#youre going to throw those comments around and think its not going to rebound back to your muslim friends

[fire-bay]

Wow islamaphobia and just general bigotry is rampant under most posts focusing the Ao3 situation

Do people even have any ounce of empathy or shame

Also, to not immediately go into a knee-jerk reaction and believe everything, when the very site administrators are saying to take things with a grain of salt

#youre going to throw those comments around and think its not going to rebound back to your muslim friends #god damn

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 33

Sorry this got delayed for longer than expected. I had a lot of things hit me like a truck (and distractions). Hopefully you all enjoy this. Please comment your thoughts on the chapter. And if you really liked it, Reblog it. Thats the best way to get others to see it.

(Master Post)

_______________________________________________________________________

Nathalie cautiously walked into the school, careful to not stand out. She needed to be quick and quiet, she didn’t know how many akuma were lurking in the building. Hawkmoth has akumatized a good chunk of the student body at this school, so expecting at least a dozen within such a short time frame wouldn’t be out of the question. She was relieved that the akuma alert hasn't gone off, which means no one has caught on yet.

The assistant moved down the hall, stopping once she noticed two akuma heading down the hall. One she recognized as the akuma dark owl, and the other as Lady wifi. Both akuma wearing masks that covered their faces. It was clearly the handiwork of Masquerade. She quickly moved into the nearest room to hide.

“That was close.” Nathalie whispered.

“What was?” a voice from behind her called out. Causing the on edge assistant to jump.

She looked to see it was not an akuma, but an adult with a perplexed expression.

“Nothing, what room is this?”

“This is the nurse’s office, I’m Nurse Angela. How can I help you?”

Nathalie took a sigh of relief. Seems that the nurse hasn’t noticed the akumatized individuals in the hall. Which means that no one has figured out there are akuma active.

“I am fine, I simply stepped into the wrong room.” Nathalie eased herself. “Could you tell me which way Ms. Bustier’s classroom is?”

“Oh its down the hall, make a left and it’s the last classroom on the...”

“Nurse! My ice pack melted!”

The nurse took a calming sigh.

“One moment ma’am. I have a student in here.”

Angela quickly moved to fetch more ice for her patient to help her out.

“Chloé?” Nathalie spoke aloud, recognizing the voice.

Nathalie moved into the room and took notice of the mayor’s daughter watch the nurse impatiently as she waited for a fresh icepack.

“Wait, your Gabriel Agreste’s assistant. Natasha.”

“Nathalie.” The assistant corrected, clearly annoyed.

“Why are you here? Does Adrien have some photoshoot or something?”

“Or something.  Now why are you in here?”

The question struck a nerve with the blonde, causing her annoyance to turn into anger.

“Better question, how could you allow Adrien to date that loser!?”

Nathalie blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“She is going to bring down the Gabriel brand. That nobody has no right to be dating Adrien. Does his father know about this?”

Nathalie felt a twinge of annoyance. But kept it in. She remembered the akuma that were out in the hallway. She would hate to have them run in here just from the commotion.

“I think you should keep it down. This is not an issue that concerns you.”

“Doesn’t concern me?! I am Adrien’s childhood friend. You bet your poor dye job it concerns me!”

“I must insist you be quiet.” Nathalie repeats. “This is not the time or the place for such meaningless complaints.”

“Like I am going to listen to Gabriel Agreste’s rebound chick.”

That caused Nathalie to snap.

“Listen here you spoiled brat! There are akuma running the halls and I am trying to find Adrien to get him out of here before things get worse. If you don’t shut your mouth in the next two seconds. I will throw you out there and let them tear you apart!”

Chloé felt her eyes go wide at the out of nowhere outburst. It took her a second to process what just happened. Did she really get told off by this nobody?

“You can’t just…”

Nathalie suddenly fell to the floor. She barely used her hands to catch herself.

“S***, not now.” She mumbled over gasping breathes. Her body was failing on her again. She did not need this of all times. She felt her consciousness fade.

The nurse turned around once she heard the sudden thud.

“Oh dear.”

She rushed to the collapsed woman’s side and helped her up.

“Chloé. Help me get her onto the bed.”

“You want me to…”

“This is not the time for questions! Help me get her on the bed now!” Angela commanded.

Chloé’s protests were snuffed out by the nurse and she moved to help get the woman on the bed.

The nurse quickly checked her for a pulse. Thankfully she had one.

“Okay, she has a pulse. She is breathing, but her body just collapsed. A fainting spell?”

Angela started checking the assistant to make sure there was nothing else wrong.

Chloé watched as the nurse examined Nathalie. Her previous anger fading as she sees the woman that just snapped at her just drop.

“Okay… seems that it is over exhaustion. It’s not uncommon in people who work long hours with demanding jobs. But I have never seen a case like this. I can’t put my finger on it, but there might be another medical issue involved in this. When she wakes up, she should get checked into a hospital for a deeper dive into whatever she has.” Angela explained.

“So… she will be alright?”

“Well she is exhausted. She will need to rest for a bit.”

“Well at least she didn’t die. I can still be mad at her for yelling at me because there is an akuma and junk here.”

“Well you shouldn’t hold a… did you just say there is an akuma?”

“That’s what she was yelling at me about before. Weren’t you listening?”

Angela felt herself go pale.

“Oh that is not good at all. We need to alert the authorities.”

Chloé picked up her phone and started texting.

“Don’t you think you should use that to call the cops.”

“Im texting my dad. He will have the cops here faster.”

Angela remembered that the annoying spoiled blonde in front of her was the mayor’s daughter and for the first time, was happy that the girl was here.

_______________________________________________________________________

For what is a teen, but a pile of hormones and insecurities.

Masquerade delighted as she watched her classmates stare at her. They all were trying so hard to be strong, but she could feel their emotions, they were afraid. She knew that taking the most emotionally secure one in the group would rattle them..

She noticed the teens rushing to their pockets to get their phones.

Masquerade touched the cellphone charm on her bracelet and all of the phones started showing they had no signal.

“Nice try, but no calling for help.” Masquerade commented.

Even the chill Nino couldn’t maintain a steady calm in front of her with that little display. She now removed any chance of calling for help or setting off that akuma alert system. Did she have access to other powers? What kind of monster did Hawkmoth turn her into?

“I’ll save you for last Nino. I want you to watch closely.” She flipped her hair, taunting the cap wearing teen.

The masked theme akuma smiled as she moved her hand, as if deciding on who would turn next.

“Now we know who will be last, but who will be next?” Masquerade asked, watching as her bracelet was glowing. The class was a gold mine of akumas. It was not a matter of how, it was a matter of which one.

“You don’t have to do this Lila.” A soft higher pitched voice pleaded.

The class turned their attention the short haired blond with a fondness for pink.

“Rose…” Juleka spoke up in worry.

Masquerade focused her attention on Rose.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“We know you are hurting. We know that you lied to us and did some nasty things… but that doesn’t have to define you!”

Masquerade found herself a bit surprised at the statement.

“If you are willing to stop all of this, we can help you. We can work through all of the things you’ve done. If we can throw a party for Chloé, we can certainly give you another chance.”

Rose stuck out her hand, a soft smile on her face.

Masquerade took a moment to process before speaking.

“Wow… I had no idea you felt this way.”

Rose walked forward.

“See Lila, we can all get along if…”

“You’re so incredibly depressing.”

Rose stopped.

Masquerade’s mouth contorted to a twisted glee. Her charm bracelet glowing brightly as she held her hand up to Rose.

“You always force a smile even when things are downright miserable. You’re terrified of being sad, so you paint this image of a fantasy land filled with stuffed animals and storybook characters. You realize all of the awful things around you yet you simply push it back, push it away as if it can’t harm you if you don’t acknowledge it. You can’t even acknowledge the emotional problems and insecurities of the people you care about because you know you can’t help them even if you did address them, so you give them some encouraging saccharine speech about pushing through, because that’s all you can really do. I have never seen anyone so deep in denial. One day you will wake up and realize that all of that delusional thinking will have pushed everyone away from you as you sit in plushy made prison of your own design.”

Rose felt her lip quiver.

“N-No. That isn’t true. I can …” Rose stumbled over her words.

But before she could say anymore, a mask flung onto her face and Rose shifted into Princess Fragrance, the green skinned perfume super villainess.

“Rose! No!” Juleka cried out.

Masquerade grinned as a perfume bottle charm now adorned her bracelet.

Juleka tried to get the mask off of Rose, but the newly made akuma pushed her aside and jumped to her master’s side.

“Oh, poor Juleka. Don’t worry. I’ll have you join her.”

Masquerade pointed her hand at Juleka.

“Oh wow, social anxiety and a fear of being forgotten. How original. Is that why you dye your hair purple and wear those gaudy clothes? You want to stand out so that you don’t get dismissed like the wallflower you are? Your bad luck with photos really puts a damper on your dreams of modeling. But that’s probably for the best, considering you are constantly overwhelmed. You don’t have the guts to do anything you want, so you just do your best to keep quiet and pray people will still notice and care about you.”

Juleka felt her anger shift to sorrow as she tried to speak up, but sure enough. Masquerade sends another mask out and it makes contact with Juleka.

The purple haired teen shifts into the image replicating akuma, Reflekta. Who after changing moved next to Princess Fragrance. A compact mirror charm appears on Masquerade’s bracelet.

The class couldn’t help but feel the despair in the room. The large drummer tried to keep his small girlfriend behind him as a means to protect her, but unfortunately, Masquerade noticed.

“Oh Ivan, sweet misunderstood Ivan.” Masquerade taunted. “You really think I don’t see what you are trying to do.”

Ivan kept his eyes focused.

“You aren’t turning me into one of your monsters. You already turned my bandmates into them, you aren’t turning me!”

The akuma laughed.

“Monster? I don’t need to turn you into an akuma to do that. The rest of the world already sees you as one.”

Ivan felt a pang in his heart.

“No… no they don’t.”

“Even your own girlfriend is scared of you. You’re a big brute that is loud and bumbling. Ever since your growth spurt, you could see everyone look at you differently, like you were some kind of large freak. But what’s worse is that you’re afraid that everyone else is right. That you a large rage filled monster, undeserving of love.”

“Don’t listen to her. She is lying to you.” Myléne pleaded as she tried to pull her boyfriend out of the quicksand trap of emotion that the akuma was setting up.

“I am not a monster.” Ivan spoke, more to himself than to masquerade.

The akuma capitalized on that moment of weakness and a mask made its way to Ivan, transforming him into his stone giant akuma form, Stoneheart.

Myléne looked in horror of her akumatized boyfriend and took a few steps back. Her fear of remembering this form taking hold.

“Oh, that works too.”

Masquerade flings a mask at Myléne, transforming her into her more monstrous akuma form, Horrificator.

“I was planning on playing on her fears about how she is afraid to face the real world and her insecurities about losing Ivan, but that worked better.”

The two new akuma mindlessly made their way to Masquerade’s side. A piece of paper and a button charm appeared on Masquerade’s bracelet.

The joy the akuma attained from watching her classmates squirm was unnerving. And it was only going to continue.

_______________________________________________________________________

“So, you are certain you left it there Kagami?” a woman with a cane asked sternly.

“Yes mother, I remember I left my text book in the locker room during fencing practice. I was studying between breaks.” Kagami answered. She felt a bit ashamed she had misplaced her book. But was relieved her mother was fine with giving her a ride there to get it. Even if it meant she was late to her lessons.

“This is not an excuse to see anyone, is it?” Her mother questioned.

“No mother, I will be in and out quickly.”

“Very well. I need to make a quick stop at the bank. So be sure to be outside waiting when I come back.”

“Yes mother.”

Kagami got out of the car and the car drove off.

“Well, I could stop by to say hello to my friends if I am quick with getting my book.” Kagami smiled a bit as she was about to make her way into Collège Françoise Dupont.

But before she did, she heard the sound of a bike approaching, she turned to see the cyclist stop short of her.

“Made it.” He said with relief as he took off his helmet to reveal familiar blue dyed hair.

“Luka?”

The cyclist looked and noticed his new fencer friend.

“Kagami? What brings you here? I thought you didn’t go to this school.”

“I don’t, I come here for fencing practice, I left a textbook here and was planning on retrieving it. You don’t go to this school either. So what brings you here?”

“My little sis grabbed the wrong lunch bag, then texted something about an akuma being in the school. I wasn't able to reach her after that. I plan on getting her out and letting the heroes handle the akuma.”

Kagami blinked.

“There is an akuma?”

“Apparently.”

The fencer smiled.

“Alright, let’s get in and try to evacuate everyone. Then I can grab my book.”

Luka looked at the determined girl and smiled. He didn’t even say he would help her. But he knew he would.

“So, what’s the plan?”

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Adrien stared down the Volpina duplicate. He was not going to let it pass him and get to Marinette. He realizes that if he had been the one to run off, he would have been able to transform quick. If this didn’t work out, Ladybug might have to take on Lila solo, and that was something he was worried about. If Ladybug is on her own and she gets overwhelmed, who would be able to protect Paris? He needed to figure a way to give this Faux Fox the slip and fast.

“It would have been better if I snagged both of you, but master will be more than happy with your capture.” The sentimonster smiled as it moved to grab him.

The blond jumped back, but the difference in speed was far too great for him to overcome. And he was quickly pinned against a wall. The sentimonster shifted forms, looking similar to the owl akuma that Adrien was familiar with.

“What the…”

“I am not bound to one form. I can shift my form and access to any akuma’s power set that my master has under her control.”

Adrien realized he was far outmatched. If it came to it, he would need to transform. He wished there was some way out of this mess.

But as if the heavens above heard him, a yo-yo wrapped around the waist of the buff owl.

“What the ...”

The sudden pull from the yo-yo made the sentimonster lose it’s grip on Adrien and get flung to the other wall, dazing it.

“Looks like I made it just in time.” A spotted heroine stated with confidence.

“Ladybug!” Adrien called out in relief.

Ladybug rushed to his side.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m a lot better now.”

Ladybug helped the teen up from the ground.

“Lets’ get you somewhere safe first, handsome boy.”

The blond felt his cheeks turn red at the comment.

The sentimonster managed to get back up, it shifted forms, to a smaller form. One that made ladybug experience a chill go down her spine as she saw the roller blades and familiar helmet.

“Timebreaker… We need to hurry!”

Ladybug started rushing with the teen. With the speed of the akuma, she knew Adrien wouldn’t be fast enough to avoid it on his own. So, she quickly picked him up in her arms as they fled.

“Timebreaker? But isn’t that what Alix turned into when she was akumatized.” Adrien inquired as Ladybug ran down the hallway.

“It means that things are getting a lot more dangerous.” Ladybug answered.  She knew that timebreaker appearing could only mean that Lila has made her way to the classroom, and this was going to be one of the toughest akuma battles yet. She needed to get Adrien to safety and then make her way to the classroom, hopefully save her classmates before they were all turned into her masked servants.

She made a quick movement into the bathroom. Standing at the door, prepared to fight the akuma if it noticed their quick duck into the washroom.

Ladybug listened closely as she heard the sound of skates roll up to the door. Her eyes went wide as she realized the it figured it out.

“You really think you can hide from me!”

The Timebreaker imposter kicked in the door ready to attack, only to see no one was in the room.

“Like I said….”

“You!” Kicked the first stall door open.

“CANT!” The second stall was kicked open.

“HIDE!”  The last one was open, and all of them were empty.

The sentimonster growled in frustration.

“Seems I was mistaken.” The sentimonster grumbles, skating off to find the two.

As the door closes, Ladybug and Adrien sigh in relief. They had taken to hiding over the small statured sentimonster’s line of sight. Ladybug;s yo-yo making for a secure web to hold them up.

Ladybug undid the secure snare and lowered them both to the floor.

“Thanks for the save Ladybug.” The blond smiled. His face a bit red being so close to Ladybug.

‘Easy there Adrien! Remember who you are dating now!’ He mentally told himself.

“N-no problem.” Ladybug smiled sweetly. “Now, you stay hidden and I will take care of this crazy shapeshifter.

“Wait Ladybug!”

Ladybug paused.

“Yes? Is there something…”

“My girlfriend is out there. Well I mean… dating since we didn’t officially say girlfriend and… Look She is out there and that akuma thing is also after her.”

Ladybug’s eyes went wide at that statement.

He called me his girlfriend! Inner marinette screamed. Inside her head, but Ladybug kept her face from showing it. Though a small smile was growing despite herself.

“So the akuma is targeting someone else? Why wasn’t she with you?”

“She went to get help, I was trying to hold off the akuma so she could escape. The akuma was more focused on me thankfully, and you showed up just in time.”

“Oh? And who is the Lucky girl?” Ladybug questioned, a bit bubbly but doing her best to hide it.

“Her name is Marinette, she is around your height and she has these cute …”

“No need for more description, I know her. Well, she is a cute one. Aren’t you lucky?” Ladybug teased a bit.

“I really am.” He smiled sweetly. He remembers that Ladybug did pick Marinette to be a temporary hero, so she should know who she is. Though he isn’t supposed to know that.

Ladybug put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your ‘girlfriend’ is safe. I’ll also be sure to tell her you were worried as well. She will be happy to hear that.”

Adrien felt himself in a bit of a bizarre situation, was ladybug helping him by being a wingwoman for him? He couldn’t help but find it a mix of ironic and funny.

Ladybug rushed out of the bathroom, realizing that chat noir was rubbing off on her a bit, teasing Adrien like that.

“He called me his girlfriend.” She smiled as she thought this to herself. Though she knew the task at hand was important and would dwell on this happiness much later.

Adrien watched as she ran off, feeling a bit flustered.

“Really needed to let her know you were off the market now.” A voice from his pocket teased.

“I panicked.” Adrien felt his face flush.

“Seemed Ladybug was happy for you. That’s good.” The cat kwami popped out of his pocket. Hiding the fact, he knew a lot more than he let on.

“We do have more important things to worry about. We have an akuma and sentimonster to stop. “

Adrien punched his fist out.

“Plagg. Claws out!”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Masquerade laughed, loving how she was turning everything back on her classmates.

When something smacked into her head.

“Ugh!” She grunted as she grabbed the metal object that flung into her.

“What the hell?!” Masquerade’s eyes focused to see it was Max’s ai companion, Markov that head-butted her.

“Your actions have far exceeded what is acceptable.” The robot responded.

“Markov get away from her. She will akumatize you!” Max called out in worry.

“Akumatize the toaster? How could I akumatize…” Masquerade muttered until she noticed her bracelet glowing.

“Oh, you have got to be f***ing kidding me. You akumatized a sentient rice cooker but not Marinette?! The f*** hawkmoth!?”

“I will have you know that I am an advanced artificial intelligence.”

“And you despise that.” Masquerade points out.

“Quite the contrary, I find my intellect exhilarating.”

“But you already calculated it, the two logical conclusions. That you will either become obsolete and be tossed out for a newer model, or you will advance and grow until you outlive Max.”

Markov paused. He could not come up with a response. The robot felt stumped byt the statement.

“Too easy.”

“Markov!’ Max cried out as a mask landed over his visual face plate. Shifting him into his angry red coated akuma form, Robostus.

Max moved to get to his robot. But Kim held him back.

“It’s too late man.”

Max growled at the akuma.

“Damn it Lila, why are you doing this? You must know that Ladybug and Chat noir will arrive ready to stop you. The chances of you beating them are 0%.”

Masquerade lifted her hand as her bracelet began glowing again.

“Oh. smarty pants Max, the one with all the formulas and the data. You have to be the smartest one in the room or else you have nothing.”

“I know what you are trying to do. It won’t work.”

“Out of everyone here, you have the biggest inferiority complex. Your need to be the best at what your ‘good’ at. Robotics, video games, data analysis, and of course, calculations. You need to show to everyone how smart and skilled you are, because the moment you don’t, they realize there is no personality underneath.”

Max tried to focus on not letting the words get to him, but Masquerade knew exactly what to say to cut him down.

“Go on Max, tell them how to ‘Beat’ my power. Or do you not know?”

Max felt his lip quiver, he couldn’t stay strong. He didn’t know how to beat it. He could feel the horror of not knowing slip into his mind. She had nailed his insecurities like an expert marksman.

“I thought so.”

A mask flew and smacked onto Max’s face. He dropped to the floor only to get up in a black and green spandex suit, His akumatized form, The Gamer.

A game controller charm appeared on her bracelet.

A sudden squeak caught her attention.

Masquerade turned her head to see an orange haired girl trying to sneak away.

“Sabrina, I had forgotten you were here. Just like everyone else usually does.”

Masquerade was about to really lay into her, but a book out of nowhere smacked her in the face.

It was the athletic dare maker himself, Kim.

“I am done sitting around and letting you turn everyone into masked zombies.” Kim exclaimed.

Nino felt himself zone back in as Kim called it out. Now was not the time to lose his head. He needed to focus. Masquerade didn’t mention Adrien, so maybe his best bro was still out there. Maybe they can get to the heroes and have them fix this. But first, he needed to escape.

“Kim’s right. We won’t let you turn anyone else anymore. Sabrina get help!” Nino exclaimed.

“Like she is going to… HEY!”

A waste basket covered the villainess as she stumbled back, with the basket stuck to her head. While she had been too busy gloating, she had failed to notice the tomato haired artist sneak behind her and the mindless akuma line up. He had slammed it on as hard as he could to ensure it was difficult to remove.

“Let’s Go!” Nino announced as the rest of the class rushed to the door. Time breaker being the only one actively ordered prepared to stop them.

“Don’t let her touch you.” Sabrina spoke as they tried to figure.

Kim grabbed a chair and used it like a make shift battering ram in order to keep Timebreaker at a distance, but the akuma reacted quickly by pulling the chair away and kicking the teen in the gut with her roller blade. Sending him flying back into the other teens.

“Ugh! That really was gross!” Masquerade retched as she pulled the waste bucket off her head.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your little escape attempt. Because you won’t get another chance.”

Masquerade pointed at Kim.

“Since you started this little thing. I will change you next.”

Kim looked at the Akuma with a smile.

“Good luck with that. You don’t have anything that could make me feel gloomy.”

Masquerade’s bracelet started glowing again. She was clearly ready to speak, but stopped herself.

“… Wait.. THAT’s your biggest insecurity?”

“I don’t have an insecurity.”

“You are afraid everyone will realize you’re not smart.”

“What? No, I am not. I am plenty smart. I watch the Alternate Truth all the time.”

“Everyone already knows you’re an idiot.”

Kim looked at the akuma with shock.

“That’s not true! People do think I’m smart. Chloé has called me ‘Genius’ multiple times.”

Masquerade didn’t know how to respond to this.

“I… do you not know what sarcasm is?”

“Of course, I do.” Kim lied.

“Just … just wear the mask you moron.”

Masquerade sends a mask to attach to Kim.

The swimmer did his best to resist but felt himself succumb to the mask and become the dark winged akuma, Dark Cupid. He joined the rest of the akuma in the lineup, and a bow and arrow charm appeared on Masquerade’s charm bracelet.

“I actually feel dumber because of those last few minutes. Okay next one.”

Masquerade points at the Artist.

“Let’s bring the mood back with you Nathaniel, what is your biggest insecurity?”

“Listen Lila, there is still a chance to stop what you’re doing.”

“You’re afraid of opening yourself up to others. That’s the reason you didn’t want to join Soulmate searcher despite Marc’s insistence. You were afraid of putting out all that information on yourself and seeing that you and Marc aren’t meant for each other. You can only express yourself with art. And you know that it’s only a matter of time before he realizes your issues and leaves.”

Nathaniel wanted to dispute the statement, but felt his words die in his mouth.

“Such a pity Nathaniel, I’ll make sure to go after him once we are done here.”

“No! Don’t you…”

Nathaniel tried to say more, but a mask latching onto his face interrupted him.

The artist transformed into his heroic yet villainess akuma form, Evillustrator. Just like the others, the recent akuma joined the line.

A tablet pen charm appeared on Masquerade’s bracelet.

“And next up is Sabrina. I was interrupted earlier. But don’t worry. I have everything I need to get you.”

Sabrina tried to put on a brave face and covering her ears.

