#i once treated you as my lifelong confidant FOLLOWED BY i still am is such a fucking i love you holy shit

[nad-zeta]

Match up (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

Hi! Could I get an IkeSen match-up please?? 😭I’m a 5'2.5" female (INFJ), I’ve got hazel eyes, a couple of ear piercings & shoulder length dark brown hair (though I had it deep purple when I could actually get it done before COVID). Career-wise I’m a graphic designer (as I’ve always loved the different arts and creative fields, be it classical art, interior design, fashion, music, dance) and on the non-art side I’ve always loved the social sciences like history, philosophy and psychology/sociology! I’m always learning & evolving my idea of the human condition, human nature, and the psychology of the masses. I also especially love logic games & puzzles and crack them quickly. (Though Math is lifelong enemy #1 no cap sorry Issac). I tend to take a while to properly open up to people and feel quite shy at first, though I’ve amazingly had people tell me I come off as chill and confident (even somewhat intimidating) even if on the inside I didn’t quite feel that way 😅 (useful right?). I definitely tend to observe and analyze people/situations before going in, though even if I’m thrown into something I’m great at thinking on my feet and getting things back under control. Alternatively, when with friends I’m very animated, open, loud, and always throwing out the jokes to raise the energy and have a good time! (Catch me watching & spam sending meme compilations at 3AM even though I know people are already asleep) It just takes me a while to make that transition and connection on that deeper level before I open up (I’m talking months here 😭) I’m a Virgo/Leo cusp with a Sagittarius moon and a Taurus Rising, so I definitely have a strong presence of both earth/fire energy. In professional situations or with people I’m not familiar with the Earth energy comes out, and with close friends or when I’m in my element I love to indulge in the fire. I guess you can say I crave both order and freedom… which feels so divisive LOL. Though I always seem to be drawn to things that are polar opposites in many aspects of life, so that’s nothing new to me. I flip between “the world is great and life is good” and “the world is cruel and we suffer with no purpose” on a daily basis like it’s my job. Though I don’t think life having no purpose is be a bad thing, it means you’re free to execute your own will. I believe good an evil are both within humanity’s callings (and our world certainly reflects it), but personally I’d rather try to add to the good than despair about the bad. A quote that’s always resonated with me and sums that concept up is “What is more noble? To be born good, or to contradict your evil nature through sheer effort and power of will?” Thank you for your time!! I really enjoy your work and am excited to see what you come up with! Though honestly no hard feelings if you aren’t feeling up to it 😁😁((Admin Maru - this acc has 2 admins so I thought I should specify Lol))

Hi hi Dear!❤🌻 thank you so much for the request and sorry for taking soooooo long!❤🌻 Aww u make me blush😳, i’m so happy you have been enjoying these match ups and i hope you have a super good day! ❤😊🌼 Also, i’m always up to write a matchup as long as yall dont mind waiting for my slow writings skills! 😳🐇🦊hehe anyways here is ya matchup Admin Maru! @sengoku-revolution​

So I match you with……….. Mitsuhide

The first thing Mitsuhide noticed about you was your hazel green eyes observing him from the corner of the room. 

You had just been dragged back to the castle and named as the Oda princess. After Nobunaga made the declaration, you were guided to your seat in the council room. You looked at all the unfamiliar faces around you, but one man in particular, caught your eyes. He reminded you of a puzzle that you desperately wanted to solve, with this whispy mysterious air about him. You sat there and stared at him until his gaze lifted and he locked eyes with you. You panic for a second not expecting him to look up, so you shyly averted your eyes with a small smile. 

When the war council was over, it was Mitsunari who first approached you to strike up a conversation. You were rather shy, so you didn’t say much, and soon Masamune was beside Mitsunari asking you all sorts of random questions. You almost laughed at a comment that Masamune had made, “why you so quiet all of a sudden lass, cat got your tongue. What happened to that chilled confident lass from moments ago eyeing everyone in the council room.” That’s when Ieyasu piped up approaching you as well, “chilled and confident,” he scoffed, “more like scary and intimidating, no wonder Hideyoshi thinks she is a spy.” At the mention of his name, Hideyoshi too joined the group eyeing you suspiciously, he, did, not, trust, you. 

Finally, someone came to your aid and rescue, to save you from the overwhelming group of warlords. Mitsuhide reached into the crowd and grabbed your hand, pulling you as he walked away. He smiled his snek like smile at the confused look on his fellow warlords faces as he led you out of the room.

He showed you around the castle while observing you for any signs or proof that you were, in fact, an assassin or spy. But he found none; instead, he found a shy reserved little mouse, who was too shy to even meet his eyes. Finally after a long day of touring around the castle Mitsuhide showed you to your new room. He bid you good night, with a kiss on the hand and left.

The next day you started to help out all the castle staff, you didn’t want to just sit around and do nothing. So you opted to help out the maids, and deliver messages for Nobunaga. Hideyoshi still didn’t trust you, but that all changed one day. 

You were sitting with all the warlords in the banquet hall, people watching and observing the world around you, when something caught your attention. You saw a glint of something coming from the corner of the room. You narrowed your eyes and tried to focus on it to get a better look, when your heart suddenly stopped. It was an arrow that was aimed right for Nobunaga. Thank the lucky stars for your observational skills, as it gave you time to get up and jump right in front of its path right before it could hit Nobunaga. To be fair, it may not have been the best plan, but it was the best one you could come up with thinking on your feet. The arrow embedded itself in your arm and before you could even say anything, the warlords had the attacker surrounded. Hideyoshi was going to scold you for pushing his lord, but when he saw the blood dripping down and arrow embedded in your arm, he realized that you had yet again saved his lord’s life and that you were no enemy.

Surprisingly enough it was Mitsuhide who was at your side in seconds, picking you up and taking you back to your room to patch you up. None of you spoke as he gently treated your wound. Each of you were lost in your own world. He had noticed from watching you, that you were quite a naïve and trusting creature. You hadn’t yet been tainted by the cruel realities of this world. He felt this overwhelming need to want to protect you and get to know you better.After he patched you up, he went over to Nobunaga and asked to become your teacher to help you survive the turbulent times, cause it was clear from the incident that you had 0 self-preservation skills. 

The next day Mitsuhide made his way up to your room to give you, your first lesson, when he spotted you immersed in your art. He stood beside you and watched you design a kimono. It was absolutely stunning, he was awestruck at your talents. Once the sketch was done, you looked up and saw Mitsuhide sitting beside you, in your shock, you fell back. Perfect opportunity for Mitsuhide to take hold of your sketchbook and page through it. He was shook, you were truly a talented little thing. He then turned back to you and offered you a hand up to sit closer so he could start his lesson. And when you saw the books he had brought you unconsciously made a big sigh. Out of all the topics Mitsuhide had set out to teach you about, why was math one of them. He laughed, as you pouted at the thought of having to sit through a maths lecture. 

Despite your hate for math, thankfully, your school taught you well, and you breezed through the lesson. When Mitsuhide came to the stopping point for the day, he made the two of you some tea. He knew there was more to you than that shy exterior, and he was determined to get to know the little mouse within a little bit better. 

Everyday Mitsuhide came by your room, to teach you about various topics and subjects, ranging from economics to self-defence. It had been about a month of these lessons, and with each one, you started getting more and more comfortable around the Kitsune. He was a kind and patient teacher and would explain concepts over and over again until you understood them.

Mitsuhide got a full glimpse of your true personality when he taught you about the human condition, human nature, and the psychology of the masses. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the glimmer of excitement in yours. That day you had actually been the one to teach sneki boy some stuff, as these were topics that you knew a fair amount on. The two of you sat for hours and hours chatting about social sciences, and you loved every moment of it. Mitsuhide enjoyed this new side of you, chatting freely about the things that interested you and honestly your smile was simply just too radiant to look at. 

In the weeks that followed your lesson with Mitsu ended, but his daily visits didn’t. He had successfully made that transition from acquaintance to a friend as the two of you connected on a deeper level. The more you revealed to him, the more he fell in love with you and vice versa. He loved how you were just so expressive and adored your loud, animated side. He could sit for hours and hours just watching and listening to you, tell stories. As you would tell them in the most curious of ways.

He loved it when you would deliver letters to him and then stay for tea. Often these tea dates lasted well into the night, as the two of you flung teasing comments and jokes at each other. Some night the conversation was more deep and serious, but other night the two of you would just be crackheads at 3am, joking and chatting about the most random of topics. Often you would catch yourself mid-laugh and just think about how much you loved this sneki boi. To the world, the two of you were mysterious, reserved, but together your true personalities came out, and you could be yourselves. 

Mitsuhide loved how you just raised the energy in any room you walked into. You managed to brighten even the dullest of situations with your chaotic, playful energy. And Mitsuhide low key loved that he was to only one that got to see it, as you were still a tiny bit shy with the other warlords.

Mitsuhide had long ago fallen in love with you, but the day he knew you were truly the one for him was when you were out in the market shopping. He had spotted you buying some fabric for your latest project, and of course, he couldn’t let an opportunity to tease you go by. As he approached, he overheard you debating with some soldiers. They were badmouthing Mitsuhide, calling him an evil man and saying that he was better off dead. You knew of Mitsuhide’s past, and you knew the mask he showed the world, but you had also seen the true Mitsuhide. The kind kitsune that always tried his hardest to keep his friends and family safe, even if that meant turning himself into a bad guy. You squared your shoulders and repeated a quote that had always resonated with you to the ignorant soldiers, “"Tell me then, what is more noble? To be born good, or to contradict your evil nature through sheer effort and power of will?” That statement left the men speechless. Mitsuhide then came up behind you, scaring the soldier away, they knew better than to trash talk Mitsuhide to his face. Mitsuhide then gently took your hand in his, and took you out for some tea, where he asked you about the quote as it too had resonated with him.

When Mitsuhide found out you loved logic games and puzzles, he knew he had found his soulmate. At this point, sneki boi was head over heels for you, and he was determined to make his feelings known. He decided to confess his feelings using a puzzle box and a logic game for you to play. It was based on a series of puzzles and riddles that you needed to solve. 

It started the moment you walked into Mitsuhide’s manor to drop off some letters. You were greeted by a snow-white fox and a letter attached to its collar. You solved puzzle after puzzle and riddle after riddle. Eventually, you were lead to a flower field just outside of town, thank goodness for Mitsuhide teaching you how to ride, otherwise that would have been a painfully long walk. You rode to the big sakura tree surrounded by flowers that you and Mitsuhide had ridden to on one of your first outrides. 

As you approach the tree, you saw a big gift wrapped up in delicate paper at the base of the tree. You slowly opened it, to reveal a puzzle box. It took you a few minutes, but you finally managed to solve the puzzle to reveal a small bell-flower on the inside and a note, “Look up.” 

You looked up to see another gift hidden between the pink petal of the tree. Again thankful for one of Mitsuhide’s various lessons, you carefully climbed up the tree and opened the present to reveal a kimono. Still, not just any kimono, it was the one that Mitsuhide had watched you sketch that very first day. Your eyes started tearing up at the kind gesture. You lifted the soft fabric up and down fell one final note, “I congratulate you for completing all the puzzles little one.” It was a long letter confessing all Mitsuhide’s undying love for you. It also stated that if you felt the same way, then he would be at the festivals gate waiting for you and if not than…. You didn’t read the last part as you had long ago fallen in love with the Kitsune. You raced back to town where the festival was being held and standing by the entrance of the festival was Mitsuhide, just as promised. You wasted no time running and tackling him into a big hug.

The more Mitsuhide discovered about you, the more he loved you. He loved that you loved the arts as much as he did. 

