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wisteria-lodge · 1 year

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bird primary + snake secondary (bird model)

hi! apologies if this is all over the place, im going a little crazy. so, i am going absolutely crazy trying to figure out my primary and secondary. i used to think i was a snake bird (modeling badger snake), but then i started thinking about it and went “hm. maybe im actually a double snake?” and now im thinking i might be a lion snake or . something. i have absolutely no idea. i do know ive either exploded or burnt both primary and secondary at some point though.

So some Exploding or Burning, probably an Internal primary (Snake or Lion) with an I Move secondary (Bird or Snake.) Let’s see what we have.

so, ive always thought i must be a snake primary because i’m very people-oriented (and i regard people with a certain type of possessiveness), but thats mostly because like… i have an intrinsic fear of being alone thanks to lgbt things (im aromantic - so the internalized arophobia and fear of dying alone is REAL big, esp considering my ex was just straight-up an arophobe) and mental illness issues (i have autism and ptsd that both mesh together to create my being incredibly anxious when around new people/situations - which doesnt lend itself well to interacting with others, so when i do latch onto someone, i latch on HARD).

Just breathe. It’s okay. But yeah, that’s survival mode human stuff. We do have Burnt secondary language “not good at dealing with new people/situations” etch. And you *did* apologize to me first thing, which is my favorite litmus test for whether a secondary is burnt or not.

i would not feel bad dropping each and every person in my life for literally zero reason other than i didnt like their vibes. in fact, i really wish i felt comfortable enough to do that!

Cool. That’s kinda badass. Make me think Idealist primary... and probably Lion, who are classically the most comfortable being loners.

im so tired all the time, and being the resident mom friend doesnt help that at all.

ooooh we’ve got a burnt secondary, compensating Badger secondary model. (Or possibly just badger secondary.)

ive honestly started getting a bit resentful of my friends bc i feel like theyre making me take care of them (though i know they arent).

That’s a common problem with Badger secondary people who aren’t *really* protective of their boundaries.

so… i guess it would be helpful to explain my morals and motivations, huh?? to be blunt, i really dont know what they currently are. ive started pulling away from relying on other people. which is really healthy for me i think. i used to rely on my ex in particular to handle all of my morals (with them convincing me i was actually evil in the process - they were abusive) and im really glad that im healing enough to stop outsourcing at least that, but im still trying to build up… something to rely on.

You’re the second SortMe post in a row that to use the specific phrase “outsourcing my morals,” but I don’t think I’m going to sort you the same way, and I’ll tell you why.

Mainly what I am doing here is making what I consider to be statistically likely guesses. I’ve read a lot of these, and it’s enough to start seeing patterns. And I can tell you that “gaslighting ex” is MUCH more of Burnt Bird primary story, than a Burnt Lion primary story. Put that together with “I’m trying to build up... something to rely on”... and I’d be very surprised if you weren’t a Bird, friend.

i really dont ever feel quite secure. especially not enough to actually express myself as myself. hopping from relationship to relationship has been my stand-in for support up to now, but relationships are just … augh. i dont like them. ive always also felt a drive to protect and care for people (and animals! i wanted to do wildlife rehab growing up, and on the people side ive been interested in anthropology) in need

Sounds like a pretty good start to building a system.

which sounds very badgery on paper, but honestly i cant relate to badgers really at all. something about it just doesnt really fit me, i guess? i cant relate to the community aspect of it. like yes, every person is a person, but also like. thats not whats important to me. i want to do good things, and be good, or at least better than i was before, and yes that involves taking care of those in need (to me at least), but its not… like how badgers are typically described. i dont even have anything against badgers, i really like them, but im just. not that.

You’re not a Badger. You like some of the values, but your life is not built out of communities, and you seem to like it that way.

i have also almost never forgiven anyone in my life. the few times i have ended up being mistakes, so never again.

There was another Bird primary post that made the important distinction that there’s forgiving someone... and then there’s letting them back in to do the same thing again.

on the snake side, i feel like i might have used to rank people according to how important they are to me, but i think that was more of a learned thing than anything else. i really admire snakes, and i want to be one, but i feel more like im just . not being genuine when i think of myself as one, even though thats what i get each time i take the official shc test (which i have recently taken the 2.0 one) and what ive considered myself to be for years now. its stopped fully fitting (unless im somehow gaslighting myself here) and i really dont know what to do about that.

You also weren’t in a very healthy place recently, and it’s a lot harder to get a read on yourself when you’re not doing okay. (Not impossible, just... harder.)

like, ill live, its really not that big of a deal, but i still have emotions and its still difficult. i dont like being wrong.

That’s also sounding pretty Bird to me. Both “I don’t like being wrong” and the “my emotions are difficult.” If you were a Lion, those emotions would be your compass, but Birds don’t work that way.

on the how i do things side - i tend to react very aggressively when what/who i care about gets fucked over, and see no problem with being vicious or lying, acting, whatever i need to do to get my point across. i dont view it as bad. whatever works, works yknow?

Okay, so you’re probably a Snake or a Bird secondary (which you knew.) And I do see where that Snake primary false positive is coming from. You have some Snake values in your system for sure, but you don’t sound like a Snake when you talk.

i do like planning at least an outline before things, but im also perfectly content throwing it out the window. though i do enjoy collecting little bits of info i can use later! and learning! and using what i learn! but its very much a “oooohhh this is fun!!!” type thing.

So that’s at least a fun Bird model (and it seems like every single neurodivergent person has a Bird model, so that’s not all that surprising.)

i am not a hard worker. at all. i HATE doing things the badger sec way. it sucks and i hate it and i just want to get things done with immediately right now.

Hmm. Now that sounds very In-the-Moment, doesn’t it? I’m starting to lean Snake.

one thing i very clearly remember from childhood is that once, in middle school, i hung out with a group of mostly boys and we were like. the loner weirdo kids. and one guy smacked me across the face for whatever reason and i immediately went “if you do that again, i will kick you directly in the crotch,” and then he went “i like you!” and we were. ig friends? from then on. Guys.. idk

Guys are known to socialize like that sometimes.

i didnt really have that much of an opinion on him that i can remember. i thought i was a bird for a while because of the aforementioned “oh learning fun!” thing and my reliance on at least a light plan, but then i thought about what i do under pressure. and i realized that i go fully improv, and that i feel better doing that than planning.

Yeah, I bet it does.

because planning also sucks and i dont really like it. ive tried using planners before and its…. so hard to keep up with….. now, my mom is a lion sec and i dont understand her AT ALL. like yeah, i can imitate her and also push through things directly, but my god is it uncomfy. id prefer to poke around and get a handle on things first, so i can have more of a finesse to what i do.

Oh this is such classic Snake secondary stuff. Right down to the way that Snake Secondaries do not get Lions, and vice-versa. Also, I dunno, from all the examples given, I would not describe you as “not good at interacting with others.”

i tend to favor seduction and assassination or rogue-ish routes in games, if that helps any.

It does. (Snake.)

sometimes my mom will be set on doing things a certain way and will be metaphorically banging her head on a wall,

like a Lion

and ill be in the corner desperately just like “mom please let me do this please let me hand you a different way to do this oh my god you are killing me here that isnt going to work”

Yeah, that seems like a pretty clear communication disconnect.

#submission #sortme #wisteria sorts #bird snake #bird primary #snake secondary #bird secondary model #sortinghatchats #shc

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baebaeblanchette · 2 years

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Once again, pardon the interruption while I post my annual thoughts on female Kpop.

2021 was really a very good year, especially considering the financial state of many labels, some of whom had severely limited means of supporting their acts. Hopefully, those groups whom we did not see much (or at all) this year will return with hits in 2022.

3rd gen groups continued to wane, which is a natural part of a healthy pop culture. It is primarily through attention turning to new voices and new perspectives that the art continues to optimally grow. And wow! Weren't there so many new groups with great songs this year? I was consistently impressed with the rookie-rookies, sometimes most particularly those who are thus far getting overlooked, as you'll see below, but also with many more for whom I ran out of room.

Producers backed off the Ableton Wavetable and the Latin beats just a bit, favoring more negative space and more acoustic sounds for a quarantine-friendly sound. Personally, I miss the overabundance of club bangers, and I have to keep reminding myself that there's likely a bumper crop of those that are being held back in anticipation of the masses returning to the dance floors one day on some distant future planet. With so many groups going in so many directions, we got to hear a more diverse range of pop sounds this year than we have in a long time, and a lot of it was really really good.

And there are a lot of really really good songs that aren't on my list, simply because this is a list of my favorites and I'm more a fan of some pop subgenres than others. But mostly I'm a fan of great songs, and my bias tends towards that, rather than any loyalty to those groups whose wonderful members I stan. Sadly, some of my very favorite performers miss this list, as I'm sure all of your favorite performers and songs have missed my list.

With all that as caveat, these were my favorites from the year, ranked:

[A playlist of my 33 favs can be found here on my YT channel, along with my year-end playlists from the past many years]

20. TRI.BE: 'RUB-A-DUM' All these new groups have questionable to downright awful names, but so many of them are loaded with both talented and skilled performers and also good songs that are genuinely attempting to differentiate the group from every other group. TRI.BE at least utilizes the group name to clue us in on their overall musical concept. They bring the polyrhythmic drums, and by and large they make them work, no more so than on this infectious bop.

19. IVE(아이브): 'ELEVEN' Yeah, I don't know about this name at all, but Starship really nailed the group casting, ensuring that Yujin and Wonyoung's fellow members were strong enough and featured enough to keep IVE away from the pattern of post-IOI groups being permanently unbalanced. Plus any song with a pre-chorus ritard that works is worthy of recognition just on that basis alone (special kudos to Rei for nailing that "난 몰랐어 내 맘이 이리 다채로운지" line each time).

18. (여자)아이들((G)I-DLE): '화(火花)(HWAA)' This is a great song, even if it is mostly revisiting the early singles. Jeon Soyeon, secret heroine of Kpop, deserves a free pass though, especially since, wow this group got so so screwed over this year on a bafflingly epic level. Did all that bullshit makes sense to Koreans? ‘Cuz to most international fans, the fallout was an unrelenting sequence of WTFs. This is unfortunately a major 2021 theme.

17. PIXY(픽시): 'Wings' Two of my favorite groups are Dreamcatcher and EVERGLOW, so PIXY, as a stylistic mash of these two legends, immediately got me right in my intense witchy girl crush soft spot. This debut song is really strong, and ALLART Ent has matched each of their excellent song choices with outstanding talent in every aspect of the group concept production, especially in wardrobe and choreo, but most especially in grabbing Cherry Bullet outcast Ella, who is my performer of the year, as an ace who lights up every single moment of every performance with just the perfect amount of emo. It's no shock that PIXY are criminally ignored at home, which is why it's really a pretty big head scratcher that, until recent weeks, ALLART, who obvs dumped a lot of money into these productions, didn't have a better (and better funded) international marketing plan. Hopefully their pockets are deep enough to buy PIXY more time to catch on with all the EVERGLOW fans.

16. [HyunA&DAWN]: 'PING PONG' Yeah, so international fans are going to have no clue how this whole thing was perceived in Korea, and that's probably a good thing. It's always so special to see a couple perform together when they're able to bring their private sparks into their performance energy and we all get to bask in their love, and now we finally can see that in some really distinctive and edgy Kpop. Yaaay!

15. 퍼플키스(PURPLE KISS) 'Zombie' Purple Kiss' debut concept was well done, but not particularly fresh. So I was pleasantly surprised by this autumn hit, where they're clearly allowing themselves to just have fun with a super catchy tune and maybe find their unique flavor that way. But yeah, this is mostly about "Bae bae bae, bae bae bae bae bae bae bae."

14. PIXY(픽시): 'Let Me Know' If 'Wings' drew on Dreamcatcher, 'Let Me Know' brought the EVERGLOW vibe to the fore (mostly with the Wavetable and the group vocals, though also too the rock beats), but in an interesting twist, did so without sounding anything like BLACKPINK, which really reassured me that PIXY are carving out a distinct niche, and one that is exclusively forward-looking.

13. BIBI(비비): 'BAD SAD AND MAD' BIBI is real cool. I wish she was my best friend. I was so happy seeing her in HYO's single. And this little haymaker really nails everything I love about her and pushes it all way past most listeners’ comfort zones and right into the black heart of mine.

12. 체리블렛 (Cherry Bullet): 'Love So Sweet' Fact: not all of the Cherry Bullet members are super likable. Also fact: they don't have to be (just see the entire history of British Pop/Rock for myriad examples). But the genius choice of the super dry, super minimal post-chorus, triggered by an isolated, oh so intimate "sweet," is as undeniable as pop music gets, and the group nails the performance too.

11. HyunA: 'I'm Not Cool' Full disclosure: HyunA is one of my heroes. She is an ARTIST. She is a visionary genius who gives no fucks and does it all in the epicenter of pop and can we just stop and appreciate getting to be on the planet at the same time as her? I'm just overjoyed that she was (mostly) able to stay healthy enough this year for us to get to bask in her glory.

10. Dreamcatcher(드림캐쳐): 'BEcause' Siyeon's "I LIKE YOU!!!" in the last chorus bumps up by several notches this relatively lightweight confection, marking the latest step in the gradual softening of our favorite metal coven with genuine glee.

09. EVERGLOW (에버글로우): 'FIRST' I freely admit that, even as a huge EVERGLOW fan, I have zero clue as to whether any of their songs will stand the test of time. They could all be so much lesser than they've felt like they are, but also too they could just as easily end up sounding so much better with the hindsight of twenty years or so. We'll see. "First" seems like maybe the epitome of this phenomenon. I've decided I'm gonna really really like it anyway. Buy-in confirmed.

08. DreamNote [드림노트]: 'GHOST' Another excellent offering to join the Dreamcatcher subgenre, only this sees a group effectively reinventing itself, as opposed to debuting straight into it. A really fearless move when you think about it, and really well-executed too, especially at that budget level. Sadly, not enough people are noticing DreamNote's little triumph. Hope they're able to hang on even just a little longer.

07. EVERGLOW (에버글로우): 'Pirate' The way Aisha says the title word is absolutely everything that's at all important in pop music, and she deserves a special lifetime achievement award specifically for that performance of that word. The vast majority of super talented performers will go their entire career without a moment of such perfect transcendence. Again, I admit that I have no idea whether the rest of the song is super great or decidedly not great, but it so does not matter.

06. CHUNG HA 청하: 'Killing Me' Wait, isn't the IOI ringer supposed to be a dancer and a dance music diva? You mean she's also awesome at these intimate pandemic bedroom pop dramas too? As usual, our favorite famous Texan (OMG easily our favorite famous Texan) reveals yet another wing in her absolutely unfair mansion of talent.

05. 이달의 소녀 (LOONA): 'PTT (Paint The Town)' Orbits rejoice! Orbits PANIC! At long last, LOONA gets a track that stands alongside the best of the predebuts ("Butterfly" is wonderful, amazing really, but it is definitely its own different bird, and as such, IMO, was never going to break the group wide open. Feel free to completely disagree). 'PTT' is a great one, and plus also too it's actually competently mixed and mastered so we can actually hear all of our girls' wonderful voices, at long long last. And BOOM, the song is blasting up the charts, and then some staffer gets COVID and it's like "Sorry girls, you have to all go home now and take your great song with you. Hope you can survive to have another comeback! 'Kay bye!" Extra points for utilizing Wolf Girl to hammer the coda deep into our souls forever.

04. Dreamcatcher(드림캐쳐): 'Odd Eye' At least since 'PIRI,' Dreamcatcher has been consciously bending back into pop trends. They really don't have to. Regardless of their current sales/popularity, what they have accomplished artistically positions them as the godmothers of an entire pop subgenre. That is an unassailable currency, a wave they will be able to surf forever. So why are they doing it? Who knows, but let's just assume it's because that's where they really want to go with it creatively. Then the question becomes,"Well are they doing it well?" And I'm pretty sure the answer is still yes. Maybe it's not as resounding a YES! as it was last year with the all-timer 'Scream,' or even the excellent 'BOCA,' but still, right? But still, ...right?

03. PIXY(픽시): '중독 (Addicted)’ As you may have gathered, I was fairly blown away by PIXY's first two singles. But when this song dropped and took every aspect of what they were after up like several levels, that's when they really separated themselves from the pack of outstanding rookie groups in my estimation, and became a group I desperately wanted to see succeed financially, so that I could see just how much further they could take it all.

02. PIXY(픽시): ‘Bewitched’ And then I got Fairyforest: Temptation, and um, 'Addicted' isn't even the best song on it. I'm actually kind of speechless about this song. I love it so much, I feel like anything I could say about it would just come out all wrong and detract from how overwhelmingly epic it actually is. But apparently it's going to be one of those perfect songs that future generations will put at the tops of all the rankings and shake their heads in disbelief that it wasn't a hit, and I'll be all like shrugging in agreement with them cuz it's just bewildering to me.

01. CHUNG HA 청하: 'Bicycle' But of course Dallas won my heart before the year even really got started. OMG everybody just shut up for one minute and sit back and listen/watch as this woman RIDES.

