Sgt. Ignacio “McNugget” Roja, pilot of the experimental Poultry Wing project had a record 32 successful test flights before fatally crashing on the moon. This image was drawn the morning of his last flight.
Shonda Rhimes logic:
It is completely unrealistic for a couple to actually be happy and for a marriage to actually last.
It is totally and completely realistic for a bombing, drowning, hospital shooting, two car crashes (one fatal), getting hit by a bus, stage 4 cancer, babies with OI and no brain, insane child birthing circumstances, electrocution, icicle stabbing, brutal beating, and not one But TWO plane crashes (or near plane crash…won’t know until Thursday) to happen to the same group of about 15ish people and for literally every single marriage they enter to result in divorce and/or premature death.
Footage of Walter Röhrl in his Audi Quattro S1 during the Group B Era, which many people see as the golden age of rallying. It started in 1982, but was disestablished just 4 years later after a series of fatalities, including a crash in 1986, where 3 spectators were killed and 33 injured.
This documentary tells the story of Joyce Carol Vincent, whose body was found in January 2006, decomposing in her bed in Wood Green, North London. She apparently died unnoticed in December 2003, surrounded by unopened Christmas presents with her TV still turned on. The film interviews various friends, acquaintances, and former partners to try to tell the story of Joyce.
2. The Cheshire Murders (2013)
This film studies the murder-robbery case that occurred on July 23, 2007. Jennifer Hawke-Petit and her two daughters were raped and murdered, while her husband, Dr. William Petit, was injured during a home invasion in Cheshire, Connecticut. This case was referred to as “possibly the most widely publicized crime in the state’s history.”
3. Child of Rage (1992)
The film is based on the true story of Beth Thomas, who suffered from severe behavioral problems as a result of being sexually abused as a child. Beth was adopted after it was found that she was being sexually abused by a family member. During her stay with the family, she tried to kill her brother several times and even attempted to sexually abuse him. The film was shot in Vancouver, British Columbia.
4. The Imposter (2012)
This documentary is about the 1997 case of the French confidence trickster Frédéric Bourdin, who impersonated Nicholas Barclay, a Texas boy who disappeared at the age of 13 in 1994. The film includes interviews with Bourdin and members of Barclay’s family, as well as actual television news footage
5. Cropsey (2009)
This film initially begins as an examination of "Cropsey”, a boogeyman-like figure from the New York urban legend, before segueing into the story of Andre Rand, a convicted child kidnapper from Staten Island.
6. The Bridge (2006)
This film covers the depressing truth about the Golden Gate Bridge, capturing a large number of suicides during the documentary.The film also features interviews with family and friends of some of the identified people who had thrown themselves from the bridge that year. The Golden Gate Bridge, which first opened in May 1937, was the most popular suicide site in the world during the documentary’s filming, with approximately 1,200 deaths by 2003
7. There’s Something Wrong With Aunt Diane (2011)
This documentary discusses the traffic collision that occurred on July 26, 2009, where eight people were killed when a minivan driven by 36-year-old Diane Schuler, after traveling 1.7 miles in the wrong direction on the parkway, collided head-on with an oncoming SUV. The deaths included Schuler, her daughter and three nieces, and the three passengers in the SUV. The crash was the worst fatal motor vehicle accident to occur in Westchester County, New York.
8. Capturing the Friedmans (2003)
This film focuses on the 1980s investigation of Arnold Friedman and his son Jesse for child molestation of several of their students. They held computer classes in their home where many children attended. During police interviews, some of the children that the Friedman’s taught reported experiencing bizarre sex games during their computer classes. Arnold Friedman committed suicide in prison in 1995, leaving a $250,000 life insurance benefit to his son. Jesse Friedman was released from New York’s Clinton Correctional Facility in 2001 after serving 13 years of his sentence.
9. Night & Fog (1955)
This documentary depicts the cruel reality of the Nazi Concentration camps. The film features footage from the liberation of camps in 1945 where malnourished humans are seen emerging out of the camps, voicing the life left in their lungs on to the camera.
10. Brothers Keeper (1992)
This documentary follows the case of Delbert Ward, an illiterate 59-year-old dairy farmer who was accused of murdering his brother Bill, in the bed that they shared for 50 years. The Ward brothers were four bachelors ranging between 59-71 and living in extreme poverty. One theory suggests that the slain brother, Bill, suffered the consequence of a sexual act gone wrong. What’s more disturbing is the fact that he was later acquitted of the crime after it was found out that the New York State Police coerced a confession out of him as he was illiterate.
On December 11, 2002, two motorists called police to report seeing a car veering off the road and crashing on the A3 near Burpham, Surrey. When the Police arrived at the scene to search for the wreckage they were unable to find any trace of a crash.
That was until an officer stumbled upon a maroon Vauxhall Astra nose down in a ditch, covered in undergrowth. There was one alarmingly irregular detail though, the car had not crashed recently. In fact it had laid undiscovered for five months, confirmed by the discovery of the decomposed body of the vehicles driver. It was suggested in the national press that the sighting of the car leaving the road just the night before could only have been a ghostly replay of the fatal crash earlier in the year.
What? Found this in a local Wilkos. It’s a half bionicle/half fake Lego sentient bike with machine guns. We can rebuild him, but better.
*edit* I’ve named him NO-Hatu. He was a regular matoran until one day he suffered a fatal crash on his motorbike. Seeing no other option. The Matoran worked with the toa to rebuild him. Unfortunately. The violent crash left his parts mixed in with the bike. In an attempt to rebuild him they had no other option but to combine his parts.
Also they attached Machine Guns. He is bigger, stronger, and faster now.
10. Trees can tell if deer are trying to eat them. Due to their ability to detect deer saliva, trees defend themselves by producing excess acids that cause their buds to taste bitter so that the deer will lose interest and leave them alone.
9. In 1983, a woman told British Rail authorities about a disturbing vision she had of a fatal train crash involving an engine with the number 47 216. Two years later, a train had a fatal accident, similar to one the woman described. The engine number, however, was 47 299. Later, someone noticed that the number had previously been changed by nervous British Rail officials. The original number: 47 216.
8. ‘Love,’ by Ukrainian sculptor Alexander Milov, features two wire-frame adults sitting back to back with their inner children reaching out to each other from within.
