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wellthatjusthappend · 3 years

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hey do you think you can write something where Dick is touch starved bc the members of the batfamily are not that into giving or receiving comforting touch like hugs so he's feeling awful and acting kind of distant with the other bats bc he doesn't really want to bug them by asking for a hug and it's Jason that notices something is wrong and ends up giving it to him

Dick being touch starved is my jam. Especially when I get to give him what he needs.

Man, this prompt got away from me a little, I meant to do a small fill but, well, now you can read it here or on Ao3.

“What the hell is going on with Dickhead?” Jason grumbled. He’d totally cashed Jason’s case recently, and nearly bit off Jason’s head when he made a sarcastic quip.

Usually, that meant that something had happened, but Jason had dug around after hadn’t found anything other than a slow and steady escalation of violence the last several weeks. Seemingly from no cause.

There had to be something Jason was missing. Not that he cared or anything, but if Golden Boy was falling off the edge he needed to get ready. Or maybe he was just being nosy. Both were Bruce approved approaches.

Jason frowned as on screen Dick let several punches land that he could have avoided and choose to punch back rather than use his sticks.

“Ah, Dick is fasting again?” hummed Kori, coming to curl up next to Jason like a cat, her hair winding and winding itself around them in a way that still a little uncanny as it was soothing.

“Fasting?” Jason asked with a frown, “Like, skipping meals and stuff?”

“From love,” Kori corrected him, “and from touch. He needs it like food, but sometimes he chooses to deprive himself of both for long periods of time. He would get like this from time to time as a Titian. Quick to pick a fight and extra physical when he did… violence is the only touch he allows himself during this time, so he seeks it out constantly.”

That… tracked.

“Yeah… Bruce would have us believe that none of us needed things like that,” Jason murmured, watching Dick wrestle another small time crook to the ground and punching him repeatedly.

“But you know better now, don’t you?”

Sometimes. But other times… Jason could sympathize with Dick’s plight a little too easily, and physical touch wasn’t even his love language.

“How’d you used to get him to snap out of it?” Jason asked.

“Make love to him all night long,” Kori replied, her eyes going distant.

“Ah.” Jason knew he was flushing a bit.

“Or, sometimes Wally or the others would insist on a movie night and coax him into a spot close between everyone’s bodies,” Kori said, a faint, sad smile on her face.

That was probably no little feat when Dick was hellbent on acting like a mini Bruce.

“Sounds nice,” he said, rather than unload all the mean and bitter commentary in his head. It wasn’t like he had someone to do that for him back then.

“This is nice too,” Kori rested her head on his shoulder, “with you and Roy.”

“...Yeah. It is.”

*****

Jason couldn’t stop thinking about it as the week went on. How he ever ended up with nonviolent touch in his life and Dick didn’t, Jason didn’t know.

Maybe that was why he was outside Dick’s doorstep now.

“What?” Dick answered his door. He looked terrible; dark shadows under his eyes, his skin a little pasty.

“No hello? I’m hurt Dickiebird.”

“Hello. What are you doing here?” Dick said, already looking annoyed.

Jason wished he knew.

“Brought over some extra food. You look like you haven’t had anything but takeout in a while, so…. You want it?” Jason held up the bag to show him.

“You brought food,” Dick stated, looking suspicious, “Why?”

“I just said I made extra, keep up Dickhead,” Jason shot back.

He was no good at this. He should have just bothered Wally into visiting. Someone who could get away with a casual hug.

Jason was not much of a hugger, casual or otherwise. He wasn’t too touchy-feely in general and he didn’t know why he was there… but since he was there he wasn’t going to be driven away so easily.

“Did Bruce send you here?” Dick demanded.

“Bold of you to think Bruce can make me do anything,” Jason retorted.

Dick seemed to accept that. As he should.

“Fine, whatever, just… you didn’t drug it, right?” Dick asked as he moved out of the way and let Jason inside.

“Who the fuck do you think I am, Alfred? If I was gonna drug you, I would slip it into your delivery, not some home cooked meal,” Jason scoffed.

It was really messy. It made Jason’s fingers itch for some cleaning supplies, but that wasn’t why he was there.

“Home cooked?” Dick’s eyebrows raised curiously.

“Curry,” Jason said, pulling out the containers from the bag in the little spot on the table not covered in case files, “I always thought it tasted better the day after anyway.”

“Did you make this?” Dick hesitantly came over, curiosity seeming to win out over defensive aggression.

“Who else would have?” Jason rolled his eyes, “here, heat this up will you?”

He passed over a container of rice. Their fingers brushed and Dick’s hand spasmed for a moment.

Jason didn’t comment. He knew what that was like. Going so long without any kind of touch that the slightest brush of skin felt like getting electrocuted.

“Why me?” Dick asked, hurriedly turning his back to him and fiddling with the microwave.

Because you need it.

“Oh, you know, if your ass gets any skinnier, the community will collapse on itself. Can’t have that,” Jason said breezily instead.

“What a saint.”

“Right? They should put me up in the little chapel on 5th St. I’ve already died and everything, I’m totally qualified,” Jason said, then changed the subject, “You have a toaster oven?”

“Why would I have a toaster oven?” Dick grumbled.

“Because they’re damn useful? Never mind, I’ll just use the oven,” Jason said, nudging Dick out of the way so he could reach the nobs. It wouldn’t need too much, it was just to lightly heat the naan.

“Are you eating here too?” Dick asked hesitantly.

“Might as well, it’s dinner time,” Jason shrugged.

Dick didn’t say anything to that. This time when Jason passed him the next container to heat, he didn’t flinch when their hands met, but he pulled away much more hesitantly.

This part felt a little unnatural for Jason, because he… didn’t really let people touch him who weren’t super close to him. And he and Dick- they just weren’t. It wasn’t bad, per-say, just decidedly uncomfortable.

He wasn’t planning to let that show though.

Jason bullied Dick into bantering with him as they prepped the rest of the food, all the while finding reasons to brush up against him. Let their hips touch when he checked the heat on the food, a hand on Dick’s arm to move him out of the way to open the oven, steading his hands as he stacked plates and utensils into his arms.

Dick was mostly past the shockieness and onto the needy phase by the time they got to actually eating the food. It felt a little manipulative to sit down right next to him on the couch while they ate so their legs and arms could casually brush every now and then.

The nice thing was that Jason didn’t have to initiate anymore. Now that Dick had figured out that he wasn’t going to be pushed away and that Jason was pretending not to notice, he was pressing close with every possible excuse. As he did, he chattered away about this and that, a slight nervous jiggle of his leg.

It was strange, like watching someone slowly come alive again. Like a dry plant perking up at the first taste of water. Jason wanted to somehow give him even more, but he didn’t know how. So he just stayed close.

Dick didn’t ask him to leave when they finished their food, so he didn’t.

Jason turned on the TV.

It was funny, Dick’s commentary slowly started to die down as his eyes started to drupe.

“Maybe I really should have drugged you food, when’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” Jason noted, reaching over to touch his forehead. He was a little warm, but not too bad.

“When’s the last time you did?” Dick shot back, but his eyes dropped closed under his hand and he didn’t push him away.

It felt a little too intimate for Jason though, so he pulled away. Dick swayed forward a little when he moved, like a part of him want to chase his touch.

He probably did.

Jason looked away and shrugged, trying to remember what they had been talking about. Sleep. Right.

“I actually do these days, Roy or Kori kick my butt if I don’t,” he said.

“They take good care of you,” Dick said softly.

“They do,” Jason agreed, his chest feeling a little warm at the thought.

“Good,” Dick said, his expression distant as he turned back to the TV.

Jason wondered if he missed them, but didn’t ask. Dick couldn’t have burned those bridges any better if he’d tried.

They watched TV silently for a while, Dick’s finger tracing patterns on his own leg, back and forth and back and forth.

Jason felt an impulse to grab his hand, but pushed it down. That wasn’t them. Roy and Kori must have been rubbing off on him.

When Dick’s motions stopped, Jason glanced over and snickered when he found that he had dozed off. When he started to tip, Jason raised his arm so he would settle against his side instead of tipping forward and jerking awake.

