#and i didn’t take my medication all weekend because i was out of town and forgot

[callsign-daydream]

Girl's Night Out - TGM

Summary: Halo is back in town, and the girls are ready for a night of fun! Who knows? The boys might even miss them.

Warnings: Starred out swearing, yelling, general Navy/Military inaccuracies, alcohol, no plot in sight, inconsistency between names/callsigns, just silliness, OC included (about her here), mild Hangman/OC

Word Count: 1471

Girl's Night Out --- “We’re going out tomorrow.” Phoenix strode into the apartment, typing something out on her phone, stepping over some boots in the middle of the floor, and snagging an apple out of the basket on the countertop.

Daydream stopped humming along to Caterina Caselli and looked up from the her salad. “Was there someone at the door? Nah. Couldn’t be. Nobody knocked.”

“Not my fault you never lock your door.”

Hallie grumbled but couldn’t deny it.

“Anyway,” Nat sat on a stool, “tell Bagman you can’t hang out this weekend.”

That caused Hallie to snap her head up again. “Who says I’m doing anything with Hangman?”

“Because you’re usually doing something with him on the weekends, and for some reason the medics haven't figured out yet, you like him.”

“Do not.”

“Liar.”

Hallie chucked a tomato over the counter. Nat managed to catch it, promptly tossing it into her mouth.

“What’s the special occasion anyway?” Hallie poured some vinaigrette over her bowl before turning the music down on her phone.

“Halo’s coming to town.”

Hallie's eyes widened. Halo had been reassigned after the Dagger Squad’s first mission, before Maverick decided on adding an eighth member. Hallie had been in the same TOPGUN year as Halo, but hadn’t seen her since.

“What for?”

“Extra training. She gets in tonight, and we’re going out for a girl’s day tomorrow. No ditching.”

Hallie scoffed and picked up her phone. “You know I’m in.”

Nat smirked and raised an eyebrow at the blonde woman typing on her phone. “Who are you texting?”

Hallie looked up, opened her mouth several times, and then grimaced. “...Jake.”

“I knew it!”

Another tomato went flying.

--- “Where’s Fee and Dream?” Rooster asked as he joined the crew in the corner of the Hard Deck. Payback and Fanboy were currently testing how many peanuts Bob could fit in his mouth, while Hangman and Coyote were haunting the pool table as usual.

Hangman didn’t look up from his shot. “Girl’s night. Halo’s in town.”

“And they didn’t come here?” Rooster sat with his beer.

Coyote chuckled. “Probably didn’t want us crashing their night.”

“We wouldn’t crash it—”

On cue, a spray of peanuts flew across the space. One hit Rooster’s face. One fell in Coyote’s open cup. One ricocheted off the window. A mess rattled across the pool table, eliciting a curse from Hangman, who bombed his shot and sunk the cue ball. Bob was coughing severely as Payback and Fanboy cheered and high-fived.

“Forty-eight,” Payback confirmed.

Rooster nodded. “Yeah, I see it now.”

Penny was quickly at their side, handing out cups to pick up the nutty missiles, as well as collecting thirty dollars from a grumbling Payback after finding out Bob hadn’t passed fifty.

“We got another bet going, if you want in,” Payback said to Rooster.

“What’s up?”

“When the girls will call about needing a ride home.” He glanced at the clock and grinned. “Fanboy’s already out.”

Rooster shook his head. “You gotta give them at least till midnight.”

“That’s what I said,” Coyote agreed.

“I thought they’d drink faster!” Fanboy protested.

“Phoenix said two in the morning,” Bob said.

“I say one,” Rooster said. “Give or take fifteen minutes.”

“You’re all wrong.” Hangman set his now-full peanut cup down on the pool table. “They’ll be drinking more because of Halo, but Phoenix is somehow more stubborn when she’s drunk and will have them hold out until twelve thirty, which is when I’ll get a call from Daydream about how much fun they’re having. She'll finally ask for a ride around twelve forty-five.”

“Oh, right.” Rooster smirked. “I forgot you’d know your girlfriend better than us.”

“Not my girlfriend.”

“Then how’d you know who I was talking about?”

Hangman threw the cup of peanuts at Rooster, earning one laugh and several groans at the new mess.

They all turned out wrong. At around twelve forty-five, Hangman’s phone vibrated on the table, “Dreamgirl” glowing across the screen. Rooster whistled as Hangman glared and answered it.

“Seresin here.”

“Jake!” Hallie’s voice was loud enough without even being on speaker. “Guess what!”

He chuckled. “What?”

“I can do a tequila shot through my nose!”

Bob’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t sound safe.”

Hangman waved a hand. “You should join the circus with that trick, Hal.”

Hallie gasped on the other end. Her next words were quieter as she evidently spoke to her physical companions. “We should all join a circus!”

This was met by loud agreement from the voices of Phoenix and Halo. Hallie chattered and shouted with them as they yelled about their new performing careers and imminent success. Hangman held the phone away from his ear for a moment before attempting to cut back in.

“Hal. Hallie. Hal.”

“Hi!” She paused. “Is this Jake?”

Phoenix made a loud wolf whistle, causing Rooster to waggle his eyebrows. Jake shoved him hard, making the aviator fall back into Payback and Fanboy.

“It’s me,” Hangman said. “You called me.”

“Oh, right!” Hallie laughed for a few minutes before Halo could be heard smacking Hallie’s arm.

“I’m asking! ****, Halo!”

Jake rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” Hallie went on over more giggling, “I really, really, really don’t need to be driving…or Fee…or Halo…”

“I’ll come get you.” Jake stood. “Tell me where you’re at.”

“No!” Phoenix’s voice interrupted. Judging by the sounds of a protesting Hallie, the former must’ve successfully obtained the phone. “I don’t want to be driven by Bagman!”

“Send Bob!” Halo cheered.

“Nooo!” Hallie whined.

Jake rolled his eyes as his other companions chuckled at him. Distracted, Rooster wrestled the phone from his hands. Some of his beer spilled as he slapped Hangman away.

“Hey, Fee. Rooster. Where are you at?”

“Bradshaw! Where are you?!”

“The Hard Deck.”

“Get over here! This place is crazy…it’s…Halo, where are we?”

"Burning Sun.”

“Burning Sun!”

Jake looked up and groaned. “That’s half an hour from here.”

“No worries, Bagman,” said Bradley, hanging up the phone. “I’ll pick up your girl too.”

“Not my girl!” Jake stood, snatched his keys, and stomped after Bradley, who was already dashing out the door.

---

Thirty minutes later found Rooster and Hangman at the entrance of the Burning Sun. It was newer than the Hard Deck, with no Navy uniforms in sight and a karaoke station in the back; the last item was likely the reason behind the ladies’ choice in venue. The Daggers scanned the space, searching for the trio.

Rooster yelled over the noise. “How are we gonna find--”

Daydream’s Italian yelling cut him off, followed by Halo cheering and an unknown, male voice yelling just as loudly in a much less victorious tone.

“Found ‘em,” said Hangman. He pointed at a large crowd to their right.

The duo pushed through to find a scene worthy of a Baroque painting. A man as tall as Hangman was on the ground, rubbing his jaw that was quickly turning purple. Daydream was standing on a nearby table, cheering and nearly knocking down a collection of glasses. Halo sat at said table, oblivious to the imminent danger, a beer bottle in each hand. At the center was Phoenix, standing over the man and basking in the crowd’s applause.

Rooster nudged Hangman’s ribs. Across the room, a bartender was beginning to sidle over.

“Alright, show’s over, folks!” Hangman announced as he clapped a hand on Phoenix’s shoulder. “Come back again tomorrow!”

Phoenix immediately shoved him off.

“Jake! You came!” Daydream cried.

“Gross,” said Phoenix. “We had…have…have it under control.”

“I’d say,” Rooster chimed in, brushing Hangman away from Phoenix's fighting stance. “That guy’ll feel it tomorrow.”

“Serves him right.” Halo stood and swayed. “Nat just gave his **** back to him.”

“**** straight!” Phoenix yelled.

After more yelling, a bribe to the bartender, and more yelling, the five aviators were situated in their proper vehicles. Phoenix and Halo had started up a rendition of “Evacuate the Dancefloor” that was just the chorus over and over in the back of Rooster’s Bronco, while Daydream was wiping away some tears from saying goodbye to the two in Hangman’s passenger seat.

“Over and out,” Rooster saluted as he drove out and joined the singing.

“You okay there, Dreamgirl?” Hangman glanced at his passenger.

Hallie nodded, then sat up straight. Jake raised his eyebrows.

“My name and Callie's rhyme! We're like…name twins!”

Jake laughed and shook his head. “Might as well be related.”

Hallie laughed and then settled down, evidently very interested in the pattern of the leather seats. The only sounds came from the wind through the cracked windows and the mild country singing from the radio. For a moment, Hangman thought she’d fallen asleep.

“...thanks for coming,” she mumbled.

“Anytime, Dreamgirl.”

---

Phoenix, Halo, and Daydream all woke up the next morning in their respective residences with matching headaches. Phoenix was the first to recover out of the three women, leaving the following text:

🔥 Phoenix 🔥: same thing next weekend? 😜

---

#daydream writes #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #top gun fanfiction #dagger squad #oc: hallie a jones #hallie daydream a jones #natasha phoenix trace #callie halo bassett #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #my fanfic is almost always pure silliness but i hope it makes you smile :) #my next oneshot might be a lil more deep but #for now we have fun! #also I'm still navigating between using their names vs callsigns so be patient lol

[fuck-customers]

Beyond Frustrated

I work in a group home, so not retail or food service related, but we're still talking about serving people. 

I get that the job will entail the people we take care of being angry or difficult or frustrating to deal with at times. I'm not bothered by that so much as I am by the fact that when there is some of this behavior there's zero consequences. I don't know what types of consequence that could be given that isn't going to be bad or create issues, but honestly. Just trying to do the job and you get your face ripped off often by the same couple of people and it gets old fast. There's also no manners, no please, no thank you, just swearing and yelling and grumbling and demanding. The other home I was in hardly EVER had these issues. So yeah. 

The bigger problem that I have currently is that my group home desperately needs two staff all the time but we're not going to get it. We have two highly medical needs people who are also often at each other's throats because one or the other gets the bulk of the attention. There's a ton of out of town appointments and there's times where we end up in urgent care or the like. One staff member is expected to medicate all of the people, take them to all their appointments, clean the house, grocery shop, meal plan, and assist the people with their goals. At least it's my shift that has to the bulk of al those things. The other shifts don't have to do the shopping, meal planning, or seemingly the cleaning because I often come into a disaster the next shift/day. Staff also drive them to the places they want to go when they want to go. That's the job. it's not why I'm upset. I get that this is the job. I'm furious that because of how busy it gets and how much might happen in one shift it should by all rights be split up between two staff so each of our people get their needs met. There's four people in our care all together. There's one of us. In a moment of weakness and feeling overwhelmed, I expressed that to one of our bigger bosses who were there that day when we had way too much for one person to handle well going on. I found out today that I can't say that we should have two staff and to just drop it. This big boss emailed my immediate boss to rat me out and complain that I had said this rather than simply talking to me directly or pulling me aside to ask if I'm doing okay or if I feel overwhelmed or anything. Nope. Just tell my boss to tell me that I'm out of line. No write up or anything, so that's good, but still. Not cool. 

THAT'S WHAT MAKES ME MAD. An employee is telling them that they feel overwhelmed, that they think having a second staff for the people would benefit the people, and that it is insane to expect one person to do this all by themselves, especially during the shift time I work during the morning/day and the response is "stop talking about it, it won't change and we don't care." No, they didn't say it this way, but that's the message. It's frustrating. It's not fair to the staff and it's not fair to the people we care for. But whatever. I'm not the boss or anything and I clearly don't know what I'm talking about. Just expect one person to do it all and then wonder why some things don't get done or aren't done as well as they could. Or why we might not be able to take the people to more things. Just ugh. 

I'm also annoyed that management insists that everyone, including the fulltime staff, work every other weekend. It means I get to work 9 out of 10 days in a row every other week and get four off before doing it again. The four days are great, but getting through the nine work days is grueling towards the end, which is perhaps why I'm so surly right now about it all. I'm almost to that four day break. One more work day to go. 

I'm just super glad that I graduated my grad school program and I am actively searching for that career job. This job worked out when I needed it to, but it's clearly time to move on. Luckily, it's possible that by the time this is posted that I might have already done so, fingers crossed.

#submissions #fuck managers

[soap-lady]

Posting this as I run out the door.

Hey!

I’m going out of town this weekend so I figured now was a good time to post this. Hope you enjoy.

Profanity warning.

Amelie rallies the troops, Marinette designs, Lila has a big scene and Felix reaches out to Marinette and Luka with an offer of friendship.

Taglist:

@fantasiame, @g-arya, @lavenderjunes, @charlietheepic7, @ahenix, @delectablycoolscientist, @kaseykay17, @vio-march-0327, @mewwitch, @vixen-uchiha, @coolspidermanmusicflower, @lady-bee-fechin, @raeuberprinzessin, @symwinter, @frieddonutsweets, @seraphkitty, @friendsofthefairies, @nickristus-dreamer, @khneltea, @jumpingjoy82, @fan-written, @woe-is-me0,@corporeal-terrestrial, @queenmjean, @theymakeupfairies, @dorkus-minimus, @idk-j-go-with-it, @aespades, @swiftie-miraculer13,@moongoddesskiana, @arty-shadow-morningstar, @ahalloweengirl, @the-navistar-carol, @bigpicklebananatree, @novicevoice, @nerd-nowandforever, @certainmuffinbagelcalzone, @irontimetravelflower, @jjmjjktth, @dopefestsuit, @morning-wolf-designs, @alcoholic-barney, @just-living5, @chocolatecatstheron, @another-cancer, @hammalammadamdam, @ichigorose

Worthy Opponent Chapter 18

Since they had lost two days due to the mysterious “accident” the cast and crew weren’t in the best of moods and lots of finger-pointing and accusations went on until Amelie called an emergency staff meeting.

Instead of her usual black suit and gray wrap-shirt she wore a double-breasted navy pantsuit cut in a military style. It had gold buttons on the front and on the sleeves near her wrists and made her look like a general commanding her troops. Instead of her usual side-braid her hair was in a low bun. Even her twinkling green eyes were solemn.

Her gaze swept over the room, stifling conversations and stood quietly until everyone was silently facing the front and waiting patiently for her to speak. It was barely seven in the morning and many people were bleary-eyed and grumpy. Fortunately they were all professional enough to hear her out, and the promise of coffee and tea afterwards did help.

She kept her hands behind her back and paced back and forth, a habit she had picked up from her husband. Geralt always paced when he had to address the crew all at once to hide the fact he hated public speaking.

“My darling friends,” she began, “some of you I have been fortunate enough to know for years.” She smiled at the people who had been working at Graham Films for nearly two decades and they stood a little straighter. She smiled at Marinette, Luka, and Mylene. “Some of you I have only known a short while but still treasure.” Marinette and Mylene might have blushed under her warm regard. Luka slung an arm around both of them.

Amelie’s face lost its smile. “I know the rumor mill has been churning the past two days and I’m sure recent events have been blown wildly out of proportion.” Her eyes grew less solemn and more kind. “Yes, there was an accident on set. Two of our cast were involved and one was mildly injured when a light fixture fell.”

She didn’t need to say the names. Everyone knew without her saying and dozens of eyes glanced briefly at Felix and Marinette. Most were concerned, a few annoyed, and at least one person wished one of them dead.

She didn’t mention the stunt that nearly went wrong because the actors and the stunt crew downplayed the seriousness of the event. She had her suspicions but played along.

“Such an accident is unprecedented in the history of our studio,” she went on. “We lead the industry in our safety standards. We have redundancies in place for every piece of equipment. Everything is built far above what Film France requires.” There were some nods of agreement.

“Everyone has personal safety equipment and we will never  take risks with safety. Our medical staff is also the best in the industry and no one will ever be asked to work in unsafe conditions, no matter how ‘cool’ a shot might be.”

There were more nods and a few tentative smiles. Amelie really knew how to work a group. Chloe took pictures of her looking commanding and heroic. They would look great in the book, even if fans didn’t know the context.

“So even one accident is not acceptable and I promise you, the cause is being fully investigated.” Lila tried her best to look as impressed with the director but wasn’t sure if she should feel angry or worried. Angry that Marinette was still well enough for a lead role and worried what she did could be traced back to her. This was the second time Felix was involved with an accident during filming and she thought it would be an unwise career move to kill or injure her employer’s son. She would have to find a way to isolate Marinette before getting rid of her. It might be a good idea to lay low for a few weeks until the investigation is over.

Amelie sighed and her shoulders slumped, looking defeated. She looked out over the crowd and for a moment Felix wanted to go up to her and give her a hug. He wanted to reassure her they were on her side, that what happened wasn’t her fault. He looked to his right and left and saw his friends felt the same way. Chloe kept glancing at Lila without being too obvious. Allen and Claude both looked grim and Allegra was probably trying to kill the Italian saboteur with her thoughts.

Finally Amelie raised her head and looked as many people as she could right in the eye. “For the past day and a half, I have wrestled with my thoughts. I’ve honestly considered shutting this production down. I can’t and I won’t risk the safety of anyone who works for me.”

There were a few murmurs of protest from the crowd, especially from some of the older cast and crew. She put her hands out, palms forward, and they quieted down to listen.

“Don’t worry,” she assured them, “everyone would get paid at least sixty percent of their promised compensation if that were to happen. That is the worst case scenario. I don’t want to do that.”

“But I wouldn’t blame anyone who wanted to drop out because of what happened. If you prefer not to say anything now you are free to speak to me privately at your convenience.”

There was some shuffling and some uneasy glances at that announcement.

“I, on the other hand, will make sure I do everything I can to ensure this production goes forward.” Amelie’s eyes took on a bit of a sheen but her face was determined. “This script is the last thing my beloved Geralt ever wrote. He wrote this as a father/son project with Felix as our darling boy made his directorial debut.” Felix blushed a little but mostly looked proud.

“Geralt never gave up,” she resumed pacing. “He negotiated with Somali pirates and got South American drug lords to back down. He wouldn’t run or give up, not unless a project was completely out of the question. For instance there was a film he was making in Guam when a typhoon was on its way. He evacuated the cast and crew and helped local officials get as many people to safety as he could. He wouldn’t give up, so...neither will I.”

There was a cheer as she finished her speech and many raised fists. It looked like some political rally and she had just announced her campaign to become Prime Minister. Felix wanted to roll his eyes at his mom’s theatrics but he couldn’t help but clap. She was still an amazing actress but he was sure everything she said was true.

Gio looked at Lila. “Isn’t she amazing?”

Lila nodded with what she hoped looked like eagerness. That woman had charisma for days and she was more than a little jealous. She could have kicked herself for trying to flirt with Allen and starting on the wrong foot with everyone. Amelie could have been an amazing mentor, especially if she never knew that Lila just planned to use her.

