lavandarlizard2 | please hide the knives... + more fic ^_

So, it's Friday again and I still have fic to post; yay! ^__^

The first is just mad-dragon-frothing-at-the-mouth; feel free to skip. Fic is the second... It should be self-explanatory, if my cuts work... IF. ^.o

Some of you may be aware that I am currently unemployed. Since jobs comparable to mine, in my particular industry are pretty few and far between - go to school, kids; get as many damn degrees and as much versatility as you can manage or be downsized, out-sourced and new-technologied out of a job - I'm about two-and-a-half months away from signing onto just about anything to keep the bills paid and food in the cats' dish. Because of this, I have signed on and dived head-first into the local EDD-sponsered career center. I now have a counselor to help me look [employment-speak is more incomprehensible than real estate-speak], a myriad of sources to frolic in and a score or more of 'workshops' of which to partake. This is the good part. The bad, rant-inducing part is that I took a suggestion and signed into a self-esteem workshop.

Now, while self-esteem [I really do hate that term; it's so twee] is a nice thing to have unless you enjoy being a doormat, attending a three-hour workshop with a teacher who coos about 'feelings' and an attendee who announces that she's been there so often she could teach the class, is Not.

I am a pragmatic kind of dragon. I do what has to be done. I don't always like it; I don't always do it well, and I frequently develop a long-term loathing for people who force that pragmatism on me. Some time back, I was involved in an incident that left me with a delightful case of PTSD. There are two ways of handling this, according to a therapist; you can spend a lot of time and money in therapy and hopefully work it all out in a year or three. Or you can figure out what your particular 'triggers' are and eliminate or mitigate as many of the situations leading to those 'triggers' as possible, until they simply wear out. This is quite a bit cheaper, but it does take somewhat longer, like seven to ten years, in some cases. Being at poverty level, with a disabled child at the time, I, of course, opted for the cheap way. I learned what will trigger an episode and I took pains to avoid those situations or get out of them quickly as much as possible. I've done quite well with my cheap and dirty pragmatic approach. It's not always easy, and sometimes I'm sure people had found me to be a little bit odd, but I was odd before. I haven't had a serious 'episode' in almost three years; perhaps I let my guard down a bit.

A stupid handout in the workshop reminded me of a particularly difficult moment I had while trying to deal with the PTSD soon after it manifested. It took me right back to that day, and I took a nice hit of adrenalin and promptly got weepy. I attempted to explain to the facilitator that it was an old feeling, and I tried to turn it into a joke about that particular place and time, since humor is part of my coping mechanism. I didn't manage it. I totally forgot that people who deal in 'self-esteem' have little to no sense of humor - or sense of snark - and will fall back on 'talking it out' and 'understanding the feelings' behind my problem, which is no longer a current problem at all. Instead, I was blindsided by the "I can teach this as well as the teacher" bitch bleating out newage shrink-speak, who took the opportunity to tell me what I should have done/said and that I obviously handled everything wrong and had only myself to blame. Why, thank you Dr Obvious! Now, do you also happen to have a time machine in that satchel of yours so that we can go back and I can try it your way? Hmmm...? No? Then what's passed is past, so shut the fuck up. Then I get the 'talk to the hand' and a statement that "I reject your aggressive negativity!"

And that is where the 'fuck me' part comes in. I should have said, this ain't the place for me, because I don't need opinions from a psyche-hobbiest. But I didn't. I stubbornly sat through the rest of the workshop, another two hours, while my guts tried to tie themselves into adorable little macrame tea cozies and the adrenalin overload did its best to give me a migraine.

It's been a full 24 hours now, and I am still having stress tremors. I am not a happy lizard. I have two more workshops next week; if I find that bitch in either of those - since she seems to spend much of her time at the career center - I will walk out. Low self-esteem, my scaly purple ass....

