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midgardsbest · 3 years

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Imagine: You feel a bit off today and the argument with your boyfriend Loki doesn’t make things better. What happens when a Steve who doesn’t understand British slang and an overprotective father ruin your sweet plan to get him back?

N/A: Hello dearests, enjoy this new Loki x reader imagine and tell me what are your impressions about it. If you wanna. If you don’t then DEATH. TO ALL OF THEM. Jk. Hope y’all got that reference. 🤟

Warnings: BestFriend!Natasha, Thor is lovely as usual, Dad!TonyStark, Boyfriend!Loki, Language, Fluff, Angst and more fluff, a bit of passion, and British reader/use of British slang (pretty easy and self-explanatory)

Words: 1953

Waking up that morning was tremendously hard. You stumbled against any piece of furniture installed inside of your room by your father, Tony Stark. Well, he was your stepfather, technically, but you weren’t particularly fond of the use of that word.

Yawning your way into the kitchen of the compound, you avoided meeting eyes with Steve. He had been more stressed than usual in the last few days, probably given the upcoming mission. He lashed out at you the day before, or at least that's what you thought was happening.

"I think a cuppa would serve you right."

"A what?"

You looked at him as if he were stupid, but you knew it couldn't be that. "A cuppa? It's.. a cup of tea. You don't know that?" Given his expression, either he was a bit dumb or was just done with you for that day. "No. I like coffee. But thank you."

You weren't mad at him, of course. Nonetheless, ignoring him for a bit did sound like a better idea than trying to cheer him up with your British manners, if you could say. He did not look happy about that.

Staring at the emptiness of your black coffee (and almost gagging at the rough taste), you swallowed the smothering ache in your heart. What was it you were yearning for?

You couldn't place in your mind the exact reason behind this suffering, but you soon grew tired of it. With a pair of eyes following your figure left unnoticed, you dragged yourself up to your room to somehow get ready.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know man. Shouldn't you be locked up in your room like Stark- and he's gone. Thanks for the chat, popsicle."

This was boring, wasn't it? It was raining outside. Perhaps if you were in a rom-com you'd be soaked wet, lightheartedly dancing with a cover of dreamy clouds in the sky, glancing at your boyfriend from time to time, pretending you didn't see his "this is the woman I'll marry" eyes consuming you entirely. However, you weren't the protagonist of a rom-com, much less of a poorly written fan fiction. Additionally, your dear boyfriend wasn't officially... well, your boyfriend, and he'd been ignoring you completely. Which hurt, but your pride defeated your consciousness and you didn't want to talk to him about it.

Then, an idea took place in your mind. You had an opportunity to get back your not-much-of-a-boyfriend, the Captain's shy smile and your fun. Some might say even something more along the way.

"I AM DONE. COMPLETELY, UTTERLY DONE."

You slammed the door of Natasha's office, ignoring the frightening look she gave you and pointed to the chair right in front of you with questioning eyes.

"You slammed my door shut, might as well."

Your eyes dropped unnoticeably. Someone would have noticed though, only he wasn't there.

"I gotta do something. Would you help me with it?."

"What would I help you with, exactly? Y/N, if this is one of your unsettled plans..." She leaned back on the chair, tapping the desk with her bare fingernails.

"No! You can trust me on this, Nat. Please do. I'll buy you some nail polish."

"What?"

"WHAT?" Tony on the verge of an anxiety attack wasn't exactly how you thought this plan would go, even though him finding out was not part of it as well.

"Boss, your heart rate is increasing critically."

"Vacation's over. FRIDAY, let's go back to the compound."

You could hear their voices on the other end of the line.

You still didn't utter a word, already having made the mistake of asking your dad when he was bound to return from his "job thing" in Rome. You shouldn’t have said that, because "you never care about it", so it was either a party you were planning or a date. Besides, you might've mentioned the mission that you later remembered, you weren’t supposed to know about.

Your leg was trembling now, having realized the crap mistake you made. "Well shit."

"Y/N!"

"Oh, forgot you were still on. Love you, Dad, bye."

Natasha gawked at you, shaking her head slightly, arms crossed in front of her. This plan was a massive mistake. But it was your plan and you wouldn’t give up on it.

Around noon, Stark made his entry into the structure and went straight to your room, knocking on the door half a time and anchoring his feet to the ground with every step. Hiding your uneven breath, and thanking Nat for her wise advice ("just play sick", she said), you raised the sheets over your painted red nose.

Your dad searched for you in your cosy bedroom, just to find your teary innocent eyes full of greed for success. Maybe you did have a fever.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you were sick? I thought you were gonna run off to a party or something you kids do."

You shifted under the covers. Shit. That was the plan after all. You were going to coerce Steve into partying with you somewhere you knew Loki would find you, like perhaps that club just around the corner where he wore that leather jacket once. Big story. Regardless, it didn't mean much now that he just vanished from your life.

"I wouldn't have gone anywhere."

An aching cough caught your breath. You tried to keep your eyebrows from furrowing at the actual symptom. You never got sick. Not really, at least.

Tony's eyes were clouded with worry, not liking the sight of you in pain.

"This is what we'll do, kid. You get some rest and I'll have Steve make you some tea."

You sniggered: "Just don't call it a cuppa."

As soon as he left the room, Natasha came out of the bathroom. Your eyes felt heavy, but your mind was still somewhere else.

"You'd make a great actress, has anyone told you that?" she grinned. You liked Nat, especially when you knew she was comfortable enough to enjoy spending time with you. She was your first real friend here at the compound. Your father would keep you hidden here when you were younger, and even though he tried his best to never make you feel like you were alone, he wasn't around much, and always left you with Pepper or Happy, who you now knew as your mother and uncle.

You coughed once again, this time harder, and brought a hand on your chest.

Nat stared at you for a little while.

"You're ill."

"Yeah. And the sun's coming out. This day just couldn't get worse. Did I just manifest getting sick?"

When she stood up from the little chair that was at the side of your bed, she gave you a comforting smile, and then she left, leaving you in Morpheus' arms to fall asleep.

"Do you think perhaps it is best to wake her?"

"Don't be foolish, brother. She is much better like this."

"You mean she's comfortable?"

"I mean she's bearable."

"Ughh."

"Perfect! Lady Y/N, you seem to have awakened."

You looked at the Norse brothers standing at the feet of your bed, still feeling dizzy from your remarkable nap. You hadn't slept this good in a while.

"Thor. Yes. Woken u-uh..p." You stood up. You looked at them. You glanced at them once again.

"OH MY GOD." You quickly covered your face with your hands. Gods, Loki was in your room. He wasn't looking at you, but he was in your room. You could feel his coldness reaching up to your veins - and heart, not only making you feel sick in your stomach but also causing a complementary shameful headache.

"Is uhm... something wrong, Y/N?" Thor's warm voice grounded you slightly but never enough.

With a shallow breath, you released your hands, dropping them along with your head. Looking at the silk white sheets, you wondered if strangling yourself with them would solve anything.

"No, thank you, Thor. Could you just give me a minute to uhm... I need to uh... powder my nose."

He smiled. "Ah yes of course. We'll be in the kitchen."

Your breath hitched. You had to do something.

"Wait!" They altered their steps, this time you looked directly into Loki's ice-blue eyes. "Gotta speak. I mean- I- 'd like to speak to Loki. For a minute. If possible."

Thor adjusted the weight on his feet and then nodded, sizing the room with his comfortable aura.

The instant he left, that same energy vanished, leaving you and that subjugating man to war. A conflict formed of rivalry, an uneasy sense of fear for all that was yet to be said and a deep, desperate need for each other in all ways known to your kind.

You soon grew tired of the dreadful silence. "Are you gonna say anything or shall I speak first?"

"Speak." He kept on staring at the window.

You debated if getting out of the bed would be better for this argument.

"Don't. And there will be no such thing as an argument. I'm not going to force your decision."

You blinked at him. What? Did the ice get to his head?

"Pardon? What decision? And who gave you permission to read my mind, Loki? You left me. Alone. You didn't speak to me for a week. Like... out of nowhere. Just like that- What. Decision." You did get out of bed, now showing your white lace robe to him. If he were looking at you, you'd have felt naked under his gaze.

He kept silent for a while and you did not once stop beholding him.

"I thought you wished not to see me again." He finally witnessed you, completely, entirely, just like you knew he would. Just the way you longed for.

"Why? When did you ever get that impression from me? If I did something wrong please tell me but don't just... don't go away from me."

He attentively took a few steps closer to you. It looked menacing but you knew he was just calculating your next move. He was the prey. But it was you who kept still.

"The bar." The bar?

"What bar?"

"Last week, you brought me to a place. I wore a leather jacket."

Your eyes instantly watered a bit.

"Loki..."

"No. My actions were unnecessary and I shouldn't have- I-."

You broke, fully. You gave in to your heart and hurried to him, still too far across the room. You wrapped your trembling hands around him and almost fell whilst doing so. But he held you mightily, adapting to your action like a lock when it finds its key.

"Lokes... why'd you think that?" You tucked your face in his green and golden armour. "I lo- I know you didn't mean that. You didn't do anything wrong. Please. Is that why you weren't speaking to me anymore?"

Glancing up at him, your gazes met, lost in each other like you could both find your way home. "Yes."

You smiled softly. "Don't do that again. Just talk to me next time."

"There won't be a next time". At that, you frowned. Would he never go out with you again?

"What d'you mean?"

He caressed your cheek, hidden emotions revealed by the trembling of the movement.

"I'll do my best to not do you wrong ever again. It is a promise I'll keep as close to my heart as a dagger."

You giggled dreamily. "Please don't put a knife to your heart."

He moved you closer to his touch. "I won't. But if I do it'll be you who holds the handle."

"You cheeky bastard." And to that, he kissed you ardently, air unneeded for your lungs to work.

N/A: Any idea on what might’ve happened at the club? Also… Loki in a leather jacket.

#loki friggason #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki fandom #marvel imagine #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel movies #thor the dark world #thor odinson #tony stark #natasha romanoff

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digitalworldbound · 3 years

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day six: separation

summary: a sequel of sorts to "unexpected". hikari has to tell takeru the news.

tw: brief discussion of outcomes of a pregnancy

The examination table was uncomfortable. Her gown hung loose over her thin frame, something Hikari considered a blessing when she was able to wrap it around herself to keep the doctor’s cold hands at bay.

“What brings you in today?” Hikari’s doctor seemed kind enough. He flipped through her file, skimming his eyes across her vitals and symptoms. His smile reminded her of Jou, though he lacked the existential dread that was a trademark of her senior. Amongst the posters of glowing mothers and anatomical diagrams, her doctor looked downright cheerful. Her stomach churned.

“I think I might be…” her voice trailed off. White splotches formed around her knees where she had pressed them together. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the doctor, shame coloring her cheeks.

The doctor hummed in acknowledgement. “Well, your blood test does confirm that you are, in fact, pregnant.” Hikari flinched. It didn’t make sense. She had convinced herself that the pregnancy test she took at home didn’t count; the box itself said it was only ninety-seven percent accurate. Statistics had always been on her side, so why were they failing her now?

He gave her a few moments to collect herself before breaking the silence once more. “Would you like to hear your options?”

Hikari’s laughter sounded forced and hollow. “Options? Like what? Choosing between which family member murders me when I tell them?”

“Depending on what you choose, you may not have to tell them. Legally, you are an adult and can choose your favorable outcome of this…situation” Hikari’s wild eyes and quivering lip stirred something in the doctor’s stomach. She looked so small on the table, so young. Her file said she was nineteen years old, but the girl in front of him was heartbreakingly frail.

“You may not be able to control how your family will react, but you can decide what happens from here on out.” The doctor leaned against the sterile counter, clipboard pushed aside. “Firstly, you can choose to carry the baby to full term. After you give birth, you can either keep the child or sign it up to become adopted by another family.” He paused. Hikari wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, eyelashes clumped with unshed tears.

Clearing the lump in his throat, the doctor continued. “As of right now, you are only about seven weeks along. If you don’t like your first two options, there is still enough time to get an abor- “

“No, please.” Her voice was hoarse, cracking as the weight of her responsibility hit her.

He watched as her tears riveted down her cheeks before excusing himself politely. There wasn’t anything else he could do for her; it was her choice.

It was well past dinner time when Hikari tip-toed into their shared apartment. With all of the lights off, she could pretend that she was alone. With the lights off, she could ignore the plate of food that had been waiting for her and her boyfriend’s shoes by the door. It was time to tell him.

Takeru’s voice seeped out from underneath their bedroom door. “I don’t know what’s happening! That’s why I’m calling you. She won’t tell me anything, Miyako. Please, please, help me out.” It could have been the distress in his voice or the ultrasound crumpled in her hands, but Hikari’s eyes burned. Initially, she hadn’t wanted to burden him. A basketball scholarship and creative writing major would be abandoned for her. For them. Takeru would happily give up his dreams and hopes if Hikari so much as asked. She loved him so wholly and completely that she couldn’t bear to tell him the news; he would give up everything for her.

His footsteps traced the outline of their bedroom. She imagined him running his fingers through his hair like he did when he was frustrated. Miyako’s answer must have been vague, as Takeru’s voice rose to a new decibel.

“If it’s just a stomach bug, why has she been avoiding me? She won’t even let me touch her!” Takeru’s voice cracked. He was damned if she told him, he was damned if she didn’t.

Blood pounded in her ears. Though Hikari did her best to stay quiet, the hinges on the bedroom door gave her away. Blond hair whipped in her direction, her heart splintering.

His eyes puffy and bloodshot, Takeru was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was so unfair that he was his prettiest when he was distraught. Sniffling, he pulled her limp body to his chest. A shiver ran through her body as Takeru’s tears dampened her fringe. “Please.”

He knew that she had heard everything. Playing dumb was no longer an option. His voice trembled, his heart beating so fast, so erratically that it scared Hikari.

She relished in his warmth for a moment, letting her arms circle around her stomach. Once she told him, there would be no taking it back. It would hang between them, it would ruin everything. He loved her, even now. His heart solely belongs to her, and Hikari was about to crush it.

“Takeru.” It could have been the way her voice shook, or how she pushed him away. Regardless, his eyes were on her. The concern etched into his features nearly unraveled her. A lump crawled into her throat, a fresh wave of tears spilling over onto her cheeks.

Words spilled out of her. They didn’t make sense to her, but Takeru was kind. He listened so intently that it made her skin crawl. When the words finally dried up, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “Hikari, I don’t understand.” Slowly, he inched towards her as if she were a feral cat.

She wanted to run, but his hands held her firmly in place. He didn’t say anything else, choosing to press their foreheads together. His hands were shaking, his eyelashes clumped together. And yet, he was so gentle. He wanted to make sure that she was okay.

The ultrasound was crumpled before she handed to him, but his grip could have torn it in half. “Hikari, I don’t understand.”

Her tears dripped into her palms as she held her face in shame. “I’m pregnant.”

A sharp gasp shattered her heart. It’s best if he leaves, she reminded herself, but she wanted nothing more than for him to stay. Selfishly, wholeheartedly, she wanted him with her.

Then, she was flying. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, blindingly bright and full of promises she wasn’t sure he would keep. He spun her around and around until the smallest of giggles mingled with his own.

Setting her down, his hands found hers on her stomach. The doctor had told her that her bump wouldn’t be visible for another few weeks, but Hikari held his hand firmly in place. Takeru didn’t speak, lips trailing kisses across her face and down her neck.

“Takeru, I’m scared.” With his blind hair tickling her chin, it was hard to gauge his reaction.

He hugged her tight, snuggling further into her neck. “I’m terrified,” he admitted. “We’re so young, and there’s still so much that I want to do.” Hikari tensed. This was it.

“But,” he cupped her cheeks in between his palms, planting a kiss of reassurance on her lips, “I love you. You are the thing I am most sure about. This baby is an extension of you; of us. I’ll do whatever I need to take care of you both for the rest of my life.” A pair of thumbs wiped away her fresh tears. “That is, if you’ll have me.”

A gasp, then a pair of hands pulling closer. “Yes,” she whispered against his lips.

#takari week #takari week 2021 #takari #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami

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dantesintegrity · 3 years

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Higurashi Gou Theory [DEBUNKED]: The Miracle, Motive, and Murders of Satoshi Houjou

Satoshi has always been a fascinating character to me, mainly because we’ve only actually seen him in the first half of Chapter 5, an only in some segments of Chapter 8. Even so, his presence has been constantly lingering in Higurashi for as early as Chapter 1, and because of his sudden disappearance it only lead to more and more suspense. Not just to us, the audience, but to the characters themselves, they were completely changed because of his Disappearance. Shion was devastated by the demoning away of the one she loved, Satoko felt immense guilt because of it, and Keiichi became paranoid by the mere mention of his name. So when we found the truth that he was merely comatose in the Irie institute, we gave a sigh of relief because he was alive- yet still devastated of the news that he my never wake up. We’ve known that he has been through so much reading the Visual novel, and it only adds to the Tragic circumstance he is under.

However, This is not the Visual novel. Higurashi Gou is something new, and we have started to suspect that the culprit my in fact be someone different this time.

It was around Watadamashi that I began to think that- you know, as a joke- that Satoshi was the Culprit this time. I had no real reason to suspect him, just a crack pot theory that I will humor on occasion.

Then we all noticed something peculiar, when Keiichi woke up in Onidamashi, he was informed that Rika and Satoko were ambushed and killed.

In Watadamashi- while Rika was killed as well- it was Mion and Satoko who were killed together.

Then, in the Thirteenth episode, Mion, Shion, Rika, and Satoko were said to be dead- Supposedly killed by one Ooishi Kuraudo, if Rena’s words are to be believed.

Now, in all of these Circumstances, Satako was one of the Victims, alongside Rika. To us Original fans, we know that Rika is Certainly fated to die. In Gou, however, Satoko is added to that list.

There is a phrase that goes something like: “Once is Happenstance, Twice is Coincidence, Three times is Enemy action”

Satoko is Directly Targeted by the Culprit, I can say that with conviction.

Now, here is where my theory diverts from other theories. Some theories that she is the Culprit, murdered Rika and committed suicide. The reason why she did that is because......... Some will also that she is a Looper, Evidence to support this is that.................. Some say she is just sus.

While I agree, some- key word, some- of her actions are suspicious, I believe that she is actually more of a distraction if anything else. Whether it is intentional or coincidental, we are the ones who is being deceived into thinking that Satoko is behind everything.

But we are focusing too much one what is being shown by the light, when the truth may be in the shadows. Additionally, one of the complaints I have been seeing for this series is that the Endings of each arc seems to just pop up out of no where, unlike the original where we would be able to at least get a grasp of how the story ends. However in Gou, we are being kept in the Dark, as well as other things...

