will get extra security. The message is the opposite - it’s urgent, and there is no material value.”

The package of gems will go on the next well-guarded stagecoach, and the message will go immediately on a relay of fast horses. Valeria makes sure to tip extra well. Red Raven Couriers: Leave at sunup, there by nightfall.™ (Disclaimer: this is not a guarantee of one night service. We do not travel by night. What, do you think we’re crazy?)

Their job done, they take a look at the statue of Three Oaks Junction’s founder. It’s a drow! There’s two captions, a rather short one in Valdian and a much longer one in the Drow language.

Valeria reads off the Valdian: THREE OAKS // TOWN FOUNDER.

Clem can see the Drow caption has the elf’s full name: “Born to Clan Shenkel on a Rainy Night Under the Shelter of Three Oak Trees.” Ah, that’s where the town name comes from!

Clem’s pretty chuffed! “I’m very pleased to see people who aren’t averse to drow in this area! There’s even a statue, and not a burning heap where the statue used to be!”

The folks at the courier are happy to share the founding story. Three Oaks was a skilled wagon repair-person, and set up a wagon repair station at a good high-traffic spot. It became a local fixture, she eventually settled down and built a real shop, and that was the start of the town!

Clem knows: If drow know anything, it’s how to fix wagons. And care for horses. Good for this Three Oaks for making an opportunity of it!

Towering over the town, a distance from the main thoroughfares, is a large black and white striped tent. There’s a circus, scheduled for tonight! Valeria gets excited about the possibility of Night Circus.

Clem has never seen a circus. Gral has never seen a Valdian circus. Valeria has seen many traveling shows. Shoshana’s seen a couple significantly less fancy traveling shows. Flynn and Fiona are excited to go to the circus. Everybody’s like, yeah, let’s have a night off, let’s have fun!

We worry that Gral, as a performer, might be That Guy: “Their technique was horrible, frankly, I’ve seen better-”

We’re hype! Let’s get CIRCUS SNACKS. There’s spiced nuts and funnel cakes. Clem gets a funnel cake. Shoshana is deeply disappointed to learn that cotton candy has not been invented yet.

Valeria goes over to get some spiced nuts. The nuts stand is run by a red dragonborn, obviously named Bophades. (He tells us he has brothers, Joe and Ligma.)

Valeria doesn’t know how much to pay the guy, and we meme about it. How Much Could Nuts Cost, Clementine? One Gold? Ah, nobles.

A few performers are starting to walk around to work the crowd. Everything in the circus is black and white, like a fun theme. All the performers have pristine white facepaint.

We realize we should probably not bring Large Greatswords into a theater, so we stash Clem’s sword, Valeria’s tridents, and the Eyegis with Aethis. Hey, Aethis has the Eyegis, Valeria basically has a large lizard camera drone to look through! Cool. Valeria buys Aethis a live chicken as a snack, even though celestial steeds don’t need to eat. “We’ll come back soon, I love you~!”

Shoshana’s anxiety cloak is freaking out, but, like, it freaked out around the cool old lady too. Does this thing have a snooze button?

We all find our seats, passing around snacks and jostling with the crowd. Outside the sky is darkening, and Dancing Lights come up all around the tent, swirling and casting shadows. A ringmaster in a black-and-white jester’s motley comes out. The lights all focus around him,

“Hello, everyone,” he calls to the crows, in the practiced cadence of a seasoned performer. “We live in troubled times. This wood is not a very fine place. So tonight, in this tent, open your minds and your hearts and join me as I take you to a kingdom far away - yet as close as you allow it to be! First, walk with me as we approach the land of my king. We must approach the borders, guarded as they are!”

Braziers burst into flame all around the perimeter of the tent with a big oooh from the crowd! Jugglers begin tossing batons between them, forming a high arch, which the ringmaster walks under. “Cross the border with me!” he calls. “These woods are dangerous place, but my lord’s marksmen are expert.” Each baton is shot out of the air at the apex of their arch by an arrow! The jugglers catch them expertly, and demonstrate that each arrow has struck the dead center of a target painted on each baton!

