#I've never read a book so fast as Doctor Sleep

[ensignsimp]

Romantic TOS HCs: Kirk, Spock, McCoy

A/N: After a horrible blog explosion I've had to rewrite some of my headcanons. I hope you all enjoy it.

Prompt: Romantic TOS Kirk, Spock, McCoy w/ GN! Reader

James T. Kirk

Kirk is most definitely a hopeless romantic.

He is also the KING OF SAPPY ROMANCES.

Kirk most definitely reads those cheesy romance novels your grandma has on her nightstand.

He tries to keep things professional on the bridge, it doesn't last.

He'll give you longing looks, and endless compliments, the man is a total flirt with you on the bridge. (That and info-dumping.)

He'll give exaggerated sighs and swoon anytime you do even the bare minimum.

"Thank you, Ensign (L/N). What would we do without you?"

He'll write you little love notes and have the other Ensigns deliver them to you.

He is constantly blowing you kisses.

He even gives you the most ridiculous pet names;

"Sunshine, My Star, Sweetie"

It would be embarrassing if it wasn't so cute.

You're barely in the turbolift when he's covering you in kisses.

He's always sharing books to read with you (maybe the less goofy ones).

It's like having your own book club.

He loves head scratches and when you hold him in your arms.

He is a huge cuddler and enjoys snuggles.

He prefers to be the big spoon or to lay on your chest.

Kirk gets the cutest happy golden retriever look on his face if you give him head scratches and read to him.

S'chn T'gai Spock

When Spock falls in love, he falls hard!

He thought he should have been incapable of the feeling.

But to Vulcans' it's not just about the feeling of love, it's the subtlety of action.

He keeps things professional on the bridge. However, that doesn't stop him from consulting you any chance he gets.

He shows his love in discrete ways; long loving looks, sharing in debates and games of strategy, in addition to the ozh'esta. *Finger Embrace

He will complement you, just not in the way Kirk or McCoy would.

"I completely trust Ensign (L/N)'s judgment, they have profoundly sound logic for a human."

During slower times on the bridge, he'll write lines of poetry about you.

Though he never likes to share it.

Pet names are sadly rare but when you are alone he calls you almost anything but your name.

"Ashal-veh, t'nash-veh, t'hy'la"

He doesn't protest you using pet names for him while working together.

He likes to hold your hand by wrapping his pinky around yours.

He'll teach you how to play the Vulcan Harp if you're interested.

Totally not so he can have you sit in his lap and caress your hands.

He loves it when you caress his face and run your fingers through his hair.

If you just hold his face in your hands and look into his eyes he'll turn bright green.

He enjoys cuddling and having you sleeping next to him.

He'll usually prefer the honeymoon position or have you lay on his chest.

Leonard McCoy

He's a doctor and a glucose guardian.

He never thought he'd fall in love again, but here he is.

He's very old school when it comes to his style of dating.

He keeps things professional on the surface but you can tell he favors you more.

It doesn't matter what is going on, he'll always make time for you.

He isn't the best when it comes to frequent compliments but you know they're sincere.

"Ensign, you make me feel young again."

He scolds Kirk if he puts you on dangerous way missions.

He likes to keep you close by, like Spock, he's always calling you up for something.

His pet names for you are the sweetest.

"Honey, Sweetie, Darling."

He loves it when you call him things like "Doc, Hot Shot, Good Lookin'."

He likes to spend all of his off hours with you. He practically follows you around like a puppy.

Sometimes when you two are apart he likes to give you personal com messages, like back in the 20th century.

He loves to take you dancing even if he can't move as fast as he used to.

"In-quarters" dates are his favorite because he can just sit still with you in his lap.

He adores cuddling up in a big blanket and watching old movies with you.

During this time he's more openly affectionate, he likes to run his fingers through your hair and cover your face in kisses.

He prefers to have you sit in his lap, but he won't argue if you want him to sit in yours.

#star trek #star trek the original series #star trek tos #tos #x reader #james t kirk #james kirk #kirk #s'chn t'gai spock #mr spock #spock #leonard mccoy #dr mccoy #mccoy #tos kirk #tos spock #tos mccoy #tos kirk x reader #tos spock x reader #tos mccoy x reader #james t kirk x reader #james kirk x reader #kirk x reader #s'chn t'gai spock x reader #mr spock x reader #spock x reaer #leonard mccoy x reader #dr mccoy x reader #mccoy x reader

[yallemagne]

Jonathan is not comfortable with leaving Mina out at all. You can hear it in his voice, you can read it in his constant insistence: "this is the right thing to do even if it hurts, even if it seems wrong, it is right and I was wrong to ever burden her with the truth".

1 October, 5 a. m.—I went with the party to the search with an easy mind, for I think I never saw Mina so absolutely strong and well. I am so glad that she consented to hold back and let us men do the work. Somehow, it was a dread to me that she was in this fearful business at all; but now that her work is done, and that it is due to her energy and brains and foresight that the whole story is put together in such a way that every point tells, she may well feel that her part is finished, and that she can henceforth leave the rest to us.

Jonathan is the only one to praise Mina for more than her "goodness" or whatever crap. He praises her strength in letting the men take the reins. Why is it so strong of her to be left out? Because the mental stress of being forced into helplessness is worse than the stress knowing the awful truth. Jonathan knows this for himself. But how could he doubt Van Helsing for even a moment? No, nooo, of course, the man must be right, and Jonathan is still suffering from his earlier madness. Jonathan also praises her energy and intelligence. He hopes that Mina can be satisfied with the irreplicable work she has done for the team and finally rest.

VH praised her intelligence as well, but patronizingly, and to another man as opposed to her. No, to her face, VH praises only her woman-ness, because he would like her "woman's heart" to flourish and for her "man's brain" to cease its work.

I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep, breathing so softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. She looks paler than usual. I hope the meeting to-night has not upset her. I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now. 

Jonathan didn't think that Mina was incapable of bearing the strain until VH claimed so. VH, the same man who granted him clarity. How could he ever doubt him? Even if he knows deep in his gut that something is wrong with Mina and that this isolation is bad, he doesn't trust his own judgement in the matter, he can only trust the doctor.

Therefore I am glad that it is settled. There may be things which would frighten her to hear; and yet to conceal them from her might be worse than to tell her if once she suspected that there was any concealment. Henceforth our work is to be a sealed book to her, till at least such time as we can tell her that all is finished, and the earth free from a monster of the nether world. I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened.

It is difficult for him to keep her out of it. This is not natural for them. They function best as a unit. Even when they are apart, they can work toward the same goal and strengthen each other's resolve when they reunite again. But Mina isn't allowed to work and Jonathan isn't allowed to confer with her. Jonathan is still able to be productive but is severely held back by this limitation.

I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her.

Jonathan punishes himself by forcing himself to sleep on the sofa. He denies himself closeness to Mina, excusing it as not wanting to disturb her. But why would her husband joining her in bed disturb her so terribly? He has no reason to assume it would unless he suspects that he is the cause of her quiet misery.

I am tired to-night, and want sleep. Mina is fast asleep, and looks a little too pale; her eyes look as though she had been crying. Poor dear, I've no doubt it frets her to be kept in the dark, and it may make her doubly anxious about me and the others.

Jonathan, again, recognizes that this decision is doing more harm than good.

But it is best as it is. It is better to be disappointed and worried in such a way now than to have her nerve broken. The doctors were quite right to insist on her being kept out of this dreadful business.

But he goes ahead and says the doctors are right. The evidence and the conclusion don't add up, Jonathan. He worries about Mina's nerve being broken, the same thing he suffered himself. In fact, VH's warnings about Mina being tormented by memories of what they saw in Carfax allude to Jonathan's own PTSD. VH has passively leveraged Jonathan's PTSD against him, saying "you know how bad it is to suffer from nightmares every night. you don't want to force that on your wife, do you?"

I must be firm, for on me this particular burden of silence must rest. I shall not ever enter on the subject with her under any circumstances. Indeed, it may not be a hard task, after all, for she herself has become reticent on the subject, and has not spoken of the Count or his doings ever since we told her of our decision.

Even Mina's doing better at the whole "don't tell Mina anything" job than Jonathan. He's grasping at straws at this point. "See! Mina is content with this awful awful secrecy! I can be, too!" But notice how he... sorta rewrites what happened at the meeting. "...since we told her of our decision." It was not a group decision. This was VH's decision that he had Jack sign off on. But Jonathan pretends that it was a group decision that they all discussed at length together because it feels less helpless that way.

Jonathan knows something's up. But he can't bring it to anyone's attention. He has been forbidden from confiding in his wife, he's surrounded by complete strangers he just learned the names of, and the man whose methods he has a problem with is one he respects greatly.

