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thedomesticatednerd · 3 years

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Headaches, bad jokes, and cute siblings.

A little Tech whump for late Tech Tuesday. Also you get him and Omega being cute and telling bad jokes. Hunter is there too.

Warning: Light mentions of drug use.

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After three days and two missions for Cid, Hunter couldn’t take it anymore. He had been watching Tech and his brother was off, even though he’d assured Hunter he was fine. But Hunter knew something was wrong, his enhanced senses told him something was wrong. Tech was tense, his movements was stiff and short, he kept his eyes down, but the most telling was his scent.

Tech’s scent changed, he still smelled like himself only it was laced with neuropeptides, Tech was in pain. He decided that enough was enough.

They were in hyperspace when Hunter confronted Tech. His little brother looked worn thin, he had his goggles off and was rubbing his eyes when Hunter entered the cockpit.

“Tech, we need to talk,” Hunter watched Tech flinch. “You’re going to tell me the truth.”

Tech hummed an answer and fixed his goggles lazily. Hunter stepped closer to him and crouched down. “What’s wrong?” Hunter asked softly now.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” rested his head in his hands. “I have had a headache for three days.”

Hunter sighed. “You’re my brother, Tech, you’re not a burden. Have you taken anything?”

Tech looked at Hunter, the look said do you think I’m an idiot?

“Right,” Hunter smirked but frowned. “When was the last time you slept?”

Tech shook his head slowly. “I do not wish to answer that question.”

Hunter stood up. “Let’s go.”

Tech didn’t argue with him, either because he knew it was futile or he was just that worn out by his headache. Hunter led him to the ship’s berthing and pulled back the blanket on Tech’s rack. Tech began fumbling with his armor to get it off, seeing his little brother struggling with such a simple task, Hunter immediately began to help him and took over. Once his armor was off Hunter pushed him down to his rack and pulled the blanket over Tech’s shoulders once the younger clone laid down.

Hunter pulled Tech’s goggles off and put them under his pillow. He sat next to Tech and started threading his fingers through his baby brother’s light brown hair. Tech sighed and closed his eyes, probably remembering times when Hunter use to comfort him after a particularly bad simulation or nightmare of his eye surgery.

Hunter waited until Tech was asleep before moving. He stood up and turned towards the gunnar’s nest after feeling eyes watching him ever since he sat down next to Tech. Omega was peeking around the curtain, he gave her a smile and she started climbing down.

When she got to Hunter Tech jerked, they both stilled, after a couple of seconds Tech let out what sounded like a mournful moan. Omega looked up at Hunter with wide worried eyes.

“He’s ok,” Hunter whispered as jerked his head towards the cockpit. He closed the door behind them and she took a seat in the pilot’s chair. “He’s does that when he’s exhausted.” Hunter told her as he sat down.

“So he’s alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, he has a headache and he hasn’t slept in a while, but he’s alright,” Hunter smiled but it was half hearted. “He probably won’t sleep long. He went through a lot when he was young, it left him with a lot of anxiety.” Hunter wasn’t sure how much he should say, he didn’t want to burden his little sister.

She nodded, as if she understood clearly what Tech went through. After a few minutes she yawned.

“You should go back to bed,” Hunter told her.

Omega slid off the seat. “Ok,” she didn’t protest as usual, instead she left the cockpit, closing the door behind her.

After an hour, Hunter went to check on Tech. His youngest brother would be waking and he was going to try to get him to go back to sleep. He exited the cockpit and made his way down to the berthing. To Hunter’s surprise, Tech was not alone in his rack.

Omega lay on her back sound asleep. And Tech, his gentle nerdy little brother had his head next to her’s with his arms wrapped around her. Hunter could hear Tech’s slow rhythmic heart beat, indicating he was asleep.

It warmed something in Hunter’s chest seeing them sleeping so soundly together. Whether Tech unconsciously held Omega or he knowingly did it, it was an unexpected find since Tech struggled with emotions and rarely let anyone see him express any emotions at all. Hunter had suspected it had something to do with Tech’s personalized training.

There were many nights he sat with a young Tech that just stared off into an invisible distance, though Hunter could sense his distress. As Tech got older he became more and more emotionally distant. Though Hunter knew his baby brother loved them, he could thank his enhanced senses for that.

Hunter smiled down at them and pulled the blanket up a little higher around them. Tech sleeping for more than an hour or two at a time was a precious oddity. He wouldn’t dare disturb them, so he left them and went back to the cockpit to watch the stars stream by.

…..