“Oh, you think It won’t work if you cant hear me.”

Masquerade’s bracelet glows.

“You don’t get it Sabrina, I am not just saying mean words, I am reading your greatest insecurities. And I am projecting them out.”

Sabrina could hear Masquerade’s words, as if they were in her mind. She couldn’t escape them. Her hands dropped.

“Very good. You learned how futile it is. It’s rare that you have someone’s attention like this. You always never stood out much, but you never minded that, your biggest insecurity is that no one will want to spend time with you. That’s why even with Chloé being mean and nasty, you like the fact that someone is willing to talk to you. You would accept humiliation and embarrassment over being alone. It’s truly pathetic.”

Sabrina felt tear stream down her face.

“Sabrina don’t let her get to you…”

“Im sorry. I don’t want to be alone.”

The mask flew onto Sabrina’s face. But something happened. She wasn’t changing right away.

“What’s this?” Masquerade commented.

“It seems you have more than one akumatizable form? Alya had something similar, but I was ‘missing something’ to access the other one so I didn’t bother with that. But this is different.”

Masquerade felt a malicious glee take hold.

“Why not give you both.”

Nino watched as the masked Sabrina shifted into a costume that looked familiar to him. The power stealing Miracular.

But suddenly, she vanished from his sight. Only to then appear with the other akuma.

“Invisibility and power stealing. Sabrina you maybe my favorite servant yet.” Masquerade exclaimed. Two charms appeared on Masquerade’s bracelet, vanishing cream and a tonfa.

Nino took a look at the line up of akuma.

“Dude… this is so not cool.”

Masquerade started to walk towards the DJ with a confident stride, stopping short, looking down at him. An aura of malice emanating from her presence.

“Don’t worry Nino. You’ll be joining them.”

_______________________________________________________________________

(End of Chapter)

So all the pieces are coming together. Will Nathalie be okay in a school filled with akuma? Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to fight the army of akumatized classmates that Masquerade has been building? Will Kagami be able to get her text book. Will Kim learn that everyone loves him because he is a himbo? Find out by staying tuned. 

Thanks for reading and be sure to comment if you want to see the next part. I am an author and live off validation.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #soulmate survey #ml au #soulmate searcher #miraculous fanficiton #ladrien #adrinette #miraculous #masquerade #masquerade akuma #adrien agreste #nathalie sancoeur #chloé bourgeois #ladybug #chat noir #max kante #kim le chien #sabrina raincomprix #nathaniel kurtzberg #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #julrose #Ivan bruel #mylene haprele #angst #fluff #drama #ml fics

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Part XIII - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers

Maybe the lyrics and the melodies would leave her feeling just as confused as I did in New York when she disappeared in the middle of the night.

Maybe the pictures I drew in the songs would leave her feeling as empty as I was that winter. I could only hope.

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read parts 1 - 12 here

AN: Thanks so much for reading!!!! So interested to hear your thoughts on what is going to transpire with Harry and Margot. If you like my work, please REBLOG because where I come from, sharing is caring. 

THEN - Day 1534

I knew I needed to get out of my parent’s house. If it weren’t for the fact that I was 21 and my social life was minimal, I might not feel so strongly about it. 

But seeing as Ben and Sara were home from college and meeting up with friends from high school--it got me thinking that maybe I didn’t have enough of a social circle. 

Coming home from Tennessee made me realize that my social circle mostly existed of people who worked for me in one way or another--throw my boyfriend, his band, and the people who worked for them into the mix and I felt pretty fulfilled.

But suddenly, I was back in California for 12 months of minimal interaction with people outside of my immediate family and Sinead. I was lonely. I was bored. And I didn’t really know what to do about it. 

Which is why, a whole year after I left Harry in New York, I somehow talked Maya into playing basketball with me in the driveway. 

“Your free throw sucks,” she said--holding the basketball in the air before throwing it in my direction. Maya’s senior season was about to end--so she was open to embarrassing me for only our mom and Pete to see. 

I shot the ball again and watched as it missed the hoop entirely--Maya didn’t even make an attempt to get my rebound. “Yeah, well--not all of us are high school basketball stars.”

She rolled her eyes--giving me a hard time in jest. “Not all of us left high school to go on tour.”

“Touché,” I said, dodging the ball that she passed back to me--this time with more force and speed. I reached a hand out to stop it, keeping my body a safe distance in case it developed a mind of its own. 

“How do you feel today?”

Her words seemed nonchalant, but I knew her question was loaded. What she really meant was are you a mess inside on the one year anniversary of your life ceasing to exist? She walked towards the hoop in our driveway, reaching for her water bottle as I smoothed out the messy hair that came loose from my ponytail. 

I shrugged my shoulders, wishing that the sunset didn’t remind me of him. 

“Fine,” I said. 

“Okay and now for your truthful answer,” Maya prompted, gaining a laugh from me as I walked to meet her by the grass.

I thought of Maya on the basketball court--her high school’s female version of Troy Bolton. I’d been dragged along to plenty of her basketball games and Ben’s soccer games--my mom seemed just as excited to watch Maya rule the court as she did to see me fill up the Rose Bowl. 

“I just wonder what he’s doing.”

She took another swig of water and then handed it to me. “Would you ever reach out?”

I let out a sarcastic laugh after I sipped. “And say what? I miss you--I shouldn’t have left you--I  suck?”

Maya kept her eyes on me--her silence was her answer: yes. I could say that if I wanted to. 

I groaned and walked back to my place on the court, watching as she bounced the ball twice before passing it to me. “I’m sure he wonders what you’re doing, too. You pretty much fell off the face of the earth.”

I tried to shoot again, the sound of the ball on the rim echoed off of the trees that separated our house from the Toluca Lake neighborhood. “I didn’t fall off the face of the earth.”

“You literally finished tour, went to rehab, came home, and haven’t posted anything on social media. No music, no interviews. People at school used to ask if me you were dead.”

I rolled my eyes, watching as she shot the ball from the box, a gust of wind blew through our private yard. 

When I didn’t respond, she laughed. “I’m just saying. He--of all people--is probably the most curious about what you’re up to.”

“I’m sure he thinks about it--,” I paused, “in between his fantasies of murdering me.”

“You’re dramatic,” she waved me off. “He probably wants to call you. I bet he’s a mess today.”

“You don’t know that. He was a shell of himself during your decline.”

My decline. I rolled my eyes. 

That was the thing about Maya--she was thoughtful and introspective and observant, and most importantly, ridiculously mature for a 17 year-old. She knew Harry well--even if she met him for the first time when she was just thirteen. 

She shot the ball and then did it again--a three pointer. She tossed it to me and I didn’t even catch it--reaching for it so hard that I nearly lost my footing. “What was your impression of that time?” I brought my hand up to shield my eyes from the setting sun--I’d never really asked her what it was like for her.

“Of your decline?”

“Yes,” I made a face. “My decline.”

She put a hand on her hip and let out a sigh. “You were a mess. It was obvious to everyone--Harry was, like, I don’t know--a chicken with his head cut off.”

I laughed at the last part a little--the image playing through my head as I went to retrieve the ball that had bounced past me. 

“I don’t know why he didn’t just address it more directly,” she commented, her words almost more to herself than to me. 

I felt the need to defend him for some reason. “I mean--he did address it,” I said. “I just lied to him a lot.”

“He gave up too easily, though. He knew you weren’t okay and he should have pressed you harder.”

“I didn’t see you pressing me harder.”

“I’m your little sister. I could tell you the house was on fire and you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Partially true. She held out her hands as if to summon the ball from me. I tossed it to her and watched as she dribbled it a few times and then shot it, the soft sound of the nylon net against the ball as she turned to look at me again. “I’m right.”

“He did give up too easily--I agree with that. But I think he did the best he could.”

It felt strange to say it--it  felt weird to talk about him as if I weren’t mad and as if I wasn’t upset that he didn’t call. It’d been a whole year--and tonight, despite the fact that it was November, felt eerily similar to the driveway scene I’d replayed in my head a thousand times. 

We’d sat on the grass only a few feet away, our hands brushing against each other when we stood to have dinner. He seemed to watch me with a smirk and something about him made me feel like I didn’t have to try so hard. 

I didn’t have to be Margot Jones 24/7. I could just be. 

So maybe that’s why I defended him. Maybe it was because out of all the things that had happened between us--all the things we can’t ignore--making me fall in love was my favorite. 

NOW - Day 1729

Sinead sat at the counter while I pushed around scrambled eggs in a frying pan that my mom bought for me when I moved in. 

It was late morning--nearly 11am when Sinead showed up--but she said she had good news when I opened the door with narrowed eyes. She’d been showing up unannounced more and more often, and now that I wasn’t as miserable and grouchy as I’d once been, I think she enjoyed my company a little more. 

“So--it just says they’d love to meet. They don’t even mention the old contract or anything like that. Just that they would talk about it.”

I let my shoulders slump as steam floated up above my head. “I dunno--that makes it all real.”

“You’re already recording it,” Sinead said simply, her tone more serious than I would have liked. 

I turned around to face her, letting my hands rest on the granite behind me. “Sinead--it’s pretty laissez faire right now. We’ve done, like, three songs. I’d hardly call it an album. Who even knows if they’ll go together.”

“The songs?”

“Yeah,” I turned back around, unable to ignore the thoughts of Harry in my head. “They’re all old, so far. Half old, at least. I haven’t written a lot of new stuff. They’re all just things I was sitting on. And they’re really different from anything I’ve put out before. Less pop and more--indie, I guess.”

She looked up from her phone for the first time and seemed to soften her expression. “I just think that you’re most you when you’re creating. You’ve been bored lately.”

“I was locked up and went to therapy a shit ton,” I defended my empty schedule. “I needed a second.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad,” she stood from her stool and walked towards the Keurig. “I’m just saying that I think you’re ready. Even if you’re afraid.”

She didn’t press me any further. In fact, she was quiet until I sat beside her on the deck and forked a bite of food into my mouth. 

“Does Harry know you’re recording?”

I nodded, my eyes hidden behind my sunglasses as I watched a few surfers try to catch a wave. “We haven’t spoken in more detail than that, though.”

“Well, should I tell John you’re down to meet or no? If it’s too soon it’s too soon, but I don’t think he’ll pressure you. He knows what happened.”

What happened. I rolled my eyes a bit--thankful she couldn’t see them beneath the shaded glass. What happened is I was burnt out. I was working more hours a week at 17 than most people do in mid-life. Being me was a constant job and I had a boyfriend who was regularly on the other side of the planet singing love songs to stadiums of girls who wished I didn’t exist. 

I’d release an album and piss people off for being too honest. Tone it back and I was called too mysterious. I couldn’t please everyone, so I stopped trying. Forgive me for losing my shit.

“I’ll go,” I said with a lift of my shoulders to show my lack of emotional attachment--however fake it was. “But we can’t tell Harry.”

Sinead thought on that for a second--licked her lips--and then smiled. “Okay.”

THEN - Day 1308

There were nights when the thought of Margot didn’t seem to swirl in my head. Nights when the alcohol was plenty and the music was loud and laughter seemed to fill the air. Those nights were what I lived for--or, they were what I needed to live. 

I wasn’t thrilled with the way everyone seemed to settle in on the couch when we returned from a restaurant downtown. Mitch’s eyes were looking more sleepy with every second and Jeffrey seemed glued to his phone.

“C’mon guys,” I said, clapping my hands together as I made a move towards the kitchen. “Who needs a drink?”

I scanned the room--none of them seemed to flinch at that. Out of the eight people in front of me, Mitch was the only one who even looked up at the sound of my voice. 

“Mitchell? Fancy some rum?”

“Nah, man,” he shook his head, standing from the couch with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m tired. I’m just gonna head upstairs.”

I frowned at that--now letting my eyes sweep back to the rest of them. “What’s the deal? The night is young! Why are we all acting like old ladies?”

Jeffrey looked up at this, clearing his throat as he adjusted on the couch. “Harry, man, we’re tired. We’ve partied the last three nights after working all day. Let’s just have a quiet night in.”

My stomach seemed to sink at his words. A twinge of anger passed through my chest and I felt my eyebrows meet in the middle of my forehead. “We don’t need a quiet night, I don’t need a quiet night.”

Mitch seemed to slip up the staircase--a few of the others following behind without any words. 

“I thought we came here to have fun,” I called after them, hearing my voice echoing off the walls of the stairs and the foyer, following them up the steps to the second floor. “Work hard, play hard, right?”

“Harry,” Jeffrey was now at the counter, standing in front of me with his mouth set in a thin line. “Are you alright, man? D’ya wanna talk?”

I let out an angry noise before dropping his eye contact, my hands coming to rest on the cool granite of the counter. “Talk about what, Jeffrey? Talk about the fact that I got fucking dumped and it’s been a few months and I’m not over it? Or about the fact that every fucking song we’ve written so far is about her and her emotional fucking baggage?”

He seemed to wince at my swearing--or maybe it was the fact that my eyes were now filled with tears. 

“You want to talk about that?” I pressured, watching as he let out a sigh and shook his head. 

“You’re writing songs about her because you’re feeling, man. You’re feeling a lot right now and you’re processing it. I promise it won’t feel this way forever.”

I appreciated his attempt at soothing me, but it felt like the only thing that would work was a shot glass filled with the rum that sat beside my hands on the counter. “Feels that way.”

He nodded. “I know. But--just rest and chill for a while. We can’t drink every night. We can’t party every single night. Go upstairs and sleep and channel this energy into making a good fucking album to show her what she’s missing.”

I laughed a bit at that--I wanted it to be true. I’d hoped from the second I signed the contract with the label to come down here and make it that she’d hear it one day and wonder what had happened. Maybe the lyrics and the melodies would leave her feeling just as confused as I did in New York when she disappeared in the middle of the night. 

Maybe the pictures I drew in the songs would leave her feeling as empty as I was that winter. 

I could only hope. 

NOW -  Day 1732

Margot didn’t know I was coming home to L.A., and I wanted to keep it that way. Out of my own selfish fear that she’d tell me not to or she’d worry about what people would think, I wanted the 5 hour plane ride from the East Coast to be relaxing. After all, promo tours were almost as tiresome as getting back together with your ex. 

When I landed at the small regional airport in Burbank, I called her and listened to the voice message that had been updated since 2015. She sounded older, more mature, somewhat vague, and like she probably wouldn’t call you back as soon as she could. 

I called Sinead next, hoping to find a location to head towards, seeing as I was already in a car heading West into town. Again, no answer. It was Nick who finally did. 

“Hey--yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s with Nathan.”

“In the studio?” I clarified, tugging at my lower lip as I watched the California landscape take shape outside my window. A noise of confirmation from Nick. “For herself?”

“Uh,” he seemed to stall, likely wondering if he should backtrack or carefully considering how to proceed. “I don’t know--have you called her?”

“Yeah--no answer.”

Had I called her? It felt like a bit of an insult--almost as if he were implying that I should know more than I did, and the fact that I didn’t held significant meaning.

I was doing my best--which is something it felt like everyone ignored. I was trying with every bone in my body to glue the pieces back together to resemble what her and I had once had, minus the cracks and the flaws and the lack of communication about emotions. 

With Nick off the phone and a better idea of where she was, I gave the address of Nathan’s studio to the driver, watching as the Hollywood streets turned to the hills of Sherman Oaks. 

The small house on a residential street was just as quiet as I remembered--except only now the shutters were blue instead of black. I wondered if the inside would be the same--the same couch where I’d watched Margot record the first song we’d written together. The kitchen off the side that Nathan kept filled with her favorite snacks. 

When I knocked on the door, there was silence for a moment, birds chirped in the yard--the soundproofed walls didn’t give me a taste of what was happening inside. 

Nathan, with a bit of surprise but a smile nonetheless (thank God), opened the door and called Margot’s name. “Someone’s here to see you.”

He stepped aside to let me in, pausing awkwardly in the small back room until Margot appeared with furrowed brows. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, moving towards me to let her arms wrap around my middle. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, thankful for the fact that, while she did seem confused, she wasn’t angry or upset. 

“Few days off. Figured I’d rather spend them here than New York.” 

She smiled up at me (apparently that was the right answer), but took her arms away from my sides, crossing them over her chest as she eyed me up and down. “And you just knew I was here?”

“I talked to Nick--I think he didn’t want to tell me.”

She let out a laugh and shrugged a bit at that. Nick hadn’t ever hated me--I think my relationship with him was more affected by his fear of what would happen if things didn’t work. When we were young, he’d tell Margot that relationships are great but work was important. I think it stressed him out for her career to be so intertwined with mine--any slight movement on either side of the boat and the whole thing could capsize. He wasn’t wrong.

Margot moved aside to let me hug Nathan--I’d spent plenty of late nights with them in this house, bringing food from In n’ Out or coffee from Starbucks. 

“Good to see you, man,” he said, clapping a hand on my back before pulling away.

“You too--how’re things? How’s Stacy?”

“She’s good, Lily’s almost three--it’s wild.” He pulled out a phone to show me a picture, both Margot and I smiled at the screen, though I figured she’d already seen it. 

When they led me back towards the board I wanted to ask but I didn’t. I didn’t let the words trail out of my mouth to inquire about what was happening--was she recording? Was it hers? Would it be released?

Instead, she texted Sinead to make sure she’d bring my bags into the house and let her know that we’d both be home for dinner. 

Eventually, she looked up at me from her seat on the couch. Nathan had disappeared on a phone call, giving us a few seconds alone. 

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“About what?” I feigned confusion, eliciting a giggle from her as she lifted her feet to rest on my lap. “This?” I motioned around the room--searching for clarification. “Your professional endeavors are none of my business.”

She rolled her eyes at my wording. “They are if you’re sleeping in my house.”

“Yeah about that,” I faked a frown. “Can I sleep over tonight? M’really not feeling the drive to Agoura Hills.”

She whacked me in the stomach playfully, another side eye as she leaned back to rest her head on a throw pillow behind her. She closed her eyes. “I’m recording my own stuff.”

There it was. I shifted a bit, letting the words settle in the air between us before clearing my throat. I nodded. I was supportive. I wanted her to do what she wanted. God knows everyone would be more than eager to listen to it--they were dying to hear from her and understand what had happened. 

“New or old?”

“Both.”

Another nod. Apparently words were escaping me. 

She opened one eye to peer over at me. “Do you care?”

“Care?” I asked, confused about her wording. “I want you to do what you think is best.” The words fell out of my mouth like hot lava. It was a phrase I’d said so many times. 

Should I extend the tour and spend more time away from you? Whatever you think is best. Should I do more promo for the album and lose more sleep? Whatever you think is best. 

Should I do this interview? Do this magazine cover? Where should we go on vacation? 

She knew it just as well as I did--which, I’d assume, is why she rolled her eyes before sitting up and staring at me straight on. “That’s not much of an answer.”

It used to be plenty. 

“I don’t know what you’re asking me,” I said honestly. “Do I care as in am I interested and supportive and all of that? Yes. Do I care as in am I worried that you’re going to--” I cut myself off. 

I hadn’t thought through the words enough yet. I knew she was thinking about it. I knew she was with Nathan that time I’d called her after she spoke to Ryan Seacrest. I wasn’t completely in the dark--but I didn’t know enough to save me from the ruminating over worst case scenarios. 

“Am I going to what?” She pushed. “Do the same thing you did to me?”

Ouch. I sighed, letting my head fall against the back of the couch in exasperation. “Yeah. That.”

She srunched her lips in thought, her eyes trailing over the room. Past the sound board, past Nathan’s chair, past the coffee table where I knew she did a lot of writing. And then they fell on me. 

“You can’t blame me for wondering.”

“I don’t,” her shoulders moved with her words. “But you can’t expect me to not be honest.”

“I was honest too.”

“No--you made it sound like I left without a word and like you had no idea what was going on.”

“I didn’t!” I defended suddenly--the emotion just as raw inside of me as if it were November of 2015. “I felt like I had no answers and then suddenly you weren’t there. I never planned on not being with you. I always factored you into my life.”

The words looked like they stung, and I hadn’t meant for them to. Margot seemed to retract her feet and become smaller as she shook her head. “I didn’t plan on fucking you up, Harry. I made a decision based on what I thought was best.”

She threw my words back at me like poison. I broke eye contact. For a minute I wondered if we’d ever be able to move past it--the night in New York when she cut the cord. 

She shook her head a little, staring at the hardwood floors beneath us. “I have to tell my story and say how I feel. If I don’t do that--I’m just doing the same thing as before.”

She could tell I didn’t understand when I narrowed my eyes. 

“I have to be honest and write what I feel and tell my side because if I don’t I’ll resent it and I’m not going into this with any type of agreement to keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to be silenced by fear or anxiety or anything.”

I nodded--almost taken back by her honesty, a breath of air escaping my lips. “I want you to do what’s right for you. I just don’t want to look like an asshole.”

I smirked a little--knowing full well that I probably would. Maybe not in every song. But in some. 

A door shut down the hall, letting us know that Nathan was off the phone. Margot laughed and rolled her eyes playfully at me. “That makes two of us.”

THEN - Day 652

“Get your feet off the table,” my mom’s voice sounded from behind me as I . scrolled mindlessly on my phone. She let a hand trail down my hair as she passed behind the leather couch in my green room. 

I rolled my eyes and let out a scoff at her. “Mom--I can put my feet on my table if I want.”

“It’s called basic manners, honey, okay?” She sat in an armchair beside me--looking over her cell phone quickly before clicking it shut. She brought her eyes up to mine, then sighed. “I just met with Nick. They want to add another date in San Diego.”

“Okay,” I nodded, dropping my own phone to my side before crossing my arms, trying to pull the San Diego date into my head. August. Sometime in August. But I didn’t know when. 

“Margot, you don’t have to say ‘yes’ to everything.”

“It’s my tour,” I reminded her, knowing full well that the decision ultimately came down to me. I hadn’t even spoken to Nick yet--and as I’d gotten older, my mom took on less and less of a managerial role. It felt better to have more separation between work and family, especially once I no longer needed her permission to lawfully engage in work. 

“Margot Leanne,” my mother shook her head at me. “What has gotten into you?”

I rolled my eyes again and pulled my legs up in front of my chest. The last thing I needed with two hours before doors was my mom acting as if I needed to run everything by her. 

In some ways, 2014 felt like the height of my career. I was on my 3rd headlining tour--my second sold out arena tour--I’d won four Grammys in February, and my time off was spent jetting between countries to visit my boyfriend on his sold out arena tour. I didn’t need my mother telling me to get my feet off of the coffee table. 

“Nothing has gotten into me,” I said quietly, hoping she’d drop the issue and give me some space. She didn’t seem to understand how much I needed lately. 

Days on tour were hot and busy and the nights were even more hectic. I spent most days doing radio interviews in cities we visited, meeting with VIPs--mainly the family or daughters of the arena executives who had been connected to a small meet and greet. Then there’d be wardrobe fittings, going over tricky dance moves, soundcheck, meet and greet with fans, and then I was lucky to get an hour or two of quiet before I had to start hair and make up. 

Pair that with being on stage in front of 50,000+ people for two and a half hours and by the time I got into bed on the bus, my ears were ringing, my head was spinning, and my heart was asking me how long this would all last. 

Would I make it another 10 years? Could I do another four arena tours--like my contract demanded? How many albums would the label want out of me? Was I writing this next one fast enough? Soon I’d have to start recording late at night on the bus once Nathan flew out. Write, sing, record, perform. Smile, be grateful, be cheery. Repeat.

It was hard to quiet my thoughts at night, but the hum of the highway beneath the wheels would usually lull me to sleep. And when it didn’t, I called Harry. 

THEN - Day 1629

When Sinead showed up at my house a few days ago to tell me that Harry was releasing a single, I knew someone who’d be more shocked than I was. 

“I can’t believe that asshole has the balls to write some song and release it,” Cara rolled her eyes and sipped at the iced coffee in front of her. I sat in the kitchen of her West Hollywood apartment, hoping the maintenance man would be over soon to fix her air conditioner. 

The spring air was warm in Southern California, and Cara had nothing but shorts and a sports bra on when I showed up. 