In a previous theory of mine, I suggested that the existence of Satoshi is narratively being kept in the dark. Original viewers would have noticed that he was barely mentioned, and new viewer who noticed the bat would wonder who this “Satoshi” person even before Tataridamashi.

From Keiichi, who doesn’t know who Satoshi is. To the club members characters, who never mention him. To Rika, who perhaps completely ruled out him as a possibility.

(Note: Before anyone says anything on Knox’s First, You must remember that literally the first thing we see in the Opening is Satoshi’ name. It is written in Japanese, so anyone who knows Japanese, or knows the bare minimum of how to use google translate would know that his name is written plain as day. Therefore, no, this does not Violate Knox’s First. If you don’t take that as evidence because it is in the Opening and not in the actual episode, then you are also forced to disregard any and all other evidence that shows up in the Opening, yes, that includes the blonde hair girl.)

While the endings and circumstances of those endings are very different from the original- and some might even say ‘out of no-where.’ There is one thing that actually remains consistent throughout all the arcs.

Onidamashi is very similar to Onikakushi, up until Keiichi lets Rena in. With some few notable exceptions (such as Takano and Tomitake dissapearing- but we will get to that later.)

Watadamashi is also fairly reminiscent to Watanagashi, at least until Rika dissapears in school- ending up in the septic tank.

Tataridamashi is almost beat for beat to Minagoroshi, all the way up to the Watanagashi Massacre.

You starting to notice a trend? The Drastic change shows itself after- or on the day of Watanagashi. Meaning that on the night of Watanagashi, something happens that drastically changes the game board.

Enter: Satoshi Houjou.

So, where does my theory begin? Well, like the original series: Satoshi kills his Aunt, Has his mental breakdown, and forced into a Coma. He enters into a Sleep that he may never wake up, nor will he ever recover from entering L5.

And then... he does.

One day, Satoshi just wakes up, completely lucid. Those at the institute thought he would have never wake up, thinking he was a lost cause and would certainly never wake up. Yet even so, an Astronomical chance happened, and he recovered from the breaking point. It was a Marvelous Occasion, A Miracle, some might even say.

Naturally, this Miracle would have effected Two people in particular: Irie Kyousuke, and Takano Miyo.

To Takano, she could have used him as evidence in support of her research and to get more funding and prevent the Shut down- it was a long shot be she may have had the slightest bit of hope.

For Irie, this was more personal for him. He knew Satoshi and wanted for things to have been better for him, now he has the chance to change everything. Plus his recovery could lead to more and better treatment for Hinamizawa syndrome- or better yet a Cure.

Satoshi meanwhile, is confused. Where is this place? What do they mean by Parasite? Why can’t he see his sister? He doesn’t understand what is going on.

So to help calm him down- or for Takano, help him cooperate- They both told him the truth behind Hinamizawa, and the Parasite.

They tell Satoshi about the truth about Satoko’s Illness, and their theory that Rika may actually be the Queen Carrier.

This is where I form the Crux of my theory, its about what they told him, combined with his willingness to do anything for his little sister.

Because, what if, when they were telling him everything, he had an idea.

What if Satoko’s illness is caused by Rika.

Rika, being the ‘Queen Carrier’ turned Satoko into an L3 Instance, causing the Hallucinations and Paranoia she has now. Yes, she is currently being Treated, but what if Rika was the one to Cause it.

Of course, Satoshi may be misinterpreting everything they are saying, but he doesn’t understand all the medical terminologies Takano and Irie use. There could also be a chance that he is not fully cured either, and that his symptoms are causing him to misinterpret everything they are.

Regardless, he has his theory, Rika is the cause of everything.

There is another that thing could have happened while he was under their Care. One day, Takano was taking some samples from him, testing to see what could have caused his awakening.

Satoshi then asked a question, something like “Will I ever be able to see Satoko.”

Takano possible replied, “Well, unless she also has a full on breakdown like you, then maybe we’ll let you meet with her- but she might not even recognize you, like you couldn’t recognize anyone other than your Aunt.”

Satoshi, feeling dread from her response, then ask, “Well... what will you do with her then?!?!”

Takano, perhaps Joking, replies, “Don’t know, maybe I’ll dissect her brain hee hee hee.”

Whether Takano was joking or not, Satoshi took it literally. I mean, with this secret underground facility under the Clinic, a paramilitary group at her command, She is more than capable of kidnapping Satoko and dissecting her.

He killed his Aunt to protect his sister, but now he knows what could really be up against them. Takano can take Satoko, and examine her brain and do all kinds of horrible experiments on her, all while Satoko is still alive.......

Satoshi would not let them do that, but he is their medically confined prisoner.

He needs to escape.

He needs to stop that monster from demoning away Satoko.

He needs to make sure this ‘Tokyo’ organization from ever doing harm to her.

...

He needs to Kill Satoko.

He doesn’t want to... but what option does he have? If Satoko does breakdown, then she will become Takano’s lab rat. Even if they do manage to escape, she will be unmedicated, and her condition will degrade even further.

To Satoshi, that is his only option, it would be a mercy kill in his eyes.

And while he’s at it, why doesn’t he kill the person who is also heart of this damn parasite.

He needs to kill Rika Furude.

So, on the night of Watanagashi Festival, he decides then to escape.

Perhaps to keep extra watch on Rika, there were fewer Mountain Dogs on the Clinic, or the others were in the Secret base that Takano planned on hiding out in. Meaning that on that night, there were few people guarding the Clinic.

That night, he gets up, and finds anything relatively bat-shaped, and escapes his room. He tries his best to hide in the many dark corners of the Clinic, but eventually he is spotted, and he is reported to the others. They try their best to stop him, but he does manage to escape, almost as if Fate was certainly on he side.

After he escapes, its reported to Takano and Tomitake, right before she enact her plan. She now has more important matters to deal with, so she suggested that her and Tomitake remain hidden in the mean time, to protect themselves from what ever danger Satoshi poses, and also to- just for her own amusement- keep up the appearance of the Curse.

So her and Tomitake begin their search for Satoshi Houjou.

And Satoshi Houjou will begin this years new game, his goal:

Kill Satoko Houjou and Rika Furude.

Well this theory took me a while to type, Sorry if there are any spelling or grammar errors, but this is actually the third time I had to write a lot of that, since my computer crashed while I was typing... Twice. Feel free to comment any Critiques to my theory. Soon I will need to write my theory on each one of the arcs, so I can fully break down what happened.

#higurashi #higurashi gou #higurashi gou theory #Satoshi Houjou #Satoko Houjou #Rika Furude #Satoshi Hojo #Satoko Hojo

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ashleyswrittenwords · 4 years

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Frogs, Fevers, and Forehead Kisses

My titles are getting more unimaginative by the day.

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“Her Royal Highness requested that we test the specimen she found by Death Mountain.”

The princess’s knight attendant looked between the Sheikah scientists with growing confusion, the overly respectful distance only increased his worry. Robbie and Purah inched further away as if he were a grizzly bear still debating whether he wanted to eat them.

“I don’t understand,” his brow furrowed, “Is the princess okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Robbie waved him off. “Mere symptoms.”

His heart dropped, “Symptoms? Of what?”

“Link,” Impa said crisply from behind the two. He couldn’t see her face from behind Robbie, but that sternness was unmistakable. “In the frog, Purah found a strain of the flu that was thought to be extinct.”

“Is,” he tried to swallow the dread in his throat. “Is she in danger?” Hylia, it had to be the frog, didn’t it? After incessant pleads from Princess Zelda, he quickly learned he didn’t have the strength to deny her for long. That night they roasted it over a fire with as much seasoning as he could find, then they shared it and he was bombarded with her scientific analysis.

Did he feel any more energetic? No.

Could he see any better in the dark? No.

Was he ill or queasy? Not any more than one would be when they eat a charred amphibian.

And, if he were being honest, it wasn’t that bad. The spices definitely helped with the taste, though Link doubted he would do it again on his own volition.

“Historically, no,” Purah inserted, adjusting her glasses, “Unless you are a specific subrace of Hylian, the host will only experience common flu symptoms from seven to fourteen days – which is the apparent case with Zelda.”

An itch started in his sinuses and he tried to ignore it.

“And what would happen if that specific person were affected?”

“Oh, I can answer that!” Robbie pointed his chin up, airy in his demeanor. “The Sheikah would experience symptoms such as vomiting, pneumonia, and subsequent death.”

The itching came to a head and Link sneezed loudly into his elbow, leaving Impa to yelp and run down the hall. “Send him away! Goddesses, send the infested child away!”

Purah pursed her lips, “Ah, she means we have to isolate you and the princess.”

---

They had been in the same room for two days now, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Princess Zelda had been his charge for nearly a year. However, it had never been like this. Neither of them were allowed to leave the room nor interact with anyone that wasn’t already infected – and that was restricted to Link and Zelda.

The room was isolated in the west wing due to the lesser populated halls and, until their isolation, was meant exclusively for storage. A large bed had been moved in for the princess and a smaller cot for her knight. Other than that, the room was barren and the essentials were brought up and left by the door where he was only allowed to open it once the servant had left. It wasn’t long until the castle realized the top physicians were all Sheikah of origin who feared the possible levels of contagion.

Upon his arrival, it was obvious that Zelda had been taking the brunt of the illness. The princess was already burrowed within the quilts of her new bed with a heated fever. So, through the mahogany of the door, it was decided that Link would be her main caretaker and communicate her vitals every morning.

A knock at the door snapped Link out of his daydreaming haze and he approached it.

“Yes?”

The voice was muffled yet unquestionably regal, “How is she?”

Link gave a passing glance to the girl resting in her bed and lowered his voice, “She’s resting now, Your Majesty.”

King Rhoam sighed, “I suppose it is for the better. You’re a decent lad, Link. Look after her.”

“I’ll let the princess know you came by.”

Receding footsteps signified the king’s departure. Link turned to the sleeping form under the quilts. The princess had woken up a half hour ago, shuddering from a cold that wasn’t there. He found himself being drawn to her without needing to be. With the covers drawn to her chin, her hair formed a halo around her in tangled blonde strands. Audible breaths came from her slightly parted lips and her cheeks were flushed pink with fever. Link’s rather sleepy expression upturned.

Gently, he leaned down onto the mattress. With one hand, he smoothed down the short hairs that so often fell in her face and pressed his lips to her forehead.

It was a quick show of affection and as quickly as he had indulged, he moved away to rest his exhausted head on the cot.

After all, he was sick too.

---

Four days into isolation, the princess learned she couldn’t read for long in her condition. With a lantern wicking from her bedpost, her knight had taken up the task by sitting in a chair that looked older than his father. At her bedside, he read through a novel about a milk maid who decided she wanted to travel the world and fell in love with a highwayman. Now they were at the part where she was cornered by ruffians and this masked crusader rides in on his midnight stallion. With one raise of his sword-

“You have a nice voice,” Zelda interrupted him. He glanced up from the book to see her quietly watching him, her cheek flush with the pillow below her.

“It’s the fever talking,” he simply said, caught between the magnifying green of her eyes and the following words of the novel.

She made a small motion, “No, I mean it. I want to hear what’s going to happen next, but at the same time it’s like I’m being lulled to sleep.” Then, almost predictably, she fell into a heavy cough that haunted her when she spoke too much. Link knew it sounded worse than it really was, but it made him wince regardless, “I think that means we should get some sleep.”

A whine came from the bed, “It does not!”

“It’s already late and you need to build up your strength.”

“Link, please?” Zelda paused him as he stood. There was that look again. The look that got them in this mess in the first place. Just as he was going to deny her a final time, she hurriedly said, “I’ll fall asleep if you keep reading. And tomorrow we can read over where I fell asleep so I don’t miss anything.”

Link closed his eyes, relenting and falling back into the chair. “Fine.”

She smiled to herself and briefly he thought that if she stood in the middle of battlefield with that face, she could stop a war.

He read for an hour. The highwayman had revealed himself to the former milk maid and she gasped. It was the blacksmith’s son who she had been betrothed to since they were young. She hadn’t seen him in years and fearing her reaction, he ran from her. Link let his voice trail off.

The princess didn’t budge. Her arm hung off the bed in slumber. Slowly, in case the chair decided to creak, Link rose and set the novel on the seat. He took her forearm gingerly and tucked it into the pile of covers. Although her smile was gone, the relaxed expression she wore affected him all the same. Impulsion took over and he brushed her hair aside and kissed above her brow.

Then, uneventfully, he blew the lantern out.

---

Six days of isolation passes by and now there is splashing water.

“Link, don’t look.”

“I’m not looking.”

“I know, but just… don’t look.”

“I’m not looking!”

The tub was in the center of the room and Link was buried under a blanket. He heard a loud slosh and then water dripping into the tub. Zelda sighed from the other side of the room, finally feeling clean after almost a week. It seemed as if they were on a scale. The healthier Zelda seemed to get; the more ill Link seemed to fall. Some of her blankets were transferred over to his small cot.

“Alright,” she finally said, “I’m dressed now.”

Groaning, he sat up. Link felt every bit as awful as he looked. His hair was in disarray and tissues covered his surroundings. “I don’t think I need to bathe.”

Zelda stared incredulously, “You must.”

“I don’t want to.”

She wore a simple day gown that was so soft that she could sleep in it if needed. “It’ll make you feel better.”

His eyes drooped in her direction, “Nothing can.” Then, he let himself fall to the cot.

The princess crossed the room, eyes rolling but concern glinting, “Don’t be dramatic.” From behind, she pulled him up to a seat and, gods, was he heavy. As she whispered small encouragements, he let her pull him to a wobbly stand and towards the tub. The water was bubbly and he looked at her with absent accusation.

And bashfully, she admitted it, “I prefer bubble baths.”

Link didn’t say anything and simply stared.

“What?” Zelda felt suddenly insecure.

Tiredly, he drew in a breath, “I have to undress, Princess.”

“Oh!” she spun on her heel, face aflame. “Right.”

Clothes were heard being discarded and she could make out his tired voice, “Zelda, don’t look.”

“Oh, shush.”

He laughed and the water moved as he got in. The water was still steaming when she got out and it no doubt felt nice on his skin. And, quite unfortunately, the thought practically returned the thick blush of a fever. Busying herself with the book about the milk maid, she looked through the parts she never got the chance to read herself. He had finished the book for her last night and as she skimmed the pages, she could hear his voice read the words.

“I liked this book,” she said with a passing breeze in her tone. He hummed, “I think I did too.”

A smile played on her lips, “What was your favorite part?”

Link thought for a moment, “When you would grip the covers whenever the highwayman was in danger.”

Afterward, Zelda listened as he dunked his head underwater.

“Zelda,” he sounded frustrated. “I… I can’t reach my head.”

“What?”

“Whenever I try to wash my hair, I feel like passing out. And I really don’t want to pass out in water.”

She blinked at the wall, “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

“You don’t have to. I just don’t want you to yell at me when you see that my hair is still greasy.”

“Can I wash your hair for you?”

A beat of silence went by and then, “… I suppose.”

Zelda took the back of the old chair at her bedside and dragged in over, careful to not look at the tub unless absolutely necessarily. At most, she glanced at the wood. Link sat with his back to her. Thankfully, the bubble bath was an ingenious invention because the only thing she could see was the midpoint of his torso and his knees jutting out of the water. Even if she stared, she probably couldn’t spy anything… not that she would, that is.

“Hand me the soap,” she gently commanded as she sat.

He did and she ran a hand experimentally through a portion of his hair. The locks were wet and free, partially stuck to his neck. She spilled a generous amount of shampoo on her hand and lathered it between her palms. Then she began to entangle her fingers in his scalp and brushed.

“You didn’t touch your soup last night or today,” she stated plainly, “That’s why the heat is getting to you.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” it sounded more like a weak complaint. The princess bit the inside of her cheek and tried unsuccessfully not to look down at the water running along his neck. Admittedly, he was very pretty to look at – from behind, at least. Zelda was a simple woman, she appreciated the male physique, and his back muscles were very appreciable.

Her fingers were tender and forgiving in hair that hadn’t been properly brushed in days. So much so, that he leaned into her touch. When they found a tangled knot, she worked at it without pulling until it came free. Far too soon, she pulled away.

“Okay,” Zelda pronounced. “Dunk into the water and I’ll shake the soap out.”

He nodded, sidling into the water until fully submerged. Tautly, she ran her hands through his hair and laughed as bubbles of soap and his breath came to the surface. Eventually he came back up, breathing in air.

“Thank you.”

She nodded without him seeing and went back to the book while he scrubbed up. Once he was dressed, he allowed her to know and she turned with a question on her lips, “Would you prefer the bed? I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the cot if it meant you were warmer.”

Even then, she watched him shiver out a tentative no.

“You need it more,” Link straightened out the blanket on the cot.

“That’s not true,” she moved to the edge of the bed. “I don’t have a fever anymore. You do.”

He shook his head and croaked out, “I’m fine.”

“We can share it. It’s big enough, Link.”

Of course, he hesitated. It was a large bed with comfortable pillows and a mass of quilts. Not to mention, an inviting princess looking at him with doe eyes. But…

Zelda sat with her legs tucked under her, “The door’s locked. No one would find out.”

He let go of the cot’s blanket and walked to the bed; she smiled and pulled back the covers on his side. Without words, they rearranged the pillows so she wouldn’t hoard them all and Zelda reached for the lantern.

“Goodnight, Link.”

“Goodnight, Zelda.”

For the first time in their isolation, Link didn’t dare continue his routine of sneaking forehead kisses once she was asleep. He was far too tired and the newfound comfort of a proper mattress with all too enticing. Although, as he floating into a dream, he could have sworn someone had cupped his cheek and warm lips kissed his forehead.

#i tried talking myself into making this a smut but i couldn't do it #bc as we all know im a coward #we been knew #ily anon #ashleyswrittenwords #zelink #zelda #link #loz #legend of zelda #loz fanfiction #zelink fanfiction #zelink oneshot

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 3 years

Text

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 63 – Time

Raizel answered oh-so-serenely to Frankenstein’s question, Frankenstein and Lascrea tilting their heads.

And then a rustle, so dim that no ordinary human ear would have detected it, spread through Lascrea’s phone.

Immediately following was an ear-splitting shout, which broke the calm of the listeners’ faces for a moment.

“...You’re laughing. Is it safe to assume that the worst is over now?”

<Haha, so is my voice like a yes-or-no sign to determine whether we’re out of the woods? That’s not so bad.>

Tao sounded like the usual, the auditory depiction of his usual stance, making a good-hearted smile while scratching the back of his head.

But of course, everyone knew that it was not the time yet to relieve their shoulders of the tension.

When Lunark was urgently hospitalized after her life-dealing battle against the Dark Spear, Lascrea had a chance to receive Tao's post-disaster-report from Seoul – or rather, she had a chance to talk to Raizel over the phone, who was reported by Tao.