Gral murmurs an aside: “I have the memories of every orc performer who ever lived, I’ve seen better, there was this one guy-”

Shoshana dope slaps him. Shut up and enjoy the show, doofus.

After a pause for the audience to applaud the archers, the jester continues. “And now, our master, my king, is building a bridge! A vast river lies before us!” Performers come out, shaking a long blue cloth between them. “But fear not, we will cross it!” A pair of strongmen start heaving around big ol’ beams of wood, while acrobats start making their way across the tops of the whirling beams in an impressive display of balance and coordination. The beams are moved into place, and one strongman lifts ringmaster with one hand up to them. The ringmaster mounts the ‘bridge’ and walks across. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bridge builders!”

There’s another round of applause. Clem and Valeria are enthusiastic. Even Gral is starting to get into it.

“But before we can approach the castle and visit my master’s court –” the jester warns us. We her galloping hooves (or possibly coconut shell) noises. “Ah, yes! Do you hear who’s come to greet us! The knights of the Black and White!” Everyone claps, the ringmaster throws something in the braziers, and the arena fills with smoke. As horses carrying stunt riders circle the big top, we must all make wisdom saves. Valeria is informed she may do so with proficiency. We’re all lucky enough to save, except Flynn.

As the smoke hits Valeria, she realizes – there’s something wrong here. Once tent has filled with smoke from the smoke bombs – it was to set up dramatic entrance, but…the ringmaster’s describing this glorious kingdom where nobody has to fear any death or dismemberment, where the power of his king is absolute. There’s something weird about the smoke. Something weird about the performers and their flickering shadows. She can’t quite place it...

The show has moved along. There’s a knife thrower, a fire breather, and a sword swallower performing now as the “village blacksmith” as the procession “approaches the court”. It’s a whole routine.

Something Is Wrong.

The ringmaster’s patter about this king has become increasingly creepy. Fiona is giving us the side eye. Meanwhile, Flynn and most of audience are slack jawed and enraptured. I mean, it’s a pretty impressive show, but the imagery is getting macabre.

The crowd is no longer applauding after each performance. Everyone is just sitting there, completely entranced. Clem murmurs, “Does this...usually happen at circuses?”

Valeria glances through the Eyegis. The camp outside is perfectly normal, no fires or thieves or anything this might be a distraction from. She cuts back to the here and now.

Right now there’s two guys with halberds, with acrobats dancing on tips, performing as the “castle guards.” Shoshana pokes Flynn, who doesn’t react at all as he stares unblinking at the black-and-white figures. Fiona scoffs - just a poke? Please - and slugs her brother in the stomach. He snaps out of his trance as he gasps for breath, sputtering “WHAT WHY WOULD Y-mmph!” as she slaps a hand over his mouth and shushes him.

Gral hisses, “If we make a scene, they’ll know. Pretend like you’re watching the performance!”

We all perception check. Gral figures it out: the entire time, those dancing lights and braziers have been casting wild, flickering shadows of the rapidly moving acrobats and the people in costume armor But he gets clear look under the acrobats for just one second, and realizes: they’re casting the shadows of skeletons.

These are undead. The king the ringmaster wants us to visit is none other than the Pale King himself.

Clem is very glad she kept her warhammer on her.

There’s maybe 80-100 people in audience. If we act, the civilians might be collateral damage.

The bad guys wouldn’t know us by look. Maybe we pretend to be enraptured like the rest of audience and wait for them to reveal their big plan. That, or we could just rush the guy leading circus.

The ringmaster is narrating entering the castle gates. The smoke started the process, but clearly the performance has something to do with keeping it going. Shoshana’s all for casting Shatter into the center of the ring - maybe a loud enough noise will wake up the audience. Valeria’s not sure.

Gral and Valeria want to wait and see; Clem and Shoshana want to disrupt the performance before they finish enthralling the audience. Valeria’s player flips us a coin. Our answer? Disrupt.

We refocus in on the plot of the show. The audience has been invited into the great hall, and a feast has been laid out for us – there’s a huge table, with acrobats and jugglers doing a routine where they’re tossing around plates and chairs. We have to roll deception, and we do good enough that they don’t notice we’re snapped out of it, but the ringmaster is definitely scanning the crowd for anyone who’s not under yet.