7. Mary Ellen Wilson - a little girl declared to be an animal to remove her from an abusive home because while animal cruelty laws had been passed, child abuse laws had not.
Haunted Places in Romania (according to Wikipedia)
Trivale Forest in Pitești - There is a legend about a maiden, daughter of a rich landowner, who loved a poor servant of her father. Her father found an old rich man for her to marry, but during the wedding day, she ran with the servant in the forest. Her father found them and killed her lover and then decapitated her. It is generally accepted that the two scary things about the forest are: the decapitated ghost of the bride and the people going into the forest to do satanic rituals.
Zarifopol Mansion in Filipești – Called by locals “the House of Evil”, the mansion is the site of several reports of paranormal activities: indistinct voices, bizarre sounds, steps, cold currents that “walk” through walls.
Bazilescu Park – Also known as Nicolae Bălcescu Park, Bazilescu Park is located in Bucureștii Noi neighborhood. Within the park is the Summer Theatre, built in 1953. During the night, in the area can be heard strident sounds and the cough of a man (whereof it is said that belongs to Bazilescu), coming from beyond the columns of the derelict theatre.
Central Girls School – Inside this historical building and its courtyard have been reports of strange sounds, cold breeze and fetid odors, but were also seen levitating objects, doors and windows that open and close without any human intervention.
Chiajna Monastery – This ruined monastery has its root somewhere in the 18th century, during the rule of Alexandru Ipsilanti. It was a big monastery, with thick walls, reason for that the Turks “confused” it and assaulted it. Moreover, some historical sources show that between its walls died of plague the Metropolitan of Wallachia, Cozma. The land and the building have never got to be sanctified. For these reasons it was abandoned, and the monastery’s bell was thrown in the Dâmbovița River, people blaming it cursed and leaving it in ruins.According to locals, the bell can still be heard ringing on full moon nights, many audio records proving this fact. Moreover, it is said that on one of the walls near the entrance can be glimpsed the face of a beautiful lady, which is said to be Ancuța, the daughter of Mrs. Chiajna, who would have been killed on the orders of her mother after she ran with her beloved without her mother’s approval. On top of that, in the area would have been several murders and numerous mysterious disappearances.
Cișmigiu Hotel – The building was closed in 1970 and reopened in 1990, when it was converted into hostel for students of the Faculty of Theatre and Film. Legend says that in a weekend, when all the students were away on vacation, a young woman from Moldova was raped and then thrown into the elevator shaft. She died there, after three hours she desperately cried for help, with no one to hear her. Many say that her screams can still be heard.
Hospital of the Posts – Previously housed in the building behind the Stavropoleos Church, Hospital of the Posts was a site of organ trafficking. It is said that, especially in long winter nights, can be heard on adjacent streets groans and cries of those who died in hospital beds.
“House of the Devil” on General Praporgescu Street – The house, which now looks degraded, is distinguished by the ivy that covers it entirely. It is the site of two tragic events: in the interwar period, a man would have killed here two women, and within a few years, a young woman would have committed suicide.Some say that on full moon nights on one of the walls of the house can be seen the number 666, symbol of the devil, and here would live a demonic entity full of hate and anger, that can be felt from afar.
Orphanage on the French Street – Legend says the house, located at number 13, is haunted by no less than 203 children’s spirits. In this orphanage were brought homeless children, even by its owner – Stavrache Hagi-Orman. He kept the kids in unimaginable conditions, without water and without food. After dozens of children died of starvation, the orphanage was closed. Locals reported voices of children crying “Water, we want water!”.
Vernescu House on the Victory Avenue – It is named by locals “Cellar of the Devil” (Romanian: Hruba lui Scaraoțchi). Here still operate a casino. It is said that in the past century, several players committed suicide inside the house after they lost the entire fortunes at roulette. Reports indicate three ghosts that haunt the house. They shake the furniture, cause air currents and sometimes even appear on the hallways of the building. Passers also reported strong odor of sulfur in the building’s yard.
Witches’ Pond – According to the legend, the pond located in Boldu-Crețeasca Forest, having a diameter of only 5 m, is the place where Vlad the Impaler was beheaded. It is said that after the 1977 earthquake many trucks unloaded debris in the pond, with the aim of stoppering it. Within weeks, the debris disappeared in its waters, although the pond has a depth of only one meter and a half. Locals say that many times when pregnant women didn’t want the child went to the pond, bathed and ridded the pregnancy. Even the animals would be scared of this place: there would be no frog or any being that lives in the pond, and the animals don’t drink water from there. The pond is famous for the gipsy witches that gather each year to Sânziene, St. George and St. Andrew to practice their magic rituals. Near this eye of water have been observed over time strange phenomena, like globular lightnings or storms started suddenly. The pond never change, doesn’t dry, doesn’t expand, whether it rains or is drought. In a video from mid-90s is shown a strange phenomenon: in midsummer, on an area of some square meters it snowed, immediately after a woman from the stunt team was terribly amused while trying to put a helmet on the head of a mannequin that portrayed Vlad the Impaler.
Călugăreasca Forest – It is a forest of mulberry trees, where it is said that the wind never blows. Here, people say that existed a monastery of monks, but they were killed by the Turks, and the place was made one with the earth by the pagans. The last monk killed by the Turkish army threw a curse upon them. So that, after death, the spirits of those who have defiled hands with the blood of the monks returned in thickets of Călugăreasca, from where they never found the way out.At the edge of the forest are also a lot of crosses, which legend says that stand sentry as the pagans’ spirits can not escape. People are reluctant to seek the thickets of Călugăreasca due to the curses, and the only safe place in the woods was the large white cross that reminds about the monastery and that protects those who pray next to it when the night catches them in the grove.
Bánffy Castle in Bonțida – Dubbed “the Versailles of Transylvania”, the castle is reportedly haunted by the ghost of a young servant who paid with his life because he revealed that his mistress deceived her husband. Another variant is that the place is haunted by the ghosts of those who died in Bánffy during the Second World War, when the castle was converted by Germans into a military hospital. Legend says that there were often seen sinister shadows that seemed to be of some soldiers, while through walls were heard strange noises, groans, sounds of footsteps or indistinct voices.
