#For the record I am not a medical professional and as far as I know AWS isn't even something you can be diagnosed with??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-edgar-allan-hoe · 1 year

Text

Wild Horses

Part 4

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: I hope y’all like this chapter and I apologize if it took long! Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated, I love hearing y’alls thoughts. Don't be afraid to stop by and say hi and if there are any ideas you guys would like to have in this story, just let me know! And as always, I hope you lovelies have a beautiful day! 💜💜💜 Also I apologize if some of the tags don't go through, I make sure to add each and every one of you lovelies but the tagging system here sucks ass.

Story Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Chapter Summary: 🎶Don't be suspicious.🎶

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, mentions of sexual themes

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂Simon Riley. Simon MOTHERFUCKING Riley. The only man to exist that has managed to accomplish aggravating you in every possible way imaginable. For a woman known to have a great deal of patience, he sure as hell didn’t even need to lift a finger to break that record. Might as well put him in the Guinness Book of World Records for ‘The Most Stubborn Asshole Man Alive’ because you’re pretty sure if you looked up the words stubborn and asshole in a dictionary, his face would pop up.

🍂All you did was help stitch him up from a gunshot wound that could’ve gone way south if not done correctly. And when you tell him to come to you if he has any injures or illnesses because you want to help him, what does he do? What does this asshole of a man do? Insults you! Right to your face! I mean sure it wasn’t a direct insult nor were any of his words particularly insulting, but it was still rude and it offended you.

🍂“Meh don’ bother. I’m a big tough dummy and I eat rocks and tea for breakfast. I don’ need your help.” You mock with a shake of your head and a widened stance, mimicking both the voice and stature of the masked English soldier. The little ‘altercation’ had left you nearly fuming, pushing you to go outside to get some of that chilly night air in order to cool off. “I bet you use Gorilla Glue on all your wounds and call it a day.” You scoff, returning to your original posture. You better pray Ghost isn't lurking around somewhere unless you want your ass beat.

🍂Your dad had always taught you kindness and patience, being the down-to-earth soul he was, but boy was this man absolutely testing the everlasting shit out of you. You almost had to mutter out a small apology in your father’s honor for the obscene and colorful language that fell from your lips. But the more you thought about the absolute 6'4 idiot of a man, the more you became frustrated over it. All that body mass and not a single ounce of a brain. How he has managed to come this far without dying of an infection, you have no clue.

“Hope you like that fucking sour apple Dum-Dum you lollipop thief. You’re lucky I don’t dye your stupid mask pink.” You don't know what came in you in that heated moment but next thing you know you were practically planning your funeral and writing a will of your inheritance for your cat back home. Because if there's one thing you shouldn't do, it's kicking a random metal can just lying around on the street. Let's just say you were fucked because the sound that came out of you was equivalent to the screeching of a dying narwhal. The way the throbbing in your big toe had you clutching the wall and wheezing like a fish reeled right out of the water begging the creator for mercy was enough to produce some sweat out of you. And just your luck, as if the night couldn’t get any worse, Price had heard the noise and went to investigate it. Shouldn't this man have better things to do?

The face you pulled would have risen some concern from your colleagues back at the hospital in the states, a widened smile and pain-filled eyes, and you can’t help but to thank the poorly lit lamp streets for obstructing it. You swear you feel like your head is about to explode from the way you tried to keep it all together. But as Price asked if you were alright, looking over your stiffened and awkward stance, one hand out on the wall and your injured foot crossed over the other, all you could do was nod frantically and let out a wheezed ‘Yup. Finer than frog hair split four ways’. You pray that he doesn’t think you’re constipated or something from the strain in your voice. Coward. I would have faked a fall and had him carry me over the threshold.

Price of course doesn’t get American lingo and has no clue what the fuck you just said but takes it as a yes. Just you wait till he goes back in and tells the others what he heard. The man practically opens up the computer and searches up the phrase that you uttered just to find the meaning, all while the others crowd around. And after scrolling through a bunch of different articles involving different American slang, they collectively decide to learn a bunch of them in order to communicate with you. I lied. Because literally from this day forth, they randomly spit out different words and phrases just to tease your American accent. Actually Soap is the only one who does that………….just Soap.

Anyways……..

When Price finally closes the door behind him, you’re back to gritting your teeth and cursing at the pain in your toe and blaming it for your misfortunes, waiting a couple minutes so as to not run into the captain or the others before hurrying limping back into the building and into your room.

What did I tell ya. Should have just asked for Price to carry you back.

After inspecting your toe as what felt to be broken, you were glad to find out that it was just a grade 1 sprain. As painful as it was, for a successful recovery all it needed was some ice, taping, drugs, and a lot of rest. Rest......right. Like you were gonna get any of that.

Should've just reported it to Price.

Guess you can add one more injury to your list of things that are in the process of healing. The men come back from the mission bloodied and bruised with gunshot wounds, and you…….well you sprain your toe from trying to kick a can of beans or whatever the hell that stupid metal cylinder was filled with.

As if you weren't stressed enough before. Now you had to worry about hiding this tiny injury from the rest of the team to prevent them worrying about you. Also because you don’t want them to start asking questions about how it happened in the first place and find out that a can of beans was the culprit behind it. Hm, sounds a lot like someone else.

When you finally laid in bed that night, drugged out on melatonin and pain killers and wearing an oversized tee and a pair of shorts, you couldn’t stop drumming your fingers against your stomach, your injured foot propped up on a pillow with your big toe wrapped and taped up looking like you borrowed Fred Flintstone’s foot. Now just how were you going to hide that? It’s not like you can just grab a pair of those circus clown shoes or an orthopedic boot or some crutches and hope no one notices. And while you stared up at the ceiling, the drumming of your fingers coming to a stop as you contemplated on the idea while waiting to crash out from the melatonin you took, there is only one thing left that came to mind. So, in one swift motion, you grab the spare pillow closest to you and scream into it. A really long, really shrill scream that would have put the banshees to shame. Yup. You can now say you had officially reached your breaking point.

And what happens when you’re stressed? You have strange dreams, like really strange dreams. I’m talking weird vivid outlandish shit that feel too real kind of dreams. Because when you wake up the next morning, sweat beaded at your forehead, you can only think about the very explicit dream you had last night. The one involving you and the team and a series of very……………how can I say this, rated porn shit. It all felt real, too fucking real, because when you move your legs over to hang off the side of the bed, there’s a tenderness there and well………….everything else that comes with it.

“Yo what the actual fucking shit.” You groan, resting your elbows onto your thighs as you shove your face into your hands and rub at your forehead and cheeks.

How the hell were you going to face the team after waking up from something like that? You could almost paint a picture of the entire sequence as if it just happened, and boy was the image going to be burned into the back of your mind like the searing of a branding iron.

You were embarrassed just thinking about it. Every time you closed your eyes, you were reminded of the way their hands and lips roamed every inch of your body, the way their skin almost burned against yours, the stubble of their facial hair grazing against the sensitive skin that lined your inner thighs and the wetness of their tongues, the sounds of their low grunts and moans that escaped from deep within their chests that mingled with your soft ones as their heated breaths fanned your neck, the sharp smell of metal that paired with the rhythmic swaying of their dog tags as they dangled above you with each movement, and the pulling sensation in the pit of your stomach after reaching your high with each of them.

And then there was Ghost, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, the way he looked you over with disgust while you were on your back when each of them hovered over you. And when he finally stood in front of you, when there seemed to be no one else, glaring down at you from under that mask of his, and uttering one single phrase, 'you harlot of a tart', you woke up. Typical ole Ghost. An asshole in reality and an asshole in dreams.

You needed air, a shower, and a change of clothes, desperately. Price had given you the day off when you finished patching the men up last night. And that is exactly what you were going to do. But first you needed to clean yourself up, preferably with holy water if there was any, and then........well...you needed to get out of this building and get some fresh air because what in the 60s psychedelic orgy was that.

Lazily getting up from your bed, you quickly tie your tangled hair up in a simple bun and slide on a pair of slippers over your fuzzy socks, throwing on your plush Grogu and Mandalorian patterned robe over your sleeping clothes and pulling the hood of your robe over your head to provide extra warmth. Today was a much needed day off after the shit storm that was yesterday. As part of your regular morning routine on the days you didn't work, you grab your other mug that you finally found after rummaging through your things; the one shaped like the head of Kermit the Frog and decide to make yourself a cup of coffee to wake yourself up first and foremost.

Making sure to balance your weight on your uninjured foot, you wobble over to the kitchen, your empty mug in hand and your bottle of pain pills in the other that rattled slightly every time you dragged your feet across the floor. Your eyes tear up as you let out a long and dragged out yawn, squinting in the process which prevents you from seeing just what you were walking into as you place your mug on the countertop with a high-pithed clink.

If you thought today was going to have some mercy on your poor soul........................well you're wrong. Because while you have your back turned to the dining table behind you as you try to start up the coffee machine, you had forgotten that the thing was still broken in the first place, and also the fact that you live with five, now six, other men, and their eyes were now all on you. Girl if you don't turn your ass around-

"Mornin-"

"Sweet baby Jesus!" You nearly jump a foot into the air, spinning around in a frenzy with a wild look to see that the whole crew had been at the dining table the entire time and that you weren’t the only one scared out of their wits.

Did you just say ‘sweet baby Jesus?’ They haven’t heard that one before.

You stare wide-eyed in fright at the men seated at the table, your hair a mess and your heart so close to bursting out of your ribcage you swear you'd have to chase after it as you clutch the counter behind you.

There is an obvious awkward silence in the air as everyone stares at the inharmonious mess that is you and your startled state, curiously eyeing the large Grogu ears that were attached to the sides of the hood of your Star Wars plush robe and your bare calves that peeked out from underneath the hem down to your fuzzy socks that had cats all over it. You're practically following their eyes as they look over to your bottle of pills and your Kermit mug on the counter beside you before looking back at you. Oh to be able to read what went through their heads.

Despite your clashing wardrobe that made him question your taste in attire, there was one thing Ghost had focused on more, one that was obvious to those who knew it, a dainty tattoo of the unmistakable silhouette of a rose along the side of your calf. Was that the same rose off of Depeche Mode's 'Violator' album cover? It sure was, because right in the center of the stem where the rose was cut off, were the words 'violator' in cursive. Be still his heart. Is this man planning a proposal and your entire wedding? He was almost curious to find out what other bands or artists you listened to. Maybe he'll sneak a peek at your playlist-

"Howdy! You eh...........ya look worn slap out......I reckon." Soap smiles, trying to mimic the southern American accent but failing miserably, which only earns a round of groans of agitation at the table as the team roll their eyes. All but König of course, he's just as clueless as you are. He wasn't there when the team were searching up American slang.

You-what? The hell is this man on about?

"Jesus-" Price rolls his eyes at Soap's antics as he goes to take a sip of his coffee.

"......................" You're still mute. Your eyes dart between each of them, your thoughts only replaying the pornographic images of your dream as this sudden irrational fear begins to develop that they might be able to get a glimpse of your thoughts. Make a run for it-

"................Ye awright there wee lass? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally." Soap's smile drops.

You're lookin a bit what?

"Mate, shut up." Gaz whispers to Soap after noticing your disconcerted expression. It was making him nervous, no doubt, and the fact that you weren't saying anything only made it worse.

The whole team were practically waiting for you to say something, but all you could do was stare. Girl either you say something or just take your clothes off and let them have you right then and there on the dining table, bandaged toe and everything if your dream distracts you that much-

"Guten morgen schatz (good morning love)." König sent a wave in your direction to try to ease the tension only to drop his hand back down after seeing that you did not respond. Poor dude is worried you’ve fallen ill and is practically sitting on the edge of his seat, analyzing every detail of your body language and ready to leap to your rescue in case you show any signs of falling unconscious.

Even Ghost couldn't stop the annoyed sigh/huff that escaped, shaking his head at the uncomfortable and nuisance of a situation as he took a sip of his tea, the motion catching your attention. That is when you first noticed that he had the lower half of his mask lifted up to his nose. Was this the first you had seen of part of his face? You found yourself tracing over the outline of his jaw and the cool-toned, medium blonde stubble the color of pale sand after a storm that lined the skin there, following along the curves of his lips and noticing the small scar that traveled down until his words from your dream echoed in your head, the same lips that said to you 'you harlot of a tart'. And as you lifted your gaze to his eyes, you found them narrowing at you. Shit.

"There's uh.......there's a cuppa coffee for you in the fridge there." Price nods towards the fridge near you, hoping that would snap you out of whatever trance you are in. I mean if you don't want it, I'll take it.

"....................." You had this overwhelming urge to puke and the last thing you wanted was to unload your stomach's contents of microwaved pasta right in front of everyone.

"Eh....estas bien amor? (you alright love?)" Alejandro's words pull you out of your thoughts. Oh what I would give to have this man ask me if I'm alright-

Bitch just say something-

“Блядь (fuck).”

Wha-what? That’s not what I meant-

The men quickly give each other a glance from the side of their eye. Did you just blurt something in Russian?

