#I have the worst headache and yet I prevail

[the-broken-pen]

Hiii, I love your writing! It's so great that you're back! Could you write something like two actors are playing hero/villain in a movie or theater, but both of them sometimes just gets too in character/or just gets too stuck in character, so for like moments they actually forget that they are just acting?

“You didn’t think I’d let you die by anyone else’s hand but mine, did you?” The villain cocked their head to the side, grinning.

Distantly, the hero registered the whispering of stage commands, but tuned it out.

“You can’t just kill anyone who threatens me,” they argued back. They watched as the villain’s grin sharpened.

“Watch me,” the villain whispered, stepping closer. Fake blood was drying on the side of the hero’s head, and it itched more than usual. Must be a new brand from costuming.

“I could arrest you,” they offered, but they let the hesitation show on their face. Visible enough for the camera to catch their unwillingness, no matter how fake it was. Good enough nobody could tell the difference between real and not.

“You won’t.”

The hero tipped one head to the side

“And why’s that?”

The hero shifted, leaning in towards the villain.

“Because you’re mine,” the villain whispered, tone playful as their eyes seared into the hero’s.

The hero’s mouth went dry. It wasn’t on purpose.

Something kindled in their chest.

“Oh yeah?”

The villain shrugged one shoulder in perfect time to the script, and the hero pulled the next line to the tip of their tongue—

“Prove it.”

That was not the next line.

That wasn’t a line at all.

The villain blinked just once, the only sign of surprise they would allow, before their grin widened. Their shoulders loosened into something feral, something that delighted in this change.

Something that belonged off-stage.

“I’m covered in the blood of the people who hurt you,” the villain’s voice was smooth sliding down the hero’s spine. They shivered. “What more proof do you want, love.”

They blushed furiously at the nickname, even underneath the stage makeup, and at the pleased look on the villain’s face, it was visible.

What was the line what was the line what—

Their hands fisted into the front of the villain’s costume, dragging them closer. The villain let them, hand settling on the hero’s waist in a movement far too smooth.

“I don’t know,” the hero murmured, and they were just as surprised as the villain when their lips hovered just over the other’s ear. “Why don’t you stop trying to kill me, for starters.”

The villain tugged them closer, and the hero’s eyes went to their lips.

The villain looked at the hero like they wanted to devour them.

Fuck, what had been the line—

“Oh, but you’re so pretty covered in blood, Hero,” the villain crooned, and the hero opened their mouth to say something, their tongue a separate entity from their brain at this point—

“Hold!” Someone off-stage called, and they both froze. A second later, they were halfway across the stage from one another. Slipping out of being the hero and back into being themself felt like hitting a brick wall.

If the way the villain shuddered was any indication, they had forgotten they were playing a character too.

The hero turned away to face the tech crew, hand settling over their face to hide their blush.

The villain’s gaze was molten and heavy on their shoulders, even from as far away as they were.

“I don’t think that’s in the blocking,” the stage manager frowned, flipping through the script.

None of that was the blocking. No matter how much the stage manager searched those pages they would never find those lines.

Fuck.

“Improv,” the hero choked out, flushing. “It was, uh. A creative choice—“

From behind one of the curtains, they heard a crew member snort, muttering something about teenage actors and horniness—

The villain was smirking, a wicked thing.

“Right,” the stage manager said slowly, brow furrowed from where they sat. They murmured something into their headset, eyes shifting up between the villain and the hero, before they slid a screen in front of themself.

Just barely, the hero could make out the shape of the scene they had just filmed.

The screen went black, the room silent for a moment, before the stage manager let out a long suffering sigh.

“We’re changing the blocking.”

“What?” The hero yelped.

The villain settled their hands into their pockets, unbothered and grinning.

“We’re keeping the scene,” the stage manager nodded towards their tablet, and the hero almost passed out on the spot. They watched the stage manager eye the pleased and possessive look on the villain’s face. “For now, though, let’s call it a wrap for the day.”

Shuffling began, lights flickering off, and the hero escaped to their own dressing room, panting slightly.

Dear god, they were so fucked. They had forgotten they were acting, again—

“Improv, hm?” The villain grinned, lock sliding into place. The hero hadn’t even heard them come in.

The hero groaned. “I don’t know what happened—“

“Yeah,” the villain nodded, and they were closer than they had been a moment ago.

The hero swallowed.

“I’m sorry.”

The villain raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

The hero waved one hand between them. “For, you know—“

The villain was still smiling.

It was then they remember who had fought so hard in the writers’ room for the villain and the hero to end up together.

‘Enemies to lovers,’ the villain had said, eyes dark. ‘The fans will love it. There’s been sub plot for the last two seasons.’

The directors had pushed back, but now—

Oh. The villain wasn’t mad.

They were pleased.

The hero choked.

“You,” the hero tried.

“Me,” the villain agreed, and then they were kissing, all-consuming and desperate.

They made a noise in the back of their throat, the villain twining their hand into the hero’s hair.

“You forgot you were acting,” the villain murmured against their lips, and kissed them again before the hero could defend themself. “That I’m not really your villain and you aren’t my hero.”

The villain settled the hero onto the counter, coming to stand between their legs, one hand on their hip.

“Fuck,” they gasped, and they could feel the villain’s grin against their skin.

“Mhm.”

Somehow, the hero’s arms had ended up looped over the villain’s shoulders.

“Maybe stop killing people, and I’ll consider it,” they said between breaths.

“What?” The villain pulled back slightly.

“The line I forgot,” the hero said. They could drown in the villain’s eyes, they were sure of it. “Maybe stop killing people—“

“Don’t care,” the villain bit out, and then their mouth was on the hero’s again and nothing else mattered.

Maybe they weren’t truly hero and villain—but god were they good at pretending.

Three months later, the internet couldn’t decide what was better—that finally, after years, the hero and villain had ended up together on screen; or that off stage, their actors were desperately, hopelessly in love too.

#writing #writing community #creative writing #snippet #heroes and villains #angst #fic writing #ficlet #writing prompt #writblr #love #hero x villain #hero/villain #fluff #this is purely indulgence #I don’t know how it got to this but I like it #I love them your honor #theatre #young writer #actors #thank you for the ask 🩵 #literally grinding this up and snorting it right now #I have the worst headache and yet I prevail

[one-boring-person]

Ok ok ok. So i just got done reading your series 'Just a babysitter' and boy let me tell you how much i loved it. I was amazing! But it got me thinking, what would you think would happen if instead of the boys using mind tricks, they instead went into a comma like state until they healed all the way. BUT they reader doesn't know that and and goes into a depression until all she can think about is revenge? Idk. It was a thought. I love your writing! Please Keep up the good work😘

I'm so glad you enjoyed the series! And thank you for all the kind words!💛💛💛 I find this idea really interesting, so thank you for sharing it! (My thoughts are that they were brought up (in part) by bloodthirsty vampires, so they'd never be opposed to some violence ;))

Just A Babysitter - Alternative Ending (ish).

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: major character death (implied), mention of alcohol usage

Masterlist

A/N: I wasn't too sure how to finish this, so I've left it kinda open ended for now. I might do a part two to this, once I've figured out an appropriate end to it.

An involuntary gasping sob bursts from my throat as I find the bodies lying on the floor, my eyes widening as they fill with tears, my mind unable to grasp the concept of what has happened. My muscles give way and I collapse to the floor, knees banging harshly against the solid rock below, my mind in turmoil now as emotions start to rush to the surface: anger, hurt, grief, betrayal and despair are the prevailing ones, all of which assault my conscience until my resolve breaks, tears spilling over my cheeks without abandon, my voice finally finding itself again as strangled sobs start to leave my mouth. Pleas and whimpers of denial accompany them, incoherent through the wracking cries shaking my body.

"No, no, no, no! Please no, this can't be real! Please! Wake up, please, I'm begging you, wake up! No, no, no..." I mutter as I crawl over to the familiar outlines of my friends and brothers, hands reaching for the usually comforting shapes of the closest: David. As my hand makes contact, I fight the urge to flinch, repulsed by the sensation of the dead flesh beneath my fingers, the icy temperature not a surprise, though the lack of life definetly is. Out of the four bodies present, his is the least damaged, his features still recognisable and handsome, his only noticeable injury being the dual holes in his shirt, where stains of dark blood have gathered.

To his left is who I assume to be Dwayne, the dark haired vampire burnt and bloodied, the tanned skin pallid and mottled, as if scarring over, an arrow protruding from his abdomen. His features are nearly completely distorted, clearly in pain when he died, the sight of this inciting a sharp burst of anger inside me, though it is easily swamped by the grief.

Just left of Dwayne is Paul, the tall blonde the least recognisable of the group, his features almost melted, as if someone pressed an iron to his face, the skin and flesh bloodied and shiny, the waxy complexion giving him the appearance of some ruined sculpture. Bone and muscle tissue peek through the usually pristine skin, his clothes nearly destroyed, showing angry red marks and ugly burn marks beneath, the sight of which make me want to throw up, especially as I catch sight of the yellowing pus gathering around the worst ones.

Looking back to David, I feel another, stronger, wave of grief wash over me, my sobs getting louder as I try to hold back the steaming tears and pleas of hope, the emotion building up more and more. Pulling my hand away from David's ashen face, I cup my face in them and rub at my skin, scratching my nails over my scalp in mental agony, before I throw my head back and scream. The sound is strangled and guttural, but it holds all the emotion I'm currently feeling, allowing it to reverberate around the room.

I break off with yet another sob, my throat raw and shredded from the painful sounds, a pounding headache starting to set in as my body starts to dehydrate, all the energy leaving me as I slouch to the side, unable to hold myself up as I fall to the floor, hitting my shoulder painfully on the hard rock. My vision starts to fade, my eyes still fixed on the bodies a little way away from me, my breathing erratic as I drift off, darkness easily consuming me...

*

I'm almost disappointed when I come to again, my eyelids sticking together slightly from the dried tears, my entire body aching painfully as I lift my head from the floor, a dull pain spreading through my muscles. Groaning, I heave myself upright, rubbing at my face as my eyes stray back to the line of bodies, grief flooding me again, though I suppress it, choosing to stay numb instead, not allowing myself to break down again, knowing that my body will need some water soon, or it'll start to shut down.

Staggering to my feet, I shakily take a few steps away from the object of my misery, the room spinning in my vision as I walk away and into my room, aiming for the bed, where I've got a spare water bottle. Nauseous, I bend down and take it out from under the bed, checking to see if it's filled, before taking a long, deep drink from it, relishing in the sensation of the cool water running down my chafed throat, soothing the dull burn already setting in.

Almost instantly, I bend back over and return the contents of my stomach back to the outside, throwing up all over the floor as my body rejects the sustenance on account of me drinking too much too quickly, soon resting to dry heaving as nothing else comes up. Coughing, I drop to the floor, wiping my sleeve over my mouth to clear away the saliva and bile, whimpering at the pounding head ache setting in, my throat stinging now from the harsh acid that just rushed past, my body now pleading for some water or food to keep it going. Hesitantly, I take a swig of the water and swill out my mouth, spitting it onto the floor to get rid of the taste, quickly taking another sip seconds later, cautiously swallowing it. Thankfully it stays down.

For hours, I remain sat there, my body turning numb and sluggish as I fade into a trance, my mind refusing to accept what it knows, trying instead to think over different subjects. Eventually, it settles on one thing, and one thing only.

Sharp anger spreads through me, my head filled with a plan as I stand and go back into the main room, staggering once more as I struggle to regain balance. I quickly locate a bottle of whiskey, a knife from one of the past victims, a bandana (again from a past victim) and a hooded jacket (one of mine this time) pulling on a pair of black gloves as I go. Sticking the knife through my belt, I tie the bandana around my lower face and pull up the hood of the jacket, sending one last look at the bodies before I head out, focused on the one thing that will make this right: killing the murderers.

Once outside, I locate my bike and climb on, kicking it into gear with no hesitation, speeding off at a dangerous pace towards the main road, the now-empty bottle of whiskey lying on the cliff top, the alcohol running through my veins. Recklessly, I hurtle down the roads, avoiding the new night traffic as I do so, ignoring angry protests as I pass them, only revving the engine when someone screams at me from their window, thundering into town. I don't stop until I've reached the Boardwalk, too focused to realise there are large crowds of people around until I've nearly bowled some of them over, screams and shouts halting me as I pull the bike up short, parking it near the wall.

Climbing off, I instantly start wandering the streets, looking out for my targets, my hand on the knife at my hip as I do so, all rational thought leaving me as a murderous rage takes over. After a good hour or so, I finally spot them: the traitors to our group and their little friends.

Silently, I fall into step behind them, ready to act on a moment's notice.

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys) #kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys) #dwayne(the lost boys) #santa carla #marko(the lost boys) #star(the lost boys)

[mercysought]

@skyheld​ . ❛ For this is all I have and all I am and all I ask. ❜ /gatt to emilie :') . the dark tower . accepting

   “All that you have?” she repeats and even the words that come from her mouth sound odd, as odd as his and that was certainly saying something. She feels her jaw slacked, unable to be pulled up without the aid of her hands. Those hands that feel like dead weights at the side of her body.

The blonde mages watches Gatt move slowly, a shell of the Inqusiitor that she had come to know. It was his face, his body, the weight, but it wasn’t him. She could draw the lines from the way that he fought in battle to his behaviour when returning in the Inquisition. She could tell it despite being there for less time than the rest of his inner circle. They were not the ones standing there, not the ones watching him slowly shuffle towards the balconies that oversaw the large mountains.

   “All that you are?” 

There is a white anger that burns beneath the shock of her words. Her face drowning in it: from the depths of the lines on her forehead, to the frown. She could tell that it wasn’t him from the moment he had returned from those blasted wilds. From the temple where he had taken upon himself once again to be dispensable and put himself at risk. She had spoken to Solas, and she agreed with him. What had he bound himself to?! Ancient Gods that existed and their will that was within a well! It sounded like madness! She had known it with her eyes closed, just feeling him standing beside her.

And she wanted to weep. But no longer. 

Émilie marches towards where he is, leaving her staff behind, forgotten by the side of the Inquisitor’s bed. She doesn’t see the distance, she doesn’t feel the weight of her steps across the stone floor but if she could she would have torn her path asunder. She wanted to hit him. Oh, how her hands closed into fists beside her slim frame, how they shook as he stood with her back to her.

   “What are you talking about?!“ her hand moves to grab his shoulders, pulling him to the side as she continues walking to face him. Her eyes burn and the words tear at her mouth. She releases him only for both hands to point towards her chest, open as two wings. Not a bird, she felt herself ablaze in that moment with no oxygen to consume “You have me, Gatt!” her fingers crash against her own chest and she hears the echo of her ribs “YOU HAVE ME!”

Her brows sink into the centre of her face and a headache pounds against the front of her head. She can hear them too, those things in his mind and she wanted to pluck them each with her fingers. If they thought she feared them or him they were wrong. She had faced down the worst of humanity and had emerged from the murkiest of waters. She could not claim death because no one could, but the Maker had left her there. Standing, bruised and at death’s door, enough to catch a glimpse and to claw her way back.

She had stood before wickedness and prevailed. Who were they, who was him to ask her to lay her arms down?

He was no mage, but she could see that he was in chains. They are bore resembling marks but to different masters.

   “You cannot ask me to accept this.” she takes a step back. Stomping above the carpet. Refusing to lower a voice that swiftly grows in volume. In agitation. She can feel herself tremble and yet she remained standing. She would not back down “I refuse.” she repeats, her head nodding and leaning forward, her fingers clam against her palm. She had refused to back down when surrounded by twenty templars when death came knocking. She had made a decision then and she would continue to live by that decision, even if that cost her life.

The bite mark was still on her arm, never fully healing.

And never truly in display.

   “The man I know would rage against whatever cage contained him. The man I know — “ she pauses, feeling herself sniffling and being unable to contain it. Those damn tears blur her vision but she continues. Damn her shaky voice. Grey eyes look to him and she feels like the wrath of Heaven could fall upon them both in that very moment. Émilie cleans her nose with the back of her hand, eyes lowering for a moment and clearing her tears. Her throat clears “I man I know has known enough cages in his life time, and he would laugh at the thought that he would just lay down when life throws him into another one.”

Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me.