#2021 #kpop #Kpop gg #2021 kpop #2021 best of #2021 year end #chung ha #pixy #dreamcatcher #loona #everglow #dreamnote #hyuna #cherry bullet #bibi #purple kiss #hyuna & dawn #(g)i-dle #ive #tri.be

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rouge-the-bat · 3 years

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kinda wanna hop out of shipcourse shit bc even when i mostly engage with it when ive prepared myself to not get triggered, my brain is an asshole and has been gradually having more intrusive thoughts about my trauma, and ive gone from "has had maybe like one nightmare in my life" to having nightmares not too uncommon the past few months. and i just dont feel like engaging in this discourse around the time of accepting the fact that im a csa victim is too great for me, since idek what ways to try to cope with my trauma, and i Certainly dont want to do therapy bc we just dont have the money rn n i dont wanna be burden. i almost feel like i shoulda kept internally denying it even though i know its not healthy

but also i dont feel like i can truly really disengage from shipcourse anymore really, bc its just fucking everywhere, people throwing it around like its not even triggering to some to just bring up randomly, and despite the fact that im a csa victim and ive explicitly asked people to not directly engage me with shipcourse since it can easily be triggering when im not prepared, i still get asks, i still randomly encounter people talking behind my back in relation to the topic and acting like im as bad as my brother who traumatized me. and i dont even like proship content !!!! its not something i enjoy nor is it a thing i use to cope! i simply just disagree with the common rhetoric i see from @ntis and think theres better alternatives to try to protect people, but no im just a dangerous piece of shit, i guess, so it doesnt matter to trigger me by continuously bringing me up in this shit, so i feel like im even less able to escape from shipcourse- the Literal criteria i need to not be triggered by this subject

#this is probably kinda jumbled its kinda just stream of thought #vent #csa mention #anti vs proship mention #''i wanna ''protect people'' so im gonna spread the url of a csa victim who doesnt want to be randomly engaged with this subject ♡''

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triviareads · 3 years

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everyone is looking for different experiences out of fandom. some people only want to consume and create content and others want to have discussions, whether it be criticism or praise or anything else. the whole point of a fandom community is that it *is* that deep if you want it to be. And no one gets to dictate your fandom experience or should comment on it unless it is causing a lot of problems for other people.

I don't agree with everything on your blog, (looking at that one anon who tried to psychoanalyze everyone in their relationships with female characters. notes of truth but oof the generalizations) but it would be super weird if I did! Recent anon and some other people in this fandom don't get that differing opinions is what makes a community. (multi-)shipping, character interpretation, and analysis are the fabric of fandom. Extrapolation is in the fabric of fandom.

hell, you're doing analysis of the media of your fandom for whether you realize it or not, and some people's opinion are just more critical than others, so it is a tad hypocritical to say *just calm down* because why don't you too?

I think people get defensive when criticisms take on the fandom at large. saying THE WHOLE or MOST of the fandom is this way or taking a moral stance about something that is actually gray or something ythat some people dont give much thought to(esp bc based on who you follow and how you interact, everyones fandom looks different!) might prickle people a bit.

And in the case of female characterization which seems like a big part of our fandom because we are (from what Ive found) mostly women, we must remember that the internalized misogyny is real. Because we as women expect more of each other than we do of men sometimes its just as easy to fall into the trap of writing a fic with simpering debutantes as it is to act superior to real people you've never met before for projecting "pick me" feelings (this isnt to @ you but some of your anons)

Long story short the thoughts and feelings of real life people are more important than our fave fictional characters and I know im definitely preaching to the choir here and you shouldnt respond if you dont want to, but I just wanted to uh, commiserate? show support for healthy criticism? have a nice monologue about the makeup of online community? etc?

Anyway, feel free to disagree anything I said in this manifesto, it's the whole point :)

This was a lovely read- I'll reply to what I can, since I do, by and large, agree with everything you've said.

Since there's always room for improvement for all of us, I will definitely try to be more mindful of my generalizations of the fandom- saying "some" instead of "the whole" or "most"- when I'm talking about Bridgerton.

You are absolutely right in that internalized misogyny is real, both in stories as well as in real life, and that is why I've made a concerted effort in all my fics to avoid writing "pick me" girls and the rest of the female characters as "simpering debutantes". The women in my stories are aware, on some level (that level varying based on the time period and their circumstance), of why women are behaving the way they are. I have written two different takes set in the regency era on women schooling men on why they have no right to bitch about "vapid social climbers" or "simpering, grasping, silly debutantes" (which can be found here and here).

And this carries over into real life- how some women choose to interact with a fandom (including the fantasy aspect of women seeing themselves in certain heroines) should not judged by others, at least, as long as there is nothing too problematic about it (see: the fetishization of Regé-Jean Page, general racism I've seen in some parts of the fandom, homophobia, etc.).

#bridgerton #bridgerton fandom #ask

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dimigex · 3 years

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Healing Hands Chapter Six (YamaSaku)

Chapter six is finally available! You can find the full story here on AO3 and FF as well, but here’s a snippet (more below the cut).

As Sakura navigated the darkened streets toward the hospital, she took stock of how much she'd had to drink. The truth in Kazuko's words rankled more than she cared to admit, both the implication that what they'd been doing was a mistake, and that Sakura needed to sober up before using medical ninjutsu. True, she'd drunk a couple of beers and as many shots over the night, but hours had passed since then. She didn't feel impaired, but his accusation was worth considering.

As irritating as it was, Kazuko had a point. Sakura could be needed at any moment for Anbu. If she were well and truly under the influence, someone would die on her watch. There was no one else to shoulder the burden of caring for the worst injuries. Sakura didn't have a backup waiting in the wings like Tsunade had. Vaguely, she wondered how her mentor had balanced her love of sake with her responsibilities.

Ignoring the question for now, Sakura slipped into the serene lobby of the hospital. The difference in the atmosphere between when she'd left earlier and now couldn't have been more pronounced if someone had staged it. The frenetic pace of doctors and nurses rushing into rooms had diminished to quiet footsteps and softly beeping machines. The staff were more likely to be gathered around the desk than the exam rooms, while their patients, no longer in need of urgent care, slept. No where near the urgent environment she expected to find.

Though Sakura knew that she wouldn't have been paged for a minor injury, she felt a stab of annoyance after the day she'd had. Hurrying through the halls at a clipped pace, she spoke to no one, intent on her destination. The walk had sobered Sakura further, and the memory of what had almost happened between herself and Kazuko kept trying to push to the forefront of Sakura's mind. She quashed down the questions as a problem to solve another day. Sakura couldn't deal with the fall out from Kazuko; tonight, she had an injured shinobi to take care of.

The near silence that permeated the shinobi wing made the skin on Sakura's arms rise in gooseflesh. On the other floors, there was a constant hustle and bustle of patients and nurses throughout the evening. Here, it was silent as death. When Sakura had left for the day, none of the beds had been occupied. Now, there was at least one critical patient. Brilliant fluorescent light beckoned from the end of the hallway.

Pausing, Sakura drew a deep breath and released her worries about Kazuko and what might be on the other side of that door. She had trained for this. Only the patient mattered; there was no room for more mistakes. After removing every ounce of emotion from her features, Sakura pushed the door inward.

There were three people in the room, but Sakura only had eyes for her patient. An unfamiliar woman stared back from the bed, surprisingly conscious; that was a good sign. A shock of bright green hair fell across her face, partially obscuring unfocused, golden eyes. She swiped the strands away and grimaced. Chiasa, one of the few nurses assigned to Anbu, stood beside the bed prepping an IV line. Bags of fluid awaited Sakura's approval.

"Haruno-sensei," the familiarity in the rough voice surprised Sakura. She turned to the third person in the room, frowning as gloved hands came up to remove the porcelain cat mask. Sakura missed a step, stumbling over open air when she recognized Yamato.

The spattering of blood across Yamato's chest plate warned Sakura that the man had been in battle. Even so, she wasn't prepared for the mess beneath his mask. Yamato's left eye was swollen almost completely shut, angry red streaks darkening toward purple on the skin. A gash followed the curve of his prominent cheekbone, ending in a busted lip. Dried blood flaked from his chin.

Sakura nearly reached toward the man, then caught herself. If Yamato had been the reason that she'd been called to the hospital, he would be the one in bed. Shaking off her surprise, Sakura tossed her bag onto the small table beside the nurse and dug out her stethoscope. "What do we have?"

"Concussive injuries," Chiasa answered, taping off the needle she'd inserted into the woman's wrist. Sakura spared a single glance for Yamato, curious why he hadn't been the one to speak. "Splintered wrist, probable internal bleeding."

"'m fine," the woman on the bed mumbled, golden eyes glaring over Sakura's shoulder at Yamato. She fought into a sitting position, body swaying with the movement. "'didn't need to come."

Stepping forward, Sakura placed a hand on the girl's shoulder and guided her back to the bed with as little force as possible. "I'll be the judge of that," she interrupted. "Now, do you know where you are?"

"Obviously at the hospital," the girl snipped. The anger previously directed at Yamato shifted to Sakura, and fire entered the woman's voice even though she looked one strong breeze from falling over. "I know that my name is Saiyo. Go ahead, and hold up your fingers. I can do that trick too."

"Saiyo," Yamato warned, but Sakura waved him away. This was far from her first time dealing with recalcitrant patients. She'd treated Kakashi after all. Rather than meeting Saiyo's sarcasm, Sakura accepted a pen light from the nurse. After a grudging nod, Sakura thumbed the woman's eyelids wider..Her pupils were sluggish, but they responded to the light's influence and shrunk as they should have.

Sakura nodded to herself, that too was a good sign. "How long has it been since she was injured?"

Chiasa remained silent, so Sakura turned back to Yamato. The man paused the drumming of fingers against thigh and glanced at the clock. "Approximately twelve hours."

Frowning, Sakura studied Saiyo. Except for the poorly splinted and wrapped wrist, the girl looked in far better shape than Yamato. At least, on the surface. The fact that Saiyo was conscious and presumably walking after the injury was another good sign. "Did she lose consciousness?"

"She is sitting right here," Saiyo groused, pushing back into a sitting position to glare at Sakura. The movement jostled her injured arm, and the girl winced. "You don't have to talk over my head. You can talk to me."

"Would you know if you'd lost consciousness?" Sakura asked, failing to keep the annoyance from her voice. She'd had one hell of a day already, and she didn't particularly feel like convincing an entitled brat that she needed medical care. "I assumed that your captain would have been able to view the situation more clearly than you might have."

Saiyo scoffed under her breath. "I'm Anbu, not some genin too busy mooning after a boy to do my job. I don't need someone to watch my back."

Memories of Sakura's genin days and chasing after Sasuke burst through her mind and mingled with the earlier, almost mistake of Kazuko. Hot shame washed through her stomach, quickly obliterated by anger. She forced a breath into her lungs and reminded herself that she'd taken an oath to do no harm, at least not at the hospital. She opened her mouth to respond.

"Enough," Yamato growled, voice sharp enough that Sakura involuntarily straightened like he'd been able to read her thoughts. She had heard Yamato use that tone with Team Seven, mostly directed at Sai and Naruto, but she remembered it well. The man let out an exasperated sigh. "Stop acting like a child, or I'll pull you off active missions until you learn to keep a civil tongue."

Sakura expected Saiyo to grow angry at the reprimand, but spots of color appeared on the girl's cheeks. She swallowed her retort, then erased the emotions from her face. If Sakura hadn't known the same tricks, she would have been impressed. Yamato ran a hand through his hair, and Sakura realized he wasn't wearing the head protector she'd always seen him with. Vaguely, she wondered where it was when he nodded toward Saiyo. "She lost consciousness briefly, no longer than a minute, I'd say."

Humming under her breath, Sakura wondered how much healing ninjutsu Yamato's team had at their disposal on missions. She and Tsunade had discussed the need of medical nin on every team that left the village, but Sakura was no closer to making that dream a reality. Obviously, Anbu needed that knowledge more than most, but everyone could benefit from it. How many shinobi did they lose in the field that even a medic still in training could have saved?

Turning her eyes back to Saiyo, Sakura examined the girl's wrist. The splint and wrapping were messy, imperfect by medical standards, but adequate for what they'd probably had to work with. A long piece of fabric lay next to Saiyo's hip, presumably a sling that Chiasa had removed before Sakura got there. She couldn't help but wonder who had stabilized Saiyo before the team came back to Konoha. Had Yamato done it? Was there anyone on the team besides Yamato and Saiyo? Sakura realized that she knew precious little about how Anbu missions worked.

Sakura shook the thoughts away and brought her attention back to the beeping machines beside the bed. Chiasa had gotten everything hooked up and prepared for Sakura's arrival so they could jump straight to treatment. Saiyo's blood pressure and heart rate were slightly elevated, but neither was surprising with the injured wrist. Her oxygen saturation was near perfect, pointing to healthy, undamaged lungs from whatever had happened. Sakura would check everything with chakra, of course, but Saiyo appeared to have gotten away lightly. Sakura almost laughed at the idea that a concussion and splintered wrist were considered insignificant in this line of work.

"I can't promise that this won't hurt," Sakura warned as she stepped closer to the bed. Saiyo ground her teeth together, either against the expectation of pain or to hold back another biting comment, then nodded.

Exhaling, Sakura focused chakra in the hands hovering just above Saiyo's damaged wrist. She eased the flow against Saiyo's chakra, felt resistance, then pushed harder. Saiyo grunted, her body jerking at the invasion, but Sakura hardly noticed. Her mind was already sorting essential information from unimportant distractions. She ignored the bruises, cuts, and aches in favor of checking Saiyo's internal organs for bleeding. Anything that felt out of place was a warning sign that Sakura couldn't afford to miss.

After ensuring that nothing substantial had affected Saiyo's internal systems, Sakura moved to the girl's wrist. The two larger bones had been realigned before being splinted, a feat that impressed Sakura and made it easy to encourage regrowth. What would have taken months for a civilian would be completed in a matter of days with chakra's help. The complex, tiny bones nearer to the fingers needed to be shifted ever so gently to the side-a sharp gasp from Saiyo tugged at Sakura's concentration but she forced herself to continue, picturing the carefully inked pictures that Tsunade had made her study.

Sweat popped out on Sakura's forehead as she realigned the pieces like a puzzle, but she hardly noticed. Maintaining the delicate flows of chakra required every ounce of her attention. The edge of alcohol in her system made it more difficult than it would have been otherwise, but it was nothing Sakura couldn't handle. One slip up here could be catastrophic; she had to maintain focus until the end.

Content that the wrist would heal on its own soon, Sakura focused her attention toward Saiyo's skull. Concussions were tricky to diagnose on the best day, impossible on the worst. The loss of consciousness, sluggish pupils, and slurred speech were enough to suggest that Saiyo had one. Even the woman's combative nature could have pointed to a concussion, but Sakura thought that was more personality than injury. Rather than looking for bruising indicative of a concussion, Sakura checked for active bleeding inside Saiyo's skull. The girl's brain would repair itself far better without Sakura's interference unless it was life or death.

Content that she'd done everything in her power, Sakura released her chakra and opened her eyes. For a moment, her vision doubled with exhaustion. She had the vague sensation that her knees might collapse, but she held herself erect despite the weakness that warned that she'd pushed herself too far today. Saiyo groaned and sank back against the pillow, face ashen.

"I've stabilized your wrist," Sakura began, running her tongue over too dry lips. Even talking felt like a struggle, though she knew the sensation would pass. "It should be good as new in a few days. There were no signs of internal bleeding, but I want to keep you for observation overnight to make sure we didn't miss anything."

Sakura braced herself for an argument, but Saiyo closed her eyes with murmured agreement. Sakura frowned. Chakra healing took some of its energy from the patient, but Saiyo had been overbearing only a few minutes ago. Now, she looked completely spent. "Saiyo? How are you feeling?"

When Sakura didn't get an answer, she glanced at the monitor. Saiyo's heart rate had dropped significantly, much closer to the range that Sakura expected of a physically fit shinobi. She doubted that removing pain from her wrist would have created such a dramatic effect. Had she missed bleeding somewhere? "Let's run-"

"She's fine," Yamato interjected, stepping closer. Sakura spun to face him and immediately regretted it when the room tilted at the edges. Yamato's demeanor had changed. He practically bounced on his toes with unspent energy now that he knew Saiyo would live. Sakura opened her mouth to question him, but Yamato spoke over the words. "She took a soldier pill, and they fade quickly. In a day or two, she'll be back to her normal, moody self. Thanks to you," the man added as an afterthought.

A low growl left Sakura's throat. "You didn't think that we might need that information?"

"How do you think she got here with a broken wrist and concussion?" Yamato snorted humorlessly in the back of his throat and shook his head. When he saw Sakura's expression, the man moderated his tone. "Anbu is a different world; we push our bodies past their limits all the time."

"And, I'm the one left picking up the pieces," Sakura shot back. Anger rolled through her in waves that she didn't fully understand. Regular shinobi used soldier pills sparingly, only in life and death situations. The stimulants inside each capsule could keep someone going for up to twenty-four hours, but then, their body would more or less shut down for the next two days to recover.