At this point, the macabre stuff has become overt. The “castle servants” are setting plates with skulls and crawling hand bones. It’s Obvious Curse at this point. We agree that this is a really cool, goth circus theme, but we would prefer it to maybe...not end with the whole crowd becoming zombies?

Gral decides to Dispel Magic the smoke. To hell with subtlety, we’re going for disruption. He stands up and strikes an echoing POWER CHORD!!! Rolling well, he dispels the effect of the smoke, shouting, “The show is over!”

As he strikes his lute, a tangible soundwave goes out through the audience. A ripple goes through the smoke, and it starts to fade. The Dancing Lights flicker and come back up. With the spell gone, we can see clearly: the performers are still dressed up, but the acrobats, strongmen, etc. are all visibly rotting or skeletal.

The crowd, suddenly jerked out of the mass charm effect, predictably panics.

The ringmaster turns and looks directly at Gral. In his ringing showman’s voice, he bellows, “GET THEM. THE KING COMMANDS IT.”

Shoshana centers a Shatter on the table full of dancing acrobats, trying to get as many low level undead as she can. Bone shards fly everywhere as all but one of the skeletons explode into bits, with a deafening BOOM that drowns out the circus music. A shame, since this is a dope-ass circus.

(The DM comments: If we’d let it get to end, it would have definitely gotten a bit King in Yellow. We drew a red card at the end of last session, so we get to meet an Avatar of the Curse. This here is the Ringmaster, also known as The Fool.)

Clem, Valeria, and the Fairgolds dash toward the Ringmaster. Valeria has her adamantine wrench. Clem has her warhammer. Fiona has hers, too. Just three super buff ladies with hammers…and Flynn.

“I’ve got an aesthetic, it’s called Swashbuckler? We don’t use hammers!”

“If he used a hammer, he’d be a Squashbuckler.”

“Or a Smashbuckler?”

“That’s alright,” he quips, summoning his pistol, “I’ve got another kind of hammer I can use…”

(”Is it his penis?” asks everyone who has ever seen Dr. Horrible.

“It’s the HAMMER OF THE GUN, it’s not his penis!” sighs the DM.)

Shoshana aims another Shatter on the remaining zombie strongmen and their table, but they have better CON than a bunch of bones, so it doesn’t have quite the dramatic effect. Flynn shoots the Ringmaster with his pistol. As the shot hits home, he drops the pistol and snaps his fingers, a second pistol materializing in his hand. This time the shot goes wild.

The Fool howls, “GET THEM!” and the two strongmen rush at our tanks, picking up chunks of table to wallop our melee fighters with, mumbling “In the name of the king!” in their garbled zombie voices. The Fool begins to rise into the air, which is never a good sign. He points at Shoshana and in an echoing voice demands she KNEEL. She flips him off. She ain’t kneeling for no floaty-ass pale-faced clown!

Gral Banes the strongmen and the acrobat. The zombies are zom-baned. Clem sees them waiting to clobber her with chunks of table and is like “I can take ‘em,” and rushes in, carving a chunk out of the nearest one. The zombies don’t seem to be trying to defend themselves - they’re just balls of rotting meat in between us and the real threat. I mean, they’re swinging broken table legs at us, but they’re whiffing hard. Valeria casts Shield of Faith on herself and Cone of Colds them. One save, one fail. Thanks, Bane! (”I love Bane!” “I love you too, citizens of Gotham!”) The one who failed its save and got Clemmed is bloodied. Fiona, raging, does 35 damage in a single turn and bloodies the other strongman. Her mouth is open like a battle-frenzy scream, but it’s just coming out as a hiss.

Shoshana takes a thrown knife from the last skeleton acrobat, and brushes it off. Then she realizes that unlike the others who charged in, she and Gral are still in the middle of the crowd. A crowd that is freaking the fuck out.

Shoshana promptly takes more damage from getting Crowd Trampled than she has from the actual enemies. (Gral gets buffeted around, too, but at least he stayed standing.)