".................sorry what?” You squint with a scrunch of your nose, pulling the collar of your robe over your braless chest as a faint heat rose to your cheeks, utterly terrified to look them in the eye lest you'd get flashbacks. Should've just made a run for it when you first saw them-

More silence, nonexistent chirping of crickets that makes you want to crawl into a hole and decompose. Then there is the sound of someone slurping. Who-NOW WHO'S SLURPING?

"Sorry." Gaz utters a quick apology, dragging his tongue over his lips as he places his cup of tea down on the table.

"The coffee machine is broken love." Price adds.

"I know that." You state with a blink, startling the men on how quickly you suddenly respond as if nothing happened as you shove your bottle of pills in the pocket of your robe before unplugging the machine from the wall and tucking it under your arm.

The team can't help but watch as you leave the area with your mug in hand and the coffee machine in the other, each of them as confused as the next. What in the-

"What the bloody hell was that?" Price blurts out.

"Don' know. Anyone know what's the matta' with her?" Gaz watches you go with concern in his brow.

"Ah dinnae ken." Soap shrugs as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Ah think some nugget-lavvy-heid meid her up tae high doh."

"Mate," Gaz rubs his face. "English-"

"Ah said." Soap translates. "Ah think some eejit has riled her up."

The way Ghost nearly snaps his head to glare at the Scot. Why does he have a feeling he was talking about him in particular? There's absolutely no fucking way-Wait. The lollie. The fucking sour apple lollie. Was that some kind of an insult?

"Well that's a load of rubbish." Price comments. "If ye ask me, she's just knackered from mending yer sorry arses up."

The way Soap, Alejandro, König, and Ghost glare at him.

"Yeh but......why'd she take the coffee maker?"

"She's prolly gonna give it a fix." Gaz answers Soap's questions with a shrug.

Soap sits back in his seat with a pause, pondering on what Gaz had just said before turning to him with a confused look. ".................but ah thowght she's a doctor."

"Fuckin' hell Soap."

By the time that you return to your room, slamming the door behind you, you're already cussing yourself out for acting the way you did back there. Now they definitely were going to think that something was wrong with you. And if they did, what would you say? That you had a dream y'all were playing multiplayer adult twister? No. HELL NO. You'd almost prefer them to think you were a spy and take you out-and I don't mean take you out as in dinner, I mean take you out as in a firing squad take you out. All the waterboarding and the fingernail-pulling in the world could not pry that info out of you. If only that dream did not affect you as much, if only.

Hm. You know what, maybe Ghost IS to blame in all of this. You only get wacky dreams when you're stressed. After all, he was the one who got under your skin, not Soap, not Gaz, nor Price, definitely not Konig, and not even Alejandro.

There was only one other person who ever managed to get on your nerves the first time you got to know them, only one person who never failed to make you roll your eyes every time they opened their mouth: your ex. But even then, at least the two of you got along no matter the snarky comments you made towards each other. And as annoying as he was at times, he always found a way to bring a smile onto your face no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Ghost on the other hand, well…….he’s something else alright. This man literally has you wanting to rip your own hair out and hike to the Himalayas to seek some kind of therapy yourself.

"God I'm such an idiot." You growl between clenched teeth, tossing the coffee machine into the trash before limping around your room with your hands on your hips. You definitely needed to get out of the building or else you just might go mad. And with the men there who just witnessed you at your most vulnerable and natural self, the last thing you wanted was to be within their vicinity. Changing out of your sleeping pajamas, you threw on an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweats, grabbing one of your beanies and tucking your hair into it before throwing on a pair of sneakers. You’re already cracked out on pain meds so you might as well run a few errands while you're out, as well as grab a new coffee machine because god knows that's the only thing that keeps you sane these days. You’re so caught up in the process of rushing to get the hell out of there that you fail to notice the masked soldier standing right beside your door a foot away.

“Holy fucking-!” You jump in your skin, hand clutching your chest once you notice Ghost leaning against the wall in the same exact stance like in your dream. Jesus fucking Christ. “Ghost! I uh did not see you there. You nearly had me rushing to the hospital for heart failure haha.” You laugh nervously through your teeth, trying to maintain your polite manners as to not anger the contracted killer. What the hell is he doing here and what does he want? Sending the man a polite smile in hopes that he would just go about his business, you pull your keys out of your pocket, the jingling of the metal making up for the extreme silence that filled the dusty air between the two of you.

“………………………”

Jesus fucking christ. He's just standing there isn't he-

"Uh. Can I help you?” You ask, turning to the man who only stared in your direction, as still as an unused puppet. Only he seems to ALWAYS have something up his ass. At least a puppet talks.

Damn that fuckin politeness of yours, Ghost thought to himself. “......................You're bein’ dodgy." He did not like the way you were acting back there. It was as if you were hiding something. And being the person he was, he found it suspicious.

Oh if he were to see the reason behind it. You're pretty sure it would make his mask blush.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You press your lips together, fixating on your keys in your hands as you try to lock your door.

"Your behavior. You're up to something."

Ah yes. Good ole Ghost. Trusting no one but himself, the little shit-

"Says the one standing right outside my room." You mutter to yourself, cursing under your breath at the way you fumbled your keys and were unable to lock your door due to how he glared at you as if you had put salt instead of sugar in the queen's tea. You bet your bottom you probably looked like a shmuck struggling with something as simple as locking the fucking door. If this dumbo doesn't scram-

"Come again?"

This man was really starting to get on one of your last nerves. “What? Didn't anyone ever tell you it’s rude to lurk outside a lady’s door? You can get your ass tased for some shit like that.” You snark before letting out a quick breath of air at finally getting your key in the lock. One step closer to getting the hell out.

There it is, the real you. Ghost almost can't help the way a slight amusement builds within him at watching you get riled up like this, the faintest hairline of a smirk begging to pull at the corner of his mouth. But despite his little fragment of entertainment from the show of emotion he had managed to string out from you, he had to remind himself the real reason he was here. “The hell are you up to?”

“Nunya.”

“Nunya?” Ghost narrows his eyes, not sure what you were getting at and at the same time not liking where this was going. He swears if this is one of your little tricks-

“Nunya damn beeswax that’s what.”

“What-“ Ghost straightens himself off the wall, hands lowered to his sides. Okay now you were just annoying.

“How was the sour apple lollipop?” You remark, not being able to hold back the snide comment that slipped from your lips. You prayed he would get the meaning behind your little 'token of gratitude' from last night.

You should not have said that-

Bitch I’d become a track star in the fraction of a second-

“You-“ Ghost takes a step towards you but stops from the way you whip your head towards him.

“I know you did it, you little burglar. What, you think I wouldn’t notice that some fish-and-chips-eating crackpot was ransacking my lollipop stash?”

Da foq did you just call him? Ghost is stupefied as he stands there blinking at you, hands ever so slightly tensing. How the bloody hell did you find out? Did you know about the apples as well? Please don't know about the apples- And as he tries to open his mouth to say something, you don't even give him a chance.

“You know, for someone that is known to be stealthy and whatnot, you sure do leave a mess of your Sephora eyeshadow everywhere.”

Oh now you’ve definitely popped a nerve.

“What? You gonna stab me?” You quirk a brow at watching him tense up. “Please, be my guest. Just make sure it’s quick and that I’m officially dead so my student debt disappears.”

Bitch don’t give him a reason tf-

Jesus you talk a bloody lot when you’re nervous, Ghost looks at you confused as he cocks his head back. Well he sure didn’t expect that answer. Doesn't change the fact that he's pissed though.

“You know, you should be glad I didn’t write your Skeletor ass up for not only neglecting medical treatment but also stealing my damn treats.”

“Ye’ve got some nerve ye little tosser-“ Ghost grabs you by your upper arm and yanks you to him as he glares down at you.

Your poor toe-

“Ow! Someone outta teach you some manners.” You sputter, surprised from his sudden and forceful movement. And yet, you can’t help but find yourself flustered at being manhandled no matter how much you tried to preserve your vexation towards him. Ohhh, were you attracted to this? Wait, am I attracted to this???? Nah-

“Yer a real pain in the arse you know that.” Ghost can’t help but to roll his eyes, knowing damn well he did not handle you that roughly to begin with, despite your reaction.

But you and I know it’s just your toe-

“Yeah no shit. I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes in a dramatic manner. “But if you wanna be real, you’re like a bad hemorrhoid if we’re being honest.”

Did you just-

“Whot the bloody hell did yuh just call me?” Ghost snarls as he yanks you even closer to him, your chest bumping into his. Did you just call him a fucking hemorrhoid?

The jerky movement elicits a small gasp from your lips, pried right out of your lungs before you glare back at him with as much as you can muster; your jaw clenched, brows drawn together, and your eyes shooting straight up into his even more menacing ones. You try not to think about those nonexistent slander of words he uttered to you. Dream or not, that shit hurt. And as you think back to the dream you had, you were swiftly brought back to the circumstance right in front of you, immediately aware of the lack of distance between the two of you and the way your chest was pressed up against his.

A heat starts to form in the pit of your stomach, slowly making its way from your core and unfurling out to every inch of your skin, like being brushed over with a velvety feather under the warmth of the sun. His grip on your arm is almost revering if it weren't for its threatening nature as you stare up at him, and you swear you could feel the subtlest shift in his fingers through the thick fabric of your hoodie from the way his thumb ever so slightly grazes across. Your sharp gaze softens, admiring the way the sun's rays from the nearby window lit up his lashes like wisps of gold, like the feathers of an oriole bird soaring over the deep brown valleys that resemble his eyes.

He smelled like last night’s whiskey, a hint of the cigarette he smoked this morning, and his cologne that smells of sandalwood and pine trees. It’s almost refreshing. And in this moment, you don’t even care that you literally look like a teenage boy with your hair tucked into your beanie, wearing a pair of converse and your vans baggie hoodie and sweats. There was only one thing on your mind, one thing only.

“Let go of me.” The only words you managed to breathe out.

“Or what?"

“…………..I’ll scream.”

*cue Princess Leia's theme*

Kiss him. *insert Emperor Palpatine voice* Do it-

You found yourself burning for this innate desire, this need for him to push you against the wall and have his way with you, to have him lift the bottom of his mask and feel his lips on yours, traveling down to the angle of your jaw and your neck and just about everywhere there was you, all of you. Simon had noticed this sudden shift in your demeanor, the way your biceps loosened under his fingers through the course fabric of his gloves, the way your lashes fluttered against the ridges and deep ravines of your irises as you stared up at him with a far-off look that yet seemed so close. Were you-no, can't be.

The way you looked under him appeared to lure him in, not to mention your scent, that same perfume that seemed to have dug its claws into him since the moment he first met you. His eyes now lowered to your parted lips as he found himself focusing on their shape and the short shallow breaths that drifted through, wondering about how they'd feel, their softness, their taste. And as his head lowered just the smallest inch towards you, he noticed once more the small circular scar on the side of your neck. Only this time, he was finally able to make out what it was, and it reminded him too much of his own past. How that scar came about to form on your skin, he had no clue. But it was none of his concern, he had to tell himself. Clenching his jaw, Ghost drew himself back, once again returning to that cold and forbidding presence that was there before.

Actually it’s a good thing you didn’t try to score a smooch. You’d probably just get WWE body-slammed-

“Can I go now?” You clear your throat. “I’ve got chickens to tend to and errands to run.”

"What errands?"

"Why? You gonna help me pick out some zucchinis?" You cock your head back. "Now if you could release that lego grip of yours I'd appreciate it."

Ghost lets out a hmph, the only thing he can do despite his frustration as he loosens his grip just as you tear your arm away from him.

“Thank you." You give him a condescending smile before reaching into your tote bag to grab something while Ghost watches you intently, hoping it’s not another lollie. Lies. Y'all know he wants one-

“Here are your blood results by the way since you refused to stop by my office to go over them.” You slap the papers onto his chest, which earns you another glare from him. “So don’t come whining to me when you don’t understand a thing it says on there.” You snark one last time before heading off to the front entrance.

"Oh and another thing." You turn back around. "I'd cut down on the smoking and drinking if I were you."

All Ghost could do was watch you walk off with the slightest stomp in your step before breathing out a “Fuckin h-“

“Goddamn son a bitch.” You grit your teeth, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie once you step out of the building. You swear that man goes out of his way to annoy the everlasting shit out of you. “Fucking shitbag cumguzzler ass-OH MY GOD!”

You stop suddenly at the sound of a small animal, your eyes wide and mouth hung open as you look towards the ground to see a tiny tabby kitten trotting in your direction from the bushes, it's tail fluffed straight up in the air as it was excited to see you.

“Hi there little guy.” You coo at the small ginger ball of fur making its way towards you before bending down and reaching a hand out. "What're you doing here all by yourself huh?"

The kitten stares at your outstretched hand, giving it a sniff before finally rubbing its head against your palm with its eyes shut. You almost had to bite your tongue from the squeal that just ripped out of your throat. I lied. You did squeal.