#dracula #dracula daily #jonathan harker #mina harker #jonmina #abraham van helsing #re: dracula #october 1

[oharababe]

tw: depression & grief

tldr; a personal letter of how i've been feeling for the longest time.

i thought i knew the signs of depression but apparently i did not recognise the obvious signs that i've been feeling the past 6-12 months. it took a couple of people at my workplace to have a sit down with me and said that they've noticed that i was physically exhausted all the time and that i was falling behind work. i'm doing an apprenticeship to be a qualified pharmacy technician and i have six months left to complete. but because i keep asking for extension and yet i am still falling behind, means that i am really struggling and something isn't right (with me).

i told my managers that i have periods of motivation; i am on my grind girl era and then suddenly, i've fallen into a slump and crash. at first, i thought it was because of burnout and i always go "oh well, i need to just rest up" but then my rests get longer to the point that i don't remember what i did for the day. then, i struggle to wake up even though i have a full 8-hours of sleep. my usual self-care/hobbies like writing and reading doesn't seem to make me feel happy anymore. i keep convincing myself "i'll do this in a bit" or "i'll get to that soon" but it never happened. and when i get tasks done? instead of feeling accomplished, i feel exhausted. even eating food - feeding myself - makes me feel so exhausted instead of energized. i shouldn't be feeling like that but here i am, feeling just like that.

the workload started getting heavier. i spend a lot of time "resting" but i'm mentally fighting with myself to do something. anything than staying in one place. but i can't. i'm scared that time is going by so fast and i'm angry at myself that i'm not doing productive. i'm angry that i have no support to help me out and i'm angry that i'm still grieving over my mum's death and that i lost relationships within a year. i'm angry that i'm not moving on and i'm scared that everything is going by so fast. i don't know what's the concept of "doing things that i want to do" anymore because i can't do them without being reminded of people i used to know and now have left me.

in summary, i am grieving a lot of things that i didn't get to process what the f*ck had happened. so i booked myself an appointment with my doctor that i need a therapist. it's scary because i feel like i am losing my life over this and i want my life back. i need to find what is "my life". posting new fics isn't my priority at the moment but i do still have plans to finish my overdue projects. i just don't know when and i need to do this on my own pace now. figure out what i can handle and juggle between work and personal life.

#tw: depression #tw: grief

[oflightningandstars]

AO3 Tag Game!

I was tagged by @mvshortcut and @nobodysdaydreams, thank you both!

How many works do you have on AO3? 15! One of them is fanart, the rest are fics

What’s your total AO3 word count? 27,079

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

3 (the obligatory 4 if you count MBS show and books separately). Nimona, Undertale, and Mysterious Benedict Society! (I've partially written or at least thought about fic in some other fandoms but haven't published anything).

Top five fics by kudos:

(Stuffed) Sharks Have No Bones

Strands of Dead Cells with Sentimental Value (tie)

This head is a hospital, someone please tend to it. (tie) (linked later in the post)

Mysterious Benedict Sleepover (fanart)

Kate comes out to their dad and it is wonderful

and because there was a tie and also one of the entries was fanart, Though heavy hang my eyes with sleep, my singing soul, it cries to thee

(Stuffed) Sharks is fun to me because it is my oldest fic, so it kind of makes sense for it to have the most kudos, but I wrote it several years before the Nimona movie was released and there was a noticeable uptick in people reading it, which was absolutely wild to see since typically I write for MBS which is a small fandom.

Do you respond to comments?

I try!

What’s the fic with the angstiest ending you’ve ever written?

Hmm. I definitely try to aim for hopeful endings, so even though things aren't fixed by the end of either This head is a hospital, someone please tend to it. or you're going too fast, you'll burn up soon, things are definitely looking up for Kate. I like to write Kate angst if you couldn't tell.

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't, but I'm not opposed to it! - that being said, I have some crossover-y art ideas that someday I will actually draw.

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

No thank goodness. I would almost certainly cry.

Do you write smut?

In theory I'm open to it, in practice I don't really.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, and I very much hope not.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, it would be very cool. I have thought about trying to translate one of my own before but have never actually tried it.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I must say, I do enjoy a good ship, but I'm not sure I have an all-time favorite? Different ones are special to me for different reasons. But I might have to answer Korrasami because their relationship and the ending of the show were so so important to me as a queer kid who was just starting to figure that out.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

Ough. I don't want to put any of my Space Opera AU stuff in this category because that would make me sad. So I will just say I have a number of partially-written fics that I forget about and who knows if I will actually finish them.

What are your writing strengths?

I am contractually obligated to answer this question, I am contractually obligated to answer this question, I am contractually obligated...

Jokes aside, I think I have interesting ideas, and there are certain flavors/styles of description I enjoy writing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing the fic. Getting into the writing zone, especially lately.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I think it's interesting! I would probably be too anxious to do it, no matter how well I knew the other language (though to be fair I google words and phrases in English to double check that they are things people say)

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

My friends and I plotted and partially wrote Doctor Who fanfic in the format of a season of the show/episode scripts, so I think Doctor Who. The first fandom I published a fic for was Nimona.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

oooh this is hard, I like so many of them for so many different reasons.

Every time I type out an answer, I go "wait, actually maybe a different one?"

Maybe 'you're going too fast, you'll burn up soon' because it took me so long to write but I'm so proud of it

Tagging: anyone who wants to!

#thank you both for tagging me #fanfiction #tag game

[s65ns]

Out of Time - Chapter One.

Out of Time Masterlist

Previous Part: Prologue / Next Part: Six Months

⚠️ TW: Mentions of Cancer ⚠️

word count: 2k words

••••••••••••••

Chapter One: One Year

evelyn's pov.

"Harry," I said. I waited for his gaze to move from the TV to me before continuing, "I really have to get going."

"I heard you and I said okay." he replies.

I sigh shaking my head and remove myself from the couch. Clearly, he wasn't getting the message.

"That means get out."

Harry gasps. A mock look of hurt on his face as he places a hand over his heart.

"Evie...are you kicking me out?" he says, voice wavering to sell his facade.

"Yes, Harry, I am." I said rolling my eyes and heading to my room. I hear the couch springs bounce, signaling that Harry was following me.

It's been three months since Harry and I first met on that fateful September day. I avoided him and his vow to take me on a date as if it were the plague. I responded to his text messages and held conversation when necessary, but whenever he brought up the topic of going out, I would suddenly vanish.

Once a month had gone by and I saw he was still very persistent to take me on a date, I finally caved and said yes. I made sure to make it clear to him that it was just to commemorate our friendship just like he had said in the parking lot. I told him that I wasn't looking for anything romantic because they usually never ended well for me.

"You never know...things could end differently with me." Harry said shooting me a wink before proceeding to take a sip of his wine.

I remember blushing profusely and immediately changed the subject.

We got to learn a good bit about each other that night. I learned that he's a 29-year-old author with three highly acclaimed books—two of which I've read.

When he asked me what I thought of his books, I tried my best to downplay how in love with them I was, but I failed miserably. A slight rosy tint covered his cheeks as I complimented how well-written everything was from the characters to the scenery down to the death of the main character's dog. Everything about his books were beautiful.

"Thank you, thank you. Now enough about me, what about you? What do you do for a living?" he asked.

"Well, my name is Evelyn West. I am 22 years old, and I am an artist. I post some of my work on Instagram and TikTok. They get a decent number of views and likes. Sometimes with the weird algorithm they've got a random video of mine will blow-up and I get a lot of notice, but other than that I would say I'm just a small creator."

Harry nodded along to everything I said.

"I would love to see some of your work, Evelyn." he said with a small smile.

From there, I showed him some of my art and little videos showing how I created them. We went back and forth asking each other questions and sharing some slightly embarrassing moments we've had in our lives.

Fast forward to three months later and Harry and I's relationship is flourishing beautifully.

"Where are you going again?" Harry asks stopping in the doorway of my bedroom.

"I have a follow-up appointment with my oncologist today and I'm about to be late for it because of you." He rolled his eyes as he plopped on my bed.

"Can I come with you?" I pause for a moment.

"No, you cannot." I said proceeding to find some clothes to wear. I already have a hard time letting Harry see me as I am right now, I don't need him to be there when the doctor tells me I am only going to get worse.

"Why not?" he asks rolling over to face me.

"Because it would be weird if you came."

"How so?"

"It just would be." I say beginning to get annoyed.

"But why?" he asks teasingly. Harry knew he was working my nerves. I picked my bra up and chucked it at him. He lets out a deep laugh as he picks up my bra and places it over his eyes.

"Oh wow! This is a great sleeping mask!" I let out an exasperated gasp. I quickly ran over to the bed and pounced on him.

Harry laughed as I continued my assault. He grabbed my waist to steady me on his lap. Harry then flipped me over.

I giggled as his fingers tickled my sides. I writhe under him trying to get out. Harry grabs a hold of my wrists in one hand as the other continues to tickle me.

I can hear Harry's breathy laugh above me as the pace of his fingers begin to slow down.

I slowly stop moving, trying to calm myself down. Our eyes connect and it's not lost on me what position we are in. We stay there for a moment just taking each other in. I don't miss how Harry's eyes bounce back and forth between my eyes and my lips.

I clear my throat feeling my cheeks get hot as time passes by. I glance over at the clock on my nightstand to help calm myself down.

The time read 3:15 PM. I gasped and pushed Harry off me. My appointment is at 3:30 and I had gotten distracted.

"Crap, Harry. I'm going to be so late." I said as I began to strip, completely disregarding Harry still being in the room.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Harry look over at me, but immediately look away.

By the time I had finished getting dressed it was already 3:23. I grabbed my purse and keys and made my way to the door.

I felt a hand clasp my wrist. I locked eyes with Harry. He had a look of plea on his face, and I immediately knew what he was about to ask.

Too concerned about running late, I caved in and let Harry come to the appointment with me.

"Dr. Ansley will see you shortly." the nurse said, placing my file in the black pocket on the wall.

"Thank you." I said with a smile. As the nurse shut the door, my eyes immediately went over to Harry. I watched as his eyes took in the oncologist's office. His eyes scanned the room like they had never seen a doctor's office before.

Granted the oncologist's office looked a little fancier, I admired his fascination.

Cute. I thought to myself. Suddenly, Harry looked over at me. I began blushing profusely for being caught staring.

The door opened and in walked Dr. Ansley.

"Good afternoon, Ms. West. How are you today?" she asked while walking over to her desk.