Hoia Forest – The forest near Cluj-Napoca has long been known for the mysterious events that take place here and was even cataloged as a gateway to another dimension. Dubbed “the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania”, the forest is one of the most active areas of the world in terms of paranormal phenomena. Legends would have occurred, it seems, after a shepherd disappeared into the forest along with his 200 sheep and no one managed to find neither he nor any part of the flock. It was only the first mysterious disappearance that took place in the forest. People who accidentally pass right through active areas report skin burns, redness, irritations, headaches, amplified sensation of thirst, anxiety, sensation of fainting. Hoia Forest became famous in the world after on 18 August 1968, military technician Emil Barnea photographed in the Round Glade (Romanian: Poiana Rotundă) an UFO, the photos being among the few of this kind genuine, according to experts. Numerous accounts of villagers reported unexplained physical sensations, observations of various shapes and colors lights, strange shadows, voices and human faces. The local vegetation is often bizarre. The trees have strange shapes, even human faces can be depicted from their trunks. In 2000, Alexandru Pătruț, President of the Romanian Society of Parapsychology, caught a strange phenomenon in the forest, around the Easter: a kind of sap flowed profusely from the top of the trees. Next day, everything was dry. He also reported strange sounds of ambulance sirens, tire exploding and even cuckoo clock. The forest was included in top 15 most haunted places in the world by the American magazine Travel+Leisure.
Tomis Nord neighbourhood from Constanța Supposedly, the neighbourhood is haunted by a woman who was decapitated by her husband who believed that he was cheated on.
Bride’s Trinity on DN7 – On national road DN7, near the town of Găești, there is a monument called Bride’s Trinity or Margareta’s Trinity. Here it is said that on 24 September 1936, Margareta Ștefănescu died in a car accident, even on her wedding day, and since then the place has become cursed. In the area have occurred a lot of fatal crashes, even if the road is straight and with maximum visibility. The road was “baptized” by locals “the Road of Crosses”. In the road tragedies are involved especially men. For example, only in 2008–09 in that place 12 young men died, mostly unmarried. Likewise, there were several reports of a silhouette of a woman dressed in white near the trinity.
Radovan Forest – Dozens of people, especially men, have drowned over time in Lake Fântânele of Radovan. Locals put numerous tragedies on account of the curse of a bride, who legend says that in the 1940s hanged herself in the forest surrounding the lake. Her story has two versions: one, according to that a young Moldovan woman arrived in Oltenia with her family, would have committed suicide after her husband was beaten to death on the night of the wedding; the second version says that she has committed suicide after, even before the wedding, would have been raped by a kulak that employed her. Locals say the bride haunts the road near the forest, and the passers are advised to move quickly and try to simply overlook any sound or appearance, otherwise the bride will lead them in the heart of the forest, from where they won’t ever return.
Bulzești commune Villagers talk about the “creatures by the hill”. A long time ago, the village was moved because of the strigoi. According to a villager:“The evil spirits haunt us at both day and night. Nobody dares to go up the hill because of the vampires. A neighbour has paralyzed many years ago when he bumped into one of the evil spirits. He couldn’t find his peace and does bad things to all those around him” The Romanian poet Marin Sorescu, born in the commune, mentioned the legend in his poem “Dumneata”: One night, here, by the fountains,| Where homes are rare, due to the ghosts |Who they say have showed around |And the people were strained to put houses there, for the ghosts to have their place.(…)
House of Gavril Buzatu on Manta Roșie – In this house from Iași lived Gavril Buzatu, “the last executioner of Moldova”. The house was the site of several killings and atrocities. It is reportedly haunted by strigoi about people think would be the thieves beheaded by Gavril Buzatu. During the night can be heard howls of beast or human, followed by roars of laughter. Here can be seen strange lights that “run” through the mansion, especially during the winter. A former tenant reported a black creature running through the nearby forest. Likewise, were seen flames lighting up suddenly in the abandoned salons.
Lungani Hill – It is said that the hill that separates the villages of Goești and Brăești is haunted by thousands of ghosts of soldiers from the World War I. Locals reported white lights, silhouettes of soldiers descending from the cemetery into the valley, at night, late after 12 o'clock. On the other side of the hill, in the commune of Lungani, peasants saw headless people who went on the road or even the devil in the body of child or cat.
E58 near Cicârlău – The area is known by drivers as one where many accidents happen. The accidents are attributed to a ghost which is said that comes out from the crops and scares the drivers. In the 1930s, a young woman named Pălăguța, envied by women for her beauty, was accused of witchcraft and beaten to death. Old people speak about a kind of animal with very long legs which haunted the village in Tuesday nights. It is said that appeared after midnight and went to houses where women violated the church rule. Women would have been hit in the temple and died or remained paralyzed.
Iulia Hasdeu Castle in Câmpina – Bizarre by its architecture, Iulia Hasdeu Castle was built by writer Bogdan Petriceicu Hasdeu in the memory of Iulia Hasdeu, his daughter, who died at age 19. It is said that the castle was built in accordance with the indications received during some seances, from his dead daughter. Locals say that during the night, Iulia Hasdeu can be heard playing the piano, in father’s applause.
How self (?) destructive can jimin get when the people he cares about get hurt... Please spare me friend he's my fave
“you couldn’t have known.”
hani looked sympathetic for once as she said this, deep furrow between her brows. jimin avoided her gaze, flicking the disposable phone in his hand.
hani continued, “wasn’t your fault, g.”
one of their newest recruits had fucked up at his very first job, and while trying to get away from the cops the kid had gotten run over. there was no saving him, not now; jimin has been in enough accidents to know when it was fatal, and an emergency trip to the e.r. wasn’t going to change anything. the guy would be dead by morning even with medical attention.
jimin sighs. “i should’ve called v ‘nyway. had ‘im survey the area ’t least. fuck.”
“it was supposed to be a simple job, g,” hani said, crossing her arms over her chest. she had a wretch in her hand, and knowing that it was her weapon of choice should have made jimin feel a little bit less at ease with the way she was looking at him. “don’t blame yourself for a rookie’s mistake. you gotta stop getting so damn attached.”
jimin pursed his lips. “bitch. i can’ help it.”
hani snorted. “i know. it’s infuriating. one day i’m gonna pass, too, and then where will you stand?”
“fuck off. ’s it that wrong of me not wantin’ my friends ‘n allies to die?”
