#I’m a dumbass with a medical degree | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sapphire11 · 1 year

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Who He Is

This fic is a gift for @gothruthestars2 through the @tarlos-santa gift exchange. Many apologies for not getting this out on time and needing the extension. I hope that you enjoy!! ❤️💚❤️💚❤️

Summary: TK isn't reckless he just loves deeply and will do anything to help people. It's frustrating when no one understands that. Well no one besides the only one who matters that is.

TK has a bad day. Whump ensues. Carlos understands that TK is who he is and he'd never change it. Judd with his big brother vibes.

Read on AO3 Here or below

TK POV

At the last second TK grabs hold of the edge of the door and slowly brings it closed with a click. It’s not nearly as satisfying as it would have been had he let it slam shut, but he really doesn’t want to get called back into his Captain’s office for insubordination. Besides, it’s not really Captain Vega that he is angry with, it is his dad, thinking that he always knows what’s best for TK. It doesn’t help that things have been tense with all the wedding planning and his dad wanting to ‘help’ with every little detail.

As he makes his way towards the locker room, TK takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he’s to blame for stepping into an active fire rescue without clearance. He can’t regret his actions though, not when he knows he saved the little girl’s life. Not when he knows no one else was close enough to get to her in time. Risk analysis be damned.

Paul shuffles hurriedly past him in the hallway just outside the locker room and it makes TK look up and take note of the unusually empty room save for Judd.

“You good?” Judd asks with a nod of his head at TK as he walks in.

“Peachy” TK grumbles back nearly tripping over a pair of shoes left in front of Paul’s locker next to his. It’s weird Paul’s not usually one for leaving stuff laying around and it just adds to the feeling that this is a planned ambush. He’s really not in the mood for another lecture right now so he attempts to just ignore the situation.

“You know you were a dumbass right?” Judd says instead.

“The Caps have already given me the sixth degree, I really don’t need it from you too.” TK snaps back.

Judd stands up fully finishing buttoning up a new uniform shirt. “Well maybe if you hear it enough, it’ll sink into that thick skull of yours and you’ll start watching your own back.”

TK smirks “Why would I need to do that when I have you around?” he quips back. Getting a full eye roll and a slight smack on the back of his head from his surrogate big brother as Judd walks past him, “I’d rather not have to call that fiance of yours and make him take another trip to the hospital before you get a chance to tie the knot.”

After watching Judd walk out of the locker room TK turns to face his locker letting his head fall forward, forehead falling against it will a bang. The mention of a hospital trip feels like a low blow considering it’s been almost a year now since his last one. TK isn’t trying to be careless, in fact all the wedding planning, and thinking of the future has had him acting more careful than he’s ever been in his entire life. He finally has something bigger to live for, a dream for himself and for his future with Carlos that he doesn’t want to lose.

With a groan he leans back and begins undoing the buttons on his uniform shirt. His fingers are still a bit shaky coming down from the adrenaline high of the rescue and trying to defend his actions to his Captain. He’s gotten his undershirt off when the blare of the alarms sounds through the station. Pausing to listen to the announcement he swears when medical is announced and hastily throws another shirt on running for the bay.

“You good?” Nancy asks from where she’s quickly finishing a restock from the last call. It’s all he can do to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the question when Captain Vega arrives. “I’ll drive. Nancy, finish organizing on the way.”

“Cap, I’m good to drive.” TK starts, snapping his mouth shut at the look of disapproval she shoots his way. Nancy gives him a small apologetic smile as she closes the back door and he quickly jogs around to climb in the passenger side.

Thankfully the ride to the scene is quiet. He was half expecting another lecture on proper safety protocols, but Captain Vega seems to have gotten it all out of her system. He’s thankful for the time to focus, because the scene they arrive at is chaotic. Several cars have collided in the middle of one of the busiest intersections in the city.

Quickly jumping out of the ambulance, he meets Nancy and Captain Vega in the back, gathering supplies.

“Nancy, you take left, triage and tag until another unit arrives. TK you’re with Judd, to do the same.”

He groans, “Cap, I don’t need a babysitter to do my job.”

Captain Vega turns to him and the look on her face is as serious as he’s seen it in a long time, “Strand, I don’t have time for this. Work with Judd.”

With a nod he gathers the last of his supplies, slings his backpack over his shoulders and jogs off to where he can see Judd hovering around a car on the outskirts of the accident scene. He has almost reached him when the screech of tires has him turning towards the sound, seeing a car speeding past stopped traffic, careening right towards where Judd is crouched by the driver’s door.

TK doesn’t think, there isn’t time, he just reacts. Sprinting the last two steps to push Judd past the front of the car. Pain hits quick as lightning and then everything goes quiet.

—---

Carlos POV

Accident scenes are some of his least favorite scenes to work and as he pulls up on this one he knows it’s not going to be easy. Seeing people hurt is never easy, but something about the holiday season makes human vulnerability worse. His eyes sweep over the emergency vehicles assembled and he takes note of the 126 ambulance and fire trucks parked on the opposite corner. He hasn’t heard from TK all shift so he knows the 126 has been busy. He’s distracted from his hope to catch a glimpse of his fiance by the beep of his radio and the dispatcher message coming through.

360-H-22 Reports of a car speeding down main towards 4th. What’s your eta?

Carlos notes that the dispatching is referencing the accident scene and notes that the car would be coming down the street opposite where his cruiser is parked.

360-H-22 two minutes out. Over.

Cursing at the response Carlos decides to try and head off the situation hopefully with help from Captain Strand, but before he can even take two steps in that direction, said speeding car comes flying past stopped traffic and into the intersection. Some miracle allows the car to miss a group of spectators gathered on the sidewalk, but the luck stops there as the car slams into the front of a vehicle on the outskirts of the intersection.

From his vantage point Carlos can’t really see details of where the cars collided, but then he hears Judd’s voice shout and the name called simultaneously freezes the blood in his veins and has him sprinting around crushed cars in a need to see what is happening for himself.

It takes less than a minute to round the front of the accident, feet pounding on pavement, heart pounding in his ears. The sight of TK pinned between two cars clearly unconscious pulls his breath right out of him, but before he can move closer to the scene a large hand catches his shoulder. Eyes still focus on where Paul & Captain Vega are working around TK, Carlos tries to shrug off the hold.

“You gotta let them work.” Judd’s voice, heavy with emotion filters through the static in his head and as Carlos glances up to see the devastation on his face the world seems to reset. The noises of the accident scene filter back in as the scream of sirens pierces through. An additional ambulance as well as police have arrived on scene.

An anguished cry of pain that is an all too familiar sound reaches Carlos’ ears, “let me go,” he growls at Judd when the grip on his elbow only tightens at the sound.

“You’ll just get in the way.” Judd reasons back, way too sensible for the situation.

Carlos leverages a hand on Judd’s chest to shove himself out of the grip, but he only manages two steps before the other man is back in front of him, blocking his view of the scene now. “Judd, move!”

To his irritation Judd just holds up his hands placatingly as a team of paramedics rushes past them. The stand-off lasts forever, and it is no time at all before a gurney carrying a very still TK is being pushed back past them. Carlos runs after them, listening to the semi-familiar chatter of medical terms being thrown around, but as they reach the back of the ambulance a gentle hand presses against his chest before he can follow TK into the back.

“I’m sorry Carlos, we need the room.” The paramedic, Helen, Carlos’ brain supplies from numerous work calls tell him gently before closing the door in his face. A heavy hand falls on his shoulder as he stares after the ambulance, the flash of blue and red lights leaving spots in his vision long after they’re out of sight.

“Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.” Judd’s voice, quieter than before, tells him.

The squawk of Carlos’ radio on his shoulder suddenly reminds him that he’s on duty and still has a job to do. “I have to clear the scene.”

“Mitchell’s got it.” Judd answers as he pulls Carlos gently towards the waiting fire Captain SUV. Captain Strand is waiting for them and Judd pushes Carlos into the passenger seat before exchanging a few words with Captain Strand that he doesn’t hear.

Most of the trip to the hospital passes in tense silence, until the words seem to burst out of Owen like a bullet. “He’s been so reckless lately. I just told him this morning to be more careful.”

The accusation makes Carlos angry, “Are you saying this was his fault? That a car careening into an accident scene was somehow TK being reckless?”

“No of course not,” Owen back pedals with a glance to Carlos, “but he could have shouted at Judd to move instead of putting his own body on the line. He just doesn’t think. You have to agree with me that he needs to think.”

Carlos thanks the universe that they are pulling into the hospital parking lot then, because any response he’d have to that would be rude and he doesn’t have the energy for that fight right now. Instead he just doesn’t respond at all and makes his way inside the ED waiting room to find out about his fiance.

Owen seems to take the hint as they settle next to each other in waiting room chairs without any more conversation passing between them. Time passes in a vacuum as Carlos scrolls absentmindedly through his phone. His mom has sent him another list of wedding related questions that he doesn’t have the energy to answer. The quiet is interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the 126 just as a nurse steps out calling for the family of TK Strand.

“Here.” Carlos answers, stepping towards the nurse while feeling several others step up around him. “How is TK?”

She glances around at the crowd, “We’re all family.” Carlos answers the unasked question.

“Okay, you can follow me back to see the doctor. He’d like to talk with you while we get TK settled in his room and then two visitors at a time will be allowed to see him.”

—-

Carlos tries to pay attention to the doctor’s words he really does, but he trusts that Nancy or Captain Vega will be able to answer questions about things he misses when his brain can’t handle the more gruesome details. He does catch that it’s going to be a painfully long recovery. He also catches the look of guilt that is plastered on Judd’s face from where he stands leaning against the wall in the corner of the room.

Before he realizes what’s happening he finds himself seated at TK’s hospital bedside. A large cast encompasses his entire left leg and bandages cover the majority of his left arm. Thankfully, there was no spinal damage and minimal internal injuries. The concussion is actually the most worrisome with TK’s prior history so they just have to wait and see.

All that waiting gives Carlos plenty of time to worry. It also gives him plenty of time to watch and he watches Judd shuffle into the room to quietly stare at TK from just inside the doorway. When Judd turns to leave without so much as a word Carlos decides to figure out what’s wrong and he follows.

He catches him just outside the door with a hand on Judd’s arm. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you for helping back at the scene.” He says quietly watching as Judd avoids eye contact and shuffles on his feet.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” he mumbles.

Tipping his head to the side in thought, “Why? You tried to help keep me calm, so that they could help TK. I appreciate it.”

Judd just shakes his head sharply, “If it weren’t for me TK wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place.”

Carlos shakes his head, wondering what is up with people and their misplaced judgements of fault on anyone except the stupid, speeding driver. However, before he can say anything in reply he follows Judd’s gaze into TK’s room to see his fiance’s eyes blinking open and the furrow of pain across TK’s brow has him hurrying back into the room.

TK POV

Pain is the first thing that he is aware of when he wakes up again. Thankfully it is less consuming than the last time and after a few deliberate deep breaths he is able to open his eyes and take in the scene in front of him. Just outside the open door to his hospital room Judd and Carlos seem to be locked in an intense conversation. TK can’t hear the words from where he is lying, but he watches as Carlos gestures into the room and attempts to pull Judd through the door with a hand on his elbow. The older man doesn’t move from his spot though and when Carlos looks up and sees that TK is awake his grip on Judd is released and TK watches as Judd turns and walks away without a second glance.

“Hey TK.” Carlos' soft voice catches his attention, slowly turning his head as his cheek meets Carlos' palm.

“What -” his voice cracks and he tries to clear his throat which just causes him to cough painfully until Carlos brings a straw up to his lips. After a few careful sips he is able to calm down and tries again. “What is up with Judd?”

Carlos sighs, lips pursing in the way that TK knows indicates he’s thinking over his answer, not sure what to say.