"I'm doing alright, thank you."

"Good. Good. Any discomfort?" I shake my head 'no' as my leg begins to bounce. Once the appointment has officially begun, we go through the usual procedure. She asks me how I am, if I am feeling anxious, and if I have any concerns regarding my treatments or what is to come in the future.

Next, I have to have some blood drawn. Dr. Ansley shows me to the bloodwork section and tells me to wait there. Harry follows along quietly. He seems deep in thought, but also very attentive to every little detail Dr. Ansley says. After my blood is drawn, I am sent back to Dr. Ansley's office.

"Alright, Ms. West. The moment we've both been dreading." I sigh, sadness overtaking me as I know what we have to discuss next.

"Would you like your boyfriend to step out?" Getting ready to protest Harry being my boyfriend, I turn to see his eyes are already on me. I give him a small smile before telling Dr. Ansley she can continue.

Dr. Ansley begins by explaining the same old, heart-wrenching information that I already know. I guess she does it more for Harry's sake than my own.

"With that being said...since your breast cancer is no longer in the early stages of stage four, you may have chemotherapy sessions once every two to four weeks and then have a break. You'll need about eight cycles of chemo, before we can take our next steps. Though stage four breast cancer is not curable, we can try our best to prolong your lifespan."

I nod my head in understanding, willing back the tears that dare to fall from my eyes. I don't want to die. From my peripheral vision, I see Harry glance over at me. He places a reassuring hand on my knee and begins to rub soothing patterns. I look over and give him a weak smile as he gives me one in return. I let my eyes trail down to Harry's hand and place my hand over his.

"How long," Harry pauses to clear his throat before he continues to speak, "How long does she have?" Dr. Ansley gives Harry a sympathetic smile.

"Evelyn has anywhere between one to three years to live." A cold shiver runs down my spine. I'd never asked the doctors how long they think I'd have. I figured it would be better not to know so I wouldn't live everyday with the constant anxiety about what's to come.

"I know this can be a hard pill to swallow, especially with you guys being so young, but there are resources available to help you guys through this. We offer therapy to help you guys talk out how you're feeling through this trivial time, especially you, Evelyn. We highly encourage you out of everyone to speak. Without a doubt from the outside, we know it's difficult, however, you are the only one who is really dealing with it on the inside. You are the one that knows what is running rampage in your mind. So we highly encourage you to please visit one of our therapists. I'm more than happy to recommend you to one of my choosing." Dr. Ansley says.

She gives us a second to let the news sink in by excusing herself from the room. She tells us that once we are finished, we can check out and try to enjoy the rest of our day.

Harry and I sit in silence. It's so quiet we can hear the ticking of the clock and the rustling of the leaves outside. Harry doesn't move to say anything and neither do I. As time passes by, the silence begins to eat away at me. Harry's hand still rests on my thigh as I feel my head getting heavy and my eyelashes begin to flutter close. I lean my head on Harry's shoulder. I keep my eyes closed as he shifts in his seat. I can feel his eyes watching me. I can almost picture the curious look on his face.

"Come on, Evie. Let's get you home." Harry says softly. I shake my head 'no' and continue to snuggle up to him.

"I'm sure you would be more comfortable in your bed at home." he says shrugging his shoulder ever so slightly. I grunt in protest as a means to tell him to stop.

"I just wanna stay here like this. You're so comfortable and warm." I murmur. I hadn't notice how cold Dr. Ansley's office was until now. I still feel his eyes on me. Harry lets out a breathy laugh.

"In the doctor's office? Really?" he asks. I nod. A few minutes pass before Harry speaks up again.

"Tell you what. We get up now and start heading home, I'll give you all the cuddles in the world." he says. I can hear the grin in his voice.

"Promise?" I ask.

"I promise." Harry says. He begins to rub soothing circles onto my thigh again and places a chaste kiss to my head. I sigh in contentment before standing up and putting my jacket on.

Harry watches me with a slight smile on his face. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we head out of the office.

#deathtrope #evelyn west #harry styles #soft harry styles #fanfic #fan fiction #one direction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriendrry #out of time #out of timerry #love harry #short story #strangers to lovers #harry fanfic #harry styles writings #harry styles related writings

[yushox]

WINGS

Quackity wakes up one day with this horrible itchy feeling on his back, with something liquidy running down the already sticky feeling skin.

The feeling is horrible and alarming.

Looking at his bed he nearly empties his stomach, instantly recognizing the liquids of a bad infection, also most of his feathers have fallen off in his sleep.

Panic sets in quickly and he is quick to grab his phone. Racking through his brain why he grabbed it.

Finally he remembers a private little comment, a promise from certain someone.

He punches in the number, hoping it still will work.

A couple of rings pass by.

"Hey Q, didn't think you would ever call me-"

"I don't have time for chitchat, do you still have the Las Nevadas chip I gave you and told you to never show it to anyone?"

"Yeah man, you sound sick.."

"Well, yeah, I am... really really sick. I need help with something. And I would only trust another winged person with something like this."

"Don't tell me you're in he-"

"I'm not, I'm actually genuinely ill... please use that chip as proof that you can visit and get one of my people to escort you to my room... please hurry, I'm panicking really bad right now."

"Okay man, I'll see you in about half an hour away, im pretty far away right now so please try to be patient.. I'll help you."

"Thank you..." he hangs up, he never thought he would ever let that person in his country. But he'd rather avoid seeking out Philza if he can avoid it.

His phone pings "I sent Tommy your way, he's closer and has better knowledge about medical stuff, don't worry, he's winged too. I'll hurry as fast as I physically can, but right now I am held back by a pretty big herd so I had to send tom."

"Okay. okay... does he know... about my past, about what you know?" he asks.

"Filling him in as we speak. Apparently he's experienced something bad with wings too, so he can comfort you and will understand you.... oh.. it involves dream, its always dream huh... fuck, cant talk anymore!.. see you in a little bit!"

The response comforts him. Inadvertently his hate towards Dream increases just at the implications that the mad did something to Tommy's wings.

Someone knocks "Sir, Saint Tommy is visiting."

"Let him in.." and Tommy walks in with a medical bag and everything "why do you look like you saw a ghost and were on the run?"

"Doesn't matter, but I will say that you have really good defenses. Also "Saint Tommy"? Really?"

Smiling he continues the conversation as the young adult gets his medical stuff ready "Thanks. Also yeah, felt like you needed a good title to be known by in my lands. Didn't want to use something like sir or someshit, saint seemed cooler."

"Cool, lets go to the bathroom and let the cleaners change your sheets." the younger speaks seriously.

"Okay doc," he stands and goes to the bathroom while Tommy instructs the cleaners on how to clean up the bed properly.

Soon Tommy walks into the room as well and gets the nearby stool "Take off your shirt and sit down, I need to see how bad the infection is."

He does as told and hisses at the little pokes at his wings "When did you become a doctor? Do you even have any certificates?"

"Big Q, I can't even read in the first place, what certification do you think I could ever get. Nah, I just forced Techno, Phil and Wilbur to read me biology and medical books instead of fairy tales as bedtime stories. I was obsessed with that shit. I've practiced alot of stuff on animals and myself alot. treating you will definitely be a breeze." the blonde laughs.

Tommy stops poking "Looks like a regular old dead limb necrosis, it's surprising it hasn't gone to this stage sooner. But you were smart about calling for help. Any longer and it would be a certain death. I'll just have to cut out the rotting parts... I have a bad feeling that your preening glands are also going to have to be removed. I'm unsure. All I need is your utmost consent to do these procedures."

"Erm, I assume bedrest..?"

"Nahh, I'll wash and desinfect the wounds at the end and then hold them close while drenching them with some regen. I don't want you to be forced to sleep on your stomach for days on end, besides I'm sure neither of us can afford to be on bedrest anyways."

For a few seconds it's silent as he thinks.

"You don't have to tell me anything Tom... but, can I see what that bastard did to your wings?"

"Oh, no I'm fine telling you. He kinda ripped them out along with the muscles and everything. Didn't clean the wounds just dumped alot of regen into them and left. I barely managed making a good enough antibiotic, had to rely on natural ingredients too. But my back has been fucked up ever since in all kinds of ways. There's more, way more than just that, but I want to talk to Wilbur about everything first."

"Fucking hell man... yeah, ofcourse, as long as you trust Will I won't stop you, just be careful."

"Ofcourse, anyways lets start the procedure. This will certainly hurt alot, but you are strong enough so."

---

After it's all said and done, Tommy helps Quackity go back to the bed. The younger walks out of the door and a much olde man walks in "Hey Q..."

"Hey asshole.."

They smile to eachother painfully, for once not finding it in them to yell and argue. The silence is comforting and familiar.

Q looks at the feathers collected and put into a box by his cleaners per Tommys instructions.

He picks one out, fading love pheromones still clinging to it.

Without a single word spoken he hands it to Wilbur. He will never say those words out loud again, not wanting to jinx it after getting his heart broken so many times.

Wilbur accepts the feather and pulls his only wing out, carefully preening the gifted feather into his own feathers. He silently pulls out a love feather of his own and sits besides Q.

"I don't have wings dumbass..."

He just chuckles and gently preens his feather into the shorter mans hair.

Quackity stares into Wilburs eyes, their faces coming close to one another.

And Quackity is the one who breaks the distance, crashing his lips into Wilburs.

Wilbur easily lets it happen, falling backwards and letting the other get on top. He notices the worried question in the charcoal haired mans eye "You're not Sally Q. You can never compare to her... I trust you."

Q smiles and puts his lips against Wilburs once more.

Together they create the true colors of Las Nevadas.