Hey, did you know that The Fool gets lair actions? Arrows, like the ones that shot down the jugglers’ batons, fly in, targeting Gral, Clem, and Fiona. They even seem to change direction in midair to target him. These are ghost arrows! (Which does make the whole baton trick less impressive in hindsight. Cheaters.)

Shoshana staggers to her feet and throws a Chromatic Orb of acid at the Fool. Flynn’s sword burns with green flames as he brings it down on a strongman zombie. The flame spreads between them and burns at their rotted flesh. One of ‘em nearly smacks Clem, but Gral’s Bane comes to the rescue, and Valeria gets to Sentinel him! She brings the adamantium wrench down on him with two hands. CRONCH.

Strong Boi #2 punches Flynn in the face – or tries. “Ha! My sister punches better than that!”

The zombie is like, “We’re fighting your sister! That’s a compliment!” Or it would, if this was The Road to El Dorado. Mostly it just grunts.

The Fool gestures grandly, and we all must make Charisma saves. Shoshana and Fiona fail and are Baned. (Hey, no fair using our own tactics on us!) Also, he’s calling reinforcements. We hear the hoofbeats of the stunt horsemen as they charge back into the arena. Without the obscuring magic of the smoke, we can clearly see these are skeletal steeds, ridden by terrible, ethereal spectres waving big ol’ cavalry sabers. They are not headless horsemen; they have heads. We vow to change that.

(These are Sword Wraiths, for anyone who’s keeping track. Also, shout out to Skeleton Horse from our last campaign, forever in our hearts.)

Gral Phantasmal Forces one of the strongmen. The zombie hears a terrible crunchin’ noise. In his mind, the nearly destroyed table has come to life! The shards of wood invert inward, and now there’s a big mouth chompin’ at him! He turns around and starts fighting a table. The Ringmaster facepalms.

Clem channels the scalpel ghost and makes an excellent medicine check. Professor Wendell hmms, and points out a weak spot on the one Gral has just targeted. Clem pops the darn thing’s skull like a weird melon. He died, knowing he was getting eaten by a table. RIP.

Valeria tries to charge past the other strongman, but takes a solid hit of opportunity and gets knocked to the ground. She gets back up and returns the favor. The acrobat skeleton - oh, we forgot about that guy - throws more knives! Have a Knife Day, Valeria. (It doinks off her armor harmlessly.) Fiona smacks at the last big fella.

The spectral riders form a second barrier between the tanks and the Fool as the strongmen fall. They throw some spears at Clem and Flynn.

The crowd knocks Shoshana over again. This is how she ends: stepped on by frightened civilians in a puddle of popcorn. You’re all gosh darn lucky she hasn’t gone evil yet.

The DM makes a Secret Roll. It’s a success! Valeria’s the first to hear the result, a thudding of claws on hard-packed dirt, and then we see the crowd parting as Aethis the war gator charges toward us, bringing our weapons. They wanted to help! They did a good job!!! We’d give them scritches but we’re, like, in a fight.

We get hit by more ghost arrows, and then Shoshana drags herself to her feet and twins another Chromatic Orb, shooting lightning at both of the spectral riders, who up close look like elven nobles. She then hides behind a chair, in the vague hope that no one else will stomp on her. Flynn stabs one of the riders with his green-flamed rapier, and the flame flickers between both of them.

The remaining strongboi hits Valeria for a big slam, but no one’s looking at them anymore. The Ringmaster, hovering above, begins to distort his body horribly. He distends his limbs, extending his body to spidery and unnatural proportions, and leers at us all with a manic, wild grin. The melee fighters all make WIS saves. Valeria and Flynn are now Frightened of him. As his lips stretch into an even wider rictus, his head rotates on its neck in a deeply unnatural way and his fingerbones stretch out into slender, vicious claws.

Gral inspires Clem, and Dissonant Whispers the strongman. It instantly drops dead. (”You scared a zombie to death. Metal AF.”) The spectral riders close ranks with their shields, forming a barrier between the melee fighters and the Fool, but Clem and Dr. Wendel are READY TO OPERATE! Clem misses one, but maneuvers on attack 2 to try to trip a skeleton horse. Action Surge! She crits the ghost to death, exploding it into mist, its horse falling apart into an inert pile of bones. Her final attack goes to the other horseman with a Distracting Strike. I mean, she did just pulverize his buddy, that’s pretty distracting.