“Just tell me, please.”

And TK knows that’s Carlos’ weakness. He can’t argue with the pleading in TK’s voice. Especially not when he’s lying injured in a hospital bed. “I think Judd thinks this was his fault.”

TK tries to sit up at his words, groaning in pain as Carlos catches his shoulders and eases him back down, but his voice is strong and clear when he exclaims, “that’s bullshit and you know it. Get him in here.”

“Whoa slow down, you just woke up.”

“Carlos.” he tries to give him his best pleading eyes, but stern expression. “Get Judd.”

Thankfully Carlos just nods and makes his way back towards the door. It takes longer than TK expected and he thinks he drifts off again for a bit, but the scrape of a chair across the floor wakes him from his doze. When he opens his eyes to find Judd staring guilty at his casted leg, TK uses all of his energy to smack him upside the head. Well at least he tries, with his reach he only manages to brush his shoulder, but Judd startles all the same, eyes turning quickly in his direction.

“Stop thinking stupid thoughts. This wasn’t your fault.” TK rasps, still trying to clear the cobwebs of his extended sleep and his bruised brain.

“I was standing there. I should have seen the car.” Judd argues softly back.

TK shakes his head, “Your back was turned. You couldn’t have seen it. Plus I don’t regret anything. Your little girl needs her daddy.”

Those words cause the sheen to grow more prominent in Judd’s eyes and he looks away, clearly trying to get his emotions under control. When he looks back his eyes are red and no less wet, but his face is stern. “People need you too, TK.”

He ducks his head, not having the energy to fight the wetness that gathers in his eyes. “Yeah I get that, but Judd. I know what it’s like to lose a parent suddenly, unexpectedly. I wasn’t going to let Charlie know what that’s like too.”

With that all three occupants of the room have to wipe their eyes. Carlos reaches out with gentle, trembling fingers to do it for TK, since his one good hand has been captured in a tight grip by Judd. “Thank you.” Judd manages and TK can only nod back before looking over to Carlos. The understanding in his fiance’s eyes means the world.

Carlos knows that TK will do everything he can to not end up hurt, but he also knows that TK loves hard and will do anything for those that he loves. He’s a protector and he always will be.

#tarlossanta #tarlossanta22 #tarlos gift exchange #tarlos #tk whump #tk strand #carlos reyes #judd ryder

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imfluentinfangirlandgay · 2 years

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Close Call

Fic idea by @pixelchaos00 and I just took it and ran. Ended up adding more medical stuff than it needed because I'm a biology student. Oops. Angst abound. I don't know if I'll continue this or not, we'll see after I finish my other big fic! LMK if you'd like to read a part 2! CW: blood and injury

Word Count: ~4800

There had been a disturbance on their Subway. Of course, this was far from the first time that this had happened, and it was not going to be the last. Rowdy troublemakers were simply a part of living and working in Unova, especially Nimbasa City, and especially in public transportation. Especially when dealing with high tensions and emotions during battle. Especially when dealing with trainers who take themselves a little too seriously.

Especially when dealing with sore losers.

The Multi Battle Line was finished. Ingo had turned to Emmet, discussing their evening plans. Battles had gone well today. They had won some, they had lost some. Emmet asked about going to the new Kalosian place on the corner of Fourth and Harmond and Ingo was allowing his brother to ramble. They left the Subway after checking in with the Depot Agents, ensuring that all was well enough that they could head out for the evening. Ingo scolded Emmet for saying something a little too blunt to a young Trainer and reassured them that Emmet was just excited, which was true. Emmet led Ingo out of the Subway, both of them falling into step with each other as Ingo began to hum to himself, Emmet moving his hands in time to the low beat.

“You two!” The twins had lifted their heads, Emmet’s hands falling back to his sides. There were not many people left on the street, a single person with a backpack walking home with earbuds in and a man in a suit trudging into a small diner. It was late. Night had fallen, the warm glow of the streetlights the only thing that permeated the blanket of black over the city. They paused in their steps, legs snapping together as they looked around for a moment. Nothing. They continued.

“I’m talkin’ to you two clowns! Don’t you run from me!” They looked at each other. This was likely not good. They each spun on their heels, grabbing their caps and looking behind them. There were three men standing in the alleyway that they had just passed, their shaded figures covered by the thick inky dark that permeated the mouth of the space.

“Hello, sirs. Is there anything we can assist you with?” Ingo tried to keep his voice as strong and pleasant as possible, hoping to figure out the issue and resolve it without violence. He (and Emmet, to a lesser degree) hated getting physical. They also made sure to stand directly under the light of the closest lamp. Any small thing to deter these people helped.

“Yeah, you fucking can. You both cheated during our battle earlier. I got left in Opelucid because o’ you nitwits. And then you had the gall to gloat.”

Ingo furrowed his brows and met Emmet’s eyes. Emmet looked just as confused. “Sir, I am afraid we do not know what you mean. We do not cheat. In fact, we use Level Blockers-”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you use. Y’all are scumbags. And we sure as hell don’t appreciate bein’ messed with.” The other two goons behind him came forward, not quite entering the light. “What’re you smilin’ about anyway?”

Ingo knew this was getting nowhere. He opened his mouth to speak, but Emmet beat him to it. “I am Emmet. I cannot frown. That is Ingo’s job.”

It was silent. “Stop fuckin with me. I’m gonna wipe that dumbass grin off your stupid fuckin face.” Ingo threw an arm out to cover Emmet, but he didn’t get the chance. The first guy lunged, fist poised and ready to strike. Ingo had half a second to register that he remembered this man from earlier that day, during the Multi Battle Line, who had brought a half-assembled team of all poison types, which fell easily to Excadrill and Haxorus and had yelled at the two of them for ‘cheating’ by using Earthquake. They had to have him escorted out.

Something crunched next to Ingo’s head. A groan. Ingo whirled to see Emmet’s glove stained with red and human flesh crumpling beneath white cloth. The attacker stumbled back, holding his face and growling. Emmet shook his hand off, grimacing. “I am Emmet. I do not like blood.”

That only served to make the men angrier. The first one barreled at Emmet again, forcing his body weight onto him and toppling the two of them over. Emmet was forced to engage with him, trying to hold him back and get some debilitating hits in at the same time. During this, Ingo was distracted. Something smashed into his jaw, making him see stars. Ingo stepped back, turning and holding up his arms over his chest, trying to cover himself as he took in his own adversary.

It was the other man from before. He’d used exclusively steel types. Which had also fallen easily to Earthquake. He carried a small glinting object in his hand and a ballcap that shaded his eyes. He grimaced at Ingo. “Asshole,” he growled as he came in for the attack again. He held the knife in a backhand stroke, bringing it down as Ingo tucked and dodged, as Drayden had taught him. After they had moved to Nimbasa, their uncle had showed the twins a few things about self-defense and brawling, in case they ever got into an altercation like this. It was coming in handy now.

Ingo dodged, sweeping out a leg as he came down and forcing the man to crash down. He grunted and rolled, grabbing Ingo’s leg and forcing him to crash down, too. Ingo caught himself on his arm, rolling up to get a view of the man again. He had flitted over to Ingo, straddling him and a hand was lunging for Ingo-

Ingo wrapped his arm around the man’s outstretched one, grabbing the upper end of the appendage and keeping it temporarily restrained as he tried to grab the knife. Ingo wrapped his legs around the man’s legs as well, rotating his body and forcing the man’s center of gravity over. They flipped positions so that Ingo was now straddling the guy, holding down his arms and legs and effectively not allowing him to move.

A kick landed to his side. He felt something shift and heard a pop below his flesh as he fell to the side, grunting in pain. Something was broken. Ingo’s breath was gone for a moment, he needed to breathe. He opened his eyes again, looking up in time to see something shiny and silver glint above his head and he felt pressure in his side, like he was being punched again and again, all along his right side. He tried to cover the area with his hand but it did not do much, as they just got moved out of the way.

The other attacker came to his other side and kicked his left side. Ingo could not breath. He reached out with his arms and tightly gripped their ankles, making them fall again. Was Emmet okay? He had to make sure Emmet was alright. Ingo could feel something warm and viscous on his side, as he pushed himself to the side, leaning towards the one without a weapon. A fist was reaching for Ingo’s face but he ducked and punched with all his strength, landing a hard hit on the man’s temple. He crumpled to the ground.

Pressure in his back again, like a punch. Ingo grunted and tried to roll, but found he was pinned. He was being held down, there was a pressure in his back and on his arm as a heel ground into his hand, Ingo tried flailing-

The pressure disappeared. Sounds above him. Someone was grunting, there was a scuffle, where was Emmet? Was he alright? Ingo tried to peel himself off the ground but his arms gave out. They felt like noodles, overcooked and way too loose. He fell, his face connecting with the concrete again.

Warmth. It was everywhere, had someone spilled syrup on him? It was everywhere, all over his back and side. It was sticky and his clothes were sticking to his side uncomfortably. “Emmet?” he croaked. “Emmet? Are… you alright?” Ingo managed to slowly flip himself right as a massive wave of pain overtook him, his side feeling like it had simultaneously been burned and electrocuted. He cried out. Oh, Arceus, it hurt. His hands flew to his side and Ingo became aware of the red, everywhere. Red all over his white shirt, his white gloves, why was there so much red? Where had it come from?

There was another noise. Someone was talking, but it sounded like he had jelly shoved into his ears. Maybe it was the same red that was on the ground? He didn’t know. A familiar face floated above his, silver eyes and silver hair. It was… Emmet, yes, it was Emmet! Ingo’s lips moved, trying to ask if he was alright, if he needed assistance, did he need help? He couldn’t hear his own words in his head. Why was Emmet’s voice echoing? What were those lights? A tap on his cheek and Ingo realized that his eyes were closing. He felt so sleepy suddenly, it surely would not be that bad if he took a short nap, right? Emmet was shouting something, his eyes fearful, what was he afraid of?

The pain crescendoed again, making Ingo suck in a breath- only he couldn’t. He couldn’t breath. He gasped, trying, begging his lungs to take in air again. Please, he needed air, why couldn’t he breathe? Someone was shaking him, black spots appeared in his vision, the lights, so many bright lights-

—------------------

The first thing Ingo was aware of was pain. Aching, dull, and yet freezing. Why was he so cold? He wanted to shiver but his body would not respond. He hurt. He hurt so much. Why did he hurt so much?

Beeping above him. It was methodic, occurring at regular intervals. Had Emmet changed his alarm again? He should know that unless it was louder, Ingo would never get up on time! How late was he?

He cracked open his eyes. He was not in his bedroom. In fact, he did not think he was home. The walls were completely white, a small TV screen dangling from one wall was turned off. The ceilings looked like those one would find in a school or institution, not a home. The large window was covered with a white curtain, which did not do much for the light streaming through them. A sink stood on his left with some supplies he could not identify yet. That beeping behind him started again. Something was over his face.

Hospital, he thought suddenly. And just like that, the events of before flooded back to him. The world came into a sharper focus, allowing him to make out more details as his mind spat out the events of the fight. There was a tube taped to his face, blowing air into his nose. There was a needle inserted into his right hand, giving him IV fluids and medication from the bag beside him. That beep again… was it a heart monitor? Latex gloves in neat boxes and syringes lined the sink to the side with small paper cups in a dispenser on the wall. It smelled like antiseptic.

Chairs were lined up at his bedside. All were empty except one, which had a figure in it. Their silver head bobbed, one hand holding his left hand, the one without wires, as he buried his face in Ingo’s blankets. Emmet.

“Emmet…?” Ingo croaked. He hated how dry his mouth felt. How long had he been asleep?