Wilbur raises his hand and slowly, carefully touches Quackitys scars, both of them discovering that the mans preening glands are still intact by the sudden bite into Wilburs neck.

Neither talk through the night, but they certainly will not forget the warmth they shared.

---

Days later Quackity walks into a important meeting, Wilburs feather proudly displayed in his hair.

Someone asks if he and Wilbur are an item.

"No" is his only answer. But in private, his heart, while still shattered and bleeding, has found it's final home.

#dsmp #dream smp #tntduo #quackbur #tommyinnit #doctor tommyinnit #tommy can't read lol #loosing body parts #necrosis #oneshot #i'm on my tntduo arc #sort of happy ending #ambiguous relationship #c!dream doesn't deserve to be anywhere except in the void #non canon #headcanon #YushoxStuff

[00katrinka00]

Decades Challenge 1890s Update #2

After the Alden's had gone home Josephine decided to get a head start on her chores. At the top of her list, was attending to her nephew, Kenneth. "Alright little one," she began to say. "Aunty Josephine is here, and it looks like it's time for your bedtime."

"Aunty!" Kenneth exclaimed, ignoring the bedtime part.

Josephine picked Kenneth up and he wasn't too happy after realizing that Josephine was serious about the bedtime part. "Not like bed," Kennth grumbled.

"You have to keep your energy up so we can play lots of games tomorrow," Josephine assured him.

"No need bed," Kenneth muttered, but he was already beginning to fall asleep on Josephine's shoulder.

"Here's a story about the princess Josie," Josehine began to read Kenneth to sleep. "Once upon a time Josie's father, king Thomas, passed away and she was banished from the kingdom of San Myshuno, and forced to move in with her evil older brother Nathanial. Now Nathanial did not respect her father's wishes to keep princess Josie in school. King Thomas believed education was a virtue and everyone deserved to have equal opportunities to learn regardless of the sex one is born with."

Josephine didn't get much further into the story before Kenneth was fast asleep, she sighed, "I guess we shall continue the story tomorrow."

The following morning Josephine decided to get an early start, which meant she was up even before the sun. Josephine hoped that if she started early enough in the day with her chores, that maybe, just maybe she'd have a bit of free time to read or do a bit of exploring outside.

After getting changed, Josephine headed downstairs to start making breakfast. She'd never actually cooked anything before, her father had a cook hired to make their meals. Josephine wondered why Daniel did not have a cook, he had taken over their father's business, and their father had left them each half of his money. Of course, Josephine couldn't access her half of the inheritance until she was married, a stipulation set by their father, but surely Daniel had received his by now. It was more than enough money for Daniel to buy his family a nice house, and hire a cook, and also maybe a tutor so Josephine could continue with her studies. Where the money had gone was beyond Josephine.

Josephine's mind continued to wonder, that is until the smell of burning eggs wafted up from the pan and into her nostrils. Josephine quickly tried to scrape the burnt eggs from the pan, with no success. "I guess we'll be eating a burnt meal this morning," Josephine sighed to herself.

When breakfast was ready, Josephine brought Kenneth down to eat. "Ready to eat some tasty eggs and toast?" Josehine asked.

"Food!" Kenneth exclaimed as Josephine lowered him into his highchair.

"I'm impressed you've decided to get a head start on chores this morning, sister," Daniel noted. "I am, however, more than disappointed with this meal, the eggs are burnt."

"I've never cooked anything before," Josephine said sheepishly as she brought a plate over for Kenneth.

"It isn't difficult," Daniel scoffed. "Do better, Josephine."

Soon, Daniel was off to work, and Josephine no longer had to deal with his snide remarks about how much he disliked her cooking. "I've brought your blocks outside," Josephine began to tell Kennth. "I thought you could play while I work on some of the outside chores."

"Side!" Kenneth seemed unable to contain his excitement about getting to go outside.

"Let me just finish the dishes first," Josephine told him. Sometime while Josephine was washing dishes, her sister-in-law, Cynthia, came downstairs and began a knitting project. Josephine knew the doctors had advised her to take it easy the remainder of her pregnancy, so she left Cynthia alone.

Even though the snow had melted, and Spring was officially here, it was still quite frigid out, so Josephine made sure to put her jacket on before heading outside. On the back doorstep she noticed a book had been left there.

After setting Kenneth down, and bundling him up in his own winter jacket, Josephine picked the book up. There was a note attached.

Dear Josie,

I have recently read this book on the discovery of a bacillus - a rod shaped bacteria- that is believed to be the cause of typhoid. I found the contents of this book quite intriguing, as I myself wish to study medicine at the university of Britchester. I hope you find it just as educational as I have. I am looking forward to hearing your thoughts.

-Theo

Josephine couldn't contain her excitement. Daniel may be preventing her from getting a tutor, but that doesn't mean that Josephine cannot teach herself about science and mathematics. She was beyond grateful to Mr. Alden for sharing this book with her.

As much as Josephine wanted to sit down and start reading immediately, there were still chores that needed to get done. Kenneth got busy stacking his blocks, and Josephine called the chickens out for their own breakfast. Afterwards she got started on some laundry. Even though Josephine wasn't too keen on doing housework, she was still happy to be spending some time outside. As she was hanging laundry, Josephine heard Kenneth cry out in frustration.

Josephine soon discovered that Kenneth was 'all blocked out' and a little tired, so she brought him in for his afternoon nap. She decided against reading him more of Princess Jose's story, as she had a book of her own, she was eager to begin reading.

Josephine quickly made herself a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch. Afterwards she tried to think up any more chores she had to finish before it came time to wake Kenneth up and get started on supper, but she couldn't come up with anything. A wave of excitement coursed through Josephine, and she rushed outside to begin reading for a few hours.

Josephine allowed two hours to pass before deciding to head inside and get started cooking dinner. This time she managed to not get distracted and burn the grilled cheese, which happened to be the only other thing Josephine even slightly knew how to make.

Cynthia, who had just woken up from a nap of her own, brought Kenneth down to eat. "I was just about to bring him down," Josephine told her sister-in-law.

"Nonsense," Cynthia assured her. "I was on my way down anyways. The food smells good."

"Thank you," Josephine smiled to herself.

"Mama!" Kenneth launched into an incoherent fit of babbles directed at Cynthia. Josephine guessed he was trying to tell her about his day, he seemed excited to be seeing just a bit of his mother.

"That all sounds so fun," Cynthia said to Kenneth, he nodded eagerly.

After supper Josephine cleaned up and then brought Kenneth up to bed. She decided to continue with her story about Princess Josie.

"Now, banished from the kingdom, Princess Josie must find a way to live in harmony with her evil brother Nathaniel who threatens to destroy princess Josie's happiness, he didn't even like the eggs and toast she made for him; however, there is one silver lining for princess Josie and that happens to be Sir Theodore who is the only person princess Josie has met, since her father King Thomas, who seems to respect her as an intellectual," Kenneth fell asleep.

After reading Kenneth to sleep, Josephine decided to read for a little before bed. Time seemed to slip away from her though, because before Josephine knew, it was past midnight, and she was on the verge of becoming a little smelly. After taking a bath, Josephine had a hard time staying awake, but she did manage to make it back to her room, and into bed without passing out from exhaustion.

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

That's all for update #2! I'm eager to hear everyone's thoughts, so feel free to do whatever you do on Tumblr (I'm not too familiar with this website yet), or just let me know on Twitter.

Also, Josephine was living in San Myshuno before coming to Willow Creek. I want to just mention that in my game San Myshuno is the equivalent of New York, so think of New York in the 1890s. Josephine and Daniel's father was also the owner of a publishing company - Williams and Co - but more on that in future updates.

Also, the discovery of the bacteria that causes Typhoid was a real scientific discovery made in the 1880s. I'm still imagining that all the discoveries made in real life during that time period were also made in my sims game during the time periods I'm playing in. It's actually kind of interesting to read about some of that stuff.

#TheSims4 #TheSims4Gameplay #TheSims4Community #The Sims 4 #The Sims 4 Gameplay #Decades Challenge

[mydinosaurhideout]

Lumbering on a collapsing ledge of the wreckage, sipping the water down as it bungs your shrivelled lungs, you went from clutching a glass in a quavering hand to a dishevelled hand in a glass-copper drenched-you better do something bitter, bereaved but brewing at the end of the dawn to survive, not utterly, but for your favourite oxidized drunk book you remember you haven't read. Shrewd as decked sunflowers, bulged unspilt heart-void, and being dragged down the school to the wrangling grave on whether to imbue you in or bawl instead, "Yes, love a little more, you are moving on too fast." a more tormented kindled for the new neighbourhood you plan to reside in, as a new body born for bask solely. Pain is unbearable because it is bearable. As queer as it sounds, have you ever broken alabasters-tureens for serving history, or have felt the crackle of your ribs in a sunny-mockery morning that plummeted without a low-quiet sleep fall? They are all the metaphors of the veins and ferns-scars, wrinkles, breaking the legs-moles-on your head and limbs, unseen body-breakable. You are fascinated by sky- levitating buildings and stubborn lakes-as a heart- to drown as it unravels the reflection, the obscured deepness, and gouge-stone within you, being an animal that has 150 days' life and less, sounds inimitable, and peaceful as sitting, stomping the table with forks for a warm-blistered bread and toast. There's always something to give up on. Something to miss. Life might feel like something incurable as a name on the gravestone, a profane to a body from the same body, and any soul never knows when it starts to vigil for a thing as decent as a key to the tuft-bungalow. Whether in the hospital on the first day, or for a patient, swiftly mingling with the drowsing of all the crescent skies it has spied, scalloped by hands for the first time, distinct feelings than said to be. They are here to say goodbye, like every time, and so is he, finally. Here, besides someone, the clouds swim through your hair, and the sun weeps for your arrival, and you can't comprehend if it's because you have aroused or feared the people that climbed a mountain just to dwell on the lifeless auras, and you never truly roll on the bed as curtains shut and reopen, or do they ever? When you told someone about what you love and what you loathe, they told you they understood what you wanted because they were in it, and what you loathe is more comprehensible for you. People never actually tie with you reasons to live, but they give you a reason to live and demise for them. Tormented, marred, and displeased child on a table is transparent, so how do you know? You see yourself in everything, but the remaining-is the paradox of everything disfigured. And I know you've never touched a breathful lemon juice; you feel nausea when it touches a sweat of your tongue, being cold as a swampland. and "please, don't say anything lovely" is what you say to yourself every day. You have a perpetual excuse for all the PhD doctors, psychiatrists, dentists you have left weeping from- out of being understood or being told you have been: "Leave it, they have a wife anyway."