He loved to pull you into his arms and dance with you for hours and hours. He knew you loved to dance and music, so if you were feeling down, he would play you a song or dance for you. This always seemed to bring a smile to your face especially when he would pull you in and start dancing with you, and if you resisted he would tickle you until that bright, radiant smile that he loves so much is back on your face.

Mitsuhide definitely found it amusing that you would switch between “the world is great, and life is good” to “the world is cruel, and we suffer from no purpose.” Though whichever day you are having, he would be by your side to love and support you. He would make those better days even better, and on the days when you feel the world is cruel, he would wrap you up in his arms and protect you from the harsh world. 

He enjoyed debating with you on the topic of humanity and good and evil. He loved to hear your opinions and thoughts on all of it. He agreed with your resolution about adding more good to the world then despair. 

Often you and Mitsuhide can be found nestled in each other’s arms in deep conversation as he spends hours and hours playing with your hair. You have brought a sense of purpose to this boys life, and that is to execute his will to protect and love you for the rest of his days. 

When the two of you are together, the room is always filled with endless laughs and teasing comments. You better be ready to travel all around with Mitsuhide as now that he has caught you he will never let you go. Trapping you in his arms and showering you with endless amounts of love and adoration for the rest of your lives

Other potential matches……………….. Yoshimoto 

I hope you enjoyed this dear and I hope you have a super good day!🦊❤🌻

#akechi mitsuhide #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #matchups #matches #ikesen matchup #match ups #mitsuhide matchup #submission

[misc-headcanons]

Can I have a scenario for Law saving a girl who is wanted dead from the marine/world government. Law fallen in love with her at first site. Her injuries are really bad that Law and his crew are surprised she's even alive. She acts like Law, but she slowly starts to show some emotions towards Law. Law wants to earn her trust and to know more about her and how she got all of those scars. Law makes a move on her but she backs away (unsure) but she moves towards Law. Rough Dirty NSFW please.

(I decided to split this up into two parts, one containing the setup and the second part featuring the actual NSFW. So no smut in this one, but it’s coming! ;3)

Word count: 1354

Law had confidence in his abilities as a doctor, but when Bepo had pulled this woman from the water...he knew the chances of her surviving her injuries were slim. When the crew had stumbled across the ruins of her ship, she had been pinned to a large piece of floating wreckage by an iron beam that had pierced through her arm. The Heart Pirates had immediately rushed her to the operating room, and Law got to work trying to assess and tend to her injuries. Alright: remove the pole from her bicep and keep her from bleeding out, then remove the shrapnel in her left leg and right thigh, then focus on the large burn on the back of her left thigh...

It had taken six straight hours of work to get her into a stable condition. Shachi and Penguin had insisted they work in shifts so that their captain to rest, but Law had refused. When she was breathing steadily and he knew he'd done all he could, he tossed his gloves into a medical wastebin, washed the blood off of his hands, and collapsed into a nearby chair next to her cot. Bepo went to the kitchen to give him a bottle of water, and Law kept an eye on his sleeping patient. 

Her chest rose and fell, and her lips were slightly parted as she slept. Her hair was fanned out behind her, and every once in a while, she would quietly mumble something in her sleep. Law was used to seeing patients at their worst, but she didn't look that terrible despite everything she'd been through. Some of her features were rather unusual though: her fingernails were long and unnaturally pointed, and when she'd she'd first spoken in her sleep, Law had noticed that her canines were sharper than the average human. When Bepo had turned her over to check for other injuries, her back had been covered in multiple scars that looked years old. Law found himself staring at the bruises and cuts that littered her body, and the bits of dried blood under her fingernails.  She frowned in her sleep, and something about the way her lips pursed together made Law's breath hitch. She looked surprisingly graceful--a word he'd never associate with the people he'd treated on the Polar Tang. Hell, she almost looked...beautiful.

Law clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away from her. Where the hell did that come from? He always had a level of detachment when he was operating on someone. He'd never in a million years think about someone he'd treated...well, like that. Hell, he didn't even know this woman!

His eyes slowly drifted back to her. Something about her left him feeling almost lightheaded and airy when he looked at her. He sighed and rubbed the bags under his eyes before letting out an exhausted yawn--maybe these feelings were caused by sleep deprivation. Yeah, that was probably it. Law wasn't the kind of man to believe in love at first sight, after all. He leaned back in his chair and let himself fall asleep. When he woke up, he would feel normal again and he could check on her progress after a few hours of rest.

He entered a dreamless sleep and when his eyes opened again, he saw a few rays of sunlight peeking through a window in the hallway outside the operating room. He blinked sleepily and turned his head to check on the mysterious woman. She was still sleeping, and she was still beautiful. Law's gaze was soft, and he got up to set up an IV to give her nutrients in case she wouldn't be able to eat.

The sound of his feet shuffling on the metal floor caused her to stir, and her eyes slowly opened. Law froze and saw her look up at him, her eyes glazed over with exhaustion and confusion. She shifted up to sit in her cot, wincing as she moved her injured limbs. "Where...Where am I?" Her voice was groggy, and the raspy tinge to it sent a shiver up Law's spine.

"My ship," he replied, his voice gentler than usual. "We found you pinned to some wreckage and treated your injuries. It'll take a while to fully recover, but you're safe, for the time being." 

The women's eyes narrowed. "And what," she said suspiciously, "You rescued me because I was a damsel in distress?" She smiled mirthlessly. "Good samaritans don't make very successful pirates, you know." 

Whoever this woman was, she definitely wasn't naive. Not that he minded, he appreciated people who had a healthy level of cynicism. "Do you think I would've made it this far into the New World if I was a bleeding heart? I could've let you bleed out and become food for the Sea Kings, but I thought I could get some information about who attacked you." His gaze hardened a bit. "There are plenty of pirate crews in these waters that I don't know about. Any bit of insight I get can give me an edge."

The woman shrugged and winced at how her shoulders ached. "Well, it wasn't any crew that attacked me," she replied. "It was a Marine ship." She scowled and curled her lip. "Those government lapdogs have been following me ever since I was a child."

"If they're that desperate to kill you, you must be powerful," Law remarked. "That, or an especially sharp thorn in their side." 

"Both, actually," she replied coolly. "They hate prophecies, especially about 'a witch born with a hunger for the flesh of the Men Draped in White.' " Law raised an eyebrow at her morbid words and she chuckled softly, revealing a small set of fangs. "Don't worry, it's just a figure of speech. I wouldn't ever eat something as filthy as a Marine." She subtly looked up and down Law's body, trying to get a proper look at her rescuer. 

Law felt a bit of heat rush to his face, but he managed to keep his cool. "Since you have such a large target on your back--and you've already come close to dying once--I have a proposition for you." 

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'll give you shelter on my ship, and once you've fully recovered from your injuries, you can repay me by joining the crew."

The woman crossed her arms. "I'm not someone who enjoys being tied down," she said bluntly. "Alliances, friendships...It rarely ends well. Why would I want to spend the rest of my life in the crew of a man I just met?"

Law shrugged. "It doesn't have to be a lifelong pact or anything," he replied. "Think of it as a mercenary contract; in exchange for room, board, and medical attention, you'll fight alongside the crew for a reasonable length of time that we can negotiate on." 

The woman considered his offer for a few moments. She wasn't fond of being stuck on someone's crew, but she had to appreciate his practicality. It was refreshing to be around someone who was as sensible as she was, not easily swayed by pesky emotional impulses. Maybe this wouldn't be totally unbearable…

"Alright," she said finally, giving Law a small nod and holding out one of her bruised arms to shake his hand. "We can go over the details later, preferably after I've gotten some more rest. Is that acceptable, Captain…" She trailed off, expecting him to finally give her his name.

"Law," he replied, clasping her hand and shaking it. Her skin was soft, albeit a bit bruised in some spots. "Trafalgar Law."

"Law," she repeated. "Just out of curiosity, do you have an epithet as well?"

He nodded. "The Surgeon of Death," he said with a low rumble. Her voice already intrigued him, but hearing her say his name was almost intoxicating.

"Ah," she said with a smirk, "We should get along just fine, then." She tilted her head and lightly brushed one of her claw-like nails against Law's wrist as she held his hand. "I'm ____ ____, otherwise known as...the Mistress of Death."

#one piece #one piece scenario #one piece scenarios #law #trafalgar law #female s/o #mine #soul-stealer-reaper

[freerabbitmanandpig]

My Friend With Parkinson’s

On Oct 1st of this year I was given compassionate release from Allenwood USP for (what was diagnosed as) an unspecified connective tissue disorder. I had served roughly 60 months of a 70 month sentence. To secure this extraordinary release my lawyer had sited the new emergency COVID increased risk criteria, pointing to my status of being prescribed immunosuppressants, as well as suffering from lifelong asthma. Being as that I’d been housed in a care-level 3 medical facility, most of my time had been spent around inmates with chronic conditions, many of them without a chance of making it home within the course of their natural lives. Conscious of the fact that many of these men lacked the financial resources available to my family, especially as the pandemic has left many people in the street without regular employment, I made promises to some of these men to attempt to get their stories out into the world.

Christian Tarantino (Reg. # 14684-050) is a middle-aged man that I met while in Allenwood. A gambler with a good sense of humor, who was generous with his friends and, while in the street, lethal to those who stood in his way. According to the FBI, back in the early 90s Chris was part of a crew that committed a number of armed robberies. In 2011 he was sentenced to three consecutive life-terms for the murder of a guard during an armored car robbery back in 1994, as well as the murder of one of the participants whom he feared would flip on him.

Criminals, conscious of their own status, tend to withhold judgement, and I’d be lying if the description of Chris as a “cold killer”, spoken to me with admiration by more than a few inmates, did not inspire this same admiration in me upon hearing the stories of his exploits. To be clear, I never personally heard Chris tell any stories about his case, or murder in general; the stories he did tell me were often funny ones about the club scene in NY, or his dog. The problem was that, when Chris spoke, I often had to strain to hear him. Still, the Parkinson’s had made him patient over the years, and he did not get frustrated when a person had to ask him to repeat himself, sometimes multiple times. No matter how long it took for him to finish the story, it was worth it to hear it all the way through – as I said, he was funny.

Chris and I had started talking more about his disease a month before my release, after having heard that the Marshall Project had published a short story of mine the year before. The problem, he’d told me one morning, was that a 15-minute analysis with the MD did not take in to account the fact that his PD fluctuated in intensity throughout the course of a given day. Even if you’re classified as a care level 3, you generally only get to see the facility’s MD once a year, with all subsequent outside appointments and medication adjustments being managed by your assigned PA. The key to adequate treatment lies then in the temperament of your PA. My PA was considered the best on the compound and was likely instrumental in getting me the workups and appointments I needed to secure my compassionate release. Chris’ PA was largely considered the worst on the compound (one of two), a bitter woman who often had to be compelled into action via administrative remedies, which Chris was inevitably forced to file. If he came to a sick-call and was not actively in the throes of intense contortions (which he sometimes referred to as ‘crazy legs’) then he was often disregarded. Chris and his PA were prone to devolve into shouting matches, nor was this a problem that she had only with him. Even when he wasn’t engaged in fighting the crazy legs, he was mostly still confined to his wheelchair. There were, on occasion, times when he felt in control of his legs enough to walk, albeit while holding on to another inmate’s shoulders. There was no shortage of willing shoulders, as inmates of all races would step up to ferry him, either to the computer room – where they would inevitable have to help him type his emails, or to the shower – where no handicap accommodations existed. This last omission struck many of us as particularly negligent, considering the yard’s care level. Another problem was the speech impediment. I’d often heard him ask, rhetorically, how it was that sounding like “a retard” when he spoke was not a clear enough indicator of the severity of his condition, regardless of the tremors. Of course ‘retard’ is not really the best adjective for any modern condition, but the point was still valid that, when he spoke, he sounded like a person recovering from a massive stroke – only he wasn’t recovering, Parkinson’s is a degenerative illness.