Lila whispered, “I hope you’re not planning to quit.”

He stared at her wide-eyed. “After a speech like that?!” He smiled, showing white even teeth against his beautiful tan skin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She gave him her best smile in return. “Me either.”

                                                       *****

After Amelie’s little rally, production kicked into high gear. Everyone to Wardrobe to Stunts to Electrical gave it their best. The main cast and some of the secondary got most of their scenes in one take and hardly anyone needed more than one or two retakes. The cast and crew seemed determined to prove they were worthy of their director’s faith in them.

Marinette was spending her morning in the Wardrobe Department because she didn’t have any scenes to shoot until the afternoon. She was working on ballgowns and evening wear for the teen main and secondary characters. Mrs. Jennings was designing the gowns and suits for the adult characters “because I’ve worked with them longer and know their tastes.” She did however take some advice from both Anna and Marinette on Asian-inspired gowns that didn’t look like costumes or harmful stereotypes.

She was having a blast designing an elegant lavender gown for Allegra before moving onto Mylene. After giving it a lot of thought and thinking about her friend’s personality, she decided on a gown that was as multicolored as her actor friend’s braids. It would be a tie-dye rainbow slip dress, a little modern for the movie aesthetic but perfect for Mylene. She originally wanted the dress to be sleeveless, but considering how shy her friend was, added semi-transparent batwing sleeves instead.

Once she was satisfied with Mylene’s dress she looked for the next person she had to design for. She looked at a name and sincerely thought of marking the name off the list and pretending she hadn’t seen it.

Lila Rossi.

She said a curse word under her breath but her kwami still heard her.

“Marinette!” she scolded, “you shouldn’t use such words at work!”

She turned to her kwami. “Really? She made my school life miserable, tried to get me expelled and nearly killed me...twice.” She shrugged. “I think I’m allowed a curse word or two when I think of her.”

Tikki floated over to her shoulder and looked over the list of names. Once she saw who her Chosen had cursed about her lips pursed as if she’d just tasted something bad.

“Nevermind,” she said after a few minutes, “but make sure no one is around to hear you when you call her that.”

Marinette giggled a little at the disgusted look on her friend’s face. “I’ll do my best.” She sighed and offered her kwami some Turkish Delight Claude had given her. “To be completely honest, I’m halfway tempted to put her in a burlap sack and tell the make-up department to give her a wart.”

Tikki laughed with her then turned solemn. “But that would be mean-spirited and unprofessional. Besides,” she gave the girl’s cheek a hug. “You never do less than your best for anyone, even someone you can’t stand.”

The girl let herself imagine Lila in an itchy burlap dress one more time before nodding in agreement. “And I won’t this time either. Mmes. Jennings and Graham de Vanily are counting on me.”

She briefly considered her color choice.  Lila seemed to favor orange but that was also Alya’s favorite color and she wasn’t about to put her nemesis in that. Still, it had to be flattering so it would look good on film. After some internal back and forth she decided on a dark olive green. It would compliment the other girl’s skin tone and eye color. Marinette began to sketch a belted olive shirt dress with a v-neck and wing collar. It quickly began to take shape and although it was much too good for the other girl, it satisfied Marinette’s fashion sense. Besides, if the dress was “ugly” Lila would whine and just slow down production. It wasn’t quite as lovely as Mylene’s or as elegant as Allegra’s but it had a sort of dark mystery the Adler character needed for the movie.

She turned her attention back to the boys’ costumes. Since Ivan was going to be in the scene as Nick Charles IV to Mylene’s Aubrey Locard, he would also need a suit. She knew her friend wasn’t much for dressing up so she decided on a faux leather jacket that was more Gothic than Victorian in black with silver accents. She also added a vest and long-sleeved shirt but without a tie and a band collar to keep it from looking too formal.

Claude was much easier to design for. She chose a Regency style coat in dark gray with an eggplant colored vest and matching tie. He’d coordinate nicely with Allegra. She made a note to look for an eggplant material with a fun pattern to keep it from looking boring. Claude was many things, but never dull. Hmm. A harlequin pattern would suit him.

Allen was next. She wanted something unusual for him but striking. She looked through some stock images online when she finally had an idea. Why not an asymmetrical black jacket with golden thorn branch embroidery on one side? Maybe a dark shirt and black and gold tie as well. She’d run it by him and see what he thought, maybe he could make suggestions if he didn’t like it.

The last two she needed to worry about were Felix and Luka and she already knew exactly what she was making for them. Felix would look fantastic in a classic long black  jacket and matching cravat. His slacks would be gray, shirt white with a tuxedo wing-tip collar and a vest in a contrasting color; cream or beige. Perhaps an antique gold color to make his hair stand out. Should he also wear a pocket watch and chain? She thought so.

And Luka, oh Luka! She put the most time and effort into his design. A long black evening coat would bring out his blue eyes and contrast nicely with his dyed blue tips. His shirt and slacks would be bright white, to show that although he seemed hostile and cold on the outside he was kind and good underneath. His vest would be silver with scrollwork embroidery in a dark gray. The buttons on the jacket and vest would be cloth covered to match. His tie would be a classic tuxedo tie but maybe he could wear some fingerless clothes to show off his so-called bad boy past…

Marinette was almost drooling when she imagined him in costume and shook her head to clear it. She didn’t have time to be thinking about boys right now! She was an aspiring designer and had patterns to make! She could think about boys later.

As she was finalizing her designs she heard a distant boom and the building shook. Tikki, who had been dozing on Marinette’s shoulder, had been startled awake. She flew up to her Chosen’s face.

She smiled at her dear baby bug. “I think you know what to say.”

The girl nodded. Designing and thinking about boys could wait until later.

She heard screaming. Much later.

“Tikki, Spots On!”

                                                           *****

The akuma was more difficult than any she’d had that summer. Hawk Moth must be back from his vacation or whatever he had been doing that kept him from sending as many akuma. It, or probably they, called themselves Kingu Mosura and demanded the head of Lycee Henri-IV’s science fiction club.

The akuma had three heads; one spit fire, one ice, and the third lightning. Its four feet caused all of Paris to shake as it passed. Ladybug dearly would have loved to have Ryuko or Viperion join the battle, but after Miracle Queen and Chloe’s betrayal, that would have been a horrible idea. Hawk Moth knew their true identities and she didn’t want to put her friends in danger. It would have been a poor strategy to keep using people whose identities had been compromised.

It had taken every bit of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s power and luck to subdue the creature long enough to locate where the akuma was hiding and purify it. The entire process took over two hours and during that time the two heroes had to recharge their kwami several times.

“Hey, LB, that creature kind of reminds me of…” Chat Noir broke off and stopped, looking embarrassed.

She raised a brow but there was no way he could have seen it under her mask. “Like…?”

He looked at her and frowned as if he was debating telling her or not. Finally he shook his head. “Nevermind. Pop culture reference. Not the time,” he replied before extending his baton. “I’ll distract it, you summon your Lucky Charm.”

He vaulted away and she marveled at how different her partner had been lately. He kept jokes to a minimum for difficult akuma, no longer flirted with her, and didn’t needlessly sacrifice himself. It was a refreshing change and she liked it, even if she wasn’t sure why it happened.

It took three city buses, a fire truck, five light poles and a DVD case but they managed to defeat the creature. The black and purple miasma fell away to reveal three teenagers. They blinked, looked at themselves and then looked at the heroes.

“Did we get akumatized?” A tall blue haired girl asked.

Chat Noir held out his hand. “Yes. I’m sorry for whatever upset you so much that you got victimized by Hawk Moth.”

The girl accepted his help and rose to her feet. “It was stupid,” she admitted.

The feline hero surprised his partner by saying, “it can’t be too stupid if you turned into an akuma.”

A curvy girl with russet brown skin replied, “yeah, it kinda was.” Her expression was sheepist and she ran her fingers through her short dark hair. “We were debating the threat levels of giant monsters and our club president countered us by saying there’s only one monster that’s a true threat to the Earth and that’s-”

The third person cut her off, brushing dirt out of his mohawk. “I’m all for discourse but a club president should learn how to agree to disagree. Sorry for cutting you off, Laure,” he told the curvy girl.

She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, Luc. You’re more respectful than Henri. That guy is a narrow-minded piece of sh-”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” The first girl ran up to her friends, waving her hands. “Let’s not curse or air our dirty laundry in front of the Heroes of Paris!” Her friends mumbled apologies, then the girl turned to her rescuers. “Sorry about that,” she smiled. “There’s been a coup over the summer in our sci-fi club when our old president had to move and not everyone’s happy,” she explained.

“Well, there are easier ways to handle a debate than violence…” Ladybug began and Chat Noir nodded in support.

“Besides, it’s hard to go wrong with Mosura,” Chat interrupted before Ladybug could stop him. She hoped he hadn’t started another argument.

“We know!” The three chorused and wrapped Chat in a hug. After a few minutes Ladybug cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt this Mosura love fest but we need to go.”

“Right! Whoops!” Laure agreed. She nudged her friends and they waved at the heroes before walking off. “Bye!”

“Mosura forever!” Luc exclaimed with a fist pump and he and his friends walked off together.

Ladybug looked at Chat Noir. “Can you meet me at the Eiffel Tower in five minutes? I need to talk about that last fight.”

He grinned, looking like his old self. “Anything for you, Bugaboo.” His eyes widened and he started babbling an apology. “I mean! Ladybug!” He coughed and then said, “I mean Ladybug.”

She just smiled and said, “I know. It’s fine.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. He was trying to do better and be more respectful and she appreciated it. “See you in five!” she yelled as she threw out her yo-yo and swung away.

                                                       *****

When Chat Noir got to the Eiffel Tower he saw that his partner was waiting for him. He waited a few seconds before announcing his presence because he wanted to look at her. She looked exhausted; her skin was pale and he’d bet there would be circles under her eyes without the mask. It was only around nine-thirty in the morning and she looked like she’d worked a twelve hour day. Was it his imagination, or did she look older?

His boots scraped against the iron platform and she looked up, smiling at him. The smile was strained and tired but he doubted anyone other than him would have noticed.

“Hey, minou,” she greeted him and patted the floor beside her.

He gave her his nearly trademarked goofy grin and sat beside her. His legs dangled off the edge of the tower and he waited for her to speak.

She sighed. It was a heavy, world-weary sigh and he had to stop himself from hugging her or offering a shoulder massage. That would be inappropriate; she’d made it clear on multiple occasions that she only saw him as a friend and he was beginning to accept that. Plus, he was dating Kagami and he enjoyed being with her. She was strong and was teaching him to be more assertive. Plus she had a secret mischievous sense of humor he adored and couldn’t wait to see more of.

“I can’t go on like this, Chat,” she told him finally. “We can’t, to be honest.”

His false ears went back in alarm. Did she want to give up being Ladybug, or maybe the Guardian? That would erase her memories! Or...did she want to get rid of him?

“Ladybug! Whatever it is, I’m sorry!” he babbled. He scrambled away from his partner and subconsciously covered his ring. “Have I been a bad partner? I thought I was doing better! I haven’t asked you out and I’ve been making fewer puns…” He looked at her face. “Or...maybe you’d like me to take on some Guardian duties? Have I not been supporting you enough?] Just tell me what you need me to do!”

To his surprise she just rolled his eyes at him. “Kitty, believe it or not, it’s not always about you.” Before he could get his feelings hurt she added, “I don’t think we can go on with just the two of us protecting Paris.” She looked him full in the face. “We need help.”

Chat eased his way back towards her. He felt ashamed of acting like she was going to snatch his ring off his finger without giving him a chance to improve. “You mean...getting more heroes?”

“Yes,” she replied and he felt ashamed of assuming the worst about her. “Hawk Moth hasn’t sent a lot of akuma lately. I think it’s because it’s summer but it’ll be over in three weeks.” Three weeks and she still had so many dresses to design. She would have to discuss her schedule with her parents and Amelie and look into online school. “And today’s akuma was nearly more than we could handle.”

He thought about it and she was right. He was nearly struck by lightning and he was sure Ladybug got scorched more than once. Yes, they couldn’t keep up with Hawk Moth once he was back in full gear. They needed help but there was a problem with that.

“Hawk Moth saw all of our temporary heroes.” It was a shock for Chat to see his best friend’s girlfriend, Max, Luka, and several of his classmates had been temporary heroes. Now, thanks to Chloe, none of them could fight by his side ever again. The risk to their families was too great and while he was old enough to defend himself, Chris, Etta and Ella were only six. He didn’t want to be the reason his best friend and his girlfriend lost their little brother and sisters.

HIs hands clenched into fists and he had to take several breaths to calm himself. He couldn’t risk becoming an akuma, even if he thought his childhood friend deserved a little payback.

Ladybug just nodded, looking sad. “For the longest time, I couldn’t come up with a backup plan.” She shrugged. “I mean, how could I come up with replacements for our team? They were incredible.”

And they were. Luka was perfect for the Snake and she couldn’t imagine anyone better than Kim to be the Monkey. But that was over now.

She winced when she remembered how Alya had cried when she told her she couldn’t be Rena Rouge any more. Nino had taken his retirement from Carapace pretty well but was still sad for his girlfriend. Most of the others had just been grateful for the opportunity to help but she could tell Xuppu missed Kim. They were so much alike.

Chat Noir growled under his breath. “This is all Chloe’s fault.” He smacked the metal floor beside him and made Ladybug jump. He shook his head in disgust. “And to think of all the times I asked you to give her another chance or talk to her about not being Queen Bee again. You were right. She’s irredeemable. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”

Really, he could kick himself for how naive he’d been where Chloe was concerned. Marinette had tried to tell him. So had Nino, Alya, and anyone else from class. They told him how she’d bullied the whole class and Marinette in particular and he’d insisted she was a good person underneath. Chloe had every chance in the world. Marinette had not only thrown her a party she’d apologized for calling her heartless.  Nothing had changed. Chloe wanted the prestige of being a hero but didn’t want to change her civilian behavior. Ladybug had let her bad behavior go for too long and so had he.

He stood up and began to pace. “I should go after her, keep her under surveillance.” It galled him to spend any more time and effort on her but it was for a good cause.

Ladybug was amazed. She’d rarely seen her partner genuinely angry. “Just...leave  her alone. She hasn’t caused any harm since Miracle Queen. Not even an akuma, as far as we know.”

She thought about the Chloe she’d seen on-set, the girl who’d risked her life to keep an akuma from hurting anyone. She had been polite when they saw each other and had even been making friends with Felix’s friends. Part of her doubted Chloe was being sincere; Sabrina was away for the summer so she was probably just bored. Still, she hadn’t tried to boss anyone around in ages, not that that would work on anyone who worked for Graham Films. They didn’t care who her daddy was.

Chat Noir’s head shot up and he stared at her like she had a giant zit on her chin. “Wait, what?! Are you saying Chloe deserves forgiveness?” He pointed in the general direction of the Grand Paris.  “She’s the reason we can't use our team anymore! I remember you telling me how Rena Rouge cried when you told her she couldn't be a hero for her own safety!”

Their roles had been reversed. He was sure the former Queen Bee deserved no mercy and Ladybug thought she should be left alone. It was weird and he didn’t like it. He was sure his partner would have agreed with him.

He tried to get her to see reason. “She betrayed us!”

She just looked at him and he could swear she was looking straight through him. “Betrayed us or betrayed you?” She looked exasperated and sympathetic at the same time. “You’re taking what she did to us awfully personally.” She looked  him up and down.  “I’d almost swear you knew her.”

Chat Noir opened his mouth to explain and she held up a hand. “I don’t want to know. What I want is some ideas about what we should do about rebuilding our team.”

He blinked and then blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Can’t we just swap the kwami?”

Ladybug froze, wondering why she hadn’t thought of that herself. “That’s...brilliant actually. Simple and brilliant. Good idea, Kitty.”

She scooted closer to him and gave him chin scritches. He pretended to pout when she pulled away.

“So,” he asked as he swung his legs, “do you know who you’ll swap with whom?”

She thought about it and instantly came up with two people. Kagami could be trusted to be responsible, even with time travel. Luka...she couldn’t let herself think about him right now...was strong enough to wield three powerful elements. They would be perfect for what she had in mind.

“Yes, I think I do.” She gave him a wide happy smile and stood up. “We’ll talk tonight during patrol. For now, I have things I need to take care of.” She threw her yo-yo. “Until tonight, Chat Noir!”

                                                        *****

Lila was not nervous.

She had dealt with Gabriel Agreste, the man who made gelato look like hot chocolate and did it with grace and ease. She doubted he knew she was using him as a stepping stone to this day.

She’d caused two accidents and gotten away with it and no one knew she was involved. Surely she could handle a huge important scene that was being directed by Felix.

It wasn’t as if she’d be on her own. Gio was in the scene with her and so was Victor. If anything went wrong she could just say they made her nervous (Gio) or she found acting with such an experienced peer was intimidating (Victor). She was very lucky to have not one but two ready-made scapegoats to choose from.

Still, Chloe was nearby, taking pictures of the set and then having Gio and Victor pose for her. She noticed she rarely if ever asked Lila to pose for her. When she tried to ask Chloe the other girl would just shrug and say she didn’t want to look biased for taking too many pictures of a former classmate. Plus Gio was an up and coming actor and the audience would be fascinated by him. She didn’t mention Lila’s rising fame at all.

Allegra was also near the set, acting as Felix's assistant. She said she was there to support her good friend’s directing debut but Lila knew she just wanted to spy on her, hoping she’d make a mistake. Really, some people would do anything to get her fired. Lila wanted to believe they were jealous of her exotic beauty, since it definitely wasn’t her wealth.

Sometimes she hated her family for not being as well off as she bragged they were. Her mother was only a junior attache and not an ambassador herself. She had to work incredibly hard after her husband had left them. Daddy had been a horrible parent but he was charming and charismatic and had taught her how to con people. In a way she missed him, but was also glad he was out of their lives so he couldn’t drag them into debt with him.

“Ready?”

She looked up and saw Gio’s tan smiling face. Really, he was so handsome and had a quiet charm all his own. He’d make perfect arm candy at all the premieres she was sure to be invited to. After all, she was playing Irene Adler, the descendant of The Woman, the only woman Sherlock Holmes had ever loved. His equal, who didn’t love him back. Such melodrama, who cared?

Lila played with one of her hair ties. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She tried to look nervous but optimistic. She’d seen Marinette look that way hundreds of times and decided it would work for her as well. She looked at her co-star with wide eyes. “Do you think I’m ready for this?” She looked down, then up at him again. “I’ve never done such a long scene before. Most of my scenes have been tiny. Now I have all these lines to remember and-” she broke off and clasped her hands together, giving Gio her best wobbly lip.

He gently put his hands over hers and looked deep into her eyes. “Breathe,” he told her and mimed the action. She mimicked him and pretended to calm down.