She relayed to Frankenstein how Seoul just suffered a calamity out of norm, and thanks to her he was now aware of what took place in the capital city of the Republic of Korea.

However, Frankenstein had not the faintest idea of why Raizel was with Tao.

The only scenario he had expected from Raizel was to leave whatever that is to happen in Korea to KSA and RK and wait and rest at home.

Since Tao is in charge with everything whenever Frankenstein is not present, there is no chance at all for the said RK to leave the scene too soon.

Which led to a conclusion that Raizel decided to leave his respite and join Tao.

Which was not at all a good sign for Frankenstein.

“I give you a chance to show what a talented diplomat you can be, Tao. So let’s hear it – give me the 5 w’s and 1 h regarding why I’m listening to both your voice and my master’s voice.”

<Haha... Boss... You do realize Master Rai is right here, don’t you?>

“Of course I do. And he would be bewildered if I don’t say something like this.”

<...How unfortunate that there’s no way for me to counter that.>

Despite his half-hearted tantrum-slash-jest, Tao was already waiting for his moment to dispense what Frankenstein was anticipating.

“Yes, but I’d thought there’s nothing that requires my master to take a late-night trip.”

“That is good.”

Lascrea broke her silence to add to the conversation switched to the speaker mode.

Frankenstein nodded in agreement and kept his attention on Tao’s speech.

“So there must be loads of witnesses. And tons of footages taken by passersby. Since it broke out in the middle of a night when KSA had only a limited number of personnel, not enough to control the perimeter or the media.”

<Exactly. As for the footages, we can deal with them with the common protocol. Besides, I’m here to help, so no worries there. But as for the memories of the victims and witnesses...>

“...So you’re saying my master...”

No sound could be heard past the phone.

However, sometimes silence can serve as an assurance more functional than any syllable spoken.

And sometimes silence can serve as a weapon deadlier than any vowel articulated.

Especially when it comes from Frankenstein.

“There must be at least dozens of victims from this case, and if master applied his power to every single person included...!”

<Frankenstein. I am fine.>

Right when Frankenstein’s voice was about to skyrocket, Raizel’s words flickered like a crane settling down on its nest, so very smooth and effortless.

As much as Frankenstein was enraged, he knew he could not stay enraged if Raizel himself seeks to drop the subject.

Although that did not mean his rage met its demise; now he was upset.

His rage, having lost its exit, moved onto a topic not very far from its original prey.

“Anyways... You’ve been keeping it a secret that you’ve made a tenant out of a member of Cerberus.”

<Uh... Well... Yeah. It just happened. Hahaha...>

Tao retorted with a laugh, but Frankenstein could clearly see Tao in deepest regret.

Regret that he should not have opened everything in relation to the trouble at Seoul, in fear that something else might happen if he does not share everything to his boss.

And no reminder was needed that to Frankenstein, this was far beyond a mere disobedience.

“Forget it. What can I say, after everything that has happened? If it weren’t for that Cerberus friend of yours, we wouldn’t have dealt with the disaster at Seoul. In fact, I should be rewarding Takio for winning her over.”

<Oh, speaking of which, maybe you could really do that for Takio, boss.>

“What? Did he beg to me to forget about how one of my safehouses was blown up because of that fiend called Kornel?”

<Uh, no, but... He has a favor.>

“A favor...?”

Right after the pseudo-zombie breakout at Korea was officially closed, naturally all victims were immediately sent to KSA headquarter or hospitals in association with KSA for check-up and treatment.

Which resulted in the overflow of all beds available with victims of body modification and victims of the aforementioned victims.

Because of which the RK, Yuigi, and KSA agents that took part in the incident could only sit and get in line.

Which naturally served as a reminder for Takio.

“...That was meant to be a joke. Sort of. Thanks a lot for making a real deal out of it. So, what is this symptom that you’re talking about?”

Tao retraced his memories – that is, he retraced Takio’s memories based on Yuigi’s testaments, on what she had gone through during Kornel’s raid on the safehouse.

Which resulted in Frankenstein’s silence, something that Lascrea and Tao found as a puzzlement.

There is not a soul left upon Earth who can match Frankenstein with research, so they doubted this would be something not even he can do something about.

However, their concern was proved as meaningless, at least hinted by what Frankenstein said.

“Are you sure...? You swear that she lost control of her own body? With her conscious alive, trapped in her own form to watch and hear and comprehend everything that her own flesh and bones were wreaking?”

<Yep. That’s what she said.>

They knew what Tao spoke of was strikingly similar to what followed Frankenstein’s loss of his body to the Dark Spear.

Hence Lascrea and Tao felt their hearts wince and shrivel, dreading the potential connection Frankenstein could make between Yuigi’s mystery and the Dark Spear.

However, the next moment they could make out a perplexing mixture of anxiety and excitement in his voice.

“Tao. I want you to prepare everything I’d need to run full examination on her, on the double. I want to get started as soon as I make it. I'll be on my way soon enough.”

<What? You mean... You're coming over right now?>

“Frankenstein, I fear your body yet requires...”

Lascrea, perhaps having waited for a moment to make the suggestion, offered as Tao posed a concern.

Nevertheless, Frankenstein was already smoothing out his attire, the gesture adamant.

Upon which Lascrea chose to give up on reasoning with him.

Her history with Frankenstein was neither old nor thick; yet she had an advice from Gechutel that it is impossible to make Frankenstein give up on his resolve when he looked like what she was beholding.

Most importantly, even Raizel himself was remaining wordless on Frankenstein’s decision, and her intuition was telling her that it is futile to talk to him anymore.

Still, Frankenstein was not the type of a man to keep his people worried, especially his master, regardless of his speechless stance.

“I’ll be right there, as soon as I finish treatments and check-up that won’t hold me for more than 10 minutes.”

“...In that case, I shall relay the message to my medical personnel.”

“That will be more than appreciated.”

“Sure thing. I shall see you in a bit, master.”

<...No need to hurry, Frankenstein. The last thing you can save at the moment is time.>

As he watched how the voice chat on Lascrea’s phone was terminated, Frankenstein could feel the edges of his eyes trembling, in reminiscence of Raizel’s final words.

When Raizel said there was no need for him to hurry, it meant more than the fact that Frankenstein did not need to be so impatient with his return to Korea.

After he returned the phone to Lascrea, Frankenstein was all alone, free to shift his eyes back to Lunark’s bed.

‘Time...’

The blonde man went over the term again, as he felt how the vessels and ventricles in his body were flinching and twisting.

Time.

That was what both he and Lunark needed.

There was no telling when Lunark will awaken, but he knew once she does, he will not have time.

He will not have time to settle with his feelings for her, to decide whether to let go of them. Or explore them. Or accept them.

‘Wait... What did I just say?’

Accept my feelings for her?

Frankenstein ferociously rubbed his face, realizing how he forgot about Muzaka’s request regarding Lunark’s feelings for him.

At then someone called out for his name, and he half-forced his eyes off from Lunark.

Whatever his conclusion may be regarding the werewolf, there was no denying that he needed time.

And he needed to stay away from her for the time being.

(next chapter)

Now the time has come to unravel the mysteries introduced in this fic so far, and the next chapter will feature a puzzle that was flung in Frankenstein’s face in the very beginning chapters of this fic, which is the reason why he decided to return to Seoul asap when he learned about Yuigi’s symptom. Actually, there are so many mysteries that I wanted to discuss through this fic, and I happen to be writing about one of them right now as I compose Chapter 68. I took a lot of care as I came up with this one, but it did not make it any easier for me to write about it. :P But I promise I shall do my best. :)

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yukiwrites · 5 years

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Looking Forward to the Future

Thank you so much for the support, anon! I’m,,, SOFT FOR DIMILETH...

Summary: Neither Dimitri nor Byleth had good thoughts regarding childbirth -- their mothers had died giving birth to them, after all. And yet... they couldn’t help but feel the bubbling happiness of finding out they would be parents themselves.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

_______________________________

Byleth couldn't say that she led the healthiest life around -- she preached on how to take good care of oneself and how to take proper breaks... But she hardly ever did it for herself.

It was no wonder that she had been feeling sick for quite a while now, but being so lightheaded she almost fainted? That had been a first. Now that she amassed the positions of both Queen of the Unified Kingdom of Faerghus and Archbishop of the new Church of Seiros, Byleth had her work cleanly cut out for her. A lot of it.

Regardless, startled by her blink of consciousness, a soldier brought her to the infirmary whence the former professor Manuela held the highest position of Chief Physician inside the castle.

"Oh my, that's an interesting color you have on your face, Your Majesty! Do sit down before you throw it up all over the place, please." Was how Manuela welcomed her former colleague and now Queen, smiling while she looked for the proper tools to start the examination. "Now, tell me how you're feeling. And don't hide a single detail, hm?"

Byleth slowly curled up into a ball of misery over one of the beds, her breath shallow. "I feel so sick I could- ughh..."

Manuela gasped, quickly flinging a washbasin to the floor right beside Byleth's bed. "Try not to make a mess, please! Take your time in explaining, dear, and don't force yourself. I'll be here patting your back very, very lovingly until you feel better."

"Ugh, I feel even sicker now." Byleth gurgled a laugh under her sickness, holding the basin as though it were her own child, ready to vomit inside of it at any moment. Manuela threw her head back in laughter.

"The nerve!"

After the good half of an hour passed, Byleth started to feel better. She managed to sit up on the bed, the color of her skin still a bit off, but much better than before. Wasting no time, the Queen started explaining her symptoms, fully aware that they were due to stress and exhaustion, but nevertheless wanting the opinion of a professional on the field.

The more she explained, the brighter Manuela's eyes shone, her smile turning into a huge, unsettling grin.

"And you have a history of missing periods for this long?" She asked here and there as the twirled her long smoking pipe with one hand, fiercely taking notes with the other. "My, I'm afraid I have quite the news for you, dear..."

Frowning, Byleth opened her mouth to protest, but was interrupted by a loud bang, followed by a thunderous cracking sound. Startled, both women turned to the door only to find it hanging by only two hinges, its handle nowhere to be seen.

Ah, no, wait. The handle was still in Dimitri's hand, who had rushed to the infirmary once he had heard his wife had collapsed, not paying attention to keep his strength in check. Huffing and disheveled, the King looked from the physician to his wife.

"Are- I heard that you collapsed-" he panted, meaning to walk towards her, but Manuela's laughter made him flinch out of his skin.

"What an entrance, Your Majesty! Was breaking the door to my infirmary not worth of an apology?"

Blinking, Dimitri looked from the door to where he stood, then to how he still firmly gripped the broken handle within his fingers. "I, uh-" realization started to sink in, making him blush, "forgive me for my manners, I shall have it, well, replaced within the week." He cleared his throat, walking towards the bed Byleth sat on, meaning to sit right beside her. "More importantly, what has happened?"

Watching Dimitri change his behavior entirely was always so amusing to Manuela: first, he was so flustered and worried he quite literally ran through the door, then turned to red with embarrassment Manuela had to blink and then wore a worried and fulfilling smile as he sat beside his wife, his eyes deep with worry.

"Well, now that you're here, it's gonna be much easier to give my diagnosis!" She winked to the couple, who turned their attention to her.

"Diag-" Dimitri started, but Manuela's pointing her long smoking pipe right into his face made him stop himself.

"Congratulations, Your Majesties!" She pointed it to Byleth, "you're pregnant!"

"Pre-" both Dimitri and Byleth choked on the word, yet another loud cracking sound breaking the silence like a thunder.

Widening her eyes, Manuela once again looked at the King's hand only to find that the remains of the handle he somehow still held turned to dust into his surprised grip.

"Pregnant- Byle- I-" Dimitri blabbered, his eye unfocused as his hand shook as it tried to control its strength.

Byleth silently brought one hand over her stomach, resting another one by Dimitri's right hand. She looked down as her heart thumped and her mouth ran dry.

Pregnancy.

A child.

Hers and Dimitri's.

Blinking, Byleth couldn't understand how she received such blessed and wonderful news with dread inside her chest. What was it?

"Is that a... sentence?" Dimitri blurted out under his breath, his grim thoughts taking over the happiness he was supposed to feel. Would he have to lose yet another precious person of his? There was no way he could simply be happy to have a family of his own -- undeserving as he was, there had to have some kind of exchange for such joy.

Byleth breathed in slowly, closing her eyes. So that was it... so that was how she felt.

"What?" Her brow furrowed, Manuela leaned over to listen more closely. "A sentence, Your Majesty?"

Snapping out of it, Dimitri quickly raised his chin, "I! No- of course not! This is a happy moment, yes? I should not be thinking such terrible thoughts- Everything will be fine, will it not? Indeed!"

"It's... fine, Dimitri." Byleth squeezed his hand in hers, needing its warmth. "I can't say I haven't had the exact same thought as you just did."

Manuela crossed her arms and legs in annoyance. "Will you two lovebirds stop with the telepathy and tell me what's going on?"

"Hah," Byleth chuckled before lifting her gaze to her former colleague. "I suppose it can be silly to someone with a... lot of life experience," she started.

"Well, that's a nice way to insult someone, but go on." The physician rolled her eyes.

Clearing her throat, Byleth felt the minimal squeeze Dimitri gave on her hand as support, leaning on his shoulder to feel it even more deeply. "The both of us, well, we don't have many examples of what to look forward to during childbirth -- in fact, we only have one. Our mothers died giving birth to us."

"Ahh, I see it now. No need to go on, darling. I've got the picture." Manuela took a long whiff of her smoking pipe. "So now you're holding yourself back from feeling happy about your own child because you think you'll die when it's time to deliver?"

Both King and Queen lowered their gazes to their shared handhold.

"Humph, you insult me!" Manuela bonked the both of them with the round end of her smoking pipe, making them snap their heads up to look at her. "I never once lost a mother during the delivery, and I am no stranger to such things, I'll have you know! No one will die on my watch, darling, so don't go on worrying your little heads about it, okay? Besides, you are not your mother, dear Byleth. You're so much stronger than that, it'll take much more than a single childbirth to bring you down!"

Byleth opened her mouth to retort, but the icy grip of dread started to melt inside her heart, making her unable to speak. She lowered her head once again, digging her face into Dimitri's mantle. "Can I... truly be happy about this?"

Dimitri felt a lump grow in his throat, his breathing shallow. Manuela winked.

"Of course, dear. Both of you can. It's a wonderful time for a parent to prepare for their little bundle of joy to come to the world, so enjoy it to your heart's content. Now, where's that smile we all love?"

Byleth pressed her lips into a thin line, trying not to grin like a fool. She dug her face even deeper into Dimitri's cloak, sneaking her hand through his waist to start a hug. Trembling, the King reciprocated the gesture, his eye burning with emotion. Was it alright for him to hope? To look forward to a future whence he had both Byleth and his child?

To anticipate being with his beloved through and after her term; to carry their crying child and soothe them to sleep; to watch over their growth alongside Byleth and see them grow up in a land free of war and oppression...

Was he really that fortunate? Could he- could he simply... enjoy the moment?

"Don't cry, Dimitri..." Byleth whispered by his neck, his silent, choking sobs setting her off as well. He held her ever so tenderly, nudging her neck with his nose, his drenched face matching her own.

"Th-there are happy tears, my love. Happy, wonderful tears..." He sniffled, taking her warmth into his, uncaring -- or rather, forgetting -- about watching eyes.

"You two keep on playing nice," Manuela whispered under her breath before getting up to give them some space. She would lecture them about their usual overworking behavior and what to expect during Byleth's term, but that could wait until they had digested the news.

As per Manuela's instructions, Byleth and Dimitri both were forbidden of working past usual work hours -- after all, if one was seeing working, the other would follow suit. So, no overworking for either of them.

Also, Byleth needed to have a complete nutritional makeover, so the physician had to be kept in constant contact with the royal cook and with the handmaids. Constant walks were recommended, but no more weapon or body training! Riding was also banned, though a slow, short ride could be done only if they were together.

"Professor Manuela being so strict is a sight to behold," Dimitri commented one evening after they had been scolded about being up late. Byleth giggled, squeezing her hand on his.

"She's not 'professor' anymore, though."

"Oh," the King took his free hand to his lips. "You are right as always, my love. Although I wager Manuela would relish on being called 'Professor' again."

"Because of her age? My, Dimitri, I never thought you were such a shrewd man..." Byleth teased, enjoying how a shade of red covered her husband's entire face.

"Now you are simply making fun of me! That will not do." He cleared his throat, picking his wife up in his arms. Under an 'eek', Byleth held onto Dimitri's mantle to her dear life.

"Dimitri! What's this about-"

"No more walking for you today -- time to rest, my adored Queen and mother of my child." He tried to smirk, but the bubbly happiness in his chest from simply calling Byleth 'mother of his child' made it look like a foolish grin.

Snorting, the Queen wrapped both arms around her King's neck, nudging her face on his. "Is that a royal decree, Your Majesty?"

Dimitri adjusted her on his arms, his heart quite literally on fire due to his wife's teasings. "Why, it very much is." He chuckled, turning his head ever so slightly to touch her lips with his. "I will be your support through all of this, my love," he whispered as their lips still touched, his eye comfortably closed. "Through your term; everything. For all eternity."

Byleth bit his lower lip, their breaths as one. "Then, will you heed a request of mine, O eternal protector?" She whispered solemnly in between kisses, trailing them from his mouth to his cheek and ear, making him shiver where he stood.

"Anything, my Queen." He huffed, not realizing he had stopped walking since a while ago, distracted by his wife's adorableness.

Byleth pressed her forehead on his. "Please, I beg you... take me to the kitchen. I'm craving a very specific kind of fish and I think I'll die if I don't eat it right this instant."

"Pfft-bwaha!" Dimitri snorted, then full blown laughed. "Your wish is my command, dear wife!"

Giggling, Byleth strengthened her grip on him as he started running through the halls towards the kitchen. "My hero!"

The sound of their dissolving laughter could be heard through the echoes from the large palace, bringing a smile to its residents' faces.

#dimileth #dimitri #byleth #dimitri x byleth #fire emblem three houses #fe 3h #spoilers #3h spoilers #my writings #manuela #yuki's commissions #SLAMS TABLE I LOVE HIM!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE!!!! DIMITRI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#lies down sobbing i love him

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impactsandincomes-blog · 5 years

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Hard Times, or a Hard Life? The Differences Between Situational Depression & Clinical Depression.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. In a perfect world, every day would be Mental Health Awareness Month, right? Right. But unfortunately, that’s just not the case. We’ve been programmed & conditioned into believing the only method to fixing your problems is simply acting as if they don’t exist. Or that things could just “be worse,” putting your emotions and well-being into a metaphorical category of importance. So if it doesn’t meet the criteria for “pressing” it’s just gotta be put aside for the time being. If that wasn’t bad enough, generational curses and family dysfunction add to the pile. You tell mom and dad you haven’t been feeling yourself, or you’ve been stressed out trying to keep up with your studies, and they ask if you’ve tried “going out with friends to get your mind off things, or going to bed earlier?” Because where they come from, you simply didn’t have the time to be sad or stressed. Especially if you were trying to make a living and put all your children through a decent college. Yeah, desensitization at it’s finest. But the reality is, that we’re all guilty of being desensitized. Not just with each other, but with ourselves.