          The prison had no choice but to provide him with follow-ups to the local neurologist after a highly invasive surgery, known as ‘deep brain stimulation’, in which a device, a ‘neurostimulator’, was implanted into his brain. This local doctor told Chris flat-out that he was incapable of treating him at this stage in his illness, nor is the facility capable of recalibrating his implant.

         At night, a small group of us would walk to pill line to get our evening medications. I got Elavil and Gabba Pentin – the former for my interstitial cystitis, and the Gabba Pentin for more generalized pain. Chris, on the other hand, got a bunch of different pills, each with an Old Testament-sized list of potential side effects. To add insult to injury, the medical staff crushed most of his medications, as though this middle-aged man in a plastic, yellow wheelchair, barely able to get the cup of powder into his mouth, would somehow be able – or even willing, to cheek these many pills so that he could smuggle them back to the unit and…. What? For anyone curious enough to look, Federal Penitentiaries are full to the point of bursting with real narcotics. Who the fuck wants to sniff twenty different PD meds?

         During these evening walks (some of our only time outside of the unit since the pandemic started) the subject of my pending motion came up on a regular basis. It was news, if nothing else. As for Chris, PD does not put him at an increased risk for COVID complications, and although I’d heard him, on occasion, tentatively breech the subject of outright compassionate release, his main request to me was that I put his story up, in the hope that perhaps someone else from the outside would get involved and get him moved to a medical facility. At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about falling down in the shower and bearing the indignity of calling for help, alone and naked on a wet floor that’s covered with other men’s piss and body hair. Before I was released, I wrote one final staff request for him to the medical coordinator attempting to get him transferred to a care-level 4 facility. This was not his first attempt to obtain such a transfer, and, for the purposes of the request, Chris provided me with a list of names of staff members who had seen him fall down, or else had helped him get back to his cell after an accident. It was a long list.

         For a man who devoted a large part of his life to fitness, it’s a hard pill to swallow. In my mind I am stuck wondering what three consecutive life sentences (or a thousand for that matter) really means for someone like Chris, who’s own body has become a prison. In a sense I have an idea – back in 2017, my uncle Steven Parr – a successful and well known archivist in San Francisco, was diagnosed first with Parkinson’s, which was later amended to a diagnoses of Lewy-Body syndrome – a disease that bears similarities to PD. His initial suicide attempt was precluded by his manager, Adam, who was on the phone with my mother at the time. His second attempt, however, was successful. To me, though, the most poignant encapsulation of Chris’s attitude was made apparent when I was pushing him to the showers one morning. He’d removed his shirt before getting back in his chair, and I was struck by his apparent muscle tone and total lack of body fat, despite his sedentary lifestyle,

“Damn Chris, you’re in a wheelchair and still in better shape than half these dudes in here.”

“Yea..” he spoke slowly – struggling to force his tongue to conform to the consonants, “..this is the worst thing god could’ve done to me.”

         In a way it was cruel how the progress in my appeal seemed to engender a sense of hope in some of the other care level 3’s working fervently, without the aid of outside capital or competent legal help, to obtain their own releases before the virus made it’s way to the yard. By Oct 1st the USP at the Allenwood Correctional Complex had 7 cases, all of them quarantined in the shu after having arrived on a plane, and then a bus, with who-knows how many others potentially infected. They’d already shut the medium back down as, despite their ‘best’ efforts at screening all arrivals, 15 cases had popped up in general population. As I already stated above, the administration fought me every step of the way – even after the motion had been granted and I was only awaiting the end of my obligatory 2 week quarantine, the staff refused to allow me to call my family, my lawyer, or even probation, so that I could arrange for transport. I didn’t know whether I’d be going straight home or to a program until the last minute. I could see it in their faces every time they brought me legal mail or were forced to set up my screening for the drug program that I’m in now – they didn’t think I deserved it. Like they had only just found out via the granting of my motion that they presided over an unequal system. I got 8 months back – goodtime I’d lost, along with years-worth of visits and phone calls - “privileges” they justified in taking almost exclusively over dirty urines, and for what? Suboxone. At my final workup the MD confided in me that, prior to the pandemic, they’d been told by the region to start preparations for the MAT program (medication assisted treatment) and to apply for the DEA approval to begin prescribing both suboxone and vivitrol. Unfortunately, these proceedings had to be halted to focus their energies on the then emerging public health crisis. Maybe it’s my prejudices, but itt seemed to me that these people took it personally – as though those reclaimed 8 months had come directly off the end of their own lifespans.

#jail #mass incarceration #parkinsonsdisease #social justice #criminal justice

[blood-and-cigars]

what do you think alucard’s relationship was like with Arthur and Abraham

Today in: how fucked up do I want to get on a Saturday morning?

So I’ve talked about this before to some extent: x x x x x x

In two words: Captor bonding.

But to delve into it a bit, I think the initial years with Van Helsing were brutal. Alucard still wakes up in tears at the memory of being captured nearly a century later. That... doesn’t bode well for what happened during captivity.

Following the events of Dracula, Van Helsing has every reason to absolutely despise him. He’s watched Dracula prey on and murder people; by then the casualty count is pretty damn high and he’s definitely seen it play out first hand, in real time with people he knows. So there’s real and visceral hatred there, paired with the fear fueled determination of never letting it happen again. He’d have no reason to view Alucard as a person— just a vampire, just an enemy— and so he’d treat him accordingly.

I am... firmly of the belief that there was torture involved and that “research,” while to a purpose, took a very cruel form. However Van Helsing wasn’t inherently a cruel man, and over the years, once he learned what he needed to know about vampires (and became confident that Alucard wouldn’t eviscerate everyone if left to his own devices for too long) he mellowed down. Frankly I think the relationship was still awful, but of a more latent, insidious sort.

Given enough decades, Alucard was no longer “the enemy” to him but something more akin to the family pet, or even near the later years, a lifelong companion.

As for Alucard’s side, I think there was hate, that turned into resentment, that slowly morphed into a strange obsession. He’s suddenly in a position where all good things and all bad things come from a single person. That is... not healthy.

He put Abraham on a pedestal. Grudging respect for defeating him turned into blind devotion. The belief that there was no greater arbiter of right and wrong. Nothing else mattered, only what Abraham commanded. I think this was where most of that total contentment to serve that we see in canon began.

But yes, they continued comfortably enough for a time, until around when Arthur inherited.

My headcanon is that Abraham still reigned all the way through the tail end of WWI, until he was “asked” to resign by the Round Table, following concerns that perhaps he allowed the vampire too much freedom. There were rumors he was growing old and soft, easy to manipulate. To everyone’s surprise, instead of fighting the rumor, Abraham quietly stepped down.

However when Arthur took the mantle, there were some growing pains, to put it lightly. To his chagrin, he quickly realized that Abraham had no intention of giving up the reins at all. He had simply decided to call the shots from behind closed doors instead, and there wasn’t very much to be done about it. So in return, Arthur decided not to care. He washed his hands of all responsibility and ignored the organization. Abraham was still the leader in all things but name.

During this time, I think he resented Alucard (for, what is Alucard but a symbol of the control of the organization?), while Alucard was largely ambivalent of him.

Things changed drastically though, when Abraham died (much later than you might think, Hellsings are... alarmingly long lived. perhaps it has to do with their dabblings in the occult, perhaps it’s to do with the vampire that serves them) Arthur was allowed to be as much of a tyrant as he wanted, with all the bravado and hardly any of the experience. The death hit Alucard pretty damn hard, though he didn’t really have the time or luxury of grieving. There was too much going on for that.

When he truly took over, Arthur entered the stage with a huge chip on his shoulder. He had everything to prove and wanted to make sure everyone knew just who was in charge, and that absolutely extended to Alucard.

He’d grown up with Alucard around as another adult in his life, even as something of an authority figure. Because Abraham, as an aging man with young children and as the newly minted leader of a flefgling government organization, I think wouldn’t be above foisting some responsibilities onto his vampire servant. If nothing else, tasks like making the children stop running in the damn house when there are guests over would occasionally fall to Alucard.

And then of course, there were the years when technically he served Arthur, and yet continuously ignored him in favor of following Abraham’s instructions.

So with his father out of the way, Arthur was intent on asserting his complete control over his servant. And while I said I don’t think Abraham was an inherently cruel man, Arthur on the other hand absolutely was. This manifested in many ways, physical torture being the obvious one. I think Arthur was also the one to instill the overt displays of submission into Alucard, like the kneeling at his feet and calling him “Master”

(Also I’ve talked about this before, but I think Alucard’s Girlycard form was equal parts“fuck you, does it take me being in the form of a young girl for you not to be intimidated?” and half Arthur’s creepy, creepy tastes.)

However, surprisingly enough, when not lording his power over him, I think he and Alucard actually got on extremely well. With no Abraham to temper Arthur’s choices, they fed each other’s recklessness and bloodthirstiness. Their relationship was a very strange combination of chaotic friendship and extreme cruelty and constant power plays.

Things did calm down somewhat around WWII because Alucard was hardly ever at the Hellsing manor itself. However the relationship became just as toxic as soon as the war ended, and quickly surpassed the initial dysfunctionality. Eventually things came to a head and Arthur had some sort of come to Jesus moment (I don’t have a particular headcanon for what caused it though, could be any number of things, either way it was something bad enough that it finally made him balk and reconsider his choices) which resulted in him cleaning up his act and locking Alucard away with the intention of leaving him there indefinitely. He blamed Alucard for his own excess. In forgetting the vampire existed, Arthur attempted to simply... forget his own sins.

So yeah, what were their relationships like? “Fucked up” pretty much sums it up.

(Of course this is all conjecture and my own headcanons, we have next to no canon precedent for what actually went down.)

#Im so sorry guys I cant use readmore on mobile T__T #hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing the dawn #alucard #arthur hellsing #arthur #abraham van helsing #dracula #i ramble sometimes #*writer's cap* #all the bendy punctuations #a mysterious stranger has appeared #long post #LONG FUCKING POST #meta #headcanons

[seekingthestars]

sarah watches the untamed: liveblogging adventures, part fourteen episode 25 + 26

(aka: there are so many feelings)

look where is wen ning, when will this wen ning drought be over, my crops are dying, it was a crap day and i need the specific healing energy that only a baby angel has

anyway, episode 25!

where at least we’re getting more of sexy older brother GOOD i love him (and also his hair piece, xichen out here being majestic always). also meng yao’s lil hat makes me laugh sometimes, why is he the only one who has a hat!

the sleeve swish is in lotus pier (which is SO PRETTY i’m just gonna keep saying that bc it IS)

his sudden “that’s great!!!” was so outside of his normal composed character it caught me off guard lol

WUXIAN “Am I that handsome?” i know you being sassy but yes. you are.

okay this is so funny to me, it looks like there are more soldiers for this night hunt than they had when they were lining up for literal war XDD

ohhhh wangji’s new blue outfit is very pretty 

meng yao: “I’m sure you all already know the rules but I will explain them again.” me: oh thank god bc i sure did not also his dimples are just cute

oh wait shit what the heck

the dimples are less cute when he’s like “lol and if you miss you’re gonna kill one of these prisoners we have lined up in front of the targets lolol” o.o WHY ARE PEOPLE OKAY WITH THIS??? WHAT????

kick ass and takes names, wuxian!!!!!!!!

well that was very sexy, thank you wuxian omg (ღ′◡‵)

wow okay jiang cheng looking like a whole majestic snack in this dark-blue-with-purple-accents-and-cape-with-the-pretty-lotus-hair-piece outfit bless

“I once treated you as my lifelong confidant.” “I still am.” CUE MY TEARS AND BREAKING HEART

“What’s the fun if no one gets hurt?” well THAT’S a jerk thing to say

that one uppity member of the jin clan who’s always hanging around zixuan and being a lil prick is annoying

wuxian when he’s being all protective and angry is hot tbh

“Let’s see if anything will follow your sound.” / “If I don’t know what's called capability, then please show me yours. Astonish me, please.” I LOVE SASSY WUXIAN, STICK IT TO HIM BB

the mom being all like “oh don’t be angry yanli” as if she didn’t just see that asshole from her own clan being a complete jerk and saying all those terrible things about wuxian SHE HAS EVERY RIGHT TO BE ANGRYYYYY

oh my god that guy just said there were more than 5,000 participants in the hunt, WHERE. TELL ME WHERE THERE WERE 5,000, there were like 50 people at opening ceremony, tops

“It’s not his fault you can’t hunt the prey.” FRICK YEAH YOU TELL THEM YANLI I LOVE YOU she is being such a badass

aaaaand wx crying makes my heart crack :(

HOW DARE THE MOM BE LIKE “HE HAS WICKED ENERGY, STAY AWAY FROM HIM” THEY’RE SIBLINGS AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER YOU STAY OUT OF THEIR BUSINESS sorry getting emotional today, don’t hurt my bb

WEN QING???????