He didn’t know why he did it- since it effectively trapped him for however long Dick was asleep- and he told himself that it was because Dick needed the sleep, which he did, but-

Dick made a soft little sound as he positively melted against him, even in sleep. It was such a fragile thing, so relieved, just on the edge of broken… it made Jason’s chest ache.

He let him sleep.

Jason might not be able to bury him in a pile of close friends or make love to him all night or whatever, but… he could do this.

He hesitantly carded his fingers through Dick’s hair and watched him lean into the touch desperately, lips parting in a content sigh.

Maybe for this, Jason could be enough.

#touch starved #dick grayson #jason todd #background joyfire if you squint #this could be the start of something #story requests #story prompts #my writing #Anonymous

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foursideharmony · 3 years

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The Cat, the Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 8)

Summary: Before there can be a mending, there must be a shattering...

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: Unconsciousness, extreme self-doubt, ugly crying, profanity

Word Count: 3,923

Read on AO3: here

Patton knelt beside Roman and maneuvered an arm behind his shoulders in order to lift him into a reclining position. The Creative Side remained worryingly unconscious—the Witch's power had evidently been shielding him from the effects of cold exposure, and he had traded his ethereal pallor for a sickly one. “He's chilled,” Patton reported. “Maybe a little shocky from the stress. We ought to get him underground and into some nice warm blankets.”

“Maybe it serves him right,” Virgil muttered even as he slipped out of his fur coat and laid it over the prince, relying on his hoodie to keep himself warm enough in the meantime. “So now what?”

“Aw, all those cool gross monster things are leaving!” Remus said, peering down the slope of the hill. “I wanted to see a gory battle! From the inside!”

“Can't you?” Virgil said acidly. “I thought you said you'd get control of the Imagination if Roman got knocked out.”

“I said I'd get control if I knocked Roman out. It's part of the whole sibling rivalry thing. We fight over who gets to play with the good toys. Didn't you notice that nothing has really changed around here? We're still in Roman's story.” He looked pensive, which was always a dangerous sign. “I guess I could try to clock him one anyway, but I don't know if it would work when he's unconscious already.” He shrugged. “Oh well, maybe he'll get frostbite and his fingers and toes will turn black and fall off! That would be a hoot!”

“Eugh, why are you like this?” said Virgil.

“Don't you dare touch him,” Patton said firmly. “That's one experiment that is not happening today.” He lifted Roman a little more and tucked the edges of the coat under him.

“How's he looking?” asked Virgil.

“I don't think he's getting any worse, at least. I still want to get him inside one of the shelters.”

“Something tells me that's actually not going to be necessary,” said Janus, speaking for the first time since he had managed to trigger Roman's sudden turnaround. He pointed toward the area of thick forest roughly to the east of the hill. “I do so hate to correct you, Remus, but that looks like change to me.”

All the trees in a roughly circular patch had lost their coatings of snow and displayed either dark needles or bare gray-brown branches. The patch was slowly growing, and as they watched, a trail of the same phenomenon formed, leading off of the main area and meandering toward the hill. The forest sparkled as drops of newly melted water fell from twigs and caught the sun, and before long, those twigs began to mist over with pale green.

The trail reached the edge of the forested area, and there emerged from the trees...a tawny, long-haired cat. As it paced forward, the snow vanished under its paws, revealing dark, damp earth from which grass immediately began to sprout. The cat began to climb the Hill of the Stone Table, and with every step, the nascent springtime spread farther and, astonishingly, the cat grew larger . Before it was halfway up the slope, it was somewhere between a lynx and a leopard in size and still growing. Its shaggy fur clustered around its neck and shoulders, its jaws became heavier, its tail acquired a tuft at the end. It was a lion that reached the crest of the hill, the snow fleeing before him, paws striking the ground like miniature earthquakes, tiny white and yellow flowers bursting from the ground in his wake.

The response of the assembled Narnians was immediate, collective, and extreme. They didn't drop to the ground kneeling or bowing, as one might expect in the presence of their King, but ran to the Lion, keening with delight and adoration. Talking Beasts nuzzled his paws and flanks, Fauns and Dwarfs combed their fingers through his mane, and the whole throng constantly called out his name— “Aslan, Aslan!” —the various tones and pitches of their voices overlapping and blending together into a susurration like surf on a beach.

Aslan, for his part, returned their affection in full, dipping his head to brush whiskers with the beasts, swishing his tail to tickle the Fauns. Yet he maintained his pace as he continued toward the center of the hilltop, toward where the Sides were watching the proceedings with awkward astonishment, like the outsiders they were. Remus stared at the great Lion with mixed apprehension and fascination. Janus looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, but understood that even the most casual exit would only attract attention. Virgil stood stiffly as if pinned in place, splitting the difference between terror and giddy excitement and landing somewhere in the vicinity of shock. And Patton...

Patton certainly hadn't forgotten about Roman, but at the sight of Aslan's approach, he was moved to lay the Prince back down on the warming ground and step forward, shy and sentimental, to greet Aslan.

“We've already met, haven't we,” he said. It wasn't a question. Aslan nodded. “Thank you, for what you did yesterday. It helped Ailim a lot. Me too.”

Aslan turned in a slow circle, his gaze sweeping to encompass the entire gathering in turn. At last he spoke, in a voice as heavy and rich as gold itself. “Things are beginning to be set right. But there are yet choices to be made.” He walked over to Roman and bent to sniff him, causing him to flinch and whimper, but not waken just yet.

“Is Roman going to be okay?” asked Patton.

“Physically, he will,” Aslan replied. “As for the rest...that is largely up to him.” He swept his golden gaze over the crowd once more. “Shouldn't there be one more of you?”

“If you're talking about Logan,” Virgil said, “he...wait, why am I telling you? Aren't you supposed to be all-knowing or whatever?

Aslan actually smiled slightly. “Indeed. Bring him here.” A small group of Narnians jumped up to fetch Logan from where they had hidden him earlier in order to make Janus's illusion convincing. “As for the rest of you...you may wish to cover your ears.”

They did (except for Remus, who tried to pull his off entirely and discovered too late that he couldn't), and even so, Aslan's roar was an almost solid physical force. A shockwave of sorts spread out from the hill at tremendous speed, and as it passed it obliterated the hundred-year winter—no slow melting of snow, no gentle emergence of leaf buds, but an instant replacement of one season by the next. In a mere moment, the white and gray world had been made over into one of azure and earthy brown and every possible shade of green, splashed here and there with delicate floral pastels.

And there was another instantaneous effect. The sheer noise of it woke Roman up. His eyes sprang open and he gasped, body twitching as every nerve and muscle was startled into full alertness. He flailed for a moment before managing to sit up just as the roar died away. He looked around wildly, apparently not recognizing his greatly altered surroundings, until his eyes focused and his glance fell upon the Lion.

Roman's face crumpled. He made a tiny noise of anguish and turned around so that he wasn't facing Aslan, or the other Sides, or anyone.

“Roman...” Patton said. “It's gonna be—”

“I'll go,” Roman said into his own knees. “I'll leave the Imagination running so you can keep the story going until you're ready to stop.”

“Roman. Do not run from this,” Aslan said softly. “You have wronged your companions. You must face those wrongs if you wish to ever dispel them.”

“Dispel them...” Roman repeated bitterly. “Are you sure I'm not meant to keep on compounding them?”

“Okay, Princey, enough,” said Virgil, stepping forward and grasping Roman's shoulder in a gesture that was equal parts friendly and forceful. “Lay off the self-pity already. Nobody here expects you to be the bad guy. Nobody here thinks you're the bad guy unless something goes really wrong, which apparently it did. And I can definitely tell you that nobody here wants you to be the bad guy. You owe us all an apology, but that can wait. The most important thing right now is that you fix that.” He pointed across the hilltop to where the Narnians were just settling the Logan-statue into place.