Embarrassment followed quickly on anger's heels. Sakura should have asked if Saiyo had taken anything, she should have surmised the effect of stimulants on the girl's blood pressure and heart rate. She'd been too tired to do a thorough examination before jumping to healing. Tsunade would have punished Sakura for such a slip up, making her do charting instead of seeing patients for weeks.

Unaware of the self-deprecating thoughts in Sakura's mind, Yamato's mouth curled into a condescending smile. She'd never seen that expression on his face before. "Anbu rarely have the luxury of a medic on the team."

"Yeah," Sakura agreed, internally grumbling over the old argument. Yamato would never convince her that things in Anbu didn't need to change, and she would probably never convince him that they should. Sakura was too tired to argue the point tonight, and she didn't know enough about the organization to critique it well. Not yet, but she planned to find out. She'd push Kakashi for more information as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Turning back to Chiasa, who had been quietly making notes in Saiyo's file, Sakura nodded. "Go ahead and start the fluids, we'll try to flush some of the stimulants from her system. And, you'll page me if there are any changes?"

"Of course, Haruno-sensei," Chiasa murmured, already reaching for the fluids that she'd laid out before Sakura arrived at the hospital. The woman's quiet, efficient manner put Sakura at ease.

"Thanks," Sakura began, pausing when a sound drew her attention. She turned to find Yamato replacing the cat mask over his face. The loss of familiarity left her uncomfortable. True, she only saw a portion of Kakashi's face, but somehow just the shadowed brown of Yamato's eyes was different, like he'd pushed a barrier between them. She arched one eyebrow. "And just where do you think you're going? You were injured as well."

The man shook his head, adjusting the black compression glove on one arm. "I'm only here because of Saiyo. And, unlike her, I actually am fine."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "I'll be the judge of that."

Yamato shook his head again, then bent to scoop his pack from the ground. Sakura hadn't even noticed it there until now. "I have been doing this long enough to know when I need the hospital and when I just need a hot shower. Today is the latter, and I have a report to make."

The man dipped his head in an almost acknowledgement to Sakura's silence, then raised his fingers to chest height. Before she could think of a convincing argument, Yamato shunshined from the room. Despite his injuries, Yamato was probably right. His body would heal on its own, and Sakura didn't have much chakra or energy left to put into another healing. She looked at Saiyo, already lulled to sleep by the exhaustion of healing and her body coming down from the stimulant.

As much as Sakura wanted to analyze everything that had happened, she exhaled that urge in a long, measured breath. She needed rest; tomorrow would be soon enough to sort through all these problems.

(Don’t forget to check out the rest of this chapter and story at the links above on Fanfiction and A03)

#Dimi Writes #My writing #Healing Hands #YamaSaku #Tenzo #Yamato #Sakura #Introducing OC Saiyo #Medical nonsense that I made up #Slow Burn #Glacial actually #We're thirty three thousand words in and they've hardly interacted #trust me #They will #The chaos is coming soon

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t0sshii · 4 years

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ginhiji hospital au??

I needed to get this off of my brain and I can’t draw or write so here it goes... Ginhiji but Hijikata is a nurse working in a hospital and Gintoki is the new resident who comes off as lazy but is actually a really good doctor (which surprises our boy Toushi)

More thoughts under the cut? (I have more thoughts about hijikata because.... i have more experience there LOL)

I’ve been a working nurse for more than half a year now so I kind of know what I’m talking about? (but not really because i’m definitely still a baby nurse that’s still learning OTL) but really im a baby don’t ask me specifics

I got into Gintama super late and I have so many regrets because it’s taken over my life.

hijikata working in either medsurg, ICU, or emergency because it’s not slow, needs great time management skills and working under pressure /but i have a bias for medsurg because that’s where i am right now... but i feel like he would definitely be the same kind of intense that some ICU nurses i know are...

he’s definitely the type to not take a proper break at work... would probably eat saltines from the nutrition room

reason 1: he’s too busy

reason 2: hates to go on break if he has to leave hella shit for the person covering him (so he give all his meds, clean his patients, give pain meds...make sure they NEVER call the person covering him on break) but that also means when things don’t calm down he feels like there’s never an opening for one

meanwhile he will give meds, clean patients, and do everything for whoever he covers for break

when this happens kondo sends yamazaki to cover him for breaks because you can’t tell patients to eat their food when you haven’t eaten toushi

is really good at putting in IVs, nobody on the unit even tries to put them in when he’s working they’ll just ask him to do it for them

a charting superuser lol

his brain... impeccable. a work of art. a pinnacle of organization. made his own because the hospital issued one doesn’t work for him

probably looks something like this

note: allows you do just quickly circle things during shift change instead of writing it all down...i would probably make past medical history section bigger though (do i use a sheet like this? no because i am... organized chaos and writing it down helps ME--but toushi probably wants to take as little time possible writing shit down)

reads his work e-mail, even the newsletters from the hospital

kondo is nurse manager and is a very supportive one (the potlucks!!! tries his best to make sure everyone feels supported at work ; w ;) hired hijikata..

when hijikata is charge, the work is distributed evenly thank god

also “it’s an hour until shift change and if this patient doesn’t come up in 10 minutes they’re not coming until after shift change”

everyone asks him for help because he knows all the hospital policies

what nurse isn’t frustrated with doctors lets be real

exhibit A: “my patient is in TEARS with 10/10 pain and the doctors have the audacity to ask if THEY TRIED TO DISTRACT THEMSELVES WITH ART?” (this is a literal conversation I’ve had with a resident before)

hates talking to interns because he ends up having to teach them how to do their job

hates talking to jaded attendings

only attending he likes is shouyo

used to have long hair in nursing school but cut it after his ponytail got into some shit during a bed bath

still smokes.. kondo hates it because we’ve all seen what it’s done to our patients and you still smoke?

has tried to quit but never works out

gintoki also gets on his case about it

just imagine hijikata in those black figs joggers scrubs UGH

in this universe they’re called digs because copyright and this is still gintama we’re talking about

these scrubs are unnecessarily expensive so he didn’t actually buy them himself ( “why the fuck would i buy expensive scrubs if i am going to get literal shit on it”).. if left to his own devices he will wear those ugly ass hospital issued scrubs

Kondo and his other friends split the price for the black joggers and a 3 pocket scrub top -- because we all know hijikata puts ALL his supplies in his pockets. he NEEDS pockets

Gintoki thinks his ass looks good in those joggers UGH

Hijikata won’t admit it but the digs are his favorite pair they are so comfortable. still won’t buy them with his own money though

student nurses are scared of him because he’s intense and asks hard questions, really strict... doesn’t bully but pushes students and orientees really hard

but also any one who can survive being trained by him becomes an excellent nurse

that nurse that’s on top of their shit and THINKS instead of just following orders

“saw his potassium is high. can we do something about that?”

“there wasn’t continuous oxygen monitoring ordered but i put them on because it doesn’t look good. can we get an order for that”

all the doctors trust him because he’s just so goOD

gets on gintoki’s case about looking like a bum at the hospital all the time

if he EVER catches wind of doctors talking down to his nurses or older nurses bullying the newer ones (which never really happens because kondo is a great manager who fosters a very nontoxic work culture) they will...FEEL. HIS. WRATH.

also will not tolerate patients treating him (or his coworkers) like shit. will be more professional dealing with patients tho than with the MDs. but if it’s an MD berating a nurse, they better be ready to get their ass KICKED

Gintoki is the new resident along with katsura and takasugi in.... internal medicine? surgery? idk?

i mostly just wanted write this one: hijikata has a patient in a pain crisis 10/10 pain, given all available pain meds, tried everything possible but still no relief. paged the new resident working with this patient

hijikata fully expects either a call saying “sorry i can’t order any more pain medicine for this patient” or just another IV medicine ordered with no communication at all

but gintoki comes into the patient’s room (first thing hijikata notices is unprofessional hair, wrinkled jacket, mismatching socks and thinks this doctor is going to be lazy AF), speaks to the patient with great bedside manner, talks to the patient about pain management strategies and WORKS WITH THEM for a better plan for medication. walks with the patient in the hall and even takes them to the bathroom

hijikata is FLOORED. because this never happens with MDs.

(this has actually happened and me and all my coworkers were SO PLEASANTLY SURPRISED)

hijikata once sent gintoki a message asking if he wanted to lower the dose for a medication because the lab for it was high

gintoki thought he was the pharmacist because hijikata is just that good

likes the sound of hijikata’s voice on the phone so he always returns his pages even if it’s just to say “ok i’ll put the order in”

secretly gets excited when he sees hijikata’s name on the chart under the care team

one because he’s hot

two because he’s a good nurse

actually learns a lot from hijikata

gets to know hijikata’s bad break habits and gives him a coffee whenever he notices he’s working (but is absolutely disgusted when he brings out the mayonnaise)

“how can you tell your patients to be healthy when you put that shit in everything you eat?”

hijikata counters with “you can’t tell me what to eat when you’re on your way to diabetes asshole”

tries to be the kind of MD shouyo is

being in healthcare is hard so the two of them do drink together if their days off line up to vent....

hijikata complains about dumb MDs (gintoki makes mental notes on how to not be an annoying MD), how busy his days are, and why are we always understaffed... how can we run out of IVs?

gintoki complains about all the calls he gets, how stressful residency is, why are rounds so early, that midget takasugi, the long ass working hours, being on call fuckin sucks

both bond over sharing crazy stories about patients or how their day went....also hospital complaints because what healthcare worker doesn’t complain about their hospital

get into “who’s job is more stressful” arguments a lot

on particularly hard (emotionally, physically, mentally) days the other would show up with a bag of food and drinks?

when the two start dating, it’s usually just... hanging out at work?

if somehow by some miracle, they get their breaks together (if at all) they eat together

if they do have days off together they usually spend it sleeping (literally you guys) or relaxing at one of their apartments

sleep deprived healthcare workers lead to many....petty...arguments but they make up by the end

it’s late and i have more thoughts? but i have work tomorrow. but i needed to get this OUT OF MY BRAIN.

also feel free to message me about any of this!! :) asks are always open hehe

#smh anjo #i never see anything about nurses in fandom and i get sad #gintama #ginhiji #headcanons #hospital au #i wish i had talent AHAAHAHA #mostly because i want to see hiji in THOSE BLACK FIGS JOGGERS #anime #Hijikata Toushirou #sakata gintoki #hijigin #ginhijigin

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krepkiy · 3 years

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childe headcanon- tw for: pstd , trauma, anxiety attacks. gets a little descriptive so i’m giving a forewarning and that it gets pretty long- under a readmore just to be safe ouo

I feel like the Abyss really fucked him UP, and he might not realize to the extent of how bad it affected him? Like yeah he knows that it turned him from being kinda carefree kid to a slightly deranged and empty teen ( IN A MATTER OF ‘3 dAYS’ MONTHS ) and that it’s not healthy for anyone to go from 0-100 or that harsh a jump from innocent adolescence to a battle hardened soul. but he almost thinks of it as a challenge he overcame and almost wears it with pride? like “yeah man you’re strong but i fucking survived living in the abyss for months ( albiet with hELP ) and thats when i was 14 and ive only gotten better come at me”

when’s he’s still in the immediate aftermath of escaping he doesn’t believe it. he just thinks its another ‘test’, thinks his minds playing tricks on him, that he’s out safe and happy with his family-- he doesn’t believe it and it takes a LONG time for him to truly accept and know that he did, in fact, make it out. he really is with his family. he IS safe. he constantly has to ask where people are, where they’re going, when they’ll be back ( if he can go with so he doesnt have to be on his own ). acts of unprovoked aggression like fighting wild animals or throwing punches at family members- mostly in defense if startled or touched out of nowhere ( which he denies happening- he’d never hurt his family )( he always apologizes after profusely, definitely in tears ). the family learns very quickly to be careful with him ( because they care so deeply for him ) for a while until he isn’t seemingly always on edge. they know he isn’t trying to attack them because he WANTS to hurt them, but out of whatever happened to him made him so uneasy by every little thing- every noise, every shift of furniture-

anytime he thinks back on those actions he just thinks of them as a child waking from a nightmare and wanting comfort from a parent, not that something was really wrong with him. just a child thrilled by the thought of violence ( a healthy thing, yes, of course )

but he doesnt realize that at times when it’s too dark and/or too quiet he feels paranoid ( he’s back there isn’t here, this whole time his mind had played a trick on him ). he doesnt realize the way his throat feels too tight and finds it hard to breathe. he doesnt notice the way he clings onto anything around him to find some purchase, something to ground him. he doesn’t notice how he instinctively thinks of his parents, of his siblings, something to lighten the internal tug at his chest. he never understands the reason why when he creates beautiful and glowing seacreatures with his Vision ( penguins, dolphins, schools of fish, otters ) that it helps calm him down, eases his body to become relaxed- he just knows it WORKS.

if he has a milder attack at home before he leaves snehznya teucer ( or any of the other siblings ) would probably take notice of something being off with their brother ajax and would give him one of their stuffed animals ( likely a bear ) with a declaration of “to protect you while im not there” or if wanting more subtly to not freak him out or make him upset “i want (insert animals name here) to see the world! take them with you and don’t you dare lose em!”

he doesn’t know what it is until one partially bad episode when he’s shaking so bad, unable to do anything but hold himself. if he’s in a chair when it starts, or if he was in bed comfortable and ready for the night, he ends up on the floor, back against a solid surface ( wall, edge of the bed, back of a desk ) as he struggles.

he can’t seem to focus on making the cute critters ( anything that comes out looks like a monster from the abyss which he can somehow still recall vividly- why is it so clear in his memories the way they looked, they smelled-- ), nothing stays in a solid shape of water for very long. he can’t feel his fingers, his legs, his sight feels hazed and blurred and nothing seems to be in focus no matter how hard he tries. he only feels how scared he is, can only feel how difficult it is to get air in his lungs, can only think of how desperate he wants to call for help- but knows there isn’t anyone around he can ask. in his delirium and shattered state, he thinks to the stuffed animal he kept in a secret compartment ( in a bag? in a shelf? in a locked drawer on his desk? ) and takes it out, hugging it against his chest so tight he half expects the poor thing to be ripped apart and have it’s fluffy insides leak out.

it takes all night for him to become any sort of functional enough to leave his room, and he still looks as awful as he feels as he slowly drags himself from task to task ( refusing to do anything outside of mundane like paperwork or storage rearranging-- “maybe another day comrade but for today i’d rather be here” ). no one makes a comment, whether for their sake or his own, but he’s well aware of how off he must be if people are avoiding him more than usual.

he does not want to experience that again, but he has to figure out what it is first to see if he can do anything about it, but he almost doesnt want to acknowledge whatever it is, almost denying it to make it not real ( he’s not weak- refuses to be weak, this isn’t bothering him, he can handle it on his own )- thinking that if he accepts it that it’ll become worse.

likely does secret investigative work, reading any articles, documents, research, he can find on the body suddenly refusing to co-operate and ‘shutting down’, sudden lack of oxygen, being overtaken by fear--

if he does inquire from someone in specific rather than pieces of paper about the condition- he most likely talks to qiqi about it, asking some vague questions “for a friend”, knowing she was far less likely to tattle to anyone about it.

#( headcanon. )#is... that not a tAG??? hWO IT IS NOT A TAG?#questioning my life choices over here and im SO SORRY CHILDE I LOVE YOU BB #long ass post im so sorryyyyyyy #tw: ptsd #tw: anxiety attacks #tw: trauma

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kpopfanfictrash · 5 years

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Angel (IV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jackson

Rating: 18+ (mentions of sex, depictions of medical trauma)

Word Count: 4,466

Summary: You’re a medical intern, always a perfectionist and used to being the best at everything you do. Jackson Wang is the male nurse beloved by everyone and constantly on your nerves. When you two are brought together, it could be the best or the worst thing that’s ever happened. [ THIS IS A REPOST ]

You laugh at his expression. Twining your fingers about his neck while pressing his body to yours. “I don’t,” you admit, voice lowering. “I don’t see you as just a friend – I was scared. Scared you were avoiding me. I thought maybe you regretting taking care of me.”

Jackson’s eyes widen. “What? No,” he counters. “I thought you were mad at me, that I took advantage of you somehow. I wanted to give you space, I wanted … Ah, shit.” Jackson exhales, closing his eyes. “I did this all wrong.”

When you poke at his cheek, Jackson opens both eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” you smile.

Jackson smiles back at you, slightly dazed. “It doesn’t, does it,” he murmurs. Nudging your nose aside with his own when he kisses you.

You melt into him, skin tingling as for the first time in a long time – you allow yourself to be happy.

“It’s just mind-boggling.”

“What is?” you muse, adjusting the IV drip with one hand.

Mr. Ronstein smiles at you from his bed, eyes bright. “That you’re not yet married.”

You snort, grabbing a pillow from the couch. “Mr. Ronstein – I’m only twenty-five.”

“Nonsense,” he huffs, as you readjust his position. “People younger than you get married. In my day, you would have been considered a spinster. A beautiful one,” he corrects, grinning at your expression.