Omega slipped through the door from the cockpit after Hunter suggested she go back to bed. She tiptoed pass Tech and climbed up to her makeshift room. Even though she was tired she couldn’t sleep. When she heard a frustrated sigh she concluded she wasn’t the only one.

Climbing down she made her way to Tech’s rack. He turned his head towards her and squinted his eyes, she almost wondered why he was making that face but realized he didn’t have his goggles on.

“Omega, are you alright?” He whispered.

She nodded. “I’m ok, I just can’t sleep.”

He frowned and blinked, she knew he was thinking but the he spoke slowly. “Do you wish to share my rack?”

She nodded. Tech scooted over as far as he could and lay on his side, and Omega climbed up and slipped under the cover. Tech was stiff beside her and it gave her an idea.

“Want to hear a joke?” She whispered.

“Ok,” he looked a bit intrigued.

“Why can’t you trust atoms?” Omega smiled, and Tech stayed silent. “Because they make up everything.” She grinned.

Tech snorted in amusement. “I have one.” He whispered.

She rolled over to face him.

“What do you call…” he paused, trying not to smile. “What do you call a teacher that won’t fart in class?”

Omega was smiling at him and shook her head and he finished. “A private tooter.”

They were both trying to stifle their laugher when Echo barked at them. “Quiet down you two!”

They composed themselves. “I didn’t know you knew any jokes.” Omega whispered.

“I have data files full of bad jokes,” Tech whispered back.

After a few minutes she spoke up again. “Does your head still hurt?”

He sighed. “Yes, however it is not as bad.”

“You should try to back to sleep,” Omega laid her right hand on his cheek gently, his skin was warm under her hand and it slightly worried her. He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it, his face was tilted down so he was breathing on her face.

“Only if you do,” he whispered.

She smiled and rolled over on her back again and closed her eyes. After a few moments he shifted his arm under the pillow and wrapped his other one around her and pulled her close against him. She let out a surprised quiet giggle as she was pulled closer.

She listened to his breathing change as he fell asleep, and she could feel his heart beating against her shoulder. With the hum of the ship and Tech holding her she found it hard to keep her eyes open.

Soon she was drifting off to sleep beside her big sweet brother.

…..

He wondered how long he’d been asleep. Probably not long. He was never asleep for long.

If it wasn’t because they were in a situation that didn’t allow for long periods of rest then it was his anxiety that kept him from sleeping long periods at a time. Most of the time he’d just get up and find something to tinker with but right now his head was trying to burst open. He was surprised he could put together a coherent sentence when Omega appeared at his rack. He felt intrigued when she asked if he wanted to hear a joke, and even though his head hurt he recited a joke from his files.

Laughing definitely didn’t help his head, but it was worth it to hear her giggle and he felt strangely more at ease. He suddenly realized how much she meant to him and how he really didn’t mind her sharing his rack with him. The emotion wasn’t new, he’d felt this emotion towards his brothers, it was love. He loved her, he loved his little sister. He was glad they went back for her, she belonged with them.

For once he wasn’t the youngest member of the team anymore, he had someone that looked up to him now. It was a heavy realization, but one he didn’t mind.

After they fell quiet he found it becoming increasingly hard to stay awake and he also had an overwhelming need to keep her safe, even if they were on the Marauder. So he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Holding his little sister was doing something to his brain, his thoughts slowed down and a tightness in his chest, that he didn’t even realize was there, uncoiled and he felt lighter.

He’d only experienced this kind of release when he experimented with recreational drugs, he’d had a lot of explaining to do when Hunter found him, his experiment ended that day. Hunter had been worried about him for a long time after that, even after Tech reassured him multiple times he wasn’t trying to use drugs as a coping mechanism, he really was just curious and recording his findings.

But this was better than any kind of drug, recreational or prescribed. This alone was chasing away his headache. Who knew cuddling with his little sister would make him feel better and sleepy all at the same time.

Maybe he’d get more than a few minutes of sleep next to her.

He had a feeling he would.

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(A/N: in the scene when Tech is asleep and he jerks and moans was actually a dream I had in Tech’s POV, in my dream Hunter reassured Omega just like he did in the scene. My body did a full out jerk and I rolled over and moaned, but I was still asleep(?) Also, the experience Tech is having with Omega when he feels sleepy and protective is actually the feeling I get with my daughter when she sleeps with me. Also laying with The Nerd Operator instantly puts me to sleep when we’re cuddling on the couch.)

#Tech Tuesday #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb omega #Echo is grumpy that his younger siblings woke him up #tech whump #headaces bad jokes and cute siblings #Tech never gets enough sleep #don't do drugs kids

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fumikomiyasaki · 2 years

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⏮ for Rubina Out of Flynns view

Funfact, part of Gregs backstory is connected to Rubinas about something that I probably gonna explain in a HSA post. Anyways lets start.