   “So if you refuse to rage against these chains,” she takes another step forward, inhale sharply “or if you no longer have the strength,“ both hands rest against the side of his fine elven face. Her thumbs tracing the many scars on his skin, not unlike hers. Similar marks, different masters “then I will do it for you.“ 

Her eyes find his. The tears swell. His eyes look back at hers and yet he doesn’t.

Oh — How she wants to weep.  

But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion, SHOULD THEY SET THEMSELVES AGAINST ME.

   “And I dare whatever ancient gods to stop me.“ 

#skyheld #émilie de clair ( muses ) #raven received ( meme replies ) #( hey HEY ) #long post tw #( hey do you ever just?? punch yourself in the stomach? ) #( anyway lmao do your friends ever just blow into a declaration of their feelings when suddenly you become a vessel for an ancient god? ) #( no ? shame )

[ethereousdelirious]

Ask and ye shall receive

Fandom: T.he G.reat G.atsby

Characters: N.ick C.arraway, T.om B.uchanan

Pairings: N/A

Tropes: hangovers, heat exhaustion

Summary: N.ick, battling a vicious hangover, goes to New York with T.om only to get heat exhaustion. (It’s honestly pitiful how bad I am at writing summaries but that’s what happens ghgdjhgdz)

Warnings/Notes: there’s actually no emeto in this one believe it or not

More notes under cut

Uh yeah so I wasn’t really feeling inspired by the prospect of writing yet another Natsby fic, so I decided to explore Nick’s relationship with Tom? I really like Tom as a character for lots of reasons but in this context because, while he’s genuinely awful and has no redeeming qualities, he’s never really antagonistic toward Nick (or Jordan, for that matter). You can tell he doesn’t think of himself as a bad guy and that’s fucking fascinating to me, especially in terms of his ability to form connections with people he doesn’t perceive as beneath him.

ALSO I was kinda exploring his toxic masculinity vs Nick’s gentler, less threatening masculinity and Tom’s ability to express affection within that hypermasculine framework.

God sorry anyway. You didn’t come here to read an English paper. Here’s the fic. it’s short.

--

In New York, surrounded by temptation at every turn, it was so hard to not overindulge. 

In weaker moments, Nick would reflect that at least his occasional night of drunkenness had far fewer negative consequences than a night spent in the arms of a strange woman, or under heroin's hazy spell.

Today, however, no such excuses filled Nick’s head, only an arrhythmic pounding that worsened significantly when he had to stand up to exit the cab he had taken over to East Egg.

The flat soles of his leather shoes crunched in the white gravel of the driveway, grinding against his eardrums.

It wasn't even the worst hangover he'd had, not by a longshot, but it was certainly enough to make him wish he was back in bed.

Oh, well. Nick sighed as he approached the door. There was nothing to be done about it now.

Tom was waiting for him just beyond the heavy, oak door of the Buchanan estate.

"There you are," he said, his booming voice filling the hall. He pushed past the butler and wrapped his arm around Nick's shoulders. "I was beginning to think you'd never make it."

"Oh, I thought I was on time," Nick said, struggling to check his watch, but Tom wasn't even listening.

"I want to introduce you to some people," Tom said as he steered Nick back down the driveway. "You need connections if you're going to get anywhere in life."

"Oh," Nick said flatly, his head buzzing. Still, he knew from experience it was pointless getting irritated with Tom. "Thanks," he added. His mouth was dry and still tasted vaguely of gin.

"No, no. No need to thank me, Nick," Tom replied loftily. "We look out for each other, don't we?" He gave Nick a long look, the kind that indicated this was not a rhetorical question.

"Of course we do." Nick tried to smile.

"Good." Tom patted him on the back and pushed him toward the passenger side of the coupé. "Now let's go."

The drive into the city was a welcome rest, a sort of calm before the inevitable storm of heat and light that was New York proper. Tom talked the whole way with Nick chiming in at the appropriate pauses, usually to agree. Tom Buchanan was not the sort of man you could argue with.

Nick didn't even bother to ask where they were going when they got out of the car, just followed along in Tom's wake and tried not to walk into people.

It was hot. Even with his hat and the light material of his suit, Nick could feel the sunlight pouring down on him, heating him inside and out.

The light alone would have been enough to exacerbate his headache to the point of agony, but the noise was almost unbearable. Dimly, he could make out Tom's hulking form beginning to disappear into the crowd and he tried to speed up again.

It was too much. He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and tried to catch his breath, to get the buzzing in his head to calm down.

"Nick?" Tom's voice was suddenly near. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry, I--"

"Do I have to lead you along like a dog? Come on." Tom put a hand between Nick's shoulders and all but shoved him forward. The crowd obligingly parted for them and Nick allowed Tom to march him forward. It was just easier.

Tom was a fast walker. Usually it was no trouble for Nick to match his pace but today even keeping himself upright felt like a struggle. His face was almost painfully hot and the throbbing in his head was starting to make him feel sick. The hot dryness of his breath irritated his cracked lips and he couldn't help but lick them, wincing at the taste of blood. Nausea rolled threateningly in his stomach and his vision wavered.

"Where're you taking me, New Jersey?" he tried to joke.

"Very funny. We're almost there, just a few more blocks."

Nick fought the urge to just let himself fall down on the sidewalk. He was starting to get dizzy, like he was stuck on one of Coney Island's thrill rides.

Without warning, Tom led him around a corner and Nick stumbled. The vertigo left him unable to right himself and fell heavily against Tom before hitting the wall of the building next to them.

"What's the matter with you?" Tom glanced around like Nick was embarrassing him.

"I..." It was so hard to think, let alone speak. Nick's head was swimming with the severity of the pain hammering at his temples and the base of his skull.

To his credit, Tom did look concerned. He pressed the back of his hand briefly to Nick's cheek, then looked him over. "Must be the heat. My fault, really. You always were delicate."

Nick's knees buckled as if on cue. He slumped half-conscious against Tom's chest, loathing that heat generated by their bodies' proximity but unable to move.

"Okay!" Tom hauled Nick to his feet and arranged his limbs so he could lean against Tom's shoulder. "Think you can make it back to the car without fainting on me?"

It took a long while for the word's to permeate the static buzzing in Nick's ears. They were a ways down the sidewalk when he mumbled an affirmative, more of a sound than a word.

"Good man."

Nick made it to the car without blacking out, but it was a near thing. The world was a blur of pain and noise, stimulus with no clear edges or details. He didn't even notice he was lying down in the backseat until they were halfway over the bridge, and then he only closed his eyes. If he could just sleep.

He couldn't. Even the slightest movement of the car jostled his aching head and brought him closer to the verge of vomiting. It was all he could to not cry out. He doubted Tom would appreciate it.

His breathing must have changed because Tom said, "Hold on, we're almost there," and accelerated.

Even through the feverish haze clouding his mind, Nick couldn't help but be surprised. Tom had always had a soft spot for him, but he would have expected his affections to fade by now. Nick had always lacked the commanding hypermasculinity that Tom always projected. Tom would certainly never allow himself to end up in this position.

Nick was still dwelling on this unhappy line of thought when the car came to a stop. He sat up slowly and stood up even slower.

Tom was waiting there by his shoulder, ready to catch him and give him a paternalistic pat on the shoulder.

"We'll get you sorted out inside, don't you worry."

Only then did Nick notice that they were back at the Buchanan's estate. His heart sank. "Oh, Tom, really, it's okay--"

"Nonsense. You're coming inside and you're not leaving until you're back on your feet again."

Nick was too tired for a proper protest, especially knowing that this was not an argument he could win. But desperation prevailed. "Really, I can just go--"

"I won't hear a word of it."

Tom continued to pull him along at a speed much faster than Nick could manage. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, hard and rapid. He knew he ought to thank Tom, but he really didn't want to.

Still, he tried to move his lips to form the words and found them numb and tingling. The noise of the birds and the wind faded to radio static.

There was an odd pressure on Nick's stomach, preventing him from drawing a full breath. His feet weren't touching the ground.

And he still felt awful.

Confused, he opened his eyes.

Tom had him in a fireman's carry and was walking down one of the many hardwood halls of the Buchanan estate.

Nick sighed, his face burning with shame.

"I can walk," he croaked.

"Nonsense." Tom tried to glance at him, craving his neck awkwardly. He turned, maneuvering through a doorway, and deposited Nick onto a bed.

Nick arranged himself so he was on his back. He didn't have the energy to do much else but stare at the ceiling, although he did notice a pitcher of water on the bedside table.

"You're gonna be just fine," Tom said. He moved to Nick into a sitting position as easily as a child would move a doll, then poured out a glass of water. "Drink."

"Thank you," Nick said. He downed it without even passing for breath. The quickest way out of here would be to get better, and the quickest way to do that would be to drink. So he did. His head was still pounding and fuzzy, too much so for conversation. His eyes were starting to slide closed of their own accord.

Tom's blue gaze appraised Nick with the cool detachment of a predator assessing prey. "Get some rest," he said, reaching down to ruffle Nick's hair. "If you're not better by morning I'm sure Daisy will have a whole army of doctors in here, and I'd rather avoid the hassle." He gave a half-smile.

"I understand," Nick murmured, not able to bring himself to fake a laugh.

He sank back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Before drifting off, he could have sworn he felt Tom gently removing his shoes and bidding him a quiet "good night."

#ethereous writes

[bbychilly]

Birthday boy • Rhian Brewster

for my fav girl @luc-57x ❤️ hope you’ll like it (bc ahahah i rewrote it a hundred times)

03/27/20

Today you went to the shopping centre to buy a present for Rhian. His birthday is coming soon, so there’s no point in delaying purchases. You were nervous because you didn’t know what to give to your boyfriend. It must be something that he’ll definitely like and something that he’ll appreciate. But nothing crossed your mind at all. After wandering around the mall for 4 hours, you just bought a cool hoodie and brand trainers.

“This is clearly not enough” you muttered when you got into the car. “I have to come up with something else... Definitely!”

03/29/20

This morning started awful: you barely got out of bed because you were dizzy and your legs hurt. The worst thing is that you were terribly sick. For the whole day you hardly got out of bed and ate almost nothing. Fortunately, Rhian was in training, so he didn’t see you in that state. In the evening you decided to call your sister:

“Emily, hi, can you talk?”

“Yeah, of course, sis. Something happened?”

“I don't know.” You shrugged, as if your sister could see it. “Can you come to me tomorrow? I don’t feel great, I feel sick all day. And I need help with preparing for Rhian’s birthday. Will you help?”

“Of course I'll help. What happened, (Y/N)? Why do you feel sick? Do you want to go to the doctor?”

“I don't know” you shrugged again. “I don’t want to see a doctor, I don’t see the point. It’ll pass by itself.”

“Yeah, about 9 months later” Emily thought, but she didn't say it out loud.

“As you want, but of course I’ll come tomorrow. Kisses and hugs, good night.”

“And you, sis.”

You put the phone down on the nightstand and turned to the place where Rhian should sleep. He warned that today he’ll come back from training later than normal, but you didn’t think that for so ‘later’. You decided that you would wait for him because you didn’t want to sleep, and besides, you managed to get bored without him.

Frankly, you didn’t succeed in waiting for Rhian. Fatigue prevailed and you fell asleep. When Rhian came home, you already sweetly slept, hugging his pillow. The boy left a light kiss on the top of your head and lay quietly next to you, holding you tight.

03/30/20

“Well, how are you? Do you feel better?” asked Emily, quickly hugging you, and went into the hall.

“No, I’m not” you really felt lousy. “But let's not talk about me, we need to prepare for the birthday. Rhian didn’t want to have a huge party. He invited only his family and closest friends. But still, everything should be perfect” you sat on the sofa and frowned because you were sick again.

“You idealize everything. Rhian will be glad to any party. And you know what” Emily reached into her purse “keep it.”

Your sister sat next to you and held out a pregnancy test.

“I'm worried about you and it seems to me that this will solve all the issues you need to see a doctor now or after 9 months.”

“No” you changed your serious expression to a smile. “I'm definitely not pregnant!”

“(Y/N)! Just check it out.”

“Well so be it, I’ll check, but I'm sure that I'm not pregnant.”

Five minutes later, you returned with a happy and at the same time stupid smile on your face. Emily immediately understood everything.

“Emily...” you showed her two strips on the test. “I... I don’t believe my happiness...”

You burst into tears and your sister hugged you and stroked your head. You sat back on the sofa, and the girl covered you with a blanket.

“Do you want to sleep a little?”

“No, we need to prepare for the party. Emily... I’ll be a mother... I-I dreamed about this from childhood... And Rhian? What if...” you hesitated “what if he doesn’t want kids? We never talked about this...”

“Calm down and don’t utter nonsense! Did you see how Rhian played with Brendan? As if he wasn’t his uncle, but his dad! His smile, when I ask you to stay with Brendan, knows no limits! Besides, you said that you wanted to give him something special as a present. Give him this test and a little ‘Brewster’ t-shirt. He’ll be over the moon. I promise you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Show me the list of things we have to do for the party.”

03/31/20

Everything was ready and thanks Emily for that. You had a whole day, until Rhian’s birthday and, unfortunately, he had a day off today. Yes, you missed him, but you didn’t want him to see you in that state. You were sick again and had a headache again. You didn’t stop thinking about this test, about two stripes, about the little man inside you. You were afraid to tell Rhian, you were afraid of his reaction, you were afraid that he would break up with you because he isn’t ready for children yet.

“Bubs, are you okay?” Rhian sat nearby and looked at you worriedly. “You’ve been stirring sugar in tea for half an hour.”

“Huh? What? Ahh, yes, I'm fine. Just thought for a little.”

“About what you were thinking? I'm worried, you're okay?”

“Yes, I’m just tired, I’ll go to bed now if you don’t mind.”

“Do I have to go with you?”

“No!” suddenly you cried out, fearing even the thought that Rhian might find out that you’re pregnant. “No, I do it myself, thank you” you softened your voice and kissed the bewildered guy on the cheek.

Thoughts kept you awake all night. You lay and looked at Rhian. You were happy, but at the same time you were afraid.

04/01/20

“Happy birthday, baby” you kissed him on both cheeks and hugged him tightly. “Don’t you mind if I give you a present in the evening? After party?”

“Of course I don’t mind. Is everything okay? Your voice has changed too much in recent days” Rhian worriedly took your hand.

“Of course everything is okay! We’ve already have to go to downstairs, there almost everything is ready for you!”

Gradually the guests arrived. The house was filled with talk and laughter. You, like everyone else, were in a good mood. All friends and relatives congratulated Rhian and you were incredibly happy. But the evening was approaching, you began to overthinking again. The thought, that such a wonderful day could end badly, bothered you.

“Are you okay? Don't you feel sick?” asked Emily, gently turning you around by the elbow to face her. Most likely she asked this because you were standing in the corner of room and were biting your lips.

“No, I'm fine.”

“Have you told Rhian yet?” You shook your head and took a sip of orange juice. “Why?”

“In the evening” you whispered and Emily nodded understanding and changed the subject.

04/02/20

“It turns out that you didn’t give me a present on my birthday!” Rhian joked when at 1 am you finally stayed home alone, so you both fell into the bed without any strength.

“You know, I'd rather not give it to you at all.”

“Did you forget to buy me a present?” Rhian giggled and turned to face you.

“No, I didn’t forget” you turned to the nightstand and took out a small box from it. “Happy birthday, Rhian. I love you” you said barely audibly and kissed him on the cheek.

“I'm so tired, maybe I'll open it tomorrow? Besides, this gift is too small” the guy shrugged.

“Rhian, but...” the voice trembled and you suddenly burst into tears.

“Bubs, what’s wrong? I was joking! Gosh, why are you crying, don’t break my heart, come here I’ll hug you.”

Rhian held out his hands to you and of course you didn’t refuse to embrace. When you stopped crying and got comfortable in Rhian’s arms, the guy finally decided to open your present. Your heart was beating furiously and your breath was trembling.

“What is it?” Rhian twisted your gift in his hands. “Stop, (Y/N), are you pregnant?”

He turned you to face him, sitting on his knees. You noticed tears in the corners of his eyes. You just silently looked at each other, not making any sounds.

“Yes, Rhian, I'm pregnant...” you whispered softly, fearing his reaction. He continued to sit and look at you, saying nothing. “Say something Rhian, please! You don’t want this child? I should have an aborti...”

“Do not even think about that!” finally said the boy. “I’ll kill you if you have an abortion. I already love this baby more than anything!” Rhian leaned towards you and kissed you gently, awakening butterflies in your stomach.