“Ahhh omg." Your smiled, your heart swelling at seeing the kitten warm up to you as it came up even closer and lifted its tiny paws to rest up on your bent knees. It was as if you had completely forgotten the mayhem that was today, as if it was just you and this tiny kitten and no one else.

"Oh you’re coming home with me.” You carefully pick up the kitten with both your hands before cradling it against your chest, stroking your tired fingers through its soft and yet dusty fur.

“Mew.” The kitten let out another meow, the small rumbling in his chest vibrating against yours as his pupils widened, nearly blackening out his pale yellow irises as he stared up at you.

“You know what." You gasp. "I shall call you Spot." (Kudos if you know where the name is from.)

“Mew”

“You don't have any siblings hiding out in the bushes ready to jump me and steal my credit cards do ya?"

“Mew.”

“Shit.” You mutter out, your smile dropping as a realization comes to you. How the hell were you going to hide the kitten?

Tag List: @swissy23 @sualocin @kristalhi @deakyspuff @sometimes-i-write-good @hamilfanyu @princessranch @ig-you-idiot @obitoshotaf @cavern-creature @at0mschutzbunker @eddiesbixch696 @souls-rain @euovennia @i-wish-we-could-stay @depressedacidtest @gh0stm3g @thequeenofbigmacs @k1llerch4n @abbiesxox @feraltiddies @wand-erer5 @1redheaded3dragon @anisa269 @jocecymoo @mango-corner @classickook @trueee33 @sockertop @lupskelly @chxbits @kuwizo @sluxm3ozt @tobybestupid @anarchygoose @lez-zuha @thatoneautor0123 @aloudplace @ella-error505 @awkward-0 @ariessux @kermitdefroghere @urloverx @alldaysdreamers @rat-elbows @watersquirtpewpewboomm @izzyisstuff @notabotiswear @thecraziestcrayon @lilwingedwolfy @sprkthere @shyyxzi @bookmark-anon @simplecole18 @itsourkisses-blog @here4thespice @sunndust @josephquinnswhore @spooniscute @xghostyx666 @nikolai-m-s @he4rtbloss0m @classifiedtoe @killergoddessmm @sm8th0p @lunarayx @iwannabeazoldyck @butterflypillows @lobeliaaaaaa @mxtokko

1K notes · View notes

thotpuppy · 7 months

Note

If you’re so vehemently against ai fanart what’s your take on fanmade graphics and edits that use stolen pictures from the internet? These fans didn’t go out with their camera to capture the images themselves, they searched through Pinterest and google and found photos taken by real photographers and, without asking permission, stole these images to edit and create into something else. Yet this practice is widely accepted amongst fandom, but the second ai is involved it’s akin to murder? Even when the fans have clearly uploaded said ai generations into photoshop to edit them first? Seems like a pick-and-choose double standard to me.

Okay first of all, let's address the fact that - going by the language you've used here - you've already decided how I feel about it, so why bother the pretense of "asking"? Dishonesty breeds Discontent. Don't lie to someone's face and expect them to be kind, yeah?

Secondly, almost every single person I know who works with image manipulation uses assets they DO have the rights to outside of specific actor's likenesses. There are millions of photos, graphics, illustrations, paintings, etc. that are open for free personal AND commercial use allllll over the internet and people use them liberally. And, actually, many, MANY of these people DO go out and take their own photographs, so I don't know where your misconception is coming from.

And, the big kicker - they also don't lie about it. They say when something is an edited photo, if it's not obvious.

Stolen images being used in edits is NOT widely accepted and is in fact generally pretty damn frowned upon in most art circles, and I absolutely don't support use of them.

Every single instance of fanart is a rocky road as far as IP infringement goes, but don't put fanartists on the same level as the industry professionals providing celebrity model photos. Unlike in AI and Art Theft, when those photos are used that's bringing attention to the figure in question, not taking it away from an actual creator.

Lastly, where the FUCK do you get off saying ANYONE is comparing AI use to murder? Persecution complex much? I get it, you wanna be a victim so bad, but you're the one stealing from people at YOUR industry level.

AI in general has a metric fuckton of potential to be something genuinely useful to artists of all walks, but the CURRENT industry is too unethically sourced. We need to get control of the market, get stolen works (including, once again, STOLEN LEAKED MEDICAL RECORDS) out of the training data, even if that means starting over from scratch.

Also, we need to get the bullies who think it's okay to do shit like spam a Machine Learning program with a single artist's work to harass them offline, target voice actors who have asked not to have their voices used into harassment campaigns, or lie to celebrities by selling them commercial rights to ML-generated fanart, which right now, they legally CAN'T DO. Because the copyrightable legitimacy of AI/ML works IS currently in debate in courts in the US. So.

Maybe instead of assuming everyone is out to get you, Anon, try not being a douchebag and stealing from fellow fanartists? And if you're gonna steal anyways, at least be honest and don't lie to people trying to convince them it's actually a digital illustration.

We can see the weird, fake blending. We can see the extra fingers, or utensils clipping through plates, or hands disappearing into heads, or shoes that don't end where shoes end. And while I'm not going out of my way to confront anyone about it, I'll just stay here on my own blog, blocking people who post AI, I am not the only person who is angry and disgusted at the lack of integrity and blatant disrespect.

#sterek #doughrito answers #tag your AI so I can block you #don't lie to me and expect me to be chill #and don't act like me making 1 tumblr post means I am the only one doing shit #I haven't messaged a single person about it #I haven't made a single comment #but you bet your ass I fuckin see it when y'all say shit and I KNOW you're lying #it's not a medical necessity you can fucking WAIT like everybody else with a moral bone in their body #im so fucking tired of this shit just be a decent human why is that so hard

14 notes · View notes

ask-teos · 3 months

Text

// TRANSCRIPT:

Nicole: And lastly, Doctor Ezrieal Clysdale. They're by far the one of the four with the least information on them in our records.

Nicole: All that we know is that they're a 27 year old self employed medical practitioner specializing in Wisp care that lives in their clinic located in Starlight City, and that they are beloved by the citizens of Starlight City, even considered a close ally to the Starlight City Militia. (for better or for worse…)

Ezrieal: I keep my private and professional lives very separate.

Nicole: Is that so? Just how separate would you say?

Ezrieal: Like night and day, the sun and the moon… The person I am in private and the person I am in the public eye are practically different people entirely.

Nicole: I see… Because I did recently receive a potentially related file-

Ezrieal: I meant that figuratively!! Put that “potentially related” file away! I'm sure whoever it's about wouldn't like being blasted publicly like this!

Nicole: Oh I'm sure they wouldn't…~

#the era of shadow #ask blog #sonic au #functionally described #volume 1.5: clinic ama: uninvited guest

6 notes · View notes

religion-is-a-mental-illness · 9 months

Text

By: Miriam Grossman

Published: Aug 2, 2023

I was contacted by lawyers in Salt Lake City about a 13-year-old boy whose divorced parents were in litigation over his social transition. Zach had recently declared himself a girl, and his mother was 100 percent on board—new name, pronouns, dresses. His father wasn't going along with it.

I reviewed the records from Zach's recent psychiatric hospitalization. Staff listed gender dysphoria as one of his diagnoses and consistently used his girl's name and female pronouns, but the reasoning for those clinical decisions was absent. The hospital records indicated Zach heard voices and saw "ghosts." I searched for more information about the voices and the ghosts but found none.

Was it possible no one had asked? Psychotic symptoms such as auditory or visual hallucinations always warrant further questions. An obvious one: what did the voices say? Was Zach hearing voices telling him he's a girl?

These were questions that demanded attention from his clinicians prior to affirming a new identity. Maybe Zach's gender dysphoria was related to his disordered thinking and hallucinations. Perhaps instead of lip gloss he needed Risperdal (anti-psychotic medication).

I found similar problems in the care of 17-year-old Nicole in Boston. Nicole's life had been chaotic; her father left when she was two, her mother had five other kids with two other men, she was sexually abused by a neighbor, and her family had been homeless for months on several occasions. She had an IQ of 68 and was on three psychiatric medications to treat hallucinations, ADHD, and depression. When she discovered her mother was pregnant, Nicole came out as a boy.

At the time I was consulted, Nicole was in foster care due to charges of physical abuse by her mother.

Nicole wanted testosterone. I was asked by the court to provide my professional opinion regarding "gender-affirming" care, including testosterone, for her.

Having read this far, I trust you can figure out what I said. No testosterone for Nicole.

Zach lives in Utah and Nicole in Massachusetts—both states that ban "conversion therapy" for minors. That means any approach that fails to immediately affirm a child's new identity is prohibited.

I put myself at l risk when I argued that Zach and Nicole should not be affirmed but instead have their long-term mental health issues treated.

At least with those two consultations, my role was to provide my professional opinion. But that wasn't the case with David, a patient in Colorado with whom I worked directly.

One day David told his parents that he is transgender and asked to be called Zoe, "she," and "her." He wanted blockers because the hair sprouting over the corners of his lips and his cracking voice reminded him he's a boy. If only he could take estrogen, he told me, having breasts and wider hips would make him feel confident and secure.

The medical establishment, the DSM-5, and the state of Colorado say the only permissible response is to act as if he was a girl. David must be in the driver's seat—forget about "do no harm." If he picks a different gender identity, name, and pronouns next week, I must use those. I am to instruct parents to tell everyone—family members, school staff, his piano teacher and dentist—to do the same. His mom, dad, and I are all supposed to celebrate what doctors at Johns Hopkins call David's "evolving sense of self."

Celebrating an evolving sense of self sounds fine and dandy. But I happen to know that when David first appeared at a family event in a dress, his mother—a strong feminist and lifelong liberal who supported gay marriage and survived 9/11 and breast cancer—had to flee to a restroom, where she had the first panic attack of her life. I also know puberty blockers might be followed by estrogen and perhaps even orchiectomy—castration. He could end up disfigured and infertile and still not be satisfied with his body.

When David is ready, I must share those dangers with him. I took an oath to prevent harm, no matter what the gender medical establishment or the state of Colorado might say.

For refusing to validate the opposite-sex identities of David and many others, I risk an investigation, but I'll live with that. I'm going to do what's best for my patients.

Miriam Grossman MD is board certified in child, adolescent and adult psychiatry. The author of five books, Dr. Grossman's work has been translated into eleven languages. She has testified in Congress and lectured at the British House of Lords and the United Nations.

#Miriam Grossman #do no harm #gender ideology #queer theory #medical malpractice #medical corruption #medical scandal #gender affirming #affirmation model #gender affirming care #childhood trauma #trauma #sex trait modification #genderwang #religion is a mental illness

10 notes · View notes

sophieinwonderland · 1 year

Note

I'm part of a system and we have two large issues right now that we need advice for, and since you want system advice asks, we invite you to have at them: (For a bit of background, we are a mixed origin system, who is a mix of spiritual and traumagenic elements)

Traditionally we've assumed that there are a certain number of us, about 7, and recently it's come to light that we might have more? Specifically the use of er, a certain substance that rhymes with "fauna", has resulted in rapid front shifting (like, every six seconds), and there were more person-states than we previously knew about. A few problems arise however, in that we only see x amount of people in headspace, and as a result of thinking that we're only x people and other people only knowing about x people, we've been shoving ourselves into the roles of those six people no matter who the person fronting really is. We've kinda been assuming "oh, this is just a case of varying moods making us feel different" until the experience with aforementioned devil's oregano proved us different. We want to figure things out, but we don't know how to advance given the complications, do you have any advice?

We've ID'd as a system for years, but recently I've done some looking into things on a diagnostic level, and I don't know if we are dissociative or if we're malingered/facetious. We fit the clinical profile to a T (highly imaginative, relatively low trauma, constant wavering on wanting diagnosis, likely cluster b comorbidity, inconsistency, etc), and I only really hesitate because the others have such a strong experience of selfhood. I should note that I'm the only one here who uncritically things this is the case, and the others either brush me off by pointing out various symptoms that could easily be faked/malingered or they acknowledge that it's possible but say that it doesn't matter because it's a framework that helps us and we can just live within it because it "doesn't cause issues". I feel like we should talk to a therapist for confirmation/denial, but we can't have that on our psychiatric permanent record for reasons of trans as well as worries of forced integration. Even if we are legitimately OSDD, we really need to figure out how to cope with amnesia as well as some issues with living as many, but again. Forced integration and worries about transition being halted. What should I do? Does anyone have any experience or information to help with the figuring out if we are malingered or real? Am I just overthinking or is everyone else here ignoring a big issue?

Can you help with either set of problems?

(This was the question the asker of the "does anyone have any good advice blogs?" ask)

I'm not sure how best to solve the first problem. We've only dealt with a system of five, and only two frequent fronters.

As for the second problem, if you're arguing with people in your head about whether or not you're faking having people in your head, I think it's safe to say that you have people in your head. Faking is something you do intentionally.

I can definitively assure you that you're experiencing plurality and aren't faking anything.

Now with that said, in my completely unprofessional opinion, what you're describing sounds closer to DID than to OSDD, with both developed alters with their own senses of self and amnesia on top of that.