“You’re going to be just fine,” he smiled at her. “You’re doing this scene with me and Victor and you know all your lines backwards and forwards. We practiced them, remember?”

She smiled and pretended to be reassured. Really, he played his part perfectly with barely any prompting from her. It was what made him such a good scene partner and an even better minion...friend.

Lila gazed up at him and tried to look adoring. “You always know what to say, Gio. I feel so much better now.”

He gave her hands a squeeze and let go. “Okay, enough being nervous and unsure.” He grinned at her. “Time to go to work!”

                                                        *****

Irene Adler...rather...her thrice great granddaughter walked to her Headmaster’s office and was about to knock on the door when she noticed there was already someone waiting there. She kept her chin up and her back straight. She hadn’t been at this school very long and didn’t want to leave a bad impression.

The other person was a boy her age, who looked her up and down and gave her a sultry, knowing smile, as if he could see right through her uniform blazer. His posture was as slouched as hers was upright and his clothes, while clean, were rumpled while hers were neatly pressed.

She stopped when she was at least two meters away from him and returned his gaze, looking him over as he had done to her. Her gaze was a lot less disrespectful than his was. “I know you, don’t I?” she asked. He didn’t answer and she continued. “I’ve seen you in some of my classes.”

There was a long uncomfortable pause and she felt compelled to add, “Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Irene Adler. You might have heard of my family if you’ve attended this school for any length of time.”

She smiled and held her hand out to shake but he didn’t move to take it. Instead he sneered at her and kept staring at her. Finally he spoke.”

“The name’s Marlowe. Alfonso Marlowe.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her but didn’t smile. “You might have heard of my family too, considering we’re technically one of the Founders of this school. He scowled and then muttered, “Not that you’d know from the way people act around here.”

The  name struck a bell and she shuffled through her memory until she recognized the name. “Marlowe, as in Philip Marlowe. He’s considered to be the greatest detective of the thirties and forties. The so-called Noir Era.”

His face softened a bit and he smiled, making him look incredibly handsome. “Damn straight he was,” the boy agreed and finally shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. Hope it’s okay if I call you Irene.”

She smiled again, more sincere this time and answered, “As long as I may call  you Alfonso.”

He nodded. “I prefer Al,” his smile faded into a grimace. “Only one person other than the Headmaster calls me Alfonso and I hate it.”

Irene was smart enough to not ask who it was and instead said, “Al then. I hope we can be friends.”

Al looked her over, kinder this time. “That’ll do for a start.” He knocked on the door. “The Headmaster is expecting us. I was just waiting for you to get here.”

They heard a faint “Come in” and Al opened the door and stepped aside. “Ladies first.”

She gave him a faint curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir,” she smiled as she passed him.

He watched the sway of her hips as he followed her inside and shut the door behind him. “My pleasure.”

                                                        *****

The Headmaster was just tucking a few papers into his desk when they entered and didn’t immediately look up at his visitors. While they waited he rummaged through his desk until he was satisfied that everything was in its proper place. Irene was beginning to think he had forgotten he’d summoned them when finally he looked up.

“Ah...Miss Adler...Master Marlowe. Do sit down.” He waved at two chairs in front of his desk. He looked at her. “Or do you prefer Miss Norton?”

She gave him the tiniest hint of a smile. “Adler is fine.”

As they sat she noticed he didn’t apologize for making them wait. She supposed she could overlook that since he was in charge of the school. She decided to act gracious. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

He looked her over and seemed a bit apologetic. “Do forgive me for not greeting you sooner.” The man tried to look kind and welcoming but she could tell he was under tremendous strain and trying to hide it.

Her tone was gentle and she tried to look understanding. “Think nothing of it. I know the loss of Professor Akunin must have been traumatic, especially for his colleagues.” She avoided using the word “murder”. “It’s a tragedy.” She crossed her legs and placed her hands on her knees. “To be honest, he was one of the reasons I agreed to come to your school. I’ve read several of his papers.”

The Headmaster laughed. “You and your family have proved quite elusive for some time, my dear.” He reached into his desk and pulled out a file and opened it. From the documents she could read upside down, she knew it was hers. “If I recall correctly, we had to drag your grandfather here to attend and your father refused altogether.” He looked at her from over the top of his reading glasses. “I’m pleasantly surprised you agreed to attend after eluding us for so long.” He sat back and then asked. “Why did you?”

She smiled. “Your school has a great reputation for gifted students.” Her answer was evasive but she didn’t care. Her past wasn’t his business, even if he could find out for himself, she wouldn’t volunteer education. She went on, “and it’s hard to argue with free.”

Beside her Al laughed. “That sounds exactly like what Jack Watson said.” He nudged her shoulder with his fingers. “Nice guy, Jack. Lived for the past eight years in America but don’t hold that against him. He’s probably the only person in this school that does kiss Holmes’ ass.”

The Headmaster cleared his throat and glared at Marlowe but all the boy did was shrug in apology. He latched onto the mention of his school’s most famous student. “You’ve met young Master Holmes?”

She nodded. “In the library. We both wanted to read the same book if I recall correctly.”

The Headmaster focused all of his attention on her, once again ignoring Marlowe. “And what did you think of him?”

There was a gleam in his eye she didn’t like.  It was the same gleam her mother had when she told her about a certain boy she might like. A matchmaker’s gleam.

Now she knew the real reason she had been tracked down and invited to attend. As a direct descendant of “The Woman” she was an integral part of Holmesian lore. The only woman to ever outwit the famous detective of Baker Street. Some claimed she was the only woman Sherlock Holmes ever loved. She and her family had always had a good laugh about that. He’d known her, or rather of her for less than a week. That indicated infatuation, not love.

Irene could tell he expected an answer and she chose her words carefully. “From the short time I spoke to him, I could tell he was everything to be expected from someone related to Sherlock Holmes.

It was a diplomatic answer but the Headmaster was still disappointed. No doubt he hoped to join the Adler and Holmes lines to create an even greater detective. Some romantic idea that Irene and Sherlock had always been meant to be and this was some time-spanned second chance by proxy. Barrington seemed intelligent and attractive but she would not be a participant in their detective breeding program.

His shoulder slumped but he managed to be polite. “Well, I hope you enjoy your time here, Miss Adler.” He put her file away and pulled out a manila envelope. “This is your new student information packet.” He slid it across the table to her. “Again, forgive my tardiness. Also, you will be upgraded to the Spade living quarters. Apologies for the less than optimal room we initially put you in.”

It had been adequate but she wouldn’t complain if it meant more room. “Thank you.”

There was a bit more chit-chat about expectations she would be required to meet while attending but finally he was done. He stood up and they stood up with him.

He held out a hand to Marlowe. “Master Marlowe will show you to your new rooms.”

Al didn’t seem to mind being voluntold. “It’s on my way.”

Irene nodded, eager to be on her way. “Thank you again for taking the time to speak to me, sir.”

His smile was charming and she was reminded for a moment of her grandfather. “Not at all. Let me know if you have questions or additional information.” He led them over to the door and opened it. “Good bye, Miss Adler.”

                                                         *****

The walk to her old room was quiet. She noticed all of her things had been packed for her. She went to use the bathroom one more time and retrieved the item she had hidden taped to the underside of the sink cabinet. Then she rejoined her new companion to her new room.

“The movers will take everything to your new room,” Al was saying. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” she replied as they walked.

He laughed. “You know, they basically brought you here to try and seduce Holmes.” He looked at her sideways in the hopes of getting a reaction. “He hasn’t shown any interest in dating and they’re afraid the line will die out.”

She thought about it for a moment.  “I fail how I should care or contribute,” her tone might have been a bit snippy. Her grandfather had told her how they’d hidden for fear of reprisal by the king of Bohemia, even after Bohemia lost its independence. “Let the line die.”

He stopped and then gave her another genuine smile. “I think I’m going to like you.” He gave her a flirty wink. “Mind if I change the subject?”

Irene nodded. “Please do.”

“Well, I wanted to ask you about…”

“Cut!” Felix accepted a bottle of water from Allegra and looked at her, giving her a small nod. “Not bad. That’s lunch, everyone!”

A bell went off and the crew began to clear the set for the next shot.

Lila looked from Gio to Victor. “How did I do?”

“Great!” Gio assured her. “Your Irene is smart and independent. She won’t let herself be railroaded by anyone.”

She frowned and chewed on her bottom lip. “Felix didn’t seem to think so. He barely said anything.”

She tried to sound as pitiful as possible and hoped someone would take the bait and reassure her, flatter her ego, as Mme. Bustier’s class once did.

Victor did. “I suspect the boy’s directing style resembles his father,” he soothed. “Geralt would only say ‘good job’ or ‘good work’ when you did well.” He laughed, clearly remembering the past. “It was only when he spoke in full paragraphs that you knew how badly you’d flubbed a line or ruined a shot.”

                                                     *****

After lunch was called Felix saw Luka and Marinette walking past the set, chatting amiably. He shot out of his chair to catch them. He had something important to ask them.

Lila cut him off in an attempt to waylay him. “Hey, um, Felix?” She clasped her hands in front of her and bit her lip, trying to look nervous and sensual at the same time. She’d read in several magazines that it was always a good idea to bring a man’s attention to one’s mouth.

His eyes flicked over her and then away so fast she couldn’t be sure he’d even looked at her at all. “Not now, Rossi. I’m on my own time,” he told her and brushed past.

She got in his way again and this time he paid attention to her in a way that made her wish he hadn’t.  His green eyes iced over and she shivered despite herself. She had the distinct impression he was looking through her and not at her.

Was he still so upset about the way she’d acted towards his friend Allen? Really, how was she supposed to know the guy was asexual or hated being touched? He was gorgeous! Better looking than Gio but a lot less accessible. Allen was clearly a lost cause, especially since making him uncomfortable created enemies out of his friends.

Unfortunately that included Felix; the co-director, star, and son of her boss, Amelie Graham de Vanily. Oh, sure, Felix thought he was in charge but anyone could tell he kowtowed to his mother. Even more unfortunately was the fact she doted on her son and would do anything he asked, including blacklisting Lila if she pushed them too far. Amelie might look like  sfogliatelle but there were razor blades inside and anyone foolish enough to underestimate her would end up bleeding. Lila actually respected that about her. She thought she could learn a lot from the woman, if she would be willing to teach her.

“I-I wanted to ask you about my performance today,” she pretended to stutter and look unsure and needy. Hell, it worked for Dupain-Cheng. “I want to do a good job and want to know if you have any advice on how to improve my performance.”

“Ask Gio. I’m sure he’d be glad to help. Or Victor. He has more experience than anyone here and is always glad to help the inexperienced.”

She faked a gasp. Was he openly insulting her? Ugh. M. Agreste had warned her his nephew was stubborn, cruel, difficult to manipulate and a budding delinquent. She hadn’t taken him seriously at the time but none of her usual tricks worked on him. Celebrity stories wouldn’t be impressive, a smear campaign would fail and arranging another “accident” with him around would be incredibly stupid. She was lucky no one suspected her yet. It would be better to isolate Marinette somewhere off-set then get rid of her or arrange for someone to do it for her.

Before she could protest or ask him another question he looked over her shoulder and called out. “Gio? Victor?” He pointed at Lila. “Miss Rossi is looking for tips to improve her performance and I recommended the two of you. Give her a hand, won’t you? I have to go.” He was gone before she could say another word.

Victor and Gio rushed up to her so fast she could swear they were wearing heelies. “Are you letting the Ice Prince get to you?” Gio laughed. “Like I said, your Irene Adler is great. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Nonsense, dear boy,” the older man’s voice was smooth and reassuring. “There is no actor on Earth who cannot improve in some way. Come, my dear,” he offered Lila his arm. “We’ll discuss techniques over lunch.”

It took all of Lila’s (in her mind) considerable acting talent not to roll her eyes and groan out loud at the decrepit old man’s offer. Still, Gio was watching and she couldn’t afford to offend him until and unless she found someone better.

She took the old fashioned gallant’s arm and smiled up at him. “Your funeral speech about Professor Akunin made me cry,” she gushed. “How are you so good at evoking emotion?”

His laugh was elegant and cultured, making her want to steal that from him. “Training, practice and years of real world experience,” he answered. He walked her towards the “Villain Lunch Table”. “But since you might lack the latter, there are a few shortcuts I can teach you…”

                                                         *****

Felix strode down the hall, trying not to look like he was chasing the couple in front of him. Every now and then he’d see someone he knew from past productions and give them a nod and try to act nonchalant. Then once they weren’t looking he’d try to once again catch up to Marinette and Luka without looking like he was trying to catch up to them. Finally they reached the music room and opened the door. They looked inside, stared at each other in confusion, then closed the door. He slowed his steps as he reached them and tried not to look out of breath.

“Ah! There you are. Glad I reached you,” he smiled and tried to sound charming, or at the very least friendly. “Allen is having lunch with Allegra, my mother, and Claude. Mylene and Ivan are having a private pre-anniversary picnic, so I thought I’d invite you two to have lunch with me.”

“Really? I’m surprised they didn’t message me,” Marinette rummaged through her bag and pulled out her phone. She gave him a “hope you don’t mind if I check, but I don’t trust you” smile and he nodded. She turned it on and checked her most recent texts. “Huh. Mylene and Ivan are having a picnic near the Trocadero today. Oh! And Alya and Nino are going to a Jagged Stone Film Festival. Lucky!” She sighed and looked at Luka. “Are you alright with having lunch with Felix?”

Luka didn’t reply at first, just looked Felix up and down and then held his gaze. Felix hadn’t really given the older boy much thought. He was a talented musician, according to Allen and from what he’d personally observed, a good screen partner. Marinette was very fond of him and since Felix was slowly warming to Marinette and the possibility of being friends, he thought it might be a good idea to befriend Luka as well. He’d heard Marinette say several times how Luke’s calm, easy-going nature helped keep her grounded.

Luka didn’t look calm or easy-going at the moment. His electric blue eyes nearly glowed as he looked at Felix and the blond felt like the other boy might just bore a hole in his skull just by staring. He got the impression Luka cared deeply about Marinette, enough to snap and attack anyone who harmed her; by word, thought, or deed. He actually felt slightly nervous.

Don’t lie, Luka's eyes told him and he sighed and decided to go with the truth.

Felix sighed, took a big breath and began to speak. “Look, I know we didn’t get off on the right foot,” Marinette coughed and it sounded like she said duh under her breath. He pretended like he hadn’t heard and went on.

“Yes, I’ve been an arse to you in the past and I know I’ll probably be an arse to you in the future.” They both nodded in agreement and he smirked. “It’s part of my charm, once you get to know me.”

Marinette gave him a pity chuckle out of kindness and he gave her a hint of a smile. “I was angry at my cousin and my uncle the first time I came to Paris and although my reasons were and remain justified, I took some of my anger out on his friends and people who had done nothing to deserve it.” Like Ladybug. Looking back, he knew he was lucky she hadn’t punched him in the bollocks.

He looked at Marinette and he almost looked genuinely sorry. “You were...my cousin’s friend and...predisposed to like him over me.” He delicately avoided mentioning her (hopefully) former crush on Adrien. The more he got to know the girl the more he thought his cousin to be a fool, even though he was with Miss Tsurugi. Frankly, any girl but Lila could do better than that idiot.

“So, you initially hated me because I was friends with Adrien,” Marinette offered. Wow, it no longer hurts to say his name.

Felix sighed and nodded. “Yeah. I know, it wasn’t fair of me. You’d literally done nothing to me because we’d never met. So I picked on you for no reason. However,” he raised a brow and gave her a smug look. “I won’t apologize for goading you into taking the part of Dupin. You’re perfect for Felicity.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I know.”

She was so matter of fact Felix nearly smiled. He was really starting to like her and could see them being friends.

Luka crossed his arms and stared at Felix. He was trying to stay out of the conversation because he knew Marinette could handle herself. However, he didn’t trust Felix. He was just as good looking as his cousin, someone Marinette used to have a crush on. It was entirely possible he was using his looks to manipulate her.  The other boy looked sincere but he didn’t take chances with Marinette’s happiness and well-being.

“So, why the change of heart?” He asked after staring for nearly a minute.

Felix sighed. “I...don’t have many friends. A shock, I’m sure.” Chat Noir’s taunt echoed in his head but he ignored it. “Most of the cast and crew are more like extended family and they’re adults. Allen, Allegra, and Claude all but forced me into being friends and Chloe’s more a frenemy than anything.” He smiled a bit when he thought of his sour but trustworthy newest friend. “Then again, she’s almost extended family too.”

“She’s more believable as your cousin than Adrien is,” Luka quipped and Felix felt his respect for him go up.

“We’re getting off topic,” Marinette broke in. She really didn’t want to talk about Chloe or Adrien.

“Right,” Felix nodded and so did Luka. He looked Marinette in the eye. There it was again. That air about her that made him want to confide in her. It was as comforting as it was annoying.

“We’ve been working together for weeks now,” he replied. “During that time I’ve seen  how hard you work, splitting your time between Wardrobe and a lead role. That can’t be easy but you’re always on time, you know your lines and all the designs I’ve seen so far have been excellent.” He smiled at her. “It made me respect you.”

Luka and Marinette nodded in understanding and Felix went on. “As I worked with you I got to know you. We play off each other very well and I admire how quick-witted you are. You always stand up for yourself and refuse to back down, even though I could get you fired. Not that I would!” He hastened to assure her. “I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to have a worthy opponent to cross metaphorical swords with. You force...no...encourage me to do better. I appreciate that.”

Felix spread his hands. “So after all that, I began to like you. As a peer and as a person.” She blinked and tilted her head at him, silently analyzing every word he said.

He cleared his throat. “So...I was hoping we could put past misdeeds behind us and perhaps...be friends.” That sounded clumsy and awkward.

Luka gave him a slow blink. “I understand why you’d want to be friends with Marinette. She’s amazing.” The girl blushed. “But why am I here?”

Felix gave half a shrug. “I want a chaperone so no one can claim I was misbehaving with a co-star. There are people who’d start rumors like that to make money off the tabloids or hurt the production.” Marinette nodded as she thought about Lila. Felix looked at Luka. “And I enjoy working with you, you seem like a good sort and Marinette likes you so befriending you would be a good idea.”

The older boy considered his reply carefully before giving him a gentle smile and saying, “It’s a start.”

They both looked at Marinette.

She didn’t look convinced and Felix felt a little disappointed, thinking he was about to be rejected.

She looked him over, examined him, took him apart, examined every piece of him and then put the parts back together. “And...that’s why you’re inviting us to lunch?”

He nodded. “I thought it would be a good way to begin our friendship. We could talk away from work, get acquainted and...if you two decided you don’t want to be friends no one needs to know but us.”

She considered his words and then smiled at him. His breath nearly caught in his throat and he felt a gentle warmth, like a kitten napping in the sun. “I guess...I can take a chance on being your friend. If you mean it.”

“I do,” he replied, then looked at Luka. “Both of you.”