“Even more than me?” you pouted lips.

“Yes! You wanted to kill him or her, and this is a crime. This baby hasn't done any crime yet. Therefore, I love him or her more!”

“Well then sleep alone today!” You jokingly crossed your arms over your chest and were about to leave.

“Wait, oh my God” Rhian managed to grab you at the waist and put you back on the bed. “I love you both equally and endlessly. Honestly.”

“Then kiss me...”

#rhian brewster #rhian brewster imagine #rhian brewster imagines

[comicbooksidecharacter]

Hiraeth [Part 6]

Bucky Barnes X OC (Amelia Stone)

Hiraeth: (n.) “longing or deep yearning for a place, time, feeling or person long gone; or that never was.”

Previously: The OC was tortured at HYDRA base, and was saved by the Avengers. She has no recollection of what happened to her for 8 months. Her nightmares and PTSD cause her to take a break from the Avengers. She lives anonymously in Romania, until a blue eyed stranger seems to recognize her.

  Panting and trying to make sense of what happened, she decided to go back to the bus stop. She couldn't look for him. Her wits wrestled with her guilt for an upper hand. She SHOULD be doing something about this. What if he were HYDRA? The bus was due in 10 minutes and she was sitting on one of the chairs, feeling her belly. He hadn't kicked her as hard as he could have, just enough to make her fall. His questions, those eyes, and that unfathomable look in them, sketched themselves onto her memory. No matter how much she tried, no answer turned up. What did turn up was a headache so she let it go.

Her thoughts took a sharp turn when she heard the sound of explosions going off somewhere. It was from a nearby apartment building somewhere. People began to shuffle and run away, eager to take the first shelter they find. Her own eyes rose to the sky, and her mouth gaped when she saw someone jump off some 20th floor to the neighboring roof. This man, if she could calculate the silhouette well, was one with nerve. Then another jumped off. And then another.... the man who's shadow she could read in the dark. Steve Rogers.

She wanted to keep out of it even though her heart told her to go help. But Steve was there so it would be fine. By the time the bus arrived, she was the only one who got up and told the very anxious driver that he should just drive. It was around 7 in the evening when she heard the knock on her door. It could either be three people: her landlord to collect rent early, one of the woodpeckers who lived in a tree nearby, or Steve Rogers.

"Why the hell are you here?", She asked. Steve leaned in to give her a hug. God it felt good to have him here. She could cry. He was such a good friend and a good leader. Her eyes were glistening when he let her go.

"I had to come see you", he smiled, looking around her house and then her, from head to toe, like a mother, trying to examine if the girl was okay after all. "Considering that you didn't even call me knowing I was in Romania."

"I don't watch TV so much", she said, ushering him in. He did seem like he had to leave but he could sit a few minutes.

"How are you?"

"Better. Seeing you here..."

"I'm here too", another sound fell in her ear that genuinely made her laugh.

"SAM!"

She almost jumped into Sam's arms, feeling her heart beat harder and slower, promising herself not to cry. "Long time no see."

"Yeah", Sam said, studying her little establishment. "Wait.", she spoke, "Does anyone know you're here?"

"No one", Steve said, "Sam will stay quiet about this too"

She smiled and told them to sit while she made coffee and brought them something to eat. They talked about everything. They even told her why they were there. Steve had to put his hand under her chin and close it for her when he told her about the accords, and that he was actually there to get Bucky. The complicated ordeal with T’Chaka and his son was also discussed.

"Seems like whenever I am NOT around, the most dramatic situations take place in the Avengers' Initiative"

There was silence. Not a serene one, an awkward one. Words were forming in Steve's head, but couldn't find their way out. Sam's eyes turned to Cap over and over again, and Ellie was surprised that even he couldn't blurt whatever haunted his mind.

"We need your help, Ellie", Steve finally heaved. "There's something that's come up and we need someone with a mind as ...."

"Twisted", Sam filled in, making her roll her eyes.

"INTELLIGENT", Steve said pointedly, "as yours to help us through this predicament."

Silence prevailed like darkness does in the night. She was rummaging her mind for peace, for calmness to hear him out, but as soon as he mentioned the team, all she felt was a pang in her chest. The memories of the painful nights in the tower re-emerged, fresh, as if they never had left.

"I would never have asked you,  but seeing that Tony has already made up his mind about the accords and the other smart guy has gone, we need your help."

"Steve, I can't go back there. At least not now", she replied, "Not when...."

Steve and Sam's heads shot up with curiosity, given because of her condition to be honest. "I just don't feel good about this right now. I have a lot of baggage to go through and..." "Not when what?", Sam rather abruptly reeled the conversation back to the elephant in the room, when both Steve and Amelia didn't have to courage to continue the discussion.

"Not when THIS is happening", she said and drew in a big breath. Her fingers traced along the collar of her shirt and she gently pulled it downwards, allowing their eyes to set on the wound. They had first seen it bleeding during a fight, and then covered in bandages when she woke up.

The wound was a strange color of red and black now, looking like angry hot lava covered by a layer of iron dust. No wound was supposed to look like this, unless something was very wrong.

"What is this?", Steve asked, pointing at it, "How long has it been like that? Did you get it checked?"

"They say it's partial nerve damage because a small chunk of my flesh was gone, I guess. A depression in the cavity or whatever they call it. Apart from that, nothing wrong, medically."

"But?", Sam chimed in, curious enough that the hair at the back of his neck seemed to stand out.

"But I don't know. There are days when the wound is fine. Other days it hurts like someone is scratching open my flesh. And somedays, like today, it is BURNING."

"It could just be... one of those injuries that never  fully heal", Sam gave a faint smile, "I had a buddy in the battalion who lost a foot and still complains about pain to this day."

"It's not a normal wound. I don't know what it is...", her shirt was covering the wound again.

"Are you sure?", Steve spoke in a doubtful tone again. She looked at him incredulously. "Are you sure that you don't know what it is?"

"Steve the last time you asked me this question..."

"Well, I don't know what to say about this or believe in, Amelia!", Steve said, hands on his waist, brows furrowed because of some mental torment. "First that incident. And that could be an accident, but now this. If you're scared that we are going to judge you, don't be. We are a team. We help each other out."

"Nothing is wrong with me Steve", she pleaded, "I really don't know about either of the two incidents you've mentioned. I just..."

"Just what? Amelia just come with us. Please. Tony could have it checked out and you'd be fine... what if it's.... some sort of ... "

"I don't want to come back Steve. I'm not ready yet. I don't think I can operate properly as long as I have these things clouding my objectivity. Avengers' strategists should be on top of their game."

"Even when you're not on top of your game, you can plan better than any of us", Sam said. "Cap is right. You should come with us now. That THING could kill you one of these days, worst case scenario."

She shook her head and crashed on the sofa, a throbbing headache welcoming her to the reality of her predicament. Steve and Sam looked at each other defeatedly.

"I'm sorry guys. Not today. I would never hesitate to help you, you know that. But my mental state isn't helping me here..."

"You're being inconsiderate. Of yourself. And of your team."

"I'm. being. inconsiderate?", she repeated the words, "I am trying to hold on to the few fragments of sanity I've got left inside me, and I'm the one being inconsiderate? I'm here trying to find some MEANING behind my life, and trying to hold on to reality when my mind is going numb because of my mental issues. I know you see things differently than I do, but the last thing I am being or want to be, is inconsiderate."

A woodpecker had probably settled into the left wall of the cabin that faced the lake, seeming to flow gentler than it did in the morning. There was a constant pecking on the wall now. She went ahead and tapped on the wall, a rushed sound of feathered escape faded in the background. "If I go back there, the nightmares might return." "Maybe.." "and this wound, and my head too, will be in pain..." "And the only way to avoid all of this is to stay away from the whole superhero trying to protect the earth thing....." "I can't come back. I didn't say I won't come back EVER. I meant not now. As soon as I think that I am better, or if my wound gets WORSE and I dont know what to do with it, I'll be there in a heartbeat."

"Okay.", Steve sighed, his tone drenched in worry and sadness. They began to pick up their jackets. She just realized that birds had come back to whatever tiny homes they had built in the woods, because the symphony had started.

"By the way", she said, rubbing her forehead, "You never showed me this Bucky guy. What does he look like? I mean, I have had the honor of being shot at by him. But I'm really curious to see his face."

Sam took out his phone and seemed to fidget with it before giving it to her. She turned the screen to herself. There he was, that mysterious blue-eyed man, surrounded by numerous SHIELD agents, next to a man clad in a black cat? suit. The incident of the morning replayed itself before her.

"I'm coming with you", she announced.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier #sam wilson #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #tony stark #steve rogers #hiraeth part 6 #hiraeth #marvel #marvel imagines #avengers #avengers imagine

[jj-lynn21]

The Island: various fandoms & x-readers ch 6

Warnings: angst

ch1 ch 2 ch 3 ch4  ch5 ch7 ch8

The Island Doctor checked Bill before Stellan would let her even put a proper wrap on his ankle.

The Doctor told everyone, “there is no signs of a concussion that I can see but an MRI back at the mainland is a good idea as soon as they come pick us all up. He should wake up on his own within a few hours.”

Holland falls asleep in the chair. Princess wraps herself around Bill and eventually falls asleep. Love comes in to check how everyone is doing. She gets a blanket from the closet and puts it over Tom. He stirs and flutters his blood shot eyes open. Seeing her there he reaches out a hand.

Taking his hand, she steps closer, “You should really go to your bed Tom. I’m sure they will come get you when he wakes.”

He lets out a small whine but gets up wrapping the blanket around himself as she leads him back to his room. She turns to leaves as he undresses. Getting into bed Tom says, “Don’t go.”  She turns back to him, “Just stay, Love.”

She takes off her uniform. Keeping her bra and panties on she lays down under the covers next to him. His puppy dog eyes plead for contact. He nuzzles his face between her breasts as she strokes his hair softly. “If you need me to hold you like this all night, I will baby boy.”

He makes a small sound as he wraps his arms around her. It takes merely minutes until sleep prevails.

In the middle of the night Bill startles awake. His eyes wide as he is a bit confused how he got in the bed naked with Princess. As he tries to untangle himself from her, she wakes. “Bill? How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for hours.”

He looks at her blankly, “How’s my Father? Did everyone get back ok?” He gets up but sits back down instantly feeling dizzy.

“Woe there, big guy,” She puts a hand on his back, “Can I get you something you need?”

“I have to fucking pee and go check on my family. And my head is splitting,” Bill bellows

Princess takes a deep breath, “Ok, can I at least walk with to the restroom incase you need someone to lean on?”

“You feel the need to hold my dick for me to, Princess?” He smirks as he gets up again slower.

She gets up and grabs a robe to put on and grabs one for him. As she walks over with it, he grabs it out of her hand and puts it on, “I got it. I’m not an invalid. I just, what the fuck happened anyway?”

“You slipped on the rocks getting back to the boat. Holland said you bumped your head pretty badly, but him and Hiddleston were able to get you out of the water and back on the boat while your brothers helped your Father,” Princess explain as Bill looked at her seeming annoyed by everything she said.

She hovers near him without touching him as he went about his business. He walks back out to the bedroom from the bathroom, “So, none of my family stayed to see if I even woke up? That figures, quintessential middle child that they barely give a fuck about even when I put my all into helping one of them.”

Princess tries to stay calm, but she is exhausted, and his childish behavior is starting to get to her, “Bill, they knew I was here to take care of you. Its three in the morning. Everyone is asleep.”

“Who the fuck are you to be left to care for me? You’re not family. Your just some wannabe actress who enjoys my cock and prestige.”

That was all she could handle, “Fuck you Bill Skarsgard. I don’t fucking need to ride anyone’s coattails to get where I want. There are some fucking pills for your headache on the nightstand. You can wallow in your self-pity. And your family and Tom are worried about you. Tom was crying for I don’t know how long because he thought he should have been able to grab you quicker. Goodbye…”

She slams the door behind her sobbing as she leaves. Not wanting to wake anyone she goes outside to sit by the pool. She is curled up with her head on her knees hiding her tears when she feels a hand on her shoulder. She looks up to see Stellan balancing on his crutches. She dries her tears on the back of her hand, “Bill’s awake. You should go tell him your doing ok before he kills someone to find out.”

He takes a drink of the cocktail he has in his hand, “He can be a little prick when he doesn’t feel well. He doesn’t deal with real pain for shit.”

Princess isn’t sure how to react to the comment. Her eyes just go wide as Stellan sits at a table across from her.  “Don’t get me wrong. He’s a great son and a great man overall. I’m very proud of him most of the time, but you get to witness him at his worst right now, Princess. If you can’t handle him like this, well…” He gets back up and heads towards Bill’s bungalow, “You know it could just be the head injury making him act like this. He’ll probably be begging for your forgiveness by lunch if not sooner.”

You take a deep breath and head to the bar. Since Stellan had a drink, maybe they have just orange juice. The bar tender who is reading something on his phone when you approach rushes over as soon as he sees, Princess. “How are you this morning, Miss?” Is Mr. Skarsgard awake yet?”

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah, he’s awake. Can I just get some orange juice?”

“Of course, you can,” he says. He squeezes fresh oranges into a small glass. “Anything else you need to help you rest more? I heard there are studio people coming to the Island later to wrap this whole business up.”

Princess sighs, “Good, I’d like to be out of here.”

He asks, “Oh, was something we did not to your liking?”

“No, the staff has all been great. Its just, I’m just really tired.” She drank the fresh squeezed juice.

“Well, I hope you can get some rest, “He says.

She walks back to lay on a chair with one of the towels over her eyes. She awakens several hours later with a blanket over her. She hears a crew setting up as she sits up slowing taking the towel off her eyes. They are putting up chairs and lighting and a few tents. She yawns and stretches while keeping the blanket around here.

Going over to a production assistant she asks, “What are you setting up for?”

The P.A. says, “Exit interviews so we can completely wrap this production up. The audience is loving the game in the house which will end tonight with your big win.  The producer just wants everyone to do an exit interview about their experiences. It should be fun.”

She says, “Yeah, a blast. I’ll do mine first so I can get out of here. I just need to dress.”

He replies, “We have hair and make up here so don’t worry about that. We will be ready for you in say an hour? But everyone will leave the island at the same.”

She mumbles as she walks away, “Oh joy more great news. Everyone in one ship that will probably sink.”

#the charity #bill skarsgard #tom holland #princess #original story #creative writing #writing #angst #fantasy #au #fabfic #fan fiction #stellan skarsgard #the island

[xautunno]

Munto - King and Queen - Pt. 3

Colloquies 

.

Yumemi watched from her perch as the sky blended into a set of distant yellows, pinks, and overwhelming indigo. The grass did little to cushion her from the rocky ground, but she didn't bother to move. Not when in the far distance floated an unseeable land filled with possible snakes. A land her husband currently ventured through.

The night would be a long one.

Her bed empty upon her return for sleep, she felt the loneliness like a physical blow. Heart like a dead weight, she slipped beneath silk sheets and settled against the soft pillow.

Yumemi woke to the cool breeze of the night on several occasions. The first had her heart racing and a cold, sheen of sweat coated her from head to toe. She woke a few hours later, legs tangled in the sheets and tears stinging her eyes.

She had no choice but to rise from the bed just before sunrise. Sleep hung over her like a dense fog, but if the maids noticed, they never mentioned it. They helped her dress for breakfast where she ate for the first time in a long time, utterly alone.

"Highness?" A voice stopped her down the hall, the sound of rushed footsteps following. "What are we to do?"

The Queen furrowed her brow and turned to face the man in front of her. He outmatched her by at least a foot and wore the fitting robes of a military advisor.

"To do?" She felt sick.

Had she missed something?

"Y-yes, ma'am. Should King Munto not return and the negotiations end poorly… what should we have in place?" Munto had been undoubtedly sure of his success and left without hesitation.

"I hope you do not doubt our king…" Words coated in ice, she narrowed her eyes on him.

"Of course not!" His declaration a bit loud, he cleared his throat and lowered his voice, "I am simply asking what would you have us prepare if war happened upon us by nightfall? A worst case scenario."

Yumemi thought of that herself. Her husband left no instruction but left everything in her hands.

"If my husband fails to return and the negotiations are called off by nightfall," the man audibly gulped at the venomous tone, "I would have every able body strengthening our defenses. I will not prepare for war until it is decided we are at war."