Before I say anything else, let me just add that it’s completely okay to be sad and go through the blues every now and then. We all feel sadness, and even.. depressed (yes, I finally said the word you’ve been dreading to hear). But not all Depression is the same. Which means how we cope with it can’t be the same either. Understanding where your Depression is coming from can not only help yourself, but it can be beneficial to the people around you and how they can possibly be supportive of you. To keep it super simple, it’s knowing how to check in with you; taking note of what you’re feeling, why you’re feeling it, what’s triggering it, etc.

First and foremost, I do not have a degree in Psychology. I don’t have a certificate or any type of training in this area. If this is a deal breaker for you, then please feel free to click off this page. I promise I won’t be offended. All I have to offer you are my own personal experiences and insight I’ve gained throughout my life. If that’s enough for you and you’re willing to take a chance with that alone, by all means, please keep reading.

My mother has suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder, and Major Depressive Disorder (Clinical Depression) for as long as I can remember. You would think that having a family history meant that I was pre-dispositioned to be depressed or have some type of mental illness too. But by the grace of God, I wasn’t. And thanks to a very difficult path I walked solely by faith, along with receiving the right therapy over the years, I know that I will never be. But it wasn’t always this simple to figure out. When I was younger, I often suffered on & off from depression- or what I thought was “true” Depression at the time. I was maybe only 14 or 15 years old when I first started to experience it. I really couldn’t grasp what was happening to me and why I felt this way. It was true that my mother had been sick for a while, but it was at this particular point in my life where I started to really notice all the other shit that had been piling on top of that from the years prior. I only knew what Depression was based on what I would hear the doctors tell my mother. They would refer to it as a condition, and talk about medication and all sorts of confusing bodily things. There was no way I was prepared for this (I mean who ever is?) But it really didn’t make sense to me. Mind you, being depressed— you already have this negative and self-limiting outlook on life and yourself. The “Why Me?” Disease, as I used to call it. How could I have this condition, when I had a pretty happy life before I found out my mother was sick? I mean, I didn’t have the perfect childhood, but it wasn’t all terrible. I knew I was an angry kid, wether or not I wanted to admit it at the time. “It’s not like I asked to be put in this situation…” — the common response I would give to doctors who tried to force me to take medication, like my mother. “If I wasn’t here (here being my current home at the time) then I wouldn’t even be depressed. And I wouldn’t need this f**king medication.” Ding, ding ding.

The answer was that I wasn’t depressed. I had the symptoms sure: constant crying, irritability, anxiety, loss of interest in people or things. But the truth is, the symptoms or things we feel, don’t always represent the true circumstance. In this case, there was no doubt that emotionally I felt depressed. But physically/neurologically, I wasn’t.

It turns out that what I was suffering from was Adjustment Disorder (Situational Depression). Listen, no type of depression is more “real” than the other. They both can present significant challenges. But knowing the differences between the two, is important to what type of treatment you may need and how severe the condition is. Situational Depression, or Adjustment Disorder, is a short-term form of Depression caused by difficulty adjusting to, or dealing with traumatic events/changes in your life. Recovering from Situational Depression is possible when a person has come to terms with the situation and feelings associated with it. It may sound cliché, but I promise it’s true. When I changed my situation, I changed the way I felt. Finding the right therapist helped tremendously. I’m not saying that you have to run out and get a therapist every time you feel down (although it doesn’t hurt). You have to find what ultimately is effective and best for you.

Clinical Depression on the other hand, is a bit more complicated. Clinical Depression, or Major Depressive Disorder, is severe enough to get in the way of every day life and basic functioning. Unlike Situational Depression, there are usually several factors, such as your genetics or chemical imbalances in your brain— which is what I was referring to earlier when I said physically & neurologically I wasn’t depressed. In other words, it’s not just about dealing with a difficult situation. If your sadness doesn’t physically alter or effect the neurotransmitters in your brain, there’s a very strong and likely chance that you are not clinically depressed. Of course, only a doctor or psychiatrist can determine that. It still won’t change how you’re feeling or get rid of your pain right away, trust me I understand that. But knowing is really the first step. Recovering from Clinical Depression may require a bit more in depth treatment or more major life style changes. Walks outside and therapy just might not do it. Regardless, that’s perfectly okay too.

The differences I explained here are only a small, but crucial part of a bigger picture. Once you come to understand that, I assure you you’ve already begun your process in healing— whatever and however that may look like for you. I was able to transform my situation, even though it took tremendous effort at times. It was often a struggle and each day presented difficulties. But not all days were as bad as others. (A hard time). In fact, there were some good ones. Usually being away from my source of stress or sadness contributed to my good days. But still, a good is a good day. It was those few good days that helped me eventually separate myself from my mother’s issues, where every day was difficult no matter what. (A hard life). Although we shared similar symptoms, understanding where my Depression came from was a major part in how I chose to move my life forward. It ultimately effected what decisions I made in my treatment and the kind of support I needed around me, it gave me a new perspective on approaching mental illness, and most importantly, it taught me that answers are important. But, only when you know the questions to ask. Particularly, the questions you ask yourself. There goes that part about checking in with yourself, again. And there’s no “perfect” or “proper” way to check in with yourself. You just gotta start somewhere. Asking yourself simple things like “Do I regularly invest in my health? Is there anything I’m holding onto right now that I could let go of? Is my sadness effecting me from functioning daily?” It forever changed my life. I believe and pray, it can change yours too.

For more information, symptoms, and treatment options regarding MDD or AD, feel free to check out some of these links:

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/314698.php

https://www.webmd.com/depression/guide/depression-types#1

https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/April-2017/Situational-Symptoms-or-Serious-Depression-What-s

With love and overstanding,

- LG

#mental health #mentalhealthawarenessmonth

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weabbynormalblog · 3 years

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Things I learnt from Quarentine. Be a fashion Mavis Its ok to take scissors to clothing you bought because the dreaded "what was I thinking" syndrome. You've seen the transformation videos not the 5min crafts ones those don't work. Then you cut the sleeves off and make it into a v neck, boom! Now I never want to take it off. Truth. I also made sweat pants into shorts best decision ever, my yoga pants are next. Now I see things through New Quarentine eyes. I'm looking to convert everything. Declutter, zen there,craft here, now time to customize! Make a schedule It may sound boring and anal, you would be surprised at what you can accomplish when you schedule it. Schedule everything, all the things you love as well as the chores. Following a schedule is not just for busy families. Being scheduled does not mean you can't be spontaneous, you could leave a block somewhere here and there. We all have things to do for ourselves and often for others. Sometimes we need to bend like the reed in the wind. You won't sweat the small stuff cause its all manageable and doable. Dislike chores? Think of it now as a ritual that do for those you love; including yourself. Example as a child my mother was known as the Dragon Lady. Our beds and rooms needed to be clutter-free and spotless always. As an adult I have chosen to let slide a few things here and there. Making my bed is a testament to my complicated relationship with my mother that made me who I am today. She is no longer living, still I feel close to her. When I did try to let it slide, it was so strange not to make it, I should leave myself a chocolate too 😋 How to Follow a Schedule The key is to break down larger tasks into 20 minuts segments. To manage energy better toggle rest, activities, work and play. Include coloring, puzzles and crafts, things that are fun. Remember to schedule some quiet time and exercise as well. Having certain activities planed on different days will give you something positive to concentrate on and look forward to while your cleaning out the fridge or microwave. Not while driving, please watch the road. So you want to get into better shape log it on your schedule and know that your helping your brain too during these stressful times. Sometimes we have to be our own best friend and activity director. Prioritize

Everything has its time and place. Plan for tomorrow for today. Basic needs first. Time for cleaning, organizing short or long term projects. It can also include time for reducing stress, thats good for everyone. Reducing social media time, computer gaming and online/screen entertainment. I have found less is best for me. I replaced the time spendt on those things with baking, learning a new hobby, doing crafts, small home improvements and music. I also limit my Social Media exposure time. I suffer from a list of medical symptoms so max 2 hours over the course of the day is plenty social interaction for me online. If you are a SMI(social media influencer) social media is your job then its even more important to have boundaries. As an x graphics designer often I'm on a social media purge. I'll go a day or 2 without my phone on me. Then I limit to what is a healthier amount. I pay for it with swollen eyes, migraines and more stress. Whether we accept it or not the news affects us all. We need put things into a healthier perspective too with all the miss information that goes on out there online. Cultivate a sense of humor With all the doom and gloom that comes with this world, my brain,body issues, the Covid out there with my self isolation. Comedy and tradegy have never been closer. Watch some Dry Bar, its a hoot! Being human we have the ability to laugh. Humor is healthy for us in many ways. It can help change a bad mood into a better one. Laughing actually causes a positive physicalogical response in our brains and bodies. As does music. So get busy laughing, singing and dancing.

Old dogs can learn new tricks. Where our bodies may fail us as we grow older, we do become more resilient and wiser. We adapt, learn and convey. Yes some better than others. As we are what we eat, we are also what we think. Joy, contentment, peace and happiness is available to all no matter the situation. Transcendental meditation is key, a healthy lifestyle, good diet(no processed or fake food) and balance in all you do. Not as easy as it sounds. Like anything else worth doing, it takes time, practice and patience to juggle all those balls and keep them in the air. Quarentine taught me how to express my thoughts and be heard. Yes, I still have something to contribute to the world, Mr.Monologue, regardless of my mental health challenges and physical issues! It feels so good, to shine and bust out of all that negativity. I choose unlimited and not to be a waste of space. I will not let my loved ones death be in vain. I am hopeful that my encouragements have the capacity to heal, grow, adapt and flourish for others as well as for myself. To not give up, to fight the good fight. Some people are so wrapped up in self pity and they can't see past thier pain. They don't see the opportunity to grow from it. From a place of fear there is only fear. If you are optimistic and open to knowing you can feel better, won't you then try? From a place of love, theres more if it, it's easy to see. Stanby and take a deep breath-reconize the signs of your triggers, choose a different outcome. Challenge yourself to understand your triggers and affect them positively over time. That was me about 3 years ago. My moods running me. Practicing mindfulness does help. Now my anger has a shelf life. My sleep has improved greatly and so has my overall attitude and that keeps me chugging along. At some point I get more results which then motivates me further to follow my schedule, because there are results cha cha cha! Accidents happen when you are handicap, I'm learning it comes with the rough terrain. Knowing when its time to let go... It took Roll with Cole and his life partner and caregiver Charisma for me to understand that I was still engaged in a toxic relationship; while trying to survive brain / spinal injury etc. To rebuild my life. The very last thing that I needed was a negative Nancy or fearful Fred monologuing outside my head. I got enough on my plate just trying to be autonomous and in the best health possible right now. At one point our "relationship" took a turn for the worst it got very physical in a dangerous way. I took a huge step back. Silly me I thought we could help eachother out, it worked so well before the car accident. No so, ya its not working and not for a lack of trying on my part. I don't have the physical energy or the capacity to "work things out" anymore, nor waste my precious time. Thanks to #RolewithCole and Charisma for being great examples of what is working and how they make it work. Thank you for sharing. Its more than encouraging to stick to my rehab program understanding what Cole and his family has been through together. Thanks for your beacon of positivity. It so does help. I know I will find my way now even when I'm on my own. Be safe and kind out there ❤ pass it on.

#RolewithColeandCharisma #Living with Disability #Staying Positive #Surviving Quarentine #What I learnt from Quarentine #Transidental Meditation

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cookieswithoutcream · 7 years

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Something about Michael I’d like to bring up

So I’m getting kind of annoyed at how little some people pay attention to actual characters’ flaws, insecurities, and fears. And it’s not just with Michael, but something that really really bothers me about fics I read or art I see is that for whatever reason, Michael is portrayed as a big ball of anxiety who can’t function by himself and is insecure with his body. Now, I’m putting all headcanons aside because some people might argue “Well he’s trans so he’s insecure about how he looks!!”, but if we’re talking about actual canon scenarios in both the book and musical, Michael isn’t secure whatsoever about his appearance, regardless if he was actually trans or not (and don’t worry, I’ll bring up examples in a sec). I’m not trying to shit on anyone’s headcanons because I love hearing about how some people portray characters differently than others, but when you take a character and twist them around so that they’re completely ooc at that point, I get a little annoyed, especially since many of you (including myself) struggle with different types of anxiety. I wanna point out the biggest argument here that there’s a huge difference between chronic anxiety (what Jeremy has) and social anxiety (what Michael has). The root of Michael’s anxiety comes from being alone, and I’m not talking about days where he’s sitting by himself in his room playing video games. I’m talking abandoned to the point where he’s got no one to turn to. No friends. No family. No Jeremy. Since his whole life pretty much is based around Jeremy, losing him is his worst nightmare. That being said, his anxieties don’t come from the same anxieties as Jeremy. The entire story is Jeremy wanting to be popular, which usually equivalates to getting more friends. I can pretty much use the entire musical as an example of Jeremy’s chronic anxiety, starting from “More Than Survive” when he contemplates walking to school or getting on the bus. He freaks out over the smallest things, and needs to analyze the situation and literally have his stomach “fill up with dread”. He gets nervous just thinking about which path to take to get to school. He avoids eye contact in the halls, stumbles over his speech a lot, and overall constantly brings up how nervous he is, even if there’s nothing to be nervous about. That’s what you call chronic anxiety. If we go back to Michael and how his appearance doesn’t correspond with his anxieties, his fears do not match Jeremy’s at all. In the same song, he talks about how there’s “never been a better time in history to be a loser”. He’s smiling, laughing, and trying to make a joke out of the whole thing because he knows that they’re losers, but Michael’s never cared about that reality. If he did, he would’ve wanted a squip himself, but the fact is, Michael’s okay with being viewed as a nobody because he has Jeremy with him to be a loser with him, and he’s fine with that. He’s never once cared about how the school sees him, because in all honesty, why would he care? Jeremy knows who he really is he doesn’t need the approval of others. There’s a scene in the book as well (sorry I don’t have the page number but ask anybody who’s read it and they’ll say it’s near the beginning lmao) where Jeremy goes up to Michael who’s eating a disgusting sandwich and he chews it, and spits it back out through his teeth. Jeremy freaks out and says “What if someone sees you??” and Michael shakes him off, telling him that “who cares?” The two of them are already pushed aside and pegged as weird; they don’t need to not act like themselves. In the casting call for the original production of BMC, it literally says Michael is comfortable in his own skin.

People with chronic anxiety are typically not ones to be laid back often, but put in an uncomfortable situation, someone with social anxiety will be nervous regardless of their usual behavior, and that’s exactly what happens to Michael. When left alone, Jeremy is seen nervous, unable to easily make decisions and overthinks a lot of things. Michael is perfectly capable being by himself; he doesn’t need to be with Jeremy to walk through a mall to get his Clear Pepsi. If he was extremely nervous and anxious all the time, chances are he would’ve asked Jeremy to come with him so he wouldn’t need to be alone. While Jeremy does say he wants to be alone after thinking the squip wasn’t real, if Michael was actually afraid to go off by himself, he probably would’ve stayed closer to him and waited for Jeremy to accompany him, or Jeremy would’ve known his best friend gets nervous easily and would’ve walked him regardless. My point here is that it doesn’t make much sense to label Michael as the one who’s constantly nervous in any situation when in reality, he’s almost always laid back, and is even called the “anti-social headphones kid”.

One of the last points I want to make (and what I think the heart of the issue is) has to do with “ Michael in the Bathroom” because, as everyone knows, Michael is having a panic attack. I feel like many people misinterpret his character due to this song mostly because 1.) it’s a song that most people can relate to, 2.) he’s a fan favorite and it’s emotional seeing him so hurt, and 3.) it’s an entire song about his anxiety so of course some would assume that panic attack = general anxiety which is not true! In this situation, Michael’s greatest fears have become a reality. He’s at a party where he knows no one, there’s lots of people, and the one person he cared about him left him for the popular crowd. There’s no one to turn to, and he’s not exactly the best at making friends, which is where you see him with social anxiety and not chronic. Usually with chronic, as stated before, there’s sometimes not a reason to be nervous or overthink things. For Michael, he’s thinking about how he doesn’t know anyone and the one person who he did know doesn’t care about him anymore. That would send anyone into a state of panic. What bothers me the most about this scene is that people will give Michael the symptoms that Jeremy has after the events of the song and will say “Michael’s such a nervous boy he’s got anxiety!!” And while yes, this is true he has his own anxieties, they just don’t match up with the same ones as Jeremy. Yes, Michael is having a panic attack and yes, he sings about how he’s judged based on appearance (”Michael who’s a loner so he must be a stoner. Rides a PT Cruiser. God! He’s such a loser!”) but the reason behind him now caring about how he looks is because he doesn’t have that other half to not care with him. This new reality is settling in about how people are gonna look at him and judge him right away, and while yes, they’re all right that he’s a loser and a stoner, he doesn’t want to be known for that (”All you know about me is my name.”). With Jeremy with him, he had someone to know more about him then just that, but with Jeremy now being one of those who judge right away, it’s dawned on him that now he’s truly a loser. He’s lost everything and there’s nothing he can do to get it back, and that’s what also sends him into his panic attack. I’m sorry this post is so long I do have other points, but these are the main ones. I just really felt like this should be more clearly analyzed instead of slapping on a big “anxiety” tag on Michael and calling it a day, because honestly that’s washing away so much of his character and flaws and it should be looked into more.

#long story short jeremy has chronic while michael has social #there's just different types of anxiety and ppl should look into them more bc michael does have anxiety im not saying he doesn't!!!#i hope no one accuses me of thinking he doesn't have social anxiety bc if you read the entire post i make some pretty good points i think???#be more chill #michael mell #Jeremy heere #be more chill michael #be more chill Jeremy #long post #be more chill musical #bmc #text #my post

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pedroscurls · 7 years

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Title: Fatal Attraction (Part 12.)

Character(s): Ike Evans, Ben Diamond, and Diana (original female character) Summary: Diana performs and is finally rescued. Word Count: 2,693 Warning: None. Author’s Note: The plan has now put into action... Enjoy!

Throughout the week, Diana was lucky enough that Ben didn’t bother her. Her bruises had now disappeared and as Saturday neared, she was more than ready to showcase her talent again. She wondered if Ike felt bad for her, which was why he was doing all of this in the first place. She was pregnant and Ike was the father, but her main concern was trying to get out of this mansion before she started showing.