“nah. of course not, g.” hani smiled, and it looked just a little sad. “the police brought the kid to the hospital. it’s not going to help, the crash was fatal, but it’s better than having him pass in your ratty office, right?”
i guess. jimin grimaced. “’m gonna go som'where. take a drive.” he looked briefly at hani. “if sugar stops by, tell ‘im to jus’ - take a nap, or somethin’. rest. don’ need 'is services today.”
hani pulled a face of clear discontent, but she didn’t say anything against jimin’s orders. “whatever you say, g. i’ll order some food for him.”
jimin merely sent her his most charming smile as he strolled out of the garage, knowing that he needed to forget the events of today, and not even pretty, pretty yoongi could help him in this situation. he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight with the thought of that dead kid, the kid he was responsible for. he’d told himself he wouldn’t get like this again, he couldn’t be this affected my people dying in this business when he’d had no problems taking other people’s lives before. jimin thought he was used to it, but the boy had been young and reminded him too much of someone; someone else he had let slip.
he didn’t really think much as he pulled his bike out of the garage and sped onto the highway. jimin knew where he was going, the route there familiar despite not visiting for almost two whole years; the path to the warehouse basement still looked the same as always.
a sign reading 'happy place’ blinked ominously over the door, a familiar figure illuminated by the harsh light.
“well, well.” hoseok’s grin was menacing, and as usual it didn’t really reach his eyes. he hadn’t changed much these past years, except his hair was orange, and jimin supposed a few lines had been added to his tattoo. “look who’s here. could hear your bike from miles away, g.”
“yeah, yeah,” jimin huffed. “you have fights today, right? put me in.”
“woah, moving fast there, g,” hoseok grinned, eyes twinkling with interest, “you said you were done fighting. made sure to beat me up real good before leaving, too, just to make a point. why should i make room for you?”
jimin snorted and rolled his eyes. “'cause there’s no'ne better than me, hobi.”
jimin could practically see the dollar signs in hoseok’s wild eyes. “of course,” he uttered, voice excited and high pitched. “no one better than you, g.”
“… but this is a one time thing, hoseok.”
hoseok smiled, as if he knew something jimin didn’t. “of course, jimin. of course.”
Microbursts are very seldom talked about, despite the fact that they pack all the punch of a tornado and have been known to push passenger jets right out of the sky, causing several fatal crashes over the years. A microburst is a sudden and very powerful downdraft of wind, and they are highly localised. They are commonly found in thunderstorms and involve a powerful downdraft of wind being pushed against the ground and then bursting out in all directions, creating sudden and powerful gales that can reach speeds of 150mph.
As seen in the video, the storm goes from what looks like an average storm to what could easily be mistaken for a large tornado, all in a matter of seconds. Perhaps the most unnerving part is at 0:28, where the microburst can clearly be seen advancing towards the cameraman, before easily ripping a large tree in half.
First of all, develop characters that readers can relate to/sympathize with and that readers won’t hate the guts of. I’m not going to care if Elizabeth’s whole family was murdered if she was a pretentious brat. I don’t care that Henry was cured of cancer if he’s an annoying jerk. Obviously, writers don’t try to do this unless the character is supposed to be loathed, but it sometimes happens anways. Take Bella from Twilight. Most people agree that she was pathetic, immature, selfish, etc. It’s just hard to like her. You can’t even really enjoy hating her because you know the author wants you to like her.
The character doesn’t even have to ‘good’ in the traditional way. Take Heath Ledger’s Joker. He was evil, of course, but there were times we pitied him, perhaps even rooted for him. He’s an example of the bad guy we love to hate and hate to love.
Okay, so now you’ve got a well-written characters that readers don’t shudder in dismay at whenever they pop into a scene because they’re so irritating. Next, you want to kill off their best friend for plot reasons and make it really sad. If we care about both characters and the writing is decent, we will be saddened but we might not be hitting that tears-filling-eyes level. You have to add another emotional layer. For example, the best friend was actually driving to the character’s house to make up after a fight, and then there was a fatal car crash. The best friend was strangled with their friendship necklace, the one the character had stopped wearing ages ago. Blood dripped down the best friend’s nails; they were going to get them done together next week.
Adding this additional depth gives you more reason to care about what’s happening. SPOILER ALERT Here’s an example from The Hunger Games: Rue dying was immensely sad because we’d established a liking of her and we were touched by her and Katniss’s relationship. This demonstrates the first thing I mentioned about writing characters. What added another layer of emotion was when Katniss sang to Rue and then put flowers around her. It’s the extra stab in out heart that really got the tears flowing. Spoilers over
Another important factor in invoking emotion is showing instead of telling. Which example below makes you feel the girl’s joy?
1. She was happy that he had bought her flowers.
2. She inhaled the heavenly aroma of the flowers, letting the sweet scent raise her spirits. The roses were wondeful shades of violets and lavenders. He’d remembered, even after all of this time, that her favorite color was purple. Delicately setting the bouquet of flowers on the table, she threw herself at him, nestling her face into the crook of his neck and he wrapped both arms around her.
Do you see? Not only is the second example rich in details, it gives us how she showed her happiness. Did you see what I also snuck in? The statement about the purple roses = another layer of emotional depth.
Another important thing to consider when conveying emotion is word choice. Read the two examples below.
1. He cried, sounding as if he was in pain.
2. He sobbed hysterically, wailing and groaning like a desperate animal.
Which paints a better mental image? Again, the second one wins. The word choice is stronger and less broad. It gives us more to envision, and it makes us feel even worse for the character.
Miles wears a green bracelet that says “Buckle up for Bo” in honor of a friend who died in a car crash a year after Miles himself was in a near-fatal car crash. He wears it almost all the time, and has worn it for most of the movies he’s been in, except where it doesn’t work for the movie.
A/N: Guess whose back back back Back again gain gain Guess whose back guess whose back. I’m back!!! Sorry this took so long really. I hope you enjoy this new series that I’m creating and please anticipate for more!
The probability of having a fatal car crash in the state of New York is 1/8,860, which gives any average person more than wiggle room to prevent themselves from such actions. However, not all the time is fate on the person’s side, as Jungkook can clearly point out.
A thriving career, supportive girlfriend, a multitude of talents; all put on the line with one night in the big city.