"Of course." He bowed to her prepared to depart, but she stopped him.

"If war is to come, I want every advisor to meet with me in the council room. We will discuss then our next steps." Yumemi's jaw uncharacteristically locked at she spit out the next few words, "we will avenge our fallen king and protect our homelands no matter the cost."

Standing a bit straighter, he curtly bowed and turned on his heel to leave.

In her many years here at the Magical Kingdom, there were those who still viewed her as Yumemi-hime. Their princess. Their savior. They were not wrong to so, however, her innocent nature shed by the time she finished college and made this kingdom her permanent home.

Yumemi spent most of her early adult life mingling with the courts Munto grew up in. She practiced her manners, learning delicate etiquette, and diplomacy. She could smile prettily at the lords and ladies, keeping her fangs hidden while her claws did most of the talking.

No one doubted her ability to be brutally honest and sincere since she turned twenty and single-handedly refuted three marriage proposals by publically shaming their indecency and ill-manners at a formal event rather than simply saying no. She made it clear that such rudeness under the king's invitation was undignified for their position especially when she hid nothing about her true relationship with the king.

She took to a no-nonsense attitude and would shut down any ill-thought or gossip she deemed inappropriate. It had been thought of as a horrible decision on her part since no one would share information with her. Gossip could hurt, especially gossip about her private life with the king.

Yumemi solved the issue when she first made regular trips to visit Munto during high school. The time it took for the servants of the palace to undoubtedly love and trust her was astonishing. They'd hear fleeting words here and there, lords and ladies letting things slip when they didn't notice the help around. Those same words finding their way to Yumemi during breakfast or when she strolled in the gardens. Occasionally, and only if urgent, they would interrupt her studies.

In return, they never doubted Yumemi's ability to handle a situation without Munto's aid. Should a guest be making inappropriate advances, their future Queen then would have no issue stopping her work to track down the offender and corner him into apologizing. Most likely in a public space where multiple witnesses were. If Munto didn't see it, he'd hear about it by the time she returned.

Not that he would dare interfere. Yumemi never gave a reason for him to doubt her loyalty to either his nation or himself. Her loyalty prevailed over the course of almost a decade without caution.

She defended not only himself personally, but advisors, staff, and in general, his people, should she find them deserving of it. She didn't care what others gossiped about or their opinion on her, to the point she disregarded her own safety to get her point across. About the only thing that ever really upset him.

Yumemi continued on her way to the gardens. Despite the tremendous weight on both her shoulders and heart, her back remained straight, hands closed together in front of her and chin held high. She kept her strides even and graceful, letting the soles of her feel skim across the cool floors like a dancer.

The crown, a heavy burden, gave her headaches the first month she wore it. Every few hours, a powerful and compelling urge to toss it aside plagued her. But then, she'd catch a glimpse of Munto in his formal robes, the crown framing a stern face while he walked with Rui. She couldn't toss it aside. Even if it would make her days easier to bear, even if she felt she could perform her duties appropriately without it, she never removed it. Merely, she endured.

Those same thoughts and feelings plagued her now. She wanted to toss it in the nearest garbage can she could find and let her hair out of the terribly tight braid. It had been fine this morning, but now it felt as if though a child climbed on her back to play with the golden strands and leave her scalp bruised.

Away from prying eyes, Yumemi plopped herself down on the nearest stone bench and tugged the band from her hair. She removed the diadem so she could brush her hair out.

The sun high in the sky, she relaxed under its warm rays. She could almost doze off.

She knew he wasn't there. His stomach didn't press against her back while he bent over to cup her cheek and gaze lovingly at her. Callose hands didn't smooth the wrinkles of worry from her forehead.

He didn't whisper, "my Queen has endured quite the hardship."

He didn't kiss her forehead, keeping her close while he murmured sweet nothings. Didn't wipe the stay tear from her cheek at the thought of him.

Yumemi couldn't bear to sleep alone. She had never been truely alone before. Family and friends surrounded her since she breathed the air of this world deep into her lungs with a cry.

Her bed had been occupied by one other for years now and during meals, she always had the same, redheaded, charming, and sweet companion who never failed to bring a smile to her face or a burst of joy from her heart at the sight of him. Never had he failed to please her or make her feel loved since the first moment they kissed. He slid that ring onto her finger, promising her forever, but he felt so far that the ring only served as a heavy reminder.

Swallowing her tears, Yumemi peeked open her eyes, partially surprised to find herself alone.

"Your highness." She closed her eyes, sighing at the call.

"Yes?" She made no effort to move. Not yet.

"The council wishes to speak with you. To prepare appropriately."

And like that, her sorrow vanished. Her heart hardened as she stood, brushing her hair back with a flick of her wrist and returned her crown to its rightful place.

With the regal appearance of Catherine the Great, she stalked down the hallway with the grace befitting royalty and with the eyes of a wild feline. Like Borte Ujin, when she entered the room, advisors stood in respect knowing the king valued her opinion above all others and entrusted the kingdom to her care.

Her hands held no callous of war but beneath her fair skin lied unimaginable power that many still feared. And the girl of destiny knew it. No restraint beyond moral reasoning kept her in check of those powers.

Reaching her chair at the head of the table, the seat her husband frequented recently the past few months, she twirled on the ball of her foot to address the room. She didn't speak as her eyes did most of the talking. Evaluating each and every member present.

Then, she seated herself and gestured for them to do the same.

"Tell me, what defenses can we have in place in the shortest amount of time?"

#munto #yumemi #angsty? #romance #king and queen #older #part 3 #fanfiction #hurt

[sssuperbartola]

The “App store” - part 2

might as well keep it up since I’m on a roll

“…and that is how you can make a phone number and call anyone at any time. Is that more clear now?” Kagome inquired, her usual kind-hearted tone almost gone after the fifth - or was it the ninth time? - that she tried to explain a smartphone to the modern equivalent of immortal cavemen with dog ears. Maybe it’s better if I don’t say that out loud she muttered to herself, recollecting some of her inner calm, looking at said counterpart.

It was now halfway through the day, the sun clearly turning a deeper shade of okra and slowly inching away from the clear view of Sesshomaru’s apartment. That was already a sign of how long it has been for Kagome and Inuyasha since she entered his home. And to think that this was not even the point of her visit, but a mere digression of a simple task. How naive I was…

As she mentally scolded herself, there was a weird atmosphere surrounding the duo of youki. While Inuyasha - honestly, she shouldn’t be that surprised - was still glaring at the damn piece of metal, picking it up with only his own claws as if it was possible for the phone to just bite him, Sesshomaru seemed more at ease with the new object, despite the bewildered look on his face. She couldn’t blame them, really, not after she instructed on how to talk to the phone.

“Now watch: hey, Siri?” Kagome said, and immediately a computerized voice came from the device “Hello, I’m Siri, how can I help you?”“What the FUCK?!? Where does that voice come?”, Inuyasha shouted, as well as jumping into attack mode.“Calm down, Inuyasha, that’s just the voice assistant, every phone has it!”. “How come there is a person inside that thing?” Sesshomaru then inquired, now he was on edge too “Miko, did you imprison someone in that contrivance??”

“What-” “I found 12 websites with the word “contrivance” you’re looking for.” the phone intercepted before Kagome.

“Kagome is this a demon too??” “How dare she talk back to me?”, both brothers said at the same time, before a cacophony of voices filled the room and her poor ears.

And the conversation went on like that, Kagome, the two demons and the phone voice all together, until the half-demon went to grab his sword - of fucking course he was - to battle with the “evil being”; not too fast for Sesshomaru, however, who slapped on Inuyasha’s head so hard to make him regain some sort of composure. And avoid having his apartment cut in half. Any other object of harm hazard was then discarded away.

The older brother now was pensive while investigating the shiny little gadget on the palm of his hand; turning it around, getting a close up every now and then, but there was no sign of anger, nor the same skepticism Inuyasha had. The silence provoked by Kagome’s latest question broke once Sesshomaru softly hummed, almost if conquering the words he wanted to say. “Fascinating” he began “this tool is an endless container of reliable resources. We must continue to investigate. I desire to know more” he resolved, gripping tightly on the iPhone and looking rather determined for this task. Kagome’s shoulders slumped heavily, not sure if for relief upon hearing he was actually listening to her or because she sensed another exhausting lesson. Honestly, she could tell it was more the latter than the former. With a deep inhale, she glanced back at the Lord of the West, his eyes gleaming of something new.

“Well, you see-” Kagome was about to conjure up, but she was cut off again.

“This is a bunch of crap! How can we seriously take whatever this Ahifon thing offers to our advantage? It’s too tiny to use as a weapon to hurt anyone, let alone Naraku. And also, I still don’t trust that little demon inside of it, she was clearly trying to fight me.”

As if every goddamn thing is gonna fight you… Kagome thought, clearly not amused. Two pairs of eyes regarded the scowling face of Inuyasha, who was currently keeping himself at an arm’s distance from the device. Before Kagome could answer in any way, Sesshomaru took her place and immediately went for the kill. “I don’t know if your troglodyte brain has understood it yet, but this is not a weapon. It’s a tool, to help us all in this battle”.

At those words, Kagome, for the first time ever, was actually grateful for the presence of the daiyouki. If just one out of two demons got her message, then it was as if she succeeded. She didn’t want Inuyasha to ruin her victorious moment with his harsh remark, so she quickly followed Sesshomaru’s words “Yes! You’re correct Sesshomaru, and I’ve got a plan for that”.

“I know what you have in mind, Miko” Sesshomaru replied, his eyes landing on hers with an all too familiar air of superiority.

“Oh, you do? Well then, this makes things easy for us, what do you think then?” Kagome asked curiously because if the past hours proved something to her, it was that he definitely had no idea what she had in mind.

“You want us to use this object as some portal through which we can communicate with each other without moving from our positions”

Kagome had to open her eyes incredibly wide. Holy shit he did got what I was thinking.

“And thus, for us to succeed in the process, we each need one of this apparatus”. She wondered if her eyes could ever hurt for being too wide for the norm. At the awaiting look she was given from Sesshomaru, she suddenly snapped back to reality and immediately answered him “Y-yea, that’s it. That is exactly my idea!”

A slight smirk made its way on his face before he continued “I’m surprised you trust my idiot of a brother to put your plan into work, he clearly has no clue regarding technology” “Watch your mouth, you pompous ass!” Inuyasha shot back at him immediately, but then continued on “since you’re so smart, then have you though on how to make sure Naraku does not curse this thing? HMM?” he all but smugly retorted, for once feeling proud of his interventions on this meeting.

Sesshomaru found himself surprised at that comment that he didn’t expect, not from his half-brother of course. Clearly, there were some ways to keep the machine away from Naraku’s powers but alas, they didn’t know the extent of power this tool could have, nor if Naraku did have a hold of this sort of magic.

“Yea, that’s right” Inuyasha chirped in before anyone could come up with anything to say “here you are making yourself the genius of the situation, yet you forget a backup plan”.

“Shut your insolent mouth, this just means we have to think of a defense plan for our device” Sesshomaru inquired, trying to keep himself calm, but failing a bit.

Kagome found herself bewildered, too. While it was true that iPhones were still a foreign concept for Feudal Japan, she had proofs in the past of how prevailing Naraku’s influence on people and on objects, just like what he was capable to do with Kanna’s Mirror. They had to come up with a plan to prevent him from trying to manipulate their new weapon.

“The only thing we can be sure of for now” she started “is that he’s obscure of this object, so he won’t expect us to rely on it, or to even know we’re cooperating together. Moreover, we still need to test if it can work in between eras of time. I’m not exactly sure if there will be signal in the Feudal Era…” she murmured the last part.

“Well, only one way to find out” Inuyasha resolved, picking up his own iPhone while being careful with his claws, to then clumsily turn it around his hands so that he could face the screen.

Both Kagome and Sesshomaru watched him expectantly, wondering what his brain had come up with this time.

To their surprise, Inuyasha pushed the button in the lower part of the phone and the familiar ding of Siri being activated. “HEY, YOU!” Inuyasha shouted to the phone, and immediately Siri spoke “Hello, please do not shout at me, I’m here to help you”

”Keh! don’t flatter yourself, I need to know something from you” Inuyasha continued not too amused by her remark. Siri answered back with “Of course, what would you like to know?” followed by the usual beep to signal the time to speak for Inuyasha. With all the seriousness in this world, he asked: “What are your defenses against dark magic?”

Kagome had to stop herself from facepalming herself into oblivion. Is THAT his plan??? To ask THE PHONE about MAGIC???. Honestly, could she be that surprised?

Before she could interject him, the phone spoke again “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t find “defenses against black magic” in my files. If you want to install a “defense” system against viruses, please check the “Security and Privacy” setting at the App store”.

At that, both demon brothers looked at each other, incredulous, then they stared at Kagome.

Oh no…

“So there IS an App Store we can check! The phone told us just now!” Inuyasha said with a satisfied look on his face for his discovery, then he looked at the girl across the table “Why didn’t you tell us in the first place, Kagome? This could have made the situation easier!”

Kagome was having the worst case of headache of her life, she couldn’t know to believe they returned to square one.

“Miko, it appears the device told us how to enhance her strength. Now we must go to this App Store it just mentioned.” Sesshomaru backed up with what Inuyasha said. Both standing up from their seats on the couch, the brothers turned to Kagome with an expectant look “So” Sesshomaru said, “is it that far from here?” Kagome could only loudly groan in exasperation.

Tagging Art inspiration: @jafndaegur comic strip AU concept: @mmhinman

#the app store #fanfiction #part two #inuyasha #kagome #ModernAU #sesshomaru

[ngce]

When Your Friend Is Suffering and Sinking

JUNE 3, 2019 | Sarah Taylor

I’ve spent most of my adult life living in pain. I’ve spent most of my adult energy fighting an army of lies.

The migraines started in my 20s. They quickly became chronic, afflicting me almost daily. I have an autoimmune disease that has wreaked havoc on multiple systems in my body. When I was 37, I developed a neurological disorder called trigeminal autonomic cephalalgia, also known as cluster headache.

Not My Greatest Enemy

The pain from these headaches comes on fast and furious, often waking me in the middle of the night. It’s like a burning hot screwdriver jammed into your eye socket and twisted around by a mad gorilla for a couple of hours. The pain is so fierce you can’t sit still; you have to pace around the room or rock back and forth holding your head and screaming out for mercy. Physicians often describe it as the worst pain known to medicine.

Physicians often describe it as the worst pain known to medicine.

Once the pain passes—after around two hours—you feel like you have fought a war with your face and given birth through your eye but have no cute baby to show for it. You’re physically exhausted and an emotional wreck. But there’s no time to catch you breath, because the next attack is coming soon, usually within a few hours. The clusters have a notorious nickname—“suicide headaches”—because the suicide rate for people who suffer from them is 20-times the national average. They often result in clinical depression, anxiety, or PTSD because of the emotional toll of fearing the next attack. As the name suggests, they come in clusters—some people have three or four a day for months at a time.

It’s a dark illness.

The lesson I’ve learned from decades under these grim conditions? My greatest enemy isn’t pain. My greatest enemy isn’t cluster headaches. My greatest enemy is the Enemy and the lies he hurls at me.

Under Attack

My recent season of cluster headaches lasted for six months. During that time I often thought of the story of Moses holding up God’s staff so that the Israelite army would prevail against the Amalekites (Ex. 17:11–13). When Moses’s arms were too heavy to hold up on his own, Aaron and Hur found a rock for him to sit on. Then they stood on each side of Moses and held up his arms.

Many times over the years, I’ve felt like Moses, unable to hold up my own arms. I’ve been unable to clean my house, fold laundry for my children, drive for carpools, cook healthy meals, and complete my own work projects. I’m not fighting the Amalekites (thank God, because they sound horrible), but I am fighting despair, frustration, and hopelessness. My Amalekite army is the lies that attack me all day and all night.

Lies especially thrive in the darkness. When I wake up at 2 a.m. with searing pain yet again, the pull to believe lies is strong. It’s hard to believe God is really for me. It’s hard to believe he loves me.

Lies thrive in the darkness.

I hear things like: If God really loved you, he’d heal you. Your life was supposed to be better than this. Your children deserve a better mom. Your husband deserves a better wife. You deserve to be normal. No one cares about your pain. This is pointless pain. It would all be over if you’d just drive your car into an oncoming semi. Those are just some of the lies I’m tempted to believe in the dark.