You arch a brow, trying not to laugh. Mr. Ronstein is one of your favorite patients. He came into the ER about a week ago with a mild stroke, and is now just waiting on final approval to go home. He’s older but not old, at least not in your terms. Early sixties, fit and healthy – no reason he shouldn’t fully recover. He had an Ischemic stroke, like most strokes are – meaning a blockage in his arteries, not a rupture. Not even a full blockage, so the important thing now will be therapy and lifestyle change.

Mr. Ronstein fully agrees with this, although he likes to wriggle his eyebrows when the doctor’s not looking and say, “Except for the occasional cigar.”

That’s when you groan, saying no. Then Mr. Ronstein nods, pretending to be serious while simultaneously throwing a wink. It never fails to make you smile, mostly because despite the situation, Mr. Ronstein is always positive. He talks about this entire thing as a wake-up call, an order to de-stress his life. Eat better, drink less, see his kids more. That sort of thing.

It’s one of the best parts of your day to check on Mr. Ronstein – which is why you’re here, taking a break between patients. “People younger than me are not in medical school,” you remind him, grinning over your shoulder.

Mr. Ronstein looks up suspiciously. “Your next retort is usually that you aren’t even dating. Does this mean you are seeing someone?”

You remain silent, but a blush creeps over your cheeks as you grab his chart from the couch.

Mr. Ronstein starts to laugh. “You are! You’re dating someone! That was fast,” he chortles. “Come on, tell me who. If he’s not up to code, I’ll snuff the guy.”

You shake your head, about to retort when Jackson pops his head into the room. “Greg!” he grins, slapping the door frame. “I hear that you’re going home! Thank god, we need some actual sick people up in this place.”

Mr. Ronstein chuckles. “Jackson Wang,” he shakes his head. “I will miss seeing your face.”

Jackson looks your way. “How’s your car?” he asks, managing to keep a straight face.

You blush, remembering the fervent make-out session of last night. Jackson’s hands in your hair, hips pressed to yours, lips on your throat – your cheeks must be tomato-red.

Mr. Ronstein looks suspiciously from you to Jackson, then back again. “Jackson?” he repeats, startled. “You’re dating Jackson?”

Freezing in place, you find you can’t say a word.

Mr. Ronstein starts to laugh. “Well, I’ll be. You two have been mooning over each other for long enough now. Good going, man,” he stage-whispers at Jackson.

Jackson grins back at him, giving a huge thumbs-up.

“Hello?” you glare, watching both adopt guilty expressions. “I’m standing right here.”

“Right.” Jackson blinks innocently. “That’s why I’m saving all the dirty bits until you’re out of the room.”

Groaning, you grab the charts from the couch. “There haven’t been any dirty parts, Jackson. You only kissed me yesterday.”

“And whose fault is that?” Jackson complains, eyes wide. “I would have asked you out sooner, if you hadn’t been ignoring me.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you announce, shaking your head. “Rounds.” On the way out though, you gently brush Jackson’s elbow. “See you later.”

“Well, aren’t you kids cute,” Mr. Ronstein deadpans.

Jackson looks indignantly back. “I am not cute,” he frowns, placing a hand on his heart. “I am chic and sexy.”

“Yeah,” you snort before leaving. “Okay, Jackson. Bye, Mr. Ronstein!”

Jackson is still protesting when you go, smiling as you move down the hall. Last night was – well, the word amazing comes to mind. You kissed until you couldn’t breathe, until your lips were numb and you forced yourself to pull away. Then you just stood there, leaning against your car and staring at Jackson.

He asked you out on a date, asked you out for this Friday – the first night off the two of you happen to have at the same time. One of the perils of working at the same hospital. Despite this, Jackson manages to find ways throughout the week to let you know he’s thinking about you. Sending texts, grabbing coffee or lunch.

The strangest part about dating is Jackson seems genuinely interested in getting to know you. He flirts, sure – but then asks you questions about your day. Listens to the words that you say, remembers them later. It’s a change from your previous relationships. Guy after guy who just wanted an accessory. Someone to point at and say they’re dating, all the while not caring about the why’s or how’s.

Admittedly, this is one of the main reasons you haven’t dated anyone in so long. When you’re in a relationship, you want things to mean something. You want to be with the person, just that person – a feeling which doesn’t happen often, for you. It’s nice, having someone who takes care of you, who asks about you – it’s nice, having someone to do the same. The more you get to know Jackson Wang, the more you like him.

An entire week passes, with your nerves growing and growing the closer Friday gets. It’s been a long while since you went out with someone you cared for. With someone you liked and wanted to impress. It’s enough that come Friday, you spend a half an hour that morning picking out your outfit. Trying on and discarding dress after dress in a heaped pile on your floor.

That one is too girly. That one too serious. That one is yellow; it doesn’t work with the shoes you want to wear. That one has a weird bow, a rip in the hem. Slowly, the pile grows – along with your nerves. It’s around the twenty-fourth dress you fall down on the pile. Staring blankly into your closet and spotting your skirts. Yes. You scramble upwards, pulling out one you bought weeks back, in case you had a fun night out. The price tag is still on, but it’s perfect. Fun, flirty – sexy enough to make Jackson’s eyes widen.

You place it in your gym bag, along with a top and heels. Slinging this over your shoulder, you head out the door only a few minutes late. From the moment you enter the hospital, it’s chaos. People are rushing back and forth, a sense of urgency in the air while you hastily throw on your scrubs.

“What’s going on?” you ask, skidding into place beside Marie.

She turns to look at you, lips white. “Accident,” is all she says – but you understand.

Your heart races as you nod. “Where are we short-staffed?”

Marie glances down the hall. “I think Dr. Banshin could use help, in room 211.”

You glance to where she’s looking. “Dr. Banshin?” you repeat, wishing she’d said anyone else. You haven’t seen or spoken to Dr. Bashin since the incident. Not since you botched that lumbar puncture and were sent awkwardly away. All the feelings of that day come flooding back. The embarrassment, the inadequacy, the sure, sinking feeling of not being good enough.

But then Jackson’s speech enters your mind. The words he reassured you with, his rather high opinion. He thinks you have what it takes to make it here. Everyone messes up, you remind yourself – it’s what you do after, which counts. Thinking this, you square your shoulders. “Alright,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I’ll go help.”

Entering the room, Dr. Banshin looks up. His gaze flicks briefly over you, before adopting an expression of neutrality. “Y/N,” he nods, looking back down. “Are you just going to gape, or will you begin the procedure?”

You smile, remembering the last time he said this to you. Then you square your shoulders, shutting the door behind you. “Yes,” you nod, hastening over to the sink. “I’m ready.”

The day is a small miracle.

Everyone involved in the accident manages to pull through. It’s one of those rare good days, where everything seems to come together at the right time in the right place. The accident itself was brutal – a slippery road, sudden mudslide and a driver who spun into oncoming traffic. It was amazing no one died upon impact. Instead, one car was clipped to be sent careening into the forest. It broke through several fences before eventually colliding with a tree.

The other car wasn’t so lucky, hitting the median straight-on. A family was in that car – mother, father, two teenage daughters. The daughters were lucky enough only to sustain minor injuries. Bruised ribs, light concussions, external cuts and bruises. None of which necessitated surgery. The father and mother though – one had a punctured lung, the other internal bleeding. After emergency surgery, twelve hours later, things are finally starting to stabilize.

The man who hit the tree was trickier. Broken femur, severe concussion and a fractured shoulder. Made all the more difficult by the fact that he was anemic. You’ve spent all day running between various rooms, helping in whichever way you can. Doing paperwork, watching over people’s shoulders and holding instruments. Watching as one by one, multiple doctors’ faces fell in relief. They stare down at their charts, hardly daring to believe when they see everyone will make it.

Everyone got here in time. There was nothing so life-threatening you couldn’t help. You end up staying several hours later than you mean to. The place is just so chaotic, you barely have a moment to breathe – let alone think about your night out. You’re trudging towards the on-call room, pulling your hair out of your ponytail when you see Jackson rounding the corner.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, eyes widening. “I – Jackson, I’m sorry. Our dinner reservation,” you pause, down glancing at your watch. “It was now,” you wince. “Wasn’t it?”

The two of you meet in the middle of the hall and it’s then you notice that Jackson, too, looks exhausted. “It’s okay,” he offers, smiling feebly. “I’m late as well.”

You exhale, glancing up at the changing rooms. “Okay. Just give me twenty minutes. I’ll wash my face, put on a dress and,” you pause, tired just thinking about it. Today has been satisfying, but draining. If you’re being honest, you’re completely wiped.

You look up, as Jackson’s hand touches your arm.

“What about,” he raises an eyebrow. “You come to my place. Or I come to yours. I’ll cook, we can order pizza. We can watch a movie and relax.”

“Well,” you pause, then nod. “That sounds amazing.”

A grin lights up Jackson’s face. “It’s a date,” he announces. “Let’s change and then – my place?”

“Okay,” you agree. “But Jackson – there’s no way you’re cooking. You’ve been here just as long as I have. Let’s get that pizza.”

“Okay,” Jackson pushes open the door to the men’s changing room. “Not that me cooking was going to be fancy, Y/N. Just two really spicy ramen packets.”

The door falls shut behind him, and you hurry to get your things. On the drive to Jackson’s, you lean your head against the window. Stomach fluttering at the thought of what him driving means. Jackson said he can drive you back tonight to get your car, if you wish. Or you can stay, and he can drive you back in the morning. The second option is the one giving you butterflies. Just the thought of spending the night, with or near Jackson.

You’re wearing your skirt and heels, slightly out of place but unfortunately, you didn’t bring anything else to change into. Not that Jackson seems to mind – he keeps glancing sideways, shaking his head before looking back at the road.

“I’m glad we’re going to my place,” he mutters, one hand firm on the wheel.

“Oh?” you turn your head. “Why is that?”

“Because,” Jackson smiles, profile lit by the streetlights behind him. “If I had to sit across the table from you wearing that for two hours – I might have gone crazy.”

You laugh, facing forward. “It is fairly uncomfortable. Do you have sweatpants I can change into?” Jackson shifts, quiet for so long you poke his arm. “Is everything okay?” you ask.

He groans, one hand tightening on the wheel. “I can’t decide if that’s better or worse,” he admits. “You in that skirt, or you in my clothes.”

You laugh, pushing him gently. “Get over yourself,” you snort. “I just want to wear sweatpants.”

“Fine, fine,” Jackson nods. “But I’m not responsible for how often I kiss you, then.”

“What a line,” you grumble, glancing out the window – but your reflection smiles back at you. From far behind, Jackson sees as well and smiles back.

His apartment is cleaner than the last time – Jackson grins, ushering you inside.

“Did you do this thinking I would come home tonight?” you ask, eyebrows raised as you lower yourself onto his sofa.

Jackson flushes, moving into his bedroom. “No!” he calls, voice growing further away. “I would never, ever think that!”

When he comes out, he tosses you a piece of clothing. “Thanks,” you murmur, brushing past to go change in his bathroom.

“Pepperoni?” Jackson calls out, already dialing.

“Yes!” you yell, shutting the door and leaning your forehead against the frame. Exhaling deeply, you turn to strip from your clothes. You fold them into a neat pile, pulling on Jackson’s sweats and t-shirt. They smell just like him, cozy and warm while you take a long breath. Feeling only slightly creepy as you sigh, pushing open the door to the living room.

Jackson sits on his couch, also dressed in sweats. He peers from over the top of the fabric. “Come here,” he demands, patting the seat next to him. “I saved you the best spot.”

“What,” you joke, coming around front. “Your lap?”

Jackson winks. “If you like.”

Snorting, you settle beside him. “You wish.”

Jackson just smiles, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you close. You lean into him, even while he turns on his TV. “What do you want to watch?” he asks, flipping through channels. “I have to admit – I was a sucker and bought the most expensive cable package. Name a show, I probably have it.”

You nestle into him. Pleased, when Jackson tucks you closer. “What about Chopped?” your eyes light up. “I have a weakness for cooking shows. I love to work out and watch them.”

“Masochist,” Jackson mutters, changing the channel anyways.

When the pizza arrives, he turns down the sound. Sitting cross-legged while your conversation winds and turns. Jackson finds a bottle of wine from somewhere, pouring you both a glass.

“I knew you could do it,” he grins, taking another bite of pizza. “You nailed that lumbar puncture – er, so to speak.’

You snort, nearly choking on your soda. “I have you to thank for that. Before I went in, I reminded myself of what you said. It really helped.”

“Mm?” Jackson chews, looking thoughtful. “Which part?”

“The part where everyone messes up. That I likely would again – and that sometimes, there might be no one able to help me.”

Jackson stares, setting down his slice. “That part helped?’

You laugh at his expression, nodding. “Yeah. It made me feel like I’m not alone. That everyone has been in my shoes – which was comforting, hearing my thoughts voiced out loud.”

Jackson stares for a long moment, before then smiles. “I feel the same way.”

A long silence passes, one where you draw your knees onto the couch. “Jackson,” you ask, gaze flicking to the TV. “What made you get into medicine?”

Jackson is silent for a long moment. “Do you mean – what made me want to be a nurse, and not a doctor?”

Your gaze moves sideways. “No. Well – maybe. You’re smart, talented, well-liked. Not that nurses can’t be all those things, but it is a very specific job to choose.”

Jackson exhales, looking down. “I did my Undergraduate at Stanford. Did you know that?”

Your eyes widen, shaking your head. “No. I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” he admits, gaze finding yours. “I thought often about applying to medical school, I really did. Every time, I just couldn’t. Ever since I was little, I’ve wanted to be a nurse.”

You set your wine down, before quietly lacing your fingers with his. Jackson smiles at the gesture.

“Why?” you continue. “Why did you want to become a nurse?”

Jackson’s eyes are dark. “When I was young,” he explains, voice soft. “My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She went through intensive chemotherapy and radiation,” he sighs before falling silent, remembering. “My dad worked a lot. My parents were both immigrants, it was hard for both not to work at the same time. I spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals with my mom.”

Your hand tightens, lump suddenly rising in your throat.

“It was hard,” Jackson admits. “But the part which made it bearable, the part I really remember are the nurses. They took care of me. They explained things, in the best way they could. I remember thinking when my mom got discharged, that I wanted to do the same. I wanted to offer people, especially children, the same kind of hope I was given.”

It makes sense – so much. It explains Jackson’s demeanor, his strong desire to help. His selfless personality and when your lift your gaze to his, he’s looking back.

“What are you thinking?” Jackson asks.

Shaking your head, you lean closer. His hand slides to your hair, pushing strands away from your face. “I was thinking,” you say, letting him pull you near. “That I think you’re wonderful.”

Jackson’s face softens, thumb brushing your cheek. “That’s funny,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to the side of your mouth. “Because I feel the same about you.”

He kisses you fully, sinking backwards and drawing you on top of him. Wrapping himself lazily around you, nudging your lips with his own. Your hands wander softly as his own trace your back. His hips finds yours, cupping you to him. You arch upwards, letting his mouth open beneath yours. The touch of him is hard, his motions soft and you don’t protest when he turns you over.

Drawing both your hands over head, Jackson slowly tugs his shirt from your body. This hits the floor, along with his own. You see then, that all his time in the gym is paying off, since Jackson’s body is just as perfect as you thought it would be. The way he stares though, makes you feel like maybe he’s as excited as you are. His gaze traces, followed by his hands, unable to stop himself.

He groans when you lift your hips to his, eyes dark with desire. “Y/N,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

You don’t respond though, pulling him back down. Not objecting when he lifts you up, obediently wrapping your legs around him. Jackson brings you into his room, lays you down on his bed to tall quickly beside you. You arch into him, barely registering how the rest of your clothes disappear. Jackson asks you a question, one to which you nod yes. Nod again, when he drops between your legs. Groan out loud, as your head falls into the headboard.

You say yes again, when he covers himself to thrust into you. Jackson gathers you close, stilling as he kisses you softly. Moving his hips again, pace increasing with each thrust, hands finding yours to come apart at the seams. You hold onto him, since he’s the only thing solid. The only thing you can think about. You hold on to him, even after he pulls away. Even after he falls, happy and exhausted, beside you and lies with you in his arms.

The two of you sleep that way.

Your next shift is Saturday evening. You arrive happy and buzzing, still on a high from last night. Memories of the morning cloud your thoughts – Jackson making you breakfast, driving you to get your car before changing his mind mid-drive and taking you on a walk by the river.

You move slowly, almost dreamily entering the hospital. It’s so unlike you, but you can’t help how you feel. Every time you think of Jackson, you smile. His touch, his laugh, his eyes – it’s impossible to think of anything else, with those thoughts in mind. Jackson doesn’t work until tomorrow morning, so you’ll probably only see him again when you leave.

As you grab your clipboard, you quickly scan the names of your patients for today – and freeze. Reading again, then a third time. It makes no sense. Squinting closer, you shake your head before looking back up. Walking quickly, you grab the arm of first person you see.

“Hey,” you ask, wincing when you recognize Jordan.

She seems tired, as though nearing the end of her shift. Her eyes flick to yours, then away, clearly disinterested. “What?” she asks. “What do you want?”

“I,” you pause, gritting your teeth. “Why does my sheet have Mr. Ronstein’s name on it?”

For the first time you can remember, sympathy enters Jordan’s gaze. It’s this, more than anything which convinces you this is not a mistake. That you haven’t been given last week’s chart in error, haven’t received a misprint of some sort.