I think reaching out to a medical professional would be a good idea.

And no one can force you to fuse if you don't want to. It's okay to go to your therapist and lay down ground rules. If they don't accept those boundaries, you may need to find another therapist. And integration doesn't necessarily mean fusion. It's a process that can end in fusion, but you can decide how far you go into that process. No one will be able to make you do anything you don't want to do against your will.

Just remember that a therapist is just a person you're paying to provide a service. Work with your therapist in places that you think will help. But they aren't an authority figure over you, and it's okay to set your own terms.

In the meantime, I know a lot of DID systems benefit from journaling frequently to strengthen memories. You should definitely try that if you aren't already.

#ask box #plural #multiplicity #system #systems #system stuff #plurality #mixed origin system #mixed origin

13 notes · View notes

didyouactuallyjustdothat · 2 years

Text

TL;DR: While traveling to Connecticut for an abortion is too difficult for many, if you know anyone seeking an out-of-state abortion with the ability to travel a bit of extra distance to come here, there are reasons to encourage them to do so.

With the overturning of Roe v. Wade, many people will discuss traveling from a state without legal abortion to one with legal abortion, though you probably won't hear many people mention CT as such a destination. In most cases, it will make sense for people to travel to the nearest clinic, if even that is possible. Since NY, RI, and MA won't be passing any restrictions on abortion any time soon, CT will never be the closest option for anyone.

That said, the Reproductive Freedom Defense Act in CT (Wikipedia, actual text) offers protections which, as far as I'm aware, are unique in the country. It takes effect July 1, and essentially makes it very difficult for other states to prosecute anyone–healthcare provider or patient–for involvement in any sort of reproductive health procedure which took place in CT. In particular, this includes protecting medical records related to such procedures from subpoenas and disallowing the use of public funds for any sort of investigation of a reproductive health procedure. The protections for providers are especially strong, hopefully meaning CT abortion clinics will be especially willing to accept patients from out of state, regardless of any strict laws enforced in other states going forwards. These protections extend to people other than medical professionals (including non-CT-residents) who helped someone receive an out-of-state abortion by, for example, driving them to CT. Among other things, the act enables such a person who is sued in another state for helping someone receive an abortion to countersue in CT in order to fully recover all damages, including all legal fees. Finally, the act also allows for certain medical professionals other than doctors (like nurse midwives and PAs) to perform abortions, which should ensure that abortions remain accessible as demand from out of state increases, keeping wait times down.

While traveling to CT is certainly not easy for the vast majority of people in states where abortion has been/will be outlawed, if you or someone you know is seeking an out-of-state abortion and you have the ability to make it to CT, it’s definitely worth considering.

If you live in Connecticut like me, we should appreciate that our state is setting such a strong example, but we should also note that while this passed the Senate and House relatively safely, plenty of elected officials did not support the bill. Check if your Senator or Representative voted in favor of the bill: many Democrats either voted against or were absent for the vote.

If you live in the U.S. in a state where abortion will remain legal, contact your state representative or senator and tell them you want to see similar legislation. This act can only do so much good in a state like CT, which in all likelihood will continue to be hundreds of miles from the nearest states which outlaw abortion. These same protections offered in a state like Illinois, Colorado, or Pennsylvania could make a world of difference for millions of people.

I am not a legal expert by any means, but if you want to learn more about the law and how it could affect you or people you know, check out these articles which explain it far better than I can: 1, 2

#abortion #roe vs. wade #connecticut

3 notes · View notes

medicus-mortem · 2 years

Text

Anonymous asked: Are you truly a trained medical professional? Where did you get your training? Your license? You...you do have a medical license, right?

Go on anon and pretend to be a journalist.

“Mmm, kinda mostly self taught,” Law starts, scratching as his neck but not appearing ashamed. “Required a lot of experimentation but I got to know a person’s insides far more intimately than if I’d gone to a regulated school.”

For a moment the doctor pauses, golden eyes focusing on the interviewer. A smirk touches his lips when he notes the way they squirm. There really isn’t anything more enjoyable than making someone really uncomfortable.

“But,” he continues, voice becoming upbeat and unsettling. “I did actually go to medical school in the North Blue. Aced that shit in record time too. Which wasn’t hard. The teachers were fucking incompetent and inefficient. Turned out I knew more than they did. Got myself a license out of that whole deal. Thing is it’s not under my name.”

Law pauses then, raising a hand to halt the journalist when their mouth opens, a question on their lips.

“No, I am not telling you the name or school.”

#anonymous #Boring Question // Answered Ask #As Planned // IC

2 notes · View notes

wyn-n-tonic · 2 years

Note

I hope this isn’t to forward but I am in my 30s and have started to suspect I may be on the spectrum. I’ve been working my nerves up to talk with my doctors about my suspicions, but I don’t even know where to start or what to say. I don’t even know how to explain my symptoms to people. I saw your post though and I wanted to let you know that you aren’t alone. I am sorry your therapist isn’t taking you seriously. That is what I am afraid of. I’ve made it this far in life. How is anyone gonna believe me?

hi friend! not forward at all, so i hope you didn't take my not answering right away as feeling as though it was! i was at work when i got this and wanted to give you a good answer.

luckily, it's not my therapist who is treating me like this, she is actively supporting me seeking official diagnosis of ADHD (i do not have access to my pediatric medical records but apparently i was diagnosed at five) and she thinks that i am exhibiting signs of ASD but she cannot do the formal evaluation. my psychiatrist, though, spends like five minutes with me and i feel like she thinks i'm med seeking which is absolutely not true but ADHD medication is a controlled substance. but at this point, my anti depressants are barely doing anything to scratch the surface of the severity of my depression which tells me that my depression is not my illness, it is my symptom.

people tell me to start with my doctor but i don't have a primary care doctor (i know, i know, i should get one but there's a lot i'm really behind on).

and also, yes. we have made it this far in life but that doesn't mean that we haven't struggled to do so and we deserve to be heard now that we have the language to advocate for ourselves and i think a medical professional who doesn't actively and openly listen to your concerns is a fucking quack and you can tell them i said that and also that i will sign their emails up for every annoying ad campaign i come across for the rest of time.

#ask o

2 notes · View notes

alexcatsr0 · 3 months

Text

Life & Technology

My journey as a nursing student at Centro Escolar University in the digital age has been fascinating. The world of education is changing every day; online platforms such as Canvas have changed my approach to learning, collaboration and growing up with other medical professionals. Please follow me through this life-techno intersection that demonstrates how daily routines are improved by digital innovation and allows for success in virtual classrooms.

My day begins by the sun peeping into my window after which I scroll through my social media feeds quickly. Even before I have had my first cup of coffee, I tend to keep up with latest updates from friends and family members who are scattered throughout the country. Every morning especially at Locket, a specific app that I looked through.

After checking my social media, now it is time to live as a 3rd Year Nursing Student. I have two different routine when it comes to school, its either online class or face-to-face classes.

But in today's blog, I'll show my routine when it comes to online class day.

When its 7 am its time to check my dashboard for deadlines and backlogs.

This is canvas, we use this at Centro Escolar University. Canvas functions as my online classroom where I learn interactively with no limits of time or space. It will be possible to attend Google Meet real-time lectures and asynchronous discussions using technology, which provides a means for actively interacting with professors and fellow students. With one click, I can get access to lecture recordings, interactive quizzes, and multimedia presentations thereby customizing learning to fit my peculiar preferences or pace.

And just like that it was already afternoon and as a sleepy person, I NEED A NAP every day or else I'd get super sleepy and cannot progress any more information.

After taking a nap it is time for my afternoon class, which are my minor subjects. One app that has helped me organize and be alerted when we have online classes, is Google Calendar (special thanks to my friend Melanie to keeping us posted on Google Calendar)

After my minor classes, it is already dinner time and this is the time that I play with my dogs it is my duty to feed them during dinner time.

During the night when I do some activities, one website that I love to use is Canva, it is super accessible and very easy to use.

After finishing everything, whenever I have free time I like to practice my guitar skills by practicing some songs or repeating what I already know.

AFTER ALL THAT, it is time to take a break and watch some movies and scroll to TikTok until I fall asleep.

AND THATS ALL! Reflecting on my journey as a student of nursing, I cannot help but notice one thing: technology has been my companion without whom it is not possible for me to become a healthcare practitioner. By making my morning ritual more systemized, enabling interactive learning and collaborative projects online, or using platforms like Canvas, education encounters have never been the same again in my life. Even while becoming an intersection between technology and life, I believe these digital materials will continue to make me feel strong as far as being the best nurse is concerned.

Now all its left to do is go to bed then start it all over again by morning.

1 note · View note

nerveregengood · 1 year

Text

Nerve Regen and Client Experience

On the off chance that you experience the ill effects of nerve agony and fringe neuropathy side effects, you will need to hear how others are defeating this

sickness with Nerve Reestablish medications. Here we share with you three client encounters with the item:

"Nerve Restore supplement is one of the most mind-blowing that I tracked down on the lookout, and it is likewise better compared to the next neuropathy

prescriptions. It helped quiet my nerve torment and figure out my feet. I never again get the humdingers on my feet that I used to get two or three months

prior. It is difficult to show my appreciation towards the Neuropathy Treatment Gathering in one single line. I never again need to make those extensive

physicist treatment arrangements" - Jeremy D.

"I'm an extremely dynamic individual, and I was exceptionally worried about the beginning of that deadness in my feet and the unexpected shivering torments a

year prior. I worked with right around four specialists and in excess of eight actual advisors, and every one of the meds and the medicines scarcely made a

difference. I'm happy I ran over Nerve Recharge, and it completely changed me. I'm currently climbing and bicycling at this age, and I'm partaking in my life

once more. I have just a single comment to those experiencing nerve torment side effects, and that is - don't pause; as opposed to lounging around, you ought

to give this specialist's recipe and come a shot, on the off chance that millions are getting help from nerve torment, for what reason shouldn't' you." Clark

Stanly.

"Allow me to let you know this-endocrinologists can here and there be so disheartening, and regardless of the number of specialists you that visit, they

will continuously tell that you have some insusceptible lack. It is my second week that I am taking Nerve Recharge, and I'm now seeing slight upgrades yet

the best part is that I feel no prickling torment that I used to feel in the late evening or around evening time. You know how terrible that torment can be.

I'm appreciative to the Nerve Recharge and remove that consuming agonies." Joseph Prescott.

Nerve Reestablish upsides and downsides Nerve Reestablish has both positive focuses and the cons connected, however no big surprise that the aces offset the cons. Here we have recorded the

advantages and disadvantages of Nerve Restore supplement-

Professionals: 3X More noteworthy bioavailability of dynamic fixings Experimentally and clinically demonstrated to be protected High assimilation rate Free preliminary deal accessible 100 percent unconditional promise for one year Cons: As of now not accessible in any actual store. Accessible on the authority site as it were.

Nerve Reestablish Secondary effects and Clinical Connections Is Nerve Reestablish safe? - Nerve Reestablish recipe is made by the profoundly acclaimed clinical teacher Wear Kennedy and fabricated by the neuropathy

treatment bunch situated in Boise, Idaho. It is a major name, and the producer has invested bunches of energy and cash keeping up with its norm. Every one of

the fixings are lab-tried and clinically tested. Thus, the Nerve Recharge supplement presented by the neuropathy treatment bunch is protected when you

maintain the measurements guidance.

As per Nerve Recharge pills audits, there is no proof proposing unfavorably susceptible triggers to the fixings. A few clinical investigations discovered

that far higher dosages of the enhancement fixings are useful, and there are no revealed incidental effects. Yet, in the event that you are pregnant or bosom

taking care of, you should talk with a clinical expert prior to utilizing any enhancement, paying little mind to how compelling or normal it is. You ought to

likewise check with your PCP assuming you are on different drugs.

Nerve Reestablish trick alarm and client grievances Is it safe to say that you are searching for Nerve Recharge negative audits? Uplifting news, since here we take care of a wide range of trick cautions that

you can expect while looking for new restore items. This segment is a purchaser be careful smaller than expected guide for those searching for Nerve Restore

nutrients and enhancements.

It very well might be enticing to look for Amazon audits prior to picking Nerve Restore supplements. However, purchasers be careful with con artists. The way

that Amazon is a major commercial center makes it simple to go off track from purchasing the first item from the brand.

nerve Regen amazon: In light of a cautious assessment of the Nerve Recharge amazon surveys, the specialists found that clients go off track with Nerve Reestablish evaluations.

The Nerve Recharge presented by neuropathy treatment bunch evaluations summarizes to in excess of 3475 clients at Amazon, however the venders' credibility

isn't confirmed. It might be ideal in the event that you have zero faith in the dealers in the event that you need without risk. It is protected to depend on

Nerve Recharge's true site for solid buy and client service.