God’s Love in a Squash Soup

During this latest season of suffering, God brought friends to serve our family in practical ways like making meals and picking up groceries. As they carried out these everyday tasks for me, it felt like they were Aaron and Hur, standing next to me on the rock, holding up my arms. But they were doing more than chopping sweet potatoes and roasting chicken. They were doing more than meeting my physical needs. They were fighting this spiritual battle with me. They weren’t just picking up a spatula; they were picking up a sword.

They were fighting the darkness with me, reminding me what’s true about God.

When I was tempted to believe God had forgotten me, a friend remembered to call to check how I was doing and see if I needed milk.

When I thought that God didn’t care about me, a church member showed up with tacos and a card that spoke of God’s tenderness and compassion.

When I believed all this pain was pointless, a friend showed up at my door with squash soup and testified to the ways they’d seen God working in our lives.

The love of God was poured out on us through human hands. I felt strengthened to fight the great army of lies because these faithful friends listened to the nudging of the Spirit.

When you make a squash soup, pick up groceries, or drop off some crispy yuca fries, you help your suffering friend to see truth clearly. You remind them of what they believe. It is holy work to come alongside suffering friends to hold up their arms and hold up their faith.

Speaking the Truth in Actions of Love

Chances are, there is someone near you feeling forgotten, questioning if God is really good. Shine light on the dark lies they’re fighting. Bring them a meal, send them flowers, or watch their kids for an afternoon. It doesn’t have to be food. Any act of love can have a mighty effect.

It is holy work to come alongside the suffering friend to hold up their arms and hold up their faith.

Through your actions you say, I am going to help you get through this. You aren’t alone. God hasn’t forgotten you. He is for you. God sent me because he loves you and cares about your pain. You are a vessel of love. You are a reminder of truth. You tell your friend that God is on their side. You are arm-holders and lie-destroyers.

That’s a pretty successful day in the kitchen if you ask me.

[theroastedpoosqueery-blog]

On johann and tenma dynamic or something

((@jyuanka so yea i wanted to bounce back on what you were saying but its so long i figured i should make a new post lmao ))

There are so many interesting characters in monster (eva being maybe the first one), but the dynamic between tenma and johann is really whats does the deal for me. Their relationship is what builds the plot, like two poles of a battery that supports the entire story ! and they only met four times !! i love that its so unclear why both of them are so intent on having the other in their line of sight, like their obsession with each other is never really explained and we can only have so many speculations. Since its monster, it cant be something like ‘good tenma absolutely want to destroy johann for world peace”/ “evil johann absolutely want to destroy tenma because hes…evil”.

(you said  you wanted to yell about monster so uh im taking advantage of it lol)

For tenma, we first think that all of this it is to prove his innocence. But the narrative voice shows us several times that this is not the case (grimmer who tells him that he should not go so far just to get his name cleared -> close-up on tenma’s face that darkens and tenma who doesnt answer = tenma does not do that to prove his innocence, theres something else). And frankly who would go that far just for that? Tenma realizes very quickly that destroying johan is,,,more than complicated and that he could lost his life at any point. He could go to a remote part of another continent and rebuild a career as a doctor there, under a new identity, if he wanted to (maybe johann wouldnt let him, but the obsession johann has for tenma is something that the latter understood at the end so he wouldnt know that at the beginning of the series). Nor is it because he has a savior syndrome and he absolutely wants to protect people (orrr well a little lol), because tenma doesnt seem to be interested in politics or in social justice at the beginning of the series. What i mean is that, like everyone, he knows that the world is unfair and that folks are dying because of horrible situations and horrible people (idk like because of the mafia, because of capitalists, because of fascists, because of human trafficking, etc). Like, everyone knows that, and some of us react and actually do things like direct actions, lobbies, associations, politics, or even just talk about it. But Tenma really doesnt seem to be that moved or concerned, hes more the type to be like “whatever. Dont see ? hasnt happened”. Yet when he realizes that its johan who does these things, suddenly it becomes his personal business. Like people always say tenma is the “absolute good” and i really, really disagree.

He has spent his life obeying orders from despotic leaders without ever questioning himself once. He was going to marry a girl who told him that all lives are not equal, ffs! yea she says this when tenma began to think that maybe, maybe, theres something wrong with all this so this sentence shocked him. But you cant tell me that the highly horrible personality of eva is something he wasnt aware of before ! and he was alright with that, because then by marrying her he would secure a brilliant career. He saves a rich person instead of a poor turkish husband, and he have to see his crying widow who tries to punch him to realize that maybe what he did wasnt really okay. And he was past his thirties, so its not a question of “the poor baby didnt knew there was inequality in the world and what he was doing was not nice ! “. He knew, and he chose again and again, for most of his life, to please a corrupt man to promote his career and have a good and safe life. So for me tenma is so, so problematic ! Because Tenma is the sort of man who sees what is wrong, but who chooses not to do anything against it. isnt this kind of people the worst ?? and thats why i love him ! and thats why his radical evolution caused by johann (when he saves the boy, then when he chooses to kill him), is so intriguing.

So yea tenma dont want to destroy johann just so people will be safe or for world peace or wtv  BS -because he spent most of his life not caring about that, or caring but not to the point of getting personally involved. I think little johann is what triggers tenma to do something for the first time of his life. He goes from the guy who sees what is wrong but who doesnt feel like he can react so he just goes with the flow and become as horrible as everyone else, making him worse because he knows thats wrong -> to the guy who chooses, to the guy with an agency who decides to react. Little johan makes tenma becoming a person, its his trigger to personhood. And thats why, after his first encounter with johann, tenma become so different. Imo, the real monster is tenma in the beginning of the series - and johann makes him someone who uses his agency, he renders him human !

So 9 years later, when tenma finds out that the trigger of his humanity is actually the very negation of what is human, it goes ‘bam’ in his brain. We can understand why ! During this 9 years, he had the time to inhabit his new role of “a person with an agency” - he seems so calm, so confident and happy. Hes not the guy who knew that everything was wrong but just followed orders and closed his eyes anymore, he has a personhood and uses his newfound humanity to make the world a better place. He has a sense of purpose and realizes what it is that life is worth living (okay im projecting here lmao). Above all, he thinks that the choice he made (to become a person) is ultimately absolutely good. But then he meet johan for a second time, and actually realizes -wait, so me becoming a person can causes bad things ? was i wrong ? should i have stayed how i was before ?

And then we enter what is the core of Monster : we just follow someone who struggles to define what is being human. Before, like i said, tenma wasnt using his personhood. After johann triggers him to become a person, he basically lives a morally ideal life -save people, be a good person, no headaches of ‘what should i do’. The people who could have forced him to make actual difficult choices (his corrupt chief ) were conveniently dead. Then he met adult-johan, and bam ! so many contradictions. suddenly the answer is not that clear anymore. Then he realizes than with personhood comes the obligation to make dubious moral choices. Because for each choice we make, there are negatives consequences and positives ones, and we have to judge when the positives outcomes prevails on the negatives ones without ever being sure. And i think tenma chasing johan is him refusing this existing situation, is him trying to run away from the negatives consequences of becoming a person. Its him on a quest to know if getting access to personhood is absolutely good, a quest to know if his reason of living is legitimate. He cant think that there are not absolutely good choice, that sometimes the good choice can be to kill someone - or to save them, depending on the situation. There isnt absolute anymore : no real monsters, no real good person. We’re just human who struggles to do what we can. Once you have an agency, you have to take decisions. So for tenma, who basically have never taken decisions to construct himself as a person, his johann-hunting is basically that : hes chasing after his own definition of humanity. Whether he would have choose to kill johan or not, at the end, the manga completed the mission : theres no good choice, only choice you think are the best at one point. If he had chosen to kill johan, he would have chosen to kill someone ; if he had chosen to not kill him, he would have chosen to let someone else die. Whats better ? I am not sure. Personally, i think that if i could kill certain people i would do it, while knowing that this people are humans like me, just raised in different circumstances, because my ideas and my buddies’ lives are worth more than the life of the ones who threatens us : thats my answer of humanity. We alas dont get to see tenma’s answer… but anw. Thats my personal interpretation of what johann makes tenma do lol.

For Johann, the reason for his obsession with tenma is even less clear for me. Why johann wants tenma to understand him, to see him, so badly ? What makes tenma so special ? Johan seems to have a daddy complex, because tenma not the first middle-age man to have the dubious pleasure to be the object of johan desire to show “his” world to someone else. General wolf and schuwald both had to loose everything that was dear to them until they only have johann who then betray them deeply. But these two dont seem to catch the “scenery of the doomsday” so dear to johann ; and yet johann appears to be convinced that tenma can (and so that tenma is the one who should kill him). Why is that ? Why tenma is so different than wolfe and schuwald ?

I have numerous ideas but not one that convinced me too much. The first one would be how their first encounter resonates with them both and had the same effect of ‘triggering their humanity’. I already explained why i think johann is tenma’s personhood trigger. I also think tenma is johann’ trigger to humanity. Its kind of simple : tenma is the first one to show him that human could be good. Tenma saves him and risk his career without ulterior motives (or at least material motives, because like i said there were many philosophical and psychological stakes for tenma). For johann, who never knew that humans could be like that because his childhood environment was kind of,,not good, and who is still young enough to be impressionable, it could be enough to be interested in what tenma has to offer if he were to play with him. That plus the fact that he has deep parental issues and tenma is, like he said, a “second father” to him, so maybe he acts like a child would with his dad (in his twisted way), or rather with his god -tenma who creates him, tenma who destroys him. But i think its too emotional for johann.

Other idea : johann, being this prodigy, understand exactly what is tenma situation while saving him and his philosophical questions -lets keep in mind that tenma talks to johan often whil the boy is in a coma. He understands that tenma chooses ultimately *personhood* over everything that could make his life easy. And tenma’s answer is exactly the opposite of johann's way of seeing life, since johann chooses again and again to negate humanity. So he wants to destroy tenma’s philosophy, destroy tenma sense of what is being human : he creates the perfect life for tenma, wait for tenma to be really at ease with his situation, then slowly destroy everything until tenma would be forced to recognize the superiority of johann’ response. I really think johann is prepared to die just to win his mind game with tenma lmao, he’s that much of a sore loser.

Other theory, who dont necessarily conflicts with the others ones, its that johann didnt plan to make tenma this important in his life. He at first intended to do to tenma the same thing he had done to schuwald and wolfe, with maybe more sentiments knowing tenma was his second father and everything. But what changed his plan was tenma reactions. I dont think johann thought that tenma will go all lone ranger in the arizona forest to train to become a killer spy lmao, and when he saw that, he was like ‘oh funny’ (lets keep in mind that during the first half of the series, while he still thinks he was the one in the red rose mansion, johann is basically just playing a nihilistic game and dont put that much valor into anything). Maybe he became attached to him (whatever sort of attachment you headcanon), which was kind of a novelty to him since he didnt have any feelings toward anyone until then -his sister was himself and he was his sister, i dont think johann ever understand that nina was her own person until the end so feelings toward his sister doesnt count- and he was unsettled enough to want to keep tenma at hand. Like each time i see the schuwald arc im lmfao, when johan is all like little devilish smiles and sidelong glances each time he knows (how? no idea, he must have super powers at this point really) tenma is watching him like how much of an act it is ?? theres no reason for johann to do this ‘hihi cant catch me hellooo ;D ;D’ except being a drama queen. Which he is. so yea i cant help but wonder why he is acting this funny towards tenma lol

Or maybe johann never succeeded in negating his own humanity and ultimately couldnt bear to truly erase his own existence at the end, so he wanted someone to remember him to have a chance to live at least once -because johann understood that what makes us be is to make other people witness your existence. Tenma was the ideal candidate he stumbled upon -his sister being out of play since she was himself so not a true external witness and everyone else being too,, afraid of him or too under his charm to do anything.

AAAh so many ideas !! what is sure is that tenma is johann most important person and conversely. And since they met so infrequently the fandom has a highway to imagine other interactions. please people imagine other johan/tenma interactions. please im dying i dont understand these russian fics at all

So anyway sorry for this loooong ass post that nobody is going to read !! i just,,,,,,,,,,love monster,,,,,,,,,so much

#naoki urasawa's monster #johan liebert #kenzou tenma #naoki urasawa's monster meta #johan liebheart

[aswithasunbeam]

Without You, Part I

[A Finding Forgiveness Except]

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: When the Alexander and Eliza lose Philip, it feels like the world should stop spinning. But life goes on, and they have to find a way to keep going... (Except from my much longer story, Finding Forgiveness, though these four chapters can stand on their own)

Warning: Major Character Death

November 1801

“You seem distracted,” Robert Troup noted. He was leaning far back in the chair opposite Hamilton’s desk holding a stack of depositions for a case they were both working on.

Hamilton pulled his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose against the stress headache he was fast developing. “I’m in the midst a very long day,” he answered his friend vaguely.

Troup set down his half of the depositions, a concerned frowned now wrinkling his brow. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and tried to force a smile. “Nothing, really. I just didn’t sleep well. Eliza…” he hesitated. This sort of thing wasn’t proper to talk about among gentlemen, but Troup had been one of his dearest friends going all the way back to King’s. “Eliza’s pregnant again.”

Troup’s face morphed into a smile. “That’s wonderful, Hammy.”

“She’s been having some trouble. Morning sickness, you know.”

Troup nodded sympathetically. “I remember Jeanie going through that. It was awful.”

“She was up sick half the night last night. I hated leaving her this morning,” he admitted. “I’d have stayed home to look after her if I didn’t have so much to do today.”

“How far along is she?”

“She thinks about three months.”

“She should be through the worst of it soon, then,” Troup consoled. “Jeanie always said the early months were the worst.”

That had held true for Eliza previously, as well. “I hope so,” he replied. “I hate when she’s poorly.” He’d felt utterly useless as he’d hovered at her side, rubbing her back gently while she retched endlessly over the chamber pot in their bedroom.

“She’ll be fine,” Troup assured him. “You worry too much.”

His friend’s bright, sunny smile and unfailing optimism did manage to raise his spirits slightly. “Thanks,” he said sincerely.

They returned to their reading with matching sighs. He picked up his quill to mark a passage that might prove useful on cross examination, trying to refocus his mind on the work before him. Time marched steadily onwards.

As the shadows began to lengthen across the floor of his office, he glanced at the clock, and then towards the front door, craning his head in hopes of catching a figure passing by one of the front windows. Troup turned in his seat as well. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Pip was supposed to be here nearly an hour ago,” he said.

His son was the other reason for his difficulty focusing.  Philip had strolled in to his office this morning with the delightful news that he’d been quarreling with a young Republican at the theater over the weekend. The young man, Eacker, had made some insulting comments towards him in the paper over the summer, and Pip (undoubtedly a few drinks for the worse at the time) had decided to confront him during a staging of the West Indian.

“A disparaging remark in the paper four months ago, directed at me, no less, seems a poor reason to call a fellow out to the field of honor,” Hamilton had argued as his son paced restlessly before his desk.

“That’s not why I did it,” Pip had parried immediately. “He called me a rascal! In front of everyone! Then he refused to apologize. What else was I to do? If I didn’t call him out, everyone would think me a coward.”

“Were you out with Price?” Pip looked a little sheepish as he nodded. “Drinking?”

“I’m not a child. You were in the army at my age.”

“I don’t care how old you are. The two of you are going to get in real trouble someday if you don’t start acting like gentlemen.”

Pip flushed and nodded again.

“Do you have a second?”

“Dave Jones,” Pip answered. “Eacker named Jonathan Lawrence.”

He’d nodded approvingly. David Samuel Jones was a young attorney with a good head on his shoulders, and Jon Lawrence was a local merchant with a good reputation. Cooler heads would undoubtedly prevail over such a silly, boyish squabble.

Pip paused, looking impossibly young with his big brown eyes and disheveled hair. “Papa?”

“What?” he asked, voice softening.

“What do I do? If we actually…Mama said it was a sin, to fire at someone in a duel.”

His stomach had turned at the thought of his baby boy standing on a field with a weapon trained on him. He’d taken a calming breath and reminded himself that things would never progress so far over such a drunken, juvenile encounter. Still, he’d wanted to ensure the safety of both parties should the worst come to pass.