WANGJI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! W A N G J I!!!!!!!!!!

episode 26:

the pretty and very good boy (◡‿◡✿)

xichen is so pretty and kind and i love his majestic deer antler headpiece and it just makes me happy when i see him on screen

zixun being all “if they don’t drink then they look down on me!” like shut UP, you’re the one being SUPER obnoxious bc you’re not being respectful of lan clan rule of not drinking!!!! so shut up!!!!! i wanna take wx’s flute and whack you in the head!!

wow he’s just such an ass

6 to 10 hours for a banquet? even as a joke that’s like my worst nightmare pls

WEN NING??????

HE HURT WEN NING I WILL NEVER FORGIVE HIM

oh SHIT wuxian “without the wen clan do you think the jin clan is just supposed to take its place naturally” BOY DID NOT COME TO PLAAAAY, CALL HIM OUT god i love him

poor jiang cheng looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm lol

I LITERALLY HATE ZIXUN OR WHATEVER HIS NAME IS

tbh that entire exchange was just very sexy on wuxian’s part, hello it’s been a long day and my filter is falling apart, he’s a spicy hot man

wen qing ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

oh my god wen ning i’m going to literally cry

this is so horrible omg how could they do this ;;;;;;;

when i said i wanted wen ning back this is not what i meant, i will never forgive them ;;;;; and ;;;; the shot of him holding the pouch from wx, my heart is literally breaking WEN NING ;AAAAAA;

are they seriously going to kill all of the wen clan prisoners i can’t i can’t i can’t tAKE MORE OF THIS

“nObOdY dArEs To KiLl PeOpLe HeRe!” he whimpers after LITERALLY JUST SLAUGHTERING A BUNCH OF PEOPLE, RAGE   

wen NING ;AAAAAAAAAAAAAA;

i have many emotions

on a lighter note, wangji standing there in the rain with his umbrella is some kinda beautiful aesthetics mmmm yes 

also random but the markings on top of his umbrella made me think of the spoopy black smoke around wuxian

also i love them

and feelings

#sarah watches the untamed #sarah watches #these are getting more complicated as i decide to add screenshots of things lol #also it got SADDER #also that pic of fanxing got me all discombobulated right now what is happening #that's unrelated to this liveblog but very related to the state of my brain tbh

[misstincu]

How to be your own person

At 27 years old, most people perceive me as unapologetic, bold, a warrior fighting for what is right, fair, honest and inspirational. Which is kind of accurate [insert modesty here], but it’s important to note that I’m not all these things simultaneously.  Sometimes I’m just too busy overthinking myself to death, having meltdowns and self-sabotaging whilst still being a nice person [yes, I can multitask that way 😂]. To understand where I’m coming from and what “qualifies” me to tell you how to be your own person, here’s a glimpse into the worst parts of myself from ten years ago: 

I worked hard to improve and change, because I was sick and tired of all the unecessary unpleasantness I was allowing myself to live in. I do hope that you’re not imagining that I managed to achieve this by sheer will. On the contrary, it was more a mix of taking chances, trying things outside of my comfort zone and seeking to surround myself with people that see my value, respect me and support me without kissing my ass to obtain something from me 💅. Of course, I derailed from this “master plan” of becoming my own person on a few occasions because my auto pilot was strong - if I wouldn’t pay attention to something for a little while, I was instantly switching back to my old ways because it was easier and more comfortable. Right now I’d say I’ve come pretty far, and I’m proud of what I achieved, but I didn’t do it alone - it’s the result of many people giving me a hand, helping me in times of need or giving me a chance when no one else would.

I think becoming who you are and maintaining it is a lifelong process, and something we always need to pay attention to and work on it, because as I said - it doesn’t take much to revert to your unhealthy old ways. Here’s where I am now:

Most of the above ideals are not a 5 minute job, it takes years to get there and it won’t be easy - but it’s all worth it, I can promise you that. And just because I changed, it doesn’t mean that I don’t still doubt myself at times, or fall back a little into my old ways at times. It just means that I make a conscious effort daily to stay true to myself and not compromise my wellbeing for anyone.

Without further ado, here are my tips on how to be your own person:

Always have your own best interest at heart

If you’re like me, it’s difficult to constantly have your defences up and think of yourself 24/7. So having your own best interest at heart is also aided by building healthy relationships with those around you, choosing a work environment where you can be yourself and not having to walk all over your values often and reducing contact with toxic people that you can’t just remove from your life (such as family or old friends). Seeking what’s best for you is not always easy or obvious, but a way to do this could be reflecting on what you don’t want, that way it will get a little easier to follow what you want for yourself. In order to have your own best interest at heart, you’ll need to dig deep and be honest with yourself. Be selective of the people you surround yourself with, the situations you allow yourself to be part of, the environments where you spend your time. You won’t be able to count on family, friends, significant others and work colleagues to have your best interest at heart because most of them are too busy to chase their own interests. So it’s important for you to do the same.

Voice your opinions

It took me years, years I tell ya, to start voicing my opinions. This is because the environment I grew up in never empowered me to have an opinion in the first place. However, the first step for me was to start voicing my opinions in writing on my first blog back when I was a teenager - that’s where I said the things I didn’t have the courage to say out loud. A few years later, I was forced by University course assignments to start saying what I think. After a while, I managed to start saying what I think at work even if it wasn’t necessarily encouraged to do so. A beneficial factor for me starting to voice my opinion more and become even closer to being the most “my own person” that I’ve ever been - was having a significant other who has my best interest at heart, and empowered me to be my true self. You can find such support in other types of relationships, it doesn’t have to be a significant other. At some point I became tired of my own bullshit - by which means tired of the unsaid things that were imploding inside me and I couldn’t bear it anymore so I started to speak up more - with my family, with my friends, at work, and with friends of friends (I was already voicing my opinions at home, just not so much in public).

The key to voicing your opinions is to just start doing it. Take any little opportunity you get and practice, practice, practice. Lady at the bakery gave you the wrong type of bread? Say it! Your work colleague is a jackass? Say it! Don’t want to go out? Say it! Not being paid enough? Say it! Think of it like this: saying what you think might be uncomfortable for 10 mins, but it passes away. Sucking it up, however, can force you to take a commitment or be in a shitty position that you don’t want for hours, days, years! So 10 minutes of feeling like crap sounds good in hindsight, right?

Set Personal Boundaries

Boundaries are key for maintaining healthy relationships with people and set clear guidelines of how you want, and need, to be treated.

Most people will walk all over you no matter what relationship you have with them - that is, if you let them. It might take you some time to figure out what your boundaries are but rest assured, life experiences will highlight them for you, just pay attention. For example, back in the day I had no clue that when someone’s actions or words made me feel bad about myself and worthless, it actually meant that they crossed my personal boundaries. It won’t always be clear as day that someone is doing this to you, or they might not even realise it, but either way - if as a result you feel like shit it’s time to take action. In a sense, it’s like taking your power and self-worth back from those who are trying to take it away from you.

My personal boundaries, to name a few, resulted from being sick and tired of the following: not respecting me/my work/my time, taking me or my kindness for granted, toxic family ties, ageism, sexism, being unprofessional or unethical.  Now, when you feel like you need to set some boundaries with certain people, here are my top three ways of setting boundaries:

Reduce contact with family/old friends when: trying to reinforce inexistent boundaries might not be met with openness or the mental ability to comprehend what you are trying to communicate.

Cut people out of your life when they’re energy vampires/soul sucking friends/lovers: With a lovely touch of toxicity, these people might have been all lovely at first until you got to know them better and vice versa. Now, you just feel like a brainwashed puppet that allows them to suck the life out of you and walk all over you.

Ghosting (not ideal, but necessary sometimes) - when reducing contact or cutting people out of your life doesn’t work, the last option standing is ghosting them. To me, ghosting is not something aligned with my values and ethics. However, I do think it’s necessary for self preservation at times.

Accept your imperfections

There are many things you can change about yourself if you work hard enough. However, there are also many things you can’t change. A few of my imperfections include: taking things personal, being too nice, too obsessed with being professional and doing the right thing, too sensitive, an overthinker with high levels of anxiety. To you, most of these things might not seem like imperfections, but to me they are because these imperfections get my feelings hurt a lot and make me feel stupid and bad about myself. But the good thing is: once you accept and acknowledge your imperfections, it can get better. Not accepting these things about yourself and fighting your own self is just like lying to yourself. And when you lie to yourself, you’re lying to everyone around you - and let me tell you, people will see right through your bullshit. Are you a whiny bitch? Are you a pushover? A passive aggressive person?  Embrace it! When you get tired of your own bullshit, the motivation to do something will kick in. Of course, it’s not enough to embrace your imperfections, you have to also figure out how to change the outcome of the situation you dragged yourself into because of the way you are. Set boundaries, remove people from your life if they bring out the worst in you or make you feel bad about yourself. Extract yourself from environments and situations that are toxic for you and it will be easier to accept who you are without these distractions.

Bring out your fashion more

I’m a very visual person in the sense that what I see in the mirror influences my mood.  I’m also anxious and don’t exude self confidence 24/7. This is why makeup, the color of my hair, grooming and clothes are a way to express myself and a reminder of who I am (in case I forget, you know). All these serve like armor and war paint before I get out of the house and face the day. No matter how anxious or stressed out I get, on the verge of tears from bottled anger - I know that when I look at myself in a toilet mirror I’ll be reminded that I’m 100% that bitch. There are months when I’m so exhausted and burnt out that I can’t muster the energy to get all glammed up - but I still make sure I have something on me to bring me down to earth. No matter what gender you are, if you are into fashion, hairstyling, make-up or not - there must be something you can wear that makes you feel pretty damn awesome about yourself.  

Get to know yourself better

You don’t get up one morning and discover that you found out everything about yourself. Oh, no! This is a lifelong project. However, there are many ways you can find out the good and the bad things about yourself - introspection, analysing what you are good and bad at, hearing what people who see through your bullshit say, reviews of your work etc. Sure, it’s nice when people compliment you, and it hurts when they criticize you. But I think we are not 100% the way we see ourselves, nor how others see us. When people comment, there is always a little of them projecting their qualities or imperfections on you and subjectivity involved. In my opinion, the truth is somewhere in the middle. As long as you keep yourself grounded and not underestimate yourself or go full on hubris - you’ll get a pretty good sense of who you are at this point of your life.