Emmet’s head shot up. Oh, his poor brother looked awful. His hair was completely unkempt and greasy. It had to have been several days since he washed it. His eyes were sunken, surrounded by dark circles and bags. His lips were chapped. His face was pale, way too pale. His hand was shaking. As soon as Emmet saw Ingo’s eyes, a small, relieved breath left his body, tears springing to his eyes.

“Oh, thank Arceus, you’re awake.” Emmet shuddered, squeezing Ingo’s hand gently. He hiccupped, which put Ingo into brother mode.

“Emmet? What… how long was I…?” He wanted to ask so many questions but how throat kept closing up. He coughed and hissed at the sudden flare up of pain in his chest. Something felt off, like there was some foreign body in his chest.

“Ingo, don’t talk.” Ingo knitted his brows and looked at Emmet. “I can… the doctor, I’ll get the doctor. He can explain. You’ve been asleep for three days.”

Three days?! No wonder Emmet looked so distraught…

Ingo opened his mouth to speak, but Emmet placed a finger over his lips. “Your lung was punctured. They are trying to reinflate it. Keep the whistles to a minimum.” Emmet pressed a small button by Ingo’s side. He must be summoning someone. Ingo shakily took his right hand (why was it shaking so horribly?) and formed his forefinger and thumb into a C shape, tipping it towards his face. Emmet nodded and quickly got up, nearly knocking over his chair as he did so, filling a small paper cup with water and passing it to Ingo. Ingo tried to take it but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t hold it. Emmet had to assist him in getting the liquid into his mouth.

It was cool and refreshing. Ingo almost whined with how nice it was to have something other than morning breath permeate his mouth.

A door swung open, revealing two people. Both seemed like medical personnel. The first, a tall man with glasses and short dark hair, gave a warm smile. “Ah, it is good to see you awake. You gave us quite a scare.” Emmet’s hand took his again. It was comforting.

“What happened?” Ingo’s voice was already stronger with the intake of liquid.

“What do you remember?”

“I remember… being attacked. By three passengers. They were upset… by our conduct on the Subway, I believe. One had a knife. I… do not remember details…” Ingo was feeling tired suddenly. Why was he so exhausted?

“Your brother brought you both in here just in time. You had been stabbed several times and we almost could not bring you back. As it was, one of your lungs collapsed and you needed a blood transfusion. You also had liver damage and cuts in the intestine from the blade, but we were able to control the damage there. Quite honestly, you are lucky to be alive. We counted twelve separate stab wounds on your side and back.”

Ingo hardly had the energy to nod, but he did. The doctor continued. “The fact that you are awake is a fantastic sign. You will require several weeks of healing, but you will be back to your old self without too many lasting effects.” Ingo nodded again, his energy and wakefulness fading.

He heard Emmet say something suddenly, frightened, and someone’s quiet voice was answering him…

—----------------------

The next time Ingo awoke it was night. The pain was still present, but it seemed duller, less of a heavy presence now. The window was dark. The room had a nightlight in one corner, casting deep shadows into the room.

That same presence from before laid beside him, on the bed. Emmet. His hand was still in Ingo’s, his head now completely on the bed, his face turned to Ingo. His eyes were closed. A small amount of drool escaped the side of his mouth, saturating a small puddle on the bed. Ingo carefully retracted his hand, carding it through Emmet’s hair. It was not cleaned. Emmet did not look any better than he had last time Ingo had awakened. If anything, his bags were more pronounced, his face an even sicklier pallor. Ingo wanted nothing else than to force him to eat something and hug him. He somehow looked worse than Ingo felt.

His eyes fluttered open at the contact. Ingo continued moving his hand through Emmet’s hair as Emmet readjusted to wakefulness. Then he smiled, softly, grabbing Ingo’s hand and sitting up straight. Ingo heard his spine pop. How long had he been hunched over like that?

“Ingo.” He sounded tired.

“Emmet, are you feeling alright?” Emmet’s face split into a wider grin and he chuckled.

“You are the one in a hospital bed. And you are asking me if I am alright?”

“You look like death. When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”

Emmet did not answer. He squeezed Ingo’s hand and cocked his head ever so slightly, looking into and reading Ingo’s eyes. “How long was I uncoupled this time?” Ingo asked.

“Thirty-six hours. The doctor said it is normal. You will be in and out for some time.” Ingo nodded, leaning his head back onto the pillows again. He stretched his neck, hearing a satisfying pop in his upper spine. He sighed. “They removed the tube. Your lungs are normal again. You are healing, slowly.” Ingo nodded at him in response and hummed. Ingo took Emmet’s hand again, giving it a squeeze. Emmet grabbed it in both hands. “I almost lost you.” His voice was small, like it had been when he’d first began to talk at the age of seven. Uneven, unsure, and so, so vulnerable.

Ingo turned his head so that he was looking at Emmet directly. “But you did not. You are still stuck with me,” he added, trying to make it more lighthearted.

“Don’t say it like that. It is never like that. If you had… I don’t know what I would have…” Tears were forming in Emmet’s eyes, which he angrily wiped away. Ingo squeezed his hand again, then retracted it. He braced himself, moving half an inch to the right. It made pain flare up in his side, but he gritted his teeth and moved. “I-Ingo, what are you, that’s not good for you-”

Ingo stopped, now successfully moved over by a couple inches. It would have to work. He patted the empty space next to him.

“Lay with me.”

Emmet cocked his head. “The doctor said-”

“Emmet, you look like you’re about to collapse. I can’t do much from here, but I can do this. I know you sleep better with company. You don’t have to get all the way up. Just lay your head next to me. Please.” His voice was tired. He could tell, it had not been used much in some time.

Emmet carefully sat on the bed and leaned down, looking at Ingo to ensure he was not hurting him. He picked his way down, like a Liepard laying in her nest, ensuring he did not put pressure on any part of Ingo’s body. He straightened himself, laying his head down by Ingo’s ribs so that Ingo’s arm had full range of motion, bending his knees ever so slightly. His whole body was now on the bed. Ingo pulled Emmet into his side, placing his arm down by Emmet’s back. He gently took Emmet’s free hand and laid it over his own stomach. He could hear Emmet begin to protest but Ingo cut him off. “I do not feel any pain there. It is only my side and my chest, not my stomach. I promise I will inform you of any pain.” He then placed his own arm back on his brother’s back, rubbing in gentle circles. Just like when there used to be loud fireworks outside their window when they were young.

Emmet’s breathing leveled out quickly. He must already be asleep. Ingo leaned his head back, allowing his eyes to close and again falling into the soft blanket of unconsciousness.

—----------------

“Well, gentlemen, it looks like Ingo can finally be discharged. Ensure that you do not return to your normal schedule for some time and that you perform the stretches we spoke of, as well as keeping up with your medications. Stay on this for two weeks and come back so we can ensure that you are on the proper road to recovery. A nurse will return shortly to bring in the discharge paperwork.” The doctor nodded kindly at them and walked out, leaving the brothers by themselves.

Emmet smiled at Ingo, squeezing his hand. “You can come home again,” he said softly. He looked much better. Since Ingo had begun being awake more than twenty minutes per day, he had enforced Emmet’s self-care schedule once again. He made his brother retrieve nourishment, shower, and sleep at regular intervals. Especially at first, Emmet had not wanted to let Ingo out of his sight, but Ingo had managed to goad him into it after threatening to scruff him and take him to the shower himself. (And he almost did, once. That event had been the turning point for Emmet.) His eyes were still sunken and surrounded by shadows, but they were less haunted and glassy. Some life had returned to them. He had color in his cheeks again.

Ingo nodded. He was ready to be out of this hospital and back home again. He had been here for two weeks now. Emmet had brought him a set of his old clothes, consisting of sleep pants and a faded old shirt. Ingo did not care. He got to wear real clothes again. Emmet had to help him into the clothing to ensure he did not tear the leftover scabbing on his side. The waistband of his pants rubbed awkwardly against the bandaging and he had to tie them loosely to prevent any damage. He wanted nothing more than to shower. A real shower. He reeked of hospital.

He stood, as he had been practicing with the nurses and Emmet for some time. He needed to get his strength back now. Emmet offered him an arm to help him trudge out the door, to the front desk, and finally out of the front door of the hospital.

Someone met them there. It was someone that Ingo knew well. She stood tall and proud, her nice yellow blouse covered by a leather jacket. Her hair was up in a bun, with her normal two strands hanging down by her hips. Emmet called to her, waving at her with the hand that Ingo was not using to balance. She jolted up, running closer and skidding to a halt a couple feet from them, taking Ingo’s other arm to help him.

“Oh Arceus, Ingo, you’re okay. Oh, thank Arceus you’re okay. How are you feeling?” Elesa looked at him with tears on her face, not bothered that her makeup would be ruined.

“I just feel tired. I have not moved this much in quite some time. The doctor says all my vitals are normal and now we just wait for my muscles and skin to repair themselves.”

“He also said not to let you work yet. No Subway for you,” Emmet chirped.

Ingo grumbled. He was not happy about that bit, though he begrudgingly understood why. He didn’t have to like it. Elesa giggled next to him. “It’s good to see not that much has changed.”

She had not been able to visit him in the hospital, as they had only allowed for one visitor. Not that she would have been able to interact with him much, as he had spent much of the first week asleep in his bed.

The two helped him to Elesa’s car, ensuring he got safely into the backseat and buckled in before Emmet climbed in on the other side and Elesa took the drivers seat. She put the vehicle in motion. Elesa asked Ingo about how he felt now and updated him on the happenings during his stay. Emmet had not said too much about the world outside the hospital, partly because he did not want to stress Ingo too much, and partly because he simply did not speak much. Especially with the exhaustion he experienced the first few days of Ingo’s stay.

They made it back to the twins’ apartment within ten minutes, Elesa parking out front to allow Emmet out to help Ingo inside. They had to take the elevator up, as Ingo was unsure about stairs yet.

Elesa caught up with them at their front door and took the key from a shaking Emmet, unlocking and opening the door. The space smelled a little musty, but overall it looked much the same. Their furniture sat in their old spots, no trash piled up anywhere, their bookshelf still stuffed full. What was odd, though, was the lack of movement within.

“Where are our Pokemon? I thought you said you were bringing them back from Drayden’s?” Ingo asked Emmet.

“Their stay is extended for the moment. Until you heal a bit more. They are being cared for, do not worry. Drayden and Iris are still watching them.” Ingo went over the threshold, holding the wall. It was nice to be out of the hospital. Emmet came to his side again, helping him shed the jacket he wore, and helping him to their room. Their door was open.

Two beds sat on opposite sides of the room, one with white blankets and a black pillow, and the other with black blankets and a white pillow. Ingo collapsed on the black bed, sighing in contentment. His bed. It felt nice. He shed his shoes and simply sat with his eyes closed for a moment.

“I’d like to shower.”

“Are you sure?’

“Positive.” Emmet grabbed him some nightclothes and helped him into the bathroom. He had to sit in order to shower, but he would take what he needed. It was a long process to unwind the bandages leftover and ensure that he showered properly, but by the end of forty-five minutes, he was fresh and clean with new clothes on. He felt astounding.

Elesa helped him back to the couch as Emmet was busy with something in the kitchen. He sat with a thump, leaning back on the cushion. She sat next to him. “What happened to them? The ones who attacked us?” Ingo asked her.

“They were arrested. Their trial was waiting to see if you would heal. Their hearing is next week, but the evidence is pretty damning. They got it on video.” That made him shudder. Who all had seen it? He did not want to know, honestly. “Is Emmet doing better?” he asked, though he had an assumption he knew the answer.

“He barely left the hospital the entire time you were there. I ended up being the one to take your Pokemon to Drayden and make sure your apartment was kept in some semblance of order. He… he wasn’t hurt that badly by the guys, he got a black eye and some bruises, but… he’s different. He doesn’t like letting you out of his sight. Almost losing you really scared him. I don’t know how things are going to work for a while. Or if he’ll ever let you alone, again.”