Jordan swallows. “He’s back,” she explains. Her hand tenses, as though to touch you before lowering it. “He – well, he had another stroke.”

The hallway grows fuzzier. “What?” you repeat, ears ringing. “No.”

She nods. “It was worse, this time. Hemorrhagic. He’s in a coma right now, Y/N. He probably won’t make it, probably will be taken off life support before the night is over.”

You just stand there. Stand there staring down the hall, struggling to process. No. This is all wrong. Mr. Ronstein was getting better. He’s supposed to be at home, living out his wake-up call. Seeing his kids, eating better, enjoying the occasional cigar. Your throat tightens. Men in his condition, the kind of stroke that he had – he should have had years, at worst. This kind of thing, it – you exhale, shaky.

Jordan is still standing, arms folded across her chest. “Y/N,” she says gently, bringing your attention back to hers. “I need to finish my shift.”

You nod, absent-mindedly. “Yeah. Okay.”

She walks away, leaving you standing there. Staring down the hall, then at the clipboard in your hands. You need to move. Need to keep going because there are other names on this list. Other patients to check in on. You take a hesitant step forward, unsure why your vision is suddenly blurring. No – you know why.

This isn’t right. It’s not fair. But what’s right or fair in life, you think. Stopping midway down the hall to take a deep breath. Pressing fists to your eyes, struggling to contain your emotions. This happens. You know that it does. You send someone home, you think they’re okay – and then something worse occurs. Sometimes the thing is avoidable, sometimes it’s not. This will keep happening, over and over.

You exhale, hands pressed so tight that it hurts. Then you swallow. You can’t let this consume you. Can’t let this destroy you because if you do – you’re no use to anyone. If you do, you’re not a doctor. It’s this which forces you to open your eyes. This, which forces you to take another step, to continue to walk. You place one foot before the other until you round the corner and enter Mr. Ronstein’s room.

His family isn’t here. Likely somewhere else, while they talk things over with the attending. You stare down at his bed, at the tubes and medicine running through while you manage a watery smile. “Hi, Greg,” you say softly.

In the morning, nothing is better. The prognosis is still bleak and Mr. Ronstein’s family decides to take him off the life support. You’re the one who delivers the news. The one who stands there while they debate. You handle their paperwork after, a tiny measure of relief in your body because it means you don’t need to be in the room when he dies.

Immediately following, comes the guilt.

As you leave the hospital the next morning, everything is dazed. You barely see Jackson as you exit, standing before his car in the parking lot. When you do see him, you hike your backpack higher, walk in his direction. Jackson is standing there, looking as though he’s lost in thought. His phone he holds loose in his fist, expression confused looking out at the cars.

“Hey,” you murmur, coming to a stop beside him. “Morning.”

Jackson’s gaze flickers, before meeting you own. He looks surprised, and you notice with some shock that his eyes are rimmed in red. “Hi,” he breathes, zeroing in on your face. “I – hi.”

You tilt your head. “Is everything okay?” you ask, since he seems off. “It’s been a pretty crappy night at the hospital. I hope the day shift goes better.”

Jackson lifts both eyebrows, opens his mouth to speak and shakes his head. “Yeah,” he breathes, sounding lost. “I hope so, too.”

His voice is wrong, though. It’s too tight, his eyes are without focus and you take a small step forward. Forgetting your night, forgetting everything that’s happened to place both hands on his arms. “Jackson,” you demand, waiting for him to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

Jackson looks your way. His eyes find yours, for only a second. “My dad just called,” he manages.

“Oh?” Unsure why, your heart starts to pound. “What about?”

“My mom.” Jackson can barely get out the words. His mouth tightens around them, and he swallows. “They found a lump in her breast. They’re doing a biopsy but Y/N,” he half-breaks, needing to look away. “They think she’s re-lapsed.”

[Master List]

#jackson wang smut #got7 smut #got7 fanfic #jackson wang fanfic

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draw-you-coward · 5 years

Text

[ask sent in that i’m unnaming for the sender’s privacy, considering the info involved. posted with permission!]

“I think I figured out why I love the ikael series so much, and it's just like... honest and genuine and scathing writing of being neurodivergent and in relationships and dynamics and all the good and bad things that happen because of it? I'm allistic but have other things going on but Ikael is so hugely relatable? Every chapter it's like, oh, fuck, I do that, I've been there??? (1/2?)

And it's so inexplicably healing and cathartic to read that and then have it come to a happy resolution bc the people involved are in healthy and supportive and nonnormative relationships (I can't express in words how much I love Thancred and Ikael's qpr and their cohabitation/co-parenting ish and the whole family dynamics of the scions and all) bc like, in my experiences, these things have been very negative and traumatizing and like, (2/3)

...I haven't had ppl in my life who really know how to support me in the specific ways I need when I'm like nonverbal or shutting down or having a panic attack or whatever? It's just, so good to read queer neurodivergent characters fucking being human and flawed and also like being in healthy relationships and supporting each other with things I've given up on other people being able to support me on? (3/3″

~*~ (reply below the cut)

Honestly, that’s why I started to write what I did.

I started ikael off as a sort of joke character, and when i wanted to write something with thancred, i substituted my woL for him because oddly i found he had a lot more chemistry? ikael was sort of there for when i wanted to write about something i found the game writing didn’t resolve properly, or i wanted to explore more. eventually, as his character began to take shape, i started to find him... really cathartic, and started to make the series about him instead of just being named after him (which i do for all my characters because it’s simple and to the point lol).

I was hesitant to make ikael autistic, because it was just in the wake of myself finding out I was autistic, and i didn’t want to do it wrong (and frankly there was a mote of internalized ableism and denial there too spun from a lifetime of misinformation) and i had mostly been writing him as “well i do this lol/it doesn’t have to have a label”. but since i have - there’s a turning point somewhere early ikael.series where you can sort of tell it happens - i’ve found it astonishingly easy to relate to him, much more than i ever have with allistic characters! i’ve since received similar responses from other people, and it warms my heart ;w;

i actually hesitated to even make him openly gay at first! (he always was by design lol) which sounds wild . but the fandom, minus aymeric/estinien shippers, was pretty heteronormative! especially with ikael being a “catboy”, and myself being unfamiliar with anime tropes like that and the final fantasy genre in general. i didnt know how it would be received, or whether people would think i was “just another cis girl fetishizing gay men” (nevermind that im,, nb and not even attracted to men :p) making him aro was weirdly a little harder for me to decide. i’m aroace. there’s always been an element of “well people mock aros and/or aces” and i still see posts on my dash making fun of qprs and telling people “those are just friendships lmao jfc people go outside”. so once again i didn’t know how it’d be received

ok i’ve waaay gone off topic sorry! but yeah man at the bottom of the line, if we can’t have it, and if this world won’t allow it, i want to create a space where it exists. it’s one of the biggest reasons why i never create any conflict related to identity or relationships (homophobia, transphobia, everything listed above) in my canon. we already have that to a frankly staggering extent. what we don’t have is resources for autistic people, for neurodivergent people, we don’t have the common understanding and acceptance for mental health that should frankly be universal . i’m writing mostly for myself and people like me (in whatever way that is), yes. im also writing for people who don’t have an understanding of these things so they can develop a healthy one. i’ve said this before but i’m never going to purposefully write a conflict that’s unresolved, or resolved in an unhealthy way. im not going to hurt the characters without healing them. i dont write unresolved angst or trauma. at the very most, i take my time with long term trauma, because that can’t be fixed in 3k words! again, ive said this before: people do what i dont, and that’s great! im not attacking it; i even like reading it sometimes. but that’s not the purpose of my writing.

thanks for sending in your thoughts! <3

#ask #yeah man #lol

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mendespideys · 6 years

Text

The Intern pt. IX

Pairing: Reader x CEO!Tom Holland

Summary: You’re finishing your last year of university in London, and what better way do to that than with an internship at Holland and Osterfield’s?

Warnings: nsfw, if you squint and brief mention of a car accident. i was also too lazy to proofread

A/N: I think some of you might like this chapter ;)) nothing too important happens, but still important for future chapters. let me know what you think - i love hearing your thoughts!

a lil note: some of you might have noticed that i changed my url to @ sunsetspidey ☼ most, if not all, of my writing is tagged under #ironwriting, so you can still find it!

After what feels like an eternity, Harrison makes his way on stage with Tom hot on his tail. The guests quickly notice and the constant murmur of people talking quiets down as the two young heads of the company step toward the microphone. Harrison speaks first, once again thanking everyone for coming. He mentions specific companies and people, some of which you recognize from your work. You try your best to listen to him but you find yourself focused on Tom, trying to decipher the look plastered on his face. He doesn’t appear to be angry or sad, but he doesn’t look happy either. His eyes look almost empty. Harrison steps away, allowing Tom to take his place.

“As my best mate, Harrison just said, we are extremely grateful to have you all here. I would also like to thank everyone who helped make this event possible. Harrison, his marketing team, our charity director, Lilian, our intern, Y/N, who designed the beautiful invitations that a lot of you received.”

Tom’s formal ‘thank you’ speech drowns out at the mention of your name. Cecelia and Harrison’s mother both smile at you and you flush, feeling other eyes on you as well. Although you feel incredibly flattered, you had never expected or anticipated a thank you - let alone in front of everyone. Clearing your throat, you redirect your focus back to Tom as the cheery mood falters a bit.

“As many of you know, this gala has a special place in my heart. I, um, lost my parents and younger brother in an accident a little over a year ago,” Tom explains and you hear a soft gasp escaping your best friend. She quickly looks at you and you just nod, looking back at your boss as he continues,

“My brother was only fourteen and he was taken way too early. I started a foundation in his name. A foundation created to help young children, sick or healthy, do things they have always dreamed of. This foundation was created to help them live out the dreams and do the things my younger brother never had the chance to do. So, please, don’t be shy with your donations. I can promise you that there are hundreds of children out there who will appreciate every single penny. Again, thank you, and please enjoy yourselves!”

You quickly wipe at your eyes, careful not to smudge the eyeshadow Cecelia had worked on, wondering if you had been the only one who noticed the slight crack in Tom’s voice. Your best friend croaks out a laugh, quickly using the back of her hand to remove the escaping tear. The crowd erupts into an ovation, your table quickly joining in on the celebration. A few other representatives from other businesses share short speeches, mostly just encouraging everyone to donate and to show Tom and Harrison some support. You’re not really paying attention, too busy trying to figure out where Tom was. You had to apologize.

“I’m so proud of you, boys. I think you’ll get a lot of donations,” Harrison’s mother gushes as the two heads of the company sit back down at the table.

“Y/N, come here, would you? I wanna show you something,” Tom whispers, leaning in closer so you can hear him.

You can smell his cologne - the same one he wore the night you met him - and nod, not trusting your voice. He scoots his chair back, holding his arm out for you. You grab it, allowing him to help you up from the chair. Too scared to ask him where he’s taking you, you follow him silently. Tom doesn’t make an effort to release his arm from your grip, so you don’t either. You can’t help but feel slightly tense, but Tom doesn’t appear too bothered and you conclude it must just be you. You walk with him through the crowd and a hallway with different photos of animals until you reach the elevator.

Watching curiously as he presses the button for the third floor, you try to ignore the itching feeling from the uncomfortable silence. Still not being sure if he was upset with you or not was gnawing in the back of your head and your frustration was quickly growing. The elevator moves too slow for your liking and your thoughts become overbearing. Tom leans back against the railing in the bright elevator as you twiddle your thumbs, inwardly debating whether or not to speak up.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, not being able to hold it any longer. Tom looks at you questioningly. “About bringing up your family and-”

The elevator comes to an abrupt stop and the doors open with the sound of a small bell. You stumble slightly in your heels and Tom immediately reaches out, but you’re able to steady yourself. He shakes his head, motioning for you step out. You follow his instructions and he follows you. You’re about to continue your apology but the view stops you. You look around the dark-painted hallway and the various butterflies scattered around on a string of fairy lights. The beautiful decorations continue down the long hall and you stare in awe, breathing out an almost silent ‘wow’.

“I, uh, took Paddy here once. He loved it. You kinda remind me of him in some ways, no offense, so I thought you’d like it, too,” Tom explains quietly.

You nod. “I love it. It’s so beautiful.”

The two of you begin your exploration. You have no trouble understanding why his younger brother had loved it so much. Walking through the dark walls and looking at the various butterflies and other insects was an adventure in itself. Neither of you said much, just taking in the atmosphere and reading the different plaques with information about each species. An occasional ‘hey, look at this’ or ‘that’s awesome’ is exchanged but nothing more. Neither of you mind. It’s comfortable and once again, you seem to forget the fact that Tom is your boss.

The expedition continues and you lose track of time. It feels like you’ve been away from the crowd for hours, but it feels like you’ve only been with Tom for minutes and you don’t want it to end. A shiver runs through your body and you curse yourself for not being able to handle any cold. Although, the airconditioning seemed to be running, which was unnecessary in the middle of the December. The exhibition is quiet, so naturally, when you hear rustling, you look up to investigate. Tom is shrugging off his blazer and before you can question him, he hands it to you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how cold it must be for you. Here you are.”

You hesitantly take the article of clothing he was offering, a sigh of relief escaping you as you slipped into it. The warmth was instant and you welcomed it with open arms. It also smelled just like him, but you would never tell him that. Tom chuckles and you glance up at him. Even with your heels, Tom still towered a few inches taller than you. The dimly lit hallway casts shadows on his face, but you’re still able to see his features. His comforting eyes meet yours and you can’t bring yourself to look away. Normally, eye contact like this would you squirm uncomfortably, but it was different now. It was uncontrollable and innocent, and you enjoyed it.

It happens before you can read the situation. Tom leans down slightly and without even realizing, you tilt your head upwards and your lips meet. It feels just like the night when you had met him, if not better. It’s soft at first; gentle, and almost a little hesitant. The little angel on your shoulder continuously scolds you, telling you how wrong this is. Thankfully, the little devil also perching on your shoulder quickly silences him. Your kiss deepens. An arm wraps around your waist and Tom pulls you so you collide with his chest. Your fingers tangle within Tom’s shirt, definitely crumbling the fabric, as your lips move together with hunger.

Briefly distancing himself, he steps backward before pushing you up against the wall. A sound of surprise escapes you, but it’s muffled by his lips. His tongue asks for permission and you accept, not being able to control the sounds of pleasure leaving your mouth. His large hand cups your cheek, his fingers tangling in your loose curls. He accidentally loosens the strand of hair being held back by the hair clip, but you barely register it, too preoccupied with the countless emotions consuming you. Your lungs ache from the lack of oxygen and despite not wanting to, you pull away. The two of you stand silently as you try to catch your breath. Tom’s close enough for you to feel his warm breath everytime his chest falls, but you want him even closer.

“How does my apartment sound, darling?” The slight cockiness in his voice excites you further.

“Perfect,” you mumble almost instantly, your mind still not clear from the feeling of his lips against yours.

♡ my beautiful readers ♡

the intern: // @errorloadinghappiness // @chamilsanya // @moose-munch // @all-the-best-people-are-weird // @starkviibes // @quackson-queen // @hollands99 // @safetypin-inspace // @aquzrius // @tom-hollands-eyelash // @greenarrowhead // @obsesivesun // @pignolithecookie // @justmesadgirl // @satellitespidey // @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel // @butithasntkilledyouyet // @smexylemony // @95lover // @spirito-della-tartaruga // @shannonxbarnes // @softspideyboy // @slut-for-fandoms // @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell // @blueeyedbesson // @phoenixherron // @attractiveoctagon // @hermionedeservesbetterthanron // @theclearblues // @blisshemmings // @inneedoftomholland // @competativekook // @love-untiltheresnoloveleft // @spinneret-holland // @whatanight13 // @sherizaraiyah // @thesamebutwonderfullydifferent // @whatdafricklefrackle // @imagine-that-100 // @theirmidgardian // @lucille-lovely // @livingincompletesilence // @spider-tay // @tomhollanders2013 // @haz-thetics // @notes-from-my-journal // @life-still-confuses-me // @naeniiie-blog // @greenarrowhead // @johnmurphys-sass // @sunshine96love // @twinklestqr

permanent: @spideymood // @parkerstan // @smexylemony // @blueeyedbesson // @embrace-themagic // @hazeyholland // @notimeforthemessenger // @alilblogger // @elentiya02 // @whileinparis // @marvel-language // @lizziemariejackson // @allofthebitters // @tominhoodies // @meaganjm // @notunlimited // @marvelismylifffe // @inspiredbynewt // @takemyvirginitystone // @parkerssweb // @tom-hollands-eyelash // @dangerousluv1 //

tom: @tomhollanders2013 // @people-leadingcauseofstress // @theirmidgardian // @lucille-lovely // @naeniiie-blog // @twinklestqr //

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h-styles-babes · 6 years

Text

What About Us? | Part IV

Read Part III here.

FOUR

The rest of April passed without much fanfare. The pictures that got released of Harry and Val were still making the rounds on social media, but because they hadn’t been pictures together again since, the hype had died down. Val could easily enough avoid any nasty messages on social media because they were much fewer and farther between, which was nice, she supposed.