Diana’s morning sickness continued throughout the week, but with her stress lessening substantially, it wasn’t as bad as it was a week ago. Now, she was able to eat without having to toss it back up; she was also having midnight cravings that she couldn’t fulfill. Diana hoped that her show at the Miramar Playa would have some notable guests in the audience that could remove her from this dangerous environment and toxic relationship.

The morning of her performance, Diana was woken up by quiet knocks on her door. She slipped a silk robe to cover her frame and stood from her bed, padding her way to the door to reveal Ben on the other side. He was holding a tray of food and a glass of orange juice, and he was smiling.

“Ben?”

“Morning, Mrs. Diamond. It’s the big day,” he chuckled, stepping into her room without permission.

Out of instinct, Diana pulled the robe tighter around her frame and stared at him, biting her lower lip in anticipation from this sudden visit. “Thank you for breakfast, Ben.”

He set the tray down on her dresser, turning around to get a good look at her. Ben inched closer, his hands hovering along her sides as he gently rested them on her hips. “Something is different about you, baby. You’re glowing…”

“Excitement. I’m just excited to perform,” she lied.

“Hm…” Ben smiled. “Seems like it’s something else. Is it something else, Diana?”

Diana shook her head immediately. “What could it be, Ben?”

“You tell me, baby.”

“You’re overthinking. It’s nothing, Ben.” Diana laughed nervously, walking to her dresser to pick a strip of bacon from the plate. Once she looked over her shoulder at Ben, she noticed that his eyes had darkened slightly. She was aware that the lie she had given him wasn’t believable and Ben knew.

“Well, whatever it is, please remember that you are mine.”

Diana nodded hesitantly. “Of course, Ben. I married you. You’re my husband.”

“Good, because you know how I feel about liars right, baby?” he threatened.

“Y—Yes, Ben…”

He smiled, tilting his head in amusement. “All right then. I’ll let you eat your breakfast. I’ll be bringing you to the Miramar Playa later tonight.”

“Are you going to attend?” Diana asked.

“Tonight? Of course, baby.”

Once he left the room, Diana quickly locked it behind him. She sighed and stared at the food, her stomach growling immediately. Before, she was always hoping that Ben would show up to her performances, but now that he was going to attend one, she wished that he hadn’t.

The excitement was now replaced with dread. Diana didn’t want to look out into the crowd and notice Ben judging her for every move she made. She just hoped that Ben would hide himself in the shadows and allow her to do what she did best: Sing.

Diana spent the entire day preparing herself for tonight’s event. She tried to calm herself down, but the only thing that worked was if she thought about Ike and the short time they spent with one another. She would close her eyes, count back from twenty, and imagine Ike’s strong arms enveloping her frame. She imagined his warm breath breathing against her ear, his deep voice, his dimples, his naturally sparkly eyes, and most importantly, Diana imagined the way he looked at her.

Ben looked at her like she was some sort of trophy, like she was a piece of meat and nothing else. Ike looked at her like she was the entire world. His eyes would soften and a small smile would line his lips; it was enough for his dimples to show.

Diana knew it was wrong to compare both men, but the more she did, the more she realized that she had fallen for another man other than her husband. Oddly enough, she was more than okay with the idea of being married, yet falling in love with another person. Ben had controlled her the moment they moved to Miami, but she had been too naïve to notice it.

As Diana was getting ready, she made sure that her hair was perfectly curled and her make-up remained subtle. Pulling a red dress from the closet, Diana slid into the fabric and cleared her throat once she looked in the mirror.

She didn’t feel as confident as she did whenever she wore gowns as tight as this one, but Diana knew it was because she could imagine herself growing a baby bump in the matter of a few months. She wasn’t going to be able to wear dresses like this for a while, and she didn’t mind. It was time she stopped impressing Ben.

The red dress reached the floor and it sparkled with every move. With the thin spaghetti straps, the dress showcased her enlarged breasts. Diana knew it had gotten bigger since she had begun to feel the symptoms of pregnancy. Not only were they bigger, but they were even more sensitive.

There was a single knock on her door once she slid into her heels. Opening the door after she situated herself, Diana looked up at Al who grinned down at her.

“You ready? Ben’s waiting.”

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

Al nodded, leading her out of the room and down the stairs to the front yard of the mansion. Outside, Diana noticed Ben who was standing near an opened door dressed in a black and white tux. He looked proud and smug when he laid eyes on her. Little did Ben know was that while he may think he was the luckiest man alive, he wasn’t, and he never will be.

“You look gorgeous,” he grinned. “There’s that damn glow again.”

“Guess it’s the effect of makeup,” Diana laughed.

“Right. Well, let’s get this show on the road, baby. You’ve got a performance to do and I have money to make,” Ben chuckled.

Throughout the ride to the Miramar Playa, Diana felt her nerves build up. Not only did she feel her nerves, but she could feel bile rise in her throat at the thought of seeing Ike and Ben together in one room. She hoped that both men could keep their distance because she was sure that Ben had his suspicions.

Once they pulled up to the Miramar Playa, Diana stepped out and led to the changing room once Ben kissed her cheek. Now that she was alone, she shut her eyes and paced back and forth. This seemed all too familiar; she was waiting for Ike to barge through that door and kiss her, embrace her, hold her, and comfort her, but he never showed up.

Instead, it was Stevie that entered her room.

“Stevie?”

“You’re looking better,” he smiled.

“Thank you.”

“I just want to let you know that it’s going to happen tonight.”

“What?” she asked, furrowing a brow in confusion. “What’s going to happen tonight?”

“We’re getting you out,” he said simple. “After your performance, you’re going to go back to this room, but we will let Ben know that you never made it back. We’re going to manipulate all security cameras just in case he asks to see them.”

“But—”

Stevie shook his head. “I don’t have a lot of time, and neither do you. That baby you’re carrying could possibly be my brother or sister, and if you love my dad like I know he loves you, you’ll have to trust me.”

“I don’t want anything bad happening to you, or to Ike, or to anyone,” she sighed. “I’m okay.”

“Stop saying that!” Stevie exclaimed, sighing quietly afterwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Listen, Diana… This is going to happen whether you like it or not. Now is the time to choose what side you want to be on.”

Stevie allowed the silence to last for a few seconds longer before turning on his heel to leave the room. Just before he opened the door, he turned to look over at her and said, “You’re out in ten. Good luck out there.”

Once he left the room, Diana stared at herself in the mirror. She was conflicted. She knew the right choice was to follow Stevie, but if Ben ever found out that Ike was behind all of this, he would kill him. With a heavy sigh, she left her room and decided that if Ike planned to get her out, she was going to see it to the end.

She approached the stage quietly, the spotlight flashing in her direction as the musicians began playing their instruments. Almost instantly, Diana slipped into her old persona. When she was singing, she was confident. Her hips swayed, and as she glanced to the crowd, she noticed Ben immediately sitting at a table with…

Ike.

He and Ben were talking quietly, but when they both looked up to see Diana staring at them, they cleared their throats and watched her sing. Ben grinned, sipping from his drink while Ike leaned back in his seat, staring at her with longing eyes that Ben noticed immediately.

Bel, who was also sitting at the table, quietly spoke. “She’s glowing, Ben. Did you finally put a baby in that broad?”

Ben grinned. “About time too. I just hope she doesn’t end up like the rest of my ex-wives, if you know what I mean,” he laughed, nudging Ike.

“I don’t know what you mean by that, actually,” Ike spat. “Your wife is a very talented woman, Ben. She definitely belongs on a stage, singing.”

Ben nodded, “I know.”

“Does she sing often then?”

“All the time,” he lied. “Around the house, while she’s cooking, while I’m fucking her.”

Ike tightened his jaw, glancing at the other man and forcing a quiet laugh. “Singing your praises maybe,” he urged. “Regardless, you are a lucky man.”

“Thank you, Isaac. Also, thank you for doing this. I’m surprised to see this many people wanted to see her perform,” Ben admitted.

“And there were more who weren’t able to get tickets. She’s a hit, Ben.”

“That’s great… Maybe we can make this a weekly occurrence.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ike nodded.

Throughout her set, Diana’s eyes always found Ike’s and Ben’s. She made sure to not make it too obvious, so she spent a few more moments staring at Ben than she did at Ike. Though, whenever her eyes met with Ike’s gaze, there was a hidden promise behind his eyes that oddly made her feel at ease.

When she finished, Diana bowed when she heard a series of applauses. She blushed and smiled, but descended the stage to walk to her Ben. The man stood from his seat and continued clapping, looking down at her with his usual grin.

“That was great,” he smiled.

Ike stood as well, nodding. “You did amazing, Mrs. Diamond.”

“Thank you, Ben. And thank you, Mr. Evans. I had so much fun,” she smiled.

Vincent approached the table to hand the table another round of drinks and nodded subtly in Ike’s direction.

“Thank you, Vincent. Please turn on the music and let’s have these people mingle and dance before Diana takes the stage again.”

“Of course,” he replied, turning on his heel to do as he was told.

Diana looked at Ike and cleared her throat quietly, feeling Ben’s arm snake around her waist. She stiffened momentarily, but his grip on her hip tightened threateningly. She sighed, relaxing into him forcibly and stared up at Ike.

“I’m so thankful that you managed to do this, Mr. Evans. I’m sure Ben is just as grateful as I am,” Diana said.

“I am grateful. Who said I wasn’t grateful?” Ben replied, narrowing his eyes. “I am more than grateful, Isaac. He knows it already. Don’t embarrass me.”

“S—Sorry��” Diana sighed, slinking away.

Ike tightened his jaw, pocketing his hands and clenching them tightly. He tried to remain calm, maintaining a small smile as he looked between the couple. “Don’t worry about it. Ben has been more than grateful to me since this performance began,” he reassured.

“See, darling? You’re the stupid one here. Not me,” he laughed.

Diana nodded, tears pricking her eyes. She looked up at Ike and gently pulled away from Ben, clearing her throat quietly as her voice came out in a whisper and shaky tone. “I—I’m going to go back to my changing room before my next set begins.”

Ben nodded, waving her away. “Make sure you hit that high note this time, all right, baby?”

“Yes, Ben.” Diana turned on her heel, not making eye contact with Ike. Ben watched her walk away and quickly reached out to slap her backside which made her jump unexpectedly.

“That ass is mine,” Ben grinned. “She’s just as sexy naked, Isaac. I’m truly a lucky man.”

Ike forced a smile. “You are indeed, Ben.”

Back at the changing room, Stevie and Danny were waiting. She took a deep breath and nodded towards Stevie. “I’m in.”

“Great. We have to move now,” Stevie said, gently taking her hand and leading her out of the room and to the elevators. Once inside, he pressed his father’s floor button and relaxed, staring at the floor.

Danny stared at Diana, tilting his head as his blue eyes watched her carefully. “Why are you with a man like Ben Diamond?”

“He took advantage of my naivety. Promised me a better life than the one I was living… It wasn’t worth me dropping everything and anyone I knew and loved to be with a man like him. If I could take it back, I would, but at the same time, I would have never met your father,” she admitted.

“So, you’re really pregnant?” Danny asked.

“Took a test. It said it was positive. I’ve been having symptoms,” she sighed. “I can’t thank your father enough for doing this. Once I’m settled, I’ll be leaving and—”

“No chance in hell,” Stevie interrupted. “You’re family now.”

Diana nodded, biting her lower lip at the sudden warmth that overcame her. She felt safe with Stevie and Danny, just as she felt safe with Ike.

Ben flirted through the crowd, his hands lingering in places where a married man shouldn’t be touching other women. Though, he didn’t seem to mind nor care about being a committed man. He enjoyed the attention, but when the lights dimmed, Ben retreated back to his seat with Ike.

Ike was sipping on a glass of alcohol and waited for Diana to appear. Minutes passed and Ben was growing increasingly irritated.

“Where the fuck is she?” Ben growled. “I can’t believe how unprofessional she is.”

“Maybe she went to the bathroom. We’ll give her a few,” Bel suggested. “Being a pregnant woman isn’t easy, Ben.”

“I don’t think I was asking for your advice, Bel,” Ben spat.

“Let me see what’s going on,” Ike offered, standing from his seat. Just in time, Victor ran to the table and whispered into Ike’s ear. Ike feigned a shocked expression, panicking slightly. “Okay, notify the police, Vic.”

“The police?” Ben heard, standing from his seat. “Why does he need to notify the police?”

“We can’t seem to find your wife, Ben.” Ike admitted. “She never went back to her dressing room.”

Ben narrowed his eyes, tightening his jaw. “I knew I should never let her leave. Tear this goddamn place apart. We’re going to find her and when we do, she’s going to pay for it.”

Ike tightened his jaw, but nodded regardless. “We will notify the police just in case she left the hotel.”

“Thank you, Isaac,” Ben lied, flashing a small smile. “Now, let’s go look for her.”

Forever Taglist (let me know if you would like to be removed!): @a-girl-interupted || @adriannawiggins || @alyisdead || @ashzombie13 || @ask-kakashihatake || @asshatry || @chunex || @constellationsolo || @disfigured-it-out || @dixonsbait || @fiftypercentmoreintoyou || @fyeahashley88 || @harleysandbats || @hawtdiggitynegan || @heartfulloffandoms || @holyjeffreydeanmorgan || @hotfornegan || @i-am-negan-trash || @ibelongtonegan || @ididntasktogetmadedidi || @isayweallgetdrunk || @jasoncrouse || @jeffreydeanneganstrash || @jenniegs || @k4veggies || @labyrinthofheartagrams || @ladyynegan || @laymetorest77 || @ledger-kaos || @magikat409 || @myheart4ever47 || @naughtyneganjdm || @negan--is--god || @oceanicseries || @purplemuse89 || @ridingmoxley || @sable-the-trans-ham || @scentofpineandhazelnutlattes || @see-you-then-winchester || @spn-cw123 || @sweetsweetpeach || @warriorqueen1991 || @zombeeemomeee

#jeffrey dean morgan #jdm #jdm fanfiction #ike evans #ike x ofc #magic city #magic city fanfiction #story: fatal attraction

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helloitsmefay · 7 years

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Chapter 1: A Brutal Wake-Up Call

In the end of last year, I prayed that 2017 would be a great year filled with good memories, and valuable lessons. There was really nothing in particular that I prayed for. So while 2017 did serve up some pretty good moments, it did not forget to throw in a couple of learning curves, and honestly it really caught me sideways.

As nervous as I am to be writing this, I feel it is important to share stories that help. Stories that can give insight, and perspective. I went through a very dark time this year. The last time I felt this isolated and dark was a couple of years back when a certain medication I was on started exacerbating my already pre-existing symptoms. The different thing about this year was the severity of my condition.

It slowly began creeping up on me early this year until I finally knew what it felt like to hit “rock bottom”. You see, I had to hit rock bottom hard on my face to know how strong I was to get myself back up. Being in such a dark place tested my personality, my values, and my perspective. The whole embodiment of who I was and what I stood for was put to the test.

I was pretty good at keeping everything under wraps until I started unraveling so much, I could no longer keep up with myself. And my mom’s dreaded fears materialised again, I was depressed. I know what it’s like to give up on everything, and everyone. It was a tough patch, but here I am now, in probably the clearest state of mind I have been in in such a while. It’s a slow recovery, but I believe there is no such thing as small progress. Every little thing counts as progress, and I kept my eyes right on the prize. While it felt like I lost the battle countless times, it was important I made sure I won the war.

Once I realised the following lessons I picked up this year, I swear things started getting easier. Our generation already carries so much it’s no surprised why we are so prone to getting overwhelmed, anxious and bloody burnt out at some point.

Here’s what this year helped me realize. I hope this post maybe gives you some insight, too.

1. Social Media is a double-edged sword.

Life is not what it always seems through someone’s instagram feed. That account that’s always traveling and that luxury account that always has a new bag purchase? They might be both heavily in debt and living with that crippling anxiety - but they’re so addicted to the attention they’ll sacrifice their peace for it. Nobody’s life is perfect. Even with my good judgement on most things, I still let the good and bad side to get to me. So, like pulling a splinter out of a wound, I stopped social media cold turkey, and took a break to focus on things that matter. Things that will give me perspective. I spent time with my family, I reconnected with some that I haven’t checked up on in a long time, I took a good look at who my real friends are and who really is worth investing irreplaceable time with. I took some time to get my life in order. It was refreshing. I never knew how addicted this generation was until I experienced the withdrawal myself and noticed how better I felt emotionally.

2. Don’t sell your real friends for “friends” with “benefits”

I don’t have to dive-in deep with this one. There is nothing more selfish and self-damaging in the long term by trading your friends for a social circle that serves a higher agenda to you. I know it’s easy to get sucked into peer pressure and feeling like you need to make it up the ranks. But you know, we need to learn to live with less of this ego and belief that we are entitled to this superiority on the expense of our real, and valuable relationships. The sad reality is that nothing concrete results from friendships like that. And once you don’t serve their agenda, you’ll be forgotten about and pushed out.

3. Stay the hell away from toxic people, regardless of their proximity to you.

We all know these kinds of people. The manipulative, jealous and two-faced type that consciously and subconsciously suck the energy right out of your bones (and braincells). Two words: CANCEL THEM. It’s very important to weed people like them out of your life because you won’t realise just how much of a toll their negative energy and drama takes out of you until you get sidetracked from the good things happening in your life. Or until it’s too late and you’ve already sabotaged that. It’s never too late to realise you deserve better and that nobody who truly loves and appreciates you and your company would go to inexplicable lengths to directly or indirectly make your life miserable. Take no shit from anyone. I lost touch with who I considered toxic people in my life and honestly, I am doing much better in my relationships with people, and I am no longer bothered with their drama or being collateral damage as a result of their baggage.

4. Those who matter, will always be there.

I have come to learn in life that it’s not really about who you most spend time with, it’s about who stands with you when the time matters. I personally have friends that I really don’t keep in touch with, but when I come across adversity or even go after something, I find them there with me, having my back. Even if its down to a few people, you don’t need the acceptance of a village to give you support or validation. The older I get, the more I realize I am truly content with the love and support from the tight circle I have. Also, this made me feel no shame in asking for help when I was at my lowest point, because I knew this tight circle would help me back up on my two feet, and not judge me or patronize me, and that was such a relief. To be fair, having a genuine support system makes me feel like I can be a great version of myself around them both in the good times and in the bad times. Never equate the quality of your friendships with the quantity. I know I am bad at math and at calculating, but even I’ve figured this one out.