Love and trust yourself

When I had zero self-confidence, I thought this idea was utter bullshit. Are you saying I am not a worthless piece of crap without talent like my step mother told me I am? Get outta here!

For years I had moments where I thought “that’s it! From this moment on, I love myself, I trust myself, I am confident” and bam! 2 hours later I still wasn’t any of these things. Because it’s not a decision you make on the spot, it’s a chain of actions, of setting boundaries and having experiences that teach you to stand up for yourself that get you to the level of wisdom that enables you to start loving, trusting, respecting and believing in yourself. For years, I let my power in the hands of others. I let others decide if I am worthy of respect, of trust, of being loved, of being trusted. But if you don’t feel or believe these things about yourself, why would others? In my case, I realised that I have to find my worth in other places. Not in the opinion of others, not in my skills and the results of my hard work - but in my own damn self.

After many failures and getting to the point where it affected my mental health and wellbeing, I realised that actually I do know my shit, I do have a lot of potential, I do deserve a good salary.  Actions speak louder than words - and it will take a long time for you to start feeling this way about yourself - so until then, you can just act and present yourself in a manner that shows that you know what you can do, you have an idea of who you are and what you can do. Yes, a little “fake it until you make it” attitude can help you.  Other people’s mean comments will still hurt - but deep inside, you will know the truth. When they go low, you go high. And slowly but surely, you will take your power back.

Learn to say NO

It might sound like it’s easy to say NO, but in reality, it can be a hard thing to do especially if you’re not used to it. Looking back, it’s astonishing to me on how many occasions I would have been better off if I would have been honest and said NO. This skill is detrimental for your survival and wellbeing, because sometimes you’ll have to put your foot down and say NO. Agreeing to every request might be easier in the moment, but you know you’ll hate yourself afterwards for juggling a million things with no time for yourself just because you couldn’t say one damn word - NO! In your head, this could come off as uncaring or selfish because it means letting some people down, causing them to dislike you for it or be criticized. There is however an upside to this: you’ll gain some respect for yourself and set some boundaries.  Just because you made a commitment in the heat of the moment, it doesn’t mean you need to actually follow it through. You can change your mind and graciously remove yourself from the commitment you made - if you also add a little heartfelt honesty in there most people will appreciate it. As I’m a recovering pushover and YES woman, I still don’t master saying NO but I work on it every chance I get. When I’m not caught off guard, I say “I’ll think about it and get back to you”. If however I am taken by surprise, I might agree on the spot and decline later when I realize that I actually don’t want to do something or I can’t because I have no time for it.

Sometimes I still go ahead with things I don’t want to do because I want to help others or get outside my comfort zone - but that is something that I am willing to take responsibility for. No matter why you decide to not say NO, make sure you are at peace with this compromise, for the right reasons.

Understand your values and stand by them

You see, I understand my values and I stand by them as much as possible. But the reality is, there will be times when you’ll need to compromise a little. I mostly experienced this on a professional level. Values are in essence rules of conduct you live by - but there will be situations with some people where you will never win. In your personal life it’s slightly easier because you can cut people out of your life, reduce contact with them or ghost them. But at work you might be forced to collaborate with people that make your life a living hell - passive aggressive, selfish, ego-centered assholes, “cult leaders”, people that do the bare minimum and don’t care how it affects others. So it’s important to stand by who you are whilst still being able to adapt to working with toxic people that won’t give a shit about your values and boundaries - yay! Welcome to adulthood.

Don’t be selfish and ego-centered

Newsflash! Not everything is about you! It’s ok to be selfish and ego-centered when it comes to your self-preservation and wellbeing, as long as you don’t shove this down everyone’s throat. These traits come off in a negative light when you can’t have a proper conversation with someone because they make any topic about themselves and their experiences 24/7. Don’t get me wrong, I too talk about myself with people but it’s one thing to share a story and another to not even listen to what people are saying and constantly wait for a cue to talk about yourself. I think this occurs when you have no life outside school or work - and I’ve been this person, not gonna lie. The funny thing is that I had zero confidence in myself but still came off as a selfish ego-centered bitch based on this behaviour. So try not to be selfish and ego-centered to the point where no one wants to ever talk to you again.

Conclusion

Becoming your own person takes a lot of work, resources and time. However, it’s one of the best investments in yourself that you can ever make. It not only improves your life both on a personal and professional level, but it opens doors to new friendships and new opportunities. Remember: staying true to yourself is a journey, not a destination. Have a great trip! ✨

#mental health #howtoguide #being yourself

[minoukatze]

A Proposal

Oh look! It’s some self-indulgent Vermintide fluff. 

“Come,” Victor took her trembling hand and squeezed it. “Let us get back to the inn. I have not eaten, and I’m guessing you haven’t either. It has been a very long day. Let us celebrate its end.”

Walburga allowed herself to be led from the grotesque scene, relief washing over her. While she felt as if a massive weight were lifted from her shoulders, seeing her lifelong tormentors screaming in agony, their flesh bubbling and blackening atop a mountain of flaming refuse only left Walburga feeling nauseated. Considering what they had unleashed upon the town, there was no question that their fate was well-deserved, but Walburga took no pleasure in their torture. Gilbert and Gretchen burned, but Walburga’s home, livelihood, her every possession…these things were still gone.

The reality of the situation had not quite settled upon her yet. Walburga allowed herself to be distracted by her duties, which were numerous enough to keep her busy the entire day. When everyone was summoned to the edge of town, she could no longer ignore the devastation wrought. Senden demanded blood for its wounds, and every able-bodied citizen was required to bear witness. Walburga certainly couldn’t begrudge them, considering how many had lost kin and home in the onslaught. Walburga would have thought that Victor would have taken particular glee in condemning the Falkenraths, but he seemed just as weary and disgusted as she had been.

The town was empty as Victor led her though, past the remains of the erstwhile burgher’s manor, past the chapterhouse, to the market… Walburga felt the weight of the fug of smoke permeating the air. She refused to incline her head to the right, for if she did not, she could pretend that her bakery still stood. Perhaps Victor sensed her distress, or simply assumed it. He squeezed her hand gently and quickened his pace, and Walburga was grateful for the gesture.

Walburga furtively sneaked a glance at her companion. Victor strode purposefully, chin raised and determined, as if the Chaos gods themselves would part to make way for him. Walburga wondered what it was like to have that kind of confidence and self-assurance, and why on earth he would bother with her at all. Walburga looked up again and he caught her peeking. She averted her eyes quickly.

Walburga wanted to scrutinize him, study every angle and furrow of his striking face, but somehow feared that regarding him for too long would frighten him away. She supposed that after this morning it shouldn’t have been so much of an imposition, but she still felt rather bashful in Victor’s presence. Her world was in total flux, and she was not comfortable placing this man as her anchor, but she could not help but do so. Walburga did not like being in this position. She had always prided herself upon being the one others relied on, the quick patch up, the ready shoulder to cry upon, and, from time to time, the shelter from the cold. She refused to turn to Oswald in her time of need, as the de-facto burgher for the moment, he was swamped with keeping the town held together. Beyond that, he had his own family to see to. Walburga knew that he would look after his mother cheerfully and without question, but she would not be yet another burden upon him. Likewise, she would not turn to any of the others in town, as they had troubles of their own. For the second time, however, Victor showed up just as her strength was about to fail, and she followed him without question. There was something about his demeanor which compelled obedience, and Walburga didn’t have it in her at the moment to protest. If (when) he departed, she would manage with difficulty, but for now, it was easy to follow when he took the lead.

They reached the inn, and Victor asked if she wished to dine with the rest of the townspeople taking advantage of Klaus’ generosity. Normally Walburga would have been happy to chat with them, but after a long day of treating patient after patient, comforting the grieving, and watching the doom of her lifelong tormentors; she didn’t have it in her. She felt like a razor-thin dam holding back an ocean.

“No,” Walburga replied quietly.

Victor nodded. “Would you like me to accompany you?”

“Yes.”

Walburga thought she saw relief briefly wash over his features. They entered, and Victor approached Klaus, requesting that food and drink be sent to her chamber. Her chamber. Walburga hadn’t realized that Victor had reserved the room for her. Of course, he stays at the chapter house, doesn’t he? She knew she should feel guilty for this privilege, that she would be afforded privacy and comfort while half the town languished in the Town Hall, but, again, she was too exhausted to care.

Wulf Andresen spotted Walburga as she entered and rose from his seat, most likely to ask about the graze upon his ankle. Victor shot him a glare, and the man sat right back down again. Walburga stifled a giggle. She wanted to thank Victor, but was unsure how, considering the whole exchange was a matter of seconds. So instead she followed him back to the chamber, where she found her crusty, disgusting overdress gone and three tidy linen underdresses and three sturdy woolen overdresses awaiting her.

“How…” Walburga examined them in wonder. “How…”

“The tailor escaped damage,” Victor explained. “I attempted to purchase these, but he refused any recompense once he found out who would benefit from them. If they do not fit properly, we will purchase others when materials are available.”

Walburga could not speak for the lump rising in her throat. The dresses were lovely things, plain but charming and utilitarian. She’d been meaning to save up for a new overdress for some time, but just hadn’t gotten around to it. There had always been a more important expense. But here they were, not one but three, clean, free from tears and stains, ready for wear. She bit her lip to keep the tears at bay.

A knock at the door called her back, and she opened it to receive a tray of stew, bread and cheese for two from Klaus, just like the previous evening, though Victor produced a bottle of Touch of Morr wine from the desk. Walburga thanked him and set the tray down upon the table. They sat in an awkward quiet, nothing but the sound of their chewing disturbing the silence, Victor pouring the wine into two earthenware cups. Walburga was unused to such fine spirits, usually treating herself to a mug of ale at the end of the day were there any left over from her meat pies. The tang of the wine was sharp and sour, but not unpleasant. She wondered if Victor often indulged in such luxury. Looking at his dagged velvet sleeves, his carved pipe, the gold signet ring gleaming upon his bony finger, Walburga decided that he must have. He was clearly accustomed to better things, a life wildly and richly lived. She suddenly felt very shabby in his presence, still wearing her underdress (now stained after the day’s obligations), her thick and tangled waves tied haphazardly back and out of her face, even the way she scarfed down her meal. Tears inexplicably stinging her eyes, Walburga looked away, forcing herself to slow and sipping a bit more of the wine. The circumstances were making her oversensitive, she decided.

“How fares the townspeople?” Victor asked suddenly, and Walburga nearly jumped.

“Hanging in, mostly,” Walburga managed. “Don’t know if you remember Mr. Fleischer, but he passed this afternoon. Amazed he lasted the night with those injuries, but still…” She trailed off, not knowing where she was going. “But…uh, most seem to be improving rapidly, thank Shallya. Had Karin send a message through the scribe to Carroburg to the Temple requesting aid, so hopefully we’ll get some reinforcements.”

Victor nodded, pouring himself a bit more of the vintage. “Wise decision. The sooner the town’s residents are functional, the better.”

Walburga watched Victor as he slurped his soup. Difficult to believe that just that morning they had been writhing naked together in the morning sunlight. Why was this so stilted?  One would think they’d be a bit more comfortable. Suddenly, the realization hit Walburga with the force of a gale.

Because he would be leaving soon.