Valeria is afeared of the Creepy Jester (which is taxonomically distinct from a creepy clown, we are told to note.) She takes the opportunity to Lay On Hands herself. The DM is kinda surprised that paladins don’t have resistance to fear in 5e. OH HI AETHIS!!!! They’ve run up to Valeria with her sword and shield. What a good gator!!!! Valeria grabs the Eyegis, and her AC goes back up.

The lone skeleton acrobat is like why r u guise ignoring me??? and throws a knife at Clem. We continue to ignore it. Fiona charges the ringmaster, Clem continues to duel the remaining rider, and the unforgiving crowd continues to trample Gral and Shoshana.

Clem, Fiona, and Flynn all take hits from the ghost arrows. Fiona shrugs it off, but Flynn’s not looking too hot. Shoshana chugs a healing potion (because of freakin’ CROWD DAMAGE!) and dives behind a tent pillar.

The Fool cackles eerily, and everybody under 10 health must make CON save. He was trying to give us all taint, but everybody affected manages to save. He swipes at Fiona with his Horrible Claws, but she blocks with her hammer.

Gral Dissonant Whispers the remaining rider, who nat-1s. It’s scared bad, and Clem does the honors, catching it with her hammer as it passes by. “AH-AH, YOU ARE NOT DISCHARGED!” cries Dr. Wendell. As it flees, the ghost dissipates, and horse tumbles into a mess of bones, carried forward by its own momentum.

Now it’s Clem’s proper turn, and she’s gonna hit the Fool!!!! But first, Second Wind. Miss one, hit one, MANEUVER! Trip Attack! She knocks him prone!

Valeria rides Aethis to the Fool, then dismounts, and Aethis dashes to get to the acrobat. Valeria brings her wrench down on the Fool. She Smites him good. (He is undead, so smite does a Lot.) He makes a goofy OOF! Sound and begins to wriggle up from the ground, and then she just SLAMS him back down. Flattened. After a hit like that, I almost PITY the Fool.

Look, SOMEONE was gonna make that joke.

The acrobat throws knives at Valeria! It crits, but like, it’s a knife. Valeria doesn’t care. Fiona drops one warhammer and just pins the Fool on the ground, grappling him. Raging, she gets advantage. Pinning him down with one arm, she swings her hammer down with the other. He contorts oddly, moving out of the way of one blow, but gets hit by her second slam.

The ghost arrows are back! They all target Fiona. As the arrows slam into her back, she just grits her teeth and takes it. Barbarians, man. Shoshana’s shot goes wide on the Fool as she snipes from afar. Flynn saves against his Frightened condition and starts escorting the last few crowd members out of the tent.

The Fool tries to contort out of Fiona’s grapple, but she keeps an iron grip on his wriggling limbs. Gral decides to join the melee party and stab with his Psychic Blades, finishing off the avatar of the Pale King. The circle of phantom orc warriors again rushes in as one. As he slices into the Fool with his sickle, the jester’s costume tears like a cloth bag, and a bunch of choking black mist bubbles out and away. Inside, there are only the barest, faintest hints of a skeletal form. His weird painted skull rolls away, a head in a jester’s cap locked in a rictus grin jingling absurdly across the big top.

Aethis swats the skeleton acrobat with its tail. It’s dead now.

The circus is silent. The last vestiges of the strange mist are blowing away. The tent is eerie, dark and cold.

Valeria makes a knowledge!Religion check. With the context that this was a weird Pale King thing, she realizes what was bothering her at the start of performance: she’s never been to a circus or play that didn’t open with an invocation to Guile, the god of trickery, illusion, and the arts.

Shoshana lies on the ground grumpily. Aethis comes over and offers a friendly shoulder to help her up. Shosha is like O__O because she’s looking into a massive faceful of teeth, but gingerly accepts the help up after being nudged and sniffed a bit.