Nerve Restore eBay: It is fundamental to investigate as needs be prior to believing the dealers from Nerve Recharge on eBay. Try not to succumb to questionable Nerve Recharge

rebate codes from unapproved locales. One of the most well-known Nerve Reestablish objections is that individuals get terminated items or containers without

any seals or marks while buying unapproved sellers or affiliates. Note that Nerve Recharge by the neuropathy treatment bunch accompanies security seals and

set apart with DOM termination date.

Basically, Nerve Recharge is a specialist tried and supported neuropathic supplement. It is an exclusive mix of researcher supported fixings and endorsed by

the Neuropathy Therapy Gathering's clinical board. Expecting there is anything trick connected with it will be a lack of respect to the exploration group.

Nerve Recharge Cost and Value Rundown How much is Nerve Recharge? The best thing about Nerve Recharge by Dr. Wear Kennedy is that each case costs just 0.81$. Well that is one of an arrangement,

yet what amount really does Nerve Reestablish cost altogether? At the present time, one jug of Nerve Restore costs $69.00 while three containers cost a sum

of $207.00, and this is the Nerve Recharge retail cost. You can get a limited cost when you shop from the neuropathy treatment gathering's site, and the

limited expense of the three jugs is $153.97 with a $6.97 transporting charge included. In the event that you are searching for the Nerve Recharge best cost,

we recommend you pay just the delivery charge ($6.97) and get a free fourteen day supply.

You can put in a one-time request for $69 per jug of Nerve Reestablish supplement. You can get a Nerve Reestablish free preliminary proposal from their

authority site, and all things considered, you can expect a $6.97 charge from your card.

Nerve Reestablish where to purchase Nerve Reestablish supplement is accessible on the web, and you can get it from the maker's true site. The organization gives a 100 percent unconditional

promise when you shop from them, and furthermore, you can see the straightforward agreements from their site.

You might purchase Nerve Reestablish from Amazon when the new stock shows up, yet the organization has referenced that they offer a one-year unconditional

promise when you purchase from their site. Moreover, the organization has proposed reaching them to get 'Nerve Recharge sans risk.' One more motivation to

purchase from the Neuropathy treatment gathering's site is that they have brilliant client service. They are accessible to contact day in and day out, and

furthermore you can peruse the awesome client tributes.

nerve Regen - Last Decision Nerve Recharge is a specialist suggested and specialist figured out supplement that gives help from nerve torment, advances nerve recovery, and forestalls

diabetic neuropathy intricacies. It has been a decade that the enhancement has been helping a huge number of individuals.

This Nerve Recharge survey conveys a couple of snippets of data, however if it's not too much trouble, visit the site for additional examination. The ongoing

news is that Life restore Nerve Reestablish is the most recent aggravation easing for the Neuropathy Treatment Gathering.

Does Nerve Recharge work? In excess of 20 clinical examinations demonstrating a general remedial impact on neuropathy status and back the Nerve Restore supplement's logical proof. The

central fixings advance nerve recovery, and the patients getting the portion of the parts showed improvement in neuropathic side effects continuously of 5.

The new outcome on 470 patients announced 4 out of 5 clients with the enhancement improvement in nerve harm, in which 94% of clients revealed no

aftereffects. The dynamic gathering taking part in the preliminary experienced no secondary effects. In particular, Nerve Recharge by neuropathy treatment

bunch is clinically demonstrated to ease nerve agony, and it is a specialist's equation. It will undoubtedly work, and there is not even a shadow of a doubt.

Is Nerve Reestablish a trick? More than 278,900 nerve torment victims swear that Nerve Restore gave them alleviation from nerve torment and recuperated nerve harm. Besides, they offer a

100 percent No-risk unconditional promise. Nerve Reestablish maker is likewise A+ BBB evaluated joint endeavor, and assuming you actually have any inquiries,

we propose you straightforwardly visit their site.

#Nerveregen

1 note · View note

jennjnee · 1 year

Text

SO!

Last week I had my first appointment with my new primary care doctor, and it went great, everything got all set up and referrals got referred etc., and over the weekend I got insurance letters approving my referrals, so far so good, and I find out one of the referrals is for a psychologist, which I didn't ask for but honestly great call on my doctor's part to call in a professional to at least kick the tires and pop the hood on my little queer brain and see what's going on in there.

So yesterday I start looking into making appointments, and I decide to start with the psychology department because I figure if anyone will be good at walking people through making an appointment even though they don't know what they're doing and they're nervous about it and really don't like having to call people on the phone in the first place, it'd be them.

So I go looking for a phone number, and I have a specific name from my insurance that I'm cleared for so I absolutely need to get an appointment with her and not anyone else 'cuz insurance won't cover them, so I check my insurance directory for the number they have on file for her and yup, there it is, listed under "make an appointment"

So I grab my medical record and insurance cards, dial the number, and get ready to talk to the intake nurse and/or robot, when I hear

*click* "Hi, this is [doctor]?"

And I realize in one horrible moment that the phone number listed on my INSURANCE COMPANY'S WEBSITE for my MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONAL'S appointment line was, in fact, her PERSONAL WORK CELLPHONE, and I'm just like "Um uh hi uh sorry hi uh I'm Jennjnee and I was calling to make an appointment and I am so sorry I did not know this was your personal phone number."

And she just sort of laughed the situation off and everything was fine and all and she gave me the right name and number for making the actual appointment, but seriously what the actual fuck that is such a dangerous thing to do to a doctor, ESPECIALLY one working in mental health!

#storytime #American healthcare system #health insurance #doctors #mental health #i hate phonecalls

0 notes

thebluesideofmyworld · 3 years

Text

A Good Guy - A Solangelo One-Shot

Summary: Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. But when it came to Nico di Angelo, would he ever be good enough, though?

Word count: 3900 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || Read on AO3

Notes:

1. Based on the song "good guys" by LANY 2. My contribution for @after-everything-pjo-zine project. Check out other fics (each fic is accompanied by great fanart so you just HAVE to check it out) in the zine here.

***

Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. And he would proudly say that it’s because his family raised him to be one. His Mama made sure that he never forgot to say please, sorry and thank you, and his grandma taught him to respect people. Even though Apollo wasn’t around to be an ideal father as Will was growing up in Tennessee, his grandpa showed him how to be a Southern gentleman.

So yeah, he might come across as a young man who with a sassy attitude. But heck, Will knew that he was a good guy. And he’s proud of that.

But here’s the thing. Here’s a thing about being a good guy. Being a good guy might sound like it’s a good thing to do. But being a good guy also sometimes meant that you’re almost as invisible as a wallflower. Because even though you’re good, there were always be better guys. And one thing that Will learned about being a good guy? Good guys never win.

***

“It’s been almost two weeks, you know,” Will said as he kept his eyes at the monthly medical report that he (pretended) to be reading.

“Two weeks since what?” Kayla asked, but didn't bother to pretend that she's actually interested.

“Since Nico went for that quest, remember? Something about Persephone’s parrot or something?” Will said, still trying to keep his eyes at the notes. Because he knew that Kayla might still see the worry in Will’s eyes. (Sometimes it’s almost scary, how his siblings knew him too well).

“Oh? Really? Has it been two weeks yet?”

“Almost,” Will said, decided to leave the detail that it’s actually has been 11 days and since Nico had left the camp early in the morning and now it was almost dinner, it’s been almost twelve freaking days since Nico left the camp for that stupid quest.

“I mean, of course, it might be nothing but well, I thought it was supposed to be a short, simple quest?” Will continued. “Usually if it’s just this small quest, it never took him this long before. Usually it would just be like, three days, five, at the most, and like, a week if he took a detour to impulsively do something unnecessary, but never this long.”

Will lifted his head and turned to look at Kayla, who didn’t seem to share the same worry as Will. Her eyes were still fixed on the glossy pictures of the magazine that she was looking at. A non-committal hum coming from her was the only sign that she was (kind of) listening.

Will tried to focus on the lines of writing in front of him, but the letters were all jumbled and he couldn’t make himself try to read anything. His mind was too busy thinking about different reasons and scenarios of why Nico wasn’t back yet from the quest.

“Do you think I should ask Chiron about it? Probably he’s heard from Nico, y’know. Like, maybe something came up and I don’t know, maybe Chiron knew or maybe even Rachel got a vision or something, or-“

“Or you could have just contacted me, Solace. Pretty sure that it doesn't hurt to try IM me”

Will stood up and spun to face the direction where the voice was coming from. He did it so fast, he got dizzy because of it. It took him two seconds before his eyes could fully focus on Nico di Angelo, who was staring at him. His face looked nonchalant, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

“Uh, hey,” Will greeted, gripping the desk as he suddenly needed to get a hold of himself. “You’re back.”

Nico gave him a single nod, brushing away some strands of hair from covering his eyes. “Yep. I just got back.” He shrugged his shoulders before continuing. “Thought I’d drop by here before I report to Chiron.”

Will tightened his grip on the desk, trying his best to hold himself from closing the distance between him and Nico just to pull Nico into his arms.

“And uh… What brings you here?”

The emotional part of him wished that he was the reason why Nico came straight to the infirmary after the quest. But the rational part of him shushed him. That damned rational part of him told him that hey, it was him who wanted to see Nico, not the other way around.

Nico kept his eyes at Will and there was something in those dark eyes that Will couldn’t really put his fingers on.

“I thought you wanted me to have a check-up every time I got back from a quest?”

Of course.

Will tried to ease the dull pain in his heart by giving Nico a small smile. “Yeah. Of course. Need to make sure that you won’t fade into the shadows again, huh?” Will let out a nervous chuckle. “I mean, I am your doctor, and a doctor only wants the best for his patients.”

This time Nico stayed silent as he nodded. Will gestured to a nearby cot with his chin.

“Now, if you could just sit down over there, please?”

Still saying nothing, Nico strode to the cot and quickly sat there. Will took a deep breath, mentally telling himself to be professional, and let it out in a long exhale. He made his way to where Nico was waiting for him.

The check-up was a regular one. And there was nothing new about how touching Nico made stupid butterflies do some stupid dancing in his stomach. He ached to ask Nico questions about what happened in the quest and why it took so long. He wanted to know whether Nico ever thought of him while he was on the quest the way Will kept on thinking about him while he was away. He wanted to listen to Nico talk to him, with that slight accent that made his voice so melodious, almost like he was singing.

But it would only scare Nico away.

So he kept his eyes at the board where he jotted down the notes about Nico’s vitals.

“So, uhm… This quest was a bit longer than usual, huh?” Will asked, almost proud of himself that his voice sounded normal.

Nico hummed as he put his jacket back on. “Yeah, we had an unexpected encounter with some empousai. Luckily, David is unexpectedly good at fighting.”

At the mention of the name, Will lifted his head up. “David? You mean the new camper? That Athena kid?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah. For someone who never held a sword before, I have to say that I’m impressed.”

A strange, nauseating heat flared inside Will’s stomach. “Really?”

“Yup. In fact, I promised to give him an extra lesson in sword-fighting tomorrow.”

That strange heat swirled even more inside Will. He stretched his lips into a lame attempt to smile at Nico.

“Oh,” Will said. “Nice.”

“In one way, he strangely reminded me of Percy, you know? The way he held his sword.” And Nico continued talking for a while about that stupid new guy. Will listened, humming every now and then just to show Nico that he’s listening.

Half of his mind wished that the harpies would find that David kid to be a nice target for their dinner. The other half of his mind scowled at him for having that kind of evil wish.

“Okay. Everything looks good. Just make sure that you drink enough water,” Will said as he wrote the date and signed his name on the bottom part of the report.

“So I can go now?”

Will nodded. “Yeah, you’re free to go now,” he answered as he walked back to his desk to put the record in the folder.

“And you’re not even offering to walk me back to my Cabin like a good Southern gentleman?”

Will spun on his heel quickly. He stared at Nico with wide eyes, thinking that he might have been hallucinating.

“What?”

Nico snorted and slid down from the cot. “Never mind. I need to report to Chiron first anyway.”

Will blinked, and it took him a full two seconds before he had his voice again.

“Nico-“

But Nico was already one step away from the door. He stopped and looked at Will over his shoulder. The left tip of his lips curled up, just slightly, forming a ghost of a smile. He gave a two-finger salute to Will.

“I’ll see you around, Solace.”

Not waiting for Will to answer him, Nico stepped away. And just like that, he’s out of sight.

Will stared at the open door. There is this hollowness inside his heart that he couldn't explain. Like he just missed a chance.

He always thought that he’s a good guy. Or at least, he’s trying to.

But would he ever be good enough, though?

***

“What are you doing here?”

Lou Ellen’s voice startled Will.

“Me? Uh…” Will scrambled to pick up the book that he just dropped and showed it to Lou, like he was trying to prove something. “I was reading!”

Lou Ellen stared at him with a glint of amusement in her eyes as she gave Will the Look. The ‘don’t-give-me-bullshit’ Look.

“What, am I not allowed to read in peace?” Will said, a bit defensively.

“Hey, it’s cool dude,” Lou said. “In fact, it was nice to see you somewhere else aside from the infirmary,” she added.

Will relaxed a bit, going back to lean his back on the tree.

“I can see why you choose this spot. It’s much quieter than the infirmary on your busy days,” Lou said.