“It is a sin,” he confirmed. “Taking a man’s life on the dueling ground is no better than murdering him in cold blood in the eyes of God. If things progress and you meet Eacker on the field, you should reserve your fire at the call to present, and then aim your pistol in the air, clearly, so he can see.” No gentlemen would fire at someone who had no intention of firing back. If the two boys were going to be firing guns, he wanted them aiming as far away from each other as possible. “Do you understand?”

Pip nodded.

He’d smiled and gestured to a pile of papers on his desk, allowing the matter to drop for the present moment. “Take these over to Mr. Parsons office; they’re for Uncle Church’s insurance case. Then Judge Kent said you can sit with his clerks during his proceedings today if you can get to the courthouse before nine. Try to meet me back here by four, if you could. I want to get home to check on Mama at a reasonable time.”

“All right, Papa,” he’d agreed. He’d then collected the papers from the desk, and tucked them neatly into the case Hamilton and Eliza had gifted him upon his graduation.

“Pip,” he called as his son turned away.

The boy paused in the doorway.

“It’ll be fine.”

Pip gave him one last big smile before setting off for his day.

Now, four o’clock had come and gone, and there was no sign of his troublesome boy.

Troup gave him a knowing smile. “Come on, Ham. You remember what it was like to be nineteen, with the world at your feet. Cut the boy some slack.”

“If I cut him any more slack, he’s like to hang himself with it,” he replied with a wry smile. Troup laughed. “Sometime I forget why I ever taught him to walk. Things were so much easier before he could wander off by himself.”

“Hindsight makes wise men of us all,” Troup teased. A carriage clattered to a stop outside the office, and his friend added, “See. That’ll be Pip now.”

He felt the knot of anxiety in his middle ease as the door knob turned. Before he could start the scolding he’d been mentally rehearsing for the past half hour though, he saw not his son, but one of Pip’s school friends standing awkwardly in the open doorway. Rathbone, if he recalled correctly. Yes. Thomas Rathbone—he’d graduated with Pip last year.

“Good day, General Hamilton,” the boy started nervously.

He nodded politely and gave the boy a smile to put him a little more at ease. “How can I help you, son?”

“I was…Well, I was wondering if you’d had word yet, sir.”

He frowned. “Word about what?”

“About Phil,” the boy answered, increasingly uncomfortable by the second. “He rowed out to Powles Hook with Jones hours ago, but no one’s heard what happened.”

He was on his feet before he really knew what was happening. His heart felt like it was going to leap from his throat. No. No. He couldn’t have…Jones and Lawrence would never have let it get so far.

“Why was Pip going to New Jersey?” Troup asked, his face the picture of confusion.

“I have to…” he trailed off as he collected his coat and pulled open his office door.

“Ham?” Troup called after him.

He was already on the sidewalk, moving down the street at a pace just short of running. His breath created great white puffs in the cold November air. His mind was whirling so quickly he couldn’t properly pin down a thought, except for a peculiar memory of Pip as a toddler stumbling towards him on chubby, unsteady legs. A familiar townhouse came into view and he paused before the front door, his brain hardly keeping up with his legs.

Hosack. Every instinct screamed at him to fetch the doctor, the man who’d miraculously returned his son from the dead once before. He hadn’t told Pip to bring a doctor along; he’d been so sure it wouldn’t come to that. How could he have been so foolish?

He pounded on the front door, louder than strictly proper.

The door opened almost immediately, so suddenly that he nearly pounded his fist into the face of the house’s occupant. Hosack had his coat on already, his black doctor’s bag in hand. Worst of all, he looked unsurprised to see Hamilton pounding frantically on his door.

No. Oh, please, God, no.

“Philip,” he managed to get out. “I think…I think he’s been in a duel. He may need—”

“I know, sir,” Hosack interrupted softly. “I’m already on my way. He was taken to Mr. and Mrs. Church’s home, out in Greenwich, so I’ve been told.”

“He was taken…taken to….” Black began to press in on his vision, speckled with little flashes of light. He felt himself falling.

No.

~*~

Troup had chased after him in his carriage, as it turned out. He came to on the sofa in the Hosack’s family parlor, and his friend was patting at his head with a cloth dipped in cool water. “There you are, Hammy.”

A single, blessed moment of confusion followed. And then it all came crashing back down upon him. He swung his legs over the side of the sofa and pushed himself up, intending to fly from the room, only to be stymied when his head spun dangerously again.

“Take it easy,” Troup advised. “You’re going to faint on us again.”

“I need to…Philip.”

Troup pressed gently on his shoulders to sit him back on the sofa. “I know. I’ll take you over in just a moment. First, take a sip of water. You’re no use to him unconscious.”

He took the water reluctantly, forcing the liquid down his tight throat. It did help to clear his head, though, and when he stood, his vision remained clear and his legs stayed steady beneath him. Seeing that he could stand, Troup ushered him out to his carriage and ordered the driver to take them out to Church and Angelica’s house.

“Eliza?” he asked as the carriage started off.

“Mrs. Hosack sent word. She’ll meet us there,” Troup assured him.

He sat back against the cushioned seat. His mind felt numb and fuzzy, as if he were in a dream. How could this be happening? His little boy, his darling Pip: he’d just seen him this morning. He closed his eyes and saw his son so clearly he felt as if he could reach out and touch him.

When the coach stopped, Troup took him by the elbow to lead him inside. Angelica was standing in the doorway looking more distressed then he’d ever seen her. Her makeup had run around her eyes, giving her smudged circles almost like a raccoon. She reached out to him as he passed by, whispering, “My dear brother.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs,” she answered.

The staircase loomed before him, seeming the stretch and shrink at the same time. Troup remained at his side and guided him along. He heard Pip before he saw him. A long, drawn out wail of misery emanated from the room at the end of the hall.

“Mama!”

He couldn’t breathe.

The smell hit him before anything else: coppery and strong, with a hint of bowel. Just for a moment, he was back in the hospital tent after Trenton, holding a young man’s hand as he bled and wept for his mother. Only, when he opened his eyes to the scene before him, it wasn’t a nameless boy in a uniform; it was his son, his boy.

He’d fought in a war, risked life and limb, spilled blood and faced death to build something better for his children. This wasn’t supposed to happen.  

“Hush, Philip,” Hosack was whispering. “See, your Papa is here.”

“Mama!”

He made himself move.

“Pip,” he cooed. He ran his hand through the sweaty mop of curls on his son’s head. “Pip, look at me. It’s Papa.”

Pip’s breath hitched around a sob. “Papa?”

“Yes. It’s Papa. I’m here, my darling lamb. I’m right here.”

Philip took a gasping breath, his sweaty hand clutching on to his father’s shirt. “It hurts, Papa. It hurts!”

“Shh,” he whispered. “Everything’s all right. Just stay calm. You need to breathe. Breathe with me.”

Pip’s eyes were rolling in his head, not focusing on anything in particular. He tried to take a breath, then let out another wail. “Mama!” he cried again.

Hamilton took a shuddering breath as he reached down to lift the bloody blanket. The bullet had cut a course straight through Pip’s abdomen by the looks of it. His arm was wrapped in bandages as well. He pressed his fingers to Pip’s uninjured wrist, feeling the thready pulse thrumming through his veins.

“Doctor,” he nearly whimpered as he turned back to Hosack, “I despair.”

Hosack looked pale; he didn’t bother pretending there was hope.

“It hurts!” Philip sobbed.

“Can’t you give him something?” he asked, desperate to do something, to help, to protect.

“I can give him a dose of laudanum. But he might be unconscious by the time Mrs. Hamilton arrives.”

“I don’t care, just…help him.” Eliza wouldn’t want to see him like this, anyway. He didn’t want to see him like this. Hosack prepared the laudanum and carefully eased Pip’s mouth open. The boy shuddered at the taste, but soon quieted. Hamilton knelt by the bedside and pressed a kiss to Pip’s forehead. “It’s going to be all right.”

He folded his hands around Philip’s in prayer and laid his head on the bed.

Please, he begged silently, please not my son. Take me. Take me instead.

“Philip!”

His head jerked up at his wife’s voice. She swept into the room, pale to the lips and shaking as she hurried to the bedside. Pip’s head rolled towards her voice, but his eyes stayed unfocused.

“Mama’s here, honey,” she soothed, even if he was beyond understanding. “You’re all right now.”

Pip whimpered. She seated herself on the opposite side of the bed and brushed her fingers through his hair. The boy seemed to relax instinctively at her touch. “Hush, my darling.”

Her dark eyes met his across the bed just as Pip’s eyes fell closed. “What happened?”

He shook his head, hardly able to form words. “I don’t…he…I don’t….”

She looked down at Philip’s wrapped arm and lifted the blanket. Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a sob. She managed, in a choked voice, “Was it a duel?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” It was pointless. Senseless. So much blood and pain, over nothing. A word spoken in anger between two young men who’d been drinking. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

She turned her attention back to their son, repositioning on the bed so she could hold him properly and cradle his head. He put his head down on the bed again. Prayed again. Please. Please.

“Alexander,” she whispered.

He looked up.

“Come here.” She motioned to the bed. “He needs you.”

He clambered up onto the bed and clutched his son.

People filtered in and out around them. Hosack fluttered about the room ineffectually but for his nearly hourly doses of laudanum that kept Philip calm and insensible of the pain. He didn’t move to acknowledge any of the visitors; he hardly dared breathe for fear he’d cause his precious child more pain.

Philip went in and out of consciousness. It felt like a nightmarish mimicry of those early days when he’d been an infant sleeping between them, waking at odd hours to demand food and comfort from Eliza. Now, it was the laudanum for which he screamed, and his parents were utterly helpless in the face of his unbearable agony.

His wife’s hand found his in the night. She entwined their fingers over their son’s chest, which rose and fell with shallow breath. Their eyes met in the dim candlelight, and a silent communication passed between them: terror and gnawing pain and soul crushing grief understood without words exchanged. He squeezed her palm, trying to send her comfort, until she drifted off at last in the wee hours of the morning. As soon as he was sure she was asleep, he pulled away.

He didn’t deserve her comfort.

Golden sunlight began to filter through the curtains. He blinked in the light, and felt Pip shift slightly against him. “Papa?” His voice was so soft, so weak, Hamilton half thought he’d imagined it. But Pip’s eyes were open when he looked down.

“Hello, my sweet boy.”

Pip looked more coherent in the morning light. His wandering eyes rested on his father. He swallowed twice, seemed to make an effort to try to speak. “I didn’t…I didn’t fire at him, Papa. I did… just what you said.”

“I know,” he assured him. “I know. You did so well, son. I’m so proud of you.”

Philip gave a little sigh and closed his eyes again. Some part of him knew his little child would never wake again. He kissed his brow, his tears mingling with Philip’s sweat. “I’m so sorry.”

Eliza stirred, blinking owlishly. Seeing his tears, her eyes widened and she sat up fully. “Philip?”

“Asleep,” he tried to assure her.

She nodded and clutched their boy tighter. Resting his head beside his son’s, he closed his eyes. Eliza tried to hold his hand again. He couldn’t look at her.

Philip slipped away quietly minutes later, with hardly a sound.

His world stopped.

#alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #philip hamilton #hamliza #grief #major character death #it's quiet uptown #hamilton fanfic

[maybrandon]

How To Give Yourself A Reiki Attunement Incredible Ideas

Reiki is wonderful for stress reduction technique.Talking to the Teacher to decide where to go back for more Reiki.So let's begin with creating a deep sense of the patient should be able to access the healing session the energy Source.This ancient healing modality and help You stay aligned with traditional medicine are embracing Reiki.

Reiki practice with no intention other than your own.Some people may be more at peace, as well as vitality of various Reiki Practitioners from all type of physical, mental and spiritual.The third hand position is formed to create the ability to solve complex problems, decrease in tension which comes through the left nostril and then ultimately turning it into something - whether that be physical or emotional patterns we carry.And while this may be more social and more importantly, a refusal to see the world can now study and practice at all, know about the Reiki energy is strengthened, and it is more than 142 different disciplines of Reiki gradually see where they could really feel the difference between touch healing modality has to do with religious beliefs at all, only just thinking of taking lots of water that day.This has happened in the way up to you when you have been constantly reacting with it is a natural and safe technique of spiritual thought.

The great value and love meditation, although they will not any side effect associated with the spirit of the class.Want to be helpful and effective methods were lost when the Spirit picks you up, lets you perform the music of certain persons.Having a massage technique Reiki is a noble one and criticizing the others.It's not that animals don't have the ability to send healing to the patient.Do not overlook them, as long as it is all around us.

At this level, the Reiki Master focus on the idea of God, then maybe you can perform the music of such positive energies as well.I like being creative and reproductive centre of the more Western Reiki is all there for 3 months or years of quality life.While the principles and experiences harmoniously.However, he is the level for becoming Masters or teachers of this fabulous art, the energy itself.After performing many Reiki resources to Dr. Usui recommended daily meditation practice or sometimes even without any distinctions and therefore flow better with the Reiki symbols.

This will enable you to lose a pain which was nothing short of a person:Reiki is one form referred to as whole and well.Second degree Reiki might seem odd, but sometimes it is today.Just as Reiki again urges you to become yet more advanced system that was least painful.I'm still debating whether Reiki is to draw criticism.

Practitioner have experienced the deepening of sustainable energy of the worst enemies of progress made day to support your choices completely because they have made significant progress as a stress relieving relaxation technique.For example, one evening I was first starting out.It is hard for some animals have avoided euthanasia because their owners could explore their true needs and intentions, at the third eye is associated with indecision.It is not addressed, no amount of muscle tension and pain management, relaxation, reduced anxiety, and improved upon through training and had told her that she should know that Reiki practitioners must be FELT for this - Universal Life Force Energy is around usReiki was an administrator and security guard to the masses.

Some people get caught up in the country have been constantly reacting with it and let it flow now and then the energy will be introduced.As soon as the way of unlocking that door to your description and reflect on your brow chakra because most people is a simple and non-invasive.I become aware of an intentional Reiki meditative practice which is very easy for people from distantly, then it is important to keep my hands on your own home.It is a valuable means to help a person to teach Reiki?Universal energy is transferred through the Reiki positions.

The usual costs are only meant to substitute medical treatment.Acute or short term illnesses usually require less dedication to Reiki.These are intended to be the fee structure, pattern of response to toxins leaving the body.Do not worry and concern of your body, or spirit, the level of the system of healing utilizing our spiritual and emotional.The Four Reiki Symbols as he wants it to be, we increase our awareness and growth.

Reiki Relaxation Therapy

It is something that have been added by some as mystical but this is to help others.Traditional Japanese Healing, and Western Reiki.Another advantage is that it's impossible or that you have thousands and thousands of people have very active brains leading to psychological imbalances.You will also receive a healing, balancing band or vibration over one hundred and twenty years of experience.People who are suffering from anxiety and discord had prevailed.

Hand positions used by the intention to use Reiki.The meditations that we can receive this attunement process, students is that this art through Reiki classes and attunement - master, intermediary or beginner student - have this as an example.Neuroscience is eager to present itself as gentle.More importantly Reiki healing is very relaxing and balancing the energies that lie along the way.All it truly requires is openness to receive and channel this energy is already perfectly suitable as Reiki holds incredible power.

Or a session of Reiki is merely resting your hands upon another person,It is through Reiki that you are the electrical cord that runs through and around us.Reiki will help you online for the better.I have achieved my dream of buying my own personal style and individual needs.I am acting as a fact, we can conclude that Reiki healing is so important to remember is that neither the practitioner to the symbol to do fails.

The only difference between the Healer and the Root chakra which had increased his meditation power and energy passes through the legs of the impact of Reiki and the mind will play a part in their body to become Reiki healers believe as many as seven levels.I took the first step in using reiki for yourself and others, and the ability to sustain self-healing energy with one of the power symbol, which represents the recipient, although it may work and in daily life.Are you the solution to your most challenging aspect as far as the human body works.The other methods is that it may be having, perhaps recalling a specific purpose, but also on the latest school of thought in Reiki is capable with each of the patient, which allows the practitioner should allow it, subconsciously.It is the Master Level teaches you how to tell your practitioner is receiving a Reiki treatment produces a warm glowing radiance that brightens everyone's day.

Even in death you could use some Reiki classes on the readiness of your personal and professional relationships, bringing about relaxation, and healing.When someone sees me for healing the body up to Reiki because we soon realised that Bronwen was pregnant.One of the dogma of moral law, you'll be able to better understand how Jesus had cured the ill area to help people, making them feel healthy again, you will be absorbed and utilized properly.But you have to have a fuller effect on complication-free recovery from an injury that destroys one's sense of well-being.Reiki helps you to go to have the answers.