Probably already had his mind on the next mission, already miles away from here. Just passing through. It suddenly became hard to breathe. With everything going on, this should have been the least of Walburga’s woes, but…

“I…” Walburga downed her cup in one gulp, trying to control the tremor in her voice. “I suppose you and your friends will be moving on soon.”

“I cannot speak for my companions,” Victor replied. “But it seems I am here to stay. I will be remaining to take over Captain Weber’s position in the Senden chapter house.”

“Truly?” The hand that held the cup shook.

“Indeed,” Victor continued. “Johann had asked me a little while back if I would succeed him. I made the decision during the battle. If I survived, I would ensure that this town would never be left so vulnerable ever again.”

It was the crack that set the dam, which had valiantly held the entire day, finally to collapse. Walburga burst into great heaving sobs; mortified, but unable to stop. Victor looked rather alarmed and frankly hurt by this reaction, disappointment flickering over his features briefly before he cleared his throat and composed himself.

“I did not realize that the prospect of my remaining would upset you so much,” Victor sniffed, pushing back from his chair and rising when Walburga leapt up to block his exit.

She violently shook her head, still unable to speak. She tugged at Victor’s arm to keep him from leaving, and he stared at her, dumbfounded, as she tried to summon words but could only produce gulps and croaks. She found herself beginning to laugh as well at the absurdity of it all, adding a snort to the bizarre repertoire of noises she was producing. Walburga grabbed a napkin and wiped her face vigorously until she was able a regain a bit of composure.

“I-I’m… I’m so sorry. Not upset, not at all…just relieved.” She finally managed, chuckling wetly between gasps. “I think…I am so accustomed to bad news that I wasn’t prepared for good news.”

“So, you believe this is good news?” Victor raised his eyebrow, faintly amused.

“I had assumed that you would be shaking the dust from this backwater town the moment you got the chance.” Walburga began to regain control of her breath. “You always seemed destined for greater things than Senden.”

“That was not an answer to my question.”

Walburga stared at her hands, which were fiddling with the thin fabric of her cambric gown. She began to worry a little fray in the fabric, ripping the threads, splitting a minor tear into a sizeable hole. She heaved a sigh.

“It is a wondrous thing,” Walburga murmured, still scrutinizing the now mauled dress. “I…I could not believe it was a possibility. We need someone to keep the town safe…”

Walburga trailed off, continuing to fidget. She heard Victor set down his hat but did not look up until he raised her chin with his finger. He looked very different without the authority of his headgear. His face was relaxed, and there was a softness to his expression she had never seen before.

“And what about you?” he asked, his eye searching, but for once not piercing. “Do you need me here?”

He needs to hear it. Walburga felt her lips curve into a smile. Here was a man who has stared down daemons, commanded troops, rescued the town…and he craved her approval. She caressed his cheek and the look in his eye went slightly liquid.

“It seems I do.”

Walburga had been isolated for a good portion of her life ever since she’d had Oswald. Not many fellows in Senden were keen to take a girl with a young child to wife, her only options the elderly and the desperate. She’d had one promising sweetheart, Hans Hanson, the butcher; who promised her the sun and the moon for one night together. Her parents made her demand a vase, and Hans had promised it to her when he had traveled to Altdorf for supplies. He returned with a red, sheepish face and a young, frisky wife. Walburga didn’t blame him and, honestly, had been rather relieved in the end. Hans always stank of onions and never washed his hands. She could never abide by that. It wasn’t until she was thirty-four, after her parents had passed (Morr rest their souls), that she finally found the liberty to indulge in a bit of amusement. Her first (and habitual) lover was a shifty but charming spice merchant who claimed Tilean origin. A fraud, truly, but the touch-starved Walburga hadn’t cared. His hair glistened with lampblack and his accent infrequent but, by Shallya, his hands had been clever and his mouth deft. He never tarried long, and Walburga was grateful for it. A little of “Arturo” went a long way. A handful of others followed over the years, usually the odd merchant or traveling performer, people whom she knew would not stay and, better, would not tell. She’d had enough scandal for one lifetime.

Thus, Walburga was not terribly experienced in the matters of love, but she had been surprised to find that Victor was even less so. She had assumed that someone as worldly as him would have had plenty of opportunity, and that the sweet clumsiness of their first time together was borne of exhaustion and urgency. However…Victor was all passion and desperation, but no skill. He mashed his lips against hers, scrabbling at her shoulders, her back, shaking and whimpering. Walburga found that she was enthralled by it. There was something pure about his unskilled and open longing, and she returned his ungainly embrace with equal fervor. She’d seen how deft and graceful he could be. It was just a matter of practice.

“Wait.” Walburga pulled back slightly, her hands upon his shoulders.

She watched the rise and fall of his breast, the flare of his nostrils, the desperation in his face. It was what had enthralled and shocked her earlier that morning, when she lay before him, the way he looked upon her as if she were something precious. She cupped his thin cheeks in her hands.

“Stay still,” she ordered gently, and pressed her lips to his.

Walburga kissed him softly and he obeyed, staying still. She savored his quiet gasps, the tremble in his stubbly jaw. She parted her lips just a little, and Victor, overeager, opened his mouth wide. Walburga drew back once more, placing her thumb upon his chin and gently shutting his mouth.

“Patience, love,” she chastised, smiling.

Victor took a deep breath, a flush rising to his cheeks.

“I am masterful in many arenas,” Victor grumbled, casting his eye to the ground. “I suppose I must admit that I had never seen fit to excel in this one.”

“No shame in that, love,” Walburga replied, lifting his chin. “I’ve no doubt you’re a quick study…”

Victor looked so crestfallen that Walburga decided to give him a little incentive. She slowly lifted her gown over her head, hoping that his inclination would not have turned to regret over the course of the day.

“Does this help?”

A strange grunt rumbled in the back of Victor’s throat. “Most definitely.”

Walburga drew close, again taking his face in her hands and kissing him softly. He responded in kind, this time, controlling his reaction this time and tentatively exploring her mouth with his tongue. The rest of his body was stiff and clenched, as if he were staving off whatever reflex would take over. Walburga pressed herself against him but quickly withdrew, his many belts and bits of armor digging into her flesh.

Victor smiled, unhooking his shoulder guard. “Shall I even the playing field?”

Walburga nodded, grinning. “It’s only fair.”

He shed his many, many layers of leather and steel until he was down to his linens. “All right then.”

“That’s not an even playing field,” Walburga smirked.

“It is for me,” Victor countered, toying with a lock of her hair. “I lack a sumptuous mane with which to obscure myself.”

“If you insist,” Walburga replied, drawing him toward the bed. “You may find those a bit confining, though…”

“Ah…” Victor seemed pleasantly surprised by how things were progressing, and it seemed to give him the wherewithal to doff his remaining apparel. “I defer to your superior judgment.”

 ***

  Months passed, and bakery was finished at last. Their time in the quiet, back chamber in the Inn came to a close. It was bittersweet. Walburga had grown comfortable in that dim little corner of Senden. It was a refuge from the outside world, a sanctuary where she could cast off her stoic façade and Victor could shed his authority and bravado like a weighty coat. They ate and chatted and confided and made love over and over, and when they would don their veneers of confidence and calm every morning, they did so smiling and ready to face the day. The room was cozy and warm and felt like theirs and theirs alone. Having that oasis from the ravages around her kept her sane and functional. Walburga had known from the start that the arrangement was temporary, and her new bakery was everything she had ever dreamed of since she was young, but she had become attached to the room nonetheless.

It was with great relief, then, that Victor had wished to continue their arrangement after moving into her new home.

“I fit,” he observed with surprise that first evening, regarding his feet at the bottom of the bed, plenty of room to spare for his lanky form.

“Indeed you do, very well.” Walburga grinned, and he chuckled in response.

“You had this made for me, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Perhaps I pitied your poor ankles, resting on the frame of the other bed,” Walburga replied. “Perhaps I like the extra space.”

“Either way, it is appreciated.” Victor rolled over to pin Walburga underneath him. “Allow me to demonstrate my gratitude.”

During their time together, Victor’s skills had improved vastly from their first sweet but fumbling encounter, as he had proved to be every bit the quick study she expected he would be. His hands were ten times as deft as Arturo’s had ever been, and his kisses passionate. If Victor tended to lose control in the throes, Walburga certainly didn’t mind, on the contrary. She’d never felt so desired and certainly never expected it in this late stage, when she had considered that aspect of her life passed. She was happy, happy in a way Walburga never thought she could be. There was no cloud hanging over, no need to work around evil bureaucrats, no need to put on a brave face for customers, no need for any façade at all. Not “happy, but” or “happy, for,” simply happy.

Until…

Victor arrived one evening not long after Walburga had moved into the new bakery distracted and rather nervy.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting him down in front of a steaming plate of shepherd’s pie.

“Nothing wrong, really.” Victor took a deep breath. “Quite the opposite. I have been summoned to Altdorf to deliver my report. I am pleased to show them in person how Senden has improved since the attack, and hopefully gain a bit more funding for our chapter house.”

“Oh.” Walburga pecked at her food. “Well, that is exciting.”

“It is indeed,” Victor replied, and the pair ate in silence for the duration.

Walburga knew that she would not see Victor for weeks, but she turned from him that night, his touch only increasing the despair taking hold of her. She chastised herself but could not shake it. Victor had seemed in a similar mood as well, and for the first night since they became involved they retired without their nightly exertions, laying with ample space between the other. Walburga barely slept at all, watching the streetlamp flicker from her window and feeling as if she’d been hollowed out.

She awoke him the next morning with a piping hot buttered slice of olive and rosemary loaf, fermented herring, and pickled radishes as an apology for the awkwardness of the previous night. Victor squeezed her hand as he ate with vigor, then washed down the meal with a sharp, steaming cup of tea. They could hear a steady tap of soft rain on the cobblestones outside. Victor dressed quickly and made his way to the front door, glaring balefully at the gloomy weather outside.

“How…how long will you be gone?” Every word Walburga managed seemed to cost her.

“About three weeks,” Victor replied, buttoning his coat and fastening his shoulder guard. “It is the transit that drains the most time.”

“I wish you safe travels,” Walburga said, handing him his hat as he stood in the threshold. “Sienna’s accompanying you, is she not?”

Victor made an annoyed sort of noise. “She is. Has a mission from Lohner, apparently. The journey will feel thrice as long, undoubtedly.”

“I’m glad you will have backup,” Walburga replied, finally able to crack a smile.

“I suppose it’s for the best. Walburga…” Victor paused, stroking her cheek, seemingly searching for words.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Victor kissed her then, sudden and messy, the kind of kiss he would have given her in their first days together. He drew back, donned his hat, and charged off down the road without another word. Walburga watched his receding form as he walked, leaving nary a backward glance behind him.

Walburga snapped out of her stupor when the clock tolled six bells. Moping was not going to provide sweet rolls for the morning rush. It was time to get to work.

 ***

 “You’re uncharacteristically quiet this morning, Saltzpyre,” Sienna observed about an hour into their journey.

“Mentally organizing my notes,” Victor replied, staring out at the passing trees.

“Hmm…” Sienna replied, tapping the iron pendant in her hands. “From my vantage point, it looks to me that you’re pining.”

“You assume much, Witch,” Victor replied distantly. He knew that she was spoiling for an argument, but he didn’t have it in him to oblige, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of being right.