All he wanted to do was sleep. The past four days had been hell, starting with the splitting headache he’d woken up with and the connecting flight cancellation due to terrible weather plagued across Canada. Being from Russia, Yurio was used to the snow, but being snowed in at an airport for a day and a half before Viktor gave up, declaring he was just going to drive the 8 hours to Toronto, hadn’t really been the highlight of his competition. Not to mention Viktor wasn’t the best driver. When they finally reached Toronto, a day later than expected, Yurio had gone against Viktor’s wishes and forced himself to the rink to make-up for lost time. It wasn’t until Yuuri had forcibly hauled him from the ice that Yurio finally decided it was time to rest. But even with his full 6 hours, all he really wanted to do, was sleep… And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he really didn’t feel that great either. He started feeling off once they touched down in Canada, but with the competition, there was no way he was going to mention that to Yuuri or Viktor. He didn’t want to do or say anything that would prevent him from skating. Besides he’d already downed about 4 aspirin before they left for the rink this morning; he was just hoping it would freaking kick in. Yurio bit his bottom lip and folded his arms over the railing, watching JJ skate. His stomach turned violently and he bit back a groan, closing his eyes briefly to block out the light. He was next to skate, and with Viktor and Yuuri standing basically on top of him, there was no way in hell he would be able to relieve the nausea, or choke down some more Tylenol, without them knowing. He clinched his fists, breathing slowly, and waited for his stomach to calm down. He heard cheering and the announcer saying something about how magnificent JJ’s performance was. Pathetic. He felt someone nudge him gently and opened his eyes slowly, turning to face Yuuri. The Japanese skater was watching him closely, worry and concern already etched onto his face. Freaking great. Yurio turned back to face the ice, waiting for JJ to step out of the rink. He looked up in the stands scanning the sea of faces, hoping, that by some miracle, he’d see his grandfather sitting in the crowd. He won’t be here stupid. He’ll never be. Because you fucked up. Yurio grit his teeth, shook off Katsudon’s hand, and pushed away from the railing, making his way towards the ice. He felt the world sway for a second as his head protested at the sudden movement, and slammed into Viktor’s chest awkwardly. “Easy Yurio,” Viktor laughed gently, grabbing the teenager’s arm and standing him upright. He glanced down at Yurio, his face clouding with concern before glimpsing quickly at Yuuri who stood a few feet away. Yuuri shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms, coming closer to where the two skaters stood. He looked over at Yurio once more, taking in the kid’s pale face, tinted cheeks and sluggish movements. Yuuri bit his lip, hoping the kid would admit to being sick, or at least, stop trying to hide it. It had taken him and Viktor a while to figure it out, but it wasn’t until Viktor had to rip the sheets away from the teenager this morning, that they began to piece things together. Yurio was normally an early riser, (Yuuri and Viktor have gone into their kitchen several times early in the morning, finding the teenager eating a bowl of cereal, or texting on his phone on the couch), and the fact that he protested the idea of leaving his bed this morning, was worrying in its self. Yurio tried pushing away, smacking Viktor in the chest as JJ’s score was called again over the arena. “Yurochka, you feel okay?” Viktor asked gently, reaching down to touch teenager’s forehead. Yurio smacked Viktor’s hand away and pushed away from Viktor harshly, only to fall against Yuuri. “Don’t touch me old man,” Yurio spat bitterly, glaring at Viktor. He was shaking by now, and he wiped his running nose with his sleeve. Why was it so damn hot in here? Hurt flashed over Viktor’s face for a second before he shook his head, a soft smile returning to his face. Why are you always smiling? It’s creepy, Yurio thought, taking his skate guards off, his hand pressed against Yuuri’s shoulder to steady himself. He turned and handed them to Yuuri, noticing for the umpteenth time that the Japanese skater was still studying him intently. “Stop fucking looking at me, you pig!” Yurio yelled, crossing his arms. He had enough on his mind, enough to worry about, and having Katsudon and the Geezer watching him like a hawk, was not helping. He cleared his throat, stifling the cough trying to escape his lips, and sniffed softly, hoping he could hold off any sneezing until after the program. Yuuri gave him a gentle smile, “Yura, you sure you-” Yuuri started, reaching for the teen’s arm once more. Yurio’s name was called over the loud speaker and he winced slightly. God his head hurt. “Ah! Fuck off Katsudon!” Yurio yelled, pushing Yuuri away from him harshly. He didn’t need this right now. He needed to get to the ice, it was his turn. The faster he got his performance over with, the faster he could go back to the hotel and sleep. And he really wanted to sleep. His head was killing him and his stomach was making him regret the protein bar he had forced himself to eat so Viktor would stop asking him questions. He stifled a cough and skated toward the center of the ice. He shivered slightly. He really didn’t need this right now. He was sick and tired of Viktor and that piglet trying to treat him like a baby. He wasn’t a baby, he was almost an adult; he was 16, almost 17; he was the Russian Punk for crying out loud! And the Russian Punk didn’t show weakness. Sure he felt like shit but there was no way in hell he was going to admit that to those two. He shuddered at the thought of them being all lovey-dovey with each other. It wasn’t their job to take care of him. It was his Grandpa’s, and he had left him. NO! Don’t think about that right now! What is wrong with you! Concentrate! Yuri! Concentrate. He let out a loud sigh and closed his eyes waiting for the music to start. He could hear Viktor yelling encouraging words from the sidelines and felt his stomach flip. Viktor and Yuuri were making him sick, with all their p.d.a. and their lovey-dovey bullshit. He would rather have his Grandpa here than those two. But he wasn’t going to come, he would never come… not anymore. Yurio inhaled sharply, feeling tears well in his eyes and bit the inside of his lip. He wasn’t going to cry. The Russian Punk didn’t cry… ever. He slowed his breathing and coughed again, calming himself down. You must have a fever dumbass, that’s why you’re shaking, that’s why you keep thinking about Grandpa! He let out another sigh, and cleared his throat. He could feel sweat beginning to coat his body and shivered again despite the heat running off him. His headache was beginning to spread down his neck and he wondered if this was a good idea. He pushed this thought aside and opened his eyes. Then the music started. … Fuck. This was the first thought that crossed Yurio’s mind as he finished his performance. Sweat was dripping down his face now, and despite his performance, he was still cold. He sneezed loudly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and took a gentle bow. His stomach twisted again and he swallowed thickly, feeling his body growing numb. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He needed to get off the ice, he needed get his skates off, and he needed to get away from the overly affectionate lovebirds, before he puked. He coughed, instantly regretting this decision as bile rose in his throat. He swallowed again and felt his stomach churn angrily. He needed to get to a bathroom. Now. He clenched his fists, feeling his hands shaking and his face heating up. He skated to the edge of the ice quickly and roughly pushed past Viktor’s passionately emotional praises and Yuuri’s concerned looks. “Hey Yurio!” Yuuri call after him but the teenager didn’t bother turning around. Yuuri wasn’t his concern right now. They probably thought he was being a dick to them anyway… like always. But he didn’t care. He felt his body shaking and pushed past the journalists, fans, and paparazzi trying to bombard him with questions. He didn’t bother responding, he was too scared to anyway. He stifled another cough as his stomach lurched. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last much longer. It wasn’t until his feet touched the tiled floor in the hallway, and he crashed to the ground, that he realized his fatal mistake. He forgot to take his skates off, or, at least, forgot to put his skate guards on. He tried his best to catch himself against the wall but his head reeled and his feet scraped across the foreign ground. He groaned, putting his hand to his mouth hoping he would have a chance. His stomach lurched again and the acidic taste of vomit filled his mouth. He felt the warm liquid coat his hands even before he hit the ground. He crashed to his hands and knees in a chaotic mess as his stomach continued to lurch and Yurio found himself puking up another round of acidic bile. He felt a gentle hand on the back of his neck, and turned slightly to see Yuuri squatting next to him. “Oh Yura,” Yuuri said softly, running his hands over the boy’s back, hoping to provide a small amount of comfort. Tears streamed down Yurio’s face as he continued to retch. He sniffed loudly, hoping it was less obvious to the people surrounding him that the Russian Punk was crying. He wished he could wipe them away but his hands were too busy holding up his trembling body. He wished he could stop the tears from flowing down his face, he wished he could stop his stomach from rebelling against him, and he wished his headache would lighten up, but his whole body seemed to be fighting against him today. He wished his Grandpa was here. Yurio coughed again as another bout of vomit forced its way up his throat. He closed his eyes, concentrating on Yuuri’s hand on his back and the comforting words he was whispering to him. He hated this. He hated how bad he felt. He hated being sick. He hated how much he yearned for Yuuri’s comfort. He hated how much he wanted Yuuri to make it better. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay honey. Just get it up. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay,” Yuuri said softly, tucking a loose strand of Yurio’s hair behind his ear. He smiled slightly, thankful the teenager’s hair was still slightly tied up from his performance. Yuuri shifted closer again; he was doing his best to shield the puking teenager from the ongoing paparazzi a few feet away. Yurio pitched forward once more, expelling more stomach acid onto the ugly tiled floor. “Shh, Yurio, you’re okay. It’s okay baby, just relax. It’s alright. Just breathe.” Yuuri whispered again. He could feel the heat rolling off the younger skater, causing his worry to spike higher. The kid definitely had a fever, that much Yuuri could tell. He’d never seen Yurio so sick. I mean yeah, he’d seen the boy throw up before, but he’d never seen him like this. He could hear Viktor talking loudly behind him, trying his best to distract the paparazzi towards him instead of Yurio, but Yuuri could still see the flashing of camera’s bouncing off the wall in front of him. Yurio groaned loudly, clenching his eyes shut, and Yuuri shrugged his jacket off gently and wrapped it around the teenager’s shaking frame. He pulled the kid to his feet, wrapping his arm around his waist as Yurio began to collapse into him. He pulled Yurio as close to him as he could, letting him rest his head against his shoulder, hoping it would shield him more from the vicious crowd. Yuuri tried his best to go slow but he just wanted Yurio to be out of the paparazzi’s grasp. He felt the kid stumble, and tightened his grip. “Katsu- Y-Yuuri,” Yurio choked out softly. He gulped quickly as his body pitched forward again, spewing vomit down Yuuri’s shirt. Yuuri inhaled sharply and stopped, clutching Yurio’s waist and shoulder’s tightly, hoping to keep the kid upright. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m not mad. It’s okay.” he said gently. Yurio dropped his head against Yuuri’s shoulder again, groaning. His body felt like it was moving slowly, but his head was spinning. He just wanted to lie down. Yuuri could feel the warm liquid soaking into his shirt and shuddered. He had been sick several thousand times before, so getting puked on wasn’t a big deal to him, but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. He could still hear Viktor talking to the crazed horde behind him and turned around to see his shadow outlined behind the door. Yuuri turned back around and scanned the open corridor for the nearest bathroom. After what seemed like an eternity, he found the locker room at the very end of the hall. He helped Yurio sit down on one of the benches and knelt down to undo the boy’s skates. Yurio smacked his head against Yuuri’s shoulder, and groaned loudly, crossing his arms over his stomach. He really wanted to sleep. “I didn’t know someone so small could puke so much,” Yuuri joked as he continued to unknot the teenager’s skates. Yurio groaned again and Yuuri bit his bottom lip, anxiety and worry plastered to his face. If Yurio wasn’t willing to force a sarcastic comeback or yell at him, then this was bad. Yuuri slid Yurio’s skates off and reached up to stop his glasses from falling off his nose. He put his hand on the teenager’s shivering back, “Yurio, hey, how do you feel now?” he asked quietly. Yurio swallowed and mumbled something incoherent into Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri ran his hand over the boy’s shoulder blades, and stood up gently. Yurio kept his head down. He didn’t want to look Yuuri in the eyes. He couldn’t look Yuuri in the eyes. He wanted his Grandpa. His stomach clenched, and his mouth began to fill with saliva and watery stomach acid. He crossed his arms tighter around his stomach. Yuuri ran his hand through the teenager’s sweaty hair, the two braids no longer present in his blonde locks, “let’s get you cleaned up some huh? Then we’ll get you back to the hotel.” He said gently. Yurio