Roman's eyes found it, and his expression collapsed all over again, this time with a faint greenish tinge. But he steeled himself, got his feet under himself (pointedly ignoring Virgil's offer of a hand up), and made himself walk over to the quartz form of his friend. “I-I don't know if I can,” he said. “I used the Witch's power to...and I don't have it anymore. She has it back now, she's back, and—”

“Try,” said Aslan, the single syllable falling like the closing of an oaken door.

Roman made a short nod, gulping hard, and set his attention to undoing the enchantment. He drew his sword, willed it to act again as a magic wand, and focused on Logan. On making flesh (or whatever the Sides were, in the mindscape) instead of stone. On making him live again. He put all his power of wishing into it.

Nothing happened. Logan remained frozen in crystal. Roman staggered back a step or two, panting with distress. “I am losing control over the Imagination,” he said in a voice that was almost a squeak. “I can't even... It's probably for the reason Patton said. I...I...” Without another word, he dropped his sword and fled down the slope of the hill and into the green trees.

“Roman, wait!” called Patton, to no effect.

“Bye, bro!” Remus added with an over-the-top wave.

“I will see to him,” said Aslan. “But first...” He nosed Logan for a moment, then huffed out a breath over him. Satisfied, he padded away after Roman.

For a moment still, nothing changed. Virgil was the one to spot the subtle first sign: the dark lines filling themselves in on Logan's chest, tracing the shape of his logo, the bespectacled brain. The black color spread out quickly from there as his shirt softened into fabric, and within seconds, his face and hands flushed peach, his hair was brown and rippling in the light breeze, and Logan was back and... toppling over with a little shout of surprise as he overbalanced.

“LOGAN!” Patton exulted, tackle-hugging the Logical Side in his unbridled joy, adding to the confusion of his waking.

They decided later that it was, on the whole, worth it.

Start small.

It wasn't the first time Roman had lost control over the Imagination during an adventure. The stories sometimes took on a life of their own, after all, and that occasionally meant defying the author no matter how he tried to assert himself.

What was different this time was that he had also become the villain. The story had pushed him into it, but...had it, really? That was the question that needed answering.

I thought I was your hero...

Thomas doesn't want a wicked Creativity...

If he could take control back, then it meant he wasn't the bad guy after all, and things would be all right.

He had found a shaded grove with bare, reasonably dry dirt that he could sit on while he brooded and tried the smallest thing of all: making a mushroom. If he could coax a little fungus cap up out of the soil, he would know he wasn't too far gone. If not...well...better just focus on doing it.

So far, no luck. The ground remained agonizingly mushroom-free.

He became aware of a looming presence in the grove with him, and barely glanced over his shoulder at the bulky form of Aslan. “Oh. Hi,” he said. There didn't seem to be much else to say.

“I have restored Logan, and he is well,” said the Lion.

Roman turned back to his total lack of mushrooms. “Of course you did,” he sighed. “I made you to be able to do everything Aslan can in the books. Which is pretty much everything , since...you know. So why can't I do any of it now?” He blinked back a tear or two. “Why couldn't I fix Logan?”

“You did very well. You tried. That was all I asked.”

“For all the good it did.” He pulled up a handful of new grass and let the blades fall, a few at a time, through his fingers. “I don't know what to do anymore. I made all of this—I made you—so I could give them a fun, simple adventure and be the hero in a world where heroism and villainy are clean-cut...and it turned out I was supposed to be the villain all along. What do I do with that? Patton said it: Thomas doesn't want a wicked Creativity. I can't make his dreams come true if I'm not the hero...but even the Imagination doesn't want me to be the hero anymore...so what does that leave?”

Aslan circled around until he was in front of Roman and lay down on his belly, his bulk making the grove tremble. “Roman...do you really believe you are meant to be the villain?”

“I must be. I voluntarily went to the Witch. We...I stole your power! And then I took the Witch's power! I basically became her!”

“Yes. And then you released my power, and in the process gave up hers. You chose to turn away from that path. And I would say that the change began even earlier. Do you remember how you came to acquire the Witch's power?”

“Of course. I took it from her because she was...” Roman's eyes widened. “Because she was going to hurt the others, and it was the only way to keep them safe. I didn't even intend to take it for myself, it just happened that way.”

“Precisely. In a world where heroism and villainy are clean-cut...what would you call someone who thwarts a villain in order to protect the innocent?”

Roman made a half-hearted snicker. “You know, you sounded like Logan just then.”

“Are you avoiding the question?”

“No...but even if I was a hero in that moment, I sure went hard to the bad afterward.”

“Until you stopped yourself.”

For the first time, Roman actually lifted his head to meet Aslan's gaze. He studied the Lion's bottomless amber eyes, looking for even a hint of manipulation, but found only absolute sincerity. After a long moment, he found his words again.

“So which am I? The hero or the villain?”

“Any answer I could give to that question would be misleading. You worry too much about what you are. You might do better to think instead about what you choose to do. And what you will choose to do.”

“One thing's for sure...like Virgil said, I owe the others a major apology.”

“Indeed you do.”

“But I don't know if I can face them yet.”

“Try,” Aslan said as he had before...except that his tone was much lighter this time. “I will be with you.”

“Will they forgive me?”

“There is only one way to find out.”

Roman nodded slowly, and carefully stood. “Let's find out, then.”

At his feet, unnoticed, a tiny mushroom swelled from the earth.

A hush fell over the hilltop as Roman returned, walking stiffly as if he had to force every step. His head was slumped, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Aslan trailed him by several paces, and hung back when Roman stopped, a courteous distance from the other Sides. He didn't look up as he took a deep breath and said, “I...I have...something to say,” in a thick voice.

The others all traded glances. And traded glances again. “Go on...” Patton prompted in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

It seemed an eternity before Roman forced “...i'm sorry...” through a throat half-clogged with unshed tears. Suddenly he was sobbing into his hands, his knees slowly buckling.

Patton lunged for him, but to his surprise, Virgil beat him by a hair, gathering the Prince into his arms and helping him down into a kneeling position on the grass. “I gotcha, Princey,” he said. “Get it out, it'll be okay.”

“I'm so, so sorry!” Roman wailed, clutching at Virgil as he were the edge of a cliff. “It wasn't what I wanted at all but it seemed like the Imagination did and...Patton, I'm sorry about the ice, and Logan—oh, god, Logan, I'm SO sorry I...” He trailed off into more wrenching, ugly sobs while Virgil tightened the huge, Patton joined in, and Logan placed a steady hand on Roman's heaving shoulders. Without at any point speaking the words “I forgive you,” all three of them made them understood.

(Unnoticed by the four of them, Remus stepped forward and opened his mouth to say something. Janus calmly silenced him.)

Roman cried for a long time. He cried until he was out of tears and nearly out of breath, until the exertion of bawling left him limp in the others' arms. Only then did the storm finally subside, leaving Roman with a peculiar empty space inside him where something had drained away. At its center was a hard, sharp little knot of hurt, no longer wrapped in the resentment and bluster he had been using to cushion it. He sagged, depleted and hollow, in the embrace of his companions, and like opposing magnetic fields, their presence kept the nugget of pain suspended safely away from his emotional nerves, until by and by something new began to trickle into the empty place to shield him from the sharpest edges.

Roman took a deep breath, and felt as though he were breathing in light. “So,” he said, hoarse but with a genuine warmth that they had all been missing, “I've been acting like an idiot, haven't I?”

There was a pause, and then Virgil said, “You were acting?”

Roman shoved him away with amused annoyance, and the whole scene might have dissolved into absurdity had Janus not loudly and meaningfully cleared his throat. Roman was suddenly intensely, mortifyingly aware of their audience, and he got to his feet, slapping grass debris off his trousers, cheeks burning with more than just tear tracks.

“Far be it from me to interfere with you four,” Janus said, “but are we all done here? No loose ends to tie up?”

Remus pried his hand free of his mouth with his other hand. “Heh heh, you said 'tie up!' What about me, Roman? Don't I get an apology?”

Roman pulled a face. “I haven't done anything to you. And as for you...” he went on, turning to Janus, “...I don't know if I'm ready to be sorry yet.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. I appreciate your honesty.”