But I reckon how your feet adorned the rain puddles and let go on the slippery floor of your waterfall in your childhood town-you thought has evaporated--and how you became a little kid again, but this time, really an unmoor bunny, a clock with no piercing hands, a stalk of autumn flowers, and a sleeping, intricately stranger on the passenger and a kid. How you love the crackling sound of rice pappad between your frail vampire teeth, and whoever sits beside you. How you adore the trembling hazy sneezes, and pinkish-plump artistic manevuring of cold on you and everyone else-pleased with not being left as a scrubby worm. I am sorry if I called worms relentless humans, I know you love them a titbit as you love fragments of lyrical poems of yours and as animals, and I love you as both. You are the best stranger I've ever met, at the right time, when you feel so utterly right. Bad memories, but the air still sucks you out-as a flaming bird that belongs, battered or better. Compounder and fragile shopkeepers still dance, live and so now you are a little kid, and the absence of people, or the presence of people, and the presence of nature make you a little kid. I wish people were more kinder. more kinder than you, to you.

-i love the way you breath after a breathless life

[scuttle-buttle]

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02

#laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #modern laszlo kreizler #modern!laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist fanfic #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #daniel brühl laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel brühl x reader #daniel bruhl fanfiction #daniel brühl fanfiction #scuttle-buttle #peri psyches #the interpretation of dreams #psychopathia sexualis #cw substance addiction #cw child neglect #cw child abuse #cw pregnancy #cw anxiety #laszlo kreizler fanfic

[subtle-edge-of-rot]

My love I've read and reread your Michael portion of your master list a couple times at least 🧍🏻‍♂️

I love reading your writing and your brain is so beautiful and I want to read it so many times just to absorb how good you are at articulating things and--

But also?? Him just wanting to see us one more time?? 🥺

Gods, I don't think I'd ever live down the fright of the first meeting. Michael comes to your house genuinely believing that he won't make it and you have to spend who knows how long patching him up and making sure he survives without being able to call a professional or someone more experienced than you for help. Imagine holding him up and trying to drag him to the bathroom so you could lay him on a couple of old blankets and get his overalls off only to see just how badly he was hurt.

You use what you have stored around to get him out of a critical state and even then you have to go around the house and mop up blood that only seems to smear on tile and stain carpet. A little hydrogen peroxide in your mop water and you have your area looking decent again but you had to throw out a nicer rug you had around.

But after the patchwork is done and the infection clears to the point where you don't have to monitor him you get to actually know him. Sometimes you spot him rummaging through an entire box of cereal at 2am and you finally getting to the point where you can comfortably touch him without him jolting away.

Imagine the anxiety the first couple times he leaves for hunts comes back covered in blood again. This time it's not his but you still insist on checking him for anything life threatening anyway. He'd finally feel cared about and secure in his feelings for you while your hands rub off blood from his chest and hair in a warm bath you ran.

-💙

I’m beyond flattered by you, Blue, you always blow me away with how sweet you are to me 🥺

Literally screaming thank you so much for boosting my confidence maybe I’ll actually write a book one day 🥺

And yeah, it’s super sappy but you’re his person even if neither of you consciously know it. He wanted to die somewhere he found at least slightly comfortable.

Me either. He’s bleeding all over the place on your front porch in the middle of the night, and you have to make a split decision as to whether or not to help Michael fucking Myers who will definitely die without immediate help. Your good nature and a deep gut feeling you have to help takes over and you pull him into your house. Good thing you’re a medical professional (you get to pick nurse, doctor, whatever floats your boat) and at least somewhat know what you’re doing—and your first aid kit is baller.

As fast as you can, you drag him to your bathroom and immediately lay him out on towels, and cut open his coveralls and start your work. You have to sew him up with a sewing needle sterilized with a lighter but you do a decent enough job. Once he’s all patched up and clean, you spend a considerable amount of time him into a spare bed, and immediately set to work cleaning up all the blood off of yourself, your bathroom, your hallway, the foyer, and the front porch. You don’t sleep that night.

You don’t think the infection would clear, and you take a leave from work trying to get him through it, unwilling to let evil die. He’s delirious, murmuring in his fevered state and reaching for you as you wet his brow with a cold cloth.

When he’s better he of course never leaves and it’s forever after that 🥺

#payton’s asks #michael myers #💙anon #blue my beloved

[9tzuyu]

the art of delicate hands – pt. i

[ wandanat. ]

College AU.

Multiple part series ;

↳ snippets of their relationship and how I perceive them.

sumary:

wanda doesn't like to talk very much, only to her brother (and sometimes her lovely redheaded girlfriend).

notes:

if anyone international is reading this, ASL is shortened for american sign language (language of the hands).

+

this is a revised and edited version from when i wrote it on ao3 in 2018.

The only person that knew was Pietro. It was her little secret, and she could only hope that no one now would find out. She knew she shouldn't be ashamed, it was nothing to be ashamed over. Unsurprisingly however, it became her biggest insecurity – years of relentless bullying ensued that.

Wanda was always anxious. When she was seven she began experiencing panic attacks. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth became familiar over time as her panic attacks worsened.

All because she was mute and didn't feel comfortable to speak to anyone, including her parents. The only person Wanda felt comfortable enough to talk to was her brother (you could say that's because they're twins).

A doctor in Sokovia mentioned to Wanda's parents that therapy may help, that it may get her to speak more than four words a week. So her parents moved her when she was 16 and hoped for the best.

Within a year and a half Wanda was able to develop a clear understanding of American Sign Language. Eight months into the move and Wanda's parents had given up on Wanda ever talking, something that she took personal. They didn't catch on to English as quick as the twins did, their native language stuck closer than expected. Pietro didn't mind learning English quickly as he wanted to fit in school, and he also didn't mind studying ASL to communicate with Wanda on a deeper level.

American high school wasn't much better than her hometown. People talked, whispered and gossiped about her in class, muttered hurtful things about her appearance and the way she carried herself; a shy, quiet, timid girl. The worst part of it was when they mocked her for using a language that was supposed to feel safe for her. Pietro always came to her rescue, shooing people away, reminding them that she's his sister. The silver haired boy had no problem fitting in, it was only when they were apart did people tease the younger brunette.

When their parents died, Wanda took the brunt of the emotional attack it had on the twins. She'd been sitting in the backseat of the car, earbuds in, with her music volume at maximum capacity. Her father had tried to tell her to turn down the music while her mother rest in the passenger seat, window down with her eyes closed. When Wanda didn't hear her father, he reached over, eyes off the road, and tapped her. The second she registered his touch a semi-truck hit her father's door. In a matter of minutes Wanda and Pietro both were left alone to fend for themselves.

Putting the blame on herself only caused her to shut down further. It took over a year for Wanda to speak to Pietro again.

But as per usual, the twins stuck together and finished high school. The only difference was that they lived in foster care, they belonged to the state, up for grabs if anyone wanted them. That came to an end six months into their stay. The foster family proposed the idea of adoption, they had no problem in taking care of the twins for the rest of the time being – or, if they wanted, every day after as well.

At twenty, Wanda and Pietro eventually both went to college and shared a house with a bundle of other people on campus. The younger sibling even found herself a girlfriend within the group, her name being Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha didn't mind at all how little Wanda talked. She was curious, of course, but even before their relationship Nat never pushed her girlfriend into anything uncomfortable. Natasha could tell Wanda always made effort though, that's what drove the brunette into allowing herself a relationship.

When the redhead would sleep, Wanda would continuously practice signing. She'd sign songs and poems, movie scripts and books, everything she possibly could to improve herself. It was a very personal, in touch form of language for her.

Wanda had been with her girlfriend a little over a year and Natasha still didn't know all the unpleasant factors that came about her life. Wanda only told her just enough to get by, and she felt immensely guilty for that. Truth was she desperately wanted to tell Natasha, she just didn't know how. She'd thought about just signing something to her and hoping she would catch on, but figured that would be too much. Anxiety spiked in her chest and in her bones, and she was tired of feeling like a liar.

With a sigh, Wanda plopped down on her bed and pulled her phone out from her back pocket. Unlocking it, she went to her text messages and scrolled to Pietro's contact. When she was sure no one else was in the house, she tapped the call button and listened to the phone ring until Pietro answered.

"You know I'm in the other room, right? You literally could've called my name." He greeted, accent heavy through the speaker.

Wanda giggled as she ran her fingers through her hair. You're safe. Speak, it's okay. She reminded herself.

"Yeah, but are you free?"

"Always."