Harry didn’t really officially make it back to London until early May due to his promo schedule. After being in America for a little over a week, he came back to London to make an appearance on the Graham Norton Show, and then it was straight to France to appear on Quotidien (where Val begrudgingly admitted to Nick that Harry looked very good, and her body betrayed her in its reaction to him. She couldn’t help it. The hormones made her horny. Or, that’s what she told herself, at least.)

As he’d promised, he was back in London in time for their next appointment. They went on a Sunday morning, when the office would usually be closed. However, due to Harry’s traveling schedule, the doctor had made an exception for them, which Val had thanked him for profusely. Much as the last time, they went in through the employee entrance, and they were greeted by Sara, who was smiley and seemed to be genuinely happy to see them again.

“Glad yeh both could make it,” she said as she ushered them into the nurse’s station where she instructed Val to step on the scale.

About a week and a half prior, Val’s tummy had popped out seemingly overnight. She now had a pretty sizable bump, and you could definitely tell that she was pregnant. Her roommates had gushed over it, extremely excited that she now looked like a proper pregnant woman. They’d squealed over the possibilities of the gender, mostly just excited to be able to start buying cute little outfits and toys once they found out the sex. Her parents, who Val had been out to dinner with the previous Saturday, had beamed when they’d seen her new belly. Her mum told her she looked like a glowing mum-to-be, and Val couldn’t hold back the smile she’d given her own mother.

She was finally getting to the point where she was excited about having a baby. The first few weeks had been filled with turmoil and just overall shock that she was even pregnant to begin with. Then with Harry leaving to be the international star that he was, it was all just made that much more stressful. The pictures that had been posted of them hadn’t made things any better. But now that she’d had about a month to come to terms with everything, she got excited little flutters when thinking about becoming a parent. She couldn’t wait to see her baby on the monitor that day, and hopefully learn the sex so her and Harry could get to picking names and making arrangements at their respective homes.

Val had been expecting a significant weight gain with the new addition to her body, and all the pregnancy books’ proclamations that the baby was now the size of a large mango or a grapefruit or what have you. So, when she stepped on the scale and saw she’d only gained seven pounds from her last appointment, she was quite pleased. She felt like she’d gained fifteen, but she supposed the shifting of her pelvis to accommodate the pregnancy was probably to blame for that.

Sara took down Val’s vitals and chatted with Harry about his recent travel as she escorted them into their room. Harry was excited about the impending release of his album, and while Sara didn’t seem to be a big fan, she was just as excited for him. He seemed so genuinely happy and proud that she couldn’t help but smile largely at him and congratulate him. Harry soaked it up, obviously, beaming back at her and thanking her for her kind words.

The twinkle in their eyes made Val uncomfortable in a way that she wasn’t willing to admit to, and she hated that she felt that way. She knew it was jealousy that was creeping up in her belly, but she pushed that aside. She knew Sara wasn’t flirting with Harry, since she more than likely assumed that Val and Harry were together. However, the same could not be said for Harry. He had no attachment to anyone, as far as Val knew, and so there was no reason that he wouldn’t flirt with Sara. The young nurse was around their age, and she was pretty with her silky blond hair and pink-tinged lips. She was exactly the sort Harry went for normally. Val was the one that was out of the ordinary for him. It was a surprise that they’d made it as long as they had together. Maybe it was inevitable that they broke up in the explosive way that they had. There was no way what they had were to ever last. Val had only been kidding herself if she thought they’d make their relationship last longer than it had.

Val had to force a smile when Sara had bid them farewell and told them the doctor would be in with them shortly.

Since she’d started showing, Val had taken to wearing baggier clothes to conceal it as much as she could, so Harry hadn’t had the opportunity to see the new evidence of their child. So, he was a bit surprised—pleasantly so—when Val pulled up her shirt for the doctor to take the doppler to it.

She was fuller at the bottom, where her stomach flowed into her pelvis, and she stayed plump until just above her belly button. Harry was a little taken with the figure. He’d always been amazed by pregnant women, from their ability to create life to the way they looked with the rounded bellies. Everything about it was appealing to him. A subconscious part of him was proud of himself for getting Valentina pregnant, in a sort of primal way. And he was emotional seeing proof of her carrying his child.

“Can I?” Harry asked, voice a bit hoarse as he held his palm open just above her belly. He’d wanted to experience her first pregnancy as her husband, being able to love on her and her little belly any time he wanted. Having to be relegated to this position where he had to ask permission for everything like they were strangers was a blow to his heart. He couldn’t believe they were in this position. He never wanted it to be like this.

“Of course, Harry,” she assured, seeing the raw emotion in his eyes. They were a bit glassy, like he was holding back tears, and she couldn’t take the way it tugged at her heart. As much as she was upset at him for everything, she couldn’t deny him the opportunity to be as close to this pregnancy as he could be. It was the least she could do for him when they weren’t in a relationship anymore.

When he hesitated, Val reached out herself and pressed his hand to her belly, on the side where the doctor wasn’t moving the wand around. Val left her hand on his as his long fingers encased a good part of her abdomen. Harry heaved out a sigh and let his shoulders relax from the tensed position he hadn’t realised they’d been in. With his conversation with Nick fresh in his mind, and the anxiety it had been causing him, this moment was like a breath of fresh air. He felt relieved, in a sense, that Val was allowing him to touch her. Surely, it was only for his sake, and he knew that, but it still seemed like a small victory.

“Baby’s cooperating today,” Dr. Christiansen proclaimed, clearing his throat to try to break the moment the couple was having as polite as possible. He sensed there was a backstory to whatever was going on between them, but it really wasn’t his place to pry. He was just here to make sure mum and baby made it through happy and healthy.

“Can yeh tell the sex?” Harry asked, perking up. He kept his hand against Val’s stomach, but his eyes were transfixed on the screen. He could very clearly make out legs, but seeing as he wasn’t educated in analysing sonograms, he wasn’t sure what else he was seeing.

“I can. Would you like to know?” the doctor asked, smiling warmly at the two.

Harry and Val shared a glance, and with a quick smile to each other, they nodded at the doctor. It seemed even time ad animosity couldn’t take away the intense connection they shared. They’d always been able to tell what the other was thinking, and they had silent conversations easily.

“Baby Styles is a boy.”

Val and Harry didn’t see each other again until he was on the Breakfast Show that Friday for the release of his album. After their appointment on Sunday, he’d gone straight to America, where he performed on the Today Show and sung a song that Val knew was about another girl. She pretended like it didn’t sting a little bit. Enough of the songs on the album were about herself, she knew, but the fact that at least one had been dedicated to someone else smarted a bit. She hadn’t been around for the final cut of the album, either, so who knew what else snuck its way on since the last time she’d listened to it.

Val had had dinner with her parents and brother on Monday evening, and she’d told them the sex of the baby. Her parents were just glad that both their daughter and the baby had been given a clean bill of health once again, but her brother was especially excited at the news. He’d always wanted another boy to interact with, considering their dad’s sister had three girls, and all of their mum’s family was still in Mexico. Poor guy had grown up surrounded by girls since he was little. It was about time that he had a boy to play footie with and do lads things. Val thought it was adorable that Mateo was so happy to be an uncle.

Rebecca and Quinn were over the moon that they were able to go shopping now. They’d been chomping at the bit to find out the sex so they could start drowning Val in cute little outfits and toys. They were somewhat disappointed to find out it wasn’t a girl, because girls outfits were “just so adorable,” they’d proclaimed, but they were excited nonetheless.

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, Val got a phone call Monday midday, from a number she hadn’t seen pop up on her screen in months. It took her a few moments to answer, because her heart was thundering in her ears so loudly she could hardly hear. Finally, after three rings, she’d taken a deep breath and pressed the green button on her screen.

“Hello?” she answered, knowing full well who it was, but not having the mind to really answer any other way.

“Val, darling, it’s Anne.”

Just hearing her soothing voice and motherly tone was enough to set Val at ease. She let out a breathy laugh as she smiled hugely. Harry’s mother had always had this sort of affect on her. It was always nice to hear from her, and she’d been there as a shoulder to cry on, even during times when she was crying about Harry. Anne had always understood, and Val was infinitely grateful for it.

“I know, Anne. How are you?”

“I’m fantastic, dear. Harry’s just told us the news. Can’t believe I’m gettin’ a grandson.”

The smile in her voice was evident, and Val was glad that she was so happy. She’d spent much of the last few months thinking that Anne resented her because of the breakup, but it was good to hear her in such high spirits, especially with everything that was going on with their family.

“Yeah, my mum and dad are excited, too. Mateo’s glad to have a nephew,” Val laughed.

“Gem’s kinda disappointed it isn’t a girl, but she’ll get over it,” Anne snickered.

Gemma was another point of contention for Val. Her and Harry’s sister had gotten along so well. They were best friends. But ever since the breakup, they’d barely spoken. Right after she’d heard, Gemma had called Val to sympathise over how big of a prat Harry was, and she’d let Val cry a bit over the phone. They’d gone out the next week to have coffee as well, and things had seemed fine. But Val hadn’t heard from the other girl since then, aside from the occasional tag in a meme on Twitter or Instagram. It was sad, really. Valentina missed her dearly.

“Gem’s just gonna have to have her own babies, isn’t she?” Val joked.

“Can yeh tell her that?” Anne asked, sounding exasperated. “Thought I’d get a grandbaby out of her first. She’s laggin’ a bit.”

Val chuckled. “Leave her alone. She’ll come around eventually.”

Without even being in Anne’s presence, she could sense the sudden shift in mood. Where they had previously been jovial and a little giddy, it was now more somber, and Val could already tell where this conversation was headed. She hadn’t spoken to Anne since the breakup, and she knew the possibility of her having questions that Harry hadn’t answered was high. While Harry was open with his mother due to their close relationship, Anne was already going through her own hardship. It was entirely possible that he wasn’t telling her everything because he wanted to lessen her worries. While Val and Harry’s relationship wasn’t really Anne’s responsibility, she loved both of those kids with her whole heart, so she was involved almost as much as they were. Anne had been the first one to believe that they were going to get married. She’d been properly crushed when Harry had told her they’d broken up.

“How are you lot handling this?” Anne asked, her tone more soft and careful. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds, but she was concerned. She had a feeling her son wasn’t telling her everything, and she could count on Valentina to be candid with her.

Val sighed. “As best as we can, honestly. We’re just focused on the baby. It’s still early, so we haven’t made any concrete decisions yet.”

“Baby’s gonna be here faster than you imagine,” Anne warned. “And there’s lots for yeh to figure out. Custody arrangement, name, not to mention yeh have to decide how the media’s gonna play into this.”

At the mention of a custody arrangement, Val balked and there was a sudden feeling of nausea that settled in her stomach. Custody arrangement was not something any person wanted to have to consider when having a baby. She hadn’t really thought about that up until that moment. She did not want to have to think about all that. She never wanted her baby to have to worry about what parent she was staying with any given day or week. Val herself had been blessed enough to have two parents that had stayed married her entire life. Harry hadn’t been as fortunate, and she knew he had hated having to go back and forth between his mum and dad as he’d been growing up. She knew neither of them wanted to put their son through that, but what choice did they have?

“I know,” Val whispered, and correctly sensing her unease, Anne had changed the subject. Bless her.

Harry was in a special mood come Friday morning.

It was extremely early, even for Val who had been doing these early mornings for years, but Harry came bounding in, looking way too good for how ridiculous she initially thought his suit was, and acting way too peppy. He said good morning to every person he passed in the halls, shook hands with the interns, and even indulged an employee’s little girl to a quick chat, a photo, and a signature on an old One Direction poster she brought along with her. He was just as kind and lovely as he always was, but there was a bit more bounce to his step and giddiness to his face. The release of his first solo album was obviously a big deal to him, and Val was feeling pretty privileged to be here with him on this day. She’d been with him through a lot of the writing and recording process of the album, and to finally see the final result get the love it deserved…it was amazing.

“Good morning, Harold,” Nick greeted while they were off air. Val was sat in her seat just on the other side of Nick, going over the playlist until Harry was to go on and play some of the songs on his album. She was in charge of queuing up the songs each morning, and Nick would make small adjustments when requests came in. It was one of the easier parts of her work days.

“Good morning, Nicholas,” Harry greeted, putting a venti cup of Starbucks coffee down in front of the older man. He bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, which made Nick scrunch up his nose but smile at Harry fondly. “Soy latte with an an extra shot of espresso.”

“Good morning, Valentina,” Harry said, moving on to put down the same size cup in front of Val. He did the same as he had with Nick, but instead of the top of her head, Harry kissed her cheek with a smack that sort of surprised her, but she accepted it, not wanting to bring down his mood with a protest. “And a chai tea latte, since I’m sure yeh’ve already had your one allotted cup of coffee this morning.”

Val grumbled her affirmation, but took the cup thankfully. She really was experiencing pretty hardcore caffeine withdrawals due to the abstinence during pregnancy. It was making her a touch grumpy.

“Thanks,” she hummed, inhaling the spicy scent of the chai. “Good morning, Harry.”

Harry smiled as he took the empty seat beside Val. She thankfully didn’t even react when Harry reached over and placed his hand over her tummy. He gave a soft rub with his thumb over the swell of her belly. “Hows baby doing?”

“Good, been pretty active since the last appointment.” As if he’d heard his mum, the baby gave a firm push against the wall of her stomach, making her jump a little at the abruptness of it. “And now he’s awake, apparently.”

“He’d been still before this?” Harry asked, pressing his hand a bit firmer into the skin to try to feel it again. It wasn’t the first time he felt it, as he’d felt that telltale little bump the day of their appointment, but he was still in awe. There was a little being in there that was moving around and awake.

“Yeah. Hasn’t made a peep. Must know daddy’s here.”

The smile on Harry’s face rivaled any she’d ever seen him give in the entire time she’d known him. His bottom lip slipped between his teeth, and he looked like that boy she’d met all those year ago, just a smidgen cheeky and a lot a bit smoulder-y, and it was really killing her. There was a fluttering in her tummy that had nothing to do with the baby, and she quite liked it. She hadn’t felt it in a while.

It was conflicting, though, because it was Harry.

Her hormones were fucked. She didn’t really like it. She was still hurt and upset, but her heart was still with him. And her body obviously still craved him. She was getting to that point in the pregnancy when she was horny more often than not, and Harry was who popped in her mind in the same vain. And thinking of him intimately like that again after months of suppressing those thoughts made her remember all the great times they’d had together. And then she got all heart-warmed about how great he’d been when he was there. Those cute moments where it was just them and they had fun and they loved each other endlessly. Those drew her in and made her miss him. But she always made sure her head took back over and reminded her that things had been bad when they broke up.

They’re moment was broken by a hesitant but urgent Nick, who had to get Harry on the other side of the desk to start their morning. Val took the rest of the time to listen to Harry and Nick banter back and forth as they listened to his album. She hadn’t paid much mind to the songs, since they were ones she’d heard before. That was until one started in with a dodged explanation from Harry, the guitar cords soft and Harry’s voice even softer.

It only took a few seconds into the song to realise what it was about. Nick had introduced it as From the Dining Table. The lyrics were intensely intimate and sorrowful, and Val’s world sort of paused for the duration of the song. Her eyes locked on Harry’s, who was already looking at her with an intense gaze, which was full of knowing and remorse.

The lyrics stuck in her throat in that awful way that foreboded a crying jag, and that’s exactly what happened a few seconds later as tears stung in her eyes. She sniffled once to try to suppress it, and then it was all over. She excused herself from the room, quickly walking across the hall to the restroom.

It took only a two second delay for Harry to burst in right behind her. Him and Nick had already signed off before that last song, and Jeff had tried herding him away, since he had a One Show to get to pretty soon after the Breakfast Show, but he’d brushed past him to get to Val.

“Valentina,” he called, seeing her stood in one of the stalls, ripping toilet paper off the roll to dab at her eyes.

“What?” she sniffled, voice thick with her tears.

“Can we talk, please?” Harry didn’t want to beg, but he was at the point where he had no other options. They’d gone a month and a half of being reunited, and they still hadn’t talked about any of the things that were weighing heavy on them. Val seemed to be avoiding it every time Harry even attempted to start a conversation about it, and he was sick of it, frankly. He couldn’t take this awkward limbo of trying to coparent and maintain a relationship with her while also having this history of such intense love and compassion between them.

“Not now, Harry,” she sighed. “You’ve got places to be and I’ve got a job to get back to.”

“I don’t think Nick would mind if yeh left for the rest of the day, and I have time.”

“Harry…” she warned. She balled up her wad of tissue and threw it away, a bit bothered by how much of her makeup was coming off into it.

“We can’t keep tiptoeing around all this! We’re havin’ a baby, Valentina. We need to be in this together, and we can’t do that if yeh keep pushin’ me away.”

“Where was this when we were together?” she demanded, angry. She was trying not to raise her voice, since this was her place of work, but she was getting worked up in the worst way. Her feelings of nostalgia from earlier were long gone. “How can yeh care now but not’ve given a shit four months ago? Why are yeh so concerned about our relationship now?” She really hated how sloppy her accent got when she was upset, but she couldn’t care about it now.