“Do you, though?”

Janus shrugged extravagantly, half-smiling.

“But to answer your question...you can all leave if you want. The Imagination will let you out. But I still need to deal with the White Witch.”

“But you were the White Witch,” said Janus. “Weren't you?”

“Not exactly. I took her...I'll tell you how that all worked later, if you want. The point is, she's back now, as herself, and she still needs to be defeated if this story is to have a proper happy ending.”

“That doesn't seem so hard,” said Patton. “Aslan is here and he brought spring back, you're here and we've made up...if we're following the book, then we're back on track!”

“Indeed,” said Aslan, startling the heck out of Roman, who hadn't heard him approach. “At your request, Roman, we can proceed with the story as you originally intended.”

It would be so easy...just hand the reins to the big omnipotent god-lion and let him take care of everything, secure in the knowledge that the story had already been written. “No,” Roman said. “Some stories are about a wrongdoer being redeemed by a higher power, and those certainly have their time and place.” He smoothed down the front of his suit, adjusted his sash and cuffs, and reclaimed his sword from where he had dropped it on the hilltop. “This story is going to be about the wrongdoer fixing his own fuck-up.” Patton gasped at the curse word, which was gratifying in its own way. “I'm going to fight her myself. She'll want revenge on me anyway, for stealing her power. I'm going to let her think she can get it...and take her down.”

“Ooh!” Remus quavered. “Sounds violent! I'm in!”

“N-no...well...I guess you can watch, but no interfering! I'm going to challenge her to a duel, for Pete's sake!”

“If Remus is going, then the rest of us should probably stick around too,” said Virgil. “Who knows how many of us it's going to take to keep him corralled? Besides, look what happened the last time we let you wander off to the Witch's castle by yourself.”

“Sure, rub it in,” said Roman. “So who all is coming with me?”

The Sides formed a line, standing shoulder-to-shoulder before Roman. “It would appear that we all intend to go,” said Logan.

“You don't have to face any more evils alone, kiddo,” said Patton.

“But let's make it quick, because I have a salon appointment at two,” said Janus, pretending to study his fingernails through his gloves. He glanced up and winked.

“And you do not wish my involvement in any way?” asked Aslan.

“No, I want...wait. Is indirect involvement a possibility? Because I'm suddenly thinking it's going to be a long walk to her castle, and it might be nice if you could...give us a boost? Please?”

“Certainly,” said the Lion. “Do not be alarmed.” With that, he blew out a long breath over the Sides, and the Hill of the Stone Table and its environs blew away as if they were only a flimsy façade, perhaps painted on scraps of paper. After that eye-wateringly disorienting moment, they took stock of their situation.

They were surrounded on three sides by tall, lush evergreens, and underfoot was mostly crumbly pine needles. On the fourth side was a brief meadow of patchy grass and sparse wildflowers, and beyond that was a lake, or perhaps a broad pond. It did not seem to have thawed completely with the springtime; there were plenty of ice chunks bobbing in the water. These may have broken off the large and solid bank or platform of ice near the center, upon which was the White Witch's castle.

It looked different by daylight, and out of the perpetual winter. The Witch's power yet extended as far as her own dwelling and a little area around it, but without a backdrop of oppressive snow to bolster it, the castle seemed a much poorer and punier structure. Some of the trees at their backs were taller than its spires.

“Thank you for the...” Roman said, trailing off as he realized that Aslan was not there.

“You did request only indirect assistance from him,” Logan pointed out.

“Yeah...” Roman swallowed and squared his shoulders. “Showtime,” he muttered, and strode forward toward the castle.

#sanders sides #fanfiction #lamp/calm #platonic lamp/calm #dlampr #platonic dlampr #sympathetic janus #sympathetic remus #villainous roman #narnia

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macgyvermedical · 6 years

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Hey! I don’t know if you’ve ever watched Scorpion but in the latest episode one of characters falls and hits their head hard resulting in a drilled hole to relieve pressure and what not... but towards the end of the episode the character has trouble breathing (pulmonary embolism I think??) but they just skip to when he’s fine and in the hospital without really exploring this plot point and I was wondering if you could explain how they would have treated that. P.S. I’m a huge fan of your blog :)

“And, as always, don’t drill a hole in your head.” -Justin McElroy in an announcer voice, at least once per week since 2013.

I’ve never watched Scorpion before, but I did watch this episode, and there was just SO MUCH going on whumpily and medically. I kinda just want to talk about the whole thing tbh, but I will definitely get to the breathing issues!

(actually, this turned into a really, really long post. If you don’t care about anything else in the episode and just want to hear about the breathing, skip to the heading “The Breathing Part.”)

There will be spoilers.

For those who haven’t seen it, this ep was one of those Its a Wonderful Life remixes. In this case, the character Walter falls down a flight of stairs and, while unconscious from a head injury, he imagines an AU where Scorpion never formed and he has to track down the members and make them work together in order to save his life (or, at least, the life of his doppelganger who is trapped in a car and facing various ridiculous and evolving life threats). Meanwhile, in the primary canon, Scorpion must keep him alive for real while they wait for an ambulance that’s gotten stuck in traffic.

So let’s break down Walter’s problem list as stated in the episode:

He has a severe head injury secondary to his fall, progressing to a subdural or epidural hematoma with increased intracranial pressure (ICP) which results in brain herniation. This is treated with a cranial burr hole by handheld electric drill. He is placed in a c-collar and immobilized to prevent exacerbating a potential spinal injury.

He has a laceration to his superficial temporal artery, causing severe bleeding, which in turn causes shock, which presents with a rapid pulse and respiration. The bleeding is managed with direct pressure.

He has shallow, rapid, and erratic breathing, which causes flash pulmonary edema, further compromising his respiratory status. This is managed by treating the head injury, which corrects the erratic breathing and thereby corrects the edema.

THE SCENE MANAGEMENT AND ASSESSMENT PART:

In the episode, Toby acts as a primary rescuer in what is technically a remote environment (greater than 20 minutes from care). While I haven’t watched the show other than this episode, according to the wikipedia page, Toby is a psychiatrist by training.

Psychiatrists are medical doctors (as in, they’ve completed medical school) who have completed a residency in psychiatry. They wouldn’t have much experience with trauma assessment, but if he’d gotten an EMT along the way, it would have given him what he needed to know for this scene.

The general flow of a trauma assessment begins with a rapid primary assessment to check for any significant life threats, condensed to the ABCDEs- Do they have a patent (open) Airway, are they Breathing and what’s that breathing like, is their heart beating/do they have adequate pulses/are they bleeding severely from anywhere (Circulation), is there any obvious Deformity or mechanism of injury (MOI) that would indicate a spinal injury, is the Environment safe for them (is it too cold/hot/wet/toxic).

Toby DOES THIS (fictional characters rarely do so this is exciting), at least the first Airway-Breathing-Circulation part:

“He’s breathing really fast” -airway, as in we know there’s air coming in and out.

“Oh, yeah, its low and shallow” -breathing, how he’s breathing.

“Looks like he’s sliced his superficial temporal artery, can you get another towel? This one’s soaked” -circulation, identifying arterial bleeding, and then stopping to put pressure on it. He doesn’t take a pulse on screen until later, but I’ll give it to him.

The only thing that would have been nice to see was a pat-down to find any other glaring injuries (deformity) once he’d stopped the bleeding, considering it’s clear he’d fallen down the stairs, but i’ll 100% take it.

After his primary, Toby launches into a focused neurological assessment- immediately ascertaining Walter’s Glasgow Coma Scale (GCS) score. He declares it’s a 6 (which is also what I got). He also tests Walter’s pupils- noting that one is “blown” meaning dilated and unresponsive to light- a finding that is backed up visually in the scene. He could have also looked for signs of a skull fracture, which might have been helpful later, but he may have done this off screen.