“Assume? You pride yourself on your observation skills, but I am no slouch myself.” Sienna preened. “One, you have said nothing about my attire, which would normally earn me quite the lecture. Two, I have been humming for the past forty-five minutes, and you haven’t made a peep about that. I don’t think you’ve even noticed at all. Three…”

Victor sighed, exasperated. “Are you sure you are not projecting, Fuegonasus? You make much of my supposed mooning, when you haven’t stopped fidgeting with that pendant since we set off. I know for a fact that it was a gift.” When Sienna colored, sputtering, this rare verbal victory made Victor temporarily forget his doldrums. “That tune you were humming was the song Adelbert often sings when he cleans the tables at the inn. “A Lady of Marienburg,” if I remember correctly. His mother was famous for warbling it through the market and often collected a crowd of admirers. Thirdly, I assume you were going to mention the massive love bite on your neck, which would give you yet another excuse to ponder your paramour. I honestly do not care how it was earned.” Grinning savagely, Victor went in for the kill. “You are so desperate to distract yourself from your own lovesickness that you attempt to goad me into admitting my own.”

“I..I…”

For the first time, Victor could see how Sienna could gain so much satisfaction from annoying him. It was rather enjoyable. Finally, Sienna folded her arms in a huff.

“Shows what you know,” she finally managed. “And you’re losing your edge. The hickey would have gotten me at least an hour’s rant. I’d had a much smaller one back in Carroburg and you wouldn’t stop going on about purity and self-respect.”

“I am in no mood to criticize the work of family,” Victor replied dryly. “We’ve always been an excitable breed, I suppose.”

Sienna’s mouth dropped open. “Was that…was that a joke? Who are you?”

Victor wearily sighed again, watching the scenery once more. He knew he didn’t want to discuss the matter weighing heavily upon him, and he certainly didn’t want to discuss it with Fuegonasus, but she was the only option and the notion had grown so much that it filled him completely and could no longer be contained.

“I…” Victor admitted finally. “I am considering…I believe I am going to buy a vase.”

He half-expected her to make a joke and demur, stating that she wasn’t interested, but instead she continued to goggle at him.

“About damn time!” She laughed finally. “There’s a good pottery district near the College. I’ll steer you in the right direction.”

“I am capable of finding a proper offering on my own!” Victor replied huffily.

“No, you’re not,” Sienna countered. “Leave it up to you and poor ‘Burga ends up with something covered in skulls and hammers.”

“Nothing wrong with a good, honest skull!” Victor replied. “It’s…”

“Oh Volans, stop proving me right!” Sienna insisted. “No, you’re coming with me, and no arguments. I won’t have you bungle this up.”

 ***

 “You’re looking rather spry this morning, Klaus!” Walburga smiled, handing over her sack of pastries for the Inn’s breakfast.

“That’s what a decent night’s sleep will do,” Klaus replied amiably. “Boring, but definitely has its benefits.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Walburga replied, passing him a meat pie. Lad never ate enough. “So you seem to be coping fairly well.”

Klaus shrugged, gratefully taking the pie. “Don’t have much of a choice, I s’pose. It’s strange. When she’s here, it’s like Sonnstill every day, with everything that goes along with it, bright and loud and fun and debauched and completely bloody exhausting. And the next day, you get to rest in a bit and you’re relieved.” Klaus paused and sighed. “For a moment. And then everything’s normal and dull again and you wish it were back. Does that make sense? I’m talking rubbish, aren’t I?”

He didn’t even need to mention her name.

“I understand completely,” Walburga assured him warmly. “Sounds like…”

“Mornin’, lads!” Susanna the miller’s wife plunked her basket down between them. “What’s the good word?”

“Looks like it’s going to be a chilly one,” Walburga replied, handing over a loaf of brown bread.

“So both of yours are off?” Susanna observed, placing coin into Walburga’s hand. “Guess that’s it then. Off to Altdorf he goes. Pretty nice while it lasted, right?”

Walburga bit the inside of her lip. “Mmm…”

“What’s that then?” Klaus asked mildly.

“Oh, just Hans Hansen all over again, isn’t it?” Susanna replied cheerfully. “Maybe you were too young for that one, Klaus. Our men always head to Altdorf and come back with a wife. Right, ‘Burga? Wulf Andresen too. Promises to moon and stars to Lorna, goes to the capital and comes back with a teenager. Always get their heads turned.” She slapped Walburga’s shoulder. “Am I right? That’s why I had to snag my Lars early, keep ‘im here! But you had your fun, right? Bit stringy and grim for my tastes, but I guess dames of our age can’t be picky. So, when are you…”

“Oh, Susanna,” Klaus broke in. “I just remembered. That chamber your husband wanted to reserve will available on the fourteenth, and I’ll be able to get the flowers and wine after all.”

Susanna tilted her head, perplexed. “Come again?”

“The room your husband wanted to reserve. I assumed you knew? Perhaps it was supposed to be an anniversary surprise.” Klaus shook his head, chuckling. “Damn. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“But our anniversary’s in…” Susanna’s face began to turn an interesting shade of purple.

“Right!” Susanna gathered her goods and backed away. “I’ll be seeing you later!”

“Was that necessary?” Walburga asked, smirking.

“Extremely,” Klaus nodded. “Miss ‘Burga, you know she’s just full of rubbish, right? The Captain adores you. Sienna says he’s never been so easy to deal with and gets this dreamy look in his eye when someone mentions you. I’ve seen it too!” Klaus shuddered. “Rather unnerving, truth be told.”

“Thanks, Klaus,” Walburga replied. “And you say that you think you’ve seen the last of Sienna, but I’m fairly certain she’ll be back sooner rather than later.”

“I won’t hold my breath.” Klaus shrugged again, shouldering the sack of pastries. “She’s not one to stick in one place, and you know me, Miss ‘Burga. Can’t pin this lone wolf down.”

“Indeed,” Walburga smiled. You keep telling yourself that, Klaus. “Well, tell Oswald to stop by later on the way back. I’ve made a treat for the kids.”

“Will do.” Klaus waved. “See you later.”

Walburga waited until he was out of sight and rushed back into the kitchen, grabbing her rolling pin and smacking it against the table. It was a foolish thing to do. She could have broken what was a perfectly good kitchen implement and dented her new table, but she’d needed to exercise her frustrations on something.

She hadn’t needed it said. When it was said, that made it real. Walburga knew, of course she did. She’d been so stupid, letting her guard down the way she had. She should have known that it was too good to be true, an important man like him showing interest in a washed-up old trout like her. She should have considered their time together just a bit of fun, the way Klaus did with Sienna. Victor had come to her with fumbling hands and sloppy kisses, and left with a light and deft touch that would make Arturo seem a heavy-handed amateur. She’d been excellent practice.

When would he return? And with whom? Walburga was accustomed to pasting on a smile and masking pain, but she feared that seeing Victor parade around some lovely young thing could be too much for her. Stop it, Walburga ordered herself. She knew she was being petulant and selfish. She reminded herself of everything Victor had done for her. The room at the Inn, her stipend for her bakery, her new wardrobe, and so many little things…he had been exceedingly generous and kind. Victor owed her nothing. Even so, Walburga stood in her kitchen, fists clenched, willing herself to keep her composure.

“Miss ‘Burga!” Karin called as she ambled in, her arms full of apples. “Tarts for today?”

Walburga straightened up and wiped her eyes quickly, grateful for the distraction. “Yes indeed, Karin! Let’s get the cinnamon and nutmeg. The market is going to smell glorious.”

 ***

The shadows of the Great Temple grew long as Victor exited, greatly relieved to be finished. It had taken all of his self-control to keep from ranting about how it had been the Skaven influence which had nearly destroyed Senden, but he kept the account of the attack brief and emphasized the bravery of the Senden Order, and how they could serve as a model for other chapter houses throughout the Empire. The report was well-received, more or less, and Victor was able to leave feeling as if he’d nudged them that much closer to being the well-oiled Skaven-annihilating force the Empire so desperately needed. He strode from the Temple feeling considerably lighter than when he had entered it, with only one more task before he could journey home.

A familiar silhouette leaned against the wall of a Heldenhammer Platz armory. Upon seeing him, Sienna leapt up and scampered over, reminding Victor more of a candy-addled child than a Maven of the Flame.

“It’s done,” she said, fairly bouncing on her heels. “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it before you have! It’s gorgeous, she’s going to love it!”

Victor smiled faintly. “For someone who finds marriage repugnant, you’re showing an incredible amount of enthusiasm.”

“I find marriage repugnant for me,” Sienna explained, hustling Victor along. “I otherwise find the spectacle and the rituals leading up to it fascinating, and I have a certain appreciation for high-end stoneware. Also, the concept of your wedding is so bizarre that I cannot look away. Come on! You need to see it!”

Amused, Victor followed as Sienna charged forward.

“There are some excellent tailors, and I took the liberty of examining some of the gowns on display. I have a few suggestions and have made a list for Walburga to peruse. She’d look nice with lots of flowers, I think…”

“Aren’t you supposedly on mission?” Victor asked wryly.

“Pish.” Sienna waved the question away. “Minor carta issues. I can handle that in a matter of hours. This? This is important.”

They reached a small neighborhood in the shadow of the furnace that was the Bright College. Apprentice pyromancers parted to make way for the Maven, and Victor could feel her beaming even from a few feet ahead of him. A weathered-looking redhead noticed their approach and rose from her wheel to meet them.

“One moment,” the potter said, nodding respectfully to the pair (more so to Sienna rather than Victor).

The potter quickly washed her hands and retrieved the vase. Upon seeing it, the reality of the situation settled upon Victor, the exhilaration, the terror, the joy of it all. The vase was a masterwork, a subtle gradation from deep indigo to a pale lavender, echoing an evening sky. Subtle arcs of gold and silver rimmed the mouth and spangled throughout, and, at the center of the piece, a silver dove entwined with a golden comet.

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Sienna enthused, all but clapping her hands in glee.

Victor nodded, refusing to allow himself to become overwhelmed. “I believe it will do.”

He handed over a sizeable sack of coin and stowed the vase in a large leather sack, saddened to obscure the piece and fully planning to admire it as soon as he was seated in the carriage.

“Well.” Victor straightened up. “If I want to catch the afternoon coach to Carroburg, I’d best be off.”

“Can’t wait another second, can you?” Sienna grinned.

Victor rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Truth be told, I just want the whole matter settled.”

“I can understand that,” Sienna replied warmly. “Long road ahead. I may be passing through Senden en route to Marienburg before long. Lohner hints there may be a job there.”

Several disturbing things occurred to Victor at once. The first was that he realized that he would miss Sienna’s company, and that he enjoyed it to begin with. Even when she was obnoxious and scandalous. Sometimes especially because of it. The second was that, not only did he consider the bright wizard a friend, that she was probably his closest friend. The third was that Sienna’s happiness was extremely important to him, and that he had never seen her as contented as when she was with Adelbert. All of these revelations threatened to make Victor very grumpy, and he refused to ponder them further.

“Well, I know that Walburga and the innkeeper would be grateful,” Victor replied evenly. “Be sure to do so. Farewell, Fuegonasus. Try not to end up in prison.”

“I’ll do my best,” Sienna laughed. “And Victor, don’t worry. Walburga would be mad to turn you down. Granted, she’s mad for being interested in the first place, but still. Good luck and swift journey.”

 ***

 “So,” Klaus began, leaning on Walburga’s stall. “How long has it been?”

Two weeks, five days, and six hours, but who’s counting? Walburga rolled her eyes. “About three weeks, I s’pose.”

“Well,” Klaus continued with a roguish grin. “I happened to notice a certain trap from Carroburg was arriving just as I started my walk here.”

Walburga handed Klaus his usual lunchtime repast of a pork and potato pasty. “Did you now?”

“I did.” Klaus nodded. “Might have a certain Captain on board not so patiently waiting for his luggage.”