shook his head letting out a wet cough, “Y-Yuuri-” he panted. His breathing hitched and he leaned forward, clenching his mouth shut. Yuuri quickly grabbed the kid’s arm forcing him to his feet, leading him towards a bathroom stall. Once inside Yurio dropped to his knees, hard. He hung his head over the small bowl and began choking up whatever was trying to tear his body apart. His body lurched violently and vomit spewed past his dried lips, rubbing harshly against his already raw throat. His stomach lurched again and again until he was sure he was going to start throwing up organs. Yuuri sat next to him, trying to offer comfort to the sick kid by rubbing small circles in his back and whispering comforting words. Yurio’s back was slick with sweat; his face was the color of the white tile beneath him, and his body shivered harshly. He whimpered loudly, sucking in a ragged breath, trying his best to will his stomach to stop. He felt tears pricking at his eyes again and he closed them, hoping to stop them from leaving. He really wanted his Grandpa. Yuuri heard the locker room door open and turned to see Viktor leaning against the stall door, a sympathetic look masking his face. Yurio coughed again, sucking in air harshly as another thin stream of vomit escaped his mouth. He moaned again, swallowing loudly, and tried his best to slow his breathing. Yuuri turned back towards the boy, running his hand over the kid’s sweaty back once more. Viktor removed his gloves, sticking them in his pocket and grabbed some paper towels from the canister on the wall. He walked back over to the heaving boy and slid down gently next to Yuuri. Yurio heard the toilet flush as he leaned back against the wall, shakily. He was so tired. So fucking tired. His throat hurt like hell, and his stomach, thankfully no longer nauseous, burned. He sneezed loudly and groaned as someone pressed their hand to his forehead. He opened his eyes to a spinning room, and blinked a few times trying to clear his vision. The harsh lights burned his eyes. He really really wanted to sleep. Viktor was now kneeling in front of the teenager, his hand pressed against his burning forehead, his other touching Yuuri’s. A frown was plastered to his face and he pressed his lips together firmly. He dropped his hand from Yuuri’s forehead and turned to give him a worried expression. Yuuri asked him something in Japanese, and Viktor nodded. He gently moved his hand from Yurio’s forehead to his cheek, “You have a fever Yura,” He whispered sadly. Yurio shrugged, feeling his throat tighten and tears swelling in his eyes. For the millionth time tonight, he wanted his Grandpa. He didn’t want to be crammed into a tiny bathroom in a foreign place, in a foreign country, with these two. He didn’t want Yuuri and Viktor to be the ones who had to take care of him. It wasn’t their job. He didn’t want this to be happening. He didn’t want to be here. Don’t be weak. Don’t be weak. The Russian Punk isn’t weak. Don’t cry. Grandpa would tell you not to cry. He swallowed harshly and wiped his nose again as Yuuri handed him some crumpled paper towels. He wiped his chin harshly and threw the paper in the trash next to the toilet. He slammed back against the wall behind him as tears began to slide down his face. He tried to say something sarcastic but all that came out was a half-choked sob. He clenched his teeth as Viktor looked down at him again, confusion etching across his face, “Why the tears Yurio?” Yurio shook his head slowly before bursting into tears, “I’m-I’m sorry.” He wiped roughly the tears that streamed down his cheeks. You made them worry, you stupid kid. Now Katusdon won’t sleep, and Viktor will call you a softy because you’re weak. Yakov would be disappointed with you. You’re supposed to be strong like a soldier. It’s not their job to look after you. You should be able to look after yourself. You should’ve been able to look after Grandpa! If he was here, he’d know what to do to make you feel better. He should be here…. Not these two! Panic painted Yuuri’s face as he continued to wipe off the boy’s costume, he shifted slightly giving Viktor an alarmed look. Yurio never cries, ever. He turned back to face the boy, “Shh, Yurio, it’s okay. It’s going to be alright.” Yurio gulped loudly letting out another rough cough and Viktor winced slightly because his cough sounded bad. Viktor ran a hand through Yurio’s sweaty hair and took some of the paper towels from Yuuri, who was desperately trying to calm the sobbing teenager. “Why are you sorry koneko?” He asked softly, wiping Yurio’s hands with one of the towels. Yuuri got up carefully, walking over to the sink and grabbed a few more towels before running them under the water. Yurio wiped again at the tears that fell from his eyes, wincing as his head throbbed under the florescent lights. He felt something wet touch his forehead and flinched, realizing Yuuri was crouched next to him now, his hand pressing a wet paper towel to his overheated forehead. He ran his thumb across Yurio’s cheek, wiping some of the tears that streamed down his pale face. “Why are you sorry?” He asked gently. Yurio let out another sniff, trying to calm down, “I’m sorry I ruined your shirt, and threw up… I’m sorry I’m making you worry more and that you have to look after me. And I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” He coughed again as Yuuri motioned for Viktor to hold the towel against the teenager’s forehead, “And- and I’m sorry I embarrassed you, and that I’m all nasty and sweaty, and that I’m crying… I just- I don’t want to look weak because you’re aren’t weak and I’m not a baby. And I really, I don’t feel well, and I want my Grandpa…” Yurio trailed off, his English cutting into Russian. Yuuri’s heart broke at the last statement, and he stopped himself from pulling the boy into a hug. He looked over at Viktor, who looked downright alarmed as he tried his best soothe the teenager by talking to him in Russian. Yuuri ran his hand through the Yurio’s hair once more and got up gently, walking over to his bag laying across the locker room bench. He started rummaging through it, hoping to find a water bottle, and looked up as the locker room door swung open, and Christophe stepped through. Christophe stood there, staring at Yuuri for a brief second before turning his attention towards the two Russians sitting on the floor in the stall. A smirk crossed his face slowly as he turned back towards Yuuri, “What, the poor tike tired already?” “Get out,” Yuuri growled, hearing Viktor still talking to Yurio behind him. Christophe looked taken back for a second before he nodded, “Fine, I was just coming in here to change anyway.” Yuuri adjusted his glasses and pushed the bag aside as Christophe turned to leave. “Wait,” he cleared his throat, “do you have any water?” Christophe eyed him again before walking over to a locker and pulling out a bottle of water, handing it to Yuuri. “Here,” he said softly. Yuuri thanked him and turned around before he felt someone touch his arm. “Yuuri, I was joking earlier. I didn’t mean any harm.” Christophe whispered. Yuuri nodded, “I know.”