Ingo nodded, thinking. “I will speak to him. I will give him time, though. I was not in a right state of mind, but he is still my brother. I will ensure he is alright.”

He did not say anything else as Emmet entered the room, with a bottle of water in his hand. He sat on the floor between the two of them, leaning his back against their legs and turning on the TV.

Something chimed softly behind him. Ingo looked up as Emmet flicked through the channels, seeing something he had not expected. “Chandelure?” He heard both of the other’s head turn as the Pokemon materialized out of thin air, floating down with a happy jingle and settling by his head, nuzzling his cheek with her glass. He chuckled. “You stowed away, didn’t you? And hid in the house, invisible. You little troublemaker.” His voice held no animosity, only fondness. She chimed again, clearly happy to see her trainer again. Ingo lifted his hand and gently guided her to his lap, allowing her to take up residence where he could pet her appropriately. She dimmed her flames, pleased with herself.

“Somehow this does not surprise me,” Emmet said.

“She is very persistent,” Ingo agreed.

Truthfully, Ingo was exhausted. He had not moved this much since the attack. He leaned on Elesa’s shoulder, allowing his eyes to drift shut as he rested his one hand on Emmet’s head, petting his hair, and the other cradled his dear partner Pokemon. He was asleep before they had even selected a show.

[Next]

taglist: @ruyi-years

#subway boss emmet #subway boss ingo #submas #subway bosses #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #my writing #pokemon elesa #tw injury #tw blood

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analogwriting · 3 months

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I love those “if you were a character in…” but I’m 100% I’d be dead in any of those worlds lmao

Heart pirates? I don’t know SHIT about medicine. Sure, my mom is a psychiatrist but it’s not like I’ll give Law prescriptions for anti depressants 😭

Kid pirates? They look like my friend group but Kid would kill me fr he would not allow my ass in that ship no matter how punk I look (which I don’t)…

Honestly my best bet is the strawhat pirates, I could be robin’s apprentice or something because I like archeology :D. This also reminds me of the time I dreamt about getting stuck in the one piece word but I didn’t understand what they were saying because they were speaking in japanese EXCEPT for Sanji who spoke in french too so I was able to communicate (i actually don’t know french in real life idk why in my dream I understood him)

- number 1 kese hater

you're so absolutely valid ongg i have a weird relationship with the ocean. like i love being in it and visiting it (i live in the midwest and have visited the ocean, like, three times) but it's vastness scares the everliving shit out of me. im in love with her but i fear her. being on a boat tho in the middle of it all???? i'd pass away. i get nervous just driving over large rivers on a bridge. i've been on a boat one time and a ferry, like, twice. scared every time lmfao and i can't even begin to tell you how many dreams about the ocean i have had. and not like, drowning or anything. just about how vast and unknown she is. ugh i love her

I only think i'd have a shot with the heart pirates because before i had to drop out of college, i was going to be a forensic pathologist, so i have a lot of science and medical knowledge in my cranium. but it's the submarine that draws the line for me. i would pass away. i would end up with cabin fever and claustrophobia and simply just pass away.

i am a shithead through and through and i'd be clowning on kid at all times. i'd be a nightmare for him. i don't give a shit who you are - i'm CLOWNING on you fr. like you really thought you could take on shanks? dumbass forreal. is it bc he's gotta have redhair superiority? like if you wanna join the red hair pirates just say so...jkjkjk (kid i still love you but NO ONE is safe from my dogging) i be roasting everyone left and right. so honestly, he'd probably HATE me. but i think he secretly just loves arguing.

gimme five minutes, i'll get you lookin punk in no time. im sure i got some patches around here somewhere to make you a vest and i've got PLENTY of eyeliner and hairspray just lemme know what era we going with lmao

i love robin so much. she's so beautiful and smart and i'd kill for her frfr. i think i could survive with the strawhats. they have a level of chaos im used to and luffy reminds me of my little sister.

i meeean more than 1/3 of the french language is the same in english, so understanding sanji makes a lot of sense. the language is also just pretty similar in general in terms of words. (i took it in hs bc i was convinced i was going to move to cambridge or smth with my pathology degree that i never ended up getting lmao)

or maybe sanji was talking to you through your dreams frfr. you guys LINKED IN FORREAL NOW

#ope i rambled my b #i wanna end up in maine honestly that's my goal #i was in co for a bit then i was in pa for a bit now im back in the midwest bc life hates me #but maine - IM COMIN FOR YA #am answers

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bitchesgetriches · 2 years

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Sailor Mercury: Soldier of Knowledge and Student Loans

Real Identity: Mizuno Ami (Amy)

Estimated Net Worth at Age 30: -$217,000.00

Key Assets: Medical degree, technology patents

Key Liabilities: Milk of human kindness

Bet you’re shocked to see Sailor Mercury here, at the very bottom of the list. It’s a stunning ranking for the hands-down smartest Senshi with the most marketable skills.

But if you think about it for even a second, it makes total sense. Ami’s goal is to become a doctor. That right there is a quarter mil in student loans. There are plenty of people who go on to practice medicine and make up this incredible debt with incredible earning potential. But Ami is just not the private practice type! She would totally work at a low-income community medical center, or join Doctors Without Borders.

All while living in Tokyo, one of the most expensive cities on the planet. And with social anxiety like hers, does anyone think Ami’s down to split expenses with any roommate other than Luna?

SAILOR MERCURY IS BROKE.

Search your heart. You know that I am right.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whEn5VD-wK0

Sailor Venus: Soldier of Love and Lifestyle Creep

Real Identity: Aino Minako (Mina)

Estimated Net Worth at Age 30: -$23,000.00

Key Assets: Dual citizenship, charm

Key Liabilities: Expansive definition of “self care”

Her dream is to be an idol. More like “be idle,” amirite?

The Japanese idol industry molds a single person into a model/singer/actor/social media influencer. A glut of eager young girls makes competition fierce, and their shelf-life is incredibly short. They’re not considered serious actors or musicians, so even if V succeeded, her future is uncertain.

Like so many hopeful models, Minako would end up spending a small fortune on clothes, makeup, styling, treatments, and transportation just to get noticed and find work. She’d pay it back eventually by getting a job in PR, but she’ll always be the type to live just outside her means.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukbmHzDFB7A

Sailor Moon: Soldier of Justice and Overdraft Fees

Real Identity: Tsukino Usagi (Serena)

Estimated Net Worth at Age 30: -$40.00

Key Assets: Future queen of Earth

Key Liabilities: Inability to count, married to serial rose waster

There’s no nice way to say it. Usagi may be a pretty soldier who fights in the name of the moon, but she is also dumb as a pile of poorly-folded towels. There are numerous instances of observational Usagi-humor centered around the fact that she can barely read or write in her native language.

On the one hand, I want to give Usagi a pass. She’s a messianic figure who’s saved the world multiple times. But she is such a stone-cold dumbass I cannot imagine a financial future that doesn’t involve extensive petty debts.

Usagi is more of a homebody, so I don’t picture her spending as carelessly as Minako. But her flighty personality would constantly lead to overdraft fees, late fines, and short-lived associations with MLMs. Thankfully, Tuxedo Mask is loaded. I’m sure he’ll bail her out of any physically or financially dangerous situation.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcYNoSRZCBg

Sailors Uranus & Neptune: Soldiers of the Skies, Deep Waters, and Shady Lesbian Cabals

Real Identities: Tenoh Haruka (Amara) & Kaiou Michiru (Michelle)

Estimated Net Worth at Age 30: $0.00, or rather n/a

Key Assets: Fast cars, musical talent, “patrons”

Key Liabilities: Systemic campaign of attempted becousining, trying to raise this baby right

Haruka and Michiru don’t have any money, but they also don’t need any money. They seem to exist in some kind of roving pocket dimension where money has no meaning.

These two would walk into a coffee shop, order something extremely sophisticated, and then look at the barista like she was gauche for ringing them up. And it would work. Cashier-girl would be too busy stammering and blushing to stop them from strolling out again.

Haruka and Michiru walk into da clerb and—oops, all the straight women are now gay, and all the gay women have switched from liking butch/femme to femme/butch. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.

There’s a vague answer to the source of their inexhaustible old money. “We have patrons,” Haruka says. No one, inside or outside of the continuity, knows what the fuck this means. But it does remind me to thank our Patreon supporters! Soldiers of Good Taste and Philanthropy, every single one of you!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2JA7KBGoC_8

Sailor Saturn: Soldier of Death and Lost Wages

Real Identity: Tomoe Hotaru (Hotaru)

Estimated Net Worth at Age 30: $630.00

Key Assets: Partially cybernetic, destroyer of worlds, a demon lives in her soul

Key Liabilities: Seizures, spontaneous age changes, a demon lives in her soul

Due to circumstances with which I’m sure we’re all very familiar, Sailor Saturn would actually only be eighteen years old at age thirty, as she was reborn as an infant at age twelve. And high school kids ain’t known for their amazing wealth.

That said, she’s pretty circumspect. I bet she saves that thruple-mom allowance.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GAE14PnFNU

Sailor Jupiter: Soldier of Thunder and Etsy

Real Identity: Kino Makoto (Lita)

Estimated Net Worth at Age 30: $210,000.00

Key Assets: Dead parents, entrepreneurship

Key Liabilities: none

Makoto’s parents died in a plane crash. Given how rare such deaths are, I’m assuming she got a healthy settlement out of it. She’s super into classically girly stuff like gardening, baking, interior decoration, and handicrafts. Her dream is to open her own small business, along the lines of a bakery or flower shop. So, Etsy.

Honestly, Mako-chan’s living that coveted FIRE lifestyle. She’s monetizing her hobbies because she loves them, not because she needs to. She has plenty of cushion to fall back on. GOOD FOR YOU, JUPZ!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1L86EpboH8A

Sailor Mars: Soldier of Fire and Misandry

Real Identity: Hino Rei (Raye)

Estimated Net Worth at Age 30: $800,000.00

Key Assets: Great education, precognition, hates men

Key Liabilities: none

Fun fact: Rei’s estranged father is a powerful politician. I feel like Rei sending hate-vibes to someone for thirty years would be enough for them to just fall down and die, so I’m assuming she’s inherited a small fortune by this point.

This girl is a real dragon. I cannot picture her struggling with money. But if she ever did, her ability to see into the future means there’s an endless supply of easy yen to make down at the racetrack. This girl is set for life, yo.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqP8t1lC2p4

Sailor Chibimoon: Soldier of Spoiled Brats

Real Identity: Usagi Small Lady Serenity Tsukino, or just Chibiusa (Rini)

Estimated Net Worth at Age 30: $1,900,000,000.00

Key Assets: Parents are the King and Queen of Earth

Key Liabilities: Is everybody’s least favorite, has verrrry complicated ideas about fatherhood, can’t get an ID because no one at the DMV believes her actual given name is Small Lady

I know, I know, I knocked Usagi for being a cheap queen. But Usagi eventually becomes the ageless and all-powerful Neo Queen Serenity, and runs the whole damn Earth for a thousand years from her seat in Crystal Tokyo. I am sure that sometime in that timeframe, she figured out how to buy herself some stocks.

That makes Chibiusa the only child of the Queen and King of the Earth. Hell yes she’s richer than sin! Kinda explains her consistently atrocious attitude.

Do not try to tell me that there isn’t some kind of ATM inside of Luna-P.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8n3OTifgCVA

Sailor Pluto: Soldier of Space-Time and House Hacking

Real Identity: Meioh Setsuna (Trista)

Estimated Net Worth at Age 30: $∞

Key Assets: No expenses of any kind, exists in infinity, very stable job

Key Liabilities: Key real estate recently demoted to non-planetary status

Sailor Pluto is the keeper of the Gate of Time and Space. She does not eat. She does not sleep. And she sure as fuck don’t pay no goddamn rent!