Luka gave him a tiny smile. “So, where are we eating?”

                                                *****

The main cast breakroom was a gift from the gods, delivered by Amelie Graham de Vanily who decided that an area where the young main cast could relax undisturbed would be best. Rather than the usual trailer, the space was an emptied study hall room for their purposes. To make the room homey Allegra had taken  to bringing a few things. Starting with three large bean bags and temporarily fit a tv with her Nintendo Switch. The room had been emptied out of tables and chairs so a long sturdy foldable table, a futon couch, and some chairs were added in. A coffee table as well as a storage rack that she would have taken apart when their tenure was over. The rack had items like blankets, a bin with a change of clothes, some board games, as well as any odd and end they might need from makeup to pens to some books and magazines. Overall quite useful for the teens to sit and relax in between scenes if they felt the need to do so.

A small coffee and tea caddy with a kettle and some tins of loose leaf tea with six personal tea strainers as well as six pottery coffee mugs all paired based off of the member of the main cast (plus  Chloe). Allegra had even taken the time to choose a cute ceramic mug that seemed to have been sculpted to resemble lace and a tea strainer that resembled a flower in a small tray labeled “Marinette”. It seemed even in the initial distrust Allegra still took some effort to be hospitable.

Marinette looked them over. “So...where’s Luka’s mug?”

"Allegra is having her pottery person make it at the moment and apparently no one has done a tea strainer based off of a music note so she's been looking for that too; she gets them commissioned for every project.” Felix took his mug and corresponding strainer.  “We have a collection back home."

Luka gave him a gentle smile. “I like that idea. Everyone gets their own personalized things so they feel comfortable and have a sense of belonging.”

Felix surprised them by smiling back. “Yes. That’s the idea.”

It was still strange to him sometimes that he had friends. Genuine friends who cared about him, even though they enjoyed taking the piss out of him constantly. He even appreciated Chloe, something he’d never thought would happen.

And now he and Marinette were beginning to be friends. Or, at the very least, she was going to try to be his friend. It wasn’t what he thought their relationship would be a month ago but it was a pleasant surprise. He felt guilty about how easily he had dismissed her as another of his cousin’s fangirls. There was more to her than that and he got the impression he hadn’t seen all of her yet.

It was even more true of Luka. He hadn’t known the other boy very long and felt he’d barely scratched the surface. He was calm, never got nervous or stressed out and if he were, no one could tell, not even a keen observer like himself. Every good actor was a dedicated people watcher. There was a lot to be gleaned from other people’s body language and mannerisms when creating characters.

Felix dug into one of the cubbies and pulled out a spare mug and tea strainer for Luka to use. It was plain but the same blue as Luka’s eyes so he thought it was appropriate. He set the tea things on the table and said, “I’ll put the kettle on so it’ll be ready once the takeaway gets here.”

Marinette perked up, curious. “Where did you order from?”

“I found an English pub right here in Paris. The name is ‘The Frog and British Library.’ They’re supposed to be pretty good. Not sure if the staff is British or French, but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.” He looked over his shoulder at them. “Sorry the kettle’s electric but it would have been too expensive to run a gas line in the building when we’ll only be here temporarily.”

She craned her neck to watch as he turned on a single coil burner and placed a copper kettle on it. “Are you sure I can’t help?” she asked.

“I’m sure,” he answered and motioned for her to have a seat at the table.

“‘The Frog and British Library’, huh?” Luka spoke up as they sat together. “I’ve never been there. I’ve heard good things about them. I’ve also heard great things about ‘The Bombardier’ and ‘The Cross of Saint George’.”

“So have I,” Felix replied, “but since neither of them deliver I thought I’d try this place. Maybe I’ll take Mom to eat at one of those places on Sunday.” His expression looked a bit wistful. “Don’t get me wrong. French food is fine but there's something about Yorkie and mash with a nice roast.”

Luka smiled, understanding the blond a little better now. “Feeling a little homesick? Your music is a little off.”

Felix shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. Luka was a bit too insightful. “That could be because I’m hungry.”

He wasn’t sure if the blue haired boy believed him or not but he didn’t press either. “Maybe,” was all he said.

Marinette decided to change the subject as gently as possible. This “new friendship” was still fragile and the last thing she wanted to do was offend him ten minutes in. “Hey, I’ve never had English food before. What’s it like?” She smiled at him and looked genuinely curious.

He had no reason to doubt her sincerity (yet) so he elaborated. “Very rich and more fried foods than you French are used to.” He smiled as he remembered his father telling him about how his mother learned English people eat eggs and sausage at breakfast instead of fruit and pastries.

“Is it true you eat beans on toast for breakfast?” Luka wanted to keep the conversation going and did his part to avoid awkward silences. He hadn’t interacted with Felix as much as Marinette had but he did remember the nasty video message the other boy had made to spite his cousin. He recognized that grief did strange things to people and often brought out their worst side but it didn’t excuse being a jackass.

“Oh, yes. And blood sausage.” He grinned as he saw Marinette shudder. He pretended he hadn’t seen her as he continued. “There’s also sausage, a few rashers of bacon, mushrooms and tomatoes, eggs and hash browns.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t think I could move after eating all that. Breakfast should be light.”

He scoffed. “Just because you can live on croissants doesn’t mean the rest of us can.”

She gasped, slightly offended. “It’s baguettes, you ignorant clod, and don’t forget it!”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Delivery for Felix Graham de Vanily?”

“That’s me,” Felix stood up and went to the door. He looked over his shoulder at his companions. “Let me introduce you both to the wonders of the Sunday Roast.”

                                                            *****

This is going better than I expected Felix thought as the three of them ate. He and Marinette debated the differences and similarities of British and French cuisine while Luka asked him about what sort of music he liked and told him stories about living on a boat. He threw in a few comments and tiny bits of information about himself here and there and they responded. He was glad they didn’t press him about his life or family relationships. They stuck to topics like food and how the movie was going. It was pleasant to spend time with them and he wanted it to continue.

He felt his shoulders relax ever so slightly as he watched Luka recount a story about how Marinette nearly tripped and fell in the Seine and watched the girl blush adorably. It was clear to anyone with half a brain cell the two had romantic chemistry and wondered if they were dating. He hoped not; romance on set might be a pretty story for the media but it could get in the way of getting work done, especially if it soured. He’d seen it happen before and only a handful of people he knew who met at work were still together. Claude and Allegra were one and so were a few people in the Stunt Department. To be fair, all of them worked on their relationships.

Being surrounded by people in love all the time had irritated him in the past but every now and then he wondered what a romance of his own would be like. He hoped they would be as smart and quick-witted as himself but also kind, loyal, and trustworthy. It wasn’t something he wanted to seek out but he couldn’t help being curious.

They gathered up their empty food containers and threw them away.  Felix brought their attention to a smaller bag he’d been saving. “I know neither of you have had afternoon tea with us before, so I thought I’d give you a taste.” He put the kettle back on and emptied the contents of the bag onto the table. “It’s not much,” and it wasn’t, “but as a bread and pastry connoisseur, Marinette, I wanted your opinion of Battenburg cake and scones.”

Luka rifled through a drawer and found some butter knives, forks, plates, and a cake knife. He sliced up the cake but let everyone serve themselves.  Marinette looked delighted to try the yellow and pink dessert and both boys couldn’t help but smile as she bit into it. She sat quietly and frowned as she ate her slice.

Felix tried to be patient but finally he couldn’t wait and needed to know what she thought. “Well?” he prompted.

“I like the apricot jam and the marzipan,” she said at last, “but the cake itself is...bland.”

He scoffed. “If it were as flavorful as the marzipan, you’d be overwhelmed.”

“Well, I heard the inspiration was actually something known as Domino Cake and…”

Luka watched with amusement as the two continued to debate pastries while eating scones with jam and clotted cream while washing them all down with tea. Finally he suggested they go sit on the bean bags and take a nap before shooting in the afternoon. To his surprise they agreed and they settled in to sleep off their meal.

Felix hadn’t expected to fall asleep. He usually had trouble sleeping around strangers but he must have eaten more than he thought he had; the Sunday Roast had had healthy portions and he must have fallen into a food coma.

He woke up to the smell of almonds and apricot and found  himself up against Marinette’s side. She was still asleep, dark lashes contrasting with her fair skin. She was breathing softly into his ear and he could see she still had a bit of marzipan on her lips.

Luka was on her other side, snuggled against her for warmth. His eyes were closed and there was a hint of a smile on his face. His face was relaxed in sleep like Marinette’s. Every now and then he would sigh as if content. Well, considering who he was sleeping against, no one could blame him.

Felix remembered the first time he and his friends had had a sleepover. It had been Claude’s idea, who thought he had needed emotional support after his horrible first trip to Paris. They had stayed up until dawn watching the first movies they’d ever been in and picked apart their own performances and then critiquing each other. There had been laughs and mock arguments and he couldn’t stop smiling, happy he had other people to talk to besides his mom.

Eventually they had all fallen into a “cuddle puddle” on the floor and slept until noon. Falling asleep with Luka and Marinette had a similar feel to it. There was something in his subconscious that made him think he might be able to trust them. A bit.

He closed his eyes and decided to go back to sleep. Marinette nuzzled his cheek with hers and mumbled something about a silly kitty.

I could get used to making friends. He cracked an eye open and glanced at his latest companions before closing his eyes again.

Better not tell Claude. He’d just get jealous.

#Worthy Opponent AU #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #lila rossi

[xxiamtiebrousxx]

The After Crisis (Medic x Reader) One Shot

A/n: I know, I know. Part one was a good story but this was requested by @susisamongus. I really wanted to do it, so I did. Part two of Crisis. Small Sniper x reader. Mentions of  blood, past murder and trauma. 

In my previous tale, I mentioned how I was at peace. We had won the war and averted the crisis. That was a partial truth. It took a while to achieve peace. It was hard trying to move on. 

It was two months after the “Great Teufort Crisis” event as the world put it. Our dream home was a work in progress. We had reunited with the other mercenaries. Medic and I moved into a small motel in town. It was what we could afford at the time. I brushed my teeth, preparing for bed. Medic was in the bedroom, catching up on his studies. He was preparing to renew his medical license. Since we returned to society, he had been wanting to save lives again.

I finished brushing my teeth and made sure I flossed. I wash my face and leave the bathroom. Ludwig was passed out on the bed, snoring softly. All week he was studying nonstop. He was just tired. I kiss his forehead. I take his book out of his hands, placing it on the nightstand. I take the other bed and go to sleep. 

I tried to at least.

I start to toss and turn. Every night, the same nightmare would occur. I’d wake up gasping for air, emerging from a lake in the forest behind Barnblitz. I can feel the freezing temperature, dropping each second. It feels so real. It would always be foggy, just like now. There’s this blue mist that surrounds the small lake. Like I’ve done many nights before, I get out of the water and look around. There's always the same two shadows that appear in front of me. They call my name and I try to run, but I can’t. I know I can’t move, yet I still struggle to. 

And like every night, they reach out their hands, whispering, “Just promise you’ll remember the good times.”

My heart starts racing as the shadows move closer. I continue to struggle. No matter how hard I try, I can’t escape their grasp.

Then I wake up screaming. 

I’m drenched in sweat. My hands are cold and clammy. Ludwig didn’t wake up like he used to. I guess he moved on.

But I didn’t.

*>/<*

I didn’t sleep at all. I stayed up until Ludwig woke up. I hid under the covers, pretending to be asleep. 

“Guten morgen,” Medic says, removing the covers. A big smile dons his face. I smile back. 

“Morning,” I reply, yawning. I roll out of bed, landing on my feet. “I’m starving,” I say. “Are we getting room service?” Ludwig folds the covers neatly, smiling.

“I have a better idea,” he replies.

They were serving a weekend special at the diner. Buy two combos and get one special free. It has been a while since I have eaten pancakes. Ludwig holds my hand as we walk down the sidewalk. The town was preparing for a celebration. The workers clean the streets, put up banners, and set up everything required. Since Teufort was freed, the council was trying to throw me a big victory. Unfortunately, the day I was to receive a medal, I would have to make a speech.

As soon as all the clones and bots were destroyed, the government was able to come in and clean everything up. The Badlands were reopened. Gray Gravel Co. was shut down for affiliation with Sniper and Mann co. branched out creating a humanitarian project to help rebuild Teufort. The remaining clones and bots were executed. Some were thrown into jail.

I would have preferred that.

“Oh look at that,” I say, stopping. “They sell mini me dolls now.” Across the street, people sold toys that look just like me. Ludwig and I approach the small vendor’s market. I picked up a plushie (class name). The toy looked just like me. The same hair color, same eyes, same everything. Somehow, the town got word of the REDs and BLUs because they were now selling us as toys and other merchandise. Maybe it was the surviving scout from the other team.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the small Sniper plushie. Why would they have that here? My heart starts pounding against my chest. It’s a simple toy, why would it be affecting me? “I need to leave,” I say. Ludwig grabs my hand and follows me. I crashed into a tourist and his son. The father looks awfully familiar with dark sideburns which were neatly trimmed and a five o’ clock shadow. He wore glasses and a slouch hat with a lifted up flap. His son wore a red shirt and a baseball cap, sucking on a small lollipop.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you,” the father says brightly. I pant, heavily. I blink several times but I don’t see the man or his son anymore. Instead, Sniper stands before me with Scout by his side. 

I’m back in the forest for a brief moment before I return to reality. Ludwig is shaking me, calling my name.

“Y/n, what happened?” he asked. He grips my shoulders, sweating. There’s concern in his eyes. I start to tear up.

“I- I don’t know,” I whisper. He pulls me into a loving embrace. “I just want to go home,” I reply.

*>/<*

The team comes over for a pool day at the motel. Even Pauling came along. I sit under the palm tree’s shade. I felt sick. The men were urging me to join in the fun as they splash around, laughing.

“Are jou going to join them?” Medic asks, sitting next to me. I look away from him.

“I would,” I say.

“Then why won’t jou?”

“I’m afraid if I jump off the deep end and resurface, I won’t be in the pool,” I reply. “I’ll be back in Barnblitz.” Ludwig gently caresses my face.

“I’ll make sure you won’t go back there,” he says. “I swear it.” I smile ever so slightly. I stand up and walk to the edge of the pool. It isn’t deep and the water is clear. I just had to keep calm.

Inhaling, I close my eyes and dive into the deep end. The water weighs me down a bit. I can see the guys swimming around. The laughter above is muffled. I resurface, gasping for air.

But my heart drops at the sight.

The blue mist surrounds the pool, which has transformed into a lake. There is dirt and grass instead of concrete. The trees tower over me. Barnblitz is visible in the distance. All the other mercs are gone.

It’s just me.

“Hello?” I called out. I get out of the water. 

“Y/n.” I whip around. There’s no one there.

“Hello?” I call out again.

“Y/n.” 

I scream, backing away. Both Sniper and Scout stand before me, reaching out. I can’t see their eyes and blood dribbles down their mouths. My feet slip off the edge and I fall back into the water. I gasp for air but it’s useless. My lungs fill up with water and I pass out.

“Just promise you’ll remember the good times.”

*>/<*

We all sit on the beds back in our hotel room. I was fine and awake now. Ludwig saved me from drawing. No one knew what happened exactly. One minute I’m getting out of the pool, ignoring their calls for me and the next thing they know, I’m screaming and drowning.

Miss Pauling talks to the Teufort Bystander. They wanted my interview, my thoughts on knowing Sniper, my thoughts on what it was to be on the inside, my thoughts on being the one responsible for ending his reign of terror. She tells them it’s too much for me to handle and declines their offer. But they keep fighting for the interview.

“I’ll do it,” Ludwig says. “I was there as well. I knew Herr Sniper. They can interview me tomorrow.” Miss Pauling tells the newspaper company of Medic’s decision and hangs up. I look up to him.

“Are you sure?” I ask. He nods. Demoman stands up, stretching his back.

“Well, we oughta get going,” he says. The rest of the team stands up. We all shake our hands and say goodbye. Everyone gives me a hug as they leave for the door. I pat their backs. They leave, shutting the door.

Medic locks the door and turns to me, his hands on his hips. He bites his lip. I grab the blanket on the bed and wrap it around me. I lay on the bed, covering my face completely. He sits next to me.

“Are we going to talk about it?” he asks, referring to the pool incident.

“No,” I reply, burying my face into the mattress. “It’s too much pain.” He sighs.

“Have you been having nightmares again?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Every night it’s the same dream. I can’t sleep well anymore.”

There is silence. I feel the tears well up in my eyes. “Ludwig?” I ask.

“Ja?”

“Are we? Are we going to be fine?” I ask.

“Of course we are,” he answers. I yawn.

“I’m tired,” I say. I roll over onto my back. Ludwig kisses my forehead. 

“Go to bed,” he whispers, “I’ll try to stay up for as long as I can.” I smile and close my eyes. 

*>/<*

I open my eyes. It’s dark now, maybe past midnight. I’m under the covers, tucked in neatly. Ludwig is next to me, propped up and wide awake. He breathes heavily, as if he was gasping for air. I prop myself up on my elbows.

“Medic, are you okay?” I ask. He wipes a tear off his face. “Are you crying?” Not once did I ever see him cry. He sniffs.

“Jou know how jou’ve been having nightmares?” he asks. I nod. “Well, I’ve been having them as well. Not as often though.”

“What do you dream about?” He sighs. 

“It’s the night the war ended. I always see the final capture point of the payload. You stand before the fire, screaming up to the sky and fall to your knees. I try to reach out for you, but you look up, smiling weakly at me. I reach out for you but the flames consume you and I wake up.” He wipes another tear off his face. “You know, I thought I would be able to move, but I guess that isn’t true.” I hug him tightly.

“I’ll be here for you,” I whisper. “We’ll get through this, I swear.”

*>/<*

A couple days had passed. It was time for the speech and the award ceremony. I hide behind the red curtain. Mayor Mike talks to the people about the history, recent events and me. Ludwig and the others are in the crowd. I notice him and he smiles, waving. I wave back. Saxton Hale and the Administrator are there as well. Even Scout’s mother was there. It was killing me. I couldn’t bear to see her. It was my fault her son was dead.

Sniper’s parents are there as well.

I feel sick as I see them take their seats. My stomach flutters with nausea. I’m sweating and breathing hard. “I can’t do this.” Mayor Mike announces my name. I grip the curtain. I was going to throw up.

“Come on out Y/n,” Mike says. I swallow down the urge to vomit and emerge. I put on a smile I know I can’t hold for long. The people applaud. 

“Hi,” I say. “How are you all?” I ask. The audience mumbles their responses. I scan the area. Ludwig gives me a thumbs up. “So, as some of you may know, I was uh, I was one…” 

I look up into the balcony. For a moment, I see Scout. He stares right back at me with dead eyes. I close my eyes and look away. When I look back, he’s gone. I nervously chuckle and return my attention to the crowd. “So, where was I?” I ask. “Ah, yes, um. So as some of you may know, I was the one to end the crisis.” The people cheer and whistle. I try to continue but I can’t.