The GCS indicates the patient’s level of responsiveness, with 15 being someone who is alert and responding to commands appropriately. 3 is totally unresponsive (the going joke is that even a chair has a GCS of 3). Anything under 8 is considered comatose. Someone may have a low GCS due to chemical sedation (you’ve probably heard of a medically induced coma) or a severe medical problem, but combined with a fall-related mechanism of injury (MOI), the low GCS in this case is probably due to head injury.

The blown pupil indicates that whatever injury caused the GCS of 6 is also causing so much pressure in his brain that part of it is actually squishing out of the hole the spinal column comes out of, called brain herniation. This in turn puts pressure on the nerve that controls pupil dilation (which sits right in that area), so the signal gets stopped and the pupil dilates and fails to respond to light.

THE BRAIN HEMATOMA PART:

In this scene, Toby diagnoses that as “bleeding between his skull and his brain” -known medically as a subdural or epidural hematoma. Now, the skull is a closed space, so anything that’s raising the pressure, be it more fluid within the brain (swelling/cerebral edema), more blood (a hematoma or bleeding within the brain itself), or more cerebrospinal fluid, is going to get really bad really fast. The mark that it’s bad enough to be life threatening is that blown or non-reactive pupil.

In this case, a hematoma is forming which is taking up space and causing increased intracranial pressure, or ICP.

The reason ICP a life threat is the fact that with pressure so high within the skull, blood pressure at least needs to be equal to it to get some blood in. Therefore, as ICP rises, blood pressure also rises to try to compensate. Unfortunately, this is unsustainable for the rest of the body and doesn’t work for long. The lack of blood drastically reduces the amount of oxygen the brain gets, resulting outwardly as a diminishing level of responsiveness and a lowering GCS.

As pressure continues to rise, the brain pushes down towards the hole the spinal column comes out of, and the brain starts pushing on the brain stem. As pressure starts to rise around the brain stem, it too starts losing blood and oxygen, and begins to malfunction.

The brain stem controls most of our vital signs, so in addition to that really, really high blood pressure (think in the high 200s/100s), heart rate tends to drop below normal limits (. In the episode, we actually see a high heart rate, which may have been the writers originally demonstrating shock from the bleeding (which would result in a high heart rate and fast, shallow breathing). This high, shocky heart and respiratory rates would have dropped as the ICP worsened.

The intervention for the increased ICP performed in the episode is a procedure called a cranial burr hole. While a similar procedure called trepanation has been done since ancient times, the formal procedure to find and treat hematomas started around the first world war and was in common practice until the 70s, when high tech imaging to more easily find the hematomas was put into widespread use. During that time, drilling cranial burr holes was a common diagnostic/surgical treatment combo procedure for suspected subdural and epidural hematomas.

Drilling a hole in the skull is dangerous, so you’d want to drill in the most likely places first so you have to take that risk as few times as possible. If a skull fracture is present, there’s about an 85% chance the hematoma is directly under that (the other 15% being directly opposite the fracture). Barring a fracture, the most dangerous and likely place for that hematoma is on either side of the brain, just inward from the ears, and there’s an 85% chance it’s on the same side as the blown pupil (with the other 15% being on the opposite side. This is where they drill in the episode).

So, barring a skull fracture, the first burr hole is usually made just above and in front of the ear (followed by one on the other side, then on each side of the forehead, then 3 inches above the ear on each side).. Considering Walter “slashed his superficial temporal artery” the first burr hole could probably even have been made through the same opening in the skin after the initial bleeding was stopped.

Unfortunately, even if you find the hematoma, the blood doesn’t just run right out. The blood will have already clotted into a tough, jelly-like mass that’s almost impossible to remove through a tiny drill hole. The goal is to suck about 10% of it out with a medical vacuum and hope that buys enough time to get somewhere a neurosurgeon can cut a flap of the skull away and actually remove the whole hematoma.

In the episode they do mention that cerebrospinal fluid is running out of the hole, which would also make a small amount of emergency space in the skull, so that might have been the thing that saved him.

You still wouldn’t want a psychiatrist (or even, like, a trained ER doc or general surgeon) doing this without really awesome medical direction from an attending neurosurgeon.

THE BLEEDING PART:

Speaking of the bleeding, the superficial temporal artery is probably not going to be as much of a life threat as the episode makes it out to be. Yes, it is an artery, and yes, it might bleed a consequential amount for someone already in medical trouble, but it’s also a relatively tiny artery and bleeding out from it is reallllly unlikely. As long as Walt wasn’t on blood thinners, he’d survive it without intervention. But it’s nice of them to stop the bleeding anyway.

Scalp bleeding is easily controlled with pressure IRL as it is in the episode. Head injuries can be a little iffy on direct pressure due to the possibility of skull fractures, so putting pressure around the wound is usually better than right on top to avoid accidentally pushing skull bits into the brain. Otherwise, there’s not much to say here.

THE BREATHING PART:

“Oh damn, he’s having a pulmonary edema!” - Toby, clearly a psychiatrist.

In the episode, Walter begins having trouble breathing right as they’re drilling that burr hole. Its attributed to the fact that he’s breathing erratically and shallowly, and that’s causing his lungs to fill with fluid, something they call pulmonary edema (btw its not a pulmonary edema. It’s just pulmonary edema).

Pulmonary edema is a situation where the lungs swell and then begin to weep fluid into lung passages, making it difficult to pull air in and exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide. This is a phenomenon seen commonly with heart failure, where the heart doesn’t move enough blood forward, and it instead backs up in the lungs, which raises the pressure in lung blood vessels and forces the fluid into lung passages.

Toby’s explanation actually sounds more like something called atelectasis, where long periods of shallow breathing (usually after surgery or chest injury) causes the tiny air sacs in the lungs (called alveoli) to collapse because they aren’t regularly being forced open by deep breaths.

I think Walter did suffer from pulmonary edema in this case, caused by acute heart failure. His heart rate was (or rather should have been) very low, and working under the tremendous strain of a blood pressure that was extremely high to overcome the ICP. There’s no way it was adequately circulating blood. Blood then backed up in his lungs, causing them to swell and leak fluid into lung passages, which made it really hard to breathe.

The definitive treatment for this would have been to fix his heart rate, respiratory rate and blood pressure by fixing the hematoma. Prior to that, trying to support respiration force air into his lungs to create some counter pressure (and giving him oxygen if available) would have been the best bet.

In the field, giving him rescue breathing if his breathing stopped entirely would be pretty much all they could do. In the ambulance, they would have intubated him and provided some extra pressure to get air into his lungs. At the hospital, they would have provided respiratory support with a ventilator until they corrected the ICP, which should overall correct the pulmonary edema.

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#whump reference #writing reference #scorpion #ICP #burr holes #pulmonary edema #arterial bleeding #scalp bleeding #blood #whump #GCS

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sapphicomenn · 3 years

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WELCOME TO MY THOUGHTS WHILE REWATCHING THE MCU IN TIMELINE ORDER: IRON MAN TWO

snowy area and guy who’s angry at stark bc his dad or someshit died. MUST BE THE BADGUY

WOOOO PARTTYYY. the government is tryna take control of the suit? wtf are yall on, this man took out a jet by MISTAKE and yall think you can control it?

tonys techno heart is poisoning him. what else is new? congrats on pepper reaching CEO of stark’s company. good for her

boxing match between stark and hap- NATASHA!!!!!! more awkward partys and ohmygod hammer SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY

racecar driving gone wrong when accent guy has FUCKING ELECTRICAL WHIPLASHES SO POWERFULL THEY CUT THROUGH A FUCKING CAR. IRONMAN BEATS UP GUY WITH SHOCKY WHIPS

angry french guys are angry about shocky whips. take notes people. also shocky whip guy got hold of the techno heart blueprints some how???

“you come from a, family of, thieves. and butchers.” says the guy who has shock-whips AND TRIED TO KILL STARK. ya dumb fucknut

“he thinks of the iron man weapon as a toy.” oh shut it senator stErN ya humpty dumpty looking mf.

pepper knows somethings uP with tony. tELL HER YOU’RE DYING.