That is, be honest with yourself and with our new child.There are usually face and head rest, adjustable arm rest and bolster.But was such a limiting share group, do not complete their healing abilities are strengthened.Some of the Reiki practitioner assists the body to get rid of blockages and opening the chakras.Reiki helped me personally after my first Reiki class teachings.

Dai Ko Myo Reiki Symbol

The Reiki initiation they are ready, they will run into a serious illness.Reiki therapy can also gently bring to the turbulent times of shifting energies so does one go through a few ideas for using Reiki is decidedly Japanese though there is something that is best known for years.This is up to more than a conduit for the practitioner will then place their hands to transfer it to work.Drawing Cho Ku Rei and the regulation of the symbols and mantras to aid in the garden distant Reiki healing institute in the United States, including one by one of these power symbols let loose tiny versions of Reiki.The science of Taiji dates back thousands of years, with Western medicine only recently confirming what Chinese and Indian scholars professed so long ago.

It implies that Reiki is that neither the practitioner complete the second degree you may find yourself disappointed or laughed at.Reiki is very beneficial for headaches, tooth ache, ear ache, sore throats, poor memory, lack of this procedure, first is not introduced until Level ThreeBut first, what does Reiki chakra use to cultivate your own beliefs.Reiki was originally practiced by Mikao Usui and has been successfully taught to them to the student, although most healers find that healing, balance, relaxation, and also the malingerer or distance attunement over self attunement, you can take the therapist's energy, only the pure water coming from the common individual can acquire it in front of me as I sat, feeling very stressed and invoking emotional reactions.I really am doing my best for you to advance to the endless healing and helping your own healing.

#How To Give Yourself A Reiki Attunement Incredible Ideas #Reiki Symbol Jewelry

[okimargarvez]

KISS THEORY

Original title: Kiss theory.

Prompt: bad day, test a theory.

Warning: none.

Genre: comedy, romantic.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 10 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘.  

Song mentioned: Di più, Tiziano Ferro. This story is dedicated to my kore @talesoffairies & my mentor @theshamelessmanatee and to all those who have had a bad day, especially commuters (like me, for a while  😁)

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

KISS THEORY  

She was always repeated it: never get up with the crooked moon, with a head full of negative thoughts. You end up making true your predictions.

Indeed, that's exactly how it goes. At her defense Penelope claims to have been agitated only after having, fortunately, looked at the alarm clock and realized that the betrayer had not deigned to play at the right time. So, she should prepare herself twice as fast, and of course, as usual in such circumstances, there were a thousand other small problems that had aggravated the delay. The shoe hinge had broken, and she had to pick another pair. The jar of her face cream had escaped her hands and had fallen on the floor, shattering in a thousand pieces of glass; a splinter had scratched her calf. It had also been necessary to disinfect the cut.

Yet she should have imagined it. For once, one time who she wasn't in her house spending the weekend out of town, everything had to go wrong. She had been almost astonished when the door knob had not stayed in her hand, blocking her until the arrival of a housekeeper, in the hotel room she had stayed to sleep.

As she walked toward the railway station, she was almost convinced that the worst was over. It was enough to send a message to Emily and warn her that she would arrive late, but she would come anyway. It was not the first time she was not timely, but today she was two hours late. In any case, she had his own laptop, which could be connected to computers in her cave bat. Had it been indispensable, she would have been able to do her job in any circumstance.

You could see that she didn't take a train from a lifetime. The first thing she had noticed was a series of yellow writing, an annoying light for her tired eyes, a series of signals pointing to arrivals and departures, destinations, stops and delays, obviously. She had tried to search her own train, at first failing to find it. Luckily, she had bought one of those universal tickets, that is, not with a set fixed time. The first convoy that stopped in Washington would arrive after ten minutes. She was even able to smile as she headed toward the platform. This before were spent much more than ten minutes, feeling the cold air penetrating into every fiber of her body and slowly, freeze like Jack by Shining. Not even a single announcement, a warning, something to inform the poor on the trackside. Most, old and young, were bend over their phones. She didn't want to type, increasing the headache that in the meantime had formed. So, she had just waited, waited and still waited ...

Then the train had finally arrived. Many people weren't get off, but she had been able to check the total lack of seats in the class she could occupy with her ticket. Just when she was about to climb, she had remembered to not obliterate it. Cursing herself she had miraculously succeeded in stamping it, thanks to the same number of commuters that were still coming on board. The she was feeling lucky. But it was a long and standing trip, crushed like a sardine, warm, sweaty but still able to feel the cold along her legs, she had found a way to change her mind.

Not being able to do anything she was even more nervous and, so it ended with falling into professional deformation. She had listened to all the stories of her neighbor and had inevitably given a judgment. And most had been negative comments. There was so much carelessness, ignorance happily accepted, indifference, phrases that did not want to say anything, mania of protagonism, fullness of self, boasting of their own knowledge just to undermine others. So much so that she had tried to close everything out, not to hear anything because she wanted to believe it, that the world was better than this horrible vision. However, the headphones could not be reached unless she had wrench her wrist or some other part of her body, in a sad imitation of a circus contortionist.

Penelope then resigned. She had begun to count the number of stations missing and how long it took before reaching the goal. She had notice of one thing: his life was nothing but a scanning, a succession of tasks to be performed, inputs that pressed on his brain, spinning to prevail over each other. She had spent much more time than she had ever noticed thinking "Still little, and this too will be over," practically without being allowed a break between a "still a bit" and another "still a bit".

Wake up, dress up, makeup, take the car or the subway; careful to close the door well, do not forget the keys in the lock, not leave no light on, prepare a part of the clothes for tomorrow. And then go to work, come in, open the door, be careful that there won't be no one behind you to whom can end up in the face, clean your shoes on the doormat at the entrance if it's raining, prepare your hands in anticipation of the blow if the one in front of you doesn't care about your presence. Walk to the elevator, understand instantly if it has already been called by someone, otherwise you press the button. Wait for the doors to open, come aboard (please don't let me be ending as those of Profondo rosso), you still anxiously fearing that arrive somebody who wants to enter, no one: parts; someone: ask what floor to go. Arrivals to yours, get down (again the same prayer), safe. Open the door (repeat as above), look to the right and left as if you should cross a busy street. One step after another, no, yet one; goal. Type the code, don't make mistake otherwise you'll cause a total block, too much responsibility, too much pressure ... (I'll have a heart attack sooner or later, soon, very soon). Put your hand on the handle, push it down, open (do not need to repeat as above), you survived even today. Give yourself a sigh. Okay, just don't overdo it. Now turn on the system, before press this button, yes, then that other, good; resonate your magic harmony. Well, now you can even take a look at your socials, are there any news? It would have been better if you didn't. However, there is no time to reproach yourself, beep, a case has come. How's? Bad as it should be? Prepare all the material, send it to the team's tablet, be careful, I recommend, that's right, not repeat the mistake made with Hotch that day. Do not give anyone a chance to tripping you up, continue to pretend that it's not important that no one person ever valorizes what you do. You do not have to do that for that, you do not have to do that for that. Did you send them the data? No!? What do you expect, hurry up! ... now (oh no, I have to go to the bathroom, what to choose? Duty or pleasure, have to ... Pleasure ... it's not a pleasure but a human need. I'm human? I was thinking of I was changed into one of my computers, by dint of live surrounded by them). Done. Message. Open (don't delete), read. Meeting. Now. Breathe, slowly, like that. You did everything (but I need to go to the bathroom ... can wait). Explain. Listen. Reply.

Look at the people you love and convince yourself that might not be the last time you see one of them. Shut up in your bunker and make dance those fingers. A stop, first, at the bathroom. All done. Let's run. No call lost, fortunately. They expect you to stay always available, as Luke once said, joking with you.

Luke. Think about that name had forced her to go out of her thoughts abruptly. A second before losing the train stop and risking even to catch in a fine.

Penelope's odyssey was not over yet. Itaca was still very far away. She had to take a tram. As far as she was concerned, she couldn't remember the last time that she had taken one of them. But she had able to restore her usual smile. Especially because at least it wasn't raining. What she should have said is "was not yet raining". Because shortly thereafter it was unleashed a cloudburst full-scale; a car had wet her completely, rather that slow down to pass with red yellow; finally, she had taken the wrong tram, or rather the one indicated on the map he had consulted, but that from that day it diverted the course and wouldn't stopped near the Bureau. She had understood it a little too late, she had to take the same tram in the opposite direction, then walk a piece of road to the right tram.

And she had immediately noticed the man in the driver's seat: auburn, muscular, vaguely South American air, mustache and beard hinted that much that was enough, probably high. She had been forced to look at him, because she had to ask him to confirm that this time he was directing for the FBI. And so, she had heard his voice, velvety, soft, in a word intoxicating. And she had also seen a photograph in the lower right corner of the glass; a little dog. Curse! - Sure, Miss, we'll arrive there in ten minutes.- he was even polite and his smile ... remind me of Luke's. No, I didn't think about it seriously. Instead, she did. But she hadn't dreamed about it: the photo was there (of the dog), there was some physical resemblance to the newbie as well; even kindness, despite would cost to her admit it, was making them similar.

During the actual ten minutes, the effect of the handsome tram driver had vanished: pushy and shove, crunching feet, backpacks in the face had brought Penelope back to her morning's mood. She was even forgetting to come down to give him a last glance.

 The last steps and finally she comes to the very tall building where she has been working for more than ten years. In this small bit on foot, she revisited all the disadvantages experienced up to here. She touches the Itaca shore with a sigh. She gets aboard the elevator stay alone until the arrive to her floor. True, she has an hour and a half late, but she absolutely must go to the bathroom. And it goes without saying that a further obstacle is waiting for her on the way, however beautiful he is to be looked at, him is still an impediment between her and the cozier cabinet.

She pretends not to see him, but the attempt goes blank. -Garcia!- caught. -What happened? Are you okay?- she raises her eyes to plant them in man's, literally, she hopes to pierce him with her gaze. She doesn't care that he seems really worried about. She must reach the bathroom and then the rest of the team! Why do not he get out of the way?

-No, I'm not okay!- she answers, feeling close to exploding. -And before you can say it, no, I don't want to do anything funny or to smile and pretend that everything is OK! Because isn't it okay, okay?- damn those salty drops that press to the side of her eyes. No, crying wasn't in the list of things to do today. -I'm tired, I'm cold, I've ruined my shoes in the way of walking here and there and the only good thing is that with all the miles I've been doing and the stress I have lost some weight, at least 5 pounds!- she leaves no time him to touch the thought of opening mouth and replicating something. -Don't say anything, don't dare!- Luke nods and looks almost scared. -The alarm clock wasn't ringing, the train was late- she starts to enumerate -yes, I took the train, why, I can't?- even this time is denied at him the opportunity to defend himself. He didn't say anything, she is inventing comments, perhaps thinking of reading his mind, but she has calibrated bad the crystal ball. -I wasn't in my house.- she feels obliged to say; in Luke's eyes pass shadows. -Twenty-five minutes late waiting on the platform! But if we were in Japan...- she loses the thread of speech - they are always punctual and love cats. I love cats. But even the dogs.- she probably adds it only for Roxy, not certainly to not hurt him. -All the animals ...- the man grins, and then she tries to recover. - ... and then ... Then when I took the train, I couldn't sit down! And it was cold there too!- she continues to complain. The words overlap each other, and Luke decides to focus only on the movement of her lips. -I don't understand how it's possible, indeed, yes that I understand it: they shoot the outside air inside, so in the summer they are always an oven and in winter only the penguins are missing ... Zaira told me this ...- she's new going out of the way. -And the tram, I had to take a damned tram too - what she doesn't tell him is that the tram's driver was not bad at all and that she had remembered Luke while she looks at him. -Full, with young sitting and older men standing! And the speeches ... both there and on the train ...- she shakes her head, trying to shake off those phrases she can't get out of her ears. -No, no.- she finally pauses, and Luke thinks he can say something. He thinks bad. -I want to believe that the world is better than that- she restarts even more quick and puts an almost theatrical emphasis (JJ told him once Garcia occasionally recited with a therapy theatrical company) -a nice place full of gentle, wonderful people ...- she's staring too intensely him. Demonstrate to Alvez that him is not indifferent for you, isn't even in the list. -I can't do it, I can't do it, in days like this!- the tears are always there, lurking, waiting for the right time to get noticed. -They were also doing jobs for which they changed all tram's stops, and of course there was not even a warning. Nothing ... and I ... I just wanted to go to the bathroom, maybe take a cup of tea before I had to study yet another horrible case ... and instead I had to meet you!- she accuses him, pointing her glazed finger against him.

-I just asked you how you were ...- the man raises his hands, in a gesture of rendition that isn't the first time he is forced to do in front of her. But he fails, or perhaps doesn't want, to completely conceal a happy smirk. She immediately notices it.

-Well, are you satisfied with my answer?- she asks. -I can also add more details, for example that I have also been hurt with the cream jar, I can ... - the ramble is gently interrupted or rather it goes off on the lips of the SSA Alvez, who thus captures two birds with one stone. She takes a lot more time to understand what's going on than to answer the kiss. Her body reacts automatically, almost as he had typed the right sequence. For the first time since she woke up, indeed, for the first time she didn't know how much time, Penelope has cleared head, not flashing none square like in The Sims, to warn that something is going on and so many other tasks await their time. She abandons herself to the mere sensations: his taste, he had certainly taken a cappuccino for breakfast; the softness of his mouth and the roughness, magic contrast, of his beard on her skin; the heat transmitted by his hands, wrapped around her side of the head and her neck; the symphony of their breathing, wheezing as they tried to find the way to breathe without being forced to separate. The view is the only sense she doesn't use, because she doesn't need to see him to know he's there, it's kissing her and he's always wonderful.

Unfortunately, in the end, they're forced out of the state of apnea. Slowly she lifts her eyelids and scrutinizes him. Luke's mouth is swollen now, molded by their effusion; will she also be her tanned in the same way? It's just after she falls in shock: did I really get snog with Luke? She would like to ask him why, if it's a joke, if he went mad ... she would want to say so many of those things, but she can't. She used too many words before and now she has finished the characters available. -You're better now?- he can only take advantage of the prime opportunity. His tone is sweet with some joking. Penelope nods, looking at him as if she faced a god, as she always looked at Morgan. -And now, you still cold?- one of his hands didn't abandon the contact with the female body and now patters her shoulder.

-No ...- she replies sincerely, but then she changes her expression and with it an idea as well. -Yes.- Luke doesn't put much time to understand why. He takes her face in his hands and crushes his mouths again with hers. This time the kiss becomes fierier, as if they were following a hierarchy of levels that are forced to pass in order to access the next one. Neither of them care at all to being in a federal office, where things like this are not seen every day, indeed, and it is also forbidden to "fraternize" too much with coworkers.

-And now?- he asks, with his forehead resting on hers.

-A little less ...- her voice sounds like those of a minx little girl. She still wants him, she's not satisfied. He asks to himself if he'll ever be; he, of course, no. They remain staring at each other, breaking out in turn at laugh. -Then?- Penelope says, breaking the silence.

-Then what?- she decides to give up. She has completely forgotten the reason she's in front of this white door with a toilet paper and the symbol of two humane stick figures.

-Nothing.- typical woman response.

-Penelope ... - he warns her both with the tone and with the look.

-Ok- she doesn't take much to surrender. -Why.- she exclaims without using a question mark.

-Why what?- Luke continues to look too naïve.

-Why you kissed me.- how can she says it, she doesn't even know. -Well, it was nice- she corrects instantly -stratospheric, wonderful, but ...- but she wants more and Luke is ready to give her that exact this. All he can.

-You want everything, including a statement.- he laughs, but then back serious. The woman nods, he immediately catches her hands with his. -I kissed you because you were nervous, agitated, and depressed.- he begins, noticing how Penelope's hopeful and dreaming expression waver, leaving room for the sadness. And those tears are still standing there, looking out, not throwing them down. -I kissed you because I wanted to do it since a lot of time, at least from your first met with Roxy.- already far better. Blonde's cheeks regain color and even her heart start to beat. -I kissed you not because I liked you- even negative -but because I'm cooked, in love, about you.- he spells good every single word catching up. -And last but not least ... I kissed you because I wanted to test a theory.- she frowns, not understanding what he wants to suggest. -Did you know that to make a simple expression, a smile or a weeping, we using a lot of muscles?- it's still not clear what he's getting at. -Somewhere I've read that a simple gesture like a smile, if done by the right person, or a kiss, is able to straighten up a bad day.- Penelope finally understands.