“Because I’m still in love with yeh! I want us to be okay for our baby! What about that is so hard to understand?” Harry was gripping at his hair now, his frustration needing to be exuded physically or else he would just about explode.

“What’s hard to understand is why that matters now but not back in January when you’d promised to be there! We broke up because yeh failed to show up when it mattered. All I’ve ever done is support you and be there for you for those important moments, even when it meant missing something that I had planned. But you couldn’t be fucked when it was something that was important to me! All our friends and family were with me to celebrate my first solo broadcast, meanwhile you were out with your mates gettin’ pissed in some bar! And you’ve never even apologised for it.”

“That was one time, Val,” he huffed, pulling at his bottom lip.

“No it wasn’t! You think I broke up with you over a one-time thing? You weren’t there for the celebration when I got hired on at BBC after graduation. You weren’t there for my birthday two years in a row. You weren’t there at my actual graduation. You missed out on a lot of things Harry, and they were all because something in your life was more important than mine. I don’t see how any of that has changed now that I’m pregnant. The baby may be your priority now, but that doesn’t inherently include me. I’d never expect it to, but just because I’m havin’ your baby doesn’t mean I’m gonna fall back into your arms.”

Harry was silent, and Val saw the way his chest heaved with his laboured breath and his jaw ticked as he clenched it. Harry only ever got silent during an argument when he was either too angry and didn’t want to say any words in anger that he may regret later, or when he knew he was in the wrong and really had nothing else to say. Val wasn’t sure if she was ready to face either of them.

Finally, he took a deep breath that seemed to ease him a bit. He closed his eyes on his exhale and didn’t reopen them until he’d let it all out. The emotion she saw in them once they met hers again was heartbreaking, yet there was also something uplifting and determined as well. A determined Harry was something to be wary of, though. He was a force to be reckoned with.

With no warning, Harry took a step closer to her and wrapped her in his arms, cocooning her in his chest. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and kept himself there, even when Val struggled at first. However, she was a sucker for his warm embraces, so it only took her a moment to relax and melt herself into him, tucking herself against him. The comforting, intimate contact after such a long time of only associating Harry with all things negative was too much for her. Her tears started up again, and she couldn’t even blame the hormones on that one. This was all her and her pent up emotions about the only boy she’d ever truly loved, and who she’d never actually fallen out of love with. It was intense.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered into her skin as she sobbed. He clutched her tighter when her frame rattled with them. “I’m so sorry. I was such a shit boyfriend, and I knew I was pushing your important things aside for my own, and I’m sorry. I was selfish and a prick and I never deserved your unwavering support. Yeh can never know how fuckin’ sorry I am. Yeh were my world, and I’m sorry I didn’t show yeh that enough. Yeh deserve so much more than I can ever offer, but I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

And it wasn’t all fixed with his apology. It would take them time to heal and rebuild that trust they’d once had. But it was enough for that moment. It was the first stitch in Val’s tattered heart, but it was enough to keep her going.

#harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #dad!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot

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jarienn972 · 5 years

Text

Only a Little Superstitious - Chapter 23

I didn’t have time to get this chapter posted last night so some may have already seen it on AO3 or FF.net. This is the next to last installment of this story and it’s almost a little bit sad to be wrapping it up. This chapter picks up right after defeating Kronk and jumping into the portal, but did they make it in time to save Killian from the dark magic and all of the injuries Kronk imparted on him?

From the beginning: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 Tagging @killian-whump and @hookaroo. Still a little last minute whump on our pirate here .

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" a bored and still somewhat confused Dr. Victor Whale asked as he leaned against the rear bumper of the ambulance. He and two paramedics had been waiting here in the park for nearly an hour since Regina had summoned them - but they'd arrived to Storybrooke's largest park to find only a gathering of perfectly healthy people. Regina and Snow White had implored him to stay, but he was growing increasingly impatient. "I still don't see the medical emergency you were so adamant about, Madam Mayor."

Regina threw him a perturbed glare as she surveyed the expanse of park grounds herself, watching for any anomaly that would indicate a portal would soon open. This park had the largest open, grassy area in all of Storybrooke which was why it was the place she and Emma had agreed upon.

"Be patient for once, Victor. It's not like you have dozens of other medical emergencies to run off to. Emma might not have been able to get the dagger to work yet. Magic isn't as absolute as your science but they'll be here and Emma specifically stated that Hook would need medical attention. I mean, she can probably heal it all once she returns to Storybrooke's magic but just in case, I need you here, at the ready. The man was stabbed with a dagger that's almost as evil as the Dark One's after all."

"Seems to be a recurring problem," Whale quipped.

"And I will be yours if you don't shut up and just get ready to do your job," a visibly tense David lashed out as he overheard the doctor's commentary about his son-in-law.

"David… didn't see you there…" Whale shrank back, slightly embarrassed that his statement had been heard. "I'll just wait over here until you need my services…"

"You do that," David snapped, turning his attention to Regina. "Anything look out of the ordinary to indicate the portal is about to open?"

"Not yet," Regina replied with a shake of her head, "but it's not always easy to tell when or where a portal might open. You know that, David. Don't worry, she'll get it."

"Emma sounded pretty worried on the phone. She said the fever was back, didn't she?"

"Yes, and you know that too. You heard the same conversation this morning that I did. As soon as they return with the dagger, I can use a spell to draw the dark magic back into the artifact. I'm quite sure that once he's no longer fighting against that darkness, Hook will make a full recovery from the stab wound."

"I hope you're right," David sighed as a gust of wind tousled his hair. "Funny, I don't remember the weather forecast mentioning wind for today…"

"It didn't," Regina smiled as she brushed her own dark locks away from her face, realizing that the sudden strong breeze could be the portal just as the vortex materialized in the middle of the open field. Emma stumbled out first alongside an elderly woman with long, braided white hair.

"Emma!" David cried at the sight of his daughter. He started running toward her as both women collapsed into the grass. A second or two behind them, a dark haired man tumbled out, losing his balance from the sudden impact with the ground and dropping a large bundle that he'd shouldered through the portal. David and Regina instantly realized that the bundle the man had been carrying was the wounded and seemingly unconscious Killian Jones.

Emma had warned that landings could be awkward when you reached the other side of a portal but Carlos hadn't thought to brace for such a sudden stop – especially when carrying the extra weight of his incapacitated friend. He did all he could to minimize Killian's impact, absorbing much of the blow himself as he collided with the largest expanse of real grass he'd ever seen. In a split-second, a blond-haired man was kneeling beside him, carefully lifting Killian's body and moving him to the side while paramedics rushed to the scene as well.

Carlos dusted himself off as he sat up, still slightly dazed and in awe of everything he'd just experienced. He started looking around to see what had become of Emma and Grandmother, turning his head to see the same blond-haired man who'd been kneeling beside him a moment ago now standing and extending his hand toward Carlos, offering to help him to his feet. "I'm David," the blond man announced as Carlos accepted the assistance. "You must be Carlos?"

"Carlos Littlecreek," he replied, shaking David's hand heartily once he was back on his feet. "Thanks for the hand, sir."

"You don't need to call me sir," David chuckled. "I owe you a ton of thanks and we'll definitely have to talk more later. Right now though, I need to check on my daughter and son-in-law." Carlos nodded in understanding as he watched the team of paramedics crouched above Killian, but when it suddenly kicked in that the man who'd helped him up was Emma's father, his jaw went slack. He'd just shook hands with a Prince?

Carlos couldn't see all of what was going on to his right. The paramedics had lifted Killian's limp body onto a gurney, positioned an oxygen mask onto his face and appeared to be attempting to get an IV line in but that was about all he could make out from his vantage point. He diverted his eyes away from the busy medics long enough to finally spot Emma who was being tightly embraced by (and fussed over by)her father and a tiny but fierce looking woman with short, dark hair. Snow White. He was staring at Snow White hugging her daughter. This was surreal…

Grandmother had stepped aside when Emma's parents hurried in to embrace her, but the elder woman knew that Emma's focus was singular. She pulled away from them, trying to reach her husband, only to be intercepted by another dark-haired woman, this one in a tailored business suit. Everyone seemed to be commenting on Emma's hands, undoubtedly concerned about the burns, but Emma kept shrugging off their worry. Looking on, Carlos couldn't help but stare as the brunette he hadn't yet identified hovered her own hands above Emma's burns, seeing the same glowing magic that Emma had used on the mountain. The frown on the brunette's face as the glow faded led him to believe that something hadn't worked as it was supposed to but Emma didn't seem fazed. She simply shook her head and passed the cursed dagger to the other woman then pushed her way over to the paramedics.

"How is he?" Emma asked breathlessly when she was finally allowed to reach her ailing husband's side. David stood next to her with his arm wrapped around her trembling shoulders.

"Not good," was Dr. Whale's blunt response. "His blood pressure is too low and his lungs don't sound good. Several of the sutures appear to be torn open and he's likely bleeding internally as well. Regina told me he was still suffering from the stab wound, but this looks more like blunt force trauma to his rib cage."

"Kronk kicked him in the chest," Emma explained.

"Then we may have a lung puncture here," Whale stated. "Regina, whatever it is you need to do, get it done because you're either going to have to heal him right now or I've got to get him into the ER soon."

"Fine," Regina replied, retrieving a small, glass potion bottle from her pocket. She flicked away the cork stopper and poured the contents of the vial over the surface of the blade. "This should allow me to draw that dark magic back to its source…" She held the blade a few inches above Killian's chest and they all looked on as curled wisps of a grey smoke-like substance were drawn toward the dagger. It didn't take long to pull all of the noxious mist away from Killian, but with his condition already so dire, it felt as though it had been an eternity. "Done. All of the darkness has been contained back inside the dagger. Emma, do you want to try to heal him first before Whale spirit's him off to the hospital?"

"I don't know, Regina," Emma spoke up. "Magic didn't heal the burns on my hands when you tried a moment ago… Maybe magic isn't able to heal wounds caused by magic?"

"I've never known it to be a problem before…" Regina replied, but Whale cut her off.

"Don't you think magic has done enough damage?" the doctor interrupted. "Let medicine take care of him from here…"

"It's a rare occasion that I have to say I agree with Whale," David said firmly. "Victor might not be my favorite person in this town, but I trust his abilities. Emma, you should go too and get those hands looked at. Those burns are really bad."

"Thank you, David," Whale responded with an unusual amount of humility as he accepted the prince's compliment. "We've got to go now though." The two paramedics already had the gurney raised and ready to load their patient in the waiting ambulance as Emma nodded her agreement. Enough magic for this day.

Moments after watching their friends be whisked away in the ambulance, Carlos and Grandmother found themselves standing alone in the middle of the grassy field, trying to take in all they could see of Emma and Killian's hometown. Grandmother first noticed how different the air smelled, inhaling the scents of grass and trees mixed with the salty sea air, all such a drastic contrast to the dry, dusty desert. On the horizon, dense forests of towering trees blanketed the hillsides, nothing like the scrub brush and chaparral dotting the Arizona mountains that Carlos patrolled. He had to drive further north to Flagstaff to find forests even remotely resembling these, and even those were mostly pine. The vistas were nearly as mesmerizing and magical as any of the supernatural events they'd witnessed this morning.

"So that's what magic looks like…" Carlos mused, accenting his words with a nervous chuckle.

"As I've long dreamed, the White Witch did bring magic back to our mountains," the old woman stated, a broad grin etched into her features while she patted her grandson on the shoulder.

"I'm so sorry I doubted you, Grandmother," he laughed. "That was one hell of a ride!"

"Indeed it was," she smiled. "Now, I suggest that you call your employer and let them know that you might not be in for a while."

"Yeah, I already gave them a head's up that I was going to be helping the couple I rescued get home. I just never did say how or for how long. I suppose I should also come up with a story about why the SUV is parked up in the mountains in case someone pings the GPS…"

"My apologies," a woman's voice sounded behind them. "Our town is normally much more welcoming to our guests, but this has been a rather unusual morning…" The Navajo pair turned around to find the brunette in the tailored pantsuit who had minutes ago removed the evil spirits from Killian's body. "I'm Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke. I wanted to be the first to officially welcome you to our magical little town and I wanted to personally thank you for everything that you both did to help Emma and Hook, I mean Killian."

"It's alright," Carlos replied. "We've already been told a few of your real identities, Your Majesty."

Regina flushed a bit as Carlos gave her a polite dip of his head. "I'm heading over to the hospital if you'd like to join me, or if you'd rather, I can drop you off to get something to eat first?"

"That is very kind of you, Ms. Mills," Grandmother replied with a gracious smile.

"Why is it that I feel as though we might have met somewhere before, Miss…?" Regina started her statement before realizing she hadn't been formally introduced.

"Sarah Bending Willow," Grandmother introduced herself, "and no, I don't believe we've met, unless you've been to Arizona at some point. But I have had many people tell me that I remind them of someone."

"That must be it," Regina replied, slightly embarrassed that she'd even asked. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I can drop you off somewhere to get lunch or you're welcome to ride along to the hospital. I just have to pick up my son first…"

"Their lunch is on me," David announced as he approached. He'd seen his family off to the hospital and now wanted to express his own gratitude. "It'll be a while before Emma and Hook are treated so we'd like to show you our thanks. We'd love to have you join us for lunch and we'll give you a little tour of our town."

"We would be honored," Grandmother accepted the offer. "I don't believe it would be polite to turn down a Prince, although the only real thanks we require is knowing that our friends are alright."

"Emma's tired and cranky, insisting that we don't need to worry about her and Hook's stable for the moment," David informed them. "We won't know much more for a while so there's no use in just sitting around here."

"Then we humbly accept your offer," Carlos stated. "I for one could use some food. Hiking up a mountain and then magically portaling across the country certainly builds up an appetite."

Emma's eyes flew open, going wide with fear as she struggled to remember where she was. The pungent smell of disinfectant filled her nostrils making her believe for a moment that she was back in the hospital in Mesa, but no, it was too quiet. No, they'd made it back to Storybrooke she reminded herself as she slowly came to the realization that she was lying on a hospital bed with a tan fabric curtain hanging on either side of her. She gradually remembered how much her hands hurt as she glanced down to see them lightly bandaged and then it all came back to her, except where Killian might be. The last thing she could recall was seeing him laying on the gurney in the ambulance with Dr. Whale fighting to keep him breathing, Killian's face deathly pale. If she was here in the hospital though, he had to be here as well.

"Hello?" Emma called out, hoping someone was nearby who could answer her questions or she'd just have to get up and go find the answers herself. "Is somebody there?" She knew Storybrooke's hospital wasn't near as busy as Mesa's, but it almost seemed too quiet and she was just a tiny bit jumpy when a hand appeared on the curtain to her right.

"Mom, you're awake," Henry smiled as he drew back the curtain, leading Emma to breathe a sigh of relief. "Oh, did I startle you? I'm sorry. The nurse gave you some medicine for the pain after they treated the burns and you fell asleep. They said you could stay here in the Emergency room until you woke up. Not like there's anyone else around…"

"It's okay, kid. How long was I asleep and where's Killian?"

"About an hour and a half and Killian's still in surgery…"

"That long? Where's everyone else?" Emma asked as she bolted upright. "Are they here too?"

"Mom, relax," Henry encouraged as he helped her off of the narrow bed, careful not to bump her scorched hands. "Mr. Littlecreek and Ms. Bending Willow are with Grandma and Grandpa getting the royal tour of Storybrooke."

"Remind me to give them a huge apology later," Emma lamented, but Henry was happy to see that there was a smirk on her face. "Is Regina with them too?"

"No, she dropped me off and stayed just long enough to get an update on both of your conditions. She wanted to get that dagger down to the vault and lock it away as soon as possible."

"Good idea," Emma agreed as the teen helped her out to the guest lounge around the corner where he'd been waiting for her to awaken.

"We can wait here for news on Killian," Henry insisted. "The couch is a lot more comfortable and since I was the only one here, the nurse let me have the TV remote." Emma dropped down onto the chocolate brown faux-leather sofa, trying as hard as she could not to use her hands. "You want a drink or something to eat? There's a vending machine around the corner or I can make a trip down to the cafeteria…"

"You know, kid, I could really go for a cup of coffee and chocolate – any kind of chocolate they have."

"Be right back!"

What little remained of her coffee had gone cold by the time she caught a glimpse of Victor Whale, still clad in his surgical scrubs, emerging from behind a set of double doors. She sprang to her feet, startling Henry who had dozed off on the opposite end of the sofa.

"Victor?" she called to him, not even caring that she was supposed to be quiet inside a hospital. After all, she was the Sheriff. Who were people going to go to with complaints?

"Emma," the doctor acknowledged her as he approached. "Glad to see you looking rested. You'll need to be mindful of those blisters, but your hands should heal up just fine. Thankfully for you, only a few spots were second degree…"

"I wasn't going to ask about my hands, Victor. Killian – how is he?"

"Critical at the moment, but he should make a full recovery. Getting the dark magic out of his system was a huge help, but that blow to his chest could have killed him."

"Because it reopened the sutures?" she asked, remembering the blood soaking through Killian's shirt.