5. Give love, and you will get it back. Just don’t expect it from specific people.

I learned this year that love is the key, love is everything, love is what makes us, love is what grows us and love is what - as cheesy as it sounds - saves us. I am not talking specifically about romantic love, while that is a bonus, it’s not really everything. At some point in my life, I was bottled up with so much toxicity and negative feelings it was disrupting the true essence of who I was. I realised I was spending my time not pouring love into things or into people enough. From that moment, I made it a point in life to tell everyone who mattered to me that I loved them. Screw our culture’s fear of love! I went all in for it, guys and girls, I told them they mattered and that I love them, and I told them for the most time I saw them. Without putting into account their feelings, I felt really good when I projected those good vibes. When I made sure I knew I loved what I was wearing or doing, I felt better about myself and I indeed carried myself better, and saw the world in a more optimistic perspective. And to be honest, I didn’t put any expectation to get it back from certain people because that was not the point. It was something that I wanted to do with no expectation. However, the biggest mission of all though, is making sure every single day that I wholeheartedly love myself. There’s so much love to give to the world, and during these turbulent times with racism and discrimination, we need this. We need love. The Beatles had it all figured out in a line “All you need is love”. Love is the answer.

6. Finally, you do you.

First and foremost, you are your own best friend before anyone else. You are the focus of your story. Time wasted is time you will never have back, so why spend it doing things to satisfy others? Self-care is super important. Putting yourself on a pedestal is the best thing you can do for yourself. Beware of becoming borderline selfish, but it’s good to make time to yourself, and do things for yourself, and act the way you want to.. FOR YOURSELF. There is nobody else on this planet you owe moments of your life to. It will be really hard to get into this mindset at the start if you’ve been the kind that always was a people pleaser, and yes, I bet you it will be difficult and it might get you in a sticky situation or two. In the long run though, the peace of mind and lack of regret you will have will be the most priceless thing you can ask for. Screw society and conformity. You express yourself the way you see fit, and don’t let anyone’s words or actions invalidate your desire to be the person you want to be. I’m still working on this, but I am slowly seeing the results, and honestly, it’s worth it every time.

#helloitsmefay #self care #advice #depression #mental health

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resplendentgoldenwings · 7 years

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WestAllen Fanfic All That Remains, Chapter 9 Remnants

rating: teen

characters/pairings: Iris West, Caitlin Snow, WestAllen

warnings: grief, suicidal ideation

summary: With the pregnancy confirmed Iris has to consider her next steps.

beta: asexual-fandom-queen

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Remnants

Medical insurance was expensive; pregnancy test were cheap. She'd bought three and peed on all of them with the same result: +, yes, =. Once was chance, twice was coincidence, third time was conspiracy. She was pregnant, Iris felt her stomach twist and leapt off the toilet so she could empty it.

Linda had volunteered to stay with her, but Iris had insisted her best friend go to work. Her mom would be by for her daily lunch visit in a couple of hours; she could manage until then. There was Flash related business to consider, and she hadn't talked to Linda or anyone about that yet. Barry was a meta-human, what If the baby was too? Caitlin and Cisco had been Barry's doctors. Well, Caitlin was anyway.

They'd told her to call if she needed anything; then, of course, she'd called Caitlin a frigid, murdering bitch. The other woman had accepted her apology, but it's not like they were friends. Still, this was too important, regardless of how the other woman might respond she needed to be smart. Iris picked up her phone and typed up a quick text.

I.W.: 'You said I could call or text if I needed anything.'

C.S.: "What's going on?'

I.W. 'I'm pregnant.'

For several agonizing minutes, there was no reply.

C.S.: 'Can you come to the lab?'

I.W. 'Y.'

C.S.: 'See you in 20 minutes?'

I.W.: 'On my way.'

"Store-bought tests are pretty accurate, and you're over two months late. If you are pregnant, we can detect the presence of the fetus with an ultrasound, but I want to run a few test here at the lab just to make sure your hormone levels are normal as well as check your iron levels, blood sugar and for a few other things." Caitlin explained all of this as she drew Iris' blood. "I'm going to run down a list of first-trimester pregnancy symptoms. You've got the big two, but let's see what else is going on. Have you had any breast tenderness?"

Iris nodded.

"Headaches?"

"Yes."

"Weight loss?"

"I hadn't been eating, so I thought-" She shook her head as Caitlin finished drawing her blood.

Caitlin continued down the list, Iris' sense of dread growing with each affirmative. The period tracker, the store bought pregnancy test the could both be wrong. Caitlin Snow, a medical doctor, a geneticist, brilliant enough to work at STARLabs with Harrison Wells was confirming the pregnancy with each question.

"You know it's perfectly normal to miss these symptoms most women do or chalk them up to stress, tiredness other things," Caitlin said mistaking her growing anxiety for embarrassment perhaps.

Iris nodded. She'd never really known what to think about Caitlin, but there was no judgment in her expression. Iris appreciated that she couldn't deal with judgment under the circumstances.

Caitlin moved to the machines in the lab, slotting the blood samples for analysis and Iris looked around at the equipment.

"Caitlin, what's going to happen to this place?"

"With Barry gone it reverted to Henry. He's probably going to sell everything STARLabs never fully recovered from the accident."

"Right, but that means you're out of a job."

"Yeah, but with Barry gone-" She sighed not bothering to finish the sentence.

"Can I ask you something, something about Ronnie?"

Sadness crept into the other woman's eyes, but after a moment she nodded.

Iris took a deep breath.

"After Ronnie- if you had found out you were pregnant, would you- I don't feel as if- would you have kept it?"

The other woman's eyes widened ever so slightly, and her mouth formed an oh' of surprise before her face settled into a thoughtful frown.

"It hurt so much losing Ronnie the way that I did. I was so miserable and drained and depressed and lost. In one moment everything that we had planned was gone. I didn't have anything for anyone. I mean Iris you were here every day, almost. I saw you sometimes crying over Barry and I couldn't- I thought I should try and reach out to you, but I couldn't because losing him, losing Ronnie took everything from me back then." Caitlin shook her head. "I like to think I was a good person, but I couldn't find five minutes to offer comfort to someone who was going through something so similar to me. I can't imagine trying to care for a child, an infant, someone so needy while feeling that."

Iris nodded not wanting to interrupt the other woman's thoughts.

"But," Caitlin took a deep breath. "It lessens or perhaps you get stronger after carrying the weight of I don't know. But I think- you and Barry wanted a family, right?"

"Yeah, once I was more established in my career."

"Right. I think that once it doesn't hurt so much, once you get used to him being gone- and I know it doesn't seem like it, but you will. I think this child could make you so happy. I think you will be so glad and grateful to see Barry again in this child that you couldn't imagine it any other way." Caitlin's words were a bare husky whisper as she finished and the other woman looked away dabbing at her eyes.

Her own grief stirred at the strength of emotion emanating from the other woman and Iris reached out to her giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you, Caitlin."

The other woman smiled, faint and watery and both women looked up at the squeak of Cisco's gym shoes on the floor. He strode into the lab, dark hair bouncing, twizzler in hand.

"What's the emergency?"

Caitlin turned back to the blood sample she'd taken.

"Iris is pregnant."

Grainy black and white, two little sacs with two barely human blobs floating in them. Despite how strange the fetuses looked, almost alien, they had everything they needed to turn into two unique people all –was it 47 chromosomes, 46- everything they needed if she simply let them. Half of Barry, half of herself growing and thriving all this time without her knowledge. In addition to the picture, Caitlin had written a prescription for several pre-natal vitamins.

Iris sat in her car in the empty STARLabs parking lot. Caitlin and Cisco had both offered to drive her home, but she needed some time to herself, time to think.

Both Cisco and Caitlin were both concerned about the speedster metabolism and what that might mean for the pregnancy. Cisco was already formulating a high-calorie nutrient-dense snack bar for her in case she needed it.

Caitlin was also concerned about her iron and calcium levels. In addition to the supplements, the geneticist wanted her to eat more leafy greens, start getting three square meals a day and exercising. In short, Caitlin wanted her to start taking care of herself.

A strange tingling ache started in the back of her head, and Iris could feel her shoulders rising. Just when she was at her least, her most vulnerable more was being piled on. She had to suffer all of this unhappiness and take care of two other people somehow when she could barely care for herself. She wasn't ready for this.

Iris considered Caitlin's words, the idea that in a few years these children would make her happy. That Barry would come back into her life through their smiles or their eyes or their sense of humor made so much sense, and yet all she felt was as if she were collapsing under the weight of it.

Iris fished her phone out of her purse. She called her dad, got voice mail and called her mother.

"Mom?"

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"Can you come over?"

"I have a session with a patient starting in ten minutes sweetheart. Can you give me an hour-and-a-half?"

She wanted to say "no, I need you now.", but her mother was already doing so much for her.

"Oh- ok." Somehow she forced the word around the lump in her throat.

"Iris, are you sure you're alright?"

She took a tremulous, breath determined to hold out for 90 minutes.

"I-I can manage an hour and a half; you go work mom. I'll see you at my apartment."

"Ok honey. I love you."

"I love you, two mom."

Caitlin put the date of conception around May 12th, the night Barry proposed to her, one year to the date she'd told him she was in love with him. She wasn't surprised. May 12th was a special day for them, and Barry had been so different when they'd gotten back to his apartment, so unrestrained. Iris had always enjoyed their lovemaking, but several months into their relationship she'd started to realize Barry was holding himself back.

He hadn't that night. He'd seemed so much more himself, and something had happened at the end something that had to be related to his powers. She'd been too drowsy with satisfaction to ask him about it, too happy to care.

It was the closest they'd ever been.

She'd forgotten to mention it the next morning. Told herself she would talk to him about it later.

Somehow later never came.

Iris crumpled the ultra-sound and tossed it onto the passenger as the flood of tears came again.

It wasn't fair, if Barry had lived they would have been so happy.

A/N- Hey, everyone thanks for reading. This is a shorter chapter. I was thinking about doing more flashbacks, but I don't feel like the story needs them right now. We're starting to shift from looking back into the past and toward the future. A quick note about Iris and Caitlin here.

I don't care for the way the show writes Caitlin or the relationship between Iris and Caitlin. I thought about just handwaving a somewhat friendlier relationship into existence, but decided to actually touch on some of the reasons why Iris and Caitlin never developed a friendship in the show even though that doesn’t make sense.

Please feel free to take a moment and comment, thanks again for reading.

#The Flash #WestAllen fanfiction #Iris West #Barry Allen #AGDoren writes #Caitlin Snow #All That Remains #random and unexpected fic updates

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dnteverdoubtme · 7 years

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Nothing But The Truth

“Let us begin,” the Inquisitor started in an unaffected tone, seemingly uncaring in regards to the man standing before her or the sword held in his outstretched hands. There were almost a dozen other figures standing in the room, representatives from the Clave and members of the family alike, and her gaze brushed pass all of them before it settled upon the Shadowhunter on trial.

“State your name and rank,” she ordered as their eyes finally met.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood,” he replied without missing a beat, “Head of the New York Institute.” After almost ten years the title felt natural rolling out of his tongue.

The Soul Sword thrummed within his hold like a living wire, threatening to lash out at any given moment. The Silent brothers assured everyone that there was no reason to concern, not as long as Alec remained truthful; the nature of the accusations made against him lead the Nephilim to wonder exactly how long that might last.

“Do you consider yourself a law abiding Shadowhunter, Mr. Lightwood?” the Inquisitor proceeded without missing a beat.

Alec could see the trap laid out in front of him, how one might doubt their own loyalty in a situation like this, overthink the question considering every little transgression they had ever committed, but the question regarded his own assessment of himself and Alec had no doubts when it came to that.

“Yes,” he stated simply, feeling the breathing of those watching being held and then released in unison as nothing happened.

His conscience was clear in this matter, whenever he had broken the rules it had been with the best interest of the Clave and the Nephilim in mind, otherwise, Alec wouldn’t have done so. Whatever the Inquisitor thought of that it didn’t matter, the sword proved his words true.

“Are you aware of the laws the prohibit the love of Eros between bonded pairs of parabatai?” she asked next, and Alec’s jaw tensed as the interrogation took on a more dreaded path.

“Yes.”

“Have you and your parabatai knowingly broken such laws, Mr. Lightwood?”

“No.”

“Has your parabatai, Jace Herondale, ever suggested that you did?”

“What? No.”

“Did the two of you ever engaged in carnal relations with one another?”

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

No, he wanted to say, but the word was stuck inside his mouth and it threatened to choke him if he so much as tried. Meanwhile, the palms of his hands began to sizzle under the blade of the sword, pain shooting up his arms like an electric current that forced him to look up as his neck stiffened, tendrils of it ripping out words from him, willing or not.

“I would never-- ” he started, but the Inquisitor wouldn’t let him finish, simply raising her hand in what looked like a placating gesture in appearance alone.

“A simple yes or no will do, Mr. Lightwood. Did you or did you not wish to have sex with your parabatai?”

Hushed whispers filled the room even before he replied, just from having the accusation laid out so crudely, and Angel did Alec take his sweet time with it, enduring the pain as long as he could before another answer was wrenched from his lips. “Wishing for something is not a crime!” came the protest from the small audience. Isabelle, Alec thought fleetingly, but he couldn’t look away from the Inquisitor if he tried.

“Answer the question,” she demanded.

This time there was no resisting the Soul Sword, the pull of it so strong the response was preceded by a pained groan and followed by Alec’s own unconcealed horror.

“Yes,” he gasped, fingers curling over metal, welcoming the stinging bit of it as a distraction from what had to be his worst nightmare come to life. “Yes, I did.”

For all the time he had spent worrying about the possibility of this very moment in his youth, Alec never thought it would happen now. Not when he’s almost thirty years old and he and Jace had been through so much, and yet they’d never-- They never did anything, the love between them wasn’t like that, Alec wanted to scream. But not doing it didn’t mean he wanted it any less, even now, even after all these years.

“Have you ever acted upon such forbidden wishes?” the Inquisitor pressed on.

“No.”

“Ever touched your parabatai improperly?”

“No.”

“But you wanted to?”

“Yes.”

It continued like that. Had he ever kissed Jace? Touched him? Done anything he shouldn’t with him? No, no, always no. But did he want to? And Alec was forced to say yes, over and over again as blood dripped down his hands and pooled at his feet from holding on so tight. Yes, he wanted those things, he wanted all of it.

“Would you consider the nature of your feelings for your parabatai platonic or romantic?”

Neither, Alec wanted to say. Jace was more, so much more to him, but a question had been asked and the sword wouldn’t let him stop regardless of how much his hands bled.

“Both.”

“How long have you held these romantic feelings for Mr. Herondale?”

If it was possible to sigh he would have, but as it was all Alec could do was mourn the shreds of his dignity.

“Since I was fifteen.”

“And how old were you when you became parabatai?”

“Seventeen.”

“So you intentionally entered the bond knowing you had more than just platonic feelings for your parabatai to be?”

“I made a choice!” he snapped, fearful of where the Inquisitor was heading. Anger and dread curled Alec’s hands into fists that only welcomed the blade to cut deeper. Let it, he thought briefly, at least this way they would know he was saying the truth. “I had these feelings and I decided not to act on them, ever. Jace asked me to be his parabatai, said he knew that would be better together than we were apart, and he was right, you all know he was right.”

For the first time, he lifted his gaze again, forcing it away from the Inquisitor’s hard stare and glaring instead at every single one of those present, silently daring them to contradict him. This wasn’t just any Shadowhunter on trial, this was Alexander Lightwood, Head of the New York Institute, one of the heroes from the Mortal War; it would do them well to remember so.

“I loved-- I love my parabatai,” he admitted at last, the words lifting a weight from his chest at the same time they dangled a blade over the back of his neck threatening to fall. “And I chose to be whatever he needed me to be, and it was this. His bondmate, his brother in arms... Whatever else I might have wanted, I never acted on it, and you might be as repulsed by it as you’d like but that doesn’t make it a crime.”

A long silence followed his impassionate speech, the picture Alec cut while standing tall with the Soul Sword held in his crimson dripping hands an imposing one everyone present would be hard pressed to forget. Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, the Inquisitor spoke again, it might have been just an impression, but to Alec her voice sounded softer this time around.

“Do you have any idea why your runes have changed?”

In turn he wasn’t as combative as he spoke again, just tired, the pain that forced him to speak only truth receding in favor of an ache that just begged him to get this over with. This question had worried him the most out of everything he thought might be asked of him, but now that it had happened, Alec figured it was the easiest one of all.

“I know that it is a sign of Eros, same as you, but we didn’t commit that crime.”

The Soul Sword was silent in Alec’s hands.

He had worried so much when the symptoms started, he and Jace alike, frightened and confused as a rune his parabatai traced upon his skin with ease assumed a golden hue. They knew what it meant, they knew the stories-- Hell Alec had grew up fearing those very symptoms, but they hadn’t done anything and still it landed them here.

“Very well,” the Inquisitor cleared her throat, “You are dismissed, Mr. Lightwood-- ”

He didn’t wait for her to finish, the sacred sword clattering against the stone floor as the tall Shadowhunter walked away from the once again silent room.

Jace was waiting for him outside, his interrogation having taken place before Alec’s own, and despite all that had been said ( or perhaps precisely because of it ) he found he couldn’t quite look his parabatai in the eye, but Jace’s gaze wasn’t directed at him. His mismatched glare was focused on the door Alec had just crossed, the intensity of it telling the Alec all he needed to know: his rage had a target and it wasn’t him.

“I don’t care care about what happened in there,” Jace started, his voice so sure it broke the lingering silence like the strike of a blade, his eyes so steely Alec believed every word.

While Jace’s eyes might be harsh, his touch was nothing but soft as he reached for Alec’s hands, turning his palms upwards and inspecting the damage there, carefully running his thumb over one of the deeper cuts.

Alec couldn’t help but notice his parabatai’s hands were unscathed.

“Give me your stele,” Jace decided after a moment of deliberation, and while Alec did try to protest that they shouldn’t it was clear his parabatai wasn’t having any of it.

“Shouldn’t what?” he cut back, “Heal each other?” his tone made it clear exactly how absurd he found the suggestion to even be. “They already know about the runes, Alec,” the blond reasoned, “We’re already on trial, what else could happen?”

As much as he wanted to Alec couldn’t deny that Jace had a point. What else could happen? He had already confessed his feelings for his parabatai in front of a plethora of dignitaries from the Clave, they both have held the Soul Sword in turn, they both have said their peace. Defeated, Alec surrendered his stele without further protest and Jace wasted no time in tracing the Iratze on his hip, the golden rune glowing bright and surging with healing power.

“You know, mundanes have this law... I know you don’t care about mundane justice, but hear me out. They have a law that says if you’re judged for something, it doesn’t matter if you’re guilty or innocent, but if you’re judged for it and you pay the price, you can’t be accused of the same crime again. So if you’re arrested for killing someone and they’re still alive, you could kill them once you’re out of mundie prison and no one can do a thing, and if they accuse you of breaking the law with your parabatai...”