Amongst the crowd is Sniper. He’s there with the same cold eyes Scout had. “So, uh…” I begin to stutter. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I tell myself, I’m hallucinating, he’s not there.

But when I open my eyes, he’s still there, but this time, he’s calling my name. Scout is next to him. I feel the tears roll down my cheeks. I feel so sick I throw up and scare the audience. I look at them, crying. “I’m sorry,” I say.

I ran off the stage, running down the aisle. 

“Y/n!” Ludwig runs after me. 

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” I yell. I pick up the pace and manage to outrun the doctor.

I have nowhere to go, except for home.

*>/<*

I walk around the burned building. There are skeletons from the clones I killed. I looked around, crying. The tears blur my vision. I walk outside and enter the garage. Everything is still intact. It’s like we never left. I leave our base and walk to the forest behind Barnblitz.

I find a good spot in a clearing and fall to my knees. I collapse, sobbing and screaming. 

“Why, why, WHY?!?!” I yell. “WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TAKE ME SERIOUSLY?!?!” 

I couldn’t blame Sniper for all my troubles. It was my fault. Had I not made the joke, we wouldn’t be here. I had simply helped him defend himself, we wouldn’t be here. 

It was all my fault.

At this point, I’m sobbing so hard, I don’t hear the person behind me. They sit next to me. I look up from the ground, wiping the tears.

“Ya know, your crying could be heard from all the way in 2Fort,” they say. I gasp, my voice trembling.

“Scout?” I ask. He chuckles, grinning.

“Long time no see,” he says. “How are ya? Wait, that’s a bad question.”

“H-how are you here?” I ask. He shrugs.

“All I remember is getting shot by the gazillion snipers and next thing I know, I’m in an audience hearing you speak.” I sit down and extend my legs. Scout looks at me, smiling gently. “I know what’s happened,” he says. “I can feel my ma’s grief.”

“It’s all my fault,” I whisper. “She wouldn’t be suffering if it wasn’t for me.” I feel the urge to cry again.

“No, no, no, no,” Scout says. “You can’t blame yourself. It’s all in the past now.”

“That’s the problem,” I say. “The past won’t stay where it belongs. I can’t sleep at night, I see you and Sniper everywhere, the people want to glorify what I did. They can’t see the monster.” Scout rubs my back. His face shows concern.

“How can you say that?” he asks. “You are the bravest person I’ve ever met. You were willing to die so I could survive. I’ve never met anyone stronger. You are not a monster. You are someone willing to do whatever it takes to keep your family safe. What makes you human is that you seek forgiveness for what you’ve done. And Y/n, I forgive you. So please, forgive yourself.” I smile at him. He’s crying as well, his lip trembling. “So, before I go? Can you promise Ma that I’m at peace? Tell her I love her as well.” I nod. He stands up, but I grab his hand.

“Do you have to go so soon?” I ask. He weakly smiles, nodding.

“Heaven’s waiting for me,” he says. “There’s foosball up there.” I sniff.

“Goodbye Scout,” I whisper.

“Bye Y/n.” In a flash of light, he’s gone. All that’s left in his place is a baseball. I grabbed it. The words “Don’t forget” are written neatly on the ball. Leave crunch under someone’s feet. I look up.

“Uh, mind if Oi sit next to ya?” I  gasp, trying to scramble away, but I stop and calm down. Sniper stands before me, rubbing his neck. “Long time no see,” he says, sitting down. He clears his throat. “Y/n, let me start first.”

“Go ahead,” I reply.

“Oi’m very, extremely sorry that I ruined everyone’s life,” he says. “Oi was tired of losing and Oi got so mad Oi didn’t see who Oi was hurting. Oi never meant to hurt you. Oi never realized what Oi was fully doing. Oi tried to fix it but you ended up doing it for me.” He takes my hands. The tears glisten in his eyes. “Oi wish Oi could go back and undo my mistakes. Please, forgive me. Oi can’t bear to see you loike this anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re forgiven,” I say. My voice cracks. It’s hard to control my tears. I start sobbing, burying my face in Sniper’s chest. “I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you,” I say. “Just come back, please.”

“No can do,” he says. “Oi get a limited time here.” He starts crying as well. 

“I’ll miss you,” I say.

“Tell my parents Oi love ‘em,” he replies. “Tell them Oi’ll be waiting for their arrival. And tell Medic that he’s a lucky bloke. Oi don’t deserve you, he does. Make him happy for me,” he says. I look up at him.

“I will,” I say. He smiles, running his fingers through my hair.

“Oi’ve always loved you,” he says, “and Oi’ll never stop loving you. It would’ve never worked out.”

“Bye Sniper,” I say, weeping.  “Don’t you ever forget the good times, don’t you ever.” He nods.

“Oi’ll see you when the time comes. Bye.”

*>/<*

I find Medic wandering around Barnblitz. He calls out my name. I approached him, the tears dried on my face. 

“What happened?!?” he exclaims, pulling me into an embrace. 

“I did it,” I replied. I grip the baseball in my hand and look up to Medic, smiling. “Let’s go home.”

*>/<*

Two more years pass. Heavy sleeps next door, his snores shaking the walls. Ludwig has his arms around me. It’s late and I’m still awake. I don’t have nightmares as frequently, but they still exist. Medic and I got married a couple of months ago. It seemed the right choice. He finally got his medical license back and worked as a doctor in the Teufort hospital. I kept my promises and told Sniper and Scout’s parents that they were fine. I was forgiven by them for what happened and a great weight was removed.

“Ludwig, are you up?” I ask, yawning.

“I am now,” he says. “What do you need?” he asks.

“Remember how you said you wanted to be the one to bring me peace?” I ask.

“Ja,” he replies. “What about it?” I smile and give him a small kiss on the lips.

“It worked,” I whispered. He kissed me back.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” I replied.

Just promise to always, always, remember the good times.

#Team Fortress 2 X Reader #Tf2 X Reader #Team Fortress 2 X Reader One Sho #Tf2 X Reader One Shots #Romance #Fluff #One Shots #Action #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 medic x reader #medic x reader

[mollybecameanengineer]

Déjà Vu

word count: 1372 | seasons 7-11 | AO3 Link

Summary: Who says you can't go home again? Ruminations on the life and times of Dana Scully and Fox Mulder.

It restarted the same way it had started the first time. 

The first time, he brought her back to his place after she’d shot Donnie Pfaster. Her mom was out of town, and she had not wanted to go to a hotel. He knew that was code for she didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t let her know he knew. 

“Thanks for letting me stay,” she said. He heard her drop her luggage by the fish tank as he rummaged through the closet looking for extra towels and sheets for the couch. 

Setting the linens on top of her bag, he flopped onto the couch next to her. A thick silence grew in the room until she asked, “Got anything to drink?”

It was clear she didn’t mean tea. 

The coffee table was littered with the remnants of a six pack of beers when she kissed him. The kiss wasn’t soft and sweet, but rough in its urgency. 

He returned the kiss with equal energy. 

When she climbed into his lap and started pulling at his shirt, he grabbed her hands. “Scully…” he breathed. 

She freed her hands and went back for his shirt. He grabbed them again. “We’ve been drinking. It was a terrible day.” Their eyes met. “I want this, but I don’t want you to regret it.”

She paused, before kissing him again, this time soft and slow. She then stood and extended her hand. “I want this too. Three beers isn’t enough to make me not know what I’m doing. Just enough to let me do what I want.” He took her hand and she led him to the bedroom. 

That was the night Fox Mulder tasted Dana Scully for the first time. 

True to her word, she hadn’t regretted it. In the morning they’d done it again, slower and more relaxed than the night before. 

And then they’d gone to work to answer questions about Donnie Pfaster. 

The first months were confusing. They weren’t dating — she didn’t want him to take her to dinner or out to a movie. Things were like they always were, chasing monsters and fighting conspiracies. The only real difference was sometimes after work they’d fuck until they both collapsed in a sweaty heap. Once he tried to talk about what was happening and she shut him down. “It’s fine, Mulder.” 

He didn’t press. He let her take the lead. Because, for him, being with her was the only choice, all others were wrong. 

After he’d returned from England, he felt a shift. She murmured that she loved him in the haze of post-cloital bliss. They started spending the night together without having sex, having breakfast together, making plans for the weekend. Like real couples do. 

The end of their relationship was cemented in its broken beginnings. Just months after it started, he’d left her to raise their child alone. Their son who was then lost to them. They were thrown back together, running from the FBI, never talking about any of what had happened or what the future held. 

The closest they’d ever come was on the beach in Santa Barbara. Scully kept turning them south, towards San Diego, the place she’d lived the longest as a child. The place her brother Bill lived. 

“It’s too dangerous.” His hand was entwined with hers, their toes creating divots in the sand as the water receded. “They’ll be watching your family.”

She stared out to sea, to the horizon where the sun was setting behind the oil platforms. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep running.” She turned to face him, tears budding in her eyes. “I miss my family. I miss my mom. God, I miss Bill!” She half laughed, half cried. 

He took her into his arms. “If you miss Bill this really must be serious.” She laugh-cried into his chest, and he rubbed her back. “We’ll figure something out then.”

They left California and headed back east. Dana Scully resurfaced. She bought them a house forty-five minutes outside of DC. She worked to renew her medical license and restarted her life as a doctor. 

He hid in their little house, wondering when the FBI would catch on that all they had to do to find him was walk into the home of Dr. Dana Scully. 

One day Mulder woke up and they’d lived in the little house for nearly a decade. And they’d gone from two broken people in love to two broken people coexisting. It’d been months since they’d had sex, months since they sat together on the couch watching a movie and having a good laugh. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her smile. 

She had wanted them to go to counseling. He submitted to her request. They’d only made it three sessions before he put a stop to it, insisting that they were fine, that the counseling did nothing. 

Six months later she walked out the door for the last time. Six months after that he found himself ideating suicide. It took another six months before he finally got help. 

This time, sixteen years after the first time, she’d also been drinking. They’d gone to eat after her mother’s funeral, and after a second glass of wine she abandoned her side of the booth to sit next to him. She leaned against his arm and asked him to take her home. When he started to take her back to her place she amended, “No, our home.”

She was sober by the time they reached the little house. Nonetheless, as she reached to undo his fly he grabbed her hands. “I don’t want you to regret this. It’s been a hell of a day.”

She freed her hands, then reached up to stroke his face. “I want this.”

He let her lead him upstairs. It was better than the first time, he felt no nervousness, knew exactly what she wanted from him. 

That night she slept in his arms. 

Like the first time, their union didn’t mean they were a couple. They were spending more time together outside of work — movie nights were back on, typically ending with them both passed out on the couch. Infrequently she would come to him to satisfy a need, be it cuddling or taking him to bed. Again he didn’t press, not wanting to jinx whatever was happening. 

They were driving back from Henrico County when he decided to change their destiny. The night before she had come to his half of the motel room, feeling old and lonely. He’d danced around what he wanted to say, waiting for her to say it first. But she turned the conversation into sex before anything real could be communicated. 

They’d been silent for some time. He’d put on The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. She was humming off key to Starman. 

“I want you back,” he blurted out, somewhere outside of Fredericksburg. 

Her humming came to an abrupt stop. 

“I want to be pushing your wheelchair with my wheelchair because we are together and happy.” She remained silent, and he desperately wanted to look at her, try to read what she was thinking. But he kept his eyes on the road. “You were my one in five billion, and it’s over seven billion now, so,” he paused. “You’re it for me.”

More silence. He stole a glance, she was looking out the side window. 

“Scully?”

“I don’t want it to be how it was, at the end, or really even in the middle.”

“Me neither.” Another pause. “I can’t promise it will be perfect this time, but I can tell you that I’m in a better place. On my meds. Older and wiser.”

“Older’s right.”

He snorted, before turning serious. “Older is right. In the grand scheme of things, I don’t have a lot of time left. I don’t want any regrets when I shuffle off this mortal coil. And not at least trying to make things work again with you… that would be a huge regret.”

An hour later they arrived at their little house. Mulder felt light with possibilities, with second chances and new beginnings. 

This time, he wouldn’t fuck it up. 

tagging @today-in-fic

#x files fanfic #the x files

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Established Relationship Masterlist

a third kind of madness. (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton E, 9k

Summary: Unfortunately for him, he’s never really had the time to sit down and paint Luke properly. He tried before, when they were younger, but Luke had been restless and bratty, never sitting still for very long before he got bored or hungry or horny.

or, in which Ashton makes the most of his time off work by painting his beautiful boyfriend Luke.

Honey & I (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) luke/ashton M, 3k

Summary: Luke and Ashton get off in a laundry room. Just because.

Loaf Love (ao3) - cornflowerblue (daydadahlias) calum/ashton T, 4k

Summary: Ashton and Calum cat-sit for a weekend.

i got you right where i want you (ao3) - expectopatronuz michael/calum, luke/ashton T, 7k

Summary: 5 times Michael and Calum’s anniversary went wrong and one time it didn’t.

Ildsjel (ao3) - elivigar luke/ashton M, 4k

Summary: It’s a heavy suit of armour, Luke knows. It creates bruises and dents on Ashton’s beautiful body, and despite how much Ashton loves it, despite how proud he is of all the personal growth he’s had to do to be able to wear it seamlessly and move gracefully in it, it still weighs him down and becomes more of a burden than a helpful tool on occasion.

He needs to take it off sometimes to let his body heal and regenerate new strength to be ready for the next time he’s expected to put it on.

Luke appreciates being the person who most often gets to help Ashton disarmour; it’s a privilege he’s never taken for granted.

I love you, It's all I do (ao3) - beendreaminglikeafool luke/calum G, 2

Summary: Luke loved spring.

Some of his favorite memories were made in the springtime: getting his driver's license when he was seventeen, his first kiss, first date, first boyfriend, moving out of his parent's house.

Those were little milestones that flashed through Luke's mind whenever he'd look at the calendar and notice the change, from winter to blooming spring.

Line Work (ao3) - ashtonhours (heartandmindxx) luke/ashton, michael/calum M,

Summary: Ashton Irwin, 07/07/94, no known medical conditions and not under the influence of drugs or alcohol – and originally from Sydney, as it turns out – is looking to get a bird on his neck.

“A California condor,” he says for about the twelfth time, “on my nape.”

a story about boundaries, trust, and a line in the sand.

Out of Touch (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) michael/calum T, 5k

Summary: In theory, having a “tour dog” should have been the best thing, the greatest thing to happen to them in a while. In reality, it kind of is. Sort of.

Maybe.

(Or, they get a tour dog and Michael is totally not jealous when Calum starts giving more attention to the dog than him.)

Remind Me (ao3) - cornflowerblue (daydadahlias luke/ashton E, 4k

Summary: Ashton catches Luke frowning to himself at Calum’s pool one afternoon, and decides to remind him how pretty he is. 

Summer Days (ao3) - malumsmermaid michael/calum G, 1k

Summary: Michael and Calum are spending their summer off from college working at a local summer camp in their college town.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #establishedrelationship #establishedrelationship masterlist #masterlists

[janiceloreen]

(Warning: medically explicit, and to serve a reminder to men that this post is no laughing matter, and the issue cannot be ignored, so please take very good care of yourself in good health!)

I said I was going to write more posts,……..but it was two months ago. Greeting 2023 was not all I expected and it came down to simply a medical halt in my family. Two days after Christmas, my husband started to not feel well, and complained of a dull soreness “down there” (groin/penis area). I took a look at his area and knew this wasn’t good. The area was red and swelling. Husband went to see the doctor the same day in the afternoon. The doctor was a lady, and without checking his area and ordering bloodwork, she jumped to conclusion that he has STDS and told him to “stop sleeping around”. He looked at her in disbelief, as he saw she gave him a bad judgmental, rude manner attitude. So, she did not do much for him but to send him home and get better. By New Year’s Eve, it got worse that he got admitted overnight at the local small town hospital for IV antibiotics and monitoring. By morning, on New Year’s day, i had to drive my husband to the city hospital 2 hours from home (don’t worry, my boys are old enough to care for the house, and my neighbours checked on them like as if there are no parties being held) to be seen by a urologist. I stayed by his side.

Within 4 hours in ER, with ultrasound and CT scan completed, the urologist/surgeon came to see my husband and told him he needs an emergency surgery that night as the scan showed the unexplained injury to his penis and scrotum and the swelling from UTI that needed to be brought down to normal. My husband’s cousin texted me to come to her house in the city for supper while he underwent surgery. She and her family had the guest room ready for me to stay overnight. The surgery lasted three hours to repair the damage as well to drain the infection. So his cousin and I went back to the hospital that night to see my husband as he was out of recovery from surgery and wheeled to his own room. It seemed that while he was happy to see his cousin and talked a lot with nurses, he didn’t seem to remember I was here. I try not to let it bother me, so I had to prepare myself to be a caregiver to him.

That night, I didn’t sleep well at all. It wasn’t the guest bed that was not comfy. It was dreams of changes in routines that I have to put way more effort to helping my husband recover. By morning, my husband’s cousin put together cranberry juice and snacks to keep my husband happy and occupied in the hospital for a few days. Husband wanted me to go home and care for our boys while he was in good hands of nurses who changed his dressings twice a day every single day. He spent a good six days in hospital until discharge day as I drove back to the city to take him home. The local pharmacist prepared the prescriptions for him upon getting home. Everyday, he has to have his dressings changed to keep his incisions clean and infection free. In week mornings, he has to go to the homecare office to get his dressings changed. Weeknights and weekends, he has to go to the local hospital for the nurses to change his dressings. I had to drive him twice a day, which threw me off on the routines. He was the breadwinner of the household, and because he cannot work until further notice, I had no choice but to go back to the workforce on a part time position, cleaning rooms at a luxury chain hotel. Would you believe I lost 60 pounds in a month, cleaning up to 15 rooms within 8 hours per day? Not sustainable on my weight loss, but at least I’m not a heavy woman now.

I’ll continue my story as bed is calling me.

[penig]

Back to the foot doctor today. I’ve been taking it easy all week because on Monday I felt a distinct and terrifying pop on leaning over, and afterward felt pinching in the vicinity of the tendon, and then last night while settling down and shifting around to get the foot into the least uncomfortable position I felt a sharp cracking sensation followed by pain. OTC ibuprofen took care of it but it was terrifying. I had anxiety dreams about my foot coming off. Even my dreaming brain knew this wasn’t happening, because in the last one, I thought I was awake and desperately holding the foot in place, telling Damon I didn’t think we could wrap it up tight enough to walk on it, even in the boot, to go to the doctor to fix it, and he said it hadn’t come off, I was dreaming; so I said I would test it by giving it a good tug, but I was so scared I closed my eyes to do it and I felt it come off but when I looked I saw it was still attached but I could feel it in my hand. Yeah, I didn’t sleep well, but at least we now know that the opposite of “phantom limb” is “Peni secretly panicking.”