"Can you come here? I need to ask you about something." Pietro gave out a loud, playful sigh but walked to her room, disconnecting the call on his way in. "What is it, my dear sister? What could possibly be troubling you here on this day? Is it that scruffy redhead?" He smirked arrogantly but sat down in the desk chair across from Wanda, not failing to notice how she rolled her eyes.

"She doesn't have scruffy hair and you know it. It's soft, gentle – and much less damaged than your shit show of an excuse for bleached hair."

"Whatever you say, little chaos."

Wanda groaned, "Why must you still call me that?"

"It suits you well."

There was a shared moment of silence between the two before Pietro spoke up. "What was it you wanted to ask me about?" A small frown was plastered on Wanda's face and Pietro found himself wanting to know even more now. Wanda waited another minute before finally answering. "Should I tell her? You know, about..."

A huge smile took over her brother's face. He was ecstatic that she wanted this for her girlfriend. "Of course you should! I really think she'd be interested to know more about you – y'know, since you don't ever tell her anything."

"I tell her things!" Pietro shook his head, "Does she even know your birthday?" Wanda nodded and turned herself away from him. "I just don't know how to do it. I mean it'd be kind of heavy just taking her out to dinner only to tell her my deepest, darkest secret afterwards. I'm scared she'll hate me, Pietro! And I've never even spoke. More than like, 12 sentences all at once with her!" He softened knowing how much trouble one past  had caused his little sister. "Write her a note?" He suggested, but she shook her head. "I want to tell her, not write her."

Right before he was about to speak again there was a knock at the door. The pair looked up to find Natasha standing in the doorway smiling down at the two. "Am I interrupting?"

Wanda froze while Pietro arrogantly raised his eyebrow and announced his answer. "No. We were just finished talking."

Confusion was written on Nat's face and she stood there until Wanda shook her head and muttered a small "No," giving her the signal that she could come in.

"I'll be in the other room if you need me." Pietro got up, despite Wanda's silent plea for him to stay. He gave her a thumbs up and left the room.

Natasha closed the door and laid next to Wanda, wrapping her arms around the younger woman. "You okay?" Wanda nodded in reply and Natasha knew not to push. For now she'd just keep an eye on her, reassuring her that she could talk to her if need be.

Over the next few days Wanda seemed to be doing better. She was supposed to go to a party with Nat, but opted out to study for classes instead.

"Be safe," she whispered and planted a small kiss on Natasha's lips.

Everyone else went to the same party, leaving the house to just Wanda. She sent out a group message telling everyone to text her or ring her (at the very most importance) if they needed a ride. Wanda didn't drink much anyways so she didn't mind being the designated driver of the bunch. And besides, she didn't mind having some time alone, it gave her the absence of the boys so she could study.

However, after over an hour or so of studying Wanda was beginning to feel stressed. Her nerves were building and she could feel her jaw clench.

She needed a break.

With a small sigh, she got up and connected her phone to her speaker. After scrolling and clicking on her song of choice, Wanda found herself signing the words to a Modest Mouse song.

Green eyes closed as her hands began to string along with the words of the song. It was rather fast paced, but Wanda was able to keep up fairly well thanks to years of practice. Lyrics flowed through her fingertips and in the palms of her hands, her stress levels immediately decreasing as she went on.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Natasha was standing in the doorway watching her every move. She was absolutely mesmerized by Wanda's hand motions. Her finger spelling was very fast, and Natasha was curious to know how long Wanda had known ASL.

When the song was over, Wanda stopped her music and moved herself so she could study again. She grabbed her pens, pencils and highlighters, along with her textbook while her back faced Natasha.

"I didn't know you could sign." Natasha commented. A mix of shock and uneasiness quickly took over the calm look on Wanda's face.

It wasn't until then when Tasha put two and two together. She quickly rushed over to her girlfriend, and carefully engulfed her into a hug.

"Hey, no, I think it's really cool. You don't have to worry now, your secret's safe with me." Wanda began to shake in her grasp, tears forming in her eyes. She backed out of the embrace and against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest.

"No, you're supposed to hate me, laugh at me. You're supposed to be anything but be cool with it." Natasha tilted her head, "Is that what they did to you?"

Wanda peaked out from underneath her arms, the confirmative nod sent Natasha's heart well beyond sinking. She’d never understand how people could willingly be so cruel.

"I'm here to listen, not judge." Her words softly echoed in Wanda's mind, and she watched Natasha carefully to see if she was lying. When she didn't make any remarks or snide comments, Wanda knew it was safe. Accent heavy, she began letting words slip from her mouth.

"I have really bad anxiety when it comes to talking, so I just don’t. Asl makes it easier to communicate, but growing up I was often teased for it. You’re really good at reading me without it, so I hid it from you. Guess their words still haunt me...” Wanda finished, giving Natasha a little more insight on her life.

Natasha moved closer to her girlfriend, bringing Wanda’s shaking body into her embrace. She then kissed the top of her forehead.

Wanda looked up to see Natasha thinking, her eyebrows scrunched together and she was chewing on her lip. She nudged her.

“I think it’s quite beautiful if you ask me.” Wanda cracked a smile and rest her head on Tasha’s shoulder. “Beauty comes from pain, I guess.”

But Natasha shook her head, “No, No, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Wanda nodded. She understood what Natasha was saying, she just didn’t believe it to be true when it came to herself. Nonetheless, she spoke the words, repeating the mantra so that maybe she could start to feel a belief in them.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

#wandanat #scarletwidow #scarlet witch x black widow #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x reader

[lorliejanegarrovillo]

MEMORIES

It was 7 o'clock in the evening and here I am sitting on a couch, sipping a cup of coffee while facing my laptop. I'm on a coffee shop. I brought my laptop because i needed to search my assignments on the internet and this shop happened to have a strong wifi connection.

I sighed when i finally finished my homework. I leaned on the couch. "Finish," said I.

I roamed my eyes around the coffee shop and a guy caught my attention.

He was reading a book while a cup of coffee were on his hands. His eyes were reddish and teary. His lips were pale. He yawned many times but still, his eyes were fixed on the book that he was reading. He placed his coffee on the table and pinched himself.

He lazily brushed his hair with his hands and suddenly he looked at my direction. His reddish eyes met mine and with that, i quickly looked away and pretended that i was doing something on my laptop.

Why did I stare at him anyway?

"Excuse me," somebody said. I looked at the one who spoke. It was him, the guy from the other table.

"Yes?" i said, looking at him. Did he get the wrong idea?

"C-Can I borrow some penny?" he asked, looking away. He looked shy.

I raised a brow when i heard his question. Why would i give some money to a stranger?

"Pardon?" I asked calmly.

"I-I have no money left on my pocket. I n-need to buy a coffee again. ." he replied.

"And is that my problem?"

"N-no. Sorry for that," he said and quickly went to his seat.

I stared at him again. He was pinching and slapping himself. He shook his head, trying to avoid being drowsy.

He is sleepy, is'nt he? But why is he still reading a book? That would make him more sleepy for i believe that books are really boring.

We happened to be the only ones on the coffee shop, except the employees.

"No, no, no. Stay awake, Joshua. You need to stay awake," he whispered and slapped himself again. I read his mouth and i heard him enough.

He looked like he was about to faint but he recovered himself quickly. His eyes met mine again but this time, it looked like he was pleading me for something.

"P-Please help m-me," he whispered but still enough to be heard by me. "I c-can't f-fight it anymore. ." he said, staring at me.

My heart began to beat fast for unknown reason. I stood up and went to his table.

"Are you alright?" I asked. "Your eyes are red and you look so drowsy."

"I s-should always stay awake," he answered. "I d-did not sleep for a w-week already," he added.

"What?" I unbelievably asked. "W-Why?"

He pinched himself again and tried not to close his eyes.

"P-Please keep my m-memories, h-help me remember them o-once i wake up," he said. His head slowly fell on the table and his eyes were closing.

"H-Hey, wake up! I don't even know you. Memories what? What do you mean—" I did not manage to finish my words when my eyes accidentally glanced at the book that he was reading earlier.

"Memories" i read.

I took the book and read it again. So he meant this book? is this his memories?

I curiously opened the book and looked at the first page.

"This book serves as the storyteller of my life. Once i lose this, my memories will vanish with it together and be gone forever.

If lost, please return to me.

- Joshua"

I was surprised of what i've read. He placed his pictures and his biodata on the first page and signed it. Is this true? Is he telling the truth or am i just taking it seriously?

I tried waking him up but I failed. He was sleeping like a corpse. A pale lips and skin. It really seems that he did not sleep for how many days.

I sighed because of frustration. What am i going to do now? If i leave him here, my guilt will probably kill me.

I decided to take him with me. Just this once. Just until he wake up.

~

It's been three days and he is still on my bed. He did not wake up for three days but he is breathing. I was about to take him to the hospital but his book says if he fell asleep, just let it be and wait for him to wake up.

Yes, i spent my time reading the content of his book eventhough just holding it makes me cringe.

I've learned that it is not actually a book. It's more likely a diary that tells me the story about him and his life.

I also figured out what his situation is. It saddened me and pushed me to help him.

He loses his memories everytime he wakes up.

His parents were divorced and he chose to be on his mother's care. But unfortunately, his mother died when he was thirteen. His father had another family. He has nowhere to go but luckily, his grandparents were able to raise him until he graduated senior highschool. But because of age, his grandparents died and since then, he lived on his own expenses.

He attends school every morning and works everynight. And eventually, he developed his disease at a young age maybe because of too much stress and pressure.

"W-Where am I?"

I quickly looked at the guy on my bed. Good thing, he woke up.