And the point of all this ranting and fulminating is.... it may take me a little longer to formulate coherent replies to any comments. Um... without screaming, disemboweling hamsters and snorting fire all over the place. Thank you for your patience; I'm going to go eat ice cream from the carton now. O.O

THIS is where you really want to go.... trust me.

Zephyrus sucked air, all dignity gone, and his anger with it. "What the fuck was that?!" he croaked.

Q raised one eyebrow. "Duo is not without power of his own; I thought you knew that. Heero is coming."

Zephyrus blinked and began to straighten his clothing, gathering his shredded poise as well. "I... I believe we'll be leaving now..." He hooked a finger at Farquahar, scowling.

The ugly, schlumpy demon hesitated, took a step, and stopped. "No," he whispered. "I don't want to..."

"What?!"

"I don't want to go with you; you're going to hurt me," he mumbled. He shot Q a pleading look. "I wanna stay here..."

Q smirked microscopically. "Heero's coming..."

Zephyrus snarled; it would have been more impressive if he'd had any appreciable voice left. The Elves snickered behind their hands. "Fine! I wash my hands of that-that moron! And good luck to you!" he rasped. And he vanished in a 'poof!' of sulfur.

Q turned immediately to the Elves. "Find Duo! Heero really is on his way!"

"Yessir!" They both vanished, as Q gestured to the other Wizards to also begin tracking. He crouched beside Trowa.

"Trowa, are you all right?" The Were-Puma still sprawled gracelessly on the ground.

He raised his head mournfully. "I'm sorry; I just suddenly knew he was going to port... I tried to catch him..."

Q petted his tawny head comfortingly. "That's all right; it's probably better he did. I'm afraid Zephyrus pushed some very bad buttons."

Wufei drifted over, still blinking in surprise. "How did you know?" he hissed as Q moved away to speak with Farquahar.

Trowa shook his head. "No idea. Just all at once I knew... and I thought if I could get hold of him, maybe I could keep him here. Didn't work, though..." he sighed.

Wufei patted his shoulder tentatively. "Well, it was a good effort... I think I just made it worse, dammit."

Heero dropped like a stone from the sky, landing in front of Q.

"Where is he?!" he bellowed.

Farquahar tried to hide behind the Wizard.

"He got upset, and ported," Q said easily. "Trowa tried to catch him, but it was too quick. I already have people looking for him; calm down, Heero. You'll have a stroke." He patted Farquahar's head absently.

The Wyvern stared at him for a long moment, then visibly pulled himself together. "Dammit," he muttered, and morphed. "What happened?" he asked, glaring at Farquahar.

"It wasn't Farquahar; it was Zephyrus," Q explained. "They had a bit of a debate over the merits of 'family'."

Heero blinked. "Crap," he growled succinctly. "I am going to cut off that stinking fox's head and feed it to him and then make a scarf of his tail." He eyed Zephyrus' lesser cousin balefully. How in hell did such a loser manage to become one of Duo's circle of protectees in only these few days? Or was it just that Farquahar was *such* a loser... The Banshee was highly protective of the people he loved or identified with; another part of his charm and a continuing source of exasperation to the less-forgiving Wyvern. He didn't *want* his Chosen identifying with something like *this*, dammit. "Crap," he said again.

Q's phone rang; he opened it and said, "Yes?" He listened for a moment; frowned. "Well, that is vexing," he said finally. "Keep trying; call if you have any success."

Heero glared at him. Trowa and Wufei joined them, Trowa rubbing his head against Heero's leg in apology. The Wyvern stroked his head and ruffled his ears. "Thanks for trying," he said softly.

Q let out a sigh. "The porters haven't found him; he didn't leave a track this time."

Heero growled. Trowa and Wufei edged away. Farquahar crept after them.

"He always leaves a trail!"

"Not this time," Q shrugged. "Maybe it's an anomaly or maybe it's another step up in his abilities. They've put out the word to all the other port stations; if anyone sees him they'll either bring him home or call."

"Great. Just fucking *great*!"