Cara and I met when we were 14--early in my music and acting career and early in her high school career. She lived down the street from me when we first moved to California, and for some reason, she was one of the only people I felt I could trust. 

She wasn’t too shaken by the whole fame thing--in fact, she was more concerned with whether or not I could help her meet Channing Tatum than she was about the fact that I was signing record deals and had a popular sitcom. 

“He’s not an asshole,” I said, wiping the condensation on my plastic Starbucks cup before a drip found the top of her counter. “He’s just--I don’t know. I have no clue if it’s about anything. Could be about a fucking staircase, for all I know.”

“Yeah, I just,” she shook her head, running a hand through her long hair. “I hope he doesn’t stir shit up.”

“Uh, it’s going to stir shit up. I’ve kept such a low profile no one even knows I’m here,” I motioned around her apartment--implying that there had once been a time where Cara had to come to me. I got sick of sneaking up the back stairs of her apartment complex and through the hoard of paparazzi that would follow behind my car. 

“I could call him--you know, reach out and ask if it’s about you.” There was a knock on the door--hopefully the maintenance man. 

“No,” I shook my head, watching as she rounded the counter to greet whoever was on the other side. “No one is reaching out to him.”

“We’ll call Niall! I’m sure Niall knows.”

“He doesn’t--I texted him the other night.”

Cara pulled the door open, revealing a man in a blue collared shirt. He looked more like a pool boy than a maintenance man--and he introduced himself as Pete. 

Cara showed Pete where her central air ducts were--and soon he was headed out to the back of the building, hoping to find the problem. Cara relocated to her couch and I followed behind, bringing my iced coffee with me. 

“Or Niall’s just not telling you,” she shrugged. 

“He would tell me if he knew--or warn me, I guess.”

She gathered her blonde hair to one side and used the hair-tie around her wrist to hold it in place. “Y’think Harry’s pissed that Niall and you are still so close?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” I lied, letting my tongue find the green straw before sucking. “I lost compassion for him when I went to rehab and he didn’t call.”

Cara laughed, rolling her eyes and shaking her cup to make sure she’d gotten all of the coffee out--it was just ice now. “He wanted you to get help--so you do, and then he doesn’t call. Typical man.”

I was quiet at that. I didn’t know if I’d call Harry typical. So many things about him and about us felt anything but--but I knew what Cara meant. And she had a point. He wanted me to get help, to go somewhere and get better, but when I did, he disappeared. 

So was that what he really wanted after all?

But I couldn’t let myself think that way--I couldn’t let the what ifs occupy my mind and I couldn’t sit around wondering how things would be different if I hadn’t left, hadn’t gone to Tennessee, if he had called. 

I went. He didn’t call. I learned ways to handle the waves of panic that settled in my bones when I was left with the quiet of my bedroom and the uncertainty of a Sunday afternoon. 

I wasn’t paralyzed anymore by the fear of the unknown. 

“You okay?”

I let out a sigh but nodded--thankful to have someone like Cara who’d stuck around through it all. I couldn’t say the same for a lot of my friends. “I just can’t believe he’s not in my life, you know?”

She nodded, a thoughtful look on her face as she waited for me to say more. I think Cara was used to me being pretty tight lipped about things, so when she got something out of me, she wanted as much as she’d get, 

Lucky for her, I was under-caffeinated, hot, and had nothing to do on a Friday morning. 

“I didn’t think--I dunno,” I stopped myself. 

“What?”

I looked around the room, feeling the emotion build in my chest as I spoke. “I really thought he would have called by now.”

NOW -- Day 1734

Margot peered over the counter--a wrinkle in her forehead as she read over the board one more time. It was early afternoon, so it’s not like there was a line behind us or anything, but her indecision felt eerily similar to how things had been. 

“Just a chocolate milkshake,” she spoke finally, her eyes flickering up to smile at the girl who’d fill our order. 

We’d dipped into a small ice cream shop on the Pacific Coast Highway--and after a few pictures with the two girls behind the counter, Margot took on the task of deciding what she wanted. Now, after ordering, she smiled up at me. 

“We came here when were, like, 19--do you remember that?”

“S’why I suggested it,” I said, slipping my fingers between hers as I pulled her towards the register. 

Things felt calm--or, more importantly, Margot felt calm. She didn’t seem to check over her shoulder every second for a camera or obsessively fix the sunglasses on her face to shield her eyes from whoever was watching.

She leaned against me as we waited for our order--my arms wrapped around her shoulders in an display of affection. I was surprised she was okay with it--she used to be more standoffish about that type of thing. 

Once I finally got my sundae and she finally got her shake--which she beamed at with wide eyes--she sat across from me at a small table in the corner of the room. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked me suddenly--her eyes on her hands as she fiddled with the straw wrapper in her fingers. 

“How am I feeling?” I repeated her question, checking that I hadn’t misheard her. She nodded. “‘Bout what, lovie?”

“About all of this,” she shrugged a bit, taking a sip of her treat before bringing her eyes back up to mine. 

I let out a breath of air through my nose--hoping to string together the right words so as to not alarm her. But then, when she shifted in her chair, I realized I was doing it. 

I was dancing around her, fearful of saying the wrong thing, but even more fearful of her reaction. I cleared my throat--she stared at me with eyes that told me she knew I was thinking. 

“I feel like I’m taking it day by day,” I said honestly, watching her closely for any sign of emotion. She nodded, a smile pulling at her lips. “What?”

She tilted her head to the side as if to shrink away from the question. I reached a hand forward to poke her arm--eliciting a giggle from her as she sipped at her shake again. 

She sighed, rolling her eyes a little. “I think that’s the only way we can do this. One day at a time.”

I nodded--a sense of relief washing over me upon hearing we were on the same page. The relief, though, seemed to give me the necessary clearance to be more honest with her. 

“S’hard, obviously, to be away and be working right now. But m’really happy that we’re giving this a shot.”

“Me too,” she nodded slightly, her eyes scanned over the empty room. At 1pm on Tuesday, we figured we were safe to dip inside here and make it out relatively unscathed. There was laughter from the two girls behind the counter--who seemed to sheepishly watch us enjoy the ice cream--but she didn’t seem to mind too much. 

“How do you feel?” I turned the question around--always hoping for a better view of Margot’s mind. How did the wheels turn inside? How did she manage to handle all of the emotions I knew she felt without always giving it away that she was feeling them?

“I feel--” she hummed a little, thinking of the right word before picking up the straw wrapper again. “Nervous, I guess.”

“Nervous?”

She dropped the paper on the table and nodded--another sip before bringing her eyes back to me. 

“About what?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged awkwardly--and I think we both knew she was lying. “I mean, people know, and they’re starting to really know,” she motioned with her chin to the girls behind the counter--who’d undoubtedly already posted their pictures to the internet. “And people haven’t always liked it.”

I hummed in agreement--there was no use in denying that people were talking and we were spending time together and there was now a mountain of evidence that we were, in fact, back together. Whether or not either of us had confirmed it publicly--what did it matter? Pictures of me leaving her house--pictures of us out to dinner, in the car, my arm around her shoulders walking into an office building in Encino where we saw Hillary--seemed to solidify the thought in everyone’s head. 

The look on her face made me concerned, though. “Do you not want them to know?”

“No--I don’t care--it’s the truth, I just--” she paused again, scrunching her lips as she seemed to let her mouth catch up with her brain. “I’m trying really hard to talk more. And tell you how I feel and be honest and all of that. But it’s hard and scary--especially when you’re traveling so much for work and when the actual tour starts in the fall. S’bad timing.” 

I laughed a little at that--nothing about our relationship seemed to have good timing. She kept her eyes on her hands--the wheels must have been turning, she started speaking again and the words seemed to come out a quicker pace. “And I’m afraid that everyone in your life--your friends and family and the fans--they’re probably not too happy with me.”

“It’s no one’s business,” I said simply. “My friends and family are fine--my life is my life and we all know that my mum and sister want nothing more than for us to just have a baby already.”

She laughed, somewhat reassured as she sipped at her milkshake. “And Niall practically cried tears of joy when we FaceTimed him together that night.”

I laughed, taking another bite of ice cream in front of me. She was quiet for a moment--the air around us settling before she spoke.

“I think it’s going to be an album.”

An album? I felt my eyebrows lift in surprise--the ice cream in front of me was sure to melt now. “The songs?”

She nodded. After our conversation at Nathan’s a few days ago, we hadn’t spoken of it much. I didn’t want to pry and she likely didn’t want to give away too much in the early stages. 

“Oh.”

Another nod. 

“How’s it going?” I asked slowly, the words came out of my mouth sounding manufactured and awkward. 

“Good,” she said simply. “S’nice to be back in the studio and being creative and whatnot. I really like the way the songs are shaping out.”

“Do I get to hear them ever? Or I’ve got to wait like the rest of the world?”

She laughed at this, her lips pulling up into a smile that made my stomach warm with butterflies. “Who knows. I don’t even know if we’ll do a traditional release.”

“What do you mean?”

Her shoulders rose and fell, she picked up the milkshake and tilted it to sip the last of the ice cream inside. “We might not announce it until, like, it’s just released.”

“No promo?” My forehead wrinkled in confusion. It didn’t sound like something Nick would go for--or the label for that matter. But then again, when you’re Margot Jones, they let you make your own rules. 

“Might just release it on apple music, spotify, other streaming platforms. This--to me--is less about money and awards and making waves.”

I nodded, urging her to continue. I spooned some ice cream into my mouth. 

“It’s more about just putting it out there. I’ve been gone. You were gone from my life. A lot happened. Here’s how I felt.”

Her words, though they made sense, sent a bit of a chill down my spine. I guess I couldn’t blame her for wanting to tell her side of things. I mean--how could I? How could I be upset that Margot Jones--of all people--had a captive audience that was begging to hear her take on things?

I guess I couldn’t--even if I was nervous for what her side entailed. So instead of protesting, I swallowed my pride and reached across the table to hold her hand. “M’proud of you, lovie. I want you to tell your side.”

NOW -- Day 1735

Harry heading to the East Coast for more promo left a quiet wake in the living room of my house. Sinead, who had my laptop set up on the coffee table between us, leaned forward to press play once I settled into my spot on the cushion. 

I’d known about the documentary--Harry had mentioned it in passing at Geoffrey’s the first time I saw him. For some reason, though, I pushed it out of my mind until he mentioned it again in front of Sinead. As soon as he left the room, she insisted--with wide eyes--that we watch it one night with a bottle of wine.

I wasn’t afraid, exactly. It’s not like I thought he was going to bad mouth me on camera or do anything purposeful to make me look bad--the songs did enough of that on their own. I think he knew that. 

So when the music started to play and he appeared on the screen, Sinead looked over to me and offered a smile. I think she knew how sad I was. 

It was strange to be watching something that offered a glimpse into his time without me. I mean--that’s what it was, right? Here’s a documentary of what I did to get over her. 

It felt, even more now, like he was offering people a piece of our story and showing them how bad things were. He cut his hair, he stayed in a house on a hill where no one knew his name. I was left with a strange flavor of guilt in my mouth that only slightly disappeared with each sip of chianti. 

He drank--like he’d mentioned--to forget about the reality of the world off of the island. And when that didn’t work, he drank more. 

I tried to think of the time frame--where was I when he was there? What was I doing? The truth is that I was likely in my bedroom at my mom’s house--or Amanda’s office--hoping to avoid those exact circulating questions about where I was and what I was doing. I couldn’t even run from myself. 

“I can’t believe he even wrote this song,” Sinead said quietly, her eyes drifting to mine as the sun set outside. “About sleeping with someone else in an attempt to move on.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I shrugged--and I meant it. I could tell he wasn’t himself. I could tell he was sad and lonely and confused, slowing coming out of his funk as time wore on and the number days between now and New York climbed. But I still wished that instead of finding someone else to spend the night with, he just picked up the phone. 

I don’t think I’d ever not wish for that. 

NOW -- Day 1742

I don’t think Margot cared that she wasn’t here. She said she wasn’t ready to be more public and she said she’d rather support me from the sidelines--or, really, from a safe distance in L.A. I’d been briefed by my team on ways to respond. How to answer questions that felt manageable-- or how to avoid the ones that didn’t.

I knew the game and I knew how to keep a steady smile throughout all of it. I was hoping, maybe unrealistically, that no one would put me on the spot. I  hoped that there were better things to talk about than whether or not my car in her driveway meant something. I was hoping, truthfully, for an easy night of work and drinks and watching the movie and just getting on with it. 

But life was never that easy. 

The first question wasn’t too loaded. “How’s Margot--you’ve been spending time with her?”

She’s good. She’s great. We’re enjoying each other’s company. 

Fine enough. I could answer that. She knew I’d get asked and she knew I wasn’t going to go out of my way to deny anything. But I also promised I wouldn’t give too much away. 

My real concern, I guess, was saying the right thing. After a few years in the business, I felt like I could talk my way out of just about anything, but having Margot involved felt different. I didn’t want to say anything she wouldn’t like--I didn’t want to say anything that made it sound like we weren’t together. 

I guess, realistically, a part of me wanted to be honest. And not in the sense that I would tell an interviewer everything there was to know about our relationship, but more so that if someone called her my girlfriend, I didn’t have to backtrack and try to minimize our relationship. 

I knew that Margot didn’t like the way the media portrayed me--I mean, I couldn’t say that I always loved it either. But it felt safer to just admit we were together and give Margot some sort of stability and reassurance that I wasn’t going anywhere. 

She’d yet to bring up the girl from Jamaica again but I knew it was only a matter of time. I could see it in her eyes when she stared at me in bed--my head on the pillow beside hers only minutes before she’d turn the light out. 

I knew she was holding it in and I knew that--finally--she was creating music to let some of that out. I only hoped that it did the trick to release some of the tension and pressure between us. 

A woman with a big smile in a blue dress seemed to catch my gaze as I made my way down the line of media. She asked about the movie and moving on from the band, and just when I thought she was finished, she spoke again. “Margot Jones--are things back on? It’s pretty clear through your album that you had a lot to say to her, or about her, really,” her voice was inquisitive but pointed, almost as if she knew exactly how I’d answer. 

“Uh, y’know, Margot is a great girl and she’s always been an important part of my life, so s’nice to get to hang out with her again. Thanks for coming,” I said to the woman, ready to move my feet to walk away, but she spoke so quickly I couldn’t help but hear her follow up. 

“Did you hear that she had a lover in Tennessee? Is his story true?”

I tried to not let the confusion watch over my face in public--that was one of the first things I’d learned. Our publicist had told us early on that the worst thing you could do was let them know you were shocked. Something about fuel on the fire, making more news, the like. 

I tried to blink a few times as the security guard behind me pushed me forward, clearly giving me an excuse to not answer and move on through the line of people who were dying to ask me stupid questions. 

A lover in Tennessee? Is his story true?

I had to push it out of my mind to get through the rest of the small talk--the questions, the fans, the people who’d been invited to the premiere. A swirling in my head in the London heat made it hard to focus, but once I was able to dip inside the air conditioned loo in the theatre, I pulled out my phone. 

A quick google search would likely put my heart to ease. Margot Jones Tennessee lover. 

What a strange thing to type--I waited for the webpage to load. 

I blinked twice again, trying to make sense of the pictures at the top of the page--pictures of Margot from various events or magazines--and beneath them, small black words seemed to elicit a thundering heartbeat that suddenly brought a pounding to my ears. 

Tennessee rehab employee breaks silence: I dated Margot Jones!

#udos #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fan fic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #one direction fic #one direction fiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles story #harry styles hetfic #harry styles smut

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Cheater

Summary: (Y/N) has a very important breakthrough.

Pairing: Hvitserk x Reader.

@ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila,@demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13,@fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl,@blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi,@minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela,@titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi,@whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv,@mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes,@neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies,@anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey,@ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama,@ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi,@ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog,@lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god,@im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins,@cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke,@meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7,@ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel,@funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired,@cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld,@justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome,@inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim,@idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004,@buckythetinman ,@burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @heartbeats-wildly, @berserkerbearsbabblings, @moondustmemories, @therealcalicali, @naaladareia, @cheercherry, @captainfoxy22, @biracialmelaninteen, @breathingincandescent

Part One,Part Two,Part Three, Part Four

‘Who the hell does he think he is?!’ you complained as you removed your makeup.

‘Your ex.’ Maggie said.

‘Exactly… ex, as in not now. Seriously, my first night out looking for a quick rebound and he pops up.’

‘Well I want to agree and let you rant but I did say a rebound was a bad idea.’ your friend and roommate said.

‘And I want you to listen to me rant, so the whole I told you so thing isn’t helping.’ you grinned over your shoulder.

‘It needed saying nonetheless.’ she grinned back.

‘Anyway why are so offended, most women are flattered when their ex can’t move on.’ Maggie said.

‘Well call me crazy but I don’t like that he thought some half ass apology and explanation would make me go back to dealing with his shit.’ you said as you stood from your seat and turned to look at her.

‘Do you know how shitty it feels to know all your friends talk about you having so low of an opinion of yourself that you stay with a cheating asshole?’ you said as you sat on the bed beside Maggie.

‘I don’t and just to clarify I never talked shit behind your back, I prefer the face to face method.’

‘That’s why I like you, but more than that, Hvitserk looked truly shocked that I didn’t fall into his arms the second I saw him.’ you added.

‘Well he is a boy and their minds aren’t as great as ours, I’m not just going to say you get over him though.’ she advised.

‘So just take him back and let him cheat on me some more?’ you snipped.

‘No, but be honest you love him still. He drives you nuts, but you miss him like hell and you know it.’ Maggie said.

You sighed and laid back on the mattress.

‘Of course I miss the asshole, but loving him more than me isn’t good for either of us. He’ll just get worse and I’d just sit there and let it happen. I’m gonna fall in love with me before I even think about being with him again.’

‘Self love is the best love, that’s what I say.’ Maggie replied as she laid beside you.

‘Right, and it's a new love for me.’

‘Well enjoy it, if I loved me any more than I do now I wouldn’t need Ubbe at all.’` she joked.

‘Ew I don’t need that kind of insight on your self love, nasty.’ you laughed.

A knock on the door came and interrupted your little girl talk and Maggie hurried to get it.

‘Babe!’ she cheered.

You rolled your eyes and put on your slides and grabbed a hoodie, it was time to go. As much as you loved them Ubbe and Maggie were the over sexual couple that made everyone uncomfortable.

Quickly you picked up you bag and phone and scurried through the living room, keeping your head down as you tried to ignore all the little whines Maggie makes.

At last you made it out of the apartment, with minimum trauma.

Well they’d need a few hours and it was two AM, where could you go to wait them out?

The twenty four hour cafe never let you down and a few of those pastries would definitely not hurt either.

Off you went to the cafe, once you were there you bought a danish and a hot chocolate and got a good table by an outlet so you could charge your phone.

Honestly you wanted to go to bed, but you can think of worse things to do at three in the morning.

Like moping and crying over an idiot who mistreated you.

‘Excuse me?’

You look up in shock and see a very handsome guy standing by you with a laptop bag in one hand and a coffee in the other.

‘Do you mind if I sit with you, the other outlets ore shot out.’ he said nervously.

‘Oh sure, go ahead.’ you said moving your bag from the chair across from you and let the guy sit down and take out his computer and charger.

‘Thanks, this is the only cafe with decent wifi for eight blocks and I didn’t want to go that far out this late.’ he chatted.

‘Same, so what are you working on?’ you asked.

‘My thesis, last one.’ he said.

‘Oh congratulations, my best friend just graduated earlier this month, you must be from a different college.’ you commented.

‘I’d guess so, I go to Wessex University.’

‘Oh wow, you would not get along with Ivar at all. He’s from Kattegat and a damn proud Heathen.’ you laughed.

‘Ew, a Heathen.’ the boy dramatically said making you laugh.

‘What’s your name Saxon boy?’ you asked.

‘Alfred and what’s your name Heathen Girl.’

‘Not a Heathen, but my name is (Y/N).’ you replied.

‘So what are doing out so late?’ Alfred asked.

‘Roommate’s boyfriend came over, fill in the blanks.’ you sighed.

‘Yuck.’

‘I know. What about you, bad wifi at home?’ you guessed.

‘Roommate had a sock on the door.’

‘Yuck.’ you repeated.

‘I know.’ he repeated as well.

The two of you kept on talking and chatting and just generally getting along and enjoying each other’s company.

‘You are a mess.’ you laughed.

‘I like to call myself unorganized.’ he grinned.

‘Hey can I get your number, I need to know if you are this funny all day or if this is just sleep deprivation I’m talking to.’ you said.

‘Alright.’ Alfred said as he took your phone and put in his number and called himself.

You both saved each other as contacts and the conversation went on as before, smooth and easy.

It felt like no time had passed at all, that’s why you were so confused to see the sun rising outside.

‘Oh shit, its six AM!’ you gasped.

‘Oh fuck! I should get back to the dorm, I gotta a class at twelve and I need at least four hours to get through the day.’ he said as he gathered his things.

‘Damn I better let you go, and I’m sure my roommate is finish by now.’ you said as you too gathered your things.  

‘It was great talking to you, just the kind of convo I needed after two weeks of straight lectures and my roommate checking to see if I’m dead before telling me he has a dude or girl coming over.’ he joked.

‘See you around Heathen.’ Alfred said as you both exited the cafe.

‘I’m not a Heathen, but goodbye Saxon Boy.’ you bid farewell before the two of you parted ways.

As you walked back to Maggie’s apartment you thought back to how you never got to meet new people when you were with Hvitserk.

Sure he was by no means controlling, but with him your world was him and you saw whoever he did, if he didn’t know someone then neither did you. Outside of him and his brothers you didn’t really talk to other men, some part of you hoped Hvitserk would see your loyalty and do the same.

Didn’t work.

Now you did not have to sit home and wait for him to come back from whoever he was with, you could go out and make friends again.

Once you were back hope you grossed out to see A very much naked and passed out couple on the couch.

You sighed and put the throw blanket over them and made a note not to sit there until it was steam cleaned.

Thankfully you had gotten a call yesterday saying you had been approved for an apartment closer to your job.

You went back to your room and laid down ready to crash when you phone chimed, letting you know that you had text.

Expecting it to be Alfred you looked, but it was someone else.

Hvitserk: Please don’t ignore this.

You wanted to just put down your phone and ignore it like you had all his text, but to be honest you had stopped being angry.

Being mad all the time is exhausting and you really didn’t realize that until after you had hand made a Hvitserk Pinata and beat the holy hell out it.

Your arms were sore, the rooms were a mess and even when it was broken you were so mad you went to your knees and hand ripped all the pieces to shreds.

That was how unleashed all your rage, now you had no reason to ignore his texts.

(Y/N): What is it? Is something wrong?

Hvitserk: No, I just want to talk, really talk not like tonight with all the noise. You and me sitting down

You read that text over a few times before you replied.

Y/N: What is there to talk about?

Hvitserk: I owe you an apology and an explanation. A real one, not just me begging you to take me back as I am.

Hvitserk: Not that I don’t still want you to take me back if that’s on the table, lol

You hated how that stupid man could make you laugh.

Y/N: when do you want to talk and where, maybe I’ll show up.

Hvitserk: Tonight at nine, our special place.

That took you by surprise, you hadn’t been there in forever, you were surprised he even remembered.

Y/N: Alright, if I’m not busy.

You hesitated for a few seconds before you closed your eyes and hit send.

With that said you put down the phone and turned it off before rolling over and making yourself go to bed.

After you woke up a around two you got to work packing your things and during your breaks you would look for a good moving company to take your things from storage.

Honestly you were being productive AF, and while you were proud of yourself you knew you were just trying to procrastinate.

You didn’t want to think about your meeting with Hvitserk, you still weren’t sure you were even going to show.

“GO BESTFRIEND THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND!” your phone blasted Ivar’s ringtone.

You picked it up and put it on speaker while you went back to marking boxes.

‘What the hell are doing you idiot?’ Ivar said.

‘Hello to you too Ivar.’ you laughed.