Yuuri crouched once more besides Yurio, handing the teenager the bottle of water and letting him take a few sips before screwing the cap back on. Yurio was quiet now except for the soft sniffing and silent tears that fell from his eyes softly. Viktor sighed as Yuuri leaned back against the opposite wall from Yurio, his hand brushing against Yuuri’s. Yurio swallowed, leaning his head against the wall, wishing he could fall asleep. His headache, which had started behind his eyes had now moved, embedding itself into his jaw bone, painting across his cheeks. Yuuri leaned forward slightly, “I’m really sorry you don’t feel well Yura,” he said softly, taking the water from the teenager, “and believe me, if there was something I could do to take it away, or switch places with you, then I would in a heartbeat.” He looked at Viktor, smiling slightly, before turning back to face Yurio, “but you don’t need to apologize.” Yurio coughed again, wiping his nose on Yuuri’s jacket, and looking at Viktor. Viktor laughed gently, “Honestly Yurio, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve embarrassed myself in front of the paparazzi.” Yuuri brushed some hair from the kid’s face gently, “And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve puked in front of them.” Viktor shook his head, his silver hair covering his face momentarily, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, it happens. You should never have to apologize for being sick. We’re not mad… I am sorry though, I don’t think I got to all of the cameras in time, so I do apologize if you show up in some tabloid,” He paused, pulling Yuuri’s jacket further on Yurio’s shoulder as the teenager shivered, “But Yurio, Yuuri and I, we’re not mad or embarrassed.” Yuuri laughed softly, “I’m not mad about my shirt either Yura. It’s a shirt, and if I’m being completely honest, I don’t even like it-“ Viktor scoffed dramatically, throwing his short hair behind his shoulder and putting his hand to his mouth, “I gave you that shirt as a birthday gift!” Yurio blinked a few times, looking over at Yuuri, who sat there looking completely mortified. Yuuri gulped loudly, “I-I- Vitya-” Viktor burst out laughing, “I’m only joking love, I have no idea where you bought that awful shirt.” Yuuri shook his head as Yurio snorted before breaking out in a coughing fit. He felt a hand on his shoulder and leaned his head back against the wall and wiping his nose with some of the paper towels Yuuri handed to him. The locker room was quite for a few minutes. Outside the crowd was yelling something, and the announcer’s voice boomed through the arena. “Yurochka listen,” Viktor began, putting his hand under the teenager’s chin gently, forcing him to look at him, “There is nothing more on this earth that I wish for more than to be able to bring your Grandfather back. I’m so sorry I can’t. I truly am,” Viktor sighed softly, wiping some tears that still fell from Yurio’s eyes with his thumb, “…But after he- When Yuuri and I agreed to let you stay with us, for as long as you wanted to, we agreed knowing full well what we were getting into. Trust us koneko, we agreed to take care of you, to be there for the good and the bad of Yuri Plisetsky, whether that be wins, birthdays, breaks, or illnesses, because we care about you. You’re our family now and we love you all the same Yura, no matter what. Nothing you do, or say could possibly change that…” Viktor was quiet for a second, “…But don’t you ever think that we view you as weak, because you, Yuri Plisetsky, are anything but. You are so much stronger than any of these other skaters out here, and a few tears aren’t going to take that away from you.” “And honestly Yurio, you’re worth more to us than some ugly shirt that Viktor gave to me on Valentine’s Day,” Yuuri said softly, shaking the water in front of the groggy teenager willing him to take a drink. “It was your birthday, love.” Yuuri rolled his eyes as Yurio took a slow sip, “Yura, I’m not embarrassed by you being so sick, or puking in front of people, or on me, for that matter; and I’m always worried. That’s just who I am. I lay awake at night worrying about the amount of orange juice we have in the fridge. You can’t change that, trust me, Viktor has tried.” Viktor nodded gently, wiping the remaining tears from Yurio’s cheeks with the edge of his jacket. Yurio sneezed again and cleared his throat. He closed his eyes, setting the water down on the floor next to him, crossing his arms over his stomach. He was still freezing but he could feel sweat dripping down his face. Yuuri sighed before laughing softly, “And I know you didn’t tell us because you wanted to skate, but Viktor and I, we would have figured something out. We’re not as bad as you might think. I am truly sorry you feel so lousy, and we want to make you feel better. We want to help, but you have to let us Yurio. You have to tell us if you feel this bad.” Viktor nodded again, and Yurio heard him sigh softly, “but if it’s any consolation, you were amazing out there today.” Yuuri laughed again, running his fingers through Yurio’s hair, “You did an incredible job, especially being this sick.” Yurio opened his eyes slightly as Viktor stood up, pulling Yuuri to his feet gently. “Now, how about I go grab our stuff from the arena, and Yuuri helps you to the car? Hmmm? Then we can go back to the hotel, and we can all get some much needed rest? Does that sound okay?” Yurio nodded softly pressing his palms to his eyes, trying to wipe away the remaining moisture. His arms felt heavy and he found moving them to be a difficult task in its own. He shivered again, letting out a small cough. He felt someone slip something warm over him and looked down to see Viktor’s jacket around his shoulders. He pushed his arms through slowly, and pulled it close, thankful for the extra warmth. He blinked a couple times trying to clear his vision, and felt Yuuri pulling him to his feet. His vision faded for a second as his knees buckled and his stomach clenched. He groaned softly as Yuuri put his arm around his shoulder, leading him towards the door and out into the wintery hell. Yurio shivered again as snow brushed against his face and he leaned heavily against the Japanese skater. “You’re doing great kid,” Yuuri said gently, pulling Yurio closer, shivering slightly as the cold air touched his skin. The walk to the car was painful to say the least. The snow was beginning to come down harder than it had this morning, and Yuuri was thankful the hotel was only an hour away. He sighed softly, feeling the teenager shiver again despite the heat that soaked through his clothes. He bit his lip as the question of stopping at a drug store crossed his mind. They hadn’t really brought any medication with them except some Aspirin, and a few Ibuprofen, and they definitely didn’t have anything for fevers. He turned to look over his shoulder to see Viktor a few feet behind him, talking with someone who looked like a reporter. Yuuri rolled his eyes and walked over to the car. He helped Yurio into the back seat before climbing in gently. He felt squished in the tiny backseat but he figured it would be better to be back here incase Yurio puked again, especially since this was a rental. He reached over, putting the keys in the ignition and starting the car before leaning back against the seat. Yurio scooted closer to him, mumbling something in Russian that Yuuri didn’t catch, before laying his head in the older skater’s lap. He drew his knees against his chest and pulled Viktor’s coat closer to him. Yuuri smiled softly, “Get some rest Yurio, we’ll be there soon.” He ran his fingers gently through the blonde’s hair, humming softly, and waited for Viktor to walk to the car.