At some point during his little speech Alec’s eyes have found Jace’s gaze and, as always, he was irrevocably drawn by the intensity of those eyes, unable to look away or not to notice the way Jace’s eyes fell to his lips as he trailed off.

“Then what?” Alec asked, his voice sounding rougher than he expected it to be, weighted by a foreign sort of anticipation.

Jace was leaning forward then, both of then sensing the inevitability of what was about to happen, steeling themselves for it-- But the door behind them crept open once more and the moment was broken, the Inquisitor’s icy gaze following their movements as they stepped away from each other with matching blank looks upon their faces.

“We’re ready for you,” was all she said.

#jalec #jalec spring break #this goes for today and tomorrow #since it's tribulations alright #nothing but the truth #damn i'm difficult with fics #fiction #my writing

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ellenembee · 7 years

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The Revelation of All Things - 24. In which revelations are remembered and forgotten

Read the full fic here on AO3.

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Cullen stood up from his desk and immediately sat back down as a wave of dizziness threatened to topple him. He could feel the years of lyrium buildup beginning to leave his system, which was, of course, exhilarating to think about... but also excruciating to live through. Today, he'd run the full gamut - vivid nightmares, blurred vision, dizziness, cold sweats and constant headache and body aches throughout the day. The pain, instead of becoming more manageable with each passing week, had become progressively worse. The Inquisitor had given him the last of her medicinal tea when she left, and now, a week later, he was already running low. She’d promised to collect more supplies in Crestwood, but as intense as the symptoms had become, he dreaded running out before she returned.

You could have a little sip. Just one to get you through... tide you over...

Cullen growled against the insidious whisper. Standing up, he rested a fist on his desk, attempting to stabilize the world that spun around him. He would not give in. He took the final drink of the tea he'd made for lunch, which seemed to provide firmer purchase on level ground. Taking a deep breath, he walked down to the stables, gathered his horse and rode down into the valley encampment.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Rozellene," he called as he dismounted. The brisk air grounded him further as he approached the lines of men and women going through basic forms. "How are the afternoon exercises coming along?"

Rozellene shot him a smirk and waited for him to take up position beside her. "Very well, Commander. The new recruits seem to be picking up on the basics quickly, and the veterans are more attentive to their training after witnessing your resounding victory over the Qunari last week."

The Commander smiled ruefully as he recalled the exhibition and then had to push away thoughts of the one-on-one training afterwards. Now was not the time - if there were ever a good time - for unprofessional, inappropriate thoughts about their Inquisitor.

"I'm glad. Do you need assistance this afternoon?"

"We have an uneven amount of new recruits, so perhaps you could do rounds with us? It usually makes them work harder when you're pushing them."

Cullen's jaw clenched involuntarily. The world still wobbled a bit, but he thought he might be alright with new recruits. He nodded to the Lieutenant and got into formation. For an hour, he felt solid. The recruits still fumbled through the basics, so he didn't have to try very hard to keep up and instill a proper amount of fear in their hearts with his barked commands and corrections. But as they changed between each formation, the clashing of metal, glint of the sunlight on armor and raised voices began to take a toll. Pain flared behind his eyes and blurred his vision briefly, and he almost missed a parry.

"Oh, Maker! I'm so sorry, Ser!"

The recruit trembled before him, all the blood draining from his stricken face, but Cullen just waved him off and pulled out of formation, using all his remaining strength to put on a strong front for Rozellene. "Lieutenant, I must go, but please continue. The new recruits are doing fine. Excellent work."

"Yes, ser. Thank you, ser."

Rozellene said nothing more, but the strained look on her face told Cullen everything he needed to know about how he looked. Holding tightly to the saddle horn, he hauled himself onto his horse. Although the ride from the valley should have been easy, he struggled to keep a hold of the saddle as bright flashes of pain crippled his normal strength. After turning his horse over to the stable hands, he dragged up the stairs to his office and closed the doors against the harsh light just as a wave of nausea hit him. Leaning his back heavily against the wood, he shut his eyes against the dizziness and took some deep, controlled breaths. The whispering voice from earlier - a song, really, that had become stronger than ever in the last month - told him what he needed, what would make him feel well and strong again. It was there, waiting for him on the shelf in the corner. An emergency ration...

"My word, Commander. You look positively ill."

Cullen nearly jumped out of his skin. "Dorian! What in the Maker's name are you doing here? It's too early for our game."

"I saw that your people have nearly finished the gardens and had an idea about that charming gazebo in the corner ... but now I see I should be off for a healer."

"No!" Cullen pushed off the door heavily and stood straight. The pain and nausea flared again, but he did not falter, willing his vision to clear. "I'm alright."

"And you are a terrible liar, Commander. Anyone with eyes could see that you're unwell, and I happen to have exceptional eyesight. Why are you being so stubborn? A healer could relieve your pain in a matter of minutes."

"No. No healers."

Dorian's tone turned from half-sarcastic worry to anger. "Why? Because some of them are mages? I'm beginning to see what our Inquisitor is afraid of."

Cullen looked squarely into Dorian's flashing gray eyes but said nothing. Denying Dorian's claim would require an explanation - one he wasn't sure he wanted to give.

Shaking his head with a small sigh, Dorian stood up from where he had perched on the side of Cullen's desk and began walking toward the opposite door. Cullen paused another moment, debating with himself. During their first conversation Dorian had shared a piece of highly personal information about himself in good will. Could Cullen justify not returning the favor? Not to mention that Dorian would likely tell the Inquisitor about this interaction. Would she even allow Cullen to explain? Or would she write him off as the mage hater she'd thought him to be in the beginning?

Dorian reached for the door handle, and Cullen broke.

"It's not because they're mages, Dorian. Not at all. I watched as they brought back many of my soldiers from the edge of death, and I'm grateful to them for sharing their skills. It's just... a healer would signify to others that I'm ill and I... people can't know."

Dorian paused, his hand resting on the door handle. When he faced the Commander once more, the mage's face betrayed his internal war between distrust and curiosity.

"That you are ill?" he bit out. "You'll sacrifice your health because you're afraid it might affect morale? That's ridiculous. Call a healer. You'll be well before the general population even knows you were feeling out of sorts."

Cullen shook his head and spoke in a steady, even tone. "No. I won't. They could treat the symptoms but not the cause. When I begin to look ill again, even after a visit from the healers... I'm sure you can imagine."

He could see Dorian processing as he paced back to his perch on Cullen's desk. After a brief pause, he merely raised his brows and said quietly, "Yes. I see."

"I'm not interested in airing my private affairs in the public light. Cassandra is watching me and will remove me from my duties if I become incapable of serving. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this to yourself."

"Of course, Commander. I wouldn't dream of betraying your privacy, especially as you have been so accommodating with my own. I would offer my services, but I'm afraid I as yet have a limited understanding of healing magic."

Cullen waved off his concern. "It makes no difference."

After a short pause, Dorian tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "So... does our Inquisitor know about your... issues?"

"Yes, she is fully aware. She figured it out before I told her the details, actually. The Inquisitor has been providing me with medicinal herbs since Haven, which you saw her pass to me the morning she left. But I'm almost out. That is why today is so bad." That and the overall worsening of the symptoms.

Dorian just hummed and fell into his own thoughts. Cullen took the opportunity to gingerly walk to his chair and sit down with a great exhalation. The comparative darkness of his office soothed the headache and nausea, but the blurred vision remained. He almost growled in frustration. How could he respond to the pile of reports covering his desk if he couldn't read them?

Then there was Dorian still leaning against the opposite side of his desk, dark brows furrowed in thought. The mage had turned out to be quite different from what Cullen presumed, and he could now see why the Inquisitor had taken to Dorian so quickly. In the last week of mostly friendly chess matches, they had gradually talked more openly about their lives. He would never understand Tevinter culture, of that he was certain, but... perhaps this mage from the North was truly an ally. Regardless, he seemed in no hurry to leave Cullen alone. Was he worried? Or did he have more to say? The question brought to mind the mage's anger at Cullen's apparent distrust of the healers.

"You, uh... said something earlier, but I was too distracted... what did you mean by you could see what the Inquisitor was afraid of?"

"Ah, yes... something I shouldn't have said, I'm afraid. Not really my place. I told you about myself because that is my business, but anything else... let's be honest, despite my love of antagonizing her, I'm really quite terrified of her potential retribution. Have you seen her fight, felt her oppressive aura? She is not to be trifled with on serious matters."

Cullen tried to think back to Haven and if he'd really witnessed her fight. He couldn't recall seeing her in action, but from the reports, he could imagine.

"From your tone, I assume you meant that she is afraid I am still ultimately against the mages. I won't lie, we disagree about many things. But she should know that I trust her. Why would I fully support her as our leader if I didn't?"

Dorian shook his head. "I can't say more, Commander. I've already said far more than I should."

Cullen looked at the other man warily, and the worm of jealousy that had been fairly well quashed after his first conversation with Dorian reappeared. She told Dorian things she didn't tell him. It was hard to bear, but at least he could take comfort in the fact that they were certainly no more than friends.

And what if they had been more than friends? It wouldn't matter! You have no claim on her.

"I'm glad she has you to confide in, Dorian," was all he could manage.

Dorian chuckled. "Oh, I wouldn't say she confides in me. You see, Varric and I have developed a system. We say outrageous things, figure out what makes her balk - or blush - and then make her talk about those things. She'd never bring them up on her own, but if she keeps everything bottled up, she'll no doubt explode one day. With as powerful as she is, that would be one mighty explosion, and I'd like to prevent that for multiple reasons, not the least of which being I could be nearby when it happens." Dorian gestured to his immaculately mustachioed face. "I'm too pretty to die, after all."

Cullen only snorted at that, so Dorian continued, "We've been so busy that we haven't had time to talk through her feelings about Redcliffe, but it's my next mission."

And with that, Cullen's jealousy faded into nonexistence. "I wouldn't worry about that, Dorian."

"Ahhhh," Dorian nodded, his eyes sparkling like one of his chain lightning spells. "So she talked to you about it, then!" He furrowed his brows in suspicion. "I have a hard time seeing you as the 'pry it out of her' type."

Cullen smirked. "That's because I don't have to. She just tells me."

"Well, I wonder what makes you so special?" Dorian quipped.

Dorian's smug look left Cullen with a sinking feeling in his gut - like he'd just revealed something he shouldn't have. He swallowed hard. You started it by asking questions, remember? He had a flashback to a recent conversation with Captain Rylen and began to wonder if everyone in the Maker-forsaken keep knew about his unprofessional feelings toward their leader. Cullen had to admit, however, that Dorian had a point. If Dorian and Varric, her two closest friends, had to have a system to get her talk, perhaps there was something unique about how she interacted with him.

Reality quickly inserted itself, however, to remind him that a close friendship didn't mean she wanted anything more. Dorian's earlier slip of the tongue merely confirmed what Cullen already knew - the mage-templar war hung between himself and Ev- Lady Lavellan like an invisible barrier, allowing him to get close but not too close. After all, why would a mage entangle herself with someone who once wished to leash mages like animals? His stomach turned a bit at that, but he pulled himself from his thoughts and back to the conversation at hand.

"We've known each other longer, I suppose," Cullen responded hesitantly.

Dorian shook his head. "Not any longer than she and Varric. And Varric has quite the advantage over you in that he spends weeks at a time with her truding through the primitive backwaters of Ferelden. No, there's something there, Commander, whether you want to admit it or not." Dorian looked him hard in the eye. "You should think about what that something is... and what you're going to do about it."

Cullen gave him a sour look. "It's not that simple, and you know it."

"Perhaps not. But if it were easy, everyone would have it, wouldn't they?"

"I-"

Cullen massaged his temples. Were they really having this conversation? He needed a distraction. Where were those damn messengers when you actually wanted one?

"Dorian, despite the... interesting turn of our conversation, I really must get back to work."

Dorian let out a disbelieving chuckle. "And what kind of work will you be doing in your condition?"

"Well, if you would be so kind as to read a few of the most important reports to me, I can at least begin thinking through strategies to address them. Unless you have other things to attend?"

"No, no, Commander. I and my numerous talents are at your service."

Dorian stepped away from the desk, flourishing his hand and giving Cullen a low bow. Cullen just sighed and pointed at the pile of new reports in the center of his desk. Dorian pulled up the extra chair he'd brought in for chess games and began sorting through the pile.

"Oh! A report from our illustrious leader! I'll start there first, if you don't mind."

Cullen leaned his head on the back of his chair, closed his eyes and grunted his agreement, careful to keep the nervous anticipation from his face. She never wrote anything remotely inappropriate, but the tone of her letters had grown more playful - more familiar - in the last few months. And consequently, he looked forward to her letters more and more.

Dorian thankfully kept his voice low as he began reading. Or paraphrasing, really.

"After meeting with Stroud and Hawke, she apparently claimed a Keep in Crestwood and thanks you for sending ... Ah, so you already knew about that one, I see. She also thanks you 'most fervently'-" Dorian emphasized the words, and Cullen opened one eye to see the mage waggle his eyebrows. "-for the news that her clan is safe for now... gives her best to Leliana... Hmmm... dealt with some bandits, drained a lake to expose the flooded part of Crestwood, found some caves, closed the lake rift, killed a rage demon, freed a spirit, gave the residents of old Crestwood a proper burial... Yada yada... currently thinks she's closed all the rifts in Crestwood, but is giving the scouts time to do one more sweep. Oh, and apparently the Mayor flooded the old town on purpose to kill everyone with the Blight, and she wants you to send people to search for him. He seems to have run away."

"The mayor flooded the town with people in it... on purpose?"

Cullen kept his eyes closed against the light, but he couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice. He'd lived through the Blight and knew the desperation of the times, but this...

Dorian flipped the page over. "Wait, here... there's more on the back..." He read through a couple of lines silently, and his voice dropped. "Oh dear..."

Cullen sat up instantly, eyes opening wide though his head protested at the sudden light and movement. "What? What is it?"

"Don't be alarmed, Commander, she says everyone came out of it relatively unscathed. Varric has a few deep cuts that will need to be healed, and she thinks she broke... oh my..."

Cullen reached across the desk and snatched the letter from Dorian's hands. Thankfully, his vision had cleared enough to read the paragraph himself.

...now, don't be angry, Cullen, but we came across a dragon here in Crestwood that has been picking off livestock and even killed a villager or two...

"Andraste preserve me!" he groaned as he continued reading.

...Iron Bull seemed so excited, and I couldn't see any reason to risk the dragon harming any more people. We took some damage... Varric has a few deep cuts that will need healing when we get back, Blackwall and Iron Bull took some bruising blows under the dragon's feet, and I believe I may have a broken arm. Don't worry, it's not my rift-closing arm. Ha ha. The non-mage healer in Crestwood has set and wrapped it as best he can, and as soon as the scouts return with word that all the known rifts are closed, we'll head back to Skyhold.

Not looking forward to the jostling of the horse on the way back, but I'll be glad to see everyone again. Oh, and I have a surprise for you! Aren't you curious now?

Mar falon, Evana

Cullen put his head in his hands and tried to just breathe. The pain in his head intensified, and a wave of nausea hit him hard.

I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure.

She'd killed a high dragon. She'd actually faced down a giant creature of death and destruction and killed it. Taking an entire keep with just four people - granted, extensively trained and highly dangerous people - had been risky enough. Now this. The woman would be the death of him... if the lyrium withdrawal didn't kill him first.

"Shall I leave you to your reports, Commander?"

Cullen stood up slowly and looked out the small window behind him at the dimming afternoon light. It should be shaded enough now to be outside without much trouble, especially if they took the short cut through Solas' study and the great hall.

"I think I should take a walk - get some fresh air. When I first came in, you mentioned the garden. Shall we walk there, and you can tell me your thoughts on the gazebo?"

Several days later, Cullen let out a sigh of relief as he woke up with the worst of the episode behind him. The siren song of lyrium still danced in the back of his mind, but he could more easily resist when he felt like this - strong and useful. He spent most of the morning training with the officers in the upper courtyard, letting the more experienced soldiers see if they could beat him. None did, even when two tried to take him down at once.

Leliana had requested to review some things with him in the war room, so he climbed the stairs from the upper courtyard. Rolling his shoulders, Cullen relished the familiar sting of muscles sore from training as opposed to withdrawal tremors. As soon as he walked into the war room, Leliana handed him a report.

"The Inquisitor will be returning to Skyhold tonight. I have arranged for a spirit healer to be available for them in the great hall as soon as they arrive. She will likely need to rest a few days before her next mission, but I'm concerned about the news she sent us from Warden Stroud. She should meet him in the Western Approach as soon as possible."

Cullen read over the Inquisitor's report quickly and frowned. "If what Stroud says is true, if the Grey Wardens have truly joined forces with the Venatori, things have certainly gone awry with the Wardens. Captain Rylen's unit left Val Royeaux less than a week ago. Barring any further delays, it will be at least another week before they arrive in the Approach."

"I wonder if Josephine discovered what caused the delay in Val Royeaux," Leliana murmured.

"From Rylen's brief note, it seems to have been an honest miscommunication, but her man in Val Royeaux promised to elaborate when he arrives. Thank the Maker he happened to be there - not that Rylen couldn't have handled it... just made things much easier." Leliana nodded as he shuffled the Inquisitor's marker to the Western Approach and then turned his attention to eastern Orlais. "I'm also concerned about the reports of red lyrium caravans coming out of the Emerald Graves. Tracking those could lead us to Samson... and to Corypheus."

Leliana looked down at the war table with a frown, moving pieces around Orlais. "If it weren't for the urgency of the Grey Warden problem, I'd say we should send her to the Emerald Graves to meet with the illusive Fairbanks and see what the man knows. But as things stand, he can wait for her return trip." Pushing another marker over the Emerald Graves, she grimaced. "This will be a long mission with much traveling."

Cullen touched the marker in the Free Marches and added, "We'll need to make sure we talk with her about her clan as well. They will not remain safe in their current position forever."

"Yes," Leliana agreed. "Then there are the peace talks between the Empress and her cousin Gaspard to end the Orlesian civil war - we must begin preparing the Inquisitor for that soon, regardless of whether or not the Empress has set a date for the talks. If the Empress is to be assassinated, it will happen there."

They spoke of details and logistics for few more minutes before Cullen retreated to his office for another day of reports, messages, writing out orders and checking up on the progress of Skyhold reconstruction. The garden had been completed yesterday - at least, as much as could be completed. The healers, a few of them Dalish and most of them mages, had gleefully used every available piece of earth to plant herbs and medicinal flowers and now tended to them diligently. Even with the assistance of growing and warming magic, however, it would be several weeks before any real progress would be seen on that front. His only contribution had been to ensure a plot remained for the Inquisitor to plant whatever she might want. Dorian had also added a nice touch with a marble and stone chess table and matching chairs he'd found in a storage room in the basement below the great hall.