"How's sleep?" I asked.

"Who are you? Where am I?" he asked, looking at me with a big question mark on his face.

"I'm Shan and you are Joshua. You're in my condo," I answered. "You've slept for three days, aren't you hungry?" I said and went to the kitchen.

I brought him foods from the refrigerator. "Eat first. You can trust me. You were the one who begged me to help you, so eat and i'll explain later."

I seated on the sofa and looked at him. Confusion is obviously plastered on his face but he decided to follow what i said. He ate.

"I can't remember anything. Ugh," he said as he held his head. "What's wrong with my memory?" he whispered to himself.

"Don't force yourself. That's why i'm here by the way," i said. "Listen to me," He looked at my eyes as if he is waiting for me to continue. "You fell asleep and you lost your memory again." I handed him the book.

"This belongs to you." He accepted and opened it. "You entrusted that to me since you asked me for help. Read it and you will be able to recall your memories. And by then, you can leave."

"What's this?" he asked.

"Your diary," i answered.

He then started reading it. I excused myself for him to focus and left for a walk.

~

Months has passed.

"Shan, what day is today?" Joshua asked. I glanced on my watch and looked at him.

"It's Monday. October 14, 2019" i answered completely, for i know he's gonna write what happened today on his diary.

It's been four months since we've met at the coffee shop. When he woke up that moment, it took him one day to finish his diary and he could'nt restrain himself from feeling drowsy again. So i played a very loud rock music while he was reading. He said it was disturbing but i know it helped a lot.

He keeps on reading and getting back his memories but he will feel drowsy and end up falling asleep again eventually. And that cycle repeats.

His illness is rare and has no cure. I got him checked up but the doctor said that there's no cure for it unless he will take some drugs that can make him stay awake. And with that, he refused.

Of course, he stopped schooling temporarily because of his situation. I also stopped him from working every night because that would make him feel tired and drowsy.

His situation is so hard that I cannot help but to guide and remind him. And because of that, i decided to tell him that i will take care of him. I told him he can live with me.

Well, since we're living on the same roof, we couldn't prevent having infatuation with each other. Yes, I like him a lot and it deepens as days goes by.

We're already in a relationship two months ago. He confessed and i accepted his feelings. And so, he's now my boyfriend and I'm his girlfriend.

"I will write more memories with you," he said and smiled. "A day with you is always fun," he added.

I smiled. "Of course, you're inlove with me and so am i," I answered.

His sweet smile slowly faded and turned into a bitter one. With that, i asked him. "What's with your smile?"

"I'm just thinking," he said and sighed. "I kept on feeling drowsy and forgetting you. Aren't you tired of reminding me of who i am and who you are to me? Aren't you tired of me yet? You're always on my side before and after i sleep. You're always taking care of me. I'm a mess, why are still with me? Why did you stay?"

His face is so sad.

"It's because I love you," I answered and stared at him. "I will never get tired of reminding you. I will never get tired of taking care of you. I will always stay on your side no matter what. So don't worry, you can sleep whenever you want. I will be here once you wake up and i'll help you again. Okay?" I said sincerely.

His eyes were teary. He pulled me for a hug. " Thank you. Thank you for loving me. It may take a lot of time but i promise to remember you, even in my grave."

I patted his back and smiled. "Will you write this scenario on your diary too?" i asked and chuckled.

We broke the hug and he laughed. "Of course," he said and held his pen. "Today, I promised my girfriend, Shan, that i will always remember her and my love for her with or without this diary. I will engrave her name in my heart and cherish it until i die," he said while writing it on his diary. He faced me. "I love you, Shan."

"I love you too, Joshua."

It's a hectic day! I'm preparing for my projects and assignments to be passed tomorrow which is the deadline and i didn't finish it yet.

I slapped my forehead as i roamed my eyes from my laptop to my messed study table. Papers, scratches, food wrappers and lay outs everywhere.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to calm myself and avoid being pressured. I sighed as i placed my hands on my face. I couldn't stop myself from crying. I've been through hard situations nowadays.

I attend school every day and i work every night. Eventhough my parents are well-off, i don't want to depend myself to them too much. I'm old enough to be independent.

"W-where am I?"

I wiped my tears away and quickly went to the bed. He woke up. I smiled. Finally, my love is awake.

"You're in our home," i said as my tears flowed down to my cheeks. I opened the drawer and took his diary.

"Read it so you can understand," i said and gave him the diary.

"Why would i read that shit?" he asked arrogantly. It surprised me. It's the first time that he said those words to me after waking up.

"It's your m-memories," i answered. He took the book from my hand, glaring at me.

"Go," he said.

"W-What?"

"I said get out of my sight so i can read this shit—memories you say," he answered.

Of course that broke my heart even more. I quickly went back to my table and seated.

I placed my knees together and my hands on its top. I cried a lot. I'm stressed out and he couldn't remember me. He even acted arrogantly.

I cried my heart out before i continued doing my projects. I didn't even rest, for i have to submit these papers early tomorrow. I always glance at him and he's just reading it with his brows met.

I sighed. I'm sleepy.

I closed my laptop and cleaned my mess after i finally finished what i have to finish. It was a very long and tiring day. I want to sleep.

I walked towards the bed where Joshua is sitting while reading the book. I rushed towards the pillow and closed my eyes.

"I hope you can still remember me and your love to me. I hope.."

'that when i wake up, you already remembered me,' I continued inside my head and closed my eyes as tears slowly pooled down into the pillow.

"I'm so sorry."

I opened my eyes because i heard some sobs. I quickly rolled out and looked at Joshua who's crying beside me.

"W-What happened?" i asked and hugged him. I patted his back. I'm worried.

"I'm sorry for giving you so much pain. I'm so sorry that while you were into hard situations, i was on this bed, just sleeping and could not even remember you. I was not on your side when you needed help. I gave you a lot of stress. I'm very sorry.." he said, crying.

My tears pooled down as i closed my eyes tightly. It clenches my heart.

"It's a-alright.." i said and patted his back. "It's o-okay.." i said while wiping my tears.

He broke the hug and faced me. His wet eyes met mine. "Why are you like this?" he asked. "Why are you still loving me?!" he bursted out. "I gave you pain. I only give you problems!"

Tears can't stop falling from my eyes while listening.

"Your life would be so good if you didn't meet someone like me who's ill. Because of me, you're living your life miserably!" he said, crying.

He punched himself and i stopped his hands.

It hurts me seeing him like this, saying those words to me.

"It's my fault! Why did i ask for your help that time?" he said, punching himself. "You could've live in peace, without worries."

I closed my eyes tightly as the pain clenched my heart. My tears were unstoppable.

"Shan, i really am sorry. I apologize. I'm sorry for asking your help. Sorry that you met someone like me—" He did not manage to continue what he was saying when i slapped him.

"Sorry for what? You're sorry because i met you? You're sorry because i helped you? Joshua! Get yourself together! That was my choice, why are you apologizing for it? You're hurting me even more!" i answered.

He stayed silent. He wiped his tears as he went to the cabinet, getting his clothes from it and placed it on his bag.

I rushed towards him. " What are you doing?!" i exclaimed.

"I-I'm leaving you, for good," he answered, still getting his things.

"W-What?" I asked. He stopped and faced me.

His teary eyes stared on me. "Do you love me?" he asked, trying to prevent his tears from flowing.

"S-So much.." i answered. My tears continued flowing from my eyes.

"Then set me free," he said. His tears fell to his cheeks. "Set me free so i can live without hurting and worrying you. Set me free so you can live your life again like the way it used to be."

I fell on my knees. I held his hands and begged him. "Don't leave me," i said, crying out loud.

"Sorry.." he said and moved away his hands from me. He went to the bed and picked up his diary.

He flipped the pages and stopped at the middle. "Memories of us," he whispered.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

I Am Not Living, I Am Surviving Hug Me Michael x Reader

Warnings: this theme deals with depression and thoughts of suicide which could be triggering for some.

A/N: as someone that deals with depression I felt compelled to post this. Michael helps Y/N during her depressive episode, the reader (much like me tends to shut people out especially when things get difficult so I feel this on a personal level). Hope you guys take the time to read this as it is kinda personal for me, thanks guys and please let me know what you think. Note the lyrics used are from Britta Phillips version of the song Drive

//who's gonna tell you when

it's too late

who's gonna tell you things

aren't so great

you can't go on

thinking nothing's wrong

who's gonna drive you home tonight//

I was not alone, that there was someone somewhere who was able to articulate the seething, jumbled, brutal, pre-linguistic, thrashing, writhing, hazing, dulling pounding in my head. It wasn't just me. That single thought was the most important thing in the world to me, sometimes the one thing that kept me alive – a single false note of optimism would have shattered it all for me, left me thinking yes, it really is just me – the words people offer me really are just that, words, the hope they contain utterly irrelevant because they relate to an experience that is not mine.

‘I put on a brave front' it had been so easy to hide how I truly felt, laugh, joke act like I was completely fine. But truth was I knew deep down inside I wasn't masking it would only work for so long. I was rapidly sliding deeper and deeper into a very dark space. My symptoms got worse and soon I found it too difficult to even get up and out of bed in the morning.

‘You feel nothing. You shut down completely. There is no happiness, no sadness, nothing. You feel zero.’ Depression is not something that can be brushed away with a smile, or shooed away with a pat on the back. It’s something more deeper and profound. There’s no gadget to test which person is suffering from what type of depression, and there’s no instrument to measure the extent of depression.