Will hummed. His eyes flickered to the far left, to the clearing a few yards away, just for a split second before he opened his book.

“And the view from here is also… decent.”

Lou Ellen’s tone made Will quickly look up again at the daughter of Hecate. She’s now grinning at him, like she just figured something out.

“How long have you been spying on those two?” Lou asked, gesturing with her chin to two demigods in the clearing who seemed to just finished sparring.

Will gaped at her. He blinked and quickly shook his head. “What? No! I’ve told you, I was reading here!”

But Lou Ellen didn’t seem to care about Will’s reaction as she waved at the demigods in the clearing.

“Hey, Nico! David!”

Will’s eyes widened in horror this time as he turned his head around, only to see that Nico and the new Athena kid walked towards them.

“Lou!” he hissed in annoyance.

Lou Ellen just gave him a teasing smirk. “What?”

Will groaned and quickly stood up, his book abandoned on the grass as he unconsciously ran a hand over his wild locks.

“Hey,” Nico greeted. “What’s up?”

Nothing’s up aside from his heartbeat, Will would like to answer. But of course, he kept it to himself as he tried his best to school his face into a relaxed, nonchalant, I’m-just-chilling-here expression.

“Nothing much,” Lou Ellen shrugged her shoulders. “You two are sparring together here? Why? Is the arena too mainstream for you?”

The new Athena kid gave a half-smile as he brushed off some hair from covering his eyes. “It was my request, actually,” he said. “I just want to have a...” he waved his right in a vague circular motion, like trying to find the exact word to say. “A more… realistic view when fighting a monster?”

That didn’t really make sense to Will. But it seemed to be an acceptable reason for Lou Ellen as she nodded at him.

“And has Nico been a good teacher for you?” Lou Ellen asked.

Will didn’t miss the way Lou gave him a quick glance.

David’s half-smile turned into a full one. “He is!” He turned his head to Nico and smiled at him, like he was pleased at Nico. “Thanks for teaching me, Nico. You are very good at sword-fighting.”

Nico returned David’s smile with one of his small smiles. A smile that could have filled Will’s chest with warm air. But since he’s not at the receiving end of that smile, it turned Will’s chest into lead instead.

“Anytime. It was a pleasure.”

“You will teach me more, yes? And ah… We also need to talk more. About football.”

This was the first time for Will to really listen to David talking, and he couldn’t help but notice how David’s voice had quite an accent. Especially when he pronounced football, the way he stretched some syllables.

Nico’s face lit up. “Yeah! We should! I know that Cecil played football! Right?” His eyes darted from Will to Lou Ellen, like asking for confirmation.

“Cecil? He does. I can take you to talk to him. Come on,” Lou Ellen quickly pulled the sleeve of David’s shirt and led him away from the other two demigods.

Will watched the backs of Lou Ellen and David who were walking away from them. He could feel nervousness starting to creep in on him as their voices slowly faded away, as he realized that he’s now alone with Nico.

Not that he hated to be with Nico. It’s just… this wasn’t his plan. He wasn’t prepared. And Will hated it when things didn’t go as he planned. He hated it when he was unprepared.

“David played football,” Nico said just when David and Lou Ellen disappeared from their sight.

Will angled his neck to look at Nico. “And when you said football, did you mean soccer?”

“I mean football,” Nico answered, turning on his heels a little so now he was facing Will. “The real football.”

Will snorted and slid down to sit on the grass. “They’re the same,” he said, leaning his back on the tree.

Nico followed Will, sitting on the grass. “It will always be football for me,” he said. There was a melancholic tone lacing his voice. And it made Will wonder, maybe it’s something that Nico used to play. In the streets in Venice, when he was just a kid who had no idea that Greek gods and goddesses were real.

“We, David and I, we were talking about playing here. I mean, it would be great, you know? David said he played midfield. I’m usually,” Nico paused, but quickly continued. “I mean, I used to play as a striker. If we can connect well, that would be really cool.”

Will closed his eyes while his stomach churned with a strange, unpleasant feeling. So, not only was this David kid good in sword-fighting, he’s good in soccer too?

“Do you play too? I mean, you can be the goal keeper. I guess you would be great. I mean, you’re tall and it would be a great asset for a goalkeeper.”

Will huffed. Stuck between the goalposts while watching Nico and David scoring goals? Yeah. No, thank you.

“We’ll see about that,” Will said, still with his eyes closed.

For a while, none of them said anything. Will opened his eyes when he heard Nico sighed. He turned his head, watching Nico stand up. Nico brushed his pants, and gave Will a small smile.

“I’ll see you around, Solace.”

Will wondered why that smile looked a bit strained, but returned it anyway. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

He watched as Nico walked away.

Someone would be a good guy for Nico, he thought. And even though Will was a good guy, maybe he just wasn’t good enough. So of course, someone would be a good guy for Nico. Someone else. Not Will.

***

Will didn’t even know why he was here, standing awkwardly near the table where the food and drinks were.

Oh, yes. Because Cecil and Lou Ellen practically dragged him here, to this stupid Halloween party organized by the Aphrodite Cabin.

It’s not that Will disliked Halloween. And it wasn’t like he hated Halloween parties either. What he didn’t like, was seeing Nico talking with David at the other corner of the room. Just looking at the sight made a strange, nauseating fire flame inside of him.

“Pining over di Angelo again?” Lou Ellen nudged him on his shoulder.

“Yeah. How long are you going to act like this Will? Playing it cool while we all know how you wish you’re the one talking to di Angelo instead of David?” Cecil joined Lou Ellen in interrogating Will.

Will only rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” he mumbled, and took another sip of Coke from his cup. He tried to watch the campers who were dancing in the middle of the floor. Some kids from the Hermes cabin somehow got a hold of speakers. And of course, with a little help from the Hephaestus kids, the party had a cool sound system that was now playing pop music.

Lou Ellen sighed. Will stole another glance at where Nico was standing. David was leaning a little to whisper something at Nico. The proximity between those two made it a little bit harder for Will to breathe. He wondered what it was that David was telling Nico. But then Nico turned his head to Will. And no matter how cliché it might sound, Will’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Will quickly looked down to the floor.

Next to him, Lou Ellen clicked her tongue.

“You know what? I can’t take this anymore. It’s been MONTHS. This has got to end tonight,” she said. Ignoring Will’s protest, she grabbed Will’s wrist and pulled him along with her, walking towards Nico and David.

A few seconds later, Will was standing with a flustered face in front of Nico and David.

“Hey, Nico, David! You guys enjoying the party?”

David gave that half-smile again. “Ah, yes. The party is nice.” He angled his neck just a bit so now he was looking right at Will. The half-smile subtly transformed into a knowing smirk. “And you? You… You are the healer, yes? Will?”

Will forced himself to smile politely at David. “Yeah. That’s me.”

David gave a single nod. “Nico talked a lot about you. A lot of good things.”

Will blinked. His eyes darted to Nico, but the raven-haired boy looked away from him. Still, his cheeks were a dark shade of red.

“Is that Cecil over there? I think I want to talk to him,” David suddenly said as he pointed at Cecil with his chin. “Lou Ellen? Come with me?”

Lou Ellen grinned as she nodded and made a 90-degree turn on her heels. “Yeah, come on, David. Let's leave these two idiots.”

And just like that, they left Will again, standing awkwardly less than two feet away from Nico.

“Uh… I didn’t expect to see you here,” Will said.

Nico turned his head at Will, an eyebrow slightly raised up. “Oh? I thought you were the one saying that I need to work on my social skill.”

Will gave Nico a small smile. “Yeah. So. Good to see you here, then. I mean, for your social skills and all.”

Nico stared at Will. And there was just something behind those dark eyes. Something that Will couldn’t put into words. Something that made him unable to look away.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance, Solace?”

The question got Will off-guard. Of all the questions in the world, it’s probably the most unexpected one.

“Huh?”

Nico held his eyes at Will’s for another second, but then he looked away. “Never mind,” he said, half-mumbling. His cheeks blushed again into dark cherry color.

“But… do you want to, though?”

Nico’s head turned back to Will. “Want to do what?”

“Dance? Do you…want to?”

Nico bit his lower lip and he looked down for a second. When he looked up back at Will, his charcoal eyes were soft.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On who’s asking me to.”

Will’s heart started to jump around in his chest.

“What if it’s me asking you?”

The eyes that were staring back at him were now smiling.

“Then I guess, it depends on the song, then.”

Will’s heart was probably doing some crazy somersaults right now, but his lips curled up without him even thinking about it.

“Well, it’s my favorite song that they’re playing right now. I hope it suits you?” he asked, carefully offering his hand.

Nico’s smile was as soft as the look in his eyes. And the moment their fingertips touched, Will’s heart soared high and suddenly his chest was filled with warm, light air.

As Will led Nico to the floor, he thought about how long he has been wanting to do this, to hold Nico’s hand in his.

They swayed along with the music. Nico’s left hand felt perfect in his right hand. Will’s left hand rested on Nico’s hip and Will couldn’t care less about the other people dancing around them.

“Your dancing is better than your singing,” Nico said, a playful smile on his lips.

Will chuckled. “My grandma said a real Southern gentleman must know how to dance. And I remember my Mama dancing with me when I was a kid.”

“Your Mam raised you well, I have to say.”

Will hummed. “I’m a good mama’s boy, I can promise you that.”

“I can see that, Will. Everyone can see that.”

“See what?”

“That you’re a good guy.”

This time Will held his eyes at Nico. “I try to be,” he said. “But… Would I ever be good enough for you?”

Nico huffed. “And you said I was the dense one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Nico stopped, but his feet kept on moving. He sighed. “Gods, do I really have to spell it out to you?” He asked, sounding exasperated as he looked away from Will.

Hope bloomed inside of Will and he grinned and oh, how he wanted to shout and laugh. He took his hand off Nico’s hip so he could gently cup Nico’s cheek, guiding him to face him back.

“Do you mean you like me?” Will asked.

“Well, do you like me?”

Will chuckled and he could feel a stupid smile creeping in. “Why do you even have to ask?”

Nico shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Because you’re nice to me but you’re also nice to everyone? Because you don’t seem to care even if I talk about someone else? Because you…” Nico stopped again and shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe because I just…don’t know?”

Will squeezed Nico’s hand just a bit tighter. “I was just… I was just afraid that I’m not good enough for you.”

Nico rolled his eyes. But his lips twitched, like he tried to hold back a smile.

“You’re a good guy, Will. You’re a good guy to everyone. But sometimes I hope that you can be my good guy.”

It’s like a thousand birds were singing inside of Will now as he felt like he was floating in this bubble of happiness.

“Then I’ll be yours, Death Boy.”

Will wrapped his arms around Nico, and pulled him into his embrace.

“I’ll be your good guy, then. I’ll be your everything.”

Nico pulled himself a little away from Will. He looked up at Will and the light in his eyes was like the most beautiful star in a dark night.

“Everything?”

“Everything. Anything you need.”

***

Additional Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :). Reblogs, replies or any other feedbacks are much appreciated. Also please don't forget to check out the zine!!!

#solangelo #solangelo one shot #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo fanfic #solangelo fic

128 notes · View notes

extasiswings · 3 years

Note

get me :)

If they’re not going to tell us anything about the finale, I guess I’m just gonna have to manifest my own damn self.

The thing is Buck isn’t actually on shift when it happens.

In fact, he specifically called out because he needed to get his head on straight after the disaster of an afternoon he spent at Eddie’s two days before—surprised into meeting Ana and uncomfortable enough at the fact that they kept getting in each other’s way with Christopher, at the way he felt like an intruder in a space he used to think of as practically his own, that he made up an excuse to leave early and avoided Eddie’s concerned texts for the rest of the day.

But the universe doesn’t care about what Buck thinks he needs because he’s out on a walk when he hears the sirens. He gets a text from Taylor a minute later.

Heading out to cover a 5 alarm apartment fire, heard the 118 was called to the scene—you working?

Buck really couldn’t say why he freezes in place, ice suddenly gripping his heart. They’ve dealt with calls without him before. Bad ones, even. There’s no reason to worry, no reason to assume that anything will go wrong. But he stares at the text until the screen dims, unable to shake the feeling like someone’s walked over his grave.

No, he types out finally. What’s the address?

It’s stupid—he’s in civilian clothes, has no protective gear, so it’s not like he expects to be able to do much when he gets to the scene anyway, but—

But. He should have been there in the first place. And if anything does happen, he’ll never forgive himself for not being there to help.

“Cap!” Buck yells when he catches sight of Bobby after slipping the perimeter. “What’s going on?”

Bobby’s face is drawn and tired, his skin streaked with ash and sweat, and Buck assumes he doesn’t bother asking what Buck thinks he’s doing because he has enough else to deal with.

“We got the call about forty minutes ago—sounded like an electrical fire that started in the basement and spread too fast for easy containment. The alarms didn’t go off—and we’re down three guys from the 136 who got hurt when a load-bearing beam failed and brought a wall down on them.”