“6219” and here we see shocky whip guy faking his own death without him doing any of the planning. HAMMER YOU BAILED HIM OUT?!????

ohmygod shut the fuck up you knockoff stark. “do you speak english? cause i can get a translater-“ OHMYGOD SHUT UP

man shocky whip guy is a piece of work. selling weapons to literally everyone and everything??

WHY DID THEY CHANGE THE ACTOR FOR RHODEY- hUH

hammer if i have to listen to you ONE MORE TIME IM GONNA RIOT THIS FUCKING MOVIE.

rhodey dont betray your friend like that :( HOLYSHIT STARK IS HAVING PARTY IN THE SUITKSKSJSKSJSK good on you pepper for taking- TONY NO DONT START AN AFTER PARTY

rhodey whatever you’re doing dont you dare- rhodey, rhoDEY NO DONT STEAL A SUIT FOR THE LOVE OF THOR. RHODEY WTF ARE YOU SAYING “YOU DONT DESERVE TO WEAR THE SUIT.” YOU DONT DESERVE TO WEAR IT EITHER YA FUCKJOB

another one bites the dust playing, while two men beat eachother up in metal suits. pEPPER lay of natasha, shes pretty 🥺

“we dont have to do this tony.” YOU STARTED THE FIGHT YOU IDIOT WTF DO YA MEAN. now yall just blew everything up great going :/

eating donuts, on the giant donut outfront of the stor- FURY FUCKYEAH. why the fuck is the first shot of blackwidow of her ass. i mean im not complaining bUT-

“you’re iron man and he just took it?” CORRECT FURY. great now we’re back with hammer. gET HIM HIS FUCKING BIRD. take a shot everytime hammer says the same sentance more then three times. you’ll be drunk within 2 minutes max

coulson and fury are the best characters so far i love them. great good god hammer and rhodry in the same scene this is a nightmare. shut up about guns and just weaponize the stolen suIT

info crap shield gave to stark is interesting. i think. howard stark is a dick. scratch that, hes a asshole, but a loving asshole?

coulson failed his job at keeping stark at home. now hes meeting with pepper. and of coURSE pepper is allergic to strawberrys because OF COURSE SHE IS.

holy shit his dad hid a element IN A FUCKING MAP. the starks are amazing. building montage because yes. coulson is still incredible.

ELEMENT BUILDING IS SCARY SHIT. TECHNO HEART IS REBUILT FOR THE BETTER, BABY!

shocky whip guy is making shocky whips2.0 WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY TAKING THE BIRD WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU HAMMER. IT TAKES TIME TO MAKE A SUIT ACTUALLY WORK YOU ANGRY BASTARD.

shocky whip man called stark. now stark probably knows hammer is behind it all.

final battle takes place at an expo yAy. stop dancing like you’re king of the world, hammer. and stfu about playing fAiR >:I

ohmygod so many evil drones. shocky whip guy better kill hammer with one of em drones. holyshit rhodey got outfitted with the new suit

PLAYER TWO JOINED THE BATTLE

everything is going wrong i told yall. GO BLACK WIDOW, KICK HAMMERS ASS :D

haha suits go BRRRRR

TONY SAVED A SMALL PETER PARKER AWHH

happy you perv dont watch natasha change and watch the road. very unprofessional of you. black widow kicking ass is amazing 20/10

BEATING MEN UP GO BRRRR

hacker voice: IM IN

BESTFRIEND FIGHT STOPS THEM FROM MAKING A PLAN AND IN DOING SO GIVES THE BADGUYS THE HIGH GROUND. fucking idiots

GUNS GO PEWPEW

HA HAMMER GOT ARRESTED. shocky whip man has his own suit :0 HOLYSHIT THATS TERRIFYING. HANDBLASTS HITTING EACHOTHER CREATED A BOMB. thats impressive- oh well shocky whip guy made the drones explosive im not surprised

“you look like two seals fighting over a grape.” rhodey what the hell.

HA STERN HAS TO AWARD TONY AND RHODEY

NEXT MOVIE: THOR

#artemis rants #iron man 2 #iron man #iron man movie #the mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #shocky whip guy #rhodey is a BITCH #hammer is annoying #GET HIM HIS FUCKING BIRD #SUITS GO BRRR

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ourastroindia-blog · 6 years

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Is astrology true? Should we believe in it or not? | P. Khurrana

People have always been curiously to think about their future. At whatever point somebody is in trouble and can't without much of a stretch leave it, he needs to know whether the times of his hopelessness will arrive at an end by any means. Also, if yes, at that point when? When one contributes a lot of time, exertion or cash into some task, it is normal to ponder whether that speculation will bear some natural product. There have dependably been individuals around who have effectively anticipated future occasions. Their techniques have been distinctive - a few people can just investigate the future, some utilization tarot cards, some draw up a visionary graph which we call horoscopes, some read the lines in the palms of individuals. One can't deny that future has been precisely anticipated commonly and by numerous a people. Each effective expectation demonstrates that it is, in fact, conceivable to accurately anticipate future. In the antiquated circumstances, celestial prophets were held to be in extraordinary regard by the general population. There was no distinction amongst space experts and celestial prophets. Truth be told, cosmology and Astrology were not thought to be two distinct subjects. Numerous will be astonished to realize that the majority of the eminent researchers of the past, including Sir Isaac Newton, were crystal gazers as well. In old India, Astrology was known as "Jyotish Shastra" which included prescient Astrology and in addition what we know as cosmology. Obviously that the celestial prophets of that period were all incredible mathematicians as well. An expert celestial prophet was called "Trikal-darshi" one who could see past, present, and future. It would maybe not be an embellishment to state that Astrology was thought to be the chief branch of science. Gradually over some undefined time frame, this subject came into unsavoriness.

Astrology is 100% true. In fact, the question should be, how true astrologers are. On the off chance that somebody has an exceptionally exhaustive information about astrology they can precisely stick point occasions throughout your life. Be it past present or future.

Astrology gives you approaches to enhance your own identity. The instruments of astrology can be utilized to know the attributes of a man, their characteristics and weaknesses and in light of that the individual can discover approaches to progress. Astrology can likewise be utilized to anticipate the correct sort of vocation for a man in view of what the characteristics they have. Astrology can be utilized to recognize the correct sort of accomplice for a man, somebody they will be best with and it can likewise be utilized by somebody to know their mate in a superior way and they will have the capacity to know why their accomplice carries on unquestionably which can prompt better acknowledgment and comprehension between them. Astrology additionally gives chances to help a discouraged individual by distinguishing the underlying driver of their misery. In particular, astrology can be utilized to give you trust during a period of aggregate sadness. There are times when are frantically needing discovering answers to why certain occasions are going on in our lives and in the event that these occasions are negative we need to know to what extent will they last. Astrology has the response for such queries.

Why, do you have any uncertainty about Astrology? Astrology is an imperative piece of Sanatan Vedic culture/Hinduism, which is one of the most established custom in entire world. It has vital forecast of life. By increasing such learning and training one can see the entire future existence of one's life from birth to his passing and even one can see his past life. It was our custom in antiquated period that recently infant conceived Namkaran Sanskar was finished by a Pandit researcher, who used to check his/her past birth even. In the wake of viewing is entire Janam Kundli or Graha Nakshatra, he named the youngster, yet individuals today supposed English educated, who organizes birth day Party. Their kid’s names are additionally extraordinary like W, Z or Hocky, Shocky or Tiky and so forth. Which is no importance. In old period, individuals were named as Ram, Krishna, Mohan, Lakshaman and so forth yet scuh named individuals are not very many in the general public. Names has additionally impact, however this is not really known to any proficient individuals. Everything or each rationale of Sanata Dharma is 100% valid. It is Sanatan implies, Lord Omnipotent is Sanatan and that is the reason that Lord Vishnu dependably embodies for its wellbeing and security in each Yug. It never closes in any circumstance, while other new panths and religions will be finished multi day. Here Bhagwaan comes in human structures and in various structures likewise for the reason for Sanatan Dharma/Hinduism. In this way, India is definitely not a straightforward place that is known for earth, yet its entire land is virtuous and unadulterated. Such thing cannot be found in some other nation.