Anyway, the technician took three x-rays of it and the doctor said everything seemed fine. I even walked barefoot, except for a bootie, to the x-ray machine. The panel I stood on felt like it was rocking back and forth but I made it and wow, being able to feel the floor was nice. He said the swelling would go down “eventually,” to wear the boot for about two more weeks with the wedge at the lowest stage, and to schedule the PT and come back in two months. We’ll go buying tennis shoes this weekend - if I can walk barefoot to the x-ray I can try on tennis shoes. Though I really wish the swelling.would just go away. It’s hard enough to buy shoes without that and they’re likely to set us back a couple of hundred dollars. Better to get them too big than too small but if I have to wear them all summer instead of going barefoot I don’t want to be stuck wearing heavy socks. I’ll have to try them on with the compression sock on the bad foot and a regular sock on the good one and hope for the best. Yes I will look silly but I’d rather look silly than wear a compression sock on a foot that doesn’t need it. They’re not exactly comfortable or easy to put on.

The shoe shopping trip will be my first time out of the house not on medical business since the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I wish it was to do something fun; but maybe if I husband my strength we can stop somewhere nice when we finish. If we finish. It hasn’t happened since I discovered SAS, but growing up buying new shoes was a major ordeal that literally sometimes involved visiting every single shoe outlet in town.

#personal #progress report #non sims #shoes #i hate shoes #why did it have to be shoes

[aneysuuchwandiaries]

I just had the scariest night of my life.

Before our AZ-UT trip last weekend, I was already feeling sick with all the change of weather we’ve had in OC lately. I can no longer cancel the trip given that we already booked up all our Airbnb stay and Antelope Canyon tour which was quite expensive, to say the least. 

I was able to manage all my nagging flu symptoms until that one Sunday evening. We arrived in Vegas from Utah at 9 pm and desperate for relief, I turned to my friends for help. One offered flu medication, while another suggested CBD gummies to ease my discomfort and ensure a restful sleep during the journey home.

Optimistically, I ingested both, hoping for a reprieve from my symptoms and a chance to rest. Yet, what followed was far from the tranquility I sought.

It was about an hour passed the time I took the gummy that I felt a creeping numbness spread through my body, a sensation both alien and alarming. Dismissing it as mere paranoia, I tried to focus on the road ahead, but my mind had other plans. Soon, hallucinations danced before my eyes, a series of vivid images and surreal sights.

Cartoon characters from childhood memories grinned at me while rainbows with eyes winked knowingly as if privy to see me. Every object, every shadow seemed to take on a life of its own, morphing into grotesque caricatures of themselves.

The mere fact that we were driving back from Vegas at nighttime and that we still had 4hours ahead of us was enough for me to comprehend. I wanted to believe that it was due to my first time taking CBD gummies and maybe I would feel better in the next couple of minutes. 

Minutes later as I tried to be in denial of what was happening, I could now feel my palpitation. I could feel my heart beating fast, and I started to panic. Given that we were still in the middle of the desert, I started to feel anxious about what was about to happen combined with the sound of the running engine at 80mph and the unappealing music from the radio. I asked my boyfriend to roll down the windows a bit so I could breathe some air. The next thing I knew, I was shaking and I wanted to vomit. I told them to pull over the car at the nearest town, and I’m glad we went to Thermometer; a town before the 90-mile desert stretch. No exits, no towns. Just the vastness of the desert. 

We parked at the grocery store and I started to vomit when I got out of the car. I can feel both my arms and legs shaking not because of the cold given how cold it was in Vegas but because it was like my body’s involuntary response from the palpitation. I asked if they could call 911 and so I can go to the nearest hospital. At this point, I was already panicking that breathing fresh air didn’t help.

My sister’s boyfriend studied the CBD gummy I took and the moment I went in the car again, he said I only took a 15 mg THC gummy with 0% CBD. Meaning, the reason why I was intoxicated and high was that I technically only took THC gummies and the fact that I also took flu medications at the same time. When taking THC,  it was known to give you temporary psychotic episodes which was similar to what I just had to go through. 

I thought I was on drug overdose, but my brain function was typically heightened by the 2 things I took that night. 

We stayed at Thermometer for 2 hours more at 1 am, and I feel like I could not go through the same ordeal of seeing things in my head while in a running vehicle. So many things triggered my panic attack that I could no longer feel my hands and feet. I asked them to pinch me so hard but a little to no effect. Good thing my boyfriend, who is an RN, was there to manually check my pulse using his two fingers. He said my pulse rate was 190 then went down to 120 in 20 minutes. 

After 2 hours of staying there, we decided to move ahead because we no longer felt safe in the area. Bea saw 3 men coming our way, maybe trying to break in at least but realized that there were people inside. It triggered my palpitations again, and I was trying to calm myself down.  

What I realized from this experience of getting high was how my brain works marvelously. 

Back on the road again, I can feel my heart beating fast. But I don’t know how these two things transpired that suddenly I can hear 2 people inside my head. 

The name of the other entity was Eva, and the next was Duffy. 

Whenever my brain gives me a snippet of my adult problems, like working later today, and I couldn’t call off, Eva would address them. I don’t know how she did it, but I know I calmed down each time I addressed the thoughts to Eva. She felt as though she was my adult alter-ego. I talked to her whenever I lifted my head straight. 

Duffy, on the other hand, addressed my childhood nostalgia, and she made me calm way more than Eva did. Talking to her is when I put my head down. This area where Duffy exists usually was where I could feel my heartbeat slow down. Especially when I see more familiar things in my head from the past, like how my school paper looked back in 2nd grade and even forcing myself to play the soundtrack of DN Angel in my head. These two imaginary people in my head were the reason why I survived the 3hour drive from Vegas to California. If they weren’t there, I would have a panic attack again. It was as if my mind was helping me cope with what stressed me out the most. 

I know all these things I mentioned sounded silly and crazy, but it did happen. I never thought I would live this day to tell the tale of me getting high unintentionally. And you know how I don’t even have bad habits like smoking and drinking alcohol but getting high was a new thing for me. It was the first time in my life that I felt like I had a close life-and-death encounter. I felt like dying that night, but Eva and Duffy were like my cruise control - they kept me sane and protected from my toxic thoughts. 

Although it was one of the scariest nights of my entire life, I think the whole ordeal of getting high like m*f* was fascinating, to say the least. 

[escape-from-arcadia]

0: THE FOOL

Meet Cayden Tran (they/them). Cayden is an ordinary human who seems to be cursed with bad luck (spoiler alert: they kind of sort of actually are). They're a self-proclaimed cryptid hunter and conspiracy theorist, and they accidentally stumble into the mysteries of Arcadia.

First full piece I've done for one of my TOA OCs, and the first formal introduction to them. I'm going to try and make more cards from the Major Arcana for my OCs.

More info about Cayden under the cut:

Ever since they were little, Cayden has been surrounded by bad luck and near-death experiences, always managing to barely escape from danger. They explored the woods behind their house all of the time, and always came home covered in dirt and scratches. They’ve seen strange creatures and took up trying to photograph them, getting a few successful shots (various trolls and goblins). Their father, despite being a busy researcher, would always carve time out to camp with Cayden on the weekends and take care of them. Cayden and their dad moved to Arcadia when they were 10 from Washington state after their father picked up a job at the museum.

Cayden didn’t like Arcadia much at first, but when they heard about the strange creatures, it piqued their interest. Now they run a moderately successful blog all about the mysterious sightings. Every night (or as often as a high-schooler can) they go out and explore the forest or streets, looking for the strange and unusual. In their bag, they keep a composition notebook (for notes), a digital camera (for evidence), and a tape recorder (for interviews). They have the passion and researching capabilities of their father and use their skills to find out what’s really going on in Arcadia Oaks.

Cayden is also kind of the ultimate secret keeper, which is ironic given how much they love talking about what they find on Tumblr. Even though they love uncovering mysteries and sharing what they learn, if they find something personal about others or the creatures they meet (yeah, they've tried interviewing gnomes, and goblins before), they won't share it.

This is how they happen to learn that their classmates Aja and Krel are Akiridions, the waiter at one of their favorite cafés in town Hisirdoux Casperan is actually a centuries years old wizard, and James Lake Jr. in the grade below them is the Trollhunter. (It all happens in this order.) Cayden serves as the unofficial guardian of secrets in Arcadia, learning about the lives of the magical and extraterrestrial beings in it, and trying to keep their secrets from coming out.

With their bad luck though, things rarely go well for Cayden. Notebooks go missing and never return. Their camera breaks al of the time. Cayden also always seems to find their way into the ER. They become good friends with Dr. Barbara Lake, who grows increasingly concerned about Cayden as a mom. (I like the idea that part of the reason she gets worried for Jim is because of Cayden - she sees that Cayden clearly gets themself into trouble all of the time, but they always brushes it off as fine. She's seen their medical history. They're not doing great.)

-

Design-wise, I wanted Cayden to feel a bit patched together. Their jeans, which you can't see here) are ripped (not a fashion choice). Their zip-up hoodie has a ton of patches sewn onto it and pins. Cayden has very dark brown-black hair and dark grey eyes. They have a few piercings and wear a (plot-relevant!) piece of obsidian around their neck, something apparently from their mother. They usually like dark reds, blacks, and grays. They are average height at around 5' 5" (165 cm).

Personality: Cayden is stubborn and quiet, but also intuitive and resilient. Cayden isn’t the most out-going person you’ll ever meet. They don’t talk much with many of the other kids in Arcadia. They don’t like having people joining them on adventures in the forest and around Arcadia. Once they get to know people, they actually don't mind having them around; they actually like teaching people about cryptids so long as they keep an open mind. They don't like having people around them because they're scared of bad things happening to them. Even so, Cayden does have a few moments where they think they’re invincible and can dive headfirst recklessly into dangerous situations just because “bad things have happened to me before and I always make it out, why can’t I do it now?” This does begin to spiral out of control.

-

Other bits and bobs:

Cayden is Vietnamese-American and non-binary. They are panromantic asexual.

They bought their own binder before they came out to their dad. He was actually incredibly supportive of them though and is incredibly protective of them.

Cayden speaks Vietnamese conversationally.

Cayden is horrible at math, but is too stubborn to ask for help.

They're in junior year.

Their birthday is November 14. They're 17 years old in Trollhunters Season 2/3Below Season 1.

Cayden has many scars on their body from various accidents. They're incredibly self-conscious about them, which is why you won't catch them dead without at least a long-sleeved shirt and jeans.

Their dysphoria and scars are the reason Cayden doesn't like pool parties.

They've had surgery four times before seventeen for a number of different reasons.

They're highly agile from doing track. They would do field, but Coach Lawrence won't let them anywhere near projectiles in class for the safety of themself and others.

#ananonsart #oc: cayden tran #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia oc #toc oc #original character #toa fanart #you can spy a few flags on their hoodie #they also have a symbol for one of the toa shows on there

[wildechild17]

Varaday - Supporting Quirks + Hobbies

@flufftober Day Four! Not entirely happy about this one, mainly because of how it jumps around a bit, but I decided it’d have to do. 

Day Four: Supporting Silly Quirks and Hobbies

1 - Vasquez

“If you had to choose between Zak Efron or Brad Pitt, who would you choose?”

Listen, Joshua’s running on maybe ten hours of sleep through the whole week, so when he automatically answers, “Brad,” it takes a minute for the actual question to catch up to him. When it does, he whips around from the stove to stare at his husband and niece sitting at the kitchen island, both engrossed with the elder’s phone, “Wait, why are you even asking that?”

“Buzzfeed quiz,” Alena answered without a beat. “We’re trying to determine how old you are.”

“How old I am?” Joshua asked, bewildered, and gave his niece a look, “Did you–”

“No,” Alena grinned, mischievously, “This is all Uncle V.”

“Fifty-three,” Vasquez said. 

“Fifty-three?” 

“Yep.”

“Si.”

“Fifty-three?”

“Well, I already knew you weren’t going to pick Danny Devito or Justin Bieber,” Alena shrugged. 

“And I already knew you were going to say Pitt, I just wanted to hear you say it without questioning why I was asking,” Vasquez smirked. “Since you’re practically dead on your feet right now anyways.”

Joshua pointed at him with the spoon, “Watch it. I’m aware enough now to take you on.”

“Skillet’s smoking, Uncle Josh.”

Joshua whirled around.

“Goddammit."

"Language!"

2 - Vasquez

“Who do you think you’re more like? Selena Gomez or Taylor Swift?”

“Oh, another one of these ridiculous quizzes?” Joshua groaned, but he couldn’t help but smile.

Sat in the passenger seat with the window down and his feet propped up on the sill as they drove down the highway, Vasquez simply craned his head back over the console and flashed Joshua a grin.

“I’m bored, guero. Humor me!”

Joshua sighed, “Give ‘em to me.”

The next few moments passed in quick succession as Vasquez fired off questions and Joshua answered in good humor. 

“Looks like you’re more like T. Swift here, guero. You’re an icon and a role model and so many people look up to you… Well, I can name a few.”

“Uh-huh, and who did you get?”

“... Selena Gomez.”

Joshua cackled. 

3 - Vasquez

“Wanna find out which Taylor Swift Era you’re currently in?”

Vasquez slowly raised an eyebrow, looking up from his book to give Joshua a look, “Oh, so now you’re a fan of those quizzes, are you?”

Joshua smirked and waggled his phone but said nothing. Vasquez sighed, and shut his book, rolling his eyes.

“Hit me.”

“How many close friends do you have?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Six to nine, fair enough. What’d you do if your partner cheated on you? Mm… My guess is a night on the town, rebound, or revenge.”

“Revenge.”

“Damn, noted.”

“Dream job? You work in medical, so I’m assuming, doctor?”

“You’d assume right.”

“If you were an animal, what would you be? Dolphin, bunny, porcupine, turtle, orca, cardinal, butterfly, unicor–”

“Orca.”

“I didn’t even finish!”

 “Orca.”

 “... Orca it is. How would you dress if you had your dream closet?”

 Vasquez gave his husband a look. 

 “Right, who am I asking? You’re vain– elegant it is– Ow! No pinching!”

 “Next, guerito.”

 “Favorite show? Ooh, I know this one, Grey’s Anatomy. Despite all the inaccuracies. Favorite singer– good lord, what’s up with this site’s obsession with Taylor Swift?”

 “You’re literally quizzing me to find out what Swift era I’m in, carino.”

 “... Fair point. So, Taylor Swift, Kacey Musgraves, One Direction, Ariana Grande–”

 “Kacey, don’t even bother listing the others.”

 “Kacey, then. Favorite restaurant or you staying home?”

 “Home, duh.”

 “Damn right. Uh, where can you be found on the weekend– oh, easy. You’re with me,” Joshua grinned and winked at his husband, earning an eye roll but amused smile. “And finally… your favorite color is red, I’d be a fool not to know that.”

Vasquez raised an eyebrow as he waited for Joshua to call out his results.

“Speak Now!” Joshua finally announced, “That’s not what I expected.”

“Hahaha,” Vasquez scoffed. He adjusted positions so he was in Joshua’s personal space, “And what did you get?”

“Red, apparently. I hate how accurate these things are, why do you even do them?”

“They’re fun,” Vasquez smirked. “And a good way to waste time when there’s nothing to do at the hospital.”

“Oh, so when it’s a qui–”

“Don’t say it, Dios! Just because I’m off shift doesn’t mean they won’t call me if things go to hell in a handbasket!”

Joshua laughed and set his phone aside, reaching over to wrap an arm around Vasquez and pull him closer, “You could always just ignore them or tell them you’re busy.”

Vasquez chuckled, lips curving up in a sly smirk, “Si? What would I be busy doing, exactly?”

Joshua grinned salaciously as he leaned down for a kiss, “Oh, I could think of a thing or two…”

1 - Joshua

“... Guero, you’re staring again.”

Joshua quickly averted his eyes from where he’d been fixing one of the doctors across the courtyard with his Level Three Death Stare, “Sorry.”

Vasquez raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, “You just don’t need to be scaring her. Sarah just started last week.”

“Yeah? What’s her story?”

Vasquez gave his husband a look, “Seriously?”

Joshua squirmed under the brunet’s gaze. He offered a sheepish smile, “C’mon, darlin’, you know old habits die hard.”

Vasquez sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “She’s from Washington, went to Stanford medical school, fifty-three years old, moved to Colorado Springs because…” He trailed off, “Actually, I don’t know why. Haven’t asked.”

Joshua turned his gaze back to the poor woman and Vasquez snapped his fingers, bringing Joshua’s gaze back to him, “One minute, guerito. Just one minute. You brought me lunch and I’d rather have your eyes on me than you profiling my coworkers.”

“I said sorry!” Joshua legitimately pouted, and finally turned back to the to-go bag of food he hadn’t even touched yet. Not unlike Vasquez, who’d already started on his sandwich and was going over patient files at the same time, “Like I said– old habits.”

“Unneeded habits, here. This is a hospital, querido, no one besides the patients or visitors are liable to cause any trouble.”

Joshua merely shrugged, “Whatever you say, darlin’, but might I suggest putting your work aside if you really want my attention on you?”

2 - Joshua

“Again, with the profiling?!”

“I can’t just turn it off! It’s what’s kept me alive this long!”

Vasquez let out a mildly hysterical laugh, burying his face in his hands to hide his exasperation. 

This time, it was a charity event being hosted by the hospital, and Vasquez had found his husband seated at the bar sipping on a coke while watching the people around him. 

“But if the hospital’s looking for some actual interested investors, my suggestion is the group on the far side of the dance floor, over by the stage,” Joshua said, apologetically. He took a sip of his coke and watched Vasquez turn towards the aforementioned group of men and women, “I’ve watched that new doctor, Sarah? Talk to them a few times, but she keeps going for a group that looks less interested in providing any funding. I overheard the woman in the red dress saying something about wanting to help with the hospital’s funding when it came to women’s issues– uh, she put it a bit more poetic than that.”

Huh… maybe that profiling habit wasn’t so bad after all. 

“She’s had a gin and tonic for her last two drinks,” Joshua offered, right as the bartender came up behind him with that exact drink. “And she’s almost done with her current one.”

Vasquez picked the drink up and then placed a kiss on Joshua’s neck, “Guero, if this gets us the funding for the maternity ward we need, it’s your choice between a vacation or sexual favors for a week.”

With that, Vasquez ventured off to charm some rich people out of their money.

3 - Joshua

Joshua was at the nurse's station, talking with some of the nurses, when Vasquez finally managed to clock out. He had an easy smile on his face, but the brunet had known his husband for a lifetime and then some, so he very easily spotted the glint in those green eyes that spelled concern.

“Well, ladies, you all have been a joy to hang out with, but I think I see the nurse I want to go home with coming up now,” Joshua cast the women a wink, earning a round of laughter and pouts.

“Vasquez, you truly bagged yourself a catch,” Nicole mused. 