“What can I do?” Buck asks.

Bobby shakes his head. “Nothing. I can’t send you in there looking like—”

An explosion rocks the air and a side window several stories up shatters, sending a spray of glass down the edge of the building. Buck winces even though they’re far enough to be safe.

“If you really want to do something, go over to medical and see if they can use an extra pair of hands,” Bobby orders, clicking on his radio immediately after and shouting for a status update. And, well, Buck’s not going to argue with that.

Of course, when he gets over to the ambulances—

“Probie?”

Jesse—Buck’s pretty sure that’s the kid’s name—lowers the oxygen mask from his face and coughs.

“Hey,” Jesse croaks out. “Thought you were off.”

“I am. Technically, it’s—are you okay?”

“I was stupid—got freaked out and lost my helmet, tripped over some debris and twisted my ankle, dropped our radio down a stairwell—pretty sure Diaz was happier ordering me to get out than having me watch his back.”

It comes back again, that cold feeling, despite the fact that the heat of the fire is scorching the air behind them.

“Eddie’s in there alone?” Buck says slowly.

“Yeah—actually, he should have been out by now I think, I don’t know—”

It takes no time at all for Buck to make up his mind.

“You said you twisted your ankle? So you’re done, right?”

Jesse nods.

“Give me your gear. And tell me where you left him.”

Bobby wasn’t wrong—it’s a nightmare inside the building. Not quite as bad as the warehouse fire from the fall, but there are plenty of other hazards in a major apartment building.

Buck finds the radio where Jesse said he dropped it, the casing cracked. He grabs it just in case it still works and shouts Eddie’s name through the noise of the blaze—

“Help!” It’s not Eddie’s voice, but Buck takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches the landing. There’s a girl of maybe ten years old, her hair matted with sweat and blood from a cut at her hairline, and a few feet away in the burning hallway, trapped under what looks like half the ceiling...is Eddie.

“He saved me,” the girl says. “I didn’t want to leave him here alone.”

Buck’s heart is in his throat as he digs through the debris until he can get to Eddie’s neck. He rips off his glove and presses his fingers hard to Eddie’s neck—

He doesn’t breathe until he feels a pulse.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay—sweetheart, what’s your name?”

“Melissa.”

“Melissa—I’m Buck. You were really brave staying here, and now we’re gonna get you safe, okay?”

“Okay.”

Buck holds his breath again as he presses hard on the talk button of the radio. “This is Buck from the 118 can anyone hear me?”

Silence, and then—

“I’m not even gonna ask how you ended up on channel, Buck,” Bobby replies. “What’s going on?”

“I’m with Eddie and a little girl, 10th floor, northwest corner, not too far from the stairwell. I need help—Eddie’s unconscious, looks like a ceiling collapse. He’s breathing and I have a pulse but I can’t move him like this myself—”

Buck can hear the edge in his tone, as much as he’s trying to force his voice to stay clear and professional, it cracks on the last word. He bites his tongue almost hard enough to bleed.

“We’re sending another team to you now,” Bobby replies evenly, and Buck envies the calm that must come with experience.

“Thank you,” he chokes out and the burn in his eyes has nothing to do with the smoke in the air.

Buck hardly remembers the actual rescue. Is barely conscious of the sobs of relief from Melissa’s mother when he hands her off, all of his focus on the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance next to them. The doors close before he can follow. And it’s only as he’s standing there numb that he remembers he’s not actually on shift.

“Good Samaritan is closest.” Buck starts at Bobby’s voice sounding low from behind him. “That’s where they’ll take him.”

Buck swallows hard. “I’m not family,” he rasps. “They’re not going to tell me anything.”

“You’re his emergency contact,” Bobby corrects. “The releases should be in his record. Trust me, they’ll talk to you. Go.”

“Bobby—” Buck doesn’t know if he wants to thank the other man or apologize or confess the words that have lingered around the edges of his mind for weeks only to be thrown into sharp clarity in the frozen panic of those moments waiting for help. Or if he just wants to collapse where he’s standing. He feels like he could do that.

“You did good today, Buck,” Bobby replies when nothing else appears forthcoming. “We can talk more later. Go to the hospital. Go be with him.”

The look in his eyes says that Buck doesn’t need to confess anything.

#chapel writes #buddie #prompt fill #oops?#thisissirius

225 notes · View notes

missmentelle · 3 years

Note

lately ive been struggling with delusions and i cant bring them up with my current psych because she's really ableist. im not sure when ill be able to get a new psych, but im hoping soon. often im unable to tell that my delusions arent reality and i talk about them as though theyre real, and its starting to upset my friends. im wondering if you have tips on how i could manage this until i get a new psych, or maybe tips on how i could find a psych thatd work for me? i havent seen a new one in yrs

Hey, I’m really sorry to hear that you’re dealing with an unsupportive psychiatrist or psychologist. It’s always very disappointing when a mental health professional holds such damaging views about the people they are supposed to be supporting.

Unfortunately, there is not much you can do to manage delusions on your own, aside from getting on the right dose of the correct medication. It is, unfortunately, not really possible to talk someone out of a delusion. It’s especially unlikely that you’ll be able to talk yourself out of a delusion, as by definition, you won’t be able to tell if you’re in the middle of one. You can try to prevent delusional episodes by keeping your stress levels down as much as possible, but this is not foolproof, and it may be very difficult to avoid stress while you are living through an unprecedented global pandemic/climate catastrophe/economic crisis combo.

If you struggle with delusions and you don’t have the correct medication yet, the best thing that you can do for yourself is to make sure that the people around you are aware of the situation and know what to do if you start having a delusion. This is a symptom that really takes a team effort to manage properly, and it’s essential that your friends and family know what to do:

Loved ones should be made aware of your delusions, including their common themes. It can be an extremely scary experience for everyone involved when someone starts saying and believing things that are completely detached from reality. Your loved ones need to know that this is something that happens to you sometimes, and they need to know some of the common delusions that they should look for. If you often have delusions that involve thinking there are secret messages on TV, for instance, that’s something your loved ones should know to look for so they can recognize it as soon as it starts happening.

Loved ones should record the time, duration, intensity and content of your delusions. Whenever you have a delusional episode, the people around you should note down what you were doing when it started, how it started, how long it went on for, how intense it was, and what kinds of things you were saying and doing. This information can be helpful for trying to figure out what - if anything - makes you more likely to have a delusion, and what kinds of delusions you are more likely to have. When you do find a good doctor, this will also be useful information for them to have.

Loved ones should remain as calm as possible. Delusions are often very scary for the person experiencing them - it is common for someone experiencing a delusion to believe that someone is after them, that they are being monitored by the government or some other large organization, that someone is sending them secret messages through ordinary TV broadcasts, or that their food has been contaminated or poisoned in some way. These are very scary, and people experiencing delusions are often in a state of extreme panic or fear. This is why it’s important for loved ones to recognize what is happening, and remain calm - if they also become panicked or fearful, it will only make you more afraid. To best support you during a frightening delusion, they should aim to be collected, reassuring and soothing. They should speak in short, clear sentences, and validate your emotions - if you seem very frightened, they can simply say “That sounds very scary, I am very sorry this is happening to you.”

Loved ones should not “play along” with the delusions, but they also should not try to talk you out of it. It is not possible to talk someone out of a delusion. Playing along with a delusion is also unhelpful, as it can make the person experiencing the delusion more agitated and even more disconnected from reality. Instead, your loved ones should simply try to redirect you - they should assure you that everything is okay, allow you to express your feelings and experiences, and then try to turn your attention toward a conversation or activity that is less frightening for you. If you are suddenly panicked that all the food in the house has been poisoned and are insisting you need to throw out all the food, for instance, your loved ones should not argue with you, but should simply assure you that everything is okay and try to direct you to another activity, like going for a walk with them.

Loved ones should try to safeguard you until the delusion passes. The vast majority of people who experience psychosis or delusions never become violent. However, there is a risk of harming yourself or ending up in legal trouble while in a deluded state, and loved ones should take steps to try to make sure you are safe. You should, for instance, absolutely be prevented from driving while in a delusional state. Some people have a tendency to make strange online purchases or book plane tickets while delusional - if that is the case with you, it’s probably best if you be prevented from accessing your credit cards until you’ve recovered.

If you become a danger to yourself and others, or if your delusions aren’t passing on their own, your loved ones should seek help right away. There are, unfortunately, limits to what your loved ones can manage on your own, and your safety has to be top priority. If you are at serious risk of harming yourself and your loved ones aren’t able to keep you safe, there needs to be a plan in place for how to get you help. If your loved ones can safely transport you to a hospital, that is one option. If they cannot, they should contact your local mobile crisis mental health team, if possible (this is a travelling team of mental health nurses and professionals who respond to mental health emergencies - this service may or may not be available in your area). If it exists, your loved ones all need to have the phone number for that service and be comfortable calling them. If 911 is the only option, your loved ones need to know when to make that call, and they should be prepared to accompany you to the hospital to advocate for your, or to request a patient advocate once you arrive (most hospitals in North America, at least, will have an advocate available - this is a person who knows your rights and ensures that everything is being properly explained to you and your family).

As far as locating a good doctor goes, I think your best bet is to seek out recommendations from your peers - try to connect with people with similar mental health struggles in your area, and ask them if they are happy with their current doctor. There may also be an organization in your area that can make recommendations - most areas will have a local schizophrenia or psychosis society (or something with a similar name) that may be able to point you toward doctors they’ve heard good things about. If your area has a specific psychosis team or clinic, that may also be a good place to start - they will specialize in your specific symptoms, and generally have a better understanding of how to work with you in a constructive way.

It’s also important that you start looking for a new doctor right away. Early intervention is critical when it comes to symptoms of psychosis - the sooner you get proper treatment, the better you’ll respond to treatment and the greater your odds that you’ll be able to successfully manage your condition. Although delusional episodes may pass on their own, the underlying condition won’t - without treatment, delusional episodes tend to become more severe and longer-lasting over time, and you may begin to experience other symptoms of psychosis like auditory hallucinations or a severe disruption of your sleep patterns. Early treatment can mean a huge improvement to your overall quality of life, and I really cannot emphasize enough how important it is for you take that step as soon as you can. Best of luck to you! MM

#Anonymous

65 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

Doll Parts | tony stark x reader

i love him so much it just turns to hate // he only loves those things because he loves to see them break // and someday you will ache like i ache // Hole - Doll Parts

all hurt comfort. angst. no happy ending. big sad. tony could have been like this, you know. he was like this to pepper at some point. i don't know why i am like this today. rated M for themes of (implied) addiction & cheating and non-explicit mentions of intimacy. word count: 3,3k

It wasn't as if she was blind or dumb. She saw the way he treated everyone around him; whenever a single person got too close he'd push them away, consciously or not. The man loved pushing everybody's buttons as if he was playing Galaga for a living; rapidly, mercilessly, with intent. Tony Stark was not a man to whom a person would give their heart willingly.

It was her own fault she went and gave hers away, to him, of all people. And sometimes, it did feel like he loved her, in his own way. Tony would shower her with gifts and affection, cling to her whenever he wasn't away on SI business, and God, the sex was out of this world. Sometimes, she felt as if she would suddenly burst into a blinding flash of light, scalding and deafening, that would sprout from the invisible wounds his fingers left on her skin. Like fine china, she cracked little by little under his steady, tender hands.

The first time he'd ended their short, by average standards, but long - by his, relationship, it didn't come as a surprise. She had never held illusions on ensnaring the world's most notorious playboy. Younger and less jaded, she amicably agreed to get her things that very same day, blocked his number and left for an overdue vacation in the tropics. Being able to browse the gossip sites speculating on their lack of public appearances whilst sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri was a much better alternative to spending her nights holed up in rainy Manhattan, having to answer numerous "I told you so" calls from friends and relatives.

Maybe, three daiquiris should've been enough. But she'd quit smoking because he said the smell bothered him and she- well, she could do anything she wanted now. Being alone and not dating a very public figure definitely had way more perks than she previously had taken for granted in her much less exposed life. That's how the heartache began to recede: it was hard to mope when fun was calling for you by your name.

Some of Tony's character traits had migrated onto her. Which wasn't bad per se, she had been told she could use to loosen up. Her friends rejoiced in the newfound adventurousness, never missing an opportunity to go out, throw a party, go on a clubbing spree. She was game and she was enjoying it. Dolled up and eyes sparkling, the newfound confidence radiated off her like a beacon, attracting just about every single like-minded person in a five mile radius.

Tony's champagne he had sent to their table meant nothing. Her friends laughed and giggled and asked her all about the juicy details about the billionaire; as much as she searched the rowdy crowd for a familiar pair of baby doe browns, they weren't anywhere within sight. So she went back to talking and smiled as bright as the strobe lights, throwing down a whiskey shot to water the burning ache in her chest.

She found him on the dancefloor. Seconds after she stepped her foot into the mass of grinding bodies Tony was there, an equally happy and intoxicated smile on his face and arms wide open, as if they hadn't parted ways at all. She wanted to be angry with him, she really did, she wanted to snide his frivolity and the possessive way that he had the audacity to treat her.