Statistics say that as many as 1 in 4 of us will experience a mental health problem at some point in our lives. That means you know someone—probably several someones—with depression, anxiety, an eating disorder or something else. Isolation can have a crushing effect on a lot of people. Some people thrive on it, but humans on the whole are a social bunch and need to interact with others. When that isn’t possible, it’s easy to feel that the walls are closing in. But honestly all I was good at doing is pushing people away, I am afraid if they get to close if they see really see what I am going through that they might abandon me because it may end up being way too much for them.

I kept a diary somehow it felt safer to write down my thoughts, the one person I should be honest with is Michael but I honestly couldn't bring myself to do it. Would he be hurt? Would he hate me? So many thoughts in the back of my mind I pushed them away. I scribbled furiously in the journal and tossing it aside. Normally I hid it under a loose floorboard in our bedroom but on this night not giving it so much as a second thought I feel asleep journal wide open. Y/N didn't hear Michael when he walked in, he looked at you you were fast asleep. He noticed the leather bound book that laid open by your sleeping form. He didn't want to invade your privacy but something alerted him that something was on deed wrong. He looked at the small paragraph scrawled on the page, his face froze in fear at the words before him.

Dear Michael.

I've been thinking about ending my life. I don't know why I can't talk to you in person, so I bought this Diary in the case that I do end up killing myself you will know why I did what I did and that you cannot blame yourself. Michael you are the reason I am still here. for now. But the voices in my head are so strong and the pain that it is inflicting on me everyday, one more thing and I feel like I won't be able to hold on, but I will for you Michael  I will try my best for you.

Yours Truly,

Y/F/N Y/L/N

Depression is a hole and I'm slowly falling in trying to claw out and everyone I love is just standing there watching. Honestly I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep 'acting’ like I was ok when deep down inside I wanted to end it, quiet the voices leave the pain behind that quite frankly I felt like I was drowning in.

I opened my eyes I don't know how long I had been asleep or even what time it was. I looked to see Michael's concerned expression his piercing blue eyes felt like they had penetrated my soul. There my journal sat in his lap, Michael let out a breath attempting to steady himself. “Why won't you talk to me Y/N, tell me that something was wrong?” I couldn't even open up my mouth to speak it was like I lost all nerve to even respond. My first instinct was to bolt, I sat up quickly turning my body away from him. I wasn't able to even make it to the edge of the bed, Michael grabbed my arm “Y/N please talk to me don't shut me out!”

Michael's breathing started to get heavier as his eyes started to well up. Y/N  looked at Michael, saying nothing. He wondered what she was thinking. Finally, after a few moments, she started sobbing, and she leaned into him. Michael immediately pulled her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder, and struggling not to cry himself. ‘I was tired of feeling helpless. I had to do something, anything.’ ‘I remember that exact moment as the one where I started to feel good about myself again, I just wish it could've lasted longer…

There was another moment of silence, this one longer than the last, "I tried to tell myself that you'd get better, that you would get back to normal  but the truth is I didn't know that. I didn't know if you'd get better, you can't keep doing this to yourself Y/N, what if I never see you again! And the thought of everyone else just going on with their lives made me sick! So yeah,I am angry, and I am scared…  I didn't know what the fuck I am supposed to do!" Michael's voice finally broke as tears streamed down his face. Y/N, with tears in her own eyes, finally stood up. She pressed her forehead against Michael's and placed her hands on the sides of his head. ‘But most of all, I knew, come what may, I had at least one safe harbor.’ I looked up at Michael the look was unmistakable.

‘I'll never forget what I saw at that moment, looking into Michael's eyes.’

‘He loved me. This sweet, perfect man… loved me.’

After staring at him for another moment that seemed to last forever, she finally leaned in and kissed him. He quickly began kissing her back. The two of them continued this until it started to grow more heated, with the two of them running their hands over each other, and Michael kissing along the side of her neck.

He pulled back after a minute and looked at her.

"Are you… are you sure this is okay?" he asked, breathing heavily.

Y/N gave Michael a smile.

"I'm sure," I  said.

‘That wasn't entirely true. I wasn't sure, or rather I wasn't sure if I was sure.but I didn't know if that made a difference. I knew I wanted it to be okay this time.’

The two of them resumed, even more passionately this time. They began removing clothes and letting their hands roam over more of more of each other…

‘More than anything, I wanted it to be okay this time. I remember thinking, please, please, let it be okay this time.’

Michael continued kissing Y/N, who leaned her head back as the feelings came over her…

‘But it wasn't okay’

I inhaled sharply…

‘It was perfect.’

2 weeks later…

"How is Y/N?" Gallant ask, suddenly looking at Michael with concern on his  face.

Michael hesitated. He  came here to help Gallant with an issue with his salon , not unload his  own worries onto him. Still, lying to him didn't feel right either.

"I don't know, really," Michael  finally said. "She just doesn't seem to want to open up. I know she's been having a really hard time." Michael gave Gallant  a slight smile. “I think it's just going to take time.” Gallant responded softly.

‘The day were getting... bearable.’

‘So were the days after that, and the next after that.’

‘Michael found me a new doctor. A bit further away, but worth the trip. I was able to open up to her a little.’

‘Still, I couldn't shake this feeling that there was something I was supposed to do, but at first, I couldn't figure out what it was.’

‘But gradually I started to notice something…’

‘...something I couldn't shake once I noticed them.,

‘The signs.’

‘The ones most people didn't see. The ones no one saw in me until it was almost too late.’

Michael  wiped one last tear rolling down his face and closed his eyes.

“Please live for me Y/N," he said, softly. “Stay with me, I love you."

Y/N sighed in relief.

‘All I could do after that was live.’

Michael pulled me close to him tightly I could hear his heartbeat, a steady reminder to live

//Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.//

Mahatma Gandhi

#ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #cody fern #fan fiction

[fashionparadox]

So, I'm obviously a massive fan of Dr Who. I've seen all of the Classic and New Series and I'm very familiar with the Big Finish EU. But I am really keen to get into Faction Paradox. But how? I have literally no idea where to start. Any advice or help would be greatly appreciated.

Hey anon! @doctornolonger here; I’ll take this one. Since you’re a Doctor Who fan, you’ll probably want to start with the Faction’s first appearances in the Eighth Doctor novels. (The Faction Paradox series benefits from this context, but it’s by no means necessary, so if you want to skip this, feel free!)

The full chronological experience: Read all the Eighth Doctor novels in order. Then start the Faction Paradox series after Shadows of Avalon – or, if you really want a wait, Adventuress of Henrietta Street.

The spoilerphobe abridgement: You don’t want to read all the Eight books, but you also don’t want any spoilers? Read Vampire Science, Alien Bodies, Unnatural History, Interference, The Taking of Planet 5, Dead Romance, and Shadows of Avalon.

The Faction Paradox fast-track: Read Alien Bodies and Interference. Then dive into the Faction.

Alright, now the Doctor Who overture is over, welcome to the Faction! All of the Faction Paradox novels are standalone, so

The Book of the War: this is definitely the recommended starting point if you’re interested in The Lore™. A lot of other books build off concepts established in this one, though it’s by no means a necessary prerequisite, since they’re all standalone.

You should only read A Romance in Twelve Parts and the “City of the Saved” anthologies after Of the City of the Saved, unless you don’t care about spoilers, in which case, jump around!

There are a few Eighth Doctor novels you should read at some point, if you haven’t already: Alien Bodies. Interference. The Taking of Planet 5. The Adventuress of Henrietta Street. They’re all pretty much standalone, though Taking benefits from Interference.

I can draw a loose bubble of relatedness around the Faction Paradox Protocols audios, the True History of Faction Paradox audios, the novel Head of State, the Faction Paradox comic, the novel The Adventuress of Henrietta Street, and the short story Grass. These connections are all tangential, and every item on this list is standalone. True History spoils Protocols, though.

Everything I haven’t explicitly named by now is – you guessed it – standalone.

Some enticing summaries:

The Book of the War is the (optional) keystone to the Faction Paradox series. Reading it before or after any other story will reveal hidden connections that you may have previously not noticed.

Do you like your end of the world as an emotionally devastating 1970s horror story or a bewildering occult urban fantasy? If the former, read Dead Romance; if the latter, read This Town Will Never Let Us Go. Read both though.

Would you rather your gigantic-scope scifi to be Moby Dick, but with universes instead of whales, or I,Claudius, but with a war between all timelines where Rome never fell and all timelines where the Nazis won WWII? If the former, read The Brakespeare Voyage; if the latter, read Warlords of Utopia. Read both though.

Would you prefer your staggeringly weird takes on the Time Lords Great Houses to be topped with 17th century England or 16th century Mexico? If the former, read Newtons Sleep; if the latter, read Against Nature. Read both though.

If you want your pseudohistories with romantic undertones to be about humanity being pawns in the Great Game or about humanity making the game their own? If the former, read Warring States; if the latter, read Erasing Sherlock. (Read both though.)

Want your far-future human history to techno-Heaven, feat. the Faction, or another struggle for liberation, also feat. the Faction?If the former, read Of the City of the Saved; if the latter, read Weapons Grade Snake Oil. Read both though.

Do you miss Doctor Who? Do you want an adventure with the Celestis and the House Military, or do you want more with the setting of the Faction Paradox comic? If the former, read The Taking of Planet 5; if the latter, read The Adventuress of Henrietta Street.

Head of State is an American presidential election plus Richard Francis Burton’s tale of discovering the long-lost Thousand and Second Night. You might be confused unless you listen to the Faction Paradox Protocols audios first, though.

And … those are my thoughts! A bit disorganized, as you can see, but I hope it goes some way toward answering your question? Let me know!

#faction paradox