He felt a weight in his chest as he thought about showing her the space. When he first began the project, he'd been sure she'd approve, but now it was done, doubt crowded in. Would she be upset that he'd done it without her presence and direction? Would she understand why he'd done it? For that matter... did he? When cornered by Captain Rylen, Cullen had spouted off a litany of logistical reasons for giving the garden priority. And although he'd never say it out loud, he'd justified it in his head as a show of their appreciation for all she'd given up to be with them and to help the Inquisition.

But if he were being truly honest, he simply wanted to see her happy. Wanted to do something that would bring a smile to her lips. Maker, he'd spend the rest of his days making her happy if he could.

He gruffly shook off the useless and improper thoughts to focus on his work. The Inquisitor would be arriving soon, and he wanted his summary report to her to be as complete and concise as possible. The rest could wait.

Darkness had fallen around Skyhold when a small cry went up from the watch that the Inquisitor had returned. Cullen jumped up and took the middle door out of his office. Passing through Solas' study, he looked up at the elf on his scaffolding.

"The Inquisitor has arrived."

Solas stood and began climbing down from the scaffolding. Cullen walked into the great hall just as Varric and the Inquisitor, coming in from the back stairs, entered the hall as well. Solas walked up to her, greeting her with an elven phrase, which she answered, and led her to the healer waiting by the main door.

For his part, Cullen stood by the rotunda door and stared like an idiot. Maker, he'd missed her. The soft undulations of her voice reached into the deepest parts of him, soothing the ragged edges of anxiety and tension. He didn't even care that she spoke with Solas instead of him. In fact, right now, it was probably better that she didn't try to talk with him. He might not be able to form coherent sentences.

As she passed him on the way over to the healer, she looked at him and smiled - the same soft smile she'd left him with. He managed a bow and a return smile before she moved on to greet the healer. Despite her brave facade, exhaustion rolled off her in waves, and Cullen couldn't keep the concern from his face. Varric paused as he passed by.

"You look like someone died, Curly. Relax. Your Inquisitorialness, lauded bearer of the Anchor, is here and in one piece... mostly."

Varric patted him on the back as they watched the healer begin his work, and Cullen gave the dwarf a half smile in return. The healer cast a spell, and she slumped down in her chair a little bit. Taking her arm, the healer then ensured the bone had been set properly before beginning the healing process. It took some time, and Cullen watched as her grimace of pain gradually evened into a placid expression. She glanced over at him occasionally, and he tried to maintain an even expression himself, though the more he looked at her, the more concerned he became for her health. She looked positively worn out.

When the healer finished, he gave her a healing draught to address any remaining issues. She worked her arm free of the binding as she drank, testing her range of motion.

"The draught also contains herbs to help you sleep," the healer warned. "It will take effect in a few moments. You should go to your quarters."

"Oh!" She looked at the empty phial in her hands and then to the Commander. "But I need to speak with the Commander."

"Be quick," the man urged with a stern expression. "You won't be awake much longer."

The healer then moved to Varric, leaving her with Solas. Cullen stepped forward immediately.

"You wished to speak with me, Inquisitor?"

"Yes, Commander, I... would you walk me to my quarters? I just have a small matter to discuss." She turned to Solas, bowing slightly. "Ma serannas, lethallin."

Solas smiled and bowed as well, then returned to his office. She turned to reach for her saddle bags, but Cullen beat her to it, taking one in each hand. She smiled and began walking with him down the length of the hall.

"Aneth ara - hello, Cullen."

He swallowed hard. She was close enough that he could smell the dust from her journey and that soft, earthy scent that he connected solely with her.

"Inqui - my lady. How are you feeling?"

She looked down the hall and took a long breath. "Souveri." Then, glancing back at him, she translated, "Tired."

"Yes, and you should get to your quarters quickly. Whatever it is you need to tell me, I'm sure it can wait until you are rested."

"But that is why we're walking and talking," she said with a smile. "Besides, it will only take a moment. Have you been wondering about my surprise?"

Cullen's mind struggled to keep up as his eyes greedily swept over her face. Despite her fatigue, her eyes sparkled with excitement, and his heart thumped mightily at the sight. He waited until they'd passed through the door from the main hall and started down the long, torch-lined corridor before responding.

"Ah... I..." He cleared his throat and started again. "I was rather too preoccupied with the part where you slayed a dragon to think on it at first." Her face fell slightly, and he rushed to add, "But I admit that after the shock of your letter wore away, I did wonder at it."

And he had, though he had no intention of revealing how many times he'd read over her letter in the past few days in an attempt to suss out some sort of deeper meaning behind the vague words.

Without looking up at him, she plucked one of her bags from his hand and flipped it open. He barely caught her voice, soft and tentative, as she began searching through the contents.

"You weren't... none of you were too terribly mad at me, were you? About the dragon?"

Cullen's brows shot up in surprise at the question. "Mad? No. Not... not mad." Terrified, exasperated, maybe...

She paused outside the door to her tower and looked up through her lashes, her hand still rummaging in her bag, and gave him a quizzical look. "Not mad... but something else? Disappointed?"

"Never," he replied quickly. He fought back a blush at the unguarded reply and diverted the conversation by opening the door and gesturing her through. "My lady, please, if the draught should take effect before you get to your room... I don't want to find you asleep on the stairs in the morning."

"Hmmmm?" The questioning glance dissolved into a dismissive shake of her head, though she did begin walking again. "Oh, no, I'm sure it won't take effect that quickly. We're almost there, anyway."

She'd finished digging through the first bag, and unable to find what she was looking for, traded with him to start on the second. "I know it's in here somewhere... ahhh!"

Reaching deeply into the bag, she struggled a bit before pulling out a large and a smaller sack of something. Her tired eyes shone with delight in the torchlight, and her voice held an adorable undertone of excitement as she paused on a landing to raise up the bigger sack.

"I found this for you! It's the stronger headache medicine bark I was telling you about. I can't believe I found it this far south, but I gathered as much as I could while we were wandering about. I've also shown the scouts which trees they will need to harvest from so we can have more sent here to Skyhold. I'm going to try to make a draught for you with this-" She jostled the big sack before shoving it back in her bag. "But you can have this in the meantime."

She stepped forward to hand him the smaller pouch and stumbled a little, eyelids drooping. He quickly took the pouch, shoving it out of the way in his pocket to make sure he had a free hand should she need assistance.

"Oh, well... I suppose I should... get on up the stairs now..."

The dazed look in her eye worried him as she turned toward the final flight of stairs. Reaching out her hand as if to balance herself, she took a single step forward and then swayed dangerously. Cullen lunged forward, arm outstretched.

"My lady!"

She struggled to hold on to her bag, but the weight prove too much. It slipped from her fingers, landing on the floor with a thump as he caught her around the waist with his free arm. She leaned into him heavily, words slow and almost slurred, eyes barely open.

"I... I didn't think... it would take effect... so... so ... ... Ir... abelas... ma vhenan..."

And with that, she slumped against him, her head falling heavily onto his pauldron. He let her other bag fall from his grip and thud onto the landing with the first while his arms wrapped around her, holding her limp body against his protectively. Then, placing an arm under her legs, he easily lifted her lithe body.

Taking the remaining stairs slowly, Cullen savored the feel of her in his arms, of her head resting on his shoulder. It was the third time he'd carried her in this way, but this was the first time he'd felt as if she weren't in some kind of imminent danger. She'd returned from her journeys exhausted and needed sleep, but she'd come to no real harm in spite of his worries.

As he opened the last door and climbed the final set of stairs into the prepared, candle lit room, he had to give Josephine and Leliana credit. He'd only seen the bare bones of her quarters while they were still surveying the fortress, but now, soft and subtle yards of dark blue and purple curtains hung from the balcony windows and a giant rug covered most of the floor in its white-gray plushness. A matching bedspread and several blue and purple pillows decorated the enormous, four poster bed. Cheery flames licked at the fireplace, creating a warm, red-orange glow, and a tub full of water stood in the corner.

That would have to wait until morning.

He gently laid her down on the bed and hesitated. He should certainly take off her boots, but what about her armored coat? Starting with the easy option, he unlaced her boots and pulled them off. Then, sitting on the edge of her bed, he tried to work out the easiest way to remove the coat.

Taking off his gloves, he reached up to undo the clasps of her coat and then cursed himself as he watched his hands shake. And you can't even blame it on the withdrawal right now. He lightly worked the clasps open, touching her as little as possible.

"Now comes the hard part," he muttered under his breath.

She stirred at the sound of his voice. A small moan escaped her lips, and his heart stopped as she sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. They were glazed over but somehow still found him in the candlelight.

"Cullen... ma vhenan'ara."

Her voice wobbled with her medicated drowsiness, her words slurring slightly. Not that it made any difference. He didn't understand anything but his name. He repeated the phrase, which sounded similar to the one she'd uttered moments ago.

"Ma vhenan'ara."

She gave him a sloppy grin and reached for him, so he folded her hands into his and gazed at her while her eyes opened and closed lazily. The first part of the phrase she'd spoken in the hall had sounded a bit like an apology - both now as well as when he'd heard her say it in Haven. The second part eluded him, though it started with "ma," which he knew meant "my." Ma vhenan and ma vhenan'ara... Another type of endearment, maybe? Another way to say friend? He spoke the phrase back to her in hopes he'd sussed out the meaning well enough. He harbored no qualms about returning her term of endearment. Whatever it meant, he surely felt it a hundred times over.

"Ir abelas, ma vhenan. We have to get you out of your armor. I'm going to lift you up and take your arms out of the sleeves. OK?"

She nodded, and he slid his arm underneath her shoulders to help her sit up. Her head lolled to the side and then fell back. She'd passed out again.

After a bit of struggle involving him sitting on the bed and leaning her slumped, upright form against him, he managed to remove her arms from the sleeves then finally remove the armored coat. He stood, pulled the bedspread back as far as he could, then carefully lifted and deposited her under the covers.

As he leaned over the side of the bed and pulled the covers back up around her - before he could stop himself - he swept a hand across her forehead to push the long bangs away from her eyes. She slept peacefully even as his trembling fingertips lingered on her temple. Then, against his better judgment, he dragged those fingers down to the downy softness of her cheek, sucking in a shaky breath at the feelings evoked by the touch.

Dorian's words came back to him once again as he gazed at her. Did she care for him? Her actions and words seemed to indicate so, but was it just a close friendship to her... or could it be something more? The doubt crushed him. He knew what he felt for her, but what could he do about it? What should he do about it?

And if she did care, could he truly deny her for the sake of focusing on the war? For the sake of the Inquisition? For Thedas?

The answer to that, too, had changed from only a few weeks ago. Before, he would have claimed duty as an excuse to push her away, but now, he wavered. It became harder to breath as his fingers gently traced the line of her vallaslin. A golden picture of her appeared before him, eyes shining, lips parted in words of affection, words of love. He tried to imagine denying her, telling her he did not care. Every part of him rebelled until his vision ended with whispered confessions and lips touching, tasting for the first time. His heart swelled at the thought, and in that moment, he knew: If she cared for him, even a little, he would forsake almost anything to be with her, to be able to love her.

Just then, she nuzzled her cheek into his hand with a soft sigh, and he pulled back as if he'd been burned. Reality crashed through his dreamy haze to reproach him for his liberties. Friendly affection did not translate into love. He had no right to think of her - to touch her - in such a way.

Get out, you fool! You don't belong here.

Swallowing hard, he grabbed his gloves and quickly backed away from her. After retrieving her saddlebags from the stairs, he returned the bags to her room and extinguished the candles on the desk and mantle. He took one last look at her sleeping form before snuffing the bedside candle and then rushed back down the stairs to the cold semi-privacy of his own loft.

Yes. Go back where you belong - far away from the temptation of your impossible fantasy that a woman such as her could ever love a man like you.

#revelation of all things #revelations #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #cullen rutherford #poor cullen #insecurity and self worth issues #mages and templars #lyrium withdrawal #medicated mumbles #cullen wants to learn elven #troat

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lauraramargosian · 4 years

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COVID-19 depression pandemic, how to cope.

The COVID-19 depression pandemic, how to cope and beat this virus.

Under the circumstances of the COVID-19 pandemic, many have reached a level of sadness they have never felt before in their life.

With that in mind, the last couple of months have been dreadful for the world. Many have lost family to the virus. Most importantly and sadly, many are not allowed to say goodbye, or hold funeral services due to the limitations and self-distancing rules of each state.

Can you imagine, think of the person you love the most, imagine you couldn’t have a “proper,” goodbye and way to grieve, wouldn’t that feel awful?

In the hope that you feel alone, remember, we are feeling this with you.

We spoke to Bren who opened up about his internal depression since the hit of COVID-19.

“There’s no motivation, to do anything, the worst part about it is the fact, I don’t know feels like there is less meaning, you feel less fulfilled because you don’t feel like accomplishing as much or you don’t feel like.. Things blend together, you don’t have as many outside experiences, just becomes repetitive.”

Pandemic outbreaks can leave you anxious.

As a result of COVID-19, men, women, children, families, and friends could be feeling this in silence, so be aware to look for signs of depression and stress.

In fact, fear and anxiety are hitting the country, with zero discrimination.

What are some of the anxieties people are feeling (for those who feel fine)?

The fear and worry about your own health.

Being immunocompromised and anxiety create a perfect storm, it’s scary.

Sleeping more than usual, or a change in sleeping habits.

Those who are at high risk, face chronic health problems.

Worsening of anxiety and mental health.

Lack of productivity, and loss of interest in activities a person used to love.

Difficulty concentrating.

Fear of money and getting bills on time.

The coronavirus COVID-19 is affecting 209 countries and territories around the world and 2 international conveyances.

As a consequence, the world decided to collect everything they could, resulting in a lack of PPE and equipment to cope with the current 1,495,051 global cases, with 87,469 deaths.

Unfortunately, the United States of America now has 419,975 cases, with 14,262 total deaths. It’s a scary fact, and as mentioned, this virus does not discriminate.

Unfortunately, every death is a story, filled with pain. When a mother has to hold their 27-year-old child for the last time when husbands and wives pass away, it’s horrifying and children, those grieving are still likely in shock.

Channel your inner love and activism in the midst of COVID-19

So, are more tests needed in order to prevent more pain? According to the specialists, our new normal is, it’s not going to happen fast.

The Chief White House Jim Acosta opened up about the administration is considering opening up the country but top doctors are warning the U.S still has some tough days ahead.

Why are prevention and social distancing important?

Social distancing means you have to keep space between you and other people outside of your home.

Keep at the very minimum of 6 feet (2 meters) from other people. Gathering of groups is highly discouraged and fines could be instated. Avoid mass gatherings, yes this means church as well. Order from local fast-food restaurants to avoid contact at stores, it’s a great alternative. Most importantly, stay home, unless you are an essential worker.

Alright, it may feel really annoying to constantly be stuck in the house due to social distancing but as reported on CNN the lines are starting to curve, while we are about 2-weeks behind, it seems it will get worse before it gets better.

Especially because it was mentioned that COVID-19 has the ability to come back at a later time this year.

When it comes to those who are high-risk patients with underlying disease, it’s a nightmare.

Don’t forget, love yourself, shower, always get dressed every day, these routines will help your depression and creating a routine usually allows us to feel “fulfilled,” because humans have always loved to work, and to go out and celebrate birthdays and holidays.

“I feel absolutely depressed, turning 30-years-old today and suffering from Crohn’s disease is scary, especially during this pandemic. I’m a high-risk patient and controlling my symptoms without available specialty providers can be difficult. I mean, who wants to risk their provider’s health or their own? Truthfully, sometimes I lay at night and just hope I won’t wake up. But that’s just anxiety and depression kicking in, I know I’m not alone, yet feel alone because not many “healthy,” people understand the stress of being a high-risk potential future patient. Last, to me, it’s not about “if I get it,” it’s when I get it. In the hope that it comes when there is treatment or after an available vaccine.”

What’s trending on Reddit regarding COVID-19?

Reddit user DistractedScholar34 explained it in the easiest way to understand, sharing:

“Compared to the flu, COVID-19 is much more infectious and more deadly. The death rate for COVID-19 is about 3.4%, while the death rate for seasonal influenza is about 0.1%. The R0 value (The average number of people that each infected person spreads the disease to) of COVID-19 is 2-3.11, while the R0 value of the flu is 1.3. COVID-19 is deadly because it’s not deadly, which seems kind of counter-intuitive. SARS, for example, has a 15% death rate, which is about 5 times higher than COVID-19, but it only had a death toll of 774, whereas COVID-19’s death toll is 7,900 and counting. So, in the big picture, COVID-19 kills more people, because most of the people who get infected are still alive, with fairly mild symptoms, walking around, ready to infect more people, rather than dead, or crippled with symptoms so severe they are confined to a hospital bed. Stay safe. Stay home. Wash your hands. Don’t hoard supplies.”

Well, it was said perfectly, just a little bit of care and understanding how to properly prepare, and prevent.

The COVID-19 related depression is likely to continue, so it’s vital to check on your friends and family.

Most importantly, don’t argue and treat people with disrespect, people who have the virus may not be vocal about it, it can be that terrifying.

Knowing Symptoms of Coronavirus.

Reported illnesses have ranged from mild symptoms to severe illness and death for confirmed coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) cases.

These symptoms may appear 2-14 days after exposure (based on the incubation period of MERS-CoV viruses).

Fever

Cough

Shortness of breath

When to Seek Medical Attention

If you develop emergency warning signs for COVID-19 get medical attention immediately. Emergency warning signs include*:

Trouble breathing

Persistent pain or pressure in the chest

New confusion or inability to arouse

Bluish lips or face

*This list is not all-inclusive. Please consult your medical provider for any other symptoms that are severe or concerning.

The best action to beat COVID-19 related anxiety and depression.

Call your friends and family on video chat, play games on your tablets, exercise the mind with board games or coloring.

It’s okay to go into your back yard and get some sun (close your eyes and be present).

Play video games, connect with friends and force yourself to talk on a mic or go on video.

Talk to people about your concerns, just letting it out helps.

Cry if you need too, sometimes, we don’t why we feel like crying. Regardless of your gender, just let it out.

Last and most importantly, stay safe, stay positive, love yourself and under the circumstances, happy Passover, and any other holidays going on at this time.

It will be okay, check out the videos below, they were provided by Brendan Warkentin, who saw this on VOX, who has been studying this disease since the start, perfect way to watch its actions.

Blessed be.

How wildlife trade is linked to coronavirus

youtube

Coronavirus is not the flu. It’s worse.

youtube

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