“Si, lo se,” Vasquez smirked as Joshua reached out for him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Now I’m going to let him take me home before Leni decides to put me back on the clock.”

“You’ve worked almost thirty hours, she’ll have to fight me first,” Joshua mumbled. 

“Go on, get,” Another woman, Taylor, waved them off, and Vasquez let himself be led away. Once they were through the ER and in the parking lot, the brunet spoke.

“I don’t like that look in your eye, guero. It’s your ‘Something’s Wrong and I Intend to Solve It’ look.”

“It’s nothing, sweetheart,” Joshua laughed it off, “I was just catching up on the hospital gossip. Damn, darlin’, no wonder you come home as such a chatterbox. Who knew there was so much to hear at the hospital!”

Vasquez slowly raised an eyebrow as they reached the truck; he leaned against the passenger side as Joshua opened the door for him and looked at the redhead. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, despite knowing him as long as he had, but he was fairly certain Joshua was trying to turn suspicion off him.

“What?” Joshua cocked his head, giving Vasquez a mischievous smile. He leaned against the door, fingers curled loosely over the top of the frame.

“You know you drop more terms of endearment when you don’t want me getting involved in something, right?” Vasquez asked.

“Oh, look who’s profiling who now.”

“Not profiling when I know you that well,” Vasquez mused. He let out a sigh and shook his head, “Whatever… Like you said, I’ve worked almost thirty hours and I’m too exhausted to pick up this particular argument again. Can we just go home?”

Joshua leaned forward to catch Vasquez’s mouth in a kiss, surprising the brunet as he melted into it. When they pulled away, Vasquez narrowed his eyes.

“I hate it, when you do that,” the man hissed. “Makes me feel like I can let you get away with anything.”

“Anything, huh?” Joshua smirked, “Well, damn, I guess I should do it more often.” His next kiss, he pressed to Vasquez’s temple, “Later, though. You look like you’re about to drop, darlin’. Let’s get you home.”

The next time Vasquez went into work, the nurse’s station was abuzz with news, one piece in particular that hit Vasquez like a punch to the gut. 

“Sarah was a killer?” He had to repeat it a few times to make sure he hadn’t misheard. He stared at Nicole to make sure he was right; that their new coworker, hired just a month before, had been arrested during his few days off for murder. 

“Yeah, can you believe it?” Nicole huffed, hazel eyes dark with anger, “She was suspected back at her old place of employment in Washington, of killing people- you know, like some sort of angel of death- but there was never any sufficient evidence to take her to court. Oh, and financial fraud and drug smuggling. But they got her here on an anonymous tip.”

Vasquez blinked, then frowned as a thought struck him. 

“Hey, Nicole, you mind covering for me for a few minutes? I need to make a phone call.”

“Yeah, sure thing, hon.”

With that dismissal, Vasquez made his way back to the semi-privacy of the locker room, where he drew his phone out and hit the speed dial. The line rang three times before it connected.

“Hey, darlin’, what’s up? Didn’t you just get on shift–” Joshua started.

“You knew,” it wasn’t a question.

“... You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

“About Sarah. How did you know? You never even spoke to her!”

“What about Sarah?”

“Don’t try and play me for an idiota, carbon,” Vasquez hissed, more annoyed than angry. “Just tell me the truth. Por favor?”

“Alright then,” Joshua cleared his throat, “It started when I brought you lunch back last month. I… I can’t describe it, I wish I could, but there was just… something about her that set my hackles up. And then you said she didn’t really want to talk about why she transferred out here to the middle of nowhere and that just… didn’t sit right with me. Then at the charity ball, she was talking with benefactors who have a, uh, less than stellar rep in the headlines here in the state– ones who are connected to like, pushing drug sales and that stuff. And then when I picked you up the other day, while I waiting, I was talking with the other nurses, and they told me about how meds had gone missing and how a few more patients than normal had been dying in the ER after Sarah had started working there so I just… called Jones and told him to look into her. Wait, has she been arrested or something?"

"Yes," Vasquez answered and ran a hand over his face with a disbelieving laugh. "Just from one glance, you knew she was trouble. How?"

"Like I said… I can't describe it. I just know these things." Joshua said apologetically, "Arrested, huh? Damn, Eddy movies fast."

Vasquez was still laughing.

"Uh, V? You okay?"

"Never stop being you, guerito," Vasquez said. "Mi corazon, te amo."

Joshua was silent for a beat, but when he spoke next there was an audible smile in his voice.

"Love you, too, Ale. Now go do your job and save some lives. I'll see you later."

Two weeks, Vasquez said mentally as he ended the call. Two weeks' worth of sexual favors or vacation. Who knows how much trouble that he just saved the hospital with that habit of his? Dios, do I love him.

#flufftober22 #day four #the magnificent seven #varaday #joshua faraday #vasquez #au modern setting

[megatownac]

Note: The original version of this post got messed up in formatting, so I’m trying it again. Sadly, since it was from my inbox and the original letter got erased when I replied, it just isn’t quite the same. I hope this is good enough.

honestly I think that the screenshots and captions are just as great as fanart, but I can see why you feel that way. I feel like the fandom is less and less involved in the tags/community and all I see on my dash now are the same 4-5 posts thrown around in the higher circle of popular ac blogs.

sorry for ranting like that. bottom line is I do enjoy your content, screenshots are great and your humor is refreshing 💖

All I do is rant, so when I see someone apologize for ranting after only a single paragraph, it really helps clear up the mystery of why my blog never made it into that higher circle of popular ac blogs.

It's long been this blog's policy not to reblog from other blogs, which I'm sure has also hurt me a lot over the years. I've wondered a lot sometimes about how big this could have gotten if I'd managed it differently.

But, of course, it's also been so long that I don't really know anybody else who runs an AC blog anymore. Obviously, people still do it. @mimushima-acnh​ is one I found a while ago that I follow and really enjoy, for example, and is an extremely pure and good blog that does the same kind of thing I do with less cynicism and meanness. And if you're not following @animalcrossingbirthdayboard​, then, well, you certainly should.

Truthfully, I thought at first that @animalcrossingbirthdayboard​ might be @toysleaf​ returned to tumblr at first, as a blog run by a trans man who roleplays Digby, but it isn't. At least, I'm pretty sure it isn't. I didn't ask. I wonder a lot what happened to @toysleaf​. I miss that guy a lot. I hope he's doing well.

I followed @animalclawsing​ for a while before I made my post about visiting their dream town, and they reblogged it, and never posted again after that. I feel terrible about that fact. Like it was my post that killed their blog, or something. I certainly hope it wasn't. The joy they showed when posting about their town was so wonderful that I just wanted to be a part of it, but when I look back at my post it feels harsh and mean in ways that I never intended for it to be. If you see this post, @animalclawsing​, I'm sorry, and I thought your town was great, and I hope you're still doing creative things out there somewhere.

I just keep running this blog because of sheer momentum, I think. I'm still in touch with a few people from the early days who've moved on from AC. I have, too, but I've also stuck with AC even as I've become an old man who's been spending most of his time these days focused on earning IT certifications for his career or working on his novel. I completed a 60,000-word first draft recently, so I feel like I can say I'm working on it without it being the empty words of every other jerk who says they're working on a book and hasn't actually typed a single page of it. If I ever actually finish the darn thing, which will probably take another two years or so (not joking, sadly), I'll be sure to post a link to where you can buy it. I mean, I'm sure I'll just self-publish it on Amazon for less than a dollar, and either have a discount code or post it for free on Mega somewhere for the dozen or so people who read this blog. It's not going to be a big seller, I'm sure of that. Debut novels from old IT dudes aren't.

And that's how you rant, random anon. You start off in one place and you wander off-topic so many times that it's hard to remember where you started. It's a side effect of my ADHD, probably. I don't take my medication for it on weekends, after all, and today is a Sunday!

#non ac #text post #long post #anonymous #answers #replies

[kitterary]

Book Review: You Shouldn’t Have Come Here by Jeneva Rose

Full transparency: I listened to the audiobook version of this book while driving home from a fun Halloween weekend after seeing one of my favorite bands live two nights in a row, and suffering from post-concert blues.   I opened the Libby app (support your local library!) hoping for something spooky to listen to and settled on this as it was the first thriller available.  The book did a great job of keeping me fully entertained for the entire 7 ½ hour drive home… because it was like watching a car wreck you couldn’t look away from.  This being said, I don’t have a physical copy to reference back to in case I make a mistake on something that happens in the book.

The book follows Grace Evans, just your typical bookworm loner gal who selects her solo vacations by throwing a dart at a dartboard and going wherever the dart lands (except all this is a lie, but we’ll get to that) and Calvin Wells, sad tragic backstory country boy running an Airbnb out of his ranch to ease his loneliness (also a lie) and their budding romance while the entire town feels like it’s falling apart around them. The book goes back and forth between these two character viewpoints.

Grace gets to her vacation home and *to no one’s surprise* she has no cell phone signal and no wi-fi access. (Why does she not question how Calvin is running an Airbnb without wi-fi?)  There IS a working landline phone, which Grace never uses until towards the end of the book despite saying that she needed to text her friend to let them know she made it safely.  Grace DOES, however, have enough signal to stream Spotify while taking a run up and down the driveway, which is the point where I realized this was not going to be a good book.

I have so many random complaints about the writing of this book. Grace’s identity is that she loves books, so much so that she just *had* to describe exactly why she chose the books that she wants to read and why she’s reading them in the order she’s reading them, and yet she sat and read her book once for maybe 20 minutes.  But a huge “clue” for Calvin being a liar was that he also apparently liked to read but she never saw him read, as if the man didn’t literally run a farm on his own and spend all of his alone time trying to woo Grace.

This book has too many characters and WAY too much going on for its own good.  There’s jealous childhood friend who can’t get over the one night stand she has with Calvin who straight up tells Grace she hopes she dies, Calvin’s estranged brother who may or may not have purposefully killed Calvin’s ex-girlfriend a year before, an older lady who runs the local clothing shop who acts as Calvin’s mother but also is off her medication, which apparently means she is not to be trusted?  Then there are Calvin’s dead parents who went from just dying in a fire to the mother murdering the father and then setting the house on fire while she was still inside, which was meant to act as a shock to the reader but it had literally nothing to do with what was actually happening in the book. Many of the characters also make passive comments about the house potentially being haunted so you sit and wonder if that’s true (unfortunately not). Random mountain lion attack? Yep. Falling into a pit of animal corpses that also, just like 90% of the events of this book, has no relevance to the plot? Check.  The only side plot that matters in any way was the missing girl who was supposed to be a previous Airbnb guest of Calvin’s.  This alone would have been a plenty interesting plot without everything else but I truly feel like the author didn’t know what direction they wanted to go in, so they included everything.

Then the ending happens.  Turns out, Grace isn’t Grace but is actually using an alias because she’s a serial killer and goes to Airbnb’s to murder their hosts and it just turns out that Calvin also happened to be a serial killer.  I don’t HATE the ending but it felt almost out of nowhere.  Other than one offhand moment Calvin makes about Grace acting like a different person while they were all drinking at a bar, there was no build up to this happening at all, and it just felt like the author couldn’t figure out how to end the book in a way where Not Grace and the missing girl that was being held captive live at the end. I don’t read thrillers, but according to other reviews I’ve read this is apparently a cop-out kind of ending.  I could definitely see that being true.

Final review: I shouldn’t have read this book. 2/5 for simply being so absurd it made a 7 ½ hour drive less boring.

#book review #you shouldn't have come here #bookish

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

I Shouldn't Leave My House

Once upon a last weekend, four island yahoos went to the mainland to spend two days with their mainland yahoo. The five yahoos planned to divert from their usual mainland adventure plan and explore new places, see new things, and make new happy memories.  

One new place was explored before everything went to shit.

It was the final activity planned for day one. We were headed to a board game cafe that we had reserved spots for after going for dinner. Whilst we have a board game cafe on the island, this one had fun snacks, drinks, and seemed worthwhile to try. What we didn’t realize was that it was located right by East Hastings. Now, I assume most cities have their own “tent city”, and that said cities should best be avoided. Well, we knew that too, but we didn’t notice just how close the board game cafe was to the street you should not walk down. Thus became a debacle of parking places. 

It was either a: an open dirt parking lot right next to the tent town, even featuring some folks selling random merchandise, or b. Option b offered a parking garage still near the area, enclosed but without as many eyes. Neither option looked good. Being in the open could deter folk from doing anything sketchy, lest they be spotted. Though, most people in the area were also sketchy folk and may not care regardless. The parkade seemed safer since there were walls and privacy, yet that would make it easier to carry out crimes without being seen. It didn’t feel like a winning choice. Some of us wanted the lot, some wanted the garage. We all kept going back and forth, weighing out pros and cons. Finally, we opted for the parkade. The feeling of dread stayed with me during the entire debate, parking the car, leaving our stuff, and heading to the cafe. I felt like I’d jinx us. By choosing the enclosed parking garage over the exposed lot, I felt that I doomed us into suffering despite our choice feeling safer. I was a ball of nerves, wondering if maybe something would happen just because we decided this was the better option. I am incredibly paranoid about jinxing things. I have a wooden phone case to knock on should I need to. I try to be careful with my optimism to avoid tempting the forces of jinx. I forgot to knock on my phone, but I also felt no optimism around our situation. I also forgot my feelings of doubt, dread, and fear once we settled into our destination. 

We had a reserved window of three hours. We played multiple games, ate snacks, and drank drinks. We played Guess Who with a twist where both teams would ask obscure questions instead of obvious ones. “Would your person have an affair?” “Would they stab their spouse?” “Do they partake in heavy drugs?” Honestly, it spices up the game way more and it’s hilarious to see how each team profiles the characters. It was a good evening, a strong end to a long day. Our spirits were high as we strolled out of the establishment, and we looked forward to loafing at our mainland yahoo’s house. 

To avoid taking up the entire sidewalk like some groups like to do, we walked back to the parkade in a pair and a trio. I was one of the pair and we were walking towards the opposite side of the car from the trio. That was why we only heard the gasp and why we were unsure of its cause. Except, I was only unsure for a second. Then I was in denial. I refused to believe that the thing I was internally shaking about actually happened. It was around eleven thirty at night. It was late, we were tired, and we were just going to go to rest. The day was over, we didn’t need anything big to happen, we didn’t want anything big to happen. When the two of us stood by the others and we saw the broken glass on the ground, the smashed window, I think the first thing I said was, “I jinxed it!” 

At first, we thought all of our bags were stolen. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what was lost. Medication, more medication, toiletries, clothes for tomorrow and for sleeping in, my backpack I bought at a thrift store and would never be able to replace. We were all numb and shocked, our voices only heard as we realized another lost item. After more of a search, we found that only two of the three bags were taken.

For ease, let me quickly create identities for each of us yahoos. We have the punk driver, the good good boy sharing his house with us, the pink one, the disabled part one, and me, the disabled part two. 

My backpack, the disabled one’s overnight duffle bag, and the punk driver’s backpack survived, as did an incredibly expensive camera we brought along. It was the bags of the good good boy and the pink one that were stolen. Probably the two most expensive of the bags. While the rest of us had darker packs, the other two were brighter, even through the tinted windows, one being pink and one being purple. I ended up crying, first, because I thought I lost all my things, then second, because I realized I hadn’t and was one of the lucky ones. 

As calls were made by the punk driver and good good boy, us remaining three stood like zombies. All the yelling we had partook in after the initial discovery of our tragic situation left us quiet and stunned. Not long ago I was ranting and blaming myself and choking up and crying, and now I was…empty. We were there for about an hour. No police came but a lone security guard rolled up and brought us plastic and tape to cover the smashed window. He didn’t need to tell us that we shouldn’t have left anything in the car, yet he did. The good good boy swept the glass out of the car and the punk driver put a blanket over the back seats just in case. As the wee hours crept closer, we five yahoos solemnly drove out of the fated parking garage and made the forty five-ish minute trip to the house we should have already been at. 

We couldn’t even get into the house without a problem because it turned out the disabled one was trapped by her seatbelt. Glass had jammed it in a way that the thing couldn’t unbuckle and she had to weasel out. By the time we got ready for bed, It was nearly two thirty in the morning. We wouldn’t be able to sleep in though since our day two activity was reserved in the late morning hours. We also noticed, after looking at the driving time to the place, that it too was located near East Hastings. The decision this time was to leave all our bags at the house before going. 

I could say our bad luck ended that night, but I’d be lying. Leaving our bags was smart, however it would force us to do a convoluted back and forth trip to pick them up before heading to the ferries. The cat cafe we went to was lovely, though it was hard to fully enjoy what with the losses of the night before haunting us. It also turns out that the good good boy was allergic to cats and he suffered through sneezing and itching and teary eyes the rest of that day. Also everyone was exhausted since nobody was able to get a proper sleep. While we had booked a reservation for the last ferry, assuming we’d want as much of the day to enjoy our trip, all of us just wanted to go home after completing all our planned activities. Of course, we couldn’t move up the reservation due to all the boats being super booked. Instead, we drove to the terminal early and parked there until an available boat came along. Conversation consisted mostly of lamenting the lost goods. The thousand dollar Steamdeck. The newly-bought-worn-once two hundred dollar jumpsuit. The Instax camera with photos of a summer vacation taken recently as well as three rolls of film. The pins from highschool on the purple backpack. We were draped with a sadness that couldn’t really be joked away or laughed off. 

The ferry of course was delayed, so despite managing to get one that should have been two hours earlier, it was really just an hour. At least we were headed home. 

Oh but the bad luck ensues. 

Fast forward to heading to drop off the pink one, we kind of sped through a stale yellow light. The punk driver thought she saw a ghost cop car behind us but no effort was made to stop us after going through the intersection. The car did follow, though. We decided that we were in the clear, they were just behind us because they were going in the same general direction. Until we were two minutes away from the pink one’s house. After joking about being pulled over and how stupid that would be, the car flashed its lights. As we pulled to the side, we realized that the disabled one wasn’t bucked as the seatbelt was still jammed. The middle seat had a working seatbelt, it was currently buckling in a giant bear plush we got at IKEA. I watched as my two friends fought to free the bear, the disabled one madly sliding in to take its place, and the cop approaching shortly after.  The only luck we had on that trip was the cop taking pity on us. After he asked if the punk driver knew she was speeding, to which she replied that she was because she just wanted to get home, he asked about the window. It would have been cruel for him to give her a ticket after learning that her car got broken into and her friend’s shit got stolen. It was our one mercy. The pink friend was safely dropped off, finding out shortly after that the hot water in her house didn’t work and she couldn't take a shower. The rest of us were a bit luckier than that, we could at least try to wash off some of our sorrows. 