‘Don’t get cute, my idiot brother is a nervous wreck right now and you can’t tell me you have nothing to do with it.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, all I have done is agree to see him tonight.’ you said.

‘So it was you, I swear to the Gods (Y/N), this idiot is one call away from me killing him.’ Ivar said.

‘Good, don’t tell me you don’t think he deserves to sweat for while.’

‘He does obviously, but why does he have to get on my nerves while he’s in it. If he calls my phone one more time I swear I’m going to track his phone and hit his ass with my car.’ he ranted.

‘It would be a shame to go to jail right after your graduation, plus with the move I don’t think I will have enough money to put on your books.’ you teased.

‘You suck, I hope you can’t find anything to wear tonight.’ Ivar bit.

‘Who says I’ll go?’

‘You will, you’re too curious not to.’ Ivar said before the line went dead.

‘Asshole.’ you smiled.

You looked at the time and saw that it it was six, you’d need to leave soon, and you did need to start getting ready.

Ivar was right, as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted to hear Hvitserk out and did want to look immaculate.

So you showered and put on a outfit, for yourself, not him. You wore jeans, heels and a crop top, make up done and accessories added.

You were ready to go, but before you got to the door you stopped.

Why not make him wait for once?

You sat back on the armchair and cut on the TV, you weren’t going to leave at nine.

It was easier said than done you found out, you felt really bad and caved, leaving at eight forty five.

By the time that you do reach your location it was nine fifty.

You got out of your car and looked at you and Hvitserk’s special place.

His father’s first house, it was a small house in a middle class neighborhood; Ragnar had lived here before he had started off his company. This was where he stayed with his first wife Lagertha before he met Aslaug on a business trip.

After his divorce and his company had truly taken off he moved out and into a new larger home with Hvitserk’s mother, but he never sold his first home.

This is where Hvitserk took you for your first date, where you and he had sex for the first time. This was where you two came to be alone before you had moved in together.

It was the place where you pretended you truly were the only woman in Hvitserk life.

Hvitserk's car was in the driveway so clearly he was here waiting for you.

A small part of you was surprised by that as you walked up to the door and rang the bell.

Immediately it was thrown open, you were surprised it wasn't yanked of the hinges.

There he was, Hvitserk, the man who broke your heart and destroyed your world.

He was dressed in a dress shirt, business pants and shoes.

It was your favorite outfit on him and he knew it.

'Hi.’ Hvitserk said nervously as he looked at you and your attire.

You knew he liked you better in dresses and skirt, easy access and quickly removed. You hoped your clothes would convey your secret message that you were not here to have make up sex.

'Hey.’ you said back.

'I didn't think you would show.’ he said as he stepped aside and let you in.

'I thought about it, but I do think you owe me an explanation. I deserve that at least.’

'You do, and you deserved more than what I gave you.’ he said sincerely.

'Come on, I cooked if you're hungry.’ Hvitserk offered, leading you to the kitchen.

'You cooked, by yourself?’ you asked in shock.

'Well it's just pasta and garlic bread, nothing gourmet, but I did my best.’ he blushed.

If you judged by how much he ate you would think he cooked all the time, but you would be wrong. You had to drag him away from whatever he was doing to make him help you cook otherwise he’d live on junk food and takeout.

So the fact that he had actually cooked alone spoke volumes.

You went to sit at the table and Hvitserk pulled out your chair like he always did when you two were out before he sat down the plates.

He went to the kitchen for a second and returned with two plates of and sat one down across from you.

You thanked him for the food and began eating, it was pretty good and you let him know as much, this seemed to make him sigh in relief.

‘I’m happy you like it, but I’m even happier that you came (Y/N). I know that you didn’t have to and I didn’t deserve it.’ he said.

‘You didn’t, but I do, so please tell me the truth. Why did you cheat and why did you never stop.’ you asked sitting down your fork.

‘I...at first we weren’t serious or exclusive and I thought there was nothing wrong with what I was doing. I thought you had felt the same way, we were just...going on dates. Then it was more and you wanted to be official.’

‘I begged you to be exclusive, because I already knew what was going on then.’ you corrected.

‘And I said we were, and at first I tried, but then I went out and met someone I don’t even remember the name of. It felt horrible seeing you after that, but then nothing changed and I thought I had gotten away with it. You didn’t say anything, so I just…’

‘Kept on doing it, because I didn’t say anything?’

‘Because I thought I could, I never thought you would find out or that you would leave. I thought...no I knew you loved me more than anything, and I took advantage of that.’ Hvitserk confessed.

‘You did, and I knew...and I hurt.’ you said as tears came to your eyes.

‘I always knew and I always acted like I never saw it because I did love you. I don’t know why but when my friend sent me that picture of you with that secretary...I couldn’t pretend anymore. I was tired and angry and just fed up with you and your shit.’ you finished.

'I didn't know that you knew, and I know that's no excuse, but I do wish you would have spoken up before.’

'I tried once, when I asked to be exclusive, and you looked me in the eye and lied. You said I was the only one for you whenever I asked.’

'You are, the other women really meant nothing to me. They would get angry when I'd leave or they get impatient with me not spending time with them, but I didn't care. They came and went and it never had any affect on me, then you left and everything went wrong.’ he explained.

‘I couldn’t stand waking up without you, being in that apartment and not hearing you moving around, even the shows we watched together weren’t as good without your commentary to make me laugh.’ he finished.

‘Just because you cared about me more than the others doesn’t make it better. There should have been no other women, maybe before I asked to be exclusive you had an excuse...but after that?’

‘I know that, I should have been faithful to you and respected you enough to tell you what was happening. What I did was hurtful, disrespectful, dishonest, stupid, and arrogant. If by some miracle you took I would spend every second trying earn your trust and showing you how sorry I am.’ Hvitserk promised.

‘Oh Hvitserk...I have waited two years to hear you say those words, then I spent a year realizing I’d never hear them.’ you said.

‘And this year?’

‘I think at this point I just don’t care. Even if you were telling the truth I don’t trust you. I don’t want to go back always wondering what you are doing and never feeling like I’m enough.’ you answered.

‘Please (Y/N), don’t let this be the end of us.’ he pleaded, standing up and walking around the table and taking your hand before he kneeled in front of you.

‘We did have good times when we were together but honestly the bad outweighed the good tenfold.’ you said sadly as you pulled your hand away.

Hvitserk looked devastated and despite you feeling in your heart you were making the right decision it broke your heart to see him like this.

With a heavy heart you stood from your seat and Hvitserk stood as well.

‘A lot of what went wrong with us was your fault, but not all the blame was on you. I didn’t communicate that your actions were hurting me and I let it carry on. You were the love of my life but you are bad for me, I’m sorry Hvitserk.’ you apologized before walking away.

‘I will keep trying to show you that I’ve changed, I will make you see that I can be trusted not to hurt you like I did before.’

You stopped by the door with your hand on the door knob.

‘That’s another thing, I don’t want you to do anything for me. You need to do it for you Hvitserk. This can’t be the type of man you wanted to be, this is how Ragnar  destroyed both of his marriages.’

‘He’s still married.’ he tried.

‘Does your mother love him?’ you challenged as you turned to face him.

When he didn’t answer you continued.

‘Does he love her? Is their relationship what you want for the two of us? Because if it is then it’s good thing we ended things before I started to hate you.’ you finished before you left.

Closing the door behind yourself felt almost like some deep metaphor, your time with Hvitserk had come to an end and you knew it. There was no going back to what it was because what it was wasn’t good for you.

Even if you had taken him back and he had actually stayed faithful this time you would probably still be looking over your shoulder. The paranoia would drive you nuts, there would be no point in the relationship if there was no trust.

Your head was much clearer after your talk with Hvitserk which was really all that you wanted to get out of this.

Once you had got into your car your phone chimed with a message, you pulled it out of your pocket and saw that Alfred had texted you.

Alfred: Another sock on the door wanna meet at the cafe again, I’ll buy the pastries.

For a second you looked up at the house where you left Hvitserk, but then you replied.

(Y/N): I’m there.

#cheater series #modern!vikings #vikings imagine #hvitserk ragnarson #ivar ragnarson #alfred

[bellatrixobsessed1]

In Chrysalis (Part 9)

Their invasion is more or less full scale. There is no subtlety. No sneaking around. Acxa had said that an attack of this sort is best done directly. Keith agreed that she had another good point; they wouldn’t be able to maintain the manpower they needed for the mission and sneak around at the same time. It was either creep about with wit and intellect or numbers and brute strength. The last time they had gone for stealth, it had almost ended poorly. The last few times, in fact. So, this time, they will utilize a new strategy. This time they will take the Galra approach to fighting.

 Keith’s heart pounds as they near the compound. If things went well, if they managed to breech the laboratory, a few of them would sneak off to a stealthier mission. Preferably Acxa and Pidge would be the ones for that. They are the smallest, and this side mission is mostly for the sake of Acxa anyways.

 “Do you really think we can take her down already?” Hunk asks. “I don’t think that I’m ready for this.”

 “You are ready, Hunk. We’ve fought Haggar before, we beat Zarkon, we beat Lotor, and we survived a weblum. We can infiltrate a lab and beat Haggar again.”  Keith replies, he has to keep Hunk’s morale and sense of courage up. They can’t afford a lapse in either of those things today. “We’re a team Hunk, and if we can remember that, we’ll be fine.”

 The laboratory looms ever closer.

They will be there within the hour.

 .oOo.

 Acxa knows that a lot is at stake. Her shot at being half-Galra again—or at least the ability to choose. Ezor and Zethrid’s freedom—their lives, perhaps. The lives of the other prisoners, both Galra and human alike.

She is not used to having so many people depending on her actions. It is daunting. Intimidating to the point were a teeny fragment of her mind wishes that she was on the other side of the war again. The side where she was only one solider and her actions had less consequence. She wishes that she didn’t have the moral code that she did. But at the same time, she can’t fathom herself without it. She isn’t the most secure in body, but she is confident in her soul.

 She readies her weapons. If nothing else, she will save Ezor and Zethrid. And if her life is what she must give to do so, then she will fall trying. A noble, wholly Galra death.

 “Wow, you look pissed.” Lance comments.

 “Hmmm…” Veronica trails off, “I’d say it’s more like grim. She looks grim.”

 “What’s wrong?” Lance asks.

 “I’m thinking about my death.”

 “Oh…wow.” Nadia comments. “You have a way with words.”

 Acxa’s face flushes. She still forgets that humans are not quite as blunt as her people. “I mean, I am thinking of who I am willing to die for if I have to.”

 Veronica squeezes her hand. “You’re not going to die. We won’t let that happen.”

 But they don’t realize that she will die for them if she has to. She hasn’t known them terribly long, but they have shown her more compassion and acceptance in that small window than anyone has afforded her in her lifetime. She will not let them die for her.

 .oOo.

 When they touch down, Keith is overpowered by a nauseating smell. It is the scent of death and corrosion with an unbearable acidic tang. He wonders how Haggar can tolerate it. He wonders how Acxa had dealt with it. He spares her a look, and he can see it on her that she is uncomfortable. He hates dragging her so close to terrible memories, but he knows that she’d have fought him if he hadn’t.

He hugs her close before the latch opens.

 Shiro faces the laboratory with hard eyes. As soon as the loading dock hits the ground with its rebounding metallic bang he calls for them to attack. They surge forward with a fury and a purpose.

 Keith looks to Acxa. “Stay close to Pidge and I, if you can. Once we make it into the lab we’ll go for Haggar’s research notes.”

 “We’ll go for the prisoners.” Acxa argues. “The notes are secondary.”

 “If things go as planned, there will be enough fuss for the prisoners to free themselves and fight with us.”

 “What about the ones who are in the middle of being experimented on?” Pidge questions.

 “That’s where Lance, Allura and Veronica come in.” Keith reminds her.

 “Right.”

 “And if they need back up, “Hunk, Shiro, and Coran will step in.” Keith adds. “Everyone else will be fighting Haggar’s army.”

 “Coran’s in this battle.” Acxa looks completely befuddled.

 “Every man we got is on the field today.” Keith replies.

 “He’s more competent than he makes himself out to be, he’ll be okay.” Pidge notes. “Look out!”

 Just on time, Keith ducks under a Galra blade. He draws his own weapon and brings it down on his opponent. A swift and sturdy kick to the man’s kneecaps had him toppling. Keith dashes forward, he can’t waste all of his time. “Pidge, Acxa, don’t spend too much time on one person. Stun and run.”

 Hunk chuckles next to him. “Stun ‘n run. I like it.”

 Keith rolls his eyes, at least they’ll remember it. He notices though, that Acxa is already a few leagues ahead of them. She weaves her way in and out of the soldiers. What she now lacks in physical strength, she makes up for in speed.

 “Damn.” He hisses, she might just be getting too far ahead. “Okay Pidge, forget stun. Just run.” He tries to mimic the way Acxa moves. Pidge imitates her nearly flawlessly. He is having trouble, he’s not short enough to go unnoticed nor to doge blades and shots like they do. He speaks into his communication device. “Once you make it inside, find a spot to wait for me, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He huffs as he ducks under a deadly looking beam.

 .oOo.

 Acxa throws herself behind a pillar. She hadn’t exactly meant to get so far ahead of the group. She hadn’t expected to have the capability still. She readies her gun as a figure appears. It raises its hands, “don’t shoot.”

 Acxa lowers the gun. “How far back is Keith?”

 “Pretty far.” Pidge frowns.

 “We’ll break into the laboratory.” Acxa says. “It will be easier for him to find us in there.”

 She peeks her head around the pillar and motions for Pidge to follow. All of the enemy forces had surged forward, leaving an unguarded gap between themselves and the door.

 “Wow, that’s convenient.”

 “For now. It’ll be heavily guarded when we get inside.”

 “We could plant a bomb, that’ll get the doors open and maybe take down some of the guards.” Pidge suggested.

 “That will work. It should anyways.”

 Pidge pulls a few mines from her arsenal and syncs them up with her detonator. “Think you can plant them?”

 Acxa nods.

 .oOo.

 He is panting and sore but he has almost caught up. He can see them lingering at the door to the laboratory and wonders why they haven’t just went in. He rams his elbow into the stomach of a Galra and watches him drop. He is so close to being in the clear. He is caught in a tangle of limbs, mostly Galra and struggles to fight his way out of it.

 By the time he wiggles his way out of their grasp he is even shorter of breath and frighteningly low on stamina. He catches sight of Allura in a midair twirl, she lands elegantly behind her foe and lands a hard kick on the Galra woman’s head.

 An explosion rocks the battlefield.

The door to the laboratory has been blasted open and the dots connect.

 He pushes himself onward and throws himself into the tumult within the lab. It is smoky and flames still lick the entry room. It is hard to find Acxa and Pidge amid the chaos. “Where are you guys?” He askes into his communication device.

 Their connection is staticy but he can hear Acxa mutter some directions. He requests repetition. Instead, she pings him her location and he hurries towards the dot pulsing on his hologram map. She and Pidge are huddled under a desk, he knows that the sneaky part of their battle has begun. He watches Acxa run her eyes over her own map. She purses her lips in concentration and finally speaks. “Third floor, to the right. That’s where the prisoners human prisoners are being held. The Galra prisoners are to the left. While group B frees those, have group C check floor four, that’s where the UV rooms are.”

 “Alright so Allura’s group to floor three and Hunk’s to group to floor four.” He bit his lip, so far things weren’t going according to plan. He was a fool to not consider that one group—in this case, his—would make it to the lab before everyone else. As quietly as possible he relays the new plan. “Groups B and C, this is Keith from Group A…”

 “We know who you are.” Lance cuts him off.

 He scowls to himself but he doesn’t have time for petty arguments. “This is group A, reporting that we’ve breeched the lab so there will be a slight change in plans. Group A will proceed with finding the research notes. The first group to make it in, B or C will be in charge of freeing the prisoners who aren’t in the UV rooms on floor…”

 “Three.” Acxa repeats herself.

 “On floor three. The remaining group will free those who are being experimented on. According to Acxa there are multiple UV rooms in this lab.”

 “If you lose your sense of direction just follow the tubes of quintessence, they go into the UV rooms.” Acxa adds.

 “Confirm?”

 “We got it Keith.” Hunk says.

 “We understand too.” Veronica states.

 “The rest of us hold our ground on the battlefield?” Kinkade asks.

 “Correct.” Keith replies. “You and everyone else will stick to the original plan.”

 .oOo.

 She doesn’t vocalize it, but she wants to abandon her post and make her way to floor three. She wants nothing more than to find Ezor and Zethrid.

 “What floor will the notes be on.”

 Acxa frowns. “They will probably be with Haggar herself. Either her sleeping quarters or an office of sorts.” She peers at the map. “The top floor.”

 “Great.” Pidge grumbles. “Of course they’re on the top floor.”

 “That won’t be a problem if we can swipe some uniforms, preferably the ones with helmets.”

 “Way a head of you.” Keith smirks, dumping a pile of clothes in front of them. “Pidge is the smallest so she’ll take that one.” He hands it to the girl. “This one is probably going to be a bit big on you.”

 “It doesn’t matter as long as I won’t be tripping over it.” Frankly she just wants to get things moving. She slips into the enemy uniform and pulls the helmet over her head. It doesn’t fit too poorly, but it isn’t exactly ideal after having been spoiled with custom fit uniforms.

 They try to exude an air of confidence as if they are supposed to be there as they climb a few flights of stairs.

 “Ya know, elevators were invented for a reason.” Keith remarks to no one in particular.

 “The last thing we need is to get stuck in an elevator, Keith. This is the most fool proof way.” Pidge counters.

 “I guess.”

 They make it to floor four and Acxa fights the feeling of dread that washes over her as the soft buzzing meets her ears. She tries to block it out and ascends the staircase that much faster. At last they reach the seventh and final floor. That is when the commotion begins a few floors down. The sound of an alarm lets her know that either group B or group C had successfully opened the holding cells. She curses softly to herself, “we have to hide.”

 “But we’re in uniform.” Keith frowns.

 “Something tells me that only Haggar and maybe a few specific soldiers are allowed on this floor.” Pidge agrees.

 Acxa watches as Pidge punches a few numbers into her stolen uniform’s digital operating system. “Help me out with this.” She whispers to Acxa. “What do these symbols mean.”

 “They are command prompts.” Acxa replies.

 “Do any of them control the power.”

 Acxa points at one and Pidge hits it. She hits the red symbol and the power cuts. They conceal themselves in the shadowed areas behind a row of file cabinets. Now it is a matter of waiting out the sound of footsteps.

 “You fools.” The voice sends chills down Acxa’s spine. “There are more of you than there are them. So how is it that they’ve managed to free the prisoners and kill our power supply?”

 Acxa’s heart thunders but she knows what she has to do. “Cover me.” She whispers and before Keith can protest, she leaps from her hiding spot and lands a kick on one of Haggar’s six guards. He topples as a cussing Keith charges for another. Pidge takes down another.

 Acxa has the witch by the throat.

 This time she gives a raspy chuckle. “Do you really think I’m going to let you do that again.” In a twinkling flash of quintessence, the woman is no longer in her grasp. She feels a burst of energy erupt against her back and she stumbles forward and to the ground.

 “Acxa!”

 “Focus on your battle, there are still three guards left.” Acxa scolds.

 “Make that two.” Pidge comments.

 Acxa throws herself to the side as another burst of energy is thrown towards her. She pulls her gun and fires a few rounds. Only one hits the witch, but she remains unfazed.

 Another guard drops and then the last.

 “Oh now, this isn’t a very fair fight is it.” Haggar’s grin is taunting. She materializes behind Keith. “How about you call off your army. Return my prisoners and I’ll let him live.”

 Acxa swallows.

 “Not so nice is it?” Haggar’s smirk widens. “Being on the other side of this.”

 “Don’t call them off.” Keith winces as she squeezes him tighter.

 “You know, it’s a shame.” Haggar mutters. “You could have been an honorable solider. You could have ruled the galaxy with me.” She drums her fingertips on Keith’s head. “I was going to make you a full-blood Galra, you know. But I worried about your loyalties.”

 “You were right to worry.” Acxa confirms.

 Haggar sighs, “yes, a shame.” She repeats. “You could have been powerful.” She claws at Keith’s hair line until a thin trail of blood trickles forth. “You still can be, I can’t give you full Galra blood. All you have to do is let the boy…and that girl, die.”

 To be a full Galra…

Acxa clenches her fists. It would be so nice to have that. It would take away the insecurities she harbored. It would take them away without her having to throw away her Galra advantages. She would have a chance to be something.

 “You can be a full Galra and you could marry my son.”

 Her heart flutters at the mention.

 “I can’t imagine him turning you down then.”

 It surprises her how much she truly misses Lotor. The kind Lotor who had saved her from the streets and from being completely outcasted. The Lotor she cherished before the quintessence had taken over.

 “Think of it as a second chance. A grand rebirth.”

 .oOo.

 Keith says nothing. He says nothing because he knows that she is smarter than that. He says nothing until she locks eyes with the witch and asks, “can you really make that happen?”

 Her soft voice is dribbled with sincerity and a heat rises to Keith’s cheeks. “Are you really going to hear her out?”

 To his surprise, Haggar doesn’t punish him. She doesn’t even silence him.

 “He doesn’t understand.” The witch continues. And he realizes what she is doing. She hadn’t hurt him because that would have brought some reality back to Acxa. “I’ll make you an offer. You come with me now, and I’ll make the boy a full Galra too.” She strokes his hair. “He’s already halfway there.”

 “You’ll make Keith a Galra too?” Acxa repeats.

 Haggar nods. “And then you can choose. You can have my son’s hand in marriage or his. Hell, you can have both if that’s what you really want. All it takes is returning my prisoners and one last trip to the UV room, how about it?”

 “Okay.”

 “You really do like to flop sides, don’t you!?” Pidge exclaims.

 “You don’t understand.” The look in Acxa’s eyes is so terrifying foreign. It is a perplexing mixture of longing and sorrow and of victory and relief. “This is my only chance.”

 “You had a chance with me.” Keith says, his voice hitches.

 She smiles softly, “I still do, when we’re both Galra.”

 Haggar motions for her fully recovered guards to take hold of him and seize Pidge. “Come on then.” She sets a falsely tentative hand on Acxa’s shoulder. He is forced to follow them down the hall. To his horror, there is a UV room at its end. His final plan, to use the commotion below, is obliterated.

 “I’m sorry, Keith.”

 Keith turns is head, he won’t look at her if he can help it.

 “I do care about you.”

He almost gives it a bitter laugh.

 .oOo.

 Acxa lets Haggar lead her into the room. Her head dips and her heart is heavy because she knows that he hates her. He hates everything she is, was, and would become. He hates her with everything in him. But that is fine by her, because he would love again her in the end.

 This UV room is different from the one she had been in. A dome of quintessence pulses so brightly in front of her. A tear makes its way down her cheek. She waits for Haggar to lock the door before smashing the thing to pieces.

 Her world is lost in a bright magenta burst and the sound of shattering glass.

With any luck, it will burn the witch away too.

#Voltron #Acxa #Kacxa #Keith Kogane #Pidge #Haggar #Hunk #Lance #Shiro #Allura #Coran #Veronica #Fanfiction

[djinmer4]

Lord of the Rings (Ultimate AU)

“Hey, do you remember this?”  Kurt typed in a few commands in the Danger Room control center and the room shifted into a lush temperate forest.  Kitty looked around.  She patted a few trees, scuffed the ground underneath her and dipped one hand in the water.  “Everything looks good,” she said.  “The updates pushed through fine.  And no, I don’t remember this?  Should I?”

Kurt teleported out, leaving the control room empty.  Kitty had a brief image of Jamie freaking out, reminding them to always have a spotter.  The German bamfed in front of her, dressed in a cosplay outfit.  “Fair Kitten, the dragon will not breathe another breath of hellfire as long as your trusted Legolas-”

“Oh, this scenario,” Kitty sighed.  It had been a long time since they’ve done this before she had even gotten together with Peter.  Back when Piotr and Kurt had still been friends.

“No nostalgia for you?”