The individuals who don't accept and the individuals who translate or count each point with the rationale of Science are in problem. Science or history was nowhere, when first development of the world was experienced childhood with this very place that is known for Lord Sri Ram. However, I concur that there is similitude between present day Science and Sanatan Dharma on such a large number of focuses, yet it is as yet unique on such a large number of fields.

Individuals who are proficient or purported propel check or see each occurrence with the Science idea, which is no reality. Your cutting edge Science don't have faith in Rebirth rationale of Sanatan Dharma and it additionally does not bolster loathsomeness or Bhut-Pret, Pisach and so forth. Yet, it isn't testing our Hindu writing, where it is all around specified that there are 84 Lakhs distinctive sorts of Yoni, where one needs to go according to Karma and individual may take resurrection as creature and even human frame likewise according to his/her Karma. There are such a significant number of episodes very much specified in Hindu writing about repulsiveness or Ghost from Ramaayan to Sri Mad Bhagvad Gita or Sri Mad Bhagvatam to Mahabharat TO EVEN HANUMAN CHALISA, yet alleged progressed and proficient individuals don't trust it and translate is according to their own desire. Things being what they are, are such individuals not testing our ethos of India and Hindu writing? Graha Nakshatra and Astrology is only an imperative piece of our Hinduism, which impacts us from birth to try and till the passing. One is guided or impacted by it whether, he appreciates or endures, however its impact is sure on various Rashi. Astrology is only a training of Sanatan Dharma, by which one can get information. In any case, it isn't workable for supposed progress disapproved of Science disapproved of individuals. By astrology, one can see the predetermination of future even, which are to occur in one's life.

There are a lots of misconceptions about Astrology which is difficult to explain in brief. If you want to know more about astrology you can follow P.Khurrana. He is a well-known astrologer & specialize in astrology. Visit Astro India or you can directly call at- 9810349900 for any kind of quires.

#Online astrology

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saofic-blog · 7 years

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rating: T

word count: 2700

fandom: homestuck, post-game feferi-is-empress alternia (entirely original character focused)

==> be the subjugglator troll again

you didn't actually volunteer to be here for this long to bother labrynth, no matter how hilarious he is. no, your best hatefriend aneris recently got transferred to this ship and promoted and you haven't gotten to see her in person since you met her, pretty much. she'd still been in training, then, and now she's already a captain of a warship while you're, uh. still under review for leading a squad. that's okay, though. aneris is much more of a leader than you are, anyway; she actually has interests and ambitions other than poking things with sticks. (big. heavy. iron. sticks. the better to beat some heads in if you have to!) really you just ran into labrynth first by chance.

when he finally scrapes you off, you wander off to find aneris. this proves harder than one might think, probably because the rapprochement carries easily thirty thousand trolls, and its admiral insists on a much greater deal of integration than most. so you can't, for instance, just go find the warmblood living quarters. why do they gotta make a girl's life so hard?

you give up after an hour of wandering down corridors and making people nervous.

-- deliriousExposition [DE] began trolling sunnyEnchantress [SE] --

DE: yoooo eris where you even At

it takes forever for aneris to answer. must have been busy. usually she's whip-quick on the reply no matter when you troll her.

SE: aaeren? i'm not anywhere special, why?

DE: no i meAn on the ship. where Are you. i've been wAlking for motherfuckin hours And so fAr zero luck D:>

SE: ... wait are you on MY ship. like are you here?

DE: yes thAt is indeed whAt i wAs implying good job <:D

SE: holy shit

SE: here

-- sunnyEnchantress sent deliriousExposition file "rapprochementmap.png" --

SE: level five, sector CE-01, it's the leisuretainment area

SE: find the bar!!!

DE: gotchA! see you in A bit, sister!!

SE: i cannot believe you're on my fucking ship oh my god

-- deliriousExposition [DE] is an idle troll --

it's much faster going now that you have a solid destination. the leisuretainment sector is mildly crowded with off-duty trolls on their free night and coming off their shifts, a mix of casual clothes and mussed-up uniforms. you grab a nearby yellowblood by the shoulder and he growls and sparks at you, ow-- before he looks up at your face and turns dramatically pale.

"ain't no nevermind, brother," you reassure him. "you got your know on where the bar is at?"

"uh, yeah, um. i mean, yes ma'am?" he says in a rush. "it's three blocks that away and two joints down the corridor."

"thanks, bro," you say, grinning at him, and manage to catch the very beginning of him hyperventilating out of the corner of your peripherals when you sweep off.

the bar is more crowded than the rest, but now you're here you can probably find aneris no prob; she's all over those weird cute freckles, plus she's tall for a brown, nearly matches you.

"aaeren!!" oh, she found you first. yeah, that is definitely aneris kneeling half on a table and waving aggressively at you. you wander on over and let her drape herself over your shoulders in a warm, booze-smelling hug.

"throwin' a subjugglator's hatchname 'round a joint like this, bae, you're gonna give some folk the wrong idea," you say. aneris snorts inelegantly at this, then puts her hand on your cheek in drunken drama and cracks up.

"but sister," she whines, loudly, "what about serendipity?!"

"there, there. you pancracked dumbass. shoosh," you say, stone cold deadpan. a bunch of little intakes of breath go off all around you, eyes huge in horror or captivation.

aneris holds half a straight face for half a second before she is off again, howling laughing, and slips off the table. you do not catch her, because she did this to her own damn self. you do steal her seat, though, and then crack up yourself.

"oh my god," aneris gasps, curled up a little on the (probably sticky) floor. "oh my god. i've missed you so much. what the fuck."

"uhm," one of the other trolls at the table goes. "wow, uh. pleasedon'tcullme but uh. what the fuck."

"ouonhe, this is aaeren-- oh, right, vitiator aaustere, i guess," aneris says lazily. "we met when i was in training." she clambers her way up from the floor with a wincing gasp and settles herself casually in your lap. you don't usually like people touching you, honestly, but eris is just like this, and you don't mind so much when it's her. you grin ingratiatingly at 'ouonhe,' a wiry little thing on the verge between teal and cerulean. her face remains a shocky wide-eyed picture of the phrase "what the fuck."

honestly this is probably at least half of why you and aneris get along so well. fucking with people is just so rewarding. her other friends seem to include a terrified-and-trying-to-hide-it little rust-brown, an even littler curvy as fuck olive, and a big yellow who looks about a step away from charging in to protect aneris's virtue. you're pretty sure aneris has no virtue to speak of, though, so if they know her at all well they should really know better!!

nobody thinks too clearly around the facepaint, though. that's a big part of why you wear it.

"eris, sweetgrub," you purr, "funny as this is, you might wanna tell your friends i'm not gonna kill them."

"i thought that was obvious?" aneris says, blinking down at you innocently. oh, her arms are around your neck. when did that happen. you are basically wearing her like a big orange blanket. yeah, nah, it'd be pretty hard even for you to cull somebody like this. you put your face in aneris's long (not as long as yours), wild mass of hair and purr a little bit. she smells nice under the sharp scent of whatever she's been drinking.

"ew, aaeren, i swear to god if you get paint all over me--!" aneris shrieks. you giggle to yourself a little.

"what are you using on your hair, sis?" you ask her, ignoring her jabs about the paint. it'd wash out just fine – you'd know! "smells downright miraculous."

"'s just the cheap troll herbal essences, shit, what are you talking about. don't switch to my conditioner, you've got too much to just mistreat it like that."

you mock-pout at her. "so you would condemn me to continue losing half my stipend on hair care when you have this lovely secret alternative..."

"yes," aneris says seriously. "yes i would. but also you're getting a purpleblood salary like, bae, fuck you, half your stipend is probably more than all of mine. fuck yeah i want you to spend it on hair care shit, and then while you're here i can steal it. oh my god i'm a genius."

you cackle into her hair again and clack your horns against hers. it sparks and buzzes a little with her meagre psionics and you make a face at her for that which has her snorfling into her drink.

"these here your quadrants, eris?" you ask real low under the chatter of the crowd.