"Among other things," Whale replied. "That kick caused some serious damage – a couple of cracked ribs, collapsed lung and a ruptured spleen. Seriously, how strong was the other guy? Anyway, I also had to put a dozen sutures into that gash on the back of his head. I don't know what exactly happened to you back in Arizona, but it's a damned miracle he's still breathing."

"I want to see him," she insisted.

"He'll be in recovery for a while, but we'll get him moved into a room as soon as possible."

"I want to see him now, Victor," she repeated, her tone unflinching.

"Emma, you know I can't let you in there…" Whale responded, perhaps a bit too confidently.

"And you know that I can find a new way to get you out of my way with just a simple flick of my wrist," she reminded him. "Can we make this easy on both of us?"

Whale set his jaw as he contemplated the options. "Fine, fine… Not like there are any other patients in there with him. You have five minutes, and it's just you. Sorry, Henry."

"It's okay," Henry replied. "Go ahead, Mom. I'll wait here and text everyone to let them know Killian's out of surgery."

"Thanks, kid." Emma wanted to give her son a huge hug or at least a pat on the back, but both of those might have to wait until her hands healed. "Be back in a few…"

For a fleeting moment, Emma was struck with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as she stood at Killian's side. She knew they were home, that they were safe, but her mind was suddenly back in that Arizona recovery room, standing there lonely and filled with trepidation. They'd been separated by curses, thrown into different realms and were even torn apart by death yet she'd ever felt as helpless as she'd been standing at his bedside without the ability to heal his wounds and ease his pain. Even now, there was still a trace of that anguish eating away at her. Now, she possessed the power to heal him with a wave of her slightly-scorched hand but after days fighting to survive complications brought on by magic, she knew Killian would agree that enough was enough. He'd rather suffer the pain of a lengthy recovery than pay the price later for a magical quick fix.

Whale had advised her not to touch Killian, but Emma had never been one to listen, using her fingertips to trace the hollow of his cheek, the angle of his neck and jawline while being mindful of the web of tubes and wires surrounding him. She wanted desperately to squeeze his hand and let him know she was right here with him, but decided against that thought when even a little minor movement of her fingers reminded her of her own discomfort. Instead, she settled on pressing her lips to his forehead, ghosting tiny kisses along his temple until a single teardrop fell from her eye, dropping onto his cheekbone before trailing off into his hairline.

"We're home, Killian," she whispered, not even caring whether he could hear her or not. "We're back in Storybrooke and Victor got you all patched up again. Everyone's just waiting for you to wake up and we'll tell you the whole story. We'll get you through this and I promise, we'll do it without any more magic, unless of course, you decide otherwise…" She gently pulled up the cream colored blanket to cover his bandaged chest, not wanting him to be chilly. "Whale won't let me stay in here long but I needed to let you know, the dark magic is gone. Now, the rest is up to you."

#cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan ff #only a little superstitious

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cowboyjen68 · 6 years

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Heyo jen! What's your opinion on nonbinary lesbians? I'm one, and Ive been feeling kinda bad about it lately because I tried to join a lesbian groupchat and was denyed and laughed at because apparently I can't be a lesbian and nonbinary....

I had a whole bunch of stuff typed and then my cat Onyx walked over the key board and...gone... all of it. It was a sign from the universe to rest and think it over and have some inner dialogue. It just so happens that a non binary person messaged me and told me their story and experience. I appreciated the trust and honesty they showed me.

I can’t always change my mind, or heart, but it never does me any harm to learn. What I learned was that I hold some of the same biases as the women in the chat group do, the difference is, I try very hard to never be an asshole just because I don’t understand something.

I strongly believe that we all have the right to form spaces to be with people we chose to be with and to set boundaries, as long as the “group” is not tipping the balence of power in an aggressive way. BUT I also think kindness is best. It is okay to say “this group is not a space for non binary lesbians”. It is not okay to be a jerk about it.

SO I am going to tell you my honest thoughts from BEFORE I had some dialogue, both on line and in person. I understood non binary to mean that a person exists sort of between both genders, not always feeling like one or the other. i also knew that there are a myraid of reasons why someone might choose to ID as non binary.. some based in escaping our cultural issues some on internal feelings, some of what aesthetic the person is comfortable in from day to day. My opinion was that in my head.. I get it.. Not connecting soley to male or female based on phyical sex traits. That is is not the same as trans, although they can intersect for sure.

I thought that non binary people were mostly aligned with their physical sex, but chose to ID as male or female as a way of ‘controlling” circumstances that make them uncomfortable. I don’t think I am way off base, because I have heard this as a valid reason many times. I spoke to many non binary people who id as “him” or male in mixed company but when with lesbians are comfortable with “she” and “her”. This bothered me for one reason.. I see women as powerful and amazing and beautiful in many forms so to “hide” behind being male means feeding into the idea that female or woman is “less” and given a choice, we would pick male.. I still struggle with that.

BUT and this is a HUGE BUTT: I have some to understand that it is often way more complex that this idea. That gender to someone who is non binary likely means something and feels very different to them than it does to me. Soo , Yes, I think you can be a lesbian and be non binary. To me, the only reasons some one can’t be a lesbian is if they are a man OR not a woman who loves women. I think with gender being not as black and white as our culture would prefer, someone who is non binary is NOT discarding the “opposite sex” but embracing those parts of themselves that fall within a grey areas. I was taught that someone who uses him pronouns, maybe even takes testosterone or presents often or always as male is still very capable of relating to other women as a woman.

As an old fart lesbian, I will be honest and say that I do think the introduction of testosterone to a body that does not produce it or require it to be phyically healthy can change the dynamics or “chemistry” that person has with and towards other women. BUT I am just me and I am not the end of the conversation.I have not seen it all and I have understood only some of what I have experienced.

I am always going to be that person that tells others that their body is theirs and they must do the research, ask the questions and seek the answers as to what decisions they make about their own body. The onus never falls on another person, once adulthood is reached. So learn and listen... and encourage others to do so.. It is what I strive to do.

#nonbinary #lesbians #hope i don't sound like a babbling idiot

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aikainkauna · 6 years

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Fatigued? In pain all the time? The little-known illness that is far more common than we’ve previously thought, especially among geeks.

This is going to be a bit long, but it's so incredibly important, and so very much not just a personal issue that I hope you will read it (and hopefully, also share it). I'm choosing to speak about this now because this is an insanely unknown, disabling and yet seemingly a fairly common illness, and I want more people to know about it, especially as it affects geeks--geeky women in particular. I’ll talk about my own variant briefly at the beginning, but don’t stop reading there, thinking this is just a personal post--there are lists of symptoms and resources at the end that I urge you all to look at, because they are *frighteningly* common.

I and the doctors have finally found out I've got Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.

Which means there is one, or there are several, genetic mutations in my body messing up the build of my collagen, collagen being the glue that holds your body together and which is found practically in all your tissues. So, technically, anything that can go wrong with your body might do *exactly* that, because that b0rked collagen is everywhere. This is why I've always been not only hypermobile (being good at yoga and able to bite my toenails and tie myself into knots while sitting down), but easily fatigued and have had trouble simply sitting, let alone standing or walking, because my muscles have to strain like crazy all the time to compensate for my connective tissues being too wobbly. (Every time I've participated in guided meditation, the exhortation to "sit up with your back straight, your body as relaxed as possible" has always been absurd to me, because I can't hold myself upright if I don't tense my muscles. Try it: lightly tense all the muscles in your body for a bit, and see how long you can hold that, and you will know what staying upright is like for someone with EDS). It's been said that having it is like the body having to do strength training with weights all the time, except, unlike on a normal person, the muscles never get to rest and recuperate fully (except during sleep, and even then perhaps not completely; to make it even more fun, sleep disorders are a common manifestation in EDS). I sprain things all the time--I do my back in even in my sleep, and get trapped nerves/sciatica just from walking; winter clothes, let alone bags, are exhausting for me to carry even for short distances. For me, lifting a coffee cup, due to the laxity of my connective tissues, requires the same amount of muscular exertion as it requires for a healthy person to lift a full pint. Et cetera. Plus all the other weird ailments, which I'll get to in a bit.

But the main reason I'm telling you all this is that you really, really, *really* ought to read up on EDS. The whole world does. But especially if you, or someone you know, suffer(s) from chronic fatigue and muscular pain and are bendy--*because it looks like this is actually the illness behind many (not all, but many) fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome cases.* I repeat, *this is now assumed to be the most common cause of fibromyalgia and CFS.*

And then there's all the other EDS-induced stuff, all freakishly common among geeks. Here’s a list of some of the most typical symptoms:

-Bendy? "Double-jointed?" Good at yoga (even without practice)?

-Gut problems/IBS? Leaky gut?

-Serious fatigue, unrefreshing sleep, body feels like it's made of lead? And is it unexplained by other conditions (such as a dicky thyroid or anemia)?

-Sleep problems, anxiety/panic attacks/PTSD, autism spectrum, AD(H)D?

-Bad PMS and awful reactions to the Pill and other progesterone preparations, health crashes after pregnancies, dysmenorrhea with godawful cramps (like you're giving birth to a demon baby every month), endometriosis, fibroids, pelvic pain and other gynaecological issues?

-Allergies by the bucketful? Multiple chemical insensitivities?

-Weird heart thumpages, blood pressure issues, fainting when standing up?

-Early-onset problems with eyesight?

-Can't go numb from anaesthetic, and/or are hard to put under for surgery (this is great fun)?

-Feel pain more intensely than other people (developing needle-phobia from horrid experiences when having blood drawn or being put on an IV drip)? Are all dentist trips and having gynaecological exams (even sex and wanking at times!) a nightmare?

-Or, as a bonus, has the weird pain response made you kinky or just crazily responsive to acupressure/acupuncture? Or just caresses?

-Have you got weird and/or excessive scar tissue formation? Keloids from piercings? Have your wounds healed badly; after surgeries, have your stitches torn spontaneously?

-Got hernias, squashed-up internal organs, including a heavy/tilted uterus, breathing problems like your lungs are squashed (but asthma inhalers don't seem to help much)?

-Weird bruises, and you have no idea where they came from? Excessive bleeding (including bleeding buckets during periods)? Varicose veins at a young age?

-Flat feet? Funny little round, soft bumps (piezogenic papules) on your ankles? Need sturdy shoes with high tops and arch support? Find it difficult or impossible to walk in high heels, due to wobbly ankles and/or the muscular strain it puts on the whole body?

-Constant sprains, muscle pulls/tears, dislocations, subluxations (=partial dislocations; just something going 'crunch', like when the bones of your hand or your vertebrae seem all scrunched up together and you need to pull them open), trapped nerves, monster headaches? Growing pains? Pressure in the skull?

-Just. Hurt. Everywhere?

-Weird adverse reactions to medications that are way worse than ordinary side effects, completely intolerable and/or causing permanent damage, even life-threatening situations?

-Even queerness/gender-atypicality (I am not joking; it goes with the neuropsychiatric profile)?

Guess what, they're all related to this exact damn thing! And just how common are they in fandom, among geeks?! Right? Weirded out yet? And this is *far* from being an exhaustive list, because again, this is a multisystem disease which can technically affect pretty much all your body parts and their functions. But if you said "yes" to several, take a deep breath and keep reading. Or if not, hell, keep on reading anyway, because it's likely you know someone with this thing--it could be as common as 5%-10% of the whole human population.

Even if you are born with this rubbish, people go undiagnosed for decades (I only got diagnosed at 38, and I’ve been sick ever since childhood!) and since it mostly affects women (although guys *can* be affected), it's ignored and/or psychiatrisised by doctors. And since the female body is a chaotic body horror movie anyway, many have just thought it's normal to always have little sprains and crunches everywhere all the time, and that the fatigue just has a merely neurological basis. That it's just depression or a part of having been born with XX chromosomes. But it isn’t.

And another main reason that it goes undiagnosed is the persistent myth that EDS *always* has to involve extremely stretchy skin and extreme hypermobility, which is categorically *not* the case for everybody. Even the sodding Wikipedia article (misleadingly) only uses photos of *extreme* hypermobility and skin stretchiness, of the usual circus performer contortionism EDS has traditionally been associated with but which is NOT WHAT YOU NEED TO HAVE TO HAVE EDS, I repeat, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE A RUBBER PERSON TO HAVE EDS; you only have to be bendy and exhausted and ill. There are some people with it who are even *stiff.*

Thousands, hundreds of thousands of people remain undiagnosed even if EDS/hypermobility-related illness seriously messes up their daily lives--it can be debilitating. So, please, do yourself and your friends a favour and spread the word, and check out these links.

When to suspect EDS (blog discussion, also linking geekiness to this thing):

http://ohtwist.com/when-else-to-suspect-ehlers-danlos-syndrome

An overview on when to suspect, by a specialist (Dr. Bravo, PDF format):

http://ohtwist.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/DrBravoWhenToSuspect.pdf

Good brochure:

https://www.chronicpainpartners.com/brochure/

Another overview from the same site:

https://www.chronicpainpartners.com/what-is-eds/

Hypermobile EDS diagnostic criteria, with pictures showing how the bendiness level is scored (see how many you or your friend can do):

http://edsresearch.weebly.com/the-brighton-score-and-the-beighton-score.html

Good infosite:

https://www.edhs.info/understanding-eds-h

Pictures of a woman with typical hypermobile EDS, which is far more common than the actual contortionist stuff, and thus goes unnoticed:

https://mastcellblog.wordpress.com/journey/edsphotos/

A good overview of the problems hypermobility can cause by a specialist doctor who knows what up. This made me pretty much scream at the screen because I have one of those exact types of insanely painful mini-hernias that some doctors don't believe are there because they are almost impossible to see with normal imaging, but which my gyn saw during laparoscopy (PDF format):

https://www.dynainc.org/docs/hypermobility.pdf

Why hormones, progesterone in general (contraceptives, pregnancy, PMS) screw up the hypermobile body and may cause serious damage:

http://hypermobility.org/help-advice/hormones-hypermobility/

The official site of the biggest, worldwide EDS/hypermobility organisation:

https://www.ehlers-danlos.com/

UK support, including a toolkit for GPs on how to handle EDS:

https://www.ehlers-danlos.org/

Finnish EDS association:

https://www.ehlers-danlos.fi/

More info in Finnish, but this also has an embedded video clip (old but neat and short) from US telly (in English) to illustrate a family living with the disease:

https://eds-group.vuodatus.net/lue/2018/01/mista-voin-loytaa-tietoa-ehlers-danlosin-syndroomasta

(Hey, where have I seen eerie, elongated moves by a tall, bony guy before?! Yes, there are variants, like with the related illness, Marfan Syndrome, where people basically Look Like Cesare.)

And last but not least, the brilliant Dr. Sharon Meglathery's RCCX theory, which ties up all those illnesses I and others have noticed clustering around sensitive/artistic/neuroatypical/queer/geeky/triggered by everything folks, such as hypermobile EDS, fibromyalgia, endometriosis, allergies, IBS, sleep issues, stress hormone (adrenaline, cortisol) issues, CFS/ME, oh, you *know* the type when you read it. It's like a list of the usual Tumblr issues, for crying out loud--she might as well have called the PTSD-prone psychiatric profile that underlines these specific gene weirdnesses as "Triggered By Everything." Only it explains the links to the severe physical illnesses as well, and how and why they relate to stress hormone overload and why, thanks to problems with progesterone and cortisol metabolism, the physical illness stuff screws geeky women over more often than it does geeky men. And you owe it to yourself to read it.

https://www.rccxandillness.com/

I don't often say this, but reblog to save a life. These are geek illnesses, *our* illnesses. There are forms of this stuff that are lethal (causing stroke and heart attacks and organs going boom out of the blue at a young age), and the amount of suffering it can cause is ridiculous--I would have lived my life in a drastically different way, and would have never got so ill from the wrong medications and life choices, had I known I had EDS. (Just don't call me a "spoonie;" I'm not a fan of that thing--I'll explain later. Call yourself whatever you like; however, I'm still a ridiculous arctic chicken just as I've always been.) But there are still thousands of people out there who have all these symptoms and yet have never heard of this stuff, and for whom this knowledge can be life-changing, so *please,* spread the word.

Thank you.

#disability #ehlers danlos #ehlers danlos syndrome #chronic fatigue syndrome #fibromyalgia #autism #i really don't often make posts about my illnesses but the fact that this is so undiagnosed makes me MAD #and even if you don't normally reblog my rambles this is *important*#if a geek on my level--who's researched her illnesses and nutrition etc. like crazy #for the past twenty years for which I've had fatigue/hormonal issues might i add #only finds out this late... it's insane #and yes. yes. connie was hypermobile #it's a toss between marfan or vascular EDS in his case *hysterical disbelieving laughter*#i wish he'd leave me alone but nope...#i mean it about the potential lethality too #my mum's mum died at 29 from her aortic valve going boom and orphaned my mum as a toddler :(#and they couldn't treat it then (in the 50s) even if they knew she had a heart murmur #i have to wait 6-12 months to get to the genetic tests to see if i have that variant:/#but at least i'm going to have a heart ultrasound before xmas this year to check #still it's not fun to feel like a ticking time bomb #but please do read at least some of these/reblog bc this is common but 95% go undiagnosed

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