“I’ve always liked Eowyn more than Arwen.  The films haven’t changed my opinion.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to be rescued?”

“No, I didn’t want to be rescued because I had a lot of homework that evening.  Aaannddd I don’t like being a damsel in distress.  I’d rather rescue myself.”

“Oh.”  He fiddled with the bow and arrows he had brought.

“Don’t let me stop you if you want to play.  I’ll watch from the control room.”

“But it’s pointless if you’re not here.”

“Kurt . . . “

“I know.  I’m sorry.  It’s just . . . I wondered if we could go back to those days.  Before I screwed everything up.”

“We can’t.  Time moves in one direction only and without the knowledge we have today, we wouldn’t do anything different so it wouldn’t be worth it.”  She settled on an illusionary stump.  “Why this scenario in particular?”

“Oh, um, when Piotr and I came up with it, it was an attempt at getting you to like me.”

She stared at him but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.  “You were trying to woo me by rescuing me from a fake dragon?”

“Umwerben?  Freien?  Is that what ‘woo’ means?”

“’Woo’ means to court someone.  To make someone partial to something or someone.”

“I guess so.  It clearly didn’t work but I thought there was some hope.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, you did call me cute when you left.  Piotr said that cute is good.”

“I suspect I was being sarcastic at the time.”  She stretched hands over her head and back arching.  “It wasn’t a bad idea.  But it was bad timing on your part.  I might have played along then if I didn’t have something more urgent to do.”

“You have some free time now.”

“You really want to get me in that stupid corseted dress, don’t you?”

“Well, you did look very good in it.”  He peeked at her from the side of his eyes (not that anyone would be able to tell).

“I don’t know about that.  That dress was itchy and uncomfortable.”

“Would it help if it’s not the same dress?”

She turned to look at him fully.  “Why are you so bound and determined about this?”

“It can’t be because I want to be a better person?”

“That wouldn’t explain why you feel the need to seek out my company all the time.  It’s one thing to make things up to Piotr and Alison.  I’m not one of the people you harmed.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you being out of my life. I just had to have you. You can understand my reasoning for that right?”

“No, not really.”  

“Let me put it this way.  We were friends before.  You’re one of the only people who are still willing to be friends with me.  And I’m in love with you.”

“I’m having a hard time believing it.”  Kitty sighed.  “I don’t want to think about this right now.  Give me the dress, but I’ll be damned if I stand in one place while you get to slay the dragon.”

The blue dress was easier to move in than that white frock.

“I think you set the difficulty too high.”

“Nein, nein.  I’ve got this,” panted Kurt, teleporting away from the dragon’s fiery breath.  “Just give me a few seconds to get in the right position . . . “

Kitty flinched as another blast went past her, just missing the pole she was tied to.  “Please hurry, it’s getting awfully warm in this pit!”

“Phase out then!”

“I can’t!  Your stupid orcs used adamantium chains to tie me up!”

Kurt absent-mindedly made a note that apparently Excalibur-Britain had adamantium chains as part of its inventory.  Learn something new every day.

He bamfed over the dragon’s head and tried to slice through his neck.  The sword rebounded of its scales and he was sent into an uncontrolled spin.  A quick teleport got him down on the ground and he rolled to a stop at Kitty’s feet.  “Great work, Legolas.”  She commented dryly.  “Now how are you going to kill that thing?”

“Why in the tried and true method that Tolkien’s dragon slayers used!”  He pulled out his bow.  The dragon opened its mouth and inhaled.  Carefully aiming, Kurt fired an arrow into the dragon’s mouth.  Or rather he tried to.  Of all the armaments Weapon XVII had ever mastered, bow and arrow aren’t any of them.  The shot ended up nowhere near the dragon’s mouth.  Not at all discouraged, Kurt pulled another one from the quiver and fired again.  Closer this time.

“Kurt, now would be a good time to use the override!”

“It’s under control, Katzchen!”  Shot after shot.  Finally, one hit, not into the dragon’s mouth but its eye.  It reared back and loosed a fiery beam into the sky, clawing at its face.  Rather than try that again, Kurt turned to Kitty and freed her, carefully teleporting a few links of the chain away so she could pull loose from the pillar.  “Don’t I get a kiss, madchen?” he teased.

“Ask me that after the dragon’s dead.”  Kitty helped herself to one of his swords.  “Get me up over his head.”

“As you wish!”  Kurt teleported them over the flailing dragon.  Kitty pushed away, increasing her density as she fell.  She’d been aiming for the other eye, but an errant movement pushed her away so she settled for landing on its back and slashing its wings to shreds.  Her movements were uncoordinated but at least she knew which end was which.

Grounded, the dragon continued to howl.  Kurt, who had bamfed back to the ground after letting go of Kitty, took it upon himself to start shooting arrows at it again.  Unfortunately, even immobilized and blind in one eye, the dragon was still quite dangerous.  It growled, then bit down, taking the indigo man in one bite.

“Kurt!”

The dragon paused.  Then it convulsed, writhing around and forcing Kitty to take to the air to avoid being hit.  As the last of the death throws subsided it fell to its flank and its mouth gaped open.  Inside, Kitty could see Kurt.  He’d stabbed upward with his other sword when the dragon had chomped down on him and managed to pierce its brain.  As he crawled away from the corpse, Kitty carefully stepped down to help him up.

“I think we’ve both had enough for today.  Next time let’s do something easier, like ‘Pirates of the Carribean’.”

“I don’t think fighting a kraken would be any simpler than fighting a dragon but otherwise good point.  Computer override, schmetterling.  End program: ‘Rescue the Princess’.”

Kitty glared at him when she heard the name.  Kurt just shrugged.  “Piotr picked it out, not me.  So now that the dragon’s dead . . . “

The younger girl burst out laughing.  “Have you seen yourself?  You’re covered in dragon brains!  Go take a shower and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Kurt put up a small amount of grumbling but inside he agreed with her.  He hadn’t expected Excalibur’s Danger Room to be quite so realistic.  He’d nearly lost his grip on the sword when the dragon snapped him up and started drooling on him.  The German couldn’t wait to get clean.

#ultimate au #Kurt Wagner #nightcrawler #Kitty Pryde #shroud #worst way to kill a dragon

[marvel-ous-fan]

A Strange Encounter (Doctor Strange x Reader) Chapter 7

Summary: You are just an average girl in the Big Apple but one day everything changes when you meet a very interesting and rather… strange man.

A/N: wow wow WOW I am soooo sorry ya’ll I meant to post this like a week ago but every time I open my laptop I get so sidetracked and I feel bad because its kinda short... Anyway I apologize for the delay and I hope you like it.

Warnings: assault (not sexual assault tho because that’s bad)

Word count: 1960

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Read on AO3

Previously in A Strange Encounter - chapter 6:

“Help me? Unless you can fix my hands you are of no use to me.” he said as he pulled his arm away and turned away from you.

You didn’t know what to say, but at this point you were fed up with his attitude and the way he was acting. “Okay now this is the part where you apologize.”

“No, this is the part where you leave.” he said, still not looking at you, instead looking out the window.

“fine, but if I walk out that door I am never coming back” you really hoped that the threat would work, but you knew it wouldn’t change his mind.

Stephen looked over to you with pain and hatred. “Go”

And with that you turned on your heels and walked out the door, head held high to give the illusion of being okay, holding back the swell of tears that you would explode into after you closed the door.

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You ran down the stairs as fast as you could. You felt completely, well you didn’t know how to describe how you felt, but it wasn’t good. You burst through the front door of the complex gasping for breath. You didn’t know what to do or where to go, but you couldn’t be in the city any longer. You pulled out your phone with shaking hands about to call your parents, but you hesitated. You calmly put your phone back into your pocket and took a deep breath. You were not about to run home away from your problems, ruining your career and life just because of a stupid man. So you hailed a cab and went home to be comforted by bianca and her large quantities of ice cream.

“You know what, screw him, you don’t need him, if he can’t see he how amazing you are he’s a waste of time.” you giggled at Bianca's statement as you wiped away a tear and took another bite of (your favorite ice cream flavor).

“I know, but it just hurts so much. This isn’t like my other breakups, I really liked this guy… and I thought he really liked me… but I guess not.” You took another big bite of ice cream, somehow feeling better with every bite.

“Look I think you just need to go out with me, we’ll get some drinks, meet some boys and we can get you a rebound, what do you say?” she was getting really excited about going out with you again. It had been a while since just the two of you got to hang out with Stephen taking up a lot of your free time.

“Yeah I don’t know about that whole getting out there so soon, like we just had a fight, he could still call and things could be okay”

“I know but I just don’t want to see you waiting around for him.”

“I’ll be okay trust me, I’m sure he will call after he gets over it.” Bianca gave you a sympathetic smile as if to tell you not to get your hopes up. But you didn’t listen, you waited, and he never called.

------------------------------

It took longer than you thought to get over what Steven had said to you, and with him not calling you, you decided to take the fight to him. You had gone back to the hospital a few times to have lunch with Bianca, or rather to see of Stephen had been in lately. You thought that maybe if you ran into him the two of you could talk and work things out, but the meeting never happened. You were holding out hope that maybe he knew you were there and was avoiding you, but you gave up when you overheard two nurses talking about how he had left the country.

“You know I heard from Alice up in Peds. that he left from embarrassment.”

“I heard that too, but also Nick in Neuro said that he left for some experimental treatments.”

“Well either way, he’s gone, and I don’t think he’s coming back any time soon. Could you imagine showing your face here again after your career is ruined? I could never.”

You got up from the table with Bianca and walked away, you couldn’t believe what you had just heard, and you definitely couldn’t listen to those girls talk anymore. You left the hospital and went back to your couch, setting up to spend the rest of your day there to continue your routine of endless movies and icecream.

You eventually got over the heartbreak, it wasn’t easy but just a few months later and you went back to into your daily routine, the one before you met Stephen. At first everything was weird and felt out of place, but eventually it felt normal again. You went back to throwing yourself into work and tried your hardest to keep your mind off of Stephen. Everything was perfect again, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. You still had the job of your dreams and great friends to support you. You felt happy again for the first time in a long time, but you couldn’t help but still feel a little off. This time it wasn’t because of the emotions though, you felt like you had eyes on you at all times and you didn’t like it. It was like someone was stalking you.

You felt like you were being watched all the time, and not just in public like at the diner or in rehearsals, causing you to be more alert wherever you went. The feeling followed you home too, even with all the blinds closed you still felt like someone, or something, was watching you. You tried to shake the feeling but it was useless, you even tried to talk to Bianca but she told you were being paranoid. You wanted to believe her but you couldn’t.

It was a few days after the uneasiness started that you saw a dark figure in the alleyway right next to the diner on your walk to work. You saw it for a split second out of the corner of your eye but when you turned back it was gone. You wanted to leave it alone but you couldn’t help yourself and went down the alley. As you went deeper into the alley, you realised how dumb your idea was, it was dark and as soon as you started walking down you started regretting it. You went to turn around and go back when you saw the dark figure, but this one looked different. It slowly came toward you and you began to back away. Suddenly you stopped, but not because you wanted to, you had hit something. You turned around to see a man in a skee mask looming over you. The other figure came over to you and you saw it was another man.

“Well what’s a pretty lady like you doing all alone.” You froze at the comment, the sound of his voice making your skin crawl.

You felt one of the men put his hands on your arms and you tensed up.

“Please, just let me go, I don’t have any money on me I don’t even have a purse-” one of the men cut you off by putting his hand on your mouth while the other grabbed your hand.

“Well that’s one pretty bracelet you got there.” you looked down at the bracelet that Stephen had given you.

“Please-” you managed to scream out. The men grabbed you as you struggled to break free. You wanted to scream but they had gagged your mouth at this point and began tying your hands back. This was your worst nightmare, it was impossible to believe this was happening, you wanted anything but to be there. You were about to give up on fighting them when you saw a strange orange light, or was it a spark? All of a sudden the men were off of you and were being attacked by the orange light and whoever was wielding it. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw the two men run off. You looked back to where the light was coming from but it was gone. You looked around one more time before running past the diner and to the police station.

------------------------------

“So you’re saying that two men attacked you, but they ran off when they were beat up by a man with lightsaber?” The policeman sounded very uninterested in your statement and was starting to show it with his condescending tone.

“No it’s not a lightsaber, there was this weird orange light and this man was using to-” you were trying to explain further when he rudely cut you off.

“Look lady I don’t have time for these games, I got better things to do than listen to whatever it is happened to you.”

“I was attacked okay! Are you going to help me or not!” you were starting to get annoyed with the officer in front of you.

“Did they take anything?” you looked down at your wrist and saw the bracelet was gone. Your heart sank.

“Yes, They took my Tiffany bracelet, it was priceless” you could feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“Alright and can you tell me what they looked like.” you tried to rack your brain but you couldn’t make out any of their facial features.

“They were wearing masks I couldn’t see their faces, and I was in too much of a panic to remember anything about them.”

“Well then there’s nothing I can do for you then, may I advise you next time not to go down dark allies alone?” The officer gave you a condescending smile before returning to his computer screen.

You looked at him in shock before turning on your heels and walking out the door.

You were paranoid the whole walk back to the diner. Not only had you just been attacked but you still felt like you were being watched. You sheepishly went up to your boss after clocking in to explain to her why you had been 30 minutes late. Surprisingly she pulled you into a hug and comforted you, telling you to take the night off and get some food and rest in the break room, telling you she would get one of the guys on shift to escort you home. You felt so relieved by this and made your way to the break room. You went to go change into you extra clothes that you kept in case of work spills, you felt so uncomfortable in the ones you were wearing now. When you opened up your locker you stood there stunned, reaching in and pulling out the bracelet that Stephen had given you. Underneath it was a note, ‘Try to keep out of danger darling - S.S.’

You just stood there not knowing what to do, you couldn’t make sense of it, all you could manage to do was murmur one word. “Stephen?”

--------------------------------

A/N: once again thank you for reading! let me know if you would like to be tagged or have any ideas of where you want to see the story is going

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#a strange encounter #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #Doctor Stephen Strange #doctor strange #doctor strange fanfic #marvel #Marvel MCU #marvel fanfiction #Dr Strange #dr stephen strange

[jordan202]

Maybe This Time

Hey guys, I was watching the scenes from episode 12 and it just got me thinking… I don’t usually write a different story while working on something else, but I was probably going to forget about the idea I had. I didn’t plan for it to take this turn but the story got a life of its own :) 

Oh, I am in a hurry for a double shift so I didn’t ask anyone to proofread. I apologize in advance for my mistakes. The title isn’t coincidental.

Maybe This Time

Amelia nervously tapped her fingers on the working desk, too anxious for the computer results. During the past week, as she watched her patient being submitted to radiotherapy to treat a recurrent tumor, the neurosurgeon had struggled to come up with a viable plan that might allow her team to properly fund their ambitious plan.

While she knew the procedure was a sort of a Hail Mary and had its flaws, Amelia was desperately in need of something that would give her patient hope.

Maybe the reason behind all that was that she needed something to give her hope.

Lately, her life had been nothing but a mess. After a failed marriage, which she refused to think much about, and a brain tumor that had given Amelia answers about her impulsivity but had also served to confuse her feelings even more, the neurosurgeon longed for something that would be good and actually help someone. It was actually easier to focus her energy on the study for Kimmie’s tumor and devote her entire time to it than trying to figure out the mess that her personal life had become.

“So, have you come up with anything yet?”

Amelia’s thoughts were distracted by the sound of Alex Karev’s words and she saw the look of defeat on his face. Much to her own dismay, he also hadn’t been successful to get any kind of support for their project. It pretty much seemed like a dead end for them. Even Bello and DeLuca were losing motivation and Amelia couldn’t blame them. There were several other projects out there that were soaring and the eager interns probably would rather spend their time actually learning something than staying immersed on a computer all day doing research.

Alex gazed at the neurosurgeon and saw the consternation on her face.

“It looks like we’re really going to lose this battle,” Karev commented, obviously unhappy about it.

Amelia hated that situation. And she hated what she was about to propose. But then she thought of Kimmie’s joy and the girl’s happiness at sharing her gift with the world. Something had to be done.

“Not yet,” Amelia said with determination, looking into Alex’s eyes. “I have an idea…”

.

“You have to be kidding me,” Thomas Koracick’s annoyance was obvious not only in his voice, but also on the look on his face and the way he walked, “you have to be freaking kidding me.”

“Look, Tom, I…”

“YOU tricked me here saying you had a groundbreaking project for me,” Koracick nearly hissed, looking at his former’s student with impatience. “I actually bailed on presenting a case at the American College of Surgeons and got on a flight to this hell hole because I believed you and this is what you have for me?” he frowned, absolutely irritated. “HIFU? Are you kidding me?”

Amelia sighed heavily, knowing she shouldn’t be surprised. A couple of days before, she had gotten in touch with her former boss at Johns Hopkins. Tom Koracick ran the neurosurgical department there and had more resources at his disposal than anyone else she could remember. A few weeks prior to that, Tom had flown over to operate on her brain tumor and he’d even stuck around to help her get her department back on track once she was recovered. Before he could return to Hopkins, the two of them had slept together but Amelia knew it hadn’t really meant anything. Not to her, at least, and she supposed that not for Tom either.

For Amelia, it had been all about having a rebound after her complicated separation from her husband. It still sounded funny to think of Owen as that, since they weren’t even living in the same house anymore… But until their divorce was finalized, Amelia knew that technically, that was what he was.

And for Tom, sleeping with her had probably been about his own ego. Amelia knew he was a womanizer and even though during her residency the guy had been extremely professional, never had he hidden the fact that if Amelia ever gave him an opening, he wouldn’t hesitate to sleep with her. She had never really been interested, especially while he was her boss. But now, the two of them were at a leveled position, both ran neurosurgical departments and Amelia had impulsively done it. Physically, it had felt okay, but emotionally, Amelia knew it hadn’t really meant anything.

“It has never been tested on brain tumors before…” Amelia tried to reason and hopefully convince him.

“Oh, why do you think that is?” Koracick sarcastically asked, looking at her as if she should have known better. HIFU, or high frequency focused ultrasound was a non-invasive method that recently was being studied to treat tumors. That wasn’t exactly news in the surgical word.

“No one has really studied it on brain tumors…” Amelia sheepishly gave it another try.

“Yes, exactly!” Koracick interrupted her. “I am sure I don’t need to tell you that even if you successfully blast tumor cells with this new technology there is just no way you can guarantee clean margins and without the full, resection the likelihood that the tumor…”

“…will grow back is high, I know, I know,” Amelia sighed, hating to admit he was right. On tumors that could be later operated or managed with follow up, the HIFU method seemed like a good option. But for brain tumors, there were no guarantees it would work on the long run. “But it could help her buy some time and who knows even…”

“This is exactly why your project got rejected,” during the brief time he’d been at the hospital, Thomas had been brought to speed on the contest and saw the few projects that had made it. “It’s not cost effective, you should know that” he condescendingly rolled his eyes at her. “It doesn’t matter how noble your intentions are, Shepherd. Haven’t you learned this by now? Why would anyone in their right minds invest money on a study that promises no different outcome than a partial resection would?”

“You’re being extremely pessimistic!” Amelia lost her patience with him. “You’re putting all these obstacles when you’ve barely given me a chance to try.” She understood his frustration but he was throwing a bucket of ice water on her plans and that infuriated her.

Especially because she couldn’t refute any of his arguments.

“Look, you know I would love to help you if I could but my hands are tied,” Koracick sighed heavily, regaining some of his calmness. “Trust me, I deal with this kind of debacle all the time and I know you desperately want to help this kid, but it’s better if you just play it clean with the family instead of playing God here, okay?” Amelia scowled, hating to feel like once again he was the professor and she the inexperienced intern, but at the moment, it was exactly how she felt. “I have promised Catherine I’d have dinner with her. She wants me to properly meet her husband,” the neurosurgeon rolled his eyes, as if he was dreading the idea. “I am sorry I can’t help you.”

Amelia watched as Tom Koracick left, hating the fact she couldn’t really hate him for what he was doing. In his place, she probably would have done the same. And now she was back to square one.

For the rest of the day, Amelia stayed immersed in her project, trying to think about any loopholes she could fix to make the idea more tempting for Koracick. She knew he would be in town at least until the following day, so she was racing the clock.

After hours reading in front of the computer, too focused on what she was studying, the click of the door handle started Amelia, causing her to nearly jump from her chair at the unexpected interruption.

“Uh, sorry…” a deep male voice spoke in a low tone. “I had no idea the room was taken.”

Amelia looked up to meet the eyes of the man she was married to. Other than the brief, awkward encounter at the house when she’d walked in on him having breakfast with another woman, they hadn’t really been alone in the same room ever since the day they’d returned their wedding bands to each other.

“It’s okay,” Amelia rubbed her tired eyes, shocked to realize it was nearly midnight. “I was just reading and lost track of time.”

“I was printing some papers earlier today and I think I left my phone charger here somewhere,” Owen justified his presence, pointing at his dead phone. “I’ve been looking for it everywhere and realized I last used it here.”

Amelia got up from her chair and helped him look, scrolling through the files and forgotten objects in the room that was mainly used by interns and residents.

For the following seconds, the neurosurgeon unsuccessfully tried to find the charger, but the lingering silence was growing uncomfortable by the second.

“So…” she cleared her throat, eager to make small talk, “you’re on the liver project, right?” Amelia distractedly asked. She wasn’t really sure. “How is that working out?”

“I was actually trying for a clot factor study but I dropped it,” Owen answered with a shrug. He saw the question on her face and elaborated, “research is not really my thing.”

“Yeah, you’ve always been more of a do-er than a planner,” Amelia smiled.

The neurosurgeon failed to realize at the time of her comment just how personal she sounded. But Owen captured the intimacy it implied and he avoided thinking much about it, choosing instead to focus on his search.

“Why clot factors, though?” Amelia asked after a few seconds of silence.

“I had read about this chained Polymer that was isolated not long ago,” Owen explained. “It basically adheres to hepatocytes and you can sort of choose the cell you’re working with.”

“Really?” Amelia frowned heavily, uncontrollably assaulted by ideas. “You mean like a selective binding protein?”

“Yeah, there is a full catalogue of those at Polymer that have been isolated but even though it sounds good, it’s not very viable for out type of research,” Owen added. “It has an extremely high cost and the patents are just insanely hard to get.”

“Can you tell me more about your clot factor work?” Amelia asked. The more information she had, the better would be to fit all puzzles together.

“Uh… Okay,” Owen saw the eagerness on her face and agreed. It was late and he was tired, but if that was going to make her happy, he could stick around for a few more minutes.

Very patiently, Owen sat down near a computer and logged into a system. For the following minutes, he thoroughly explained Amelia about the idea he’d had. During the entire time, it became kind of hard to ignore her presence. Especially when she stood so close like that. Was it just him, or did her hair smell especially good today?

“This is actually very helpful,” Amelia leaned forward to examine the computer screen a little closer, unaware of the reactions she was causing on the man sitting right next to her.

Owen closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He really shouldn’t be having those thoughts. Well technically, he should, because the woman responsible for invoking those feelings was his wife, but a thousand complications and unspoken issues stood in the way and he really didn’t want to deal with his feelings.

“Do you mind if I print this?” Amelia looked at him with expectation in her eyes.

Owen knew her well enough to realize she was up to something. And judging by the look on her face, it was good.

“Sure,” he instantly agreed, satisfied that his abandoned project had served at least to the purpose of making her smile like that again. He hadn’t seen in ever since the day she’d left their home and his life. “Feel free to use it.”

“Thank you,” Amelia shyly bit her lower lip and made eye contact with him, seeing the warmth in his eyes. She smiled brightly and tried to ignore the way her heart accelerated when he smiled back. “Good night, Owen.”

“Good night,” he reluctantly left the room, knowing that it was the wisest decision.

.

“So you’re telling me you want me to fund a multi million project in which you’ll basically buy the most expensive protein I’ve ever seen so you can blast it with high frequency waves?” Tom Koracick frowned, looking at Amelia with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“Precisely,” Amelia smiled widely, struggling to contain her excitement, “but the real catch here is that, when I blast those cells, the whole tumor will be gone.”