Consider the financial ramifications of living in infinity, with the ability to travel freely to any point in known history and back again. She’s not allowed to leave her post, but it doesn’t matter because she can also exist in multiple places and times all at once. She is also not allowed to travel through time herself, upon pain of death. But it turns out that pain of death isn’t that much pain when you can infinitely reincarnate.

I’m considering this the ultimate house hack. Buy a house, rent it out, phase in and out of the forth dimension, and boom: you’re a quadrillionaire!

Don’t argue with me. Puu-chan is loaded on a cosmic and indefinable level.

#Sailor Moon #sailor scouts #Sailor Mercury #Sailor Venus #Sailor Uranus #Sailor Neptune #Sailor Saturn #Sailor Jupiter #Sailor Mars #Sailor Chibimoon #Sailor Pluto #personal finance #technically

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tielt · 10 months

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Gaslight NPD, when people with NPD tell you that you have NPD while trying to inflict their specific environment as an only option while gaslighting that they are doing that.

I’m forced into the act of acting like everything revolves around me, while they assume as the people with the power in the relationship like it’s all my fault. How many ways do you have to be asked to not.

Yes I like being a toy and have a praise kink. I’m totally able to act independently of social forces insularly and introspect; it’s autism. If you aren’t introspective ever, you have NPD. I learned this on TikTok because some dumbass doctor guessed wrong I have to deconstruct without a medical degree. Everyone can see this. I have plenty problems, NPD is not one of them. They aren’t looking for justice they are looking for closure and I’m their literal open wound.

Yeah I just fixed a problem this week, but there are still people loaded up on their bullshit like it’s something that is my problem. I basically have to assume people that work with them are bad people because they act like bad people even though I’d rather not.

Nothing to do with the latest adds, I’m just saying I’m tired of some specific types of behaviors and for obvious reasons. I shouldn’t need to research the few disorders I don’t have to just have space from these people. Who is making these decisions, how could they possibly benefit either party? Long term? Stop listening to them or mediate like actual human beings.

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unheavenlybody · 2 years

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hi i ended up writing an entire essay while trying to vent so feel free to ignore:

its frustrating that there's no way to talk candidly about mental health problems without the looming fear of forced institutionalization, at least in my case. people trying to force medication on you. wellness obsessed fitness people recommend you start doing yoga and “clean eating” and only using certified nontoxic products and adopting a more positive mindset and ~recognizing your inner magic~ or whatever even though no one asked (literally a dig at my sister LMAO). so much of it just seems self righteous and self congratulatory and devoid of any genuine compassion or understanding for people’s unique circumstances??? recognizing that a lot of life is just hard and miserable and sometimes its ok to just sit with that??

i hate the idea of some dude with a degree from whatever ivy at my school’s counseling department keeping a record of everything i say which can potentially be used against me even tho its supposed to be confidential. treating me like a fragile baby bird but also slicing our meetings in half and arriving late and leaving me to fend for myself after asking me to dig up buried trauma and then offering no support for the next two weeks other than “i understand, that must be hard.” recommending we look into a psychotherapist during our next meeting, which i cant even afford, and then not following through. repeatedly tiptoeing around the question of whether i have suicidal thoughts and if so how severe, like, my guy, i 100% wouldnt tell you that in a million years. even if it’s true.

i'm caught between recognizing that a healthy diet and exercise and enriching hobbies and social connection are necessary parts of getting better, but people seem to conveniently forget that these aren’t equally accessible options for everyone. and even if i maintain all of these things, will it be enough to keep me here? i just don't understand the impulse to shame people for not trying “hard enough” when it’s so easy to neglect these things if you don’t have money, adequate resources, or emotional support. not everyone was born to be entirely self sufficient (is anyone really, lol?) but grindset wellness fuckers will have you convinced you’re just an undisciplined weak-willed piece of trash and simply need to become more like them. or at the very least get medicated and stop complaining. but can you prioritize a healthy organic diet if you barely have enough money to scrape by as it is, when understandably cheap fast foods are one of the only things that still bring you comfort that you can regularly afford? how can you safely exercise in a way that's both sustainable and enjoyable if you can't afford a gym membership or exercise equipment and live somewhere that neglects public parks or is highly polluted and congested? or if you have chronic pain or fatigue and can’t get treatment for it because your dumbass country doesnt think universal healthcare is a human right? you can’t even maintain certain hobbies and especially long term relationships unless you have money for outings and some means of reliable transportation (which in the US obviously means having a car). how can you get out of an abusive or hazardous living situation when the resources that do exist are often underfunded, discriminatory, or exploitative themselves? when you have no one else to depend on? everything is increasingly designed to strip you of any opportunity at having a happy fulfilling life and maybe some people are just less equipped to deal with this reality. maybe i am weak lol. or they see through the bullshit and can’t bring themselves to care anymore.

like yeah i know that’s not a great mindset to have, and you should still try to find joy in life, but most days i can't help but feel that I am trying to get better by exercising or eating healthy or allowing myself to love things all for nothing. like maybe ive already been robbed of a healthy, happy life by circumstance and i could try to exhaust myself further by insisting things can and will get better when maybe realistically they won't in the way i want them to. i dont know how to end this i just wish it was easier to talk about with someone lol sorry for the essay byeeee

#this post sounds so aggressive i am just in a Mood

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domorebemore · 1 year

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college application deadlines are coming up i guess i better at least try and see what happens. tbh i’d rather go to an acting/music-focused conservatory type school bc i never functioned well in a school setting and most of my reason for wanting to go back to college is to pursue my Entertainment Career which you do not need to go to school for. but i feel like it’s the best excuse to leave my town again? like oh i’m moving for school not because i’m a dumbass who thinks she’s going to wait tables until she randomly gets discovered at her job like it’s the fucking 1940′s.

another part of it is because i feel like people think i’m stupid because i don’t have a college degree. which is crazy because i know so many people who have like. masters degrees who say the dumbest shit of all time. in fact most of the people who say stupid shit are people who spent most of their lives in school. which makes sense to me because it’s like oh you only have academic knowledge you know nothing about the real world. BUT it’s hard to not internalize that. and i wish i were better at school. as an adult i realize i miss learning and the structure of being in class or whatever even though i hated it so much as a kid/teen/college student. and i’d probably hate it again. but i wish i didn’t i wish i liked school.

really this all boils down to getting treated for ADHD which would not be hard. but for some reason i’m way too embarrassed to talk to my psychiatrist about it because i’ve been lying for years just saying everything is okay and my medications are working (they aren’t). like how do i say i’ve been lying my life is a wreck and my mom has known i’ve had ADD since i was in 3rd grade but didn’t do anything about it and my last therapist told me to get checked for it and i’ve been misdiagnosed several times because i haven’t brought it up to anyone

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duck-in-a-spaceship · 1 year

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say it back: Chapter 4

Ayyy we made it to the end folks, and you know what that means: It's time to find out who wins our dumbass game of gay chicken. Place your bets now!

Summary: What if when House tells Wilson he loves him, Wilson says it back?

Well, naturally they turn to humor until “I love you”, “I love you too” becomes the most convoluted, gayest inside joke ever. And then of course they realize they mean it.

Word Count: 1607

Warnings: None

<<Previous

+++

Chapter 4: Off-Script

House runs into Wilson.

It’s not his fault. He simply wasn’t expecting his best friend to be lurking just around the corner like the world’s worst Halloween decoration. Yet Wilson’s there all the same, awkwardly steadying House so he doesn’t fall over, grabbing onto his arms before disaster strikes.

House stares at him, mentally recalibrating. His face is surprisingly close to Wilson’s, and the idea half-forms into his mind to say those words again. Just to fuck with him.

Instead he blinks, and swats Wilson’s hands away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shhhhh,” Wilson hisses, swatting the air like he can bat away House’s words. He cranes his neck to look around House, spying out for Cuddy, probably. Once her absence has been confirmed, he looks back down. “What am I doing?” he repeats incredulously. House notes that he hasn’t stopped whispering, stupidly enough. “What are you doing?”

“Didn’t you hear? I’m having sex with you!” House raises his voice, and Wilson gets halfway through shushing him again before he seems to realize that it’s a pointless endeavor. He’s right.

Instead, he runs a worried hand through his hair, doing a little spin before he faces House again. “That- that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Cuddy thinks we’re dating right now.”

House nods, eyebrows knitting together in mock concern. “Yeah, I’m sure I’m the one that gave her that impression. Not the guy that kissed me. Wait, maybe I have that backwards…” He starts to walk off as he talks, heading for his office, which was exactly what Wilson would be doing if he actually wanted privacy. Wilson immediately trails after him, seamlessly continuing their conversation.

“Alright, fine, but I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking.” A sideways glance over at Wilson reveals that he’s gone red again, as if the sudden stuttering wasn’t enough of a clue. He points an accusatory finger at House. “You, on the other hand, you’re always thinking. You have intent and agendas and manipulations.”

“Is your argument really that you accidentally kissed me? That’s the best you got?” Sometimes House wonders how he, who got his degree in Lying, Trickery and Deceit at Harvard, was friends with Wilson, who shared every secret he’d ever been told, very often including his own.

“That’s… not what I said.”

“So then you’re just arguing it’s my fault you kissed me.” House punches the button to the elevator with his thumb, leaning against the wall. “You know, Wilson, it’s important to take responsibility for your actions.”

Wilson sighs heavily. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re the one that started this when you started parading around in front of Cuddy.”

The doors to the elevator slide open, and they wait for its occupants to shuffle out before stepping in to fill the space.

“What do you care, anyway?” House asks once they’re in the elevator, doors safely shut in front of them. “Half the hospital thinks we’ve been doin’ it since we’ve both been here.”

“They- what?”

“Uh duh.” House makes a show of leaning in towards Wilson, punctuating his point. “Are you- and I have to ask this for medical reasons- fucking blind.”

Wilson huffs, refusing to meet House’s eyes and instead looking around the elevator, clearly frustrated. He doesn’t talk again until the doors slide open and they step out into the hall. House silently notices that Wilson doesn’t even make an attempt to turn towards his own office, not even subconsciously. He just follows House into the next set of doors.

“Well why don’t you care? Do you- do you want them to think we’re..?” He trails off, making a vague set of gestures that House knows he should be interpreting as dirty, but he honestly can’t figure out how.

“Fixing a car engine?” he guesses instead.

“No, not that. What? Y’know…” Wilson trails off again, before apparently summoning the courage for what he has to suggest. “Doin’ it.”

“Oh that. I thought that was a wrench and- Nevermind.” House waves a dismissive hand through the hair, smiling at his own pretend naivete. Then he shrugs. “I mean, maybe I do. You know, near death experiences really change people. Maybe I’m gay now.” He approaches his desk, but lingers off to the side instead of sitting down. It’s not like it’s his first time sitting at it since he almost died, but it would be the first with Wilson present. House decides to stand.

Wilson points at him, suddenly triumphant. “So you did see something!”

Oh goddamnit. House pinches two fingers together, holding them up in front of his face. “Little bit.”

“What?” Wilson presses immediately, leaving no room for hesitation. “What did you see, House?”

In a sweeping motion, House gestures across the entire room. “I saw this. Well, sort of. There was a different differential on the board, nice white void outside, you were-” His cane taps against the side of Wilson’s leg. “-a little more to the right.”

Wilson doesn't move. He looks up at House. “I was there?”

“I’m about to reveal the secrets of the afterlife to you, and you want to know about yourself?”

“Well sorry I don’t have more questions about the white void. What happened, House?”