Walburga’s stomach squirmed, and she forced herself to keep her breath steady. “I shouldn’t leave the bakery during the lunch rush…”

“Bloody hell, Miss ‘Burga! Karin can manage for a few minutes!” Klaus tugged at her sleeve. “Come on, he’ll be thrilled you came to see him.”

Walburga dithered for a moment, then untied her apron. “Oh, very well. Lead the way.”

They made their way through the town as it bustled in the wintry noonday sun. Klaus strode cheerfully before her, and as they approached the bottom of the hill Walburga could see the carriage waiting not far from the inn. Walburga’s heart leapt into her throat. Victor was lecturing the driver, who was struggling with his trunk. She quickened her steps, opening her mouth to call out a greeting, when the carriage door opened. A pretty young woman peeked out, then began to descend. The girl stumbled, and Victor sprang away from his argument to catch her, steadying her arm and guiding her to her feet. Walburga halted immediately, suddenly feeling the chill in the air.

“Wait, that’s probably not what it looks like,” Klaus assured her. “C’mon, Miss ‘Burga…”

Walburga turned without another word and scampered back to the bakery as fast as her feet would carry her, ignoring Klaus’ protests. She could see a line forming at the bakery, and a very harried Karin hustling to accommodate everyone. Good. Busy meant she didn’t have to think. As long as she was busy, she wouldn’t fall apart.

 ***

 The journey had stretched for ages. The coach had been full for the trip to Carroburg, which irked Victor. He’d wanted to examine his vase a bit and had to content himself with reaching into the leather sack from time to time and running his fingers over its smooth surface, following the subtle ridges and eddies. It wasn’t so much that he feared his traveling companions would covet the expensive item (they looked as if they would piss themselves if he so much as said a word to them), more that he preferred to look upon it alone and ponder its significance.

He had barely been able to sleep. Nerves had never been an issue in previous excursions. He tossed and turned, wondering how Walburga was faring, if she had any inkling of what awaited her when he returned. What if the time apart convinced her that she preferred him gone? That she slept better without his snoring? He’d become accustomed to her warmth beside him. Victor chastised himself. He truly was growing soft.

As soon as the sky lightened Victor was off, having messily devoured a hard roll and downed a flagon of water. After the squashed two-day trip to Carroburg, Victor was looking well forward to having a mail coach to himself. He found the carriage waiting on the outskirts of the city, a pitiful-looking affair with ill-padded seats and sacks of mail piled atop the roof. Not the most luxurious of accommodations but guaranteed to deliver Victor to Senden before the day’s end. A scruffy-looking young man groomed the horses and readied them for the trip.

“Is there any chance we can depart straightaway?” Victor asked, leveling the driver with a withering glare.

The look had then intended effect. “Y-yes, Sir!”

While the driver bustled about, loading Victor’s trunk, Victor settled himself inside with the leather pack on his lap, tipping his hat over his eyes, finally drowsy. The coach sprang to life, and Victor smiled. Finally.

“Wait, wait!”

The coach halted, to Victor’s extreme annoyance. There were scuffling noises outside, and a harried-looking young woman burst into the coach. She started when she saw Victor, then burst into a fit of nervous giggles.

“And here I was worried traveling on my own,” the girl rambled. “Don’ think no one’ll mess with us with you in the coach!”

“Quite,” Victor replied snidely, tipping the hat over his eyes once more.

Her name was Anneke. Victor found this out, and basically every other detail of her life, and the driver’s as well; as she and the lad (Fritz, as it turned out) gabbed incessantly through the window in the coach. The chatter prevented Victor from napping, but he found that it at least sped the journey along. By the time they reached Senden, Fritz and Anneke were practically engaged. It was lucky for Fritz that Anneke was headed to Bruena, and would be accompanying him for the duration. As the carriage rolled to a stop, Victor took a deep breath and burst out of it the moment the wheels creaked to a halt.

“Come now!” Victor exhorted the driver, clutching the vase to his chest. “I have great need of haste!”

“Right, Sir!” Fritz dragged himself away from his conversation and began to unhook the mail bags.

“My trunk, my trunk!” Victor scolded as Fritz fumbled. “Come now, boy!”

“Where’s the…” Anneke opened the carriage and attempted to exit, but her the heel of her shoe caught upon her skirt and she tripped. The girl would have been face-first in a mud puddle were it not for Victor’s reflexes. He caught her just in time, and she thanked him as she found her feet.

“Anneke!” Fritz leapt forward, mailbags forgotten and tumbling into the dirt as he rushed to the girl. “Are you all right?”

Oh, trunk be damned. As Fritz attended to Anneke, Victor charged toward the bakery. It would be the lunch rush, but Victor couldn’t wait another second. Two weeks, six days, and five hours. It had been agony. He passed Adelbert en route and nodded. The innkeeper tried to tell him something, but Victor was in too much of a hurry to listen.

Victor was intoxicated by the aroma of baking bread. He followed it to the lines of townsfolk queued up and saw Walburga and Karin barely keeping up with demand. He strode to her, the crowds of customers parting before him, and Walburga looked up in surprise. The color drained from her face, and her jaw clenched, as if she were steeling herself. Not exactly the reaction he’d been anticipating.

“Walburga.” Victor clutched the sack to him for strength as he approached. “I need to speak with you.”

“Not the best time,” she replied brusquely. “Can this not wait?”

Victor inhaled deeply, straightening up.

“No,” he insisted, glaring at the customers until they scattered. “It truly cannot. It has been three weeks. I need to speak with you.”

Walburga seemed to crumple. She nodded in a defeated sort of way.

“Very well,” she murmured, trudging into the kitchen.

Victor followed her warily, dumbfounded and stung. She’d been distant the night before he’d left, but up until that point they had seemed content. He’d had the impression things were serious. What had happened while he had gone? Had she rethought her situation? She’d had an extra-long bed constructed. Did she just have a predilection for unusually tall men? Victor’s hands started to shake, but he was in too far now. He had to know her answer, for good or for ill.

“You do not seem pleased to see me.” Victor began flatly.

“I am glad that you have returned safe and whole,” Walburga replied in a wobbling voice, staring determinedly out the window.

“And I am glad to see you, even if you don’t seem to share the sentiment.”

“Well,” Walburga replied. “What did you need to discuss?”

“Right.” Victor took a deep breath, clutching the leather sack under his arm. “I have been thinking about the future.”

Walburga nodded absently.

“The future,” she repeated in a distant sort of voice.

“And I do not think things should continue as they are. I have made a decision.”

Walburga turned her eyes to him finally, and Victor realized that she seemed utterly devastated. She twisted her fingers in her apron so tightly that he winced.

She swallowed heavily. “I just want to know. When did you make that decision? Was it in Altdorf, or before?”

“Before,” Victor replied, perplexed.

This was not going at all the way he had hoped. Walburga’s eyes widened, her hands bunched painfully in the fabric.

“Right.” Her voice cracked. “How long before?”

“Quite some time,” Victor admitted. “At Kruber’s wedding, truth be told. I…”

“That far back?” Her voice had taken a hysterical edge. “All this time, you were making plans…”

“Walburga,” Victor interrupted roughly. “I don’t understand. I would have expected you to be happy about this!”

“Happy?!?” Walburga shrieked. “Happy to see you abandon me? Toss me aside? Happy to see you parade around your fresh-faced young wife, give your children free sweets? Put on a brave face for the town yet again, I’m supposed to be happy about…”

“Walburga, what the hell are you talking about?” Victor demanded, flabbergasted. “What young wife? What children?”

“That’s what happens. It’s what always happens. They go away, and return with something better,” Walburga’s voice trembled. She regarded him again, those river-green eyes nearly overflowing. “I saw that girl you were escorting. I’m sure she’ll make you very happy.”

Victor let out a barking laugh. “You mean Anneke the apprentice glass-blower? She’s off to Bruena, and will most likely be hitched to Fritz by the end of the journey.”

“Wait, what?” Walburga tilted her fluffy head rather adorably. “Who’s Fritz?”

“The mail coach driver,” Victor explained quickly, placing the leather sack upon a flour-covered table and crossing the room to her. “Walburga, are you out of your bloody mind? Is this why you are acting so strangely?”

“I suppose I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Walburga replied, her shoulders finally relaxing. “I was happy with you. Too happy. Something had to happen, and when you went to Altdorf…” She sniffed and looked away, shrugging. “It’s a thing that happens here.”

Victor took her chin in his hand. “Sigmar’s teeth, ‘Burga, do you think me so inconstant?”

“I suppose I think you an important man who need not settle for a dowdy baker whose best years are long past.” Walburga gazed at him, dazed. “I was convinced you’d come to end things.”

“You are insane.” Victor stroked her cheek. “I wanted today to be the beginning of something. Of everything. If you would have me.”

Walburga stared up into his face, a smile wavering upon her lips, as if she were afraid to believe it. “Are you sure, Victor?”

“I do not make decisions lightly,” he replied. “You should know that by now.”

“Me? Honestly? Victor, you know I cannot give you children.”

“Why the hell would I want children?” Victor asked incredulously. “Every day I must begin my day in a chapter house filled to the brim with soft, mewling apprentices. I’ve no desire to end my day that way as well.”

Walburga finally fell into his arms, and Victor reveled in her warmth, her pillowy softness, the sweetness of her scent. He clutched her tightly to him, his long fingers winding in her tawny waves.

He reluctantly released her, gesturing to the leather sack. “You should see what’s in there.”

Walburga opened the bag, and slowly withdrew the vase. She said nothing for a very long time, raising the vessel to the light, admiring it from all angles, reverentially gliding her fingertips over the comet and dove etched into it.

“You really did have this made for me…” Walburga murmured.

“No,” Victor replied snidely. “I was going to hand it to the first lady I stumbled across in town. By the way, you haven’t given me an answer. If it’s a no, just hand it back and I’ll toss it to whomever’s lurking outside. Is that fishwife Langemeier out there? I wonder if she’d be interested.”

“Stop!” Walburga guffawed, setting down the vase and rushing over to him. “Yes, of course! By Shallya’s feathery bum, I am so sorry, Victor. I would not be surprised if you wanted to take it back, given my atrocious behavior.”

“You’re quite mad, it’s true.” Victor grinned, squeezing her to him. “But I will have no other. I…”

He was interrupted by an urgent rap at the door. “Miss Burga! Miss Burga!”

Victor released Walburga to answer. “Klaus, what is it?”

“I just wanted to catch you before…” Klaus noticed Victor lingering behind, and the large, expensive vase upon the table. “Oh, thank bloody Taal! So it’s finally happening?”

Walburga beamed. “Despite my ridiculousness, yes. I guess we have a wedding to plan.”

Klaus slumped in relief. “You gave me a worry, Miss Burga. Bloody hell.”

“Oh, since you’re here, Adelbert.” Victor reached into his coat and produced a letter. “I have been tasked as a messenger boy, it seems.”

Klaus’ face lit up as he took the missive. “I…um…I’d, uh better get to the scribe…”

Klaus scampered away, calling his thanks as he departed. Walburga leaned against Victor, eyes closed, looking to him much like a contented cat.

“There’s the next wedding,” Victor said confidently. “By Sigmar, I will be sure of it.”

“Let’s just get ourselves hitched first,” Walburga replied with a smile. “I assume you haven’t eaten yet? Come. Sit. Tell me of your journey.”

Victor peered outside. “Your customers seem to be returning.”

Walburga kissed his forehead, and Victor felt light as air. “They can wait a moment. Let’s catch up.”

#fan fiction #fanfic #i don't know why i wrote this #it's kinda long #victor saltzpyre #sienna fuegonasus

[pacegerld1989]

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God Save My Marriage Joel And Kathy

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[geoffreywalton]

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