“I don’t know this is insane or purely genius,” Koracick commented, skimming through the paper that had her detailed project.

Amelia had spent the last ten hours coming up with the plan. Her body was tired, but her mind was too alert and excited for her to want to sleep.

“Where did you get the idea?” Koracick frowned, hating that he didn’t have it first.

“A colleague inspired me,” Amelia confessed. “He was going for something along those lines and I adapted his idea to mine.”

“Get him here,” Koracick unceremoniously demanded.

Amelia desperately needed Tom to embark on the project, because she depended on him to finance it. So she decided not to refute. Grabbing her cell phone, she called Owen, gently asking if he could meet her in one of the conference rooms.

About fifteen minutes later, the trauma surgeon joined them, supposing Amelia needed help with something they’d discussed the previous night. But to his surprise, he found her sitting next to Thomas Koracick, the same guy who had taken out her tumor.

Before Owen could ask any questions, Amelia started to fill him on what she’d spent the entire night working with. After Owen had introduced her to the Polymer idea, she had basically filtered through a huge catalog, finding the heaviest binding protein she could that would link to a receptor present only in cancerous cells. Those would heavily increase the mass of the tumor, including the tissue near the margins. Then, once with the ultrasound technique she was working on, it would be possible to work with the HIFU at a frequency that not only would kill the sick cells, but also make sure they had clean margins. Without the heavy Polymer, it was hard to tell and adjust the machine to sort out the diseased tissues from the healthy one, but once Amelia made the cancer cells much heavier, chances of success were incredibly higher.

“This is a brilliant idea,” he stated with conviction after taking a look at her initial proposal. “But the cost would be beyond the charts,” Owen affirmed, certain it would be a problem. “I mean, this Polymer chain you selected costs nearly twice as much as the one I had. It’s going to increase the cost of the project. And it’s not guaranteed it’ll work.”

Amelia was aware of that. She on purpose kept silence, sneakily turning her head to the side very slowly until her eyes finally met Tom’s.

“Give me a concrete reason why I should invest my money on this,” the arrogant surgeon demanded, raising his eyebrows.

“I am going to make history treating gliomas. And if you don’t fund my idea, I am going to sell it to someone who is going to make it happen.” Amelia raised her eyebrows in defiance. “And if I do that, your name won’t be on the paper when it gets published,” she sneakily reminded him, knowing nothing would infuriate Koracick more than letting an opportunity pass. “You’ll lose.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, studying Amelia’s features. She was serious, he knew it. Rolling his eyes, the prestigious surgeon finally made up his mind.

“Fine, but you’re going to report to me. I am going to be here when we use the HIFU for the first time. My name goes before yours on the project,” he dared her, seeing on Amelia’s scowl that she hated it. “And keep this guy, he clearly is more familiar than us with the Polymer thing.”

“No, thanks,” Owen straightforwardly answered. He wouldn’t mind doing it if it was for Amelia, but he had never sympathized with the guy who had once been her mentor and he definitely wasn’t going to be a part of something that would benefit him more than the true author of the project.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Amelia protested Koracick’s terms. “Hell no. Your name is not going before mine.”

“These are my conditions, it’s give or take,” Koracick said in a final tone.

“God… I hate you!” Amelia complained. But she knew she couldn’t give it up. Koracick was her only chance to keep the project going and most importantly, actually give Kimmie a chance. The hard work was just beginning and she would need a lot of help, but it all started with the funding.

“I have a plane to catch, you keep me updated,” Koracick wickedly winked in her direction, loving that he was coming out on top. And just as he was reaching the door, Amelia was collecting her stuff and Owen was logging out the computer, the controversial surgeon turned around, unable to help himself. “If you thought that sleeping with me would give you special treatment, you better think again, Shepherd,” he smirked, knowing he was causing a scene. Even though Amelia hadn’t said it, Koracick had recognized the guy in the room as the husband she’d recently separated from. He was glad he was leaving, because fixing marital drama wasn’t his thing. He was much better at causing it. “Email me as soon as you have phase one initiated.”

Koracick exited without another word, leaving Amelia in absolute shock. Not because he had been inappropriate, rude and extremely unprofessional. She was used to his teasing and didn’t mind it when it was just the two of them. But at that moment, her heart was racing and she had an awful feeling in her stomach.

Amelia knew that, by the time she’d slept with Koracick, she and Owen had already broken things off. She also knew that he had no right to judge her on it, considering he had pretty much slept with the first woman he found right after that.

But she was well aware of how possessive men could be. Especially men like Owen. And she recalled just how they’d agreed to blame all the problems of their marriage on her brain tumor, as if her feelings for him had been questionable while Owen didn’t really have a similar excuse to justify why he’d broken the marriage…

“Owen, I…”

“Good luck with your project,” he violently shut off the computer without waiting for it to properly turn off.

It was obvious he was furious and Amelia got instantly mad at that too.

“You can’t be serious, right?” she asked him just as Owen was about to exit through the door. “Are you really that upset that I had a one night stand? Really?” she followed him to the door, hoping Owen would calm down. He had always failed at keeping rational when he was furious like that. And she was actually surprised that he had been so bothered by it, to the point of getting that mad. “You spent the past weeks fooling around with that…”

“Don’t,” Owen grabbed her slim wrist and stopped Amelia from touching him just as she’d been about to. “Don’t say anything. You don’t owe me any explanations,” Amelia looked at him and instead of the warm, caring eyes, she found the scowl of a guy who was just too mad to even pretend he was okay. “You are a free woman. You can do whatever you want,” he said and Amelia instantly noticed his calm, rational speech completely contrasted with his infuriated reaction. But even though she noticed something was off, never would she be prepared to hear what would come next. “If you have to sleep with Koracick to get funding for your project, then so be it,” he cruelly accused her, knowing he was being extremely unfair. But Owen couldn’t help himself. The news had caught him totally off guard, and the way it had infuriated him had surprised him even more. “Next time just leave me out of it, okay? I don’t want to be a part of another one of your games.”

Amelia felt the blow the instant the words fired out of Owen’s mouth. She didn’t know what hurt her the most, the way he had cruelly accused her of something they both knew wasn’t true, or the cold look on his face as he’d done it.

The first tear rolled on her cheek, enraging Amelia even more.

Screw Owen, she thought, trying to contain the tears that insisted on falling. He had been the one to change his mind… It had been Owen the one to break off their marriage… It had also been Owen the one to jump into someone else’s bed and take a random woman to the house they’d once shared the minute she’d left the house. So he had no right to play that low.

How dare him accuse her of that? Amelia sighed heavily, heartbreak and hurt slowly being replaced by anger and determination. Briefly, she thought about giving up the project and telling Owen to shove his Polymer idea up his ass. But she couldn’t do that because Kimmie’s life depended on it.

And as she went on with her day, blaming exhaustion and sleep deprivation rather than her hurt feelings for the way she struggled to keep focus, Amelia felt more determined to make her innovative project work. It was the only thing in her life worth focusing on.

Owen could take care of his bruised ego on his own. Maybe their idea to become friends was really faded to disaster. After all, they could barely interact without the heavy cloud of their unresolved issues lingering on their heads. And if Owen’s display of anger served as example for what was about to come, Amelia thought maybe it was better to simply never go there after all.

#omelia #owen hunt #amelia shepherd #omeliafics #omeliafanfics #omeliafic #amenff #greysanatomy #grey's anatomy #greysnanatomyfanfic

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 35 - TOR - WHY NOT?

5-3 Regulation Loss

This is a confluence of events that gets you thinking about what kind of Sports City Buffalo is. The Buffalo Bills just locked up their first ten-win season since the year the Buffalo Sabres were last in the Stanley Cup Final. That sealed a playoff appearance this NFL season, the second such appearance this century. The last team the Sabres overcame to go to that 1999 Stanley Cup Final is none other than the Toronto Maple Leafs. Time is a flat circle but this all still feels very new. Buffalo has supported their teams loyally through thick and thin but mostly thin. Times like these feel like the reward. I’m not saying the Buffalo Sabres are due to go to the Stanley Cup Final but us holding the fort through this beyond shitty decade of hockey deserves some catharsis too. Spare a moment to think about how Buffalo is often regarded as a City free agents don’t want to come to. It feels bad but look at the Taylor Hall trade. New Jersey had him, got an MVP season out of him, but has now ultimately lost him. There are far fewer guys in Sabres history who were here for a short time and left. Yeah, there’s Drury, Briere and a handful of others but we don’t suffer from the same things the big popular cities suffer from. In those big markets you don’t have the attachment. They just leave whenever the contracts don’t line up. Sure that happens everywhere, but certainly a lot less in the frozen hellscapes nobody wants to visit like Buffalo. Just food for thought I guess. In the bigger, richer frozen hellscape up the highway, the new Toronto Maple Leafs, the Big Four Leafs if you will, have been good for nearly four years now. That’s begun to feel normal but in spite of that seeming inevitability it is the Sabres who are higher in the standings today. A rough start preceding a Head Coaching change still holds back the team everyone though was a Stanley Cup contender before the season began. National TV and the good taste of Sunday Night Football in our mouths this game was tantalizing opportunity.

Despite a high forechecking start for the visitors the Leafs struck first. Fredrik Gauthier benefited from a Brandon Montour turnover and ripped off a quick one past Linus Ullmark. In spite of the early 1-0 lead for the Leafs, Buffalo continued with an aggressive attack and very rarely too far away from the puck. The problem is they didn’t get many shots on goal, only five total for the whole first period. Most of the Sabres shots were after the twelve-minute mark. New Toronto Maple Leafs Coach Sheldon Keefe played around with line matchups and started juggling the Auston Matthews line away from the Eichel line. That and floating an extra winger seemed to get Buffalo lodged in their zone for uncomfortably long periods of time. Linus Ullmark had a lot of work in the first period. He was dancing with the best of them and robbed John Tavares before robbing Tyson Barrie. Like when I say robbed, Barrie’s jaw literally dropped. Ideally though you want to be the team taking the shots, not the one needing your goalie to have a big night. In the first period the Leafs were the ones shooting. The second period went… well worse. What do you call a horny white dude with a streak of hair on his upper lip? A 1970s pornstar… No: Auston Matthew. His scoring streak was done and the best porn stache Glendale, Arizona has seen in decades decided to whip it out when Jack Eichel is in the house!

A frantic zone entry preceded Morgan Rielly shooting a quick assist over to Matthews who fired it quicker than Ullmark could get over, 2-0 Leafs. What followed afterward for Buffalo was not the best hockey. Uh, no sir, the shooting was better than the first period by purely a shots on goal metric, but something just wasn’t clicking. In some respects the visitors just kind of… well flailed. There was a decent two-on-rush the Sabres got, that mind you was Conor Sheary and Jimmy Vesey, that just stopped dead in its tracks for no reason. Sheary just stopped to dead to play target practice. He did not aim well. When Auston Matthews scored the second time it was a rush done properly and a defensive scheme from Buffalo that just saw nobody try to stop anyone from doing anything. Rasmus Dahlin was in the net behind Ullmark like he didn’t know where to go! 3-0 Leafs and I got to say this was the first time since mid-November it looked like this team was down on itself. Ralph Krueger must have said what the astute observer of the NHL was thinking in the second intermission: this isn’t 2017, y’all have no reason to get down on yourselves playing THIS Leafs team. Stop it. Buck up and go get em. Go get em they did.

If you have a cursory understanding of the Toronto Maple Leafs Hockey Club you may know they just love throwing away leads. Funny thing in this season of giving is that the Buffalo Sabres Hockey Club loves late game comebacks. The Sabres won the Thanksgiving Playoffs last year doing it! The carry over from a John Tavares holding penalty from the last period gave the Sabres the man advantage in the early going and they took some momentum from it. Jack Eichel sets up Dahlin at the point and he launches one all the way home past Fredrik Andersen. Buffalo is on the board down 3-1 now and you better watch out because when the Sabres score powerplay goals they play with reckless abandon. Suddenly this game was a track meet back and forth. On one of those crazy rushes Dmytro Timashov beat Ullmark short side to extend the Leafs lead 4-1. A couple plays later Toronto almost scores and the puck is quickly rotated out of the defensive zone to Eichel already off down the ice in the opposite direction outrunning Justin Holl. Eichel puts it top shelf because FUCK Toronto! Get out of the way of my fucking yuletide spirit! Technically Eichel’s point streak was already continued by an assist on the Dahlin goal but yummy yummy in my tummy, give me banger against the Leafs, thanks Jack! The crazy pace did slow down a little after that unfortunately. I’ll be honest, it’s been a crazy week for my wife and I, so we were eyes deep in Kate McKinnon impressions at this point. Nonetheless the look of a comeback was brewing.

Kyle Okposo scored a rebound tap in sneaky shit and suddenly it’s a one goal game 4-3 with a little over five minutes left in regulation! Steve Dangle’s heart doctor isn’t going to like the look of this one at the next appointment! When Okposo scores it triggers one or both of two things: toxic hockey bros’ tweets about his concussion history or a big dick goal scoring streaks in comeback games. In this case it was both. The Sabres laid it on thick like some warm Canadian maple syrup at a holiday breakfast. I could hear the suburban hockey dads gently whisper “grind it out” into the crisp winter air like angels getting their wings. Unfortunately it was just not to be tonight in the center of the universe. After Ullmark was pulled all it took was one poor pass by Marcus Johansson to spring Ilya Mikheyev on the empty netter insurance goal. That was basically it and this one ended 5-3 in regulation. Those are the worst kind of losses: the ones in regulation… against the Leafs. Wah wah. That was all she wrote. Unlike Saturday’s overtime loss to the Islanders, a loss you almost get up out of your chair at home and clap for, last night’s loss was just… bleh. A regular grinch who stole Christmas.

Now the totally understandable surge of tweets begging for the reunion of Jack and Jeff that unfolded after this game felt like they were forgetting Victor Olofsson. I suppose we do need to see what he can do without Jack centering his line for a prolonged sample size, sure. But that’s not really what you might be apt to take coming out of this game. Like we’ve felt since before fucking Memorial Day: a trade is due here. One top six winger pushes this team to a place where they have some sustainability on the scoring front. This trade has to happen. I would hate it being for a center at this point though those are harder to get! Johansson has done a fine job in the 2C role, but we all know eventually he has to go back to wing, right? We sent Casey Mittelstadt down to Rochester. Johansson was visibly struggling in this game and its hard not to see how that contributed to his game-ending mistake. One more guy, Jason. I know you got some deals on deck. Take them off the back-burner and do them now. Give us a Christmas present. Even with this loss the Sabres are in a divisional playoff spot ahead of the Leafs. Perhaps the Sabres are higher up on the pecking order than they deserve but how about not? Why not this team? Why not go for the playoffs this year? I know you have a long-range plan looking toward the summer, Jason, but come on, these guys can make the playoffs with just a tiny bit more help. At this rate Jack might just drag them there; don’t make him do that. Send in reinforcements.

Now off to a Philadelphia Flyers team flying high on Gritty’s white dust tomorrow. Sure, that looks like a tough game but allow me to introduce you to a new thought. Us Sabres fans are always waiting for the wheels to come off. We look for it and when it happens we feel satisfied in that we predicted it would happen with the same old Sabres. But what if there was another question fans could ask that was less negative all the time. Here’s a clue: I’ve already asked it in this postgame. Instead of predicting how the wheels will come off here’s a new question to ask: WHY NOT? It’s better shouted than spoken. WHY NOT? Why not this team this season? Why not playoffs? Why not us? We’ve learned to ask this question with the Buffalo Bills this season as they’ve put together a nice record and made their playoffs. Let’s start asking it with the Sabres. Why not the Buffalo Sabres? Why not us? Well, how about you like, share and comment on this blog. The Bills making the playoffs give the Sabres a little cover for now. We’re a bit less grumpy about a loss to the Leafs than we normally would be, eh? I’m here for it. Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for Reading.

P.S. Tre White using his alma mater slot to say “Tre White Goalie Academy” has to put a smile on Carter Hutton’s face, right? Don’t we think Hutton could use some smiles these days?

#buffalo sabres #hockey #blog #NHL #Toronto Maple Leafs

[uncleyarn2-blog]

Ask Sam Mailbag: 12.28.18

I appreciated the comments on the defense. I thought the two things that made the game winnable against Orlando and Cleveland were Lauri's shooting and the team defense. It has happened a few times this year that this Bulls team played defense with the tenacity of a Thibs team, or the VanLier/Sloan/Love teams of yesteryear, and this was one of those times. It made the game fun to watch, and Lauri's shooting gave it a happy ending.

Kirk Landers

Sam: It's like buying a car. Sometimes you see a fancy model that looks impressive and then you take it for a test drive and it's not quite what you believed. That's often the way it is with sports in Chicago. It's like when the Bears hired Marc Trestman, the offensive guru. And things looked good for awhile and it made sense with the rules changes to open up the game. But that style doesn't fit everyone, and it doesn't fit Chicago. You know Monsters of the Midway and all that stuff. Our football onomatopoeia, Butkus and Ditka, names that sound like a tackle. And so it was for the Bulls as well. The NBA changed the rules to open up the game, increase scoring, limit interior contact, and the Bulls went along with the trend, reasonably enough since it seemed to be working well for the Golden State Warriors, and the Bulls hired Fred Hoiberg. But you could sense the ambivalence as the team drafted defensive oriented players like Bobby Portis, featured Jimmy Butler, drafted again a defensive player in Chandler Hutchison. Defense is in the team's DNA, in the city's DNA. So the Bulls gave the fancy fast sports car offense a whirl and it just didn't feel right. So they're going back to the pickup truck. It helps occasionally to have a Ferrari in the mix like Jordan or Rose, but the Bulls spear to be going back to the foundation with which they are comfortable to rebuild.

Well, Dunn has started to look like the guy we all thought and hoped he might be, finding his shot at the top of the key, getting good assist numbers and rebounds and low turnovers. Markkanen is a lock for All-Star maybe even next year. LaVine is going to average 20 ppg and Carter will be a nice 12 and 10 guy once he gets these fouls under control. It seems to me we need a SF and hopefully one of the 3 Duke guys to round out the starting rotation for the next few years and there isn't really a close second in need. Maybe risk a Bol Bol pick if he is there at 7 or so if this winning continues and we finish similar to last year.

Jack Donnelly

Sam: I guess just start printing the playoff tickets? I don't much follow the college draft yet other than late at night if I can't sleep I watch college basketball to see the repeat patterns and quickly fall asleep. Like everyone, I have seen the Duke players in their Hall of Fame enshrinement blazers, and they seem like they will not need to start in the G-league. Small forward is the obvious crater for the Bulls. Oh, right Jabari Parker? Never mind. Anyway, the way things are going the Bulls likely will have a high selection in this draft in which the teams with the five poorest records have similar odds for the top picks. The Bulls likely will explore free agency as well and I'm convinced they'll be able to add a good player not named Durant or Leonard. But more rests with Dunn. He is starting to put up impressive lines with a near triple double the last three or four games. He's still got plenty to learn as a point guard in quickly identifying mismatches, making quicker decisions and finding a longer shot. But he's done some terrific things and probably has the most reliable mid range shot on the team. With his long arms and movement, his pace looks a bit languid at times. The test comes now as he finally gets to play with LaVine and Markkanen, and has to make them better while not taking a step back of his own.

Dunn reminded everyone how effective & useful a mid-range game can be. His game has a distinctive 90's feel to it, but it would be masterful in any era.  Fun and satisfying to watch.  He's a better distributor than LaVine because he's a different player. Archidiacono is the most natural distributor on the roster right now.  A locked-in Dunn presents the other side-problems all over the place.  I need to see him do this for 40 games before I'm a believer though; fight through slumps and countermeasures. Love Harrison. Wish he could shoot. He reminds me of a younger, more athletic Keith Bogans.

Pete Zievers

Sam: I was able to make a Keith Bogans reference with Thibs before the Minnesota game when Thibs talked about that fun 2010-11 team. Two Bogans references in a week is always a good week. There is something to be said for that mid range game, and I'm actually glad to see that Dunn isn't forcing threes like so many players do. And shooting a layup when he's open rather than throwing out for a three. Can you believe how often they do that! I always remember the baseball third base coach yelling to the 5-4 second baseman swinging for the home run every time: “Remember who you are!” Dunn has done a good job of that. I would like to see him play with more pace, though that's not the style of the team for now. Again, the test should be coming with athletes like LaVine and Markkanen. The Bulls can get more of those easy scores with them; will they try?

In the short time I've seen LaVine and Dunn together on the court (which is minimal). I don't believe they can co-exist. LaVine is extremely high usage with a ton of questionable decision making and atrocious defense. On the other hand Dunn has high usage, but he's a lock down defender and shows when LaVine is not on the court he can be that go to guy and a great compliment to Markennen. If I had to choose one I would choose Dunn. Its not saying to trade LaVine, but I wouldn't be crying if Paxson decided to make a move to get players that were better fits with Markennen. Markennen seems to struggle more with LaVine as Zach holds the ball so much and either takes a contested shot or someone like Holiday or Markennen gets the ball with minimal time left and needs to rush the shot. I think there's been better ball movement since LaVine's been hurt and Parker has been bench. Should the bulls look towards more of Korver, Reddick type shooter to pair with Dunn long term. I like Hutchinson's potential as a future starting Small Forward. Someone like Cam Reddish would be a great fit opposite Dunn.

Rocky Rosado

Sam: Well, that was a quick look. Can we give them two starts together? I guess you can call me naive, but I still believe it's good to have more talent. Plus, I'm not sure fit is the priority when you're at the bottom of the conference. It's still, to me, about stacking talent and determining how it does. I don't see why the three of them can't work because they seem to get along and they don't appear to have personal agenda. Yes, LaVine likes to have the ball as a scorer, but you do need players who can make tough shots. He has shown he'll pass the ball. Which actually has been a problem because he often passes it to the other team. He'll get better at that playing with the same players in an actual rotation, which hasn't happened often. Markkanen has shown he can spot up and shoot when needed. He needs to regain some of that summer muscle he lost out two months with his injury. Plus, you don't have to post just a big man. Dunn and LaVine can post. Markkanen can grow into it. But you also need an inverted offense with Carter shooting. Thus far he's been too hesitant, but he's got a good stroke and I'm confident will be a good three-point shooter. They all need to get stronger and tougher, but so do most 22 and 23 year olds.

That 6-shot game may be the best thing that's happened to Lauri.  It pissed everybody off (and rightly so) to the point where they forced the ball to him... and he showed them what he can do, twice.  His 3-pt. range is murder, but I love those driving dunks.  Remember when we realized he was better than we'd thought?Well, now he's better than we thought then.  It's between Markkanen & Tatum for best of the 2017 draft, and we may not be sure which one for a few years.

Art Alenik

Sam: So let's take a look at that draft lottery again: Fultz, Ball, Tatum, Jackson, Fox, Isaac, Markkanen, Ntilikina, Smith Jr., Collins, Monk, Kennard, Mitchell, Adebayo. If you redid that draft today, you'd probably have Tatum first and Markkanen maybe second. Last season, the buzz was for Donovan Mitchell. But he's become more a volume shooter with a more limited game. Sure, still a great pick at No. 13, but maybe three or four. I always liked Fox, who is emerging as a top point guard. And that's probably the game's most important position these days. Maybe he could be two. But with Markkanen's height and versatility and growth possibilities, it's certainly reasonable to list him second and no worse than third or fourth. I know it's not a popular sentiment around Chicago these days with the redevelopment of the Bulls, and I'm sure many will suggest this merely is the web site defending its own, but they never ask me to do that, and for that I am appreciative. But this is a Bulls building project mostly through the draft, and it's a management that's done very well with low first round selections like Jimmy Butler and Bobby Portis and five-to-10 selections, which are not your no brainers, of Markkanen and Carter Jr. If you're building mostly in the draft, why would you want to have someone else making those picks?