I’m going to sound like a conspiracy theorist here for a moment but when I say our group is cursed, I say it with sources. We each blamed our individual cursed selves for the events that happened that night because each of us individuals have dealt with cursed bullshit so many times before. Beyond that, us as a group are incredibly unlucky to a psychotic, supernatural, godly extent. I never used to believe in the “simulation theory” but I think I do now. There is no way we have dealt with as many things as we have naturally, it’s statistically impossible. We aren’t bad people, there is no karmic justice here. Karma doesn’t even exist, it’s a nice mindset but terrible people like the dickheads that stole our shit exist unpunished. We are in the Hunger Games fighting for our lives against tomfoolery, bullshit, stupidity, and no odds in our favor. Gamemakers are controlling these things, they are behind our suffering. It is the only way this makes sense. We are not responsible for our lives because there’s no control for us to begin with. No matter the kindness and empathy, and love, and compassion we have, it will never reward us. I’ve always felt like I was put in this world to suffer and now I know why, that’s what is designed. The Gamemakers like tragedy and they formed our group and all our unfortunate circumstances to fulfill that. It’s all false and real at the same time, but in the end, we are pawns nonetheless. That’s why, even if I never left my house in order to stay safe, my building would burn down. Just like there were no good options around us parking, there are no good options around whether I stay or go. I’ll lose either way. We would have lost either way, no matter where we parked. It’s what the evil overlords would have guaranteed. They were baking that weekend and they made sure to place the cherry on top of the cherry on top of the cherry on top of the shit cake they so maliciously crafted.

#writing #blog #friday post #storytime #biweeklyblog #struggles #angry #cursed #failed weekend

[leiafett]

My Abortion Story

Trigger Warning: this obviously is going to have mention of an abortion but also will talk about a sexual assault.

Some things to mention: I was 19 when this happened, this also takes place in all of 2020. I have ASD and at this point severely mentally ill and having seizures, I’m epileptic as well. Also to note I have a terrible relationship with my mother and though not anymore my dad was conservative and very pro-life. I felt on my own.

—

Denial has to be the strongest emotion. I wasn’t getting my period. I was throwing up every morning for months. But it was just after I took my medication, it had to be because the anti-seizure pills was too big for me to swallow, right? So I had requested a smaller pill. That seemed to stop things. I was still on a new medication. This was May and June of 2020, I had not had sex with my boyfriend since April of 2020.

He lived in my college town. Which was two hours away from my home town. One weekend I slept over at his home he shared with his mom. I forced this night out of my memory. For one simple reason, it still seems fake. He woke me up in the middle of the night. Telling me he had to stop himself from r*ping me in my sleep. He used that phrasing, used that word. Looking back now. I should of called my parents to have them picking me up. I should of broken up with him in that moment. It was also 2 am, I didn’t know why he told me that. I was too stunned to speak. Then he just started crying. Telling me how terrible he was. Which he was, you shouldn’t get brownie points for not r*ping a person. Your girlfriend or not. It was 2 am. I was confused. I just had been woken up. What was I supposed to do? Probably not what I did. I let him have sex with me. Just to get him to stop crying. Frozen in confusion.

Fast forward to September. Back at college. Still hadn’t gotten my period. I swore up and down there was no way I could be pregnant. Just my medication was being funky. Like I said. Denial is one hell of an emotion. Being stuck with my parents for months, no escape. Stress is another thing that can mess up your cycle right? I was having seizures, mental break downs, I was starving myself. My boyfriend begged me to take a pregnancy test when I had came back for school. I agreed to, thinking there was no way I could be, but when the clear blue said it in words. I was pregnant.

It couldn’t be right though, I didn’t feel diffrent. Before this our relationships had hit the rocks. We were breaking up and getting back together. If I was fucked up, he was even worse. He had two ex girlfriends that had already been pregnant, one had a miscarriage and the other went behind his back and had an abortion but told him she also had a miscarriage. He really wanted to be a father, feel like he could finally do right in the world. However I had no interest of being the mother, at least then. I was an emotional wreck.

My morals on children are simple. In no way will I ever make my children feel unwanted. My mom made me feel that way, once telling me she didn’t want a girl, because “she knew how cruel the world was to women” but it still hurt. She once was so upset at me for I’m not even sure what, not living up to her expectations, she told me, “I could get rid of you and make another”. I never wanted my children to feel unloved or unwanted. Now having a child with someone I wasn’t married to, while I was 19, in college. I could love that child to the end of time. Yet in the back of their head they would know. If I gave it up, they would know they weren’t wanted. My ex wanted me to have the baby and just give it to him and his mom. They would know. Also there was no way I could do that.

Denial was a strong emotion. I figured I was only a couple of weeks along. So I had headed to my closest planned parenthood. He didn’t like it. But he would help me get rid of it. Despite his faults, he at least respected my choice. I didn’t put any insurance down. My parents would still get the bill, even if I was over 18. I was terrified of them being upset or disowning me.

If I was only a couple weeks along it would be a pill process. I had helped my friend go through the process after they were sexually assaulted. Seemed easy. Was only a 200 dollar process. When I was in the chair, getting my ultra sound done there was a slight issue. I was 4 months along. They didn’t have a doctor that day. They couldn’t preform the abortion. Shock, fear, and sadness. I was in fight or flight. I was very skinny. I maybe looked bloated but not pregnant. I was a mess. I waited out in a special waiting room where a lovely nurse gave me a box of tissues and papers on what to do next. She circled where the places near me could preform an abortion that late. I told her so many times, “I cannot have this baby”.

You figure this is an expensive process but you don’t realize it until you pay everything out of pocket. 200 dollars for them to tell me they can’t do anything. My boyfriend and I were running out of money. But I had a week before it became illegal. I needed this thing out of me. I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t want a baby. I live in the state of Illinois. When I called a clinic that could get me in they told me of a wonderful resource to help pay for it. I still couldn’t find a way to tell my parents. So I couldn’t bill my insurance.

Really quick, if you or someone you know needs help, please contact:

They were so sweet and they helped me so much, even if you don’t live in Illinois they will still try to help. Back to the story.

I went to Hope’s Clinic. They border Missouri. October 7th was my appointment date. It was a two day procedure, my boyfriend’s mom got us a hotel. She regretted her abortion so it meant I was terrible and shouldn’t get one. But she did it for him. The sooner I had it done the sooner I was out of both their lives. She wanted me gone. Fine with me. She was terrible, a terrible mother, and just a terrible woman.

First day of the procedure I walked in with my boyfriend. There was protesters outside, but with a man at my side they left me alone. I was one of the first appointments of the day. Still pretty late enough where I had lunch, subway. I can no longer eat the fast food chain. I even lost the ability to eat sandwiches sometimes. They had a security person up before you could walk in. She checked our ids then let us in. It was going to be a long day. My boyfriend met up with a friend who lived in St. Louis which was right over a bridge. However I had a long day ahead of me.

I met first with a counselor. It was a routine check, they had one at planned parenthood. Asking me if I was okay with the decision and it was okay if I walked out. Asked if anyone was forcing me. I obviously said no. It was the first person that made me feel totally confident in what I was doing. She gave me a book that talked about what the process looked like afterwards. The guilt or shame, how to deal with it. She made me feel I was making the best decision, which I knew already. It was good to know that someone finally agreed with me.

Then I was back in a chair while they tried the ultra sound again. I made a joke to ease the tension, “well I know it’s mine because it’s being stubborn”, which was true. They had to find it but it kept moving. It was hiding. I had two nurses, and a doctor try to find it. They knew it gender it was. They asked if I wanted to know. Which I said no. A nurse made the mistake of calling it a him. Which I’m not sure if it was actually true. But I don’t know what I want to say.

I got one last ask if this was what I wanted. Without hesitation I answered yes. Then with one shot in my stomach/uterus area inside was dead. I wasn’t done with the appointment though. I couldn’t just simply pass it. They had to take it out if not, it was going to be an issue for me. I had to get dilated so it could be taken out. I wasn’t knocked out or given any pain meds. They clipped little things inside of me, several. Sorry if I’m not descriptive enough. All I remember was putting a brave face on and squeezing the nurse hand. Who told me that I could go as hard as I needed to, which I did. It was so painful. It maybe took 5 minutes but it felt like hours. When it was finally done. I was sent on my way with thick pads and pain meds that I could only take a little every hour.

I was still in college. I told my professors I had a doctors procedure, they didn’t press further they just gave me the homework. They didn’t ask for a note. I wonder if they knew secretly or had a suspicion. While I was sitting in the hotel room with my boyfriend with a very strict no sex policy, which is a if they have to ask they had it happen. I was doing my class work and homework. While cramping worst then ever, like all my periods were coming to attack me at once. They never said it was pretty.

The next morning I was there before anyone else. I thought I would be fine since it was so early that I didn’t ask to be walked in. I was swarmed with protesters. Little did they know they were too late. The clump of cells they claimed to love was dead. They swore they had a nurse with them I could talk to. Not sure why she was here on a Friday morning. Doesn’t she have work? They tried to do things. I felt weird, I was the story they used as a scare tactic. What I did is now illegal in many states after roe v wade was overturned. The clinic I went to would be shut down. Everyone who helped me get better would be in jail.

Now back in the clinic I was on a time crunch. There was a time to everything, had to be perfectly timed. They gave me so many saltine crackers, water, heating packs. I wasn’t allowed to eat beforehand. They stuck two Xanax’s on either side of my gums letting them slowly dissolve as I was aware but I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t tell you what happened besides I couldn’t see anything. I was high as a kite.

Then it was over. They put me back in the special waiting room. They needed to watch me. Make sure I was recovering well. They put the heating pads everywhere I ate so many saltines, drank so much water. I do remember a girl, probably the same age as me, sitting next to me. I hope she recovered well. She looked nervous looking at me. I don’t blame her. I didn’t look good, I did feel good though. Like a weight had been lifted off of me. I was sent on my way after I was all good. I had a 6 hour drive ahead of me and I slept the whole way through.

When we finally got into town. All I wanted was Wendy’s nuggets and a frosty to dip them in. That’s what I got, I ate it when I got back to my dorm room. Fell asleep. At one point a friend of mine came in to just watch over me. The one who had gone through it. They just did their homework and was there if I needed anyone.

My boyfriend and I officially broke up after that. He was kind and took me to go get my first tattoo. That was the last time we had sex, was after that. I never talked to him again and he didn’t want to.

After the procedure, I bleed through my favorite pair of jeans, had to wear a sports bra because I was leaking milk. Which is something I wasn’t expecting. I healed nicely and later I was doing better.

I was still scared to tell my parents but I did tell my doctor. She has seen me through it all and she was like mother figure to me. Telling her was great and like a weight lifted off my shoulder since I was scared to tell any other “adult” in my life. She gave me some solid advice on getting over my ex and told me that he was a jerk and wasn’t worth anything. That I would find better.

I came out as bisexual to my friends. I met an amazing man who has treated me so amazing. I did end up telling my mother. Who held onto me and thanked me for telling her that. I also told my dad. This was a year after it happened. I was finally ready. She understood I needed time.

I wonder now how I would react to having children now. Is the reason that I can’t look at kids for too long because denial is such a strong emotion and I think I’m protecting myself? I guess it’s just proof I’m not ready, I made the best decision.

If anyone you know would benefit from this story please share it.

I’m also down to answer any questions you might have. Stay safe out there and thank you for reading my story.

#pro choice #abortion #roe v wade #late term abortion

[meanwhileinstasiville]

So I had symptoms of heart failure, a couple of years ago, according my end-stage, COPD burdened mother.

My heart had been broken a measly eleven years at that time, coming up on fourteen at the time of this writing. She was, of course, heavily medicated at the time, and trying to find the *exact* combination of gum flavor, breath mint, and a source of block ice, that reprised the “euphoria” she had felt back in the 1980s. When she was being slipped cocaine to “perk her up” via her uncovered soda glasses. She didn’t pay it much mind because nobody ever cared how I felt or what I thought. Living in the “no true scotsman” fallacy as it were. 

Same as he had been slipping my mom cocaine, my dad had suggested a way to go about “blowing off steam” if it happened to suit me. You can kill things that people eat, but only with tags, and only in season. You can kill things that nobody seems to even notice are there; like starlings. What’s a few hundred from thousands here or there? Some people shoot rats at the dump; everyone knows they’re around, some people know there are ten for every one you can see (shoot?), and people see them as often as ever with or without using the place as a shooting range. Same with ground squirrels; people notice squirrels *sometimes* but they certainly don’t count them. Especially not the holes in the ground where they live and breed. 

(My dad was a funny guy, an Axis-II all the way as the modern DSM would call it, and a serial killer type, which I have mentioned before)

Some people don’t ask questions about these things. As this is my multi-generational hometown, I’m prone to taking the sort of long walks that follow all the important grids. The roads new and old, the water grid, the sewer system, city electrical, etc. 

I’ve been followed the length of streets by cars and trucks driving the wrong way in the next town over in previous years, because a drug kingpin happens to call that place home. Cartel presence has to subsume generic street thuggery because it has to be “worthy” we’ll say of one of the wealthier families in the state (and possibly the most powerful these days).

Walking that much, you start to notice where the cars you pass “live”. Who owns a red honda, or a blue ford, or drives any number of service vehicles. So when you meet them in “out of the way” places, as maybe parked in front of a sex shop, you can say with certainty that something is up.

When they’re bilking money out of the IRS writing off the mileage. Services like the Fed Ex industry of said company, UPS, DHL, and even the postal service itself. They didn’t “skip” a mailbox, they’re rerunning a serviced street; each truck has a designation in the form of a number. Cars have license plates. The corporate “double irish” we’re not, among the majority of Oregonians, but *we are* the wild west. Mileage is a write-off. For service vehicles themselves a write-off. All it takes is an LLC. You start to notice, as I said, when vehicles aren’t where they’re supposed to be.

No less than five different vehicles parked outside a cottage-size house that can’t be more than 700sq feet. In total. Sometimes you notice these things. 

You notice that Toyota Land Cruiser FJs, are as often parked on private drives (or tucked away in garages) as they are “khaki” colored. You notice “who had one first” and when that became the template for people like that person. We didn’t have a deluge of honda fit’s driving around until women in the sex trade decided that they were “sporty”. Silver is a “big thing” because Oregon is the “Other Florida” being the marijuana capital of the world to match the cocaine godmother’s Florida. Second place is about as good as anyone gets because people had long paid off their houses with crops protected by tripwires and machineguns. 

(Oregon hasn’t had timber dollars since the 1970s)

They have their weapons, they have their “Alive” style neighborhoods of fire forged friendships from the drug trade. Some of them with more combat training that the average opportunistic weekend drug dealer, form up into “units” of BMXers; body armor and all. Same as a world war gave way to biker gang “patrols”. 

As I said, you notice these things. Cost of fuel *alone* (how much was it for months where *YOU* live?) add up to the down payment on a house, month to month. For all those “out of the way” sorties on write-off mileage. And I’m guessing the IRS just of goes with it, because you’re driving your HVAC truck to the same house (remember writing off the mileage? On the daily?) or thereabouts, several times in the same tax period, and obviously it’s work-related for a job that you know how to do. And have the tools for.

Anyway, a sort of long story short, there’s a giant automotive wholesaler based here, that only cares that payments are made, not by what means. They don’t even bother to look, because that would be bad business practice to snoop where they’d be making a sale. Green industry, you might call it, where money grew on trees called cannabis, that shored up the whole ailing state. And so it went up until the 00s. 

America asks how Donald Trump is even a billionaire when they have the receipts. Ask again how Oregon afforded the dotcom boom. Where your car came from, and your house, and your daily drive through the coffee kiosks so numerous that they come in two or three different brands. You start to notice these things.

A contender for “most coveted grocery store” in town, build a giant staircase to an upstairs office that they didn’t really need. At great expense and questionable permit legality, perfectly connoting Schindler’s factory office (you know, where they were taking pot shots at the workers out the windows?). And yeah, the “owner”, is blond haired and with blue eyes. Some quotes because it’s really the owner’s husband; what remains of a once powerful mob family from Arizona who created a sort of precursor to Walmart in the southwest. You know, to give back. That was a long time ago.

As I said, blond and blue eyed. And *only after* a norwegian began working there and struck up a sort of relationship with the manager’s son. Spending didn’t stop there. Seeing a need for a separate building, and after building the first wasn’t really a “true office”, they bought (paying WAY TOO MUCH, and out the nose) a former maxillofacial surgeon’s office. Sort of “fly by night” contractors (if you could even call them that) worked way over budget on time and billable hours. Some millions went into the thing when all was said and done. Somehow based on the name of the surgeon, and also because a “real German” had made the suggestion (if you know what I mean), and NOT the owner’s longtime friend who was managing the place through the 1980s. Something about Germans and purse strings loosened for the “right kind of people”. 

They say “if you marry for money, expect to work for it” and I think that’s true, even of an ailing mob family from the turn of the last century.

There’s a lead up, to go with the sort of “nazism in the room” from a couple decades ago. First it was the courtesy clerk with a religious Puerto Rican name, who role modelled how to “get into shape” for that crew. Then there was Cristian, whose whole family had relocated from Silicon Valley, separated from a Hewlett-Packard-in-the-family pedigree. To role model the “fruits” of a religious system from a place the crew of that business would never go (did I mention the most powerful family around is *also* blond and blue eyed?). He was quickly given keys to “Schindler’s” office, on a name basis alone. 

Repeat after me, there’s no such thing as intrinsic morality.

A blond haired and blue eyed bad suggestion is not better than an infinite amount of good ones from other people. To the tune of some very questionable business practices that existed more or less *beyond scrutiny*. These are millions of dollars in decisions over many years. After the owner’s husband had a norwegian to talk to.

We have even had, in the decade passing, a sort of firestorm with a mind to burn minority dwellings and businesses, seeming to read the tax lot system as it went, to the exclusion of white interests. (And I’m descended from one of the former controlling interests of the state, and also the seat of the “important” kkk meetings of hate’s distant past). Seems a little fishy to me. Somehow burning away from the “white” town, and through where literally all of the minority population of the region, was concentrated. Almost but not quite through the “darker” part of the larger city more distant this one. Epilogue being, as it so happened, that many couldn’t rebuilt because housing regulations regarding abutments (roads, water ways, city-right-of-way) turned out to be *retroactive*. The family home can’t be rebuilt where it was because of regulations written after it. We don’t mince words with this shit out here in the wild west. 

And these assertions are in records that stand to historical fact. I don’t mean to be journaling in the public square, but all of this needs to be said. As to the business story, you have to ask since it also had a terrible problem with nepotism, “which is worse, remnant bund-nazi thinking, or the aforementioned nepotism that gave way to a “blond” hiring period?”. 

Not an easy question. Turns out that (and look at Trump-Drumpf by Heinz) a nazi pedigree might have become a key that opens every door once again, but here in America and now. (And I thought my own family’s not so savory history was the worst of it, not an easy thing to do because *the other side* of my family was a large part of what sacked the Roman Empire).

Edit: A personal family curiosity, is that we’re (the non-kkk side) always the worst people we know, and able to cite laundry lists of examples, and somehow after centuries upon centuries of horrible things, we somehow meet people worse than we are. On a one on one basis.