House shrugs, as if it was a question hardly worth answering. “Exactly what you’d expect. You wanted to know what the hell was wrong with me, I hit you with my cane, you called me an idiot.” He half turns to his desk, smacking one hand against the back of the chair. “Then we made out, right here.”

Wilson chuckles, half turning away from him and shaking his head. “You know, if you’re just going to lie to me, we don’t have to do this.”

There’s not much to say to that. House raises an eyebrow.

Wilson falters, his eyes suddenly going wide. “Wait, really?” House nods. “You-? We? Right there?” Another nod. Wilson presses a hand against his forehead, reeling from the shock.

“And for the record, you kissed me.”

“Dream me kissed you,” Wilson corrects, but he sounds absentminded. He turns back to House. “I mean was it… was I…?” he trails off, once again waiting for House to finish his sentence, or simply infer his meaning and continue the conversation from there. House refuses. “What did you think?”

“Seven out of ten.”

“Seven?”

“Are you offended because that’s too high or too low? Because I’m just being honest, and honestly you were a little too-”

“Is that why you said it?” Wilson’s dropped his hand from his head, dropped the sudden shock. He’s just standing there, looking at House. When there’s no response, he takes a couple steps forwards, closing the gap between them. House has the urge to sit down. “After you woke up, when I was getting you more pain meds and you said- you said you loved me. Was that the meds or was that…?”

He trails off again, but this time House couldn’t finish his sentence, even if he tried. Was that because of the near death experience? Because he kissed Wilson, in some version, in some way? Because he really meant it?

“Yeah,” House says.

“I love you.”

House leans against the desk, points his cane at Wilson. “That’s my line.”

Wilson shrugs, breaks eye contact. “Maybe it’s time we go off script.”

There’s a lot he could say to that, too much, actually. Possibilities spiderweb off in House’s mind, overwhelmingly vast, overwhelmingly vital. There’s no audience, there’s no jokes, there’s no game, there’s no performance, there’s not even a script, not anymore. The curtains are closed, they’re sitting backstage.

There’s just Wilson, standing far too close and not close enough, hopelessly and hopefully genuine.

“I love you too.”

Wilson steps forwards again, enough that they’re standing toe-to-toe, that their faces could be pressed together if either of them had the willpower for it. Wilson stares at him with that sort of careful curiosity he so often possesses around House. It’s the look he always gives him when House comes barging into his office, utters the first insane words of a sentence, and Wilson has to figure out where he’s going to go next.

House had never realized it, but apparently it’s the look Wilson likes to give people before he kisses them, too.

The kiss is gentler than Fake Wilson’s had been, or at the very least more hesitant.

There’s a hand on House’s face again, holding him like it thinks one of them might break. His lips are soft, softer than the fake’s, softer than House had been able to imagine, apparently.

He reaches out and grabs Wilson’s waist, curling his fingers into one of his belt loops, pulling him close so he can deepen the kiss, can cast aside some of that gentleness.

Wilson gives in for just a moment, lets House pull him closer, presses harder against his lips, right before he pulls away entirely.

It’s over a moment too soon, this time House is certain.

And sure, he gets it. They’re in a room with walls made of glass, afterall, and just a couple of minutes ago Wilson had been getting antsy about a kiss on the cheek.

House is still mourning the fact that they’re both wearing clothes, but he gets it.

“We should go off script more often,” House suggests.

Wilson laughs, that small chuckle he loves to indulge in around House, the one where his head dips down a little and his eyes crinkle with humor. "Well, we never were very good at having a social contract."

Then he’s kissing House again, and, yeah, he could get used to this.

Point to Wilson.

#house md #greg house #james wilson #hilson #house md fanfic #writing #my writing #fanfic #this chapter is a little all over the place ngl #but thats fiiiiiine #we're just here to have a good time #also i rlly like how the dialogue turned out #theyre so fun #silly little guys

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chetungwan · 2 years

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15 and/or 85

Well chosen... “I’d kill for a coffee…literally.” and “I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor.” Now, maybe both of these scenes contain wounds that should be shown to a doctor, but in only one case is there a character who is willing to say it.

Also, I'm working on the other prompt. It feels like a Murderbot thing, but... it's demonstrably not bulletproof

-------

Clint blinked at her like trying to figure out what he was looking at.

"I said," Kate said delicately, "your stitches are broken and you're bleeding on the counter."

Clint kept blinking stupidly and started mouthing the word stitches.

Kate gave up on delicate. Reaching over, she jabbed him in the side and said, "Move the fuck over, dumbass."

He obediently toppled over all the way onto the floor. "Ow."

"I'm not sorry," she informed him. "Get those fixed."

"Noooooo, coffee," groaned the pathetic pile on the floor. "Coffee first. I'd kill for a coffee, literally."

"That'd mean getting up," Kate cheerfully informed him.

"... Fuck."

Ibex huffed, breathing out the pain and pasting on an approximation of a smug grin. "You're not being very sympathetic to me."

Cass didn't even look up from the plasma burn they were smearing something onto. "I'm not going to be symptomatic until you go to a doctor."

"Don't you count, my dear?" Ibex leaned his head back, feeling his grin stretch into more of a grimace as he clenched his teeth.

"I'm a medic, Ibex," they spoke in a distracted mutter, "I never actually got a degree."

"In that case, get off of me."

"I'd fucking love to, if you'd go to a damn doctor about it."

Ibex stared up at the ceiling. "No. No, this is fine."

#the first one isn't as good because im in pain and tired but i still stand by the characters chosen #asked #intearsaboutrobots #my fic #Hawkeye #okay this looks bad #counter/weight #ibex/cass

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awkwarddragon22 · 1 year

Text

Guess who’s the dumbass who forgot call in for refills on their medication for sleep and PTSD-related nightmares and is now bombarded with said nightmares of PTSD every time they could their eyes and has to wake up shivering in fear of someone out to get them and do the things that caused said PTSD? This guy right hereeee.

I’m such a dumbass. Been super busy with work and life at home hasn’t exactly been great. I can escape with video games, music, and being online talking to friends whenever possible; But they can only help so much. Without this medication, my nightmares come back in full force. Sometimes very intense, others not quite as intense but still very terrifying as I’m reminded of my PTSD over and over again.

Sorry to sound negative and I will probably delete this in a few hours if I doesn’t forget, but I’m legitimately angry at myself for forgetting to do something so easy. ADHD (executive dysfunction) sucks sometimes. This is one of those times. Again, very sorry for the sad post being my second post on Tumblr. Going try and head back to sleep before I get up for work at 9 AM. It’s 4:34 AM as I’m typing this and I’m trying my hardest not to shake from the intense, horrifying nightmare I had.

To avoid anyone getting triggered, I won’t talk about the dream publicly. It's very traumatic and it involved my biggest PTSD and the most frequent one I suffered from late childhood and almost throughout adolescence to varying degrees. I'm okay, don't worry! Sorry for the post, but this dream was absolutely terrifying and it's taking so much to calmly type this without violently shaking and crying so my parents can hear me. They need their sleep and so do I.

#ptsd problems #nightmare #tw csa implied

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fizzymilkduds · 2 years

Text

Where The Boys Are - Egon Spengler x Reader (Part 2 of 3)

Hi everyone! After adding more detail to this, part 2 is here! I was so happy with all the feedback you all had in the first part and it truly made me so excited to continue with the series. Part 3 will not be out for a little while, with the New Year and an eventual return to university. I would expect it to be complete within the following week, if not the one after.

Warnings: None, I think!

Word Count: 2672

You stirred the cup of coffee you just made, thinking about last night’s revelation at the club. You were in love with Egon yet your wish to be together is intangible. Venting to Peter and Janine helped you more than you expected; the weight on your shoulders is finally gone, though a pang remained in your heart. Sure, it was easier to manage sober, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt anymore. You decided you’d stick to acting the same way you always have, as you didn’t want to bring attention to yourself from the men who literally have degrees in understanding how people act and behave.

From drinking and crying, your head was pounding. No matter how much water and medication you took, it wouldn’t go away. Alas, there was work to be done at the firehouse, which would not wait for hangovers to disappear. Your work, apart from catching ghosts, involved working down in the lab with Egon to assist with his experiments. Coffee would not be a good idea for you as it would more than likely worsen your headache. Instead, this coffee was for the Doctor himself. Despite leaving the party well into the early hours of the morning, he still allowed himself only 14 minutes of sleep before continuing with his duties. You offered to make him something, which he kindly accepted.

You shuffled your way towards the stairs, preventing the coffee for Egon and your own hot chocolate from spilling onto your hands and burning them. As you reached the landing, you could hear Janine arguing with someone on the phone.

“Sir,” Janine huffed, fingers pinching her nose bridge. “Two of our members are stuck in a blizzard and we cannot risk the others’ safety.” After a moment of silence, she rolled her eyes at the voice at the other end of the call. “Calm down, will you? I’ll try and book you in for the next available appointment after the snow isn’t a danger to anyone.” Realistically, Janine was probably not going to do that; since the Ghostbusters rose to fame, their schedules have been full non-stop. There’s no way she would re-arrange their calendars for a single man. “Goodbye.”

The cream-coloured phone was placed back on the receiver with a soft click. She gently snorted before standing to stretch her limbs, letting out a big yawn. “Another call giving you a tough time?” you walked down the stairs, hissing quietly as a drop of the drink spilt onto your knuckle. So much for being careful. Janine nodded her head, allowing her lack of sleep to take over with a large sigh. “Is the coffee for me?” Hoping it to be true, she meekly batted her eyelashes at you as a weak attempt to sway you. “No,” you chuckled, batting your eyelashes back at her jokingly. “Egon and I have been slaving over the proton pack improvements for hours, so I’m getting him something to have a break.” Ever since you joined the team, you’ve gone through hoops to ensure everybody has been getting their proper breaks and rests. More so Egon than others since he’s known to overwork himself.

Suddenly, Peter arrived with bags of Chinese takeaway, holding them close to his body for the warmth they give. The tip of his nose was glowing red, his hair damp with melting snowflakes. He allowed himself to rest against the open door to relish in the heat of the indoors, whilst also allowing it to flow outside. You know, like a dumbass. “The one time I offer to get takeout, I get caught in the middle of a blizzard. I will no longer offer to do good things for you all.” He huffs and sniffs. Roast duck, Kung po chicken, Singapore style noodles, fried rice and who knows what else all make a delicious aroma that leaves your mouth watering. You yelped as the bitter air reached you. “It’s so cold outside!” You’d wrap your cardigan further around your torso, but your hands are busy. “Wow,” he rolled his eyes at your comment, clearly unimpressed. “What a very attentive observation, Y/N. You know, I myself, despite being outside until this very moment, didn’t realise that.” “Peter, close the damn door!” Janine was vigorously rubbing her arms to recover the body heat that was being sapped away from her.

“Alright, alright.” Finally, he closed the door, letting the room heat up once again. He looked around in vague confusion. He could see you and Janine, obviously, and he could hear Egon tinkering downstairs. “I’m guessing the genius is in the lab working, but where’s Winston and Ray? Don’t tell me they’re trapped at their call.” “Yeah,” Janine huffed, “It was a serious ghost apparently, and Ray said he’d rather capture it before it was too dangerous.”

Earlier this morning, they received a call about a very aggressive spirit that was throwing books and small objects around. Ray concluded that if they didn’t go there as soon as possible, then it wouldn’t be long until the owners of the home would be injured. Given that the owners had just had a baby, he was willing to risk his safety for the family.