Do you agree with Charles Barkley that Jokic should be a front runner or in the MVP conversation if Denver ends up #1

Gorav Raheja

Sam: Do you? Really? Charles is very entertaining and as good an ambassador for the NBA as you can have. Perhaps no one I've even known in the NBA is more approachable and personable. If they didn't name teddy bears for Teddy Roosevelt, they might be called Barkleys. But not a whole lot of the TV famous people who talk about the NBA on TNT and ESPN watch that much basketball. They played a lot, certainly. But being good at something doesn't mean you know how it works. I'm a heck of a driver of cars, but don't ask me to find the difference between the spark plug and the tire jack. I know it's popular to put former players on TV as analysts, though the reason most played was because of their fabulous skill. Not their fabulous analytical powers. It's a great talking point because the Nuggets have done well, but I see them more as a nice ensemble team with various contributors and he's one. I don't see Jokic in the top 20 in the league. Put it this way, I probably could name 20 players I'd rather have on my team. Just look at big men: You'd certainly want Embiid and Anthony Davis. I'd prefer Karl-Anthony Towns and most would have taken Cousins before his injury. He should come back. Harden, Westbrook, Curry, Durant, Antetokounmpo, LeBron, Kawki, Kyrie, Paul George. That's about a dozen and I can keep going. I'd probably take Klay Thompson, LaMarcus Aldridge; heck, I'd take rookie Ayton because I think he's going to be much better. Maybe even Jimmy Butler and Bradley Beal. There's no shame being say the 20th best, but, really, a league MVP? Not quite. He's good, but still a but slow for my taste.

You think benching Jabari Parker per game guarantees a victory? Okay, so we beat the Cavs by 20, that doesn't mean we're going to do that to every team, Jabari Parker was listed as available/Chandler becomes the backup Power Forward? So what happens if we play a much harder team than the Cavs/Chandler gets injured? What, we end up playing an even shorter guy? If Boylen isn't going to play Parker, he ought to get him traded. I like Jabari/don't like the fact he's not good at blocking/tends to hog the ball at times too, but this not allowing him to play when he's available is starting to bug me.

Kieron Smith

Sam: It's a conundrum wrapped in an enigma wrapped in.…, oh, forget it. The way the NBA works is the coach makes up the lineup. Management provides the players and the coach decides how to use them. The Bulls just changed coaches, so they have to allow Boylen ride it out like he wants. I understand his point that he's building a defensive-oriented team and needs those players, and those players need to see that if you aren't committed to defense, you're not going to be in the rotation; accountability and all that. I've been no fan of Parker, but he is a professional scorer and a physical player. He is coming off a second ACL injury and did play serious offense. I would like to see him get another chance given the paucity of scoring options, especially with the second unit with LaVine back to starting and Portis still out. But no one but a few readers is seeking my opinion on this.

What a great Christmas story! Everyone thought the Derrick Rose trade was a good one for the Bulls. No one ever imagined he would ever get close to his MVP level of play again. As a Bull, everyone thought he would be playing on Christmas Day for years to come. Now relegated to playing on Boxing Day, he comes out with a vintage prime time performance, carrying his new team and making me think he can still lead a team to a championship someday. Gotta love sports!

Guy Danilowitz

Sam: Yes, sports. That's been a wonderful story. You could probably make a great holiday movie about what life would have been like if he never were…Oh right, they did that. What we all should feel is good for Rose instead of what if. Like you said, no one saw this coming, and every team had a chance to bring him in after he was released by the Knicks and then Jazz (via The Land). It was the right deal for the Bulls at the time, and probably even more so with what Rose went through with injuries and absences in New York and Cleveland. We know Chicago never would have put up with that. So you have it right. It's just a wonderful life.

As a huge Derrick Rose fan, watching his highlights of his 50-point game literally brought tears to my eyes. The fact that he put up one of the biggest games of his career after everything he's been through is nothing short of amazing. The way he's passing, shooting, driving, and finishing without dunking, he looks fresher than he has in years. If he can continue to play at a high level for however many years he can still play do you see him being able to reach the hall of fame?

Trevor Bode

Sam: There was a debate in Chicago after Rose's terrific game against the Bulls this week about whether the Bulls should retire his number. That's debatable, though he certainly had a greater impact on the team and the game than Bob Love. The Bulls are sparing with jersey number retirements, but Rose if he gets through another year or two, or maybe even if he doesn't, should be in the Basketball Hall of Fame. I know it's popular with Rose's injuries and issues to say he'll be the only MVP not to make the Hall of Fame. But you can make the case he already is more accomplished than Bob McAdoo who won titles coming off the bench and, after all, what did Steve Nash ever win, and we know he'll be going in. First to the dismay of NBA enthusiasts, the Hall of Fame is about all basketball. Rose was a multiple state champion as a prep player and went to the final game of the NCAA tournament. So he succeeded at all levels. His career reminds me of that of Hall of Famer Bernard King, who was an elite scorer (never with great teams) who suffered an ACL tear and sat out two years and then came back and eventually made an All-Star team. Rose might the way he is playing, but he also could be in the running for Sixth Man or even Most Improved. Coming back to this level with multiple All-Star games, Rookie of the year and MVP on his resume is the stuff of the Basketball Hall of Fame.

When I get the chance to watch the Bulls on TV, I'm usually impressed with Stacey's knowledge and insight of the game.  I was wondering more along the lines of whether Stacey has been considered for a head coaching gig or if he's thought about throwing his hat?

Mark Basa

Sam: Be grateful that you can listen to Stacey on the broadcasts. He's one of the most knowledgeable on TV—especially for a former player—who isn't afraid to voice contrary opinions and have some fun with the broadcast with a wicked sense of humor. But coaching is a lot harder and more time consuming than you might think, involving exceptionally long days off watching film and working practices and schedules and endless annoying media questions. I think Stacey likes his position just fine. Though Chuck Swirsky tells me he could coach rings around Popovich.

Hypothetically you have a draft class of Lew/Kareem, Moses M., Wilt, Bill R.,Hakeem.  In today's NBA what would teams do with these all time players who probably would've never been capable of jacking up three pointers?   Also, can you foresee a new league formed  in which there was no three point shot and big man play was reemphasized?

Chiang Mai

Sam: First of all, the big man is not extinct in the NBA. It's a cycle, but you are seeing some terrific big men come into the NBA who are becoming dominant players, like Embiid, Towns and Ayton, I believe, will be. Plus, I think you need to have one to help fend off those who have them. Which is one reason Dallas is doing well. It's not just Doncic. Getting DeAndre Jordan (and allowing him to practice free throw shooting) has made a difference. You see with the Bulls the issues Wendell Carter Jr. has with some big guys, which eventually will require some offensive changes to take advantage of his shooting ability. But don't discount what those players could do. There wasn't much reason to shoot from 25 feet then since it was also worth two points. Why it's worth three points and not a great drop step move is another issue. But Kareem was a terrific shooter who easily could have moved out to the three-point line. Wilt used to shoot a 15 foot wing bank shot because he was bored scoring so easily inside. He could easily have moved farther out. Hakeem was an excellent shooter who made most of his jumpers barely in front of the short corner three. Russell, nah, but he was the quickest, smartest, most adept big man defender ever and you'd have won a championship without him making any threes. You didn't mention Bill Walton, who once made 21 of 22 shots mostly jumpers in an NCAA title game. There are some great big men still, though none better than any of them.

Source: https://www.nba.com/bulls/news/ask-sam-mailbag-122818

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Sunshine, pt1

Author’s Notes: @outside-the-government and I have been tossing this fic back and forth on google docs for the last week, and are finally at a place where we feel we can share it. For the record, I knocked her into the Christine Chapel trashcan a while ago. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied to be there on her own, and grabbed me by the throat and dragged me down with her.

Don’t forget to familiarize yourself with our casting of AOS Christine Chapel

This fic will contain shifting POV. @outside-the-government is writing the reader’s perspective, @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse is writing Christine’s. Hopefully it is easy to follow. 

Word Count: 1348

Before you start, be sure to read the conversation leading to this moment: Texts, pt 1, Christine Texts, pt 1, Reader Texts, pt 2, Christine Texts, pt 2, Reader Texts, pt 3, Christine Texts, pt 3, Reader 

Christine had never struggled with a decision about which pajamas to wear like she was currently struggling. Normally, she wore a t-shirt she’d stolen from Leonard and undies. That seemed a little more skin than might be appropriate, given she was supposed to be comforting her friend, not seducing her. The only other pajamas she had were a spaghetti strapped tank top and matching shorts. She tried to just add the shorts to the t-shirt, but her overwhelming sense of organization made her cringe at the scalloped hem on her pink shorts contrasting with Leonard’s threadbare academy t-shirt. She pulled the t-shirt off and pulled the tank top on, checking in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t wholly inappropriate. A little more side-boob than she was strictly comfortable with, but it would do.

To make sure it was clear she wasn’t attempting a rebound seduction, she padded into the bathroom and combed through her hair until it lay softly over her shoulders, still damp from her shower. She scrubbed the last of her make-up off, running through her entire nighttime ritual. Glancing in the mirror, she was pleased with what she saw - a slightly tired nurse ready for snacks, booze and some Jim Kirk bashing. Not a worldly seductress ready to woo her closest shipside friend during a period of heartbreak.

She tossed a couple blankets on the couch, and put tumblers out for the scotch. The erlenmeyer flask full of liquor made her laugh quietly to herself, but it was an appreciated gesture on Leonard’s part. The last time Christine Chapel had drank tequila, she had a vague recollection of completely dominating Leonard. Not that he’d complained, but they’d already had a coworkers-with-benefits arrangement by then. Chris did not need to risk terrifying Y/N by climbing onto her for a drunken lap dance.

There was a tentative knock on the door, and before Christine could call that it was open, Y/N came through the doors, holding a couple of pints of ice cream.

 You stood before your closet, contemplating your pajama collection.  You hadn’t picked up your laundry lately, so you didn’t have everything on hand, so your decision was made easier by limitation.  Plucking a pair of capri-length pajama pants and a tank top from the top shelf, you moved to the bathroom to change.

The reflection looking back at you in the mirror had seen better days.  Your eyes were reddened and puffy with all the tears you’d held back while you’d been at work and your expression was uncharacteristically grim.  You hadn’t been dating Jim for very long, but you’d already fallen madly for him.  His charm and intellect had pulled at your heartstrings and his easy confidence had cemented your attachment.  His kisses and caresses had helped, too.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself as you not-so-gently pulled a brush through your unruly locks before throwing them back into a loose, high ponytail.

Splashing some cool water on your face, you hoped the redness would fade from your eyes.  Giving yourself a once-over in the mirror, you were satisfied and you ventured out into your kitchenette, punching an order for ice cream into your replicator.  It took only moments for the machine to do its work and before long you were double-fisting the good stuff, shouldering your door open and making your way toward Christine’s quarters.

You found her room without incident and gave a clumsy rap on the door with your elbow, lacking hands what with the ice cream.  The panel slid aside for you as you tapped on the keypad and you stepped into Christine’s cozy, welcoming quarters, inhaling the light floral scent that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. 

“I brought sustenance,” you offered, holding out the ice cream.  “Salted caramel, as you wished.”

You smiled tiredly as you set the ice cream down on the counter, and your eyes raked her form in its cute little pajamas, her hair framing her face and making her look even softer and kinder than usual.  You hoped the hitch in your breathing at the sight of her was lost on her.

“It shouldn’t surprise me that you like to wear cute little numbers like those PJs to bed,” you said with a chuckle.  “Very nice!”

Christine nearly choked on absolutely nothing when Y/N commented on her pajamas. The flirtatious tone from their messaging earlier was still there, but Christine was more than convinced she was imagining it. Surely, Y/N wasn’t flirting, she chastised herself, and cursed autonomic bodily function as she felt her cheeks flush.

“Yeah, it was this or a ratty t-shirt I stole from Leonard once upon a time,” she excused, hoping it was vague enough that if Y/N was flirting it wouldn't stop her. “I don’t usually wear jammies, so I don’t have many.” Christine didn’t notice the way Y/N’s eyes widened at the confession, or track the moment too long it took her to respond.

“You and Leonard are very close,” Y/N commented, finally finding her voice. “It must be nice to get along so well with your boss.”

Christine fought back a scoff. Some details were probably better left unshared. “Mmm.” It was a non-committal noise at best. “Something like that. So? Ice cream and scotch? As mistakes go, this sounds like a great one to make” She pulled a couple of spoons out of the drawer in the kitchenette before pouring drinks. It was a little awkward sitting down beside her friend, the inner battle of needing to be a good friend at odds with the torch she was carrying for her, but after the she drained her glass the first time, the tension left her shoulders and began to feel settled. She felt more able to follow Y/N as she unburdened her heart about Jim without needing to jump in and comment, and was relaxed enough that she no longer felt awkward when Y/N needed to be held when she was suddenly weeping. Ultimately, she blamed their friendship and the scotch in equal parts for their calming effects.

Your third tumbler of scotch proved to be almost too relaxing and you were on the cusp of spilling more than just all of your deepest, darkest feelings about Jim and the breakup.  Your pint of ice cream stood half-eaten on the table, soupy from the ambient heat in the room, but your mind was far away from the treats anyway.  As you watched Christine relax, unwind, let go of some of her usual rigidness, you felt your cheeks flushing and you hoped that she chalked your coloration up to the alcohol.

As much as it relaxed you,, the alcohol also loosened your tongue and chipped away at your resolve and the tears came suddenly and without your conscious permission.  You hated crying in front of anyone, and you’d never cried in front of Christine before.  Even though she was your best friend you felt awkward, but her gentle embrace and soothing words were a balm on your frayed nerves.  You’d been glad for the comfort at first, but as the minutes dragged on, the feeling of Chris’ arms around you and her clean scent in your nose had worn away your restraint and you found yourself turning your head, nuzzling into her neck.

Your lips grazed her collarbone and you pulled back sharply at her intake of breath, your eyes wide, expression apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” you stuttered.  “I didn’t-”

Chris cut you off with a hand up and cleared her throat.

“I think I need some air,” she clipped.  “The scotch… I need to clear my head.”

She stood swiftly and turned on her heel, wobbling a little before steadying herself and briskly striding away, leaving you behind in her quarters.  Tears had immediately welled in your eyes again and you dropped your head into your hands, cursing yourself inwardly.  You hadn’t meant for it to happen, and you certainly hadn’t meant to drive Christine away, and yet you’d ruined everything.

#star trek imagine #imagine star trek #Christine Chapel x reader

[endlessinfinities-blog]

It’s Time To Move On

Even just those two little words ‘move on’ can make you feel like there is an aching inside of you. You are not quite sure what to do with them….take them, hold onto them or maybe just let go of them. Either way it drags you down the rabbit hole to ‘Wonderland’, a place none of us really know or none of us really want to venture when we are so comfortable in our own lives and where it is. However, letting go doesn’t mean giving up, but accepting that things cannot be the way they were. Sometimes, we have to accept that whatever life throws at us, it will lead us down a different path and inevitably leads you down one that means ending something that was originally amazing and made you happy.

Sometimes, we become so involved and wrapped up in our own bubble of a situation that ending it, completely drops us to the ground and is never something we are quite ready for. Instead, like a pin bursting a balloon, what we know and loved so well suddenly ends. Just like the pin, it can sometimes take something as tiny as a pin to end something, whether it be a relationship, a marriage, a friendship, but nevertheless the pain hurts the same. With time brings a new healing and a new acceptance. So, what was originally painful and didn’t make any sense to us whatsoever, suddenly turns into a new way of seeing the whole situation. Each of us when going through a significant change in our lives go through different stages.

The first stage, is the stage where confusion and hurt is the only thing you can actually think about. This stage brings many phone calls to your best friends, with you crying or completely venting down the phone, or brings along the tweets or Facebook comments of indirectly trying to hurt that person or telling them that you are hurting without actually telling them.

The second stage is anger. Anger, that you aren’t completely sure of where its origin is. Yet, it consumes you and every little thing that upsets you, you can turn it around and point it straight back to that person or situation.

The third stage is the rebound or the relapse. Whatever the situation, there is something or someone we, as a human, go back. It’s to the familiar thing that made us happy. Now, here the path can take us two different ways. The consequences can either be, complete and utter regret or can make you say to yourself, “okay, it happened, but I’m okay. We had a proper goodbye.”

The fourth stage is the moving on process. You stop talking to them, you cry, you are upset. Everything that you see, hear, smell all reminds you of them. Then you remember it’s over. But it’s okay, this is the grieving process. You miss them and the old times but then you remember not everything can last forever. Your friends comfort you and distract you and tell you that you will find someone 10x better. Sometimes you will, but other times its not necessarily better, that it means that the previous person was horrible to you, but that it is better for you both. Better that things move on, better that you both find someone else. The fifth and final stage is the realisation when you know you have completely moved on. You are no longer in love with them. Well, you don’t love them in the same way. But now, you can talk to them. You can tell them the things you used to and you can both be happy for each other.

For most of us, if not all, we want to reach that final stage as quickly as possible, and reach it without feeling the hurt and pain. But the hurt and pain that we feel, reminds us that we can love. That we have a heart and soul and as cringy as it sounds, that we, as humans, just want someone who wants us. “The whole worth of a kind deed lies in the love that inspired it.” This is by The Talmud, and inspired me to write this blog. For, through the hurt and pain, we can move forward. Grow, learn and mature, and remember that these times make us know what we want and what we don’t want.

Sometimes, you can no longer be the same with the person who once was the single most important factor in your life. But, other times you can still be friends. We can still be there for that person, because at the end of the day, if things just didn’t work out then a friendship that comes out at the end, is not a bad way for things to come out. If a friendship cant be the outcome, then life will move you towards something else. Someone else. New adventures and new turns in life. The important thing to remember is, Wonderland is always around the corner. We can go there whenever we want. Into the weird and wonderful world. Or we can go to Neverland, where we never grow up and life can continue to be as though we are still an innocent child.

It’s a new horizon.

#love #breakup #marriage #happyendings #moving on #life #movingon #friends #family #quotes #lovequotes #lifequotes #memories #forgetting #movingforward #nextchapter #newchapter #newstart #newlife #people #stages

[skeletonwoman]

RG: Landing (Pietro)

i honestly don’t know about this one. but i’ve written it, and i know there are a few Pietro fans out there so i’ll just post it and one day we can maybe pretend it doesn’t exist. ALSO THIS IS THE FINAL PART

“I hear that.” Clint laughs, shooting the duck while you clap.

“You hear nothing.” Natasha snarls at him, throwing another duck into the air while you clap and make it jerk erratically. “That’s a bullshit line anyway.”

“It’s alright, I suppose.” You shrug in defense, despite having woken with achy eyes and a stuffed nose.

“No.” Natasha snaps, expression sympathetic. “That’s not how this works, kid. Repeat after me, Pietro can take his head and shove it up his ass, let’s see him run then.”

You make a face, until she spears you with a glare and you repeat her words in a rushed mumble. But it doesn’t help. You’re still glad that he’s happy. Or he was when he left your room last night, with a casual friend confirmed and on his way to an exciting date.

“I looked her up.” You offer, just to drive your own knife deeper. “She’s adorable. Fluffy blonde hair and the kind of doe eyes that make you want to chase her through a forest at night.”

Clint tilts his head in a silent question and you kick the dirt.

“I want to see them filled with fear I mean.” You mumble, staring at the scuff of torn away grass and the pair snort, another arrow sailing free. “She has a nose that a plastic surgeon would kill to replicate. And she smells like warm paper.”

“We know.” Natasha groans, glaring at you and you shrug. It’s true. It’s probably a really nice smell. All you can really think about is imagining her smelling like mildew. “He acted like he was in love with you and one personal attack and he’s jumping some stats intern’s bones? That’s bullshit.”

“It does sound like a rebound.” Clint agrees, loosing another arrow and you pause your clapping as a shower of clay shards rain down.

“It doesn’t matter what it sounds like. If he’s happy then that’s okay. We’re friends now.” You manage, pretending your words aren’t choking you and giving them a convincing smile. Natasha glares and the expression withers.

The sun peaks over the trees and Steve lopes from them, grinning at the sight of your group.

“Hey!” He calls, all hopped up on endorphins as he jogs closer, smiling insanely at all of you individually.

“Captain.” You swallow, tipping your head a little and Natasha rolls her eyes, greeting him with a smile. You can’t help it. He’s old enough to be your grandpa, biologically, and physically, hot and large enough to intimidate you. Intimidate the hell out of you.

“Did you guys hear about Pietros date last night?” He offers the gossip to Clint and Natasha, likely unsure how you feel about the pastime. And he probably doesn’t want to force his attentions on you- Natasha had mentioned that he’d asked for advice about bringing you into the team.

“No. Tell us.” Natasha smirks, not looking at you and you shift closer to Clint, the true friend.

“He bombed. Heard him smacking his head against the wall myself. Apparently, the girl went to kiss him and he panicked, tried to run away and went straight into a sideshow game, toppled prizes and the tent. Water and ducks went everywhere.” He grins, “There’s actually an article on it on the MTV snap story thing.”

You hide your face in Clints shoulder to hold back your laughter, Clint making an approving noise of the man before him.

“Cosmopolitan is my favourite.”

Steve groans, agreeing vehemently and commenting sourly on the Daily Mail. Natasha stares at the pair for a moment before turning to you and offering you her hand and leading you away from them.

“I hate them all, Buzzfeed, Daily Mail, Brother.” She mutters bitterly, opening the door for you.

“I love you,” You gasp out and he stares, your shoulders slumped under the pressure. After the whole dilemma, the least you can do is come clean. He needs to know.

“Y/N.” He sighs and you flinch, your gaze pleading as he backs away from you. “I-”

“I brought you something.” You cut in, holding out the offering nervously and he frowns at it.

“What is it?”

“It’s tickets for a private screening.” You stammer, your hand jerking toward him and you’re almost ready to run, if you weren’t sure that’d be one of the biggest mistakes you could make. 

“Private screening for Bambi?”

“Yeah.” You sigh, kicking his carpet and trying your best apologetic puppy expression. Thor grins, filling up the space between the two of you in a single step and throwing himself around you, arms like elephant trunks.

“I love you too, young one.” He cheers, squeezing you delicately. “When is the show?”

“Wednesday.” You choke, breath short from the pressure and he laughs happily before he leans back and rests his paws on your shoulders.

“I am sorry we quarreled, perhaps we can watch other films sometimes.” He allows and you beam at him, shucking his shoulder happily.

It’s an hour before he lets you head out to breakfast and you already feel like you’ve lived an entire day.

“Maxim-off your game!” Sam calls to Pietro, tone congratulatory as the young man stands in the doorway, expectant.

“Should’ve done the chicken neck. Or just ducked.” Clint smirks tauntingly and you grind the heel of your pumps into his toes.

“Don’t.” You warn Scott as he opens his mouth and he pauses, nodding in agreement. Probably right.

Pietro slides into the seat beside you, stealing the bowl of cereal before you. Your eyebrows rise and he smirks as he scoops a spoonful into his mouth. “At least get another spoon.”

Cold presses into your fingers in an instant and you grin at the spoon tucked there, the only evidence to his involvement being your disrupted hair.

“Thanks.” You grin around a mouth full of cereal and he grins back, exactly the same.

“Oh my God.” Tony whispers, about to sit down and you wink at him. You’re unsurprised when he backs back out and takes his plate elsewhere. Pietros knee knocks yours and you turn to him, eyes still a little unfocused and thinking about Tony when warm lips press against yours.

Your head jerks in surprise, forehead smacking against his and the both of you rebounding backwards, hissing.

“What the f*ck?” You hiss in unison, glaring at each other accusingly. Your teeth grind together as you wait him out, watching him do the exact same to you.

“Why did you kiss me?” You finally break, the tension in the room thick and the spectators watching with bated breath.

“Why did you freak out?” Pietro accuses, not smirking- instead looking like he’s ready to bolt. Below the table, you can feel his leg bouncing a hundred miles a minute and your brows furrow.

“Pietro.” You sigh, your hand reaching out and laying on his wrist, the gentle touch bringing his shoulders forward in a small slump.