Those ghost arrows were flying in from backstage. Let’s check out backstage! We find some quivers sitting there, but the arrows seem to be inert now that the Fool is dead. There are a few musical instruments in the hands of some deactivated skellies and zoms, collapsed awkwardly to the floor. There’s lots of props, costumes, makeup - all the regular circus stuff, including a tour map of places they’ve been. One more for Valeria’s collection!

We find some high-quality stage makeup, which seems a little magic. It might channel illusion magic particularly well? Gral takes a crack at understanding it. It’s not itself a magic item, but it’s designed as a good conduit for illusion spells. Gral takes it. It has 5 charges of enhancing illusion spells. Valeria takes one of the charges. We find some finely ground crystal, which seems to be what was thrown into the braziers. Valeria takes it.

We also have the creepy elongated skull of the Fool. Clem only wants it because her player used to be our party warlock. Fiona wants to smash it. We COULD bring it to the Cursebreakers, like responsible adults, but we’re all like SMASH IT SMASH IT WOOOOOO

We also find a throne on a litter, under a sheet. Is there something on the throne?

Valeria Detects Magic. There’s a lingering magic clinging to it, but fading rapidly. (The makeup and throne have a lot of Illusion and Enchantment; there’s a lot of necromancy generally everywhere.) Shoshana lifts the sheet with her stick. There’s a skeleton sitting in the throne. Not even an animated one. It’s wearing a very nice costume robe and has a crown on its head. Clearly, it’s meant to represent the Pale King, and the culmination of the circus act’s plot, but whatever power it once held was probably coming from the Fool. It’s inert now. We smack it with sticks. It engages in normal skeleton behavior. We want it to be on the floor in pieces, which it finds perfectly doable.

We snag some posters labeled “Feste’s Circus Presents: Journey to the Great Court” and start to head out.

We roll against Taint, but we’re fine. The initial Wis save against the smoke was the big taint risk - getting drawn into story could have been a disaster.

Gral theorizes on what exactly the Fool’s gambit was. There was spell worked into the performance. Its effects weren’t physical, like the disease in Mornheim. This was more like an elaborate, highly modified Mass Suggestion, bringing the people into a susceptible state and then implanting the idea of the glory and power of the Pale King. This wasn’t an attempt to make more undead; this was an attempt to indoctrinate more cultists.

As we exit the tent we remember - oh, right, there’s a big crowd panicking.

Luckily, we have a charismatic and noticeable person with us. A Large Shiny Paladin Riding a Fancy Magic-gator shouting “There is no more threat here, everything has been taken care of, let us talk to the sheriff,” definitely helps - people don’t necessarily believe her, but they’ll obey and let themselves get corralled. Flynn, very experienced in the public relations aspect of monster-fightin’, helps wrangle and pacify the crowd.

The sheriff of Three Oaks Junction has been summoned, and pushes through the nervous crowd to Valeria. “Kyr, thank you, I hear you’ve save us all – what do we do about this???”

Valeria puts on her best commanding voice. “The villainous troop itself has been dealt with; we have no idea if there is any other magical danger in the tent. Is it safe to burn it down?”

The Sheriff nods. “Oh, ya, local fire ordinances meant we had enough clearance around it; nothing else’ll catch.”

We get the townsfolk well clear of the area, and then Shoshana, whose player is appeased that she won’t start a godawful circus tent fire like in that documentary she saw once, Fireballs it. The tent burns merrily.

Flynn nods to his sister; it’s time for him to do what he does best. He rolls a decent performance check and steps into his role as Radiant Knight, dramatically recounting the battle for the shaken crowd. He focuses on making all of us look good, which is really nice! He lights up his sword with Green-Flame Blade as he gestures around with it, which is an excellent visual effect. He’s framed in front of the burning fire of the tent, and Gral performs an exciting score of back-up musical accompaniment.

“And then Kyr Argent strode forward, her sword flashing...”

(whispers) “I wasn’t using my sword”

“Ssshhh, it fits better, he’s embellishing.”

As camera pans up, following the smoke into the starry skies over the Cursewood, we end session.

#session recap #mornheim #three oaks junction #gral omokk'duu #clem haxan #valeria argent #shoshana bat chaya #flynn fairgold #fiona fairgold #The Pale King

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