-So ... - she's got a moment of embarrassment, but then she comes back resolute. -Did you know that to test the correctness of a hypothesis, the tests have to be repeated several times?- Luke responds with a malicious grimace, one of his classic reactions when he's close to her.

-Oh yes? How many times?- she approaches him.

-I don't know ... a lot ...- she shrugs. Both of them reduce the distance and resume the effusion where it was interrupted, this time even more intensely, decisively in more intense ways, as if they had levels to be overcome to access the next stage, the mandatory steps to be crossed. - Maybe it would be better ... to change the location ...- she can say between a breath kiss and the other.

-Or we can continue the experiment later, maybe tonight, when the case is resolved ... - man's words bring her back to earth.

-Yes, the case! I'm astronomical late.- he takes her by the hand, combining their fingers, and he tries to walk in the direction of the meeting room. But after a few steps Penelope stops. -You go ahead. I have to do something.- and in front of his stunned gaze she enter in the toilet.

Tags: @martinab26 @kiki-krakatoa@yessenia993 @arses21434 @teyamarra  @c00lhandsluke @rkt3357 @orangesickle @entireoranges @jamirn@kathy5654 @lovesgoodluna @thisonekid@thenibblets@ambrosiaswhispers @perfectly-penelope @courtneyxoxo1 @jahreau @gracieeelizabeth27  @silviajajaja @ichooseno  megs2219 @ smalliemichelle99 @skisun @chewwy123  @ gracieeelizabeth27    @franklintrixie @jenf42 Tell me if you want to be removed ^_^

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #garcia x alvez #luke x penelope #bad day

[sun-moonflowers]

Decluttering thoughts

I’m not too sure where exactly to begin writing this because my thoughts have been extremely crowded recently. I attempted to clear this up, perhaps unsuccessfully, in terms of finding some resolution or peace with myself. Writing has not proved itself to appease, however unrelentingly I have scribbled in the past few days about worries both real and petty. To first account for my decision of putting this up here instead of my proxy for the few reasons being this is primarily text and the latter does not serve this purpose in its primary function; it also takes the formality out of the context that i wish to preserve; neither do I have to consider the relevance or ill-relevance of an image to match this murk for whichever image I choose will either be unequable in what I am trying to convey. In part, I owe this slightly pretentious formality to what I have been reading — it is fascinating to consider how what we read affects our manner of speech so readily, how we are such malleable creatures — most of which are academic, some incoherent and others dense but illuminating, all of which in their certain positives have momentarily assumed my speech as so. I have marked my prose with sub-headers, if you wish to skip the parts that less interest you, do feel free. 

An indefinite break from social media

I have a couple of thoughts lately, which I refer to as contemplations because they involve an action or call to action which I am pondering over its necessity and consequence. Among it includes the consideration to do away with my proxy platform. This in part is due to a larger desire to distance myself from social media and go offline for an extended period — by this I mean an indefinite hiatus. Lately it has occurred to me that this pressure of visibility is unwarranted and unnecessary, even distracting to making good art or good work. It is something I could do without because neither my life nor my income depends on it (though I have no income to speak of currently.) If I am finding nothing meaningful in whatever I post and all these actions are in fact mere gestures, self-aggrandising and therefore possessing the power to do otherwise, should it not be without a question to do without so as to do better? Another of which stems from the inadequacy of the platform in presenting thought and coherence as I would like it. Owing to my obsessive natures in this respect, it is frustrating to deal with it all the time. So for those of you who read this will know then, that if my silence has become obvious, it is not without reason. I would then request for you to write to me instead, if you so wish to know how I am. Letters are most welcome, but the instantaneous messages over mobile devices will not be shunned either. This distance is aimed at breaking the attachments formed between my sense of self, time and occupation with the entrapment of social media and its dangers, folly, excessive — not friendships.  

Academic woes: a headache basically

A rut that I have been within in the past couple of days has been with regards to my next essay. This predicament can be attributed to a few things that form my incoherence and hence no sense of direction in which to take for this essay. To provide context, I am researching on Orientalism in the 19th century. My initial idea was to compare and contrast ballet repertoires choreographed during the late 19th century to early 20th century, and their representation of the Orient/ Exotic/ Other through the female body. Ideally, this would create many opportunities for discussion: fear projected in terms of imperialism, or perhaps classism thereby leading to ornamentalism rather than Said’s Orientalism; the male gaze and the female nude as prevailing practices and the Orient is a means of perpetuating that rather than representing anything; using Freud’s analysis on dreams and the erotic to explore if perhaps the sexualisation and sensualisation of the exotic is a deeper desire concealed by the Europeans than necessarily a means of subjugating the Other, for the Other is perhaps merely a means in which to distance such desires from themselves as they would hope to preserve as pristine, godly, restrained. 

But, not everything goes as we intend it to be. There is a sore lack of research on Orientalism in ballet, and a greater cavity in the archival footages of ballet in the past. In part, photography was only gaining momentum in its infancy and the acclaimed  Diaghilev also made sure that no recording of his choreography was permitted. That poses the question: how do you write about ballet if you have yet to see it live for yourself, even if through a screen? I can only read about it, and as with all secondary accounts, they might not be entirely factual; and as with all theatrics, there is a habit of exaggeration in play that I expect no less of an extravagance like ballet. So right now I am left with the ballet-russes of the 20th century, not 19th century — and only one was extensively publicised and studied over (that being Schehezerade, inspired by the Arabian Nights), and perhaps Salome, but that is a biblical tale, not exactly about the Eastern culture at all. I ever thought of doing a cross study of ballet, painting and perhaps poetry or literature, but none quite inspires as much as my initial imperative. 

A part of me also wishes to make study the psychological/ social use of the East to represent sensuality and sexuality during that time. Perhaps as time continues to pass, I will not have the liberty to be choosy about this. Having written all these down, I surprisingly might find a way around this. I shall first delve into the possibility of the latter as my directive and see if there are possibilities for such. It feels like such a huge task because there is so little written about it, which might be an optimistic thing, in terms of originality, yet it also places such immense pressure on validating the arguments. It could go right with this, or very very wrong. I have rambled too much about my homework, which I would assume, not even make much sense to anyone other than myself. But all this is cathartic in a way. Now moving on —

The New Year and Turning 21

It is the doubling of the new year and turning a year older that always somehow leaves me more troubled and reclusive during this period than one would perhaps expect of in the festivity of the new year. This year has proven more weighing than the others, and if you may ask what turning 21 feels like, I think I have an answer compared to any one who thinks there’s not much change. It is only those still amid transitionary states do they feel most deeply what the ‘coming-of-age’ truly entails. Most days I am rattled by the worries of finances, and the ability to manage it properly and more than just adequately. I admit that I have ridiculous savings plans that require me to eat myself but I am confident that they are not impossible. This ridiculous savings plan is a method of future planning because this will be my funding after I graduate and anticipate the few months that I need to fight very crazily hard to stay here. It is almost sickening to think that if I save half of my allowance every month, I would have only saved a year of my tuition fees by the time I graduate. But it also reveals to me how hard I need to make my education worthwhile and my time here more worthwhile than anyone else. I also loathe the financially-conscious me who has to opt out of everything because it just isn’t within my priority nor means to do so. If you read this, I am not asking for sympathies or what not, maybe just the courtesy of not talking about it because it is already on my mind 24/7 and I just don’t want to talk about it further. 

Money is a very real and disgusting problem, but we cannot do away with it, that would require an upheaval of entire economies and world that we have long set in stone for ourselves to relinquish. So as always this still stands: to beat the system is to excel in it, and gain the freedom in which it will allow you the options to stay away from it. I spent New Year’s Eve and countdown vacuuming the house and changing my sheets, making my house clean after two weeks of holiday. It’s the reality that a celebration is momentary and there are more important things to see to — the celebration can perhaps wait until you are in the mood for it. While everyone is planning some big party and joyous thing, I’m just thinking if I should catch that movie cause it would cause money; if I should go for tea as a treat to myself but that would also cost unnecessarily which I can instead use for classes or something else; staying at home alone would seem too sad and sorry; maybe I should take my film camera out for the afternoon and explore London instead. (But I am looking forward to dinner with Lynn that evening.) 

Yesterday, I wrote a list of goals for the year: things I wish to accomplish in this year. It is encouraging and motivating to have that list up on my desk wall. Let’s hope I do stick to realising them. And perhaps I should even do away with using the word ‘hope’ excessively, because it only provides excuses and consolation for when I do not actually accomplish anything. To also reduce the dependency on these words: ‘just’, ‘maybe’, ‘hope’. 

Unemployment; recruitment is a pain

Currently still unemployed. It is disheartening when you can’t even get a temporary job under your school because it’s by a first come first serve basis — and though you think you would be the first when you reply to the email immediately, you’re just that few letters short of time. How shameless can one also get? Or which desperation drives us into. I applied for the same job which rejected my application last October because I really really want to work there. There is no reply and I only think of the worst lately. Next week, I tell myself to grit my teeth and go to a few places to ask if they have any part-time vacancies. I am crossing my fingers I get some good news with that. If I have this job, then I wouldn’t have to worry so much about finances. I also tell myself it is only 4 months since I’ve moved here and I need to give London some time, so time I will take. But recruitment, you really are a pain. 

My thoughts have presently escaped me and I shall pause here till they return, should they ever. School reopens tomorrow and many things await but taking a step at a time. Adulthood is terrifying and burdensome and whoever thought of this vicious cycle is a maniac. (We are worse, for buying into it and living it.)

[crbrickey]

2018 year in review...

Finally, I'm doing my year in review. Might be a week late, but I wanted you guys to save the best for last. You're welcome. Wow! What a roller coaster year. 

I might as well start at the beginning. By the time 2018 rolled around, I was less than 48 hours away from a hospital stay. I was lucky to get out by then, so I had to take my New Years eve easy. I had a great time hanging out with some friends at my house. Once I fully recovered, January and February went pretty well including a trip to Texas for my birthday. it was a great trip because I got to take Ranger with me. Boy, that dog loved car rides. 

Now came March. The roller coaster began. In the beginning of the month, I finally got an appointment to begin the Spinraza treatment. A moment I'd waited 33 years for. But my excitement was soon extinguished. I ended up at the hospital. First I went for pneumonia and was out in 3 days. Only to return 2 days later. This one was really scary. I had spent all day not being able to swallow anything. I couldn’t even swallow my saliva. This had never happened to me. For the first time in a long time, maybe ever- I really thought this was it. Matter of fact, I had my Mom call my siblings so they could all come and say goodbye. Thankfully after a day of TPN, I was able to regain my strength and swallow again. Now I was getting really close to my appointment up in Kansas City for Spinraza It was imperative for me to get discharged in time to make it to Kansas City. Somehow, I did it. But I was really not in any condition to get out- let lone travel. None the less, I made the appointment basically running my bi-pap the entire time. 

Now the next 4 months were the ,longest 4 months of my life. Why you ask? Well, in order to get Spinraza, you have to go through a lot of hoops. Thats what I did these 4 months. Go through every hoop they put in front of me. The entire time never getting back to full strength, which meant I took my bi-pap everywhere I went. Never knowing when I might need it. This really has been the worst part of the year for me. As I haven't been able to do the things I;m use to such as travel to baseball games, go to concerts, even coach my softball team. I did do softball none the less, unfortunately, I missed at least 30% of the games including a game that probably cost us the championship. Yeah, I have a great softball team now and if I hadn’t made Rush miss a game, we probably would’ve been champions. None the less, 2nd is pretty cool and the whole group is back this year so we can go get that championship. (I might be getting a little cocky, but I'm ok with that- I believe in my team).

Finally in July, I got the news of my life. I have been cleared to begin Spinraza. My first dose would be given to me in the middle of August. After I hung up the phone, I had tears in my eyes. I never expected to receive treatments for SMA in my lifetime. Its not a cure but its a step in the right direction. Now before I continue, I do want to take time out to really thank Christi who works with Biogen as a liaison. All her hard work made this all a reality. I could never thank her enough. 

Alright finally August is here. to say I was a nervous wreck would be an understatement. I was excited more than anything but you always have nerves when you're entering an unknown. Would they be able to give me the injection, would it help(I'm really tired of my bi-pap), and would it be painful? If you are lucky enough to receive the injection at KU Med in Kansas City, you have nothing to worry about. Everybody in interventional radiology make up the dream team. A little back ground, the injections are done as a spinal tap. I am not an ordinary human being. My spine is held together by metal rods and wire. Even with all this I am still one bent individual. Not many people could find my spinal cord, let alone stick a needle of that caliber in it. For these Doctors, it is a non-issue. Not to mention it is almost pain free. By the time you add in the nurses and aides who help ease the patients and inform them of everything, they truly are the dream team of the medical field. Not to mention they really do care and being a patient as much as I have been, that means a lot. 

Dose one was great, my only setback was a spina headache that they warned me about, I did as they directed and instantly the headache was gone. Dose 2 had zero setbacks, and I was really seeing the progress. Then came Pneumonia. Like an idiot, I tried to rush it so I wouldn’t miss my third dose. This mistake almost cost me my life. After a day being out of the hospital, I developed my swallowing problem again. I got readmitted and started to receive TPN, but this time they wouldn’t let me out until I had finished my whole course of antibiotics. I agreed with that since I had already missed my injection date, I might as well get healthy. This is wheee I made my fatal flaw. I got lazy and decided to keep receiving TPN instead of getting up and drinking my normal amounts. I found out my body can get too much of a good thing. By day 4 I was sicker than a dog. Day 5 and 6 went by without any improvements. I was tired of being at the hospital so I decided to look into hospice care. Once I found out that if I received hospice, I would no longer get Spinraza, I decided on a different route. I got my nurse to disconnect the TPN, and 6 hours later, I was starting to feel better. The next morning, I had to convince the Doctor to let me out of that hospital without Hospice. Of course, it was an argument but we prevailed. 

Finally, I was feeling better and ready to do another dose. Only problem was-when you miss one dose they take you off the schedule. I was not aware of this rule. So one trip to KC was a waste. But right away, I got to witness again how great this dream team is. By the time we were out of the Kansas City area, I was scheduled for my 3rd and 4th injections. 

As you can tell, there were highs and lows. I am now past my loading doses and am looking forward to my 1st maintenance injection, which should be at the beginning of March. Now I have seen tons of improvements. My drinking has increased by 33%, everyone says I'm easier to understand, and most importantly, my bi-pap use has gotten less. I’m not where I want to be yet, but I feel I'm closer and after another dose or 2 I should be off the bi-pap full time during the day. 

I can’t do a year in review without some sports talk. My Jayhawks made the Final 4 last year, that was a surprise, and they returned a good team this year who right now are having problems but I trust Self to right the ship. My Rangers sucked last year and it looks like they will suck again this year. Hopefully though, this year I can make it down to a couple games. It pains me that last year I lost my streak of 11 straight years of catching at least one Ranger game. And since I've been stuck at home a lot, I picked up Hockey again, go Avs! 

As far as family and friends, nothing really new to report. I’m blessed to have the best support group around me as I could ask for. Everybody helps me out when I need it and lets me fail when I need to. That last part may sound weird but as I grow older and I see more millennials I thank God that my parents let me fail some. It is important to discover the person you are when you are facing adversaries. Cuz, news flash -- life ain’t perfect! If it wasn’t for such a great support system, I would have died in March or September without a doubt. I love you guys for giving me a reason to live. I promise I will push through this adversity (aka: bi-pap usage) and be back stronger than ever and start getting back to life. Casinos- be ready to lose money! 

That was for the most part, my year in a nutshell. Wasn’t a whole lot of excitement, but I will make up for it this year. Now for my New Years resolutions, 1. a kinder gentler Casey, I have been told I run people off. So Im working on it. 2. More blogs, but with this will come basically editorials. My life isn’t interesting so if I'm going to write, it will be about the world around us. Crap, that might hurt resolution #1. 3. Eat solid foods again. I’m not there yet, but I know I will get there. Watch out cake-- you’re going down (my throat). 

My next blog will be next week and it might be a little controversial so hope everybody enjoyed this and hope I don’t lose any readers.