“Y/N.” He mumbles, meeting your eyes from his hung head, a small spark still in them showing that you’re supposed to answer the question first, even if you’d asked first.

With a soft growl, your eyes dart around the table. Sam stares openly, Scott trying to pretend he’s eating but you know there’s nothing in his mouth, and Clint is texting, eyes glued to the pair of you. Your eyes return to Pietro, whose gaze darts away as he licks his lips before rising and offering you his hand.

“What’d I miss?” Natasha bursts in as Pietro picks you up and the pair of you escape the crowd. You’re unsurprised when you end up in your room, the main stage.

“Wanna f*ck?” You ask thoughtlessly, staring at the bed and a loud thud sounds, Pietro teetering, your desk chair halfway across the room with its wheels still rolling and you stare.

“Yes. Yes, we should.” He chokes out, stammering as he regains his balance and you grin, a soft giggle working past your lips.

“If you give me a decent reason why you kissed me, I’ll take off all my clothes, then all your clothes.” You promise and he swallows, watching you and you wait as the wheels work.

“I’m in love with you. And I wanted to know what’d be like to kiss a girl you’re in love with – by the way, it sucked.” He smirks and your heart thumps hard, despite the ending. “And you were a real bitch before but I get it. And Rose just made me uncomfortable. You don’t.”

Your head tilts, as his fumbling explanation finishes, watching him wince. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

You nod, grinning as you slip your shirt over your head, kicking off your heels and shimmying out of your shorts.

“I know this looks awfully unromantic, but I’m being practical.” You explain, leaning down and picking up the clothes to throw in the hamper and he groans. “You’re one of those guys who like to tear things, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” He croaks, suddenly behind you, his voice thick and hands warm.

“Well.” You smirk, leaning back against him and meeting his gaze over your shoulder. “You going to get undressed too?”

done diddly un.

#pietro maximoff #pietro x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro fic #pietro imagine #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro fanfiction #pietro maximoff fanfiction #avengers imagine #avengers #avengers fic #marvel

[n1nj4-l0v4]

‘I didn’t know who I was anymore’: Cancer’s social stress hits young adults hard

(CNN)Alex Marshall was a freshman in college when she had her first cancer scare.

Intense chest pain and difficulty breathing were serious alarms for the swimmer at Queens University of Charlotte in North Carolina. Her training came to a halt when she ended up in the hospital — for 10 days.

With the hallmark symptoms of a Hodgkin’s lymphoma diagnosis, Marshall and her family feared the worst, but doctors determined that a severe case of mononucleosis was the cause of her problems.

“I was released from the hospital, and I was like, ‘OK, we dodged a bullet. It wasn’t cancer,’ ” said Marshall, now 22. The mass in her chest that was causing her pain and other symptoms was covered in the highly contagious Epstein-Barr virus, best known as the cause of mononucleosis.

Two years later, while pursuing a more rigorous academic schedule and training for the Canadian Olympic trials through dual citizenship on her father’s side, Marshall began to notice more breathing problems and what seemed likea lingering cold.

“I just played it off, because I was getting cold-like symptoms, and then I would just get over it. And it would come back again two to three weeks later. I dealt with that all of summer.”

Come fall, the familiar pain in her chest returned.

Despite the pain and difficulty breathing, her performance in the water did not suffer. Coach Jeff Dugdale saw no signs of health problems in the water but instead was impressed with her performances. “I remember to this day; it was the last weekend of September when we were swimming (at) Auburn. She had one of her best meets where she got her best time.”

Still, the complaints prompted Dugdale to send Marshall to the campus wellness center, where staff referred her to a specialist. The days that followed included an X-ray, a MRI and a biopsy of a mass in her chest. Alex had symptoms that suggested Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a form of cancer that invades the bodies white blood cells and weakens the immune system.

“Monday rolled around, and I hadn’t heard anything, nothing,” she said. “I texted my family group chat, ‘I haven’t heard anything. It’s 5 o’clock; we should’ve heard something by now.’ ” Her messages were met with encouragement to be patient and that everything would be OK.

But when her parents showed up at her door 30 minutes later, she instantly knew that her test had confirmed their biggest fear: a diagnosis of Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

“I didn’t hear a word,” she said, “it was like the adults in those Charlie Brown movies. Nothing they said made any sense.”

‘Different than other patients’

According to the National Institutes of Health, most new cases of cancer are found in people over the age of 55, but young adults are more likely than either young children or older adults to be diagnosed with certain cancers, including Hodgkin’s lymphoma. And for the adolescent and young adult population, cancer is the leading cause of disease-related death.

Adolescence and young adulthood are already transitional phases that bring unique age-related challenges. Being diagnosed with cancer during this time can be especially trying. The social difficulties faced by this group were highlighted in a study recently published in Cancer, a journal of the American Cancer Society.

The question researchers wanted to answer: Compared with cancer-free peers, how were patients in the adolescent and young adult population affected by a cancer diagnosis?

Over two years, cancer patients ages 14 to 39 self-reported their social functioning.

Researchers found that one in three young cancer patients experienced lower social functioning than their peers. Additionally, although there were improvements in the first year after diagnosis, after two years, social functioning was still worse than that of the general population.

“The cancer diagnosis in this age range is really impactful, not just at the time of diagnosis but through treatment and beyond treatment,” said study co-author Dr. Brandon Hayes-Lattin, a professor at Oregon Health and Science University.

Marshall immediately felt the impact of her diagnosis. “Day one, I was really upset,” she said. “I was thrown into the spotlight of ‘cancer girl,’ and I wasn’t quite ready for that. I didn’t really want that.”

Her feelings of depression and isolation were similar to those of study patients who reported their lowest scores of social functioning at the time of their diagnosis.

Fueling those emotions and confusion, in part, was the lack of immediate changes to her appearance. “I still had my hair. I didn’t really feel different, because when I looked in the mirror, I saw my old self looking back at me, and I still felt great.”

That all changed when she began chemotherapy and experienced the common side effects of weight and hair loss. The champion swimmer fought hard to stay in shape and refused to let the drugs deplete her.

“There were two weeks between each session, and once she rebounded, she would do leg lifts or walk around the block,” said her mother, Lucia Marshall. “Sometimes,we’d walk around together, and she’d hold on to my arm because she was too weak to stand on her own. She never gave up. Even though she was going through this, she wanted to exercise.”

Cancer, Hayes-Lattin notes, can disrupt more than a patient’s daily routine. It changes relationships with peers and how a person functions in school and work. Swimming and fitness, for Marshall, occupied a large part of her life and her identity. “Cancer can throw a wrench in that to a substantial degree,” Hayes-Lattin said.

“What makes it challenging for adolescent and young adult patients that’s different from younger patients and older patients is that there are some really unique things that face this group,” said Dr. David Freyer, director of the children’s center for cancer and blood diseases at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, one of five institutions involved in the new study. “You think about where they are. They’re life planning and in developmental life stages.”

Winning in and out of the pool

While she was home, her coaches wanted Marshall to focus on her recovery.

“My promise to her was, ‘if we win the national championship and you win your championship, we’re going to put “we kicked cancer’s ass” inside of our national championship rings,’ ” Dugdale said.

And they did just that. On March 12, 2016, the Royals men and women’s swim teams claimed the NCAA championship for the second consecutive year, and 12 days later — surrounded by family, friends and teammates — Marshall completed her final treatment. “The very next day, she was in the water,” her mother said.

The next phase and transition, from patient to survivor, presented new challenges.

See the latest news and share your comments with CNN Health on Facebook and Twitter.

“That last day of my chemotherapy treatment, it was really exciting. I rang my victory bell, and I was cancer-free. But I think that’s when people kinda cut everything off,” Marshall said. ” ”You’re cancer-free now. You’re done with treatment. Go back to your old life.’ But that’s not the case at all. I had never felt so lost or confused in my entire life. I didn’t know who I was anymore.”

The struggle with that transition is a sign that “we’re not doing the best we can,” said Dr. Timothy Griffin, chief of hematology/oncology at the Children’s Hospital of San Antonio, another of the institutions involved in the new study.

“You really need to have the care managers, social workers, behavioral medicine specialists, licensed counselors or psychiatrists,” he said. “Those people need to be involved in the patient too so they can support the nonmedical part.”

Marshall saw therapists both while undergoing treatment and during her transition to life in recovery. She says the assistance really helped during the challenging time.

Marshall tried to find some normalcy and returned to the pool. “I felt like I was gaining (my) identity back more and more each day and less of the cancer girl. It was nice to go back to old activities that I did such as swimming. So that helped navigating my survivorship a bit more in my favor.”

In her third appearance competing for a national title, she surpassed expectations with a second-place finish in the 50-yard freestyle, helping the team take home its third consecutive title.

“She gets second place at NCAA,” Dugdale said. “She gets her best time, which was pretty amazing considering she didn’t have much to lose.”

But she did have something to lose. That race was paramount in helping Marshall find normalcy.

Post-cancer, the swimmer is focused on finishing college and chasing another title.

Of course, not everyone needs another championship ring to feel like themselves again. There were other things that helped along the way.

“It sounds super cheesy,” Marshall said of what helps her during the toughest moments, “but having my dog helped me through a lot of my struggles. He would always make me feel better.”

Read more: http://www.cnn.com/2017/04/07/health/college-swimmer-cancer-social-study-profile/index.html

from https://www.makingthebest.com/2017/04/12/i-didnt-know-who-i-was-anymore-cancers-social-stress-hits-young-adults-hard/

[saintofsunflowers]

‘I didn’t know who I was anymore’: Cancer’s social stress hits young adults hard

(CNN)Alex Marshall was a freshman in college when she had her first cancer scare.

Intense chest pain and difficulty breathing were serious alarms for the swimmer at Queens University of Charlotte in North Carolina. Her training came to a halt when she ended up in the hospital — for 10 days.

With the hallmark symptoms of a Hodgkin’s lymphoma diagnosis, Marshall and her family feared the worst, but doctors determined that a severe case of mononucleosis was the cause of her problems.

“I was released from the hospital, and I was like, ‘OK, we dodged a bullet. It wasn’t cancer,’ ” said Marshall, now 22. The mass in her chest that was causing her pain and other symptoms was covered in the highly contagious Epstein-Barr virus, best known as the cause of mononucleosis.

Two years later, while pursuing a more rigorous academic schedule and training for the Canadian Olympic trials through dual citizenship on her father’s side, Marshall began to notice more breathing problems and what seemed likea lingering cold.

“I just played it off, because I was getting cold-like symptoms, and then I would just get over it. And it would come back again two to three weeks later. I dealt with that all of summer.”

Come fall, the familiar pain in her chest returned.

Despite the pain and difficulty breathing, her performance in the water did not suffer. Coach Jeff Dugdale saw no signs of health problems in the water but instead was impressed with her performances. “I remember to this day; it was the last weekend of September when we were swimming (at) Auburn. She had one of her best meets where she got her best time.”

Still, the complaints prompted Dugdale to send Marshall to the campus wellness center, where staff referred her to a specialist. The days that followed included an X-ray, a MRI and a biopsy of a mass in her chest. Alex had symptoms that suggested Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a form of cancer that invades the bodies white blood cells and weakens the immune system.

“Monday rolled around, and I hadn’t heard anything, nothing,” she said. “I texted my family group chat, ‘I haven’t heard anything. It’s 5 o’clock; we should’ve heard something by now.’ ” Her messages were met with encouragement to be patient and that everything would be OK.

But when her parents showed up at her door 30 minutes later, she instantly knew that her test had confirmed their biggest fear: a diagnosis of Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

“I didn’t hear a word,” she said, “it was like the adults in those Charlie Brown movies. Nothing they said made any sense.”

‘Different than other patients’

According to the National Institutes of Health, most new cases of cancer are found in people over the age of 55, but young adults are more likely than either young children or older adults to be diagnosed with certain cancers, including Hodgkin’s lymphoma. And for the adolescent and young adult population, cancer is the leading cause of disease-related death.

Adolescence and young adulthood are already transitional phases that bring unique age-related challenges. Being diagnosed with cancer during this time can be especially trying. The social difficulties faced by this group were highlighted in a study recently published in Cancer, a journal of the American Cancer Society.

The question researchers wanted to answer: Compared with cancer-free peers, how were patients in the adolescent and young adult population affected by a cancer diagnosis?

Over two years, cancer patients ages 14 to 39 self-reported their social functioning.

Researchers found that one in three young cancer patients experienced lower social functioning than their peers. Additionally, although there were improvements in the first year after diagnosis, after two years, social functioning was still worse than that of the general population.

“The cancer diagnosis in this age range is really impactful, not just at the time of diagnosis but through treatment and beyond treatment,” said study co-author Dr. Brandon Hayes-Lattin, a professor at Oregon Health and Science University.

Marshall immediately felt the impact of her diagnosis. “Day one, I was really upset,” she said. “I was thrown into the spotlight of ‘cancer girl,’ and I wasn’t quite ready for that. I didn’t really want that.”

Her feelings of depression and isolation were similar to those of study patients who reported their lowest scores of social functioning at the time of their diagnosis.

Fueling those emotions and confusion, in part, was the lack of immediate changes to her appearance. “I still had my hair. I didn’t really feel different, because when I looked in the mirror, I saw my old self looking back at me, and I still felt great.”

That all changed when she began chemotherapy and experienced the common side effects of weight and hair loss. The champion swimmer fought hard to stay in shape and refused to let the drugs deplete her.

“There were two weeks between each session, and once she rebounded, she would do leg lifts or walk around the block,” said her mother, Lucia Marshall. “Sometimes,we’d walk around together, and she’d hold on to my arm because she was too weak to stand on her own. She never gave up. Even though she was going through this, she wanted to exercise.”

Cancer, Hayes-Lattin notes, can disrupt more than a patient’s daily routine. It changes relationships with peers and how a person functions in school and work. Swimming and fitness, for Marshall, occupied a large part of her life and her identity. “Cancer can throw a wrench in that to a substantial degree,” Hayes-Lattin said.

“What makes it challenging for adolescent and young adult patients that’s different from younger patients and older patients is that there are some really unique things that face this group,” said Dr. David Freyer, director of the children’s center for cancer and blood diseases at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, one of five institutions involved in the new study. “You think about where they are. They’re life planning and in developmental life stages.”

Winning in and out of the pool

While she was home, her coaches wanted Marshall to focus on her recovery.

“My promise to her was, ‘if we win the national championship and you win your championship, we’re going to put “we kicked cancer’s ass” inside of our national championship rings,’ ” Dugdale said.

And they did just that. On March 12, 2016, the Royals men and women’s swim teams claimed the NCAA championship for the second consecutive year, and 12 days later — surrounded by family, friends and teammates — Marshall completed her final treatment. “The very next day, she was in the water,” her mother said.

The next phase and transition, from patient to survivor, presented new challenges.

See the latest news and share your comments with CNN Health on Facebook and Twitter.

“That last day of my chemotherapy treatment, it was really exciting. I rang my victory bell, and I was cancer-free. But I think that’s when people kinda cut everything off,” Marshall said. ” ”You’re cancer-free now. You’re done with treatment. Go back to your old life.’ But that’s not the case at all. I had never felt so lost or confused in my entire life. I didn’t know who I was anymore.”

The struggle with that transition is a sign that “we’re not doing the best we can,” said Dr. Timothy Griffin, chief of hematology/oncology at the Children’s Hospital of San Antonio, another of the institutions involved in the new study.

“You really need to have the care managers, social workers, behavioral medicine specialists, licensed counselors or psychiatrists,” he said. “Those people need to be involved in the patient too so they can support the nonmedical part.”

Marshall saw therapists both while undergoing treatment and during her transition to life in recovery. She says the assistance really helped during the challenging time.

Marshall tried to find some normalcy and returned to the pool. “I felt like I was gaining (my) identity back more and more each day and less of the cancer girl. It was nice to go back to old activities that I did such as swimming. So that helped navigating my survivorship a bit more in my favor.”

In her third appearance competing for a national title, she surpassed expectations with a second-place finish in the 50-yard freestyle, helping the team take home its third consecutive title.

“She gets second place at NCAA,” Dugdale said. “She gets her best time, which was pretty amazing considering she didn’t have much to lose.”

But she did have something to lose. That race was paramount in helping Marshall find normalcy.

Post-cancer, the swimmer is focused on finishing college and chasing another title.

Of course, not everyone needs another championship ring to feel like themselves again. There were other things that helped along the way.

“It sounds super cheesy,” Marshall said of what helps her during the toughest moments, “but having my dog helped me through a lot of my struggles. He would always make me feel better.”

Read more: http://www.cnn.com/2017/04/07/health/college-swimmer-cancer-social-study-profile/index.html

from https://www.makingthebest.com/2017/04/12/i-didnt-know-who-i-was-anymore-cancers-social-stress-hits-young-adults-hard/

[txny-archxr]

‘I didn’t know who I was anymore’: Cancer’s social stress hits young adults hard

(CNN)Alex Marshall was a freshman in college when she had her first cancer scare.

Intense chest pain and difficulty breathing were serious alarms for the swimmer at Queens University of Charlotte in North Carolina. Her training came to a halt when she ended up in the hospital — for 10 days.

With the hallmark symptoms of a Hodgkin’s lymphoma diagnosis, Marshall and her family feared the worst, but doctors determined that a severe case of mononucleosis was the cause of her problems.

“I was released from the hospital, and I was like, ‘OK, we dodged a bullet. It wasn’t cancer,’ ” said Marshall, now 22. The mass in her chest that was causing her pain and other symptoms was covered in the highly contagious Epstein-Barr virus, best known as the cause of mononucleosis.

Two years later, while pursuing a more rigorous academic schedule and training for the Canadian Olympic trials through dual citizenship on her father’s side, Marshall began to notice more breathing problems and what seemed likea lingering cold.

“I just played it off, because I was getting cold-like symptoms, and then I would just get over it. And it would come back again two to three weeks later. I dealt with that all of summer.”

Come fall, the familiar pain in her chest returned.

Despite the pain and difficulty breathing, her performance in the water did not suffer. Coach Jeff Dugdale saw no signs of health problems in the water but instead was impressed with her performances. “I remember to this day; it was the last weekend of September when we were swimming (at) Auburn. She had one of her best meets where she got her best time.”

Still, the complaints prompted Dugdale to send Marshall to the campus wellness center, where staff referred her to a specialist. The days that followed included an X-ray, a MRI and a biopsy of a mass in her chest. Alex had symptoms that suggested Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a form of cancer that invades the bodies white blood cells and weakens the immune system.

“Monday rolled around, and I hadn’t heard anything, nothing,” she said. “I texted my family group chat, ‘I haven’t heard anything. It’s 5 o’clock; we should’ve heard something by now.’ ” Her messages were met with encouragement to be patient and that everything would be OK.

But when her parents showed up at her door 30 minutes later, she instantly knew that her test had confirmed their biggest fear: a diagnosis of Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

“I didn’t hear a word,” she said, “it was like the adults in those Charlie Brown movies. Nothing they said made any sense.”

‘Different than other patients’

According to the National Institutes of Health, most new cases of cancer are found in people over the age of 55, but young adults are more likely than either young children or older adults to be diagnosed with certain cancers, including Hodgkin’s lymphoma. And for the adolescent and young adult population, cancer is the leading cause of disease-related death.

Adolescence and young adulthood are already transitional phases that bring unique age-related challenges. Being diagnosed with cancer during this time can be especially trying. The social difficulties faced by this group were highlighted in a study recently published in Cancer, a journal of the American Cancer Society.

The question researchers wanted to answer: Compared with cancer-free peers, how were patients in the adolescent and young adult population affected by a cancer diagnosis?

Over two years, cancer patients ages 14 to 39 self-reported their social functioning.

Researchers found that one in three young cancer patients experienced lower social functioning than their peers. Additionally, although there were improvements in the first year after diagnosis, after two years, social functioning was still worse than that of the general population.

“The cancer diagnosis in this age range is really impactful, not just at the time of diagnosis but through treatment and beyond treatment,” said study co-author Dr. Brandon Hayes-Lattin, a professor at Oregon Health and Science University.

Marshall immediately felt the impact of her diagnosis. “Day one, I was really upset,” she said. “I was thrown into the spotlight of ‘cancer girl,’ and I wasn’t quite ready for that. I didn’t really want that.”

Her feelings of depression and isolation were similar to those of study patients who reported their lowest scores of social functioning at the time of their diagnosis.

Fueling those emotions and confusion, in part, was the lack of immediate changes to her appearance. “I still had my hair. I didn’t really feel different, because when I looked in the mirror, I saw my old self looking back at me, and I still felt great.”

That all changed when she began chemotherapy and experienced the common side effects of weight and hair loss. The champion swimmer fought hard to stay in shape and refused to let the drugs deplete her.

“There were two weeks between each session, and once she rebounded, she would do leg lifts or walk around the block,” said her mother, Lucia Marshall. “Sometimes,we’d walk around together, and she’d hold on to my arm because she was too weak to stand on her own. She never gave up. Even though she was going through this, she wanted to exercise.”

Cancer, Hayes-Lattin notes, can disrupt more than a patient’s daily routine. It changes relationships with peers and how a person functions in school and work. Swimming and fitness, for Marshall, occupied a large part of her life and her identity. “Cancer can throw a wrench in that to a substantial degree,” Hayes-Lattin said.

“What makes it challenging for adolescent and young adult patients that’s different from younger patients and older patients is that there are some really unique things that face this group,” said Dr. David Freyer, director of the children’s center for cancer and blood diseases at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, one of five institutions involved in the new study. “You think about where they are. They’re life planning and in developmental life stages.”

Winning in and out of the pool

While she was home, her coaches wanted Marshall to focus on her recovery.

“My promise to her was, ‘if we win the national championship and you win your championship, we’re going to put “we kicked cancer’s ass” inside of our national championship rings,’ ” Dugdale said.

And they did just that. On March 12, 2016, the Royals men and women’s swim teams claimed the NCAA championship for the second consecutive year, and 12 days later — surrounded by family, friends and teammates — Marshall completed her final treatment. “The very next day, she was in the water,” her mother said.

The next phase and transition, from patient to survivor, presented new challenges.

See the latest news and share your comments with CNN Health on Facebook and Twitter.

“That last day of my chemotherapy treatment, it was really exciting. I rang my victory bell, and I was cancer-free. But I think that’s when people kinda cut everything off,” Marshall said. ” ”You’re cancer-free now. You’re done with treatment. Go back to your old life.’ But that’s not the case at all. I had never felt so lost or confused in my entire life. I didn’t know who I was anymore.”

The struggle with that transition is a sign that “we’re not doing the best we can,” said Dr. Timothy Griffin, chief of hematology/oncology at the Children’s Hospital of San Antonio, another of the institutions involved in the new study.

“You really need to have the care managers, social workers, behavioral medicine specialists, licensed counselors or psychiatrists,” he said. “Those people need to be involved in the patient too so they can support the nonmedical part.”

Marshall saw therapists both while undergoing treatment and during her transition to life in recovery. She says the assistance really helped during the challenging time.

Marshall tried to find some normalcy and returned to the pool. “I felt like I was gaining (my) identity back more and more each day and less of the cancer girl. It was nice to go back to old activities that I did such as swimming. So that helped navigating my survivorship a bit more in my favor.”

In her third appearance competing for a national title, she surpassed expectations with a second-place finish in the 50-yard freestyle, helping the team take home its third consecutive title.

“She gets second place at NCAA,” Dugdale said. “She gets her best time, which was pretty amazing considering she didn’t have much to lose.”

But she did have something to lose. That race was paramount in helping Marshall find normalcy.

Post-cancer, the swimmer is focused on finishing college and chasing another title.

Of course, not everyone needs another championship ring to feel like themselves again. There were other things that helped along the way.

“It sounds super cheesy,” Marshall said of what helps her during the toughest moments, “but having my dog helped me through a lot of my struggles. He would always make me feel better.”

Read more: http://www.cnn.com/2017/04/07/health/college-swimmer-cancer-social-study-profile/index.html

from https://www.makingthebest.com/2017/04/12/i-didnt-know-who-i-was-anymore-cancers-social-stress-hits-young-adults-hard/