"hmmm? yeah, sort of? sennia is kinda ash for me an' ouonhe, 'n i've dabbled flush wi' all of 'em here or there over the sweep. why?"

"just li'l guy over there is givin us the most hatin'-ass look i ever did see, like, god damn." you say, glancing over at the rustie.

aneris twists around to look over the table real blatantly. (girl ain't got a subtle bone in her body.) the rustie looks away as soon as aneris turns.

"oh," aneris says. "oooohhh." she slaps a hand over her mouth and giggles drunkenly around it. "oh my god."

"what?" you jostle your legs under her until it makes her rumblespheres bounce and her laughter hitch with the motion.

"oh my god," she repeats, and then she's climbing unceremoniously off you ("ow," you say mildly as she kind of kicks her heel into your shin), and lunging around the table for the boy.

"gen~!! gennes you big dumb sweetie don't look at aaeren like that she's really nice i swear-- okay, she's awful, the worst, but that's why she's great." she looks back at the rest of the table, bites just the tip of her tongue as she sticks it out at you, and bundles gen(nes?)'s head face-first into her rumblespheres. you can't hear him squeak over the din of the bar but you can just imagine it. if the kid's over eleven sweeps you'll eat your pipes. probably fresh off ascension, even.

"eris get a pile," you hoot over the table at her. "i just met him and i can already tell he's not that kind of boy!"

"you would be surprised," aneris says wickedly, sticks her tongue out at you the rest of the way, and then sweeps the boy up into her arms and resettles the both of them so he's in her lap.

"um, okay, like, i get if this is way out of line, but like. you're not, actually, quadranted to aneris at all, are you, um...? subjugglator... austere?" ouonhe cuts in.

"aaustere," you correct, "and i'm not actually too fussed over who's all knows my hatchname, not to mention you'll all be gettin' confused over it with eris around, so you might 's well know me by aaeren."

"she's going to kill us all by the end of the day," ouonhe says with a kind of lingering, morbid fascination. "aneris, i'm blaming you."

aneris blinks at her. "what? what makes you think that? aaeren is good people!!"

"yeah, i hardly ever get imperial reprimand for unreasonable cullings," you say, as earnestly helpful as you know how. "sometimes i do get church commendation for creative culling, though," you add thoughtfully.

"aneris, i just need you to know. that i hate you. so much. for doing this to me," ouonhe says.

"now, now," the yellowblood to your left intones, distracted and perfunctory. they're flipping through something on a husktablet, impressively unbothered by what's going on, but they reach over to pat ouonhe between her horns. you note the ports on their wrists and forearms marking them as a helmsman and consider being duly impressed.

you'll see how they deal with you after they've had you for an entire morning, though. it wouldn't be right not to put aneris's friends through the full Authentic Aaustere Experience, after all!

===================================

==> aneris: despair of your choice in hatefriends.

"you pale for that rusty boy, eris," aaeren tells you as she drags you down the corridor you'd blearily indicated to your respiteblock.

"fuck me, i so am," you bemoan, and slump a little heavier into aaeren's arm around your thoracic struts that is holding you up. she doesn't deign to even twitch at the change in pressure.

"why you ain't asked him out yet, then? 's not like you."

"he'sssa wriggler, aaeren!!" you whine. "he's, like, nine, and all shy 'n shit, 's cute as fuck."

"he's pale as a motherfucking pale thing over you, too, looked like."

"i knoowww!!" you've graduated to wailing, probably, so it's a good thing that you've reached a door with a familiar symbol on it. you reach a clumsy hand up to punch in your code. and then again. and again. ah-ha. dumb door code can't beat you.

"but if i asked him it'd just scare him off," you grumble into the surface of the desk aaeren drops you on.

"what's his trollhandle?" aaeren asks, and you've told her before your inebriated pan can catch up to why she might be asking that.

"the fuck business does that boy have with a trollhandle like that," aaeren says. you heave yourself up on your elbows to see her doing something with her palmhusk, grinning sinisterly down at it with both paint and fangs. nooooooooo, what a bitch!!!!

"he likes to think he's a tortured badass," you say. "because he's a dumb wriggler, like i told you."

aaeren looks down at you over her screen, leering.

"eris. aneris, honey. sugargrub. you're barely nine sweeps older than him."

"that's twice his age!!"

"dude, i'm like, nearly fourty sweeps older than you, never seemed to bother you, what do you want out of this? shit, the guy i was just hassling 's like a hundred sweeps older than me, he still thinks i'm a wriggler. don't really matter that much, we're all ascended here."

"barely!!" you hiss, and then let yourself drape bonelessly back over the desk in despair. "fuckin' highbloods," you grumble. shit's different when you've got centuries to throw around.

"yeah, yeah, what was it you told me the other perigree? ah, yes. 'just means we gotta live fast and go for it while we got it,' wasn't it?"

"oh my god fuck youuu, i'm too drunk for this." how dare she pull your own live-fast-die-young-bad-girls-do-it-well troll-M.I.A. philosophies on you at a time like this. how very dare.

"good. here you go. you're welcome," aaeren purrs, and hands you her husk.

-- deliriousExposition [DE] began trolling cimmerianCyprian [CC] --

DE: yo fAm just gottA let you know And All right

DE: my sis eris over here like, DYIN' to put frond to your pretty fAce yo

DE: she All, 'i Ain't gonnA tell him, gonnA scAre A brother off D:>'

CC: who-- oh god. ---- um!!!

DE: yeAh yeAh we get it, big scAry subjugglAtor etc etc

DE: you got A considerAtion on About whAt i ActuAlly sAid up there?

CC: --- ---- ---- !!! um!

DE: wow ok she wAsn't kidding motherfucking lol.

DE: now she's All, woe is me, i'm too old for him like.

DE: bro i don't even know how to hAndle this

CC: ---------------!!

DE: consider this her officiAl solicitAtion tho i guess since she's bein too drunk An' cluckbeastshit to do it her own fine self <XD

CC: i---- just---

"wow fuck you," you whine at aaeren, who looks somehow even smugger and starts up a loud, rumbling purr. UGH. why do you have such shit taste in friends?!

DE: hey baaaabe

DE: fuck she didn't sign out i'm too drunk for this

DE: so like ignore aaeren she's a fuckin' bag of bulges ok

CC: --- --- aneris---?

DE: yea bae of course who tf else would it be like what kinda crazy steals the palmhusk out an indo's *indigo's fucking frond

CC: um---!! is she---? there with you---?

DE: yea fucker's grinnin at me like i'm the greatest joke her shitty messiahs ever did tell

DE: wait i'm on her husk an accound *t damn i'm glad she doesn't care about """blasphemy""" hoofbeastshit like the rest a them clowns

CC: so ------ should i -------- --- -----?

DE: babe ur dash-ellipsesess *ses are goin out of control calm tf down

CC: --- --- ----- ---- ------- ---!!!!!!

DE: ok that's the uh. opposite of what i said but you know what we'll talk about that tomorrow night ok

DE: uh

DE: i'm gonna get aaeren to put me in the slime before i say something revolting ok

DE: go the fuck to coon wriggler

DE: this is Aaeren AgAin just for pAinful clArity's sAke.

DE: but this is from eris ok lbr

DE: <>

CC: !!! !!! ------ ---- ---- – !! ---

CC: ... ... <> -- -- ??!

-- deliriousExposition [DE] ceased trolling cimmerianCyprian [CC] --

you glare balefully (and drunkenly) up at your so-called ""friend"". she's holding a. secondary palmhusk from which she'd apparently cut in on that chat convo.

"just fucking. put me to coon already," you groan, letting the palmhusk flip limply from your defeated grasp down onto the desk.

aaeren puts you to coon. she trollhandles you like a bag of starchtubers over her shoulder and dumps you into the slime fully clothed and just barely managing to start up a whine about it.

"you are so fucking awful," you tell her. "the worst."

she grins like a proud purrbeast and the last thing you're really quite aware of, between the slow soak of sopor through your clothes and the booze, is her disappearing into your tiny ablutionsblock and the light clicking off.

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