“Well, given this weather we aren’t doing any more jobs today.” Peter eyed the bags he was holding hungrily. “If you need me, I’ll be eating my portion of the food and then immediately going to bed. I am going to hibernate like a bear.” “Promise me you won’t touch my spring rolls!” You pouted. “Last time you ate all of mine before you even got here.” “What?” Peter feigned shock; a hand pressed against his chest. “I’d never do that to you Y/N. You’re my favourite broad in this city!” “So, Dana’s not your favourite anymore?” You raised your eyebrow, eager to mess with him. “Well,” Peter flashed a smile, eager to mess with you in return. “Dana is my favourite beautiful lady. She’d take offence to being called a broad.” “Oh, so I’m not beautiful?” you piped up, making your way to the lab. “I know I’m not the Ghostbuster you want to get compliments from.” Knowing you were in a better mood than the night before, Peter let himself slip out the joke as he sauntered upstairs into the kitchen. Janine held back her laugh as she saw you slink down to the basement in embarrassment, mumbling an excuse about cold coffee. “Wait, Y/N, before you go!” You peaked your head above the bannister, waiting for Peter to continue. “Yes?” “I still can’t believe how flustered you got when Winston told you about Egon’s slime experiment. Who’d have known you’d discover kinks on the job?”

This time, Janine was unable to hold back. Her contagious laugher radiated through the firehouse, eliciting your own in response. You do vaguely remember Winston telling you jokes on the way home from the club last night to cheer you up. But you distinctly remember that particular anecdote and how it stirred a range of emotions within you. Were you embarrassed? Sure, but you cannot deny the truth Peter put forward, not that you’d ever let him or anyone else know. You composed yourself, giggling once more. “Right, I really have to give this to Egon before it gets cold.” Meekly, you went back down the stairs, finally getting away from the teasing, even in only for a while. Chuckling, Peter disappeared from your sight, making his way up to the kitchen.

Silence fell upon the firehouse once more before the phone began to ring again. Janine took no time to pick up. “Ghostbusters, what do you need?” Holding a pen in hand, she waited for the potential client to describe their encounter. “Oh, you’re the guy who called earlier. Listen I already-” Her eyes widened in surprise “Shut up, no way. I’m not hearing you correctly. You’ll pay $1.2 million?”

Peter practically flew down the stairs, curious about the conversation. “$1.2 million?!” he cried. Janine waved her hand to quieten Peter, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Y-yes, sir, I have Dr Venkman here; I’ll discuss it with him. Please give us a moment.”

Her chair spun around to face Peter, unable to hide the smile on her face. “It’s the owner of The Bond Hotel! He said he would pay $1.2 million for the bust. Not only that, but he’s also offering a room for the Ghostbusters to spend the night in.” Janine fiddled with the cord between her fingers for a moment, a distant look in her eyes. Suddenly, Peter’s voice cut through the air. “Janine, I think the time has come to initiate our plan.” His eyes flicked over to the basement stairs, a devious glint accompanying them. Janine’s head tilted in confusion, “Now? They can’t get far in this cold without Ecto! Hey, what are you-” Peter leapt over the desk to grab the receiver from Janine.

“Good evening, my good Sir! Dr Venkman speaking.” Peter jumped back onto the floor, brushing out the small wrinkles in his shirt to appear more professional, even though he isn’t visible. Again, he’s a dumbass. “We here are absolutely delighted at your kind payment. Due to unforeseen circumstances, Dr Stantz and Mr Zeddemore will be unable to assist you with your ghostly needs. However, Dr Spengler and our recent recruit are available to scout out that pesky ghost for you. Just one thing though,” Looking at Janine, he gave her a sneaky wink, to which she rolled her eyes. “Is it possible for you to give us the most lavish, expensive room you have? Perhaps a honeymoon suite? You know, with the demanding work on the body and the weight of the proton packs, we do need our beauty sleep afterwards and I assume the suite has the best mattress for the job. Ah, magnificent. They’ll come by as soon as possible, where they will ask further questions on the apparition.” With that, he hung up the phone and had the plan set in motion.

“Venkman, you’re insane! The plan was for you and Dana to go on a double date with Y/N and Egon and then ditch them, so they’d be alone!” She stage-whispered. “Also, it’s too cold for them to walk all the way to the hotel!”

“Eh, it’s only 5 or so blocks away, they won’t die.” Janine gave Peter a deadpan look, not impressed with the reasoning at all. “Janine, think of it this way. We’ll get $1.2 million, AND the sexual tension between those two nerds will finally be gone! God, I’m such a genius!” He ran his hands through his hair and smiled madly, slamming the alarm button before running up the stairs. “Hey, I won’t let you get the bragging rights for setting them up. I took the phone call!”

---------

Egon was quickly scribbling in the margins of his previous notes and annotating diagrams. The gentle humming and buzzing of the equipment in the room acted as white noise, lulling Egon into a state of calm. Next to him on the desk were your two proton packs, which required a reshuffling of all the other equipment and reams of paper to have space to put them down. It was a messy workspace, but it was the type of mess where things were easy to find. Besides, only Egon, Ray and you ever really needed to find something down here. But more recently, you and Egon have been working together since you noticed a detail in the proton pack design that could be adapted, to which Egon was more than happy to help you.

Throughout your careers together, he has grown to sentimentalise you. It’s only natural that as human beings, you nurture and care for those around you; it’s how the species has survived for so long. However, this connection and urge to care for you as a friend has grown far more than Egon could have expected. Since holding your hand yesterday, he couldn’t focus properly on anything. The warmth that radiated from you went straight to his core, adding fuel to the fire he already had in his heart for you. Egon, once able to put aside this feeling for so long, was no longer to ignore it since yesterday and, much like yourself, was unsure what to do. He had theories, but he didn’t want to test them for the fear of losing your friendship.

Out of the corner of his vision, a ceramic mug slid into view. The steam rising from the drink began to fog his glasses, causing the person next to him to laugh. He could recognise that laugh anywhere, as he often tries to get that noise to come from you. “Hi, Egon!” you smiled, holding your cup with both hands. “I’m back with your coffee. You’ve been working super hard today and you need a break.” Your heart may be in ruins, but that won’t stop you from treating Egon with the care you’ve always shown him. “Thank you, Y/N.” His baritone voice saying your name made you yearn for him more. “But I’m so close to coming up with a breakthrough on our theory. I don’t want to stop now.” He gently removed his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his jumper. A glassless Egon was a rare, but very welcome sight. With or without them, he looks incredibly sweet and charming. Still, you tame your thoughts, taking a moment to humble yourself.

You take a seat next to him, in your usual spot. Looking at him, you sip on your hot chocolate and nod at his statement. “Ok then,” you pretended to look upset. “I guess I’ll just have to eat these twinkies all by myself.” Digging into your cardigan pockets, you toss 4 twinkies onto Egon’s notes. “I got these thinking of you.” A small smirk appeared on your face as you saw a gleam in his eyes. He licked his lips, deciding to go along with your offer after all. “Maybe I can help you with those. A single twinkie has 62% of your daily sugar allowance. Four of those cannot be good for you.” “Oh yeah? Well, that’s ironic coming from you, Dr Spengler.” You slowly took a bite from said sweet, the creamy filling making you wonder, is that what his kisses would taste like? “Do as I say, not as I do.” He smirked back towards you, deeply enjoying how you bring a side of him that he fights to suppress.

Before he even got the chance to sink his teeth into the twinkie he was holding, the firehouse alarm began to blare, making the both of you jump out of your seats.

Egon pushed his glasses back onto his face, quickly changing from his ribbing mood into a more serious one. As he runs up every third step, you were quickly behind him, wondering why on earth a call was accepted, especially when two of your team members were snowed in at another bust. Egon looked at Janine, expecting her to fill the both of you in on the call. Janine looked as if she was a doe caught in headlights, but she quickly covered it up with her signature deadpan stare. “The Bond Hotel. Only you two have to go.” “What? But there’s a blizzard outside!” you proclaimed in disbelief, eyeing Janine as if she lost her head. “We can’t go there, we’ll die!” Egon nodded in agreement, “It is not the smartest idea for us to walk outside in the negative temperatures. We could potentially get hypothermia.” His eyes quickly shifted to you, more concern for you than himself. “He said he’d pay us 1.2 million.” She looked at the both of you above her glass’ frame, knowing how your minds would change quickly.

Your eyes widened in shock. For that amount of money, you would do anything. Well, mostly anything. You turned to face Egon, a look of determination on your face. “Let’s get changed and go.”

Tag List: @thisbuildingshouldbecondemned @spenglers-spectacles

Finding the perfect hotel for this was a nightmare. It had to be close enough to the location of the firehouse, whilst also keeping true to the history of the ’80s. As most of the grand hotels are around Central Park, it was a real goose chase. I could easily come up with a fake hotel, but to me, it just wouldn’t feel right to ignore what’s already there. This hotel is the oldest running one in NY. It opened up in 1845 as The Gerard House, before its next change into The Bond Hotel in the ’80s. Most recently, it became known as the Cosmopolitan Hotel before, again, being rebranded into the Frederick Hotel in 2017. From what little I could find, I hope this makes sense lmao.

#egon spengler x reader #ghostbusters #where the boys are #egon x reader #egon x you #egon spengler x you

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skywalkerstyles · 3 years

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The Scorpion and The Frog(Yandere!Villain!Bakugou x reader)

Warnings: yandere! Bakugou, villain!Bakugou, crime, mentions of murder, mind games, therapy sessions, taunting

You were so nervous you were shaking. Of all the things that could have happened on your first day at Jaku Medical Center, you had to get the case file for Katsuki Bakugou.

The notorious villain, King Explosion Murder.

He’d finally been caught, after years of terrorizing civilians, Pro Heroes Deku and Shoto had finally been able to take him down. He was confined to the hospital pending the results of a mental evaluation to see if he was set to stand trial.

The DA said he was, but you couldn’t believe a man who slaughtered with no remorse and destroyed cities, was anything but insane.

“If you don’t think you can handle it, we can give the case to someone else. But this is the time to prove yourself. This case could be huge for you.” Your supervisor had said. You didn’t believe him though. Anyone with any sense would be terrified to have to work with the villain. He was brash and cruel and from the murmurings you heard at lunch, he was extremely violent and even more volatile now that he was trapped and caged, in quirk cuffs twenty four hours a day.

He was a lion. Taken from freedom.

And now you would have to enter that cage every tuesday.

“Don’t worry ma’am,” the security guard smiled at you reassuringly. “He’s chained to the table, he can’t even kick you. And I’ll be right here outside. Just holler if you need me.” You nodded, trying to still your racing heart. You didn’t want him to sense your fear or know of it. You need to be calm and remain professional.

When you walked in the room, the first thing you saw was his unruly blonde hair, you averted your gaze when his eyes lifted to meet yours, but you heard the low chuckle he made as you sat across from him. The camera was already set up and in position. You pulled out the tape recorder and the notebook you had. Sighing, you took a deep breath and turned the camera and recorder on.

The Following Documents are for the express purpose of medical research and is the sole ownership of Jaku Medical Rehabilitation Program and Facilities. Dr. Y/N L/N is currently responsible for the recorded sessions with Patient 0427 and are intended for use in legal proceedings regarding the aforementioned patient.

Patient Name: Katsuki Bakugou

Leading Dr.: Dr. Y/N L/N

Diagnosis: TBD

Session One Transcripts from audio and visual recordings:

Bakugou: “Dumbass. You got anything to say?”

Bakugou: “You ignoring me?”

Bakugou: “Come on. Play with me sweetheart. If you’re gonna be this boring I won’t have any fun.”

Bakugou “If my hands were free I’d get you to look at me.”

Bakugou “Hey! I’m talking to you-”

Y/N: “My name is Dr. Y/N L/N. I am here with Patient 0427. It is monday, june 17th. Please. State your name for me.”

Bakugou: “Tch. Eat shit and die.”

Y/N: “Just state your name please.”

Bakugou: “You know my fucking name already.”

Y/N: “Humor me.”

Bakugou: “Tch. Bakugou. Katsuki Bakugou.”