His eyes, they were her untold weakness. She hadn't seen him so happy in months. Just once, she agreed, she'd let it slide. And so they danced, bodies accustomed to each other in the way that seemed to be impossible for her to achieve with anyone since the day that she left Tony Stark.

A splitting headache and a cold, empty bed greeted her the next morning. Thankfully, her clothes were laying haphazardly on the floor of the bedroom - the bed that was not his own but, rather, as she assumed, one of the many guest rooms in his tower.

Not the one to usually harbour shame of her very human needs, she felt like a cheap whore when she got dressed and grabbed her purse, making a beeline for the door to the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, she was greeted with a woman in a professional suit - tall, strawberry blonde and as cold as the Arctic, beautiful in the Vogue-magazine, unattainable way.

"Good morning," The woman spoke in a pleasant tone.

She wanted to retch from the false cheerfulness. "Good morning, ma'am. I was just leaving," Refusing to bow to her own shame, she flashed an equally cheerful grin towards the blonde.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal assistant, my name is Pepper Potts," They briefly shook hands, neither of them wanting to touch the other longer than it was necessary. "There is a car waiting for you downstairs. Be sure to take the left exit."

Internally fuming, she smiled slightly wider, seeing no need to introduce herself or prolong the awkward interaction longer than necessary. "Thank you, Ms. Potts, that will not be necessary. I have arranged my own ride. Have a nice day, ma'am," With that, she pressed the button once again, entering the elevator with the expression of polite contentment glued to her face like a persistent piece of dog shit she couldn't shake off the bottom of her shoe.

Ms. Potts' façade slipped slightly - she must've been new - as the blonde ran a sharply observant look over the woman in the elevator, pulling out her phone as soon as the elevator door was halfway closed. That was quickly forgotten, her head growing clearer with each second it was pressed against the cold window of the cab she'd called on the way downstairs.

It was a mistake, a perfectly human accident that happened to the best of them. Only it left a bitter residue somewhere south of her ribcage, something acrid and viscous that even alcohol couldn't melt. The more she drank, the thicker that ball of rolled up frustration became, bleeding into her work, her relationships with her friends. It was tiresome to keep craving something so far out of her reach.

The exhaustion grew day by day, until her chest felt constricted for most part of the day and all the oxygen in the whole wide world wasn't enough. Her heartache was saved, strangely enough, by aliens - they rained down on New York city like frogs during the Plague in the book of Exodus; as if God himself was angry at the state of affairs of his favourite pet earthlings. For a time, she couldn't afford to worry about her broken heart and focused on the dilapidated city, landing her resources and skills whenever, whenever she could.

Late at night, exhausted and drained, she allowed herself to flick through the news, eagerly soaking up the new details that seemed to pop up every other day. Aliens were real, Thor was one, Captain America was alive and her ex-boyfriend was now a member of the merry band of misfit superheroes.

She had never taken his hero sidegig too seriously. Tony had some good in him, he wasn't the attention-demanding supervillain-waiting-to-happen, but neither he was hero material. The Tony she knew was akin to a hyperintelligent kid left without supervision. Consequences were a slight setback, not a surefire deterrent for this man.

Her building remained mostly intact - some cosmetic damages that were repaired quickly and did not concern her apartment at all - so she stayed in the same place, much to everyone's dismay. A good chunk of her friends had moved away from NYC as soon as they could - not that she blamed them - but the calls of her family, consisting of begging and nagging her to move states, were beginning to climb over the annoying line very quickly. More often than not, she ignored all calls that weren't from her friends or work.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Tony showed up on her balcony one night - but the shriek that left her was utterly involuntary. His armored suit was noisy and clunky, just like was expected from a huge chunk of metal. Tony's face was a ghost of the man she used to know: he was pale, the bags under his eyes were fit to carry groceries in and he'd lost more than a few pounds around his middle.

Not that she had a glow-up. Work hours were long, volunteer work was by far more exhausting and emotionally draining. With her support system scattered across the country and free hours few and in-between, she'd acquired a shrink. Nightmares went away and the sluggishness, too, thanks to a couple of convenient prescriptions. It seemed like the professionals were as clueless as any in dealing with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

"You weren't returning my calls," Tony stated in the way of hello. It was so like him, to be skipping the pleasantries and glossing over the details.

"I have your number blocked," She replied unkindly, raising an eyebrow as the suit retracted and the man, wearing worn jeans and an oil-stained tee, stepped into the twilight of her home without an invitation.

"I wanted to make sure you are alive and your home is being rebuilt in case it was demolished. Stark foundation is shouldering most of the expenses," He offered in the way of explanation, beelining for the nice whiskey she kept in a tumbler in the living room.

The snort escaped her lips before she could help it; brain chronically overtired but medicated; Adderall and weariness. He was never a good liar, only a good faker. "Why are you here, Tony?" All of it: the damages, the casualties, all of it was public record, accessible 24/7. All he had to do was open Google.

He turned around, scanning her head-to-toe, in that not-quite-convinced way. "Just wanted to see if you're okay," He tried for nonchalant but his eyes were haunted. The whiskey glass he was holding empty in seconds.

She walked up to him, staying at an arm's distance from the man, before doing a slow, sarcastic twirl. "I'm fine. Not a scratch. Was in Staten Island that day."

He nodded, not at all convinced. "Good," Before slamming the glass down with such force, she was afraid the countertop now sported a rounded indent. Fingers twitching, he pulled the woman into himself before she could utter a peep, smashing their lips together without any grace, paying no attention to the way she froze as still as a statue. "God, I missed you. Couldn't bear the thought of you dying..." He mumbled in between harshly biting the plump of her bottom lip and steering the kiss towards his wishes, hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head.

He tasted like whiskey and desperation.

She couldn't not give in. She'd felt the same way when she watched his red and gold armor fly into that wormhole, missile in tow. She'd felt the same despair clawing at her ribcage when his lifeless body flew back from it before being caught by the rabid green monstrosity.

It wasn't graceful and it wasn't pretty; feeling like a monster herself, she responded the same way he did. She shredded his clothes, she clawed his back, leaving wet crimson streaks in the wake of her nails and whispered the ugliest, nastiest truths she had denied herself for so long. He left with the promise to stay in contact and for once, he did.

Nothing was the same. Tony was far from the careless, extravagant billionaire he used to be. These days he was a cynical, analytical asshole that one-upped people even before he had a real need to do so. Both of them had changed, really. She was not the tender uptown girl either.

The nights with him were rare and long; the nights alone with her work were recurrent and longer. The tower stood out on the NYC skyline like a sore thumb, beckoning with the unattainable snipe hunt of having something stable with the world's #1 superhero, Tony Stark. Each time they met, she felt almost as dirty as the time she stood in the elevator under the scrutiny of Pepper Potts.

Even if he didn't outright hide her. She'd ran into Black Widow and Clint Barton once or twice, each of them casting a glance at her Special Visitor badge before muttering niceties and moving on with their day. It was only slightly better with the Captain: he got in the elevator two floors below Tony's penthouse at 8 AM in the morning, just as she was leaving for work - dressed in a sharp pantsuit that was not-quite on Pepper's level. The soldier must've assumed she was a high-rank employee or a friend, the tips of his cheeks blushing as he spoke a quiet: "Good morning, ma'am," In that semi-formal tone of his.

Seeing a grown man get so flustered was quite adorable. "Good morning, Captain Rogers, sir," She replied in a matching tone, humoring him.

The elevator stopped suddenly and a few employees got in, staring openly at the national icon, who had his eyebrows slanted in confusion. The woman shared his sentiment: it was Tony's private elevator. She guessed all the other ones were too full in the mornings so the tower's AI put the underused one to work.

Or, at least, that's what she tried to convince herself of anyway. It wouldn't be past Tony to get jealous over something as trivial as sharing an elevator car with Captain America.

The plateau of normalcy didn't last long. Just as she was opening her third bottle of wine for the night, laptop open on the kitchen counter and proudly displaying "Tony Stark and Pepper Potts - America's newest power couple?" article, she realised he was a coward, too. Slowly but surely, he had ghosted her, not even bothering with an explanation of his sudden unavailability, the several dates missed and even more postponed indefinitely.

They were never going to be a normal couple. She had made her peace with that, ugly and depressing - but it was real. She thought what they had was real. She finally had admitted to herself that she loved him, loved an impossible man, loved to the bottom of Hell and pitfire. The fireworks under her skin had never fully gone away, she realised as more and more ugly sobs broke from her chapped lips.

She blocked his number again and bought herself a new one, deleting the "Tony Stark" contact for good. There was more than enough work to do and the time to feel sorry for herself was sparse. And if she picked up a habit to make sure the time working was spent with proper efficiency, without soaking documents in saltwater that her eyes seemed to overproduce those days? It wasn't a big deal. She needed to get back on her feet somehow, without being dragged by a man who wasn't even present to actively be ruining her life anymore.

If anything, she thought she should feel grateful. The blinding light, the stars that exploded and shone inside her only for Tony, became something poisonous and vile. It wasn't the bitter taste of regret; rather, she felt a flash of ravenous, burning anger every time his name or his face popped up in a press article within her eyesight. Love and hate weren't that different when it came to the intensity: she basked in those newfound feelings, taking care to pick apart and neatly sort each of his perceived flaws on a cute little shelf in her overtaxed brain and fatigued heart.

It wasn't healthy. A convenient escape for the summer; a cabin far, far away from the busy New York city - she took up the offer and relocated there, being content with working remotely, drinking strawberry mimosas by the lakeside. Day by day, the clarity of her mind returned, lulled into a false sense of security by the tranquil trees slowly swaying in the breeze and wide ripples in the water.

Tony seemed to be enjoying bringing chaos into her life and making her miserable. The quinjet landed right on the neatly manicured lawn in front of the cabin, several obviously exhausted and wounded superheroes dismounting the vehicle, Tony looking sheepish but determined in the lead.

She wasn't completely unaware of the rest of the world and knew of the fiasco the Avengers recently had. Was it the half-dead, limping Widow or the baby blues of the Captain, she couldn't tell, but the woman ushered them into her house, gathering the tools needed for first aid with haste. Fate wasn't looking to give her a break.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen, alone, Tony was there, looking much like that time on the balcony, baby doe browns turned up to eleven and a groveling speech prepared on demand. He'd noticed her weight loss and the ashen tone of her skin, the prominent veins and the bags under her eyes. She was as obvious as a brick to the face with her vices.

She slapped him. He winced, but stayed quiet, preparing himself for the storm - and storm him she did, keeping quiet enough for most of the team to be able to tactfully ignore the scolding Tony was getting. "I despise, you, Stark. You're a coward. Do not dare to set foot in my house ever again."

Needless to say, the superheroes departed shortly after Natasha's injuries were stabilised and frowning, disappointed Thor and Steve (they'd asked her to address them by their first names) bashfully apologized for their sudden intrusion and any discomfort they might have caused. She smiled at Steve, wide and big; refusing to admit it was done just to spite Tony, she joked and blushed in response to the Captain.

Tony did not attempt to contact her again. For some time, she lived in fear - irrational one at that - he'd appear and wreck her life one more, final time, before admiring the destruction and leaving her a steaming pile of ashes on the floor. But seasons passed and all of it faded, like a vivid, terrible nightmare.

Piece by piece, her life was getting put back together. His name stopped invoking a swarm of feelings she needed to drown just to stay afloat; there were news regarding him, another violent altercation, and she simply flicked the TV back to adult swim. New friends and new hobbies were being made; the fine cracks made by his agile fingers were being filled with the gold of newer, better discoveries.

There was always something going on in the superhero world and finally one of the topics reached her line of work: mutant rights. She'd never stopped being a volunteer after that NYC invasion, making new connections in a domain previously unexplored, it paid off in spades regarding her career growth. The connections were vital to be able to climb the corporate ladder successfully.

Stark showed up at her door three days after half of his merry band of misfits were pronounced fugitives. This time, she expected it. She knew better than to expect him to assume responsibility by himself - a quick Google search and his relationship status was listed as once again single - the Virginia Potts she knew would not have let anything like that happen. Stark was on his own.

"They betrayed me," He'd said, from behind the door she had cracked open a few inches, to make him know he wasn't welcome in her home.

"I think you know now, how I felt then," She didn't falter, ignoring the way his still freshly-bruised face darkened. "As far as I am concerned, you deserve it. Goodbye, Tony." She shut the door without waiting for his response, hearing his footsteps slowly back away as she made herself another coffee.

Tony Stark taglist: @another-stark-sub @letsby @mostly-marvel-musings @rdjesus4ever @ladyeliot

Well um 💀 yeah. I'll go and attempt to scavenge some serotonin somewhere now. Thanks for reading! 💖✨

#tony stark angst #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bun writes: drabbles #bun writes #this is me tearing your heart out and having it for dinner 💚#it's okay i obsess over this scenario and send myself spiraling at least twice a month

196 notes · View notes