Y/N: “Patient has never been examined before. We will be diagnosing him for the purposes of court and whether or not he is fit to stand trial-”

Bakugou: “You sayin’ I’m crazy?”

Y/N: “Well….If you're not crazy, you’re definitely going to prison and possibly death. My job is to determine whether or not you can just stay here.”

Bakugou: “So you do think I’m crazy? Huh? Is that it? You think you’re better than me?”

Y/N: “Sit down Bakugou….I would like to keep this as professional as possible. Please.”

Bakugou: “Whatever you say Princess.”

Y/N: “Dr. L/N please.”

Bakugou: “Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice face? You do. Really nice. I want to see what you look like when you cry. I bet you’re really pretty then. I bet you look even better when your face is scrunched up in agony and pain.”

Y/N: “You like to provoke people don’t you?”

Bakugou: “I like to see people’s reactions...If I burn someone, say, on their arm. I want to see their pain. I want to see their tears...It’s...exhilarating. Having that kind of power over someone.”

Y/N: “You hold the power. Their life in your hands….Do you think of all your victims as beneath you?”

Bakugou: “Hm….maybe. I know I’m the best. Better than that shitty nerd you all call a hero.”

Y/N: “You mean Pro Hero Deku?”

Bakugou: “Yeah….That one.”

Y/N: “Why do you hate him so much?”

Bakugou: “Have you….ever seen a dead body? Not when you're at a funeral. But a real, fresh dead body? Have you?”

Y/N: “Um...That is….That isn’t what we’re doing here.”

Bakugou: “I know why you’re here….You want to know why I killed all those people.”

Y/N: “You destroyed a business-”

Bakugou: “I accidentally let my quirk off.”

Y/N: “You and I both know it wasn’t an accident.”

Bakugou: “Do we?”

Y/N: “Bakugou this isn’t funny! The DA is chomping at the bit! He’s just waiting for me to find you sane so he can lock you up and throw away the key! If you want me to help you, you have to trust me.”

Bakugou: “.......”

Bakugou: “This could be fun….I like you.”

Y/N: “Just answer me this. What makes you so different from other villains? Because the DA doesn’t think you’re any different than they are. That’s what he’s going to argue. That you’re cold, callous and knew full well what you were doing.”

Bakugou: “I did know-”

Y/N: “Answer my question.”

Bakugou: “Feisty huh? I might like that….and I’m not like those other scum. My motivations for the things I do are very simple. Even a dumbass like you should have been able to figure that out, but I guess even with your degree, you’re still just a useless extra.”

Y/N: “What makes you different?”

Bakugou: “Fuck….I don’t know. I just know I’m not a gutter rat….When villains kill….They have a motive, money, jealousy, emotions, business. Not me. I could give a shit less about all that stuff.”

Y/N: “Then why do it? Why cause harm? Why cause destruction? You have a great quirk. It’s brilliant actually. You could have done so much good with it. Why choose to be a villain?”

Bakugou: “Because it amuses me…..Seeing their faces, the fear, it’s adrenaline. You get addicted to it….once you take that first life...when you see the light go out of their eyes….The power trip is better than anything….even sex.”

Y/N: “So you don’t care about the outcome? The people you hurt? As long as it amuses you?”

Bakugou: “Bingo. We have a winner.”

End of transcript

You sigh, sitting back and shutting the tape recorder off as the guard standing outside the door, knocked lightly.

“We’re done for the day.” You shout. You can feel Bakugou watching you, it’s unnerving, you have to physically stop yourself from shuddering under his fiery gaze. The guard comes in, unlocking Bakugou’s quirk cuffs from the table and helping him stand on his feet.

Bakugou wasn’t much older than you. But the way his eyes shown with disgust and hatred, made you feel like he had lived a long time, he had seen and done things that were unmentionable. It was an uneasy thing to look at him, to see that proud sadistic smirk on his face and the dominance in his eyes. He knew he made you uncomfortable and he was feeding off that fear.

“That was fun Doc. But you never answered my question. I think it’s only fair. Since I answered yours.” Tears glossed over your eyes as he chuckled darkly, before being led from the room.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou #bhna bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fanfic #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou imagine #yandere bakugou #villain bakugou #mha bakugou #katsuki

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somecunttookmyurl · 3 years

Note

This discussion has all been very interesting timing for me because I think I’m starting the process of getting an ADHD diagnosis.

I’ve had lots of executive functioning issues for a long time that generally get worse during school or when I try and hold a job longer than 6 months.

It’s always been attributed to anxiety and depression (which made sense with how I felt and my family history) but SSRIs always felt like they were just turning off my emotions and not fixing any of my issues.

After having a total meltdown this past semester I decided to go back to therapy and I just had my first intro appointment. After like 30 minutes of talking about my symptoms he’d asked if I’d ever thought I might have ADHD. I said that there were some symptoms people talked about that I could relate to, but I wasn’t sure.

THEN HE ASKED ME ABOUT CAFFEINE. My entire life I thought people were exaggerating how caffeine felt (super awake, jittery, etc) the same way “sugar rush” is a made up thing. For me it’s always helped me relax and focus more. I can’t watch movies without it caffeine or I just get distracted by my thoughts.

I’ve always had sleep problems because it feels like my brain just won’t turn off and doctors have blamed it on my caffeine intake and didn’t listen when I said caffeine has never affected me like that. I can have like a liter of diet pepsi and then take a really good nap or just fully go to bed.

I didn’t know that was an ADHD thing. I wish I’d brought it up to someone earlier and maybe I could’ve been diagnosed and treated before I failed out of college the first two times 🤦‍♀️

it really would save everybody so much time and hassle if we simply included the caffeine question as a diagnostic

my ADHD therapist thinks it's awesome i yell about stuff on here bc i just. so many people have bad psychs or don't understand their symptoms or don't know what the drugs are supposed to be doing and then they come back later like "THANKS WE FIXED IT"

bc the thing is psychiatrists do not study psychology. they go to regular medical school and then do a year or two specialisation in psychiatric drugs but that's all they are required to do. mostly they're useless on fucking purpose and it has been the bane of my existence since i was getting my psychology degree in 08/09

i'm not going back into clinical bc i would murder the weird neurotypicals who go into it within a week, but fuck it if i can sit here shouting what i know into the void and it helps then that's good enough. even if all it does is prompt you guys to look into shit.

but every time i correct some dumbass psychiatrist's decisions from halfway around the world it adds a year to my life i'm gonna be fucking immortal at this rate

#i was tallying how many people have gotten diagnosis and treatment #SOLELY from me asking The Caffeine Question #but i lost count a while back #it's a fucking lot though it's a LOT

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i-like-sparkly-things · 3 years

Text

Bets

Jay!whump and Kim!whump fanfic 🍍

Summary : Jay and kim are shot during a drug bust and are brought to med. And obviously, I had to add the ginger bread man.🤷‍♀️(can you really blame me for loving him?)

Warnings : Only if you have needle phobia yourself . Mentions of injury and (incorrectly written) medical procedures. Extreme sarcasm also included.

Word count : Maybe 400.

Note : I have yet to receive my medical degree. Hence, the medical jargon used below is also actual jargon (as in garbage.). Now , I have also yet receive my English degree. Hence, the grammar may *cough* suck.

---------------------------------

Meds wide doors open to an incoming gunshot victim.

Will : Seriously Jay ? *takes his pulse on his neck* You're back here again ?

Jay : Shut up .* through shallow breaths*

Will : On my count, One...Two..... Three...*Jay gets transferred on to the hospital bed * Just keep breathing Jay.

Jay : Ya , no kidding .* He had been shot in the chest but thankfully , the bullet didn't go through.*

Will : *Rolls his eyes as he puts his stethoscope to Jay's lungs . First to his left then right . He calls out * Diminished lung sounds on right side could be a pneumo . Let's get an x-ray in here . Lay back down Jay . *Pushes jays shoulder back on to the bed . X-ray comes in and the photo appears.Will looks at it *

Will : Yup pneumothorax . April let's get a chest tube in .* Doris lifts up Jay's arm .*

Jay : Wait what . *He already dreaded hospitals but having Will there was a slight relief . If it hurt too bad he would be able to kick his ass.*

Will : You'll be fine . *April rolls up Jay's shirt as Will pushes his bed into a lower slant .* Just look away . *April hands will an injection filled with lidocaine .*

Jay : Wait.... can't you give me a tablet or something ? *His breathing gets quicker*

Will : Trust me ,this is faster. *He knew that Jay didn't like needles , but he didn't feel like he had a choice.*

*Ethan walks in *

Jay : Ugh . *He turns away as Will inserts the needle into him . Jay winches , as he feels the sharp, cold metal , Pierce his skin forcefully. * Fuck. *He mumbles .* The bullet was better .

Ethan : Will, let's switch . * He had sent his other patient to the CT . He came quickly knowing that Will could not treat his own brother.*

Will : Yeah. * He didn't put up a fight . Not after his last lawsuit. Will gets up and Ethan quickly takes his spot *

Jay : Figured .* Sighs.*

Ethan : Jay , this is gonna hurt . *April hands him a scalpel.*

Maggie : *behind the counter watching every thing, shouts*Will! Kim burgess, incoming gunshot wound.

Will : *turns to Maggie and then to Jay. *

Jay : go... go help Kim. I'm fine.

* Will looks at ethan.*

Will : Ethan?

Choi : Go. I've got this.

*Will nods at jay and heads towards kim. Teeth tightly shut, Kim's holding her leg with both her arms. The cloth of her jeans, along her inner thigh are soaked in blood, making the blue denim look black . *

Kim : Ya..... You could say that. *she smiles and then winches again * how's Jay? You should go and be with him.....

Will : rough day huh? * Checks Kim's pulse, as the paramedics shout her vitals. *

Will : he's with Ethan. On my count..... One...... Two....... Three.... *transfers kim to hospital bed * he's gonna be fine. *April cuts a Slit through Kim's pant. Will check Kim's lungs. * Good breath sounds bilateraly. Kim, can you tell me what happened? *trying to distract her *

Will : *prods around the gunshot wound * Get five of Morphine in.

Kim : Idiot had a semi. Turned the corner and ugh *flinches as will examines the wound*

Will : sorry.

Kim : He didn't hesitate to pull te trigger.

Will : get the X-ray in here. *x-ray comes in. * Just hold still. * he pushes kim back gently and the x-ray comes up * the bullet hasn't budged. let's get to surgery now! hang two units of O neg up.

Kim : surgery?

Will : Yup. to get the bullet out. Can I tell the team when they get here?

Kim : yeah... yeah....

-------------later ----------------

* Will sits on the stool besides Jay's bed*

Will : can I see?

Jay : Yeah... *will lifts his shirt slightly and examines where the chest tube was put in *

Will : looks pretty good to me, but the bruises look like they'll last. * He saw where the bullets hit his brothers vest. The bullets didn't go through but bruised Jay's ribs really badly. Purple patches of skin covered his side. *

Jay : Will... how is Kim doing?

Will: *putting Jay's shirt down * Her surgery went well. Marcel was minimally invasive so she should be good as new.

Jay : thats good.. Really good.... But when can I get back?

Will : God, you need to rest Jay. Maybe a week of desk duty and slowly you can get back out there.

Jay : great. paperwork just what I wanted.

Jay : don't.

Will : at least you can see Hailey in action. * smirks *

Will :Come on. I saw her talk to you. what did she say?

Jay : nothing. shut up. *Jay was internally rolling his eyes. Will was just being stupid. Like usual. There was nothing going on between him and hailey. *

Will : *lets out a chuckle and stands up * fine. Don't tell me. Doesn't matter anyway. I have my bets placed with Kev.

Jay : What? WILL???

Will : Just get some rest dumbass. *smirks and leaves. *

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Fellow human , are you bored ? Don't worry masterlist here.

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