Greg waved happily at his buddy Flynn.

"Look what i bought."

"A stone?"

"The buyer said this way you can look into a persons memory, this is the way to get back on that white wing making a fool of us."

"I don't think its good to pry into other peoples buisness, especially given Miss Wildgoose already dislikes me."

"But her unique magic does the same, why shouldn't we do the same."

Greg activated the stone as he saw Rubina walk bye.

Everything fading to black as Flynn and Greg now saw a young Rubina in a white dress before them... playing with a black haired girl with red eyes and black wings on her ears who looked basicly like her.

"Saphirra, wait for me." Rubina called after her, however some people outside the fence watching them play looked in disgusted.

"Look at that child of darkness. She doesn't even know what a burden she and her kind is to the world."

"Child of Darkness? I was called that once." Flynn said.

Greg stayed silent given he knew this term to well.

Everything around them changed as they saw Rubina and Saphirra play at night. Saphirra trained some dark magic while Rubina trained fencing. However it seems a bird was struck by the dark magic and died....

"I didn't want this." Saphirra cried out while Rubina tried to comfort her.

The scenery changed as Rubina and Saphirra were visited by a doctor, Greg called out. "Its him...."

Flynn looked at him." You know him?"

"I do, he was the reason why... "

"SAPHIRRA DON'T GO!" Rubina bursted out into tears as the men of the doctor seperated her. Greg looked away.

"The same happened to me.... they get you and you come back with this crystal... branded as a child of darkness, but free of the disgusted eyes and stripped of your power... and feel like a new person."

As they followed the scene Rubina and her parents walked back with her parents telling her that her sister will be fine.

At night she went to the spot where they were training. Hoping to see her sister again.... however the surgery wasn't as sucessfull as Saphirra came out weak, with her gem in her chest.

"Ruby.... please... help me...."

"Saph, what happened?"

As Rubina asked this Saphirra bagan to choke her.

"This i-isnt me... My powers.... should have been gone... I don't want this gem.... I don't want this brand... I AM NOT A CHILD OF DARKNESS!"

She lets Rubina go, her gem lighting up the courtyard in a red.

Rubina tried to grab the gemstone, feeling it was the source of Saphirras pain, however... the gem lost all its color... and even more the energy went into Rubinas body. shortly turning her own hair tips black.

"Would this... have happened to me too if something went wrong?"

Greg was calling out, feeling hurt and betrayed. Sure in the end his surgery went fine and he had less burdens after but seeing other children of darkness like him suffer like this.... he despised the person who did this to him even more.

"Don't worry sis.... I maybe not be able to save you... but if you ever want to go wild... you can use my body... I will give you refuge..."

Flynn as always kept his usual cold poker face but he knew too well what would happen. The Reason Rubina till today had this other side that was bloodthirsty for battle.... its basicly her sister speaking through her... or at least what was left of her sister.

The last scene they got to was about Rubina asking her parents the next day what happened.

"My dear Daughter, who is Saphirra? You were always our only daughter."

Rubinas face was in shock... everyone she asked forgot about her sister... with her being the only one left to know.

Befor Flynn tried to call out for her. They were back to reality.

With the real Rubina looking at them confused.

"Are you two alright? Or do you two plan something idiotic again."

Greg looked down with a slight look of Pity, while Flynn tried to overplay it.

"Its nothing my dear Ruby, today you have a free day where we will not bother you. After all you deserve a break."

"Really." She looked sceptical.

"Greg and I are gonna visit our dear friend Leroy, so were off."

He dragged him out.

"We will not share anything we saw there... but lets not be to harsh to her... This is why I said this was not a good idea. "

"Got it Flynn... I probably should throw away this stone."

"Good idea."

#twistedwonderlandoc #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland ocs #twistedwonderland #Rubina von loketon

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betterthebest · 3 years

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Here We Go Again | An MJF fanfiction

Not requested. Bella was a teen wrestler working in the Indy circuit until an injury cost her her short career. She and MJF were friends turned lovers, turned strangers and friends again. What happens when she joins AEW to lead a faction with her ex? Will their history jeopardize their rekindled friendship?

This is an alternate universe where MJF didn’t earn a spot in the inner circle. This first part is a flashback, the second will be present time. Hope you all enjoy my original story!

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Part 1: A flashback

Spring 2015 After three years of friendship Max and I became a couple. I wasn’t sure about him at first, our friendship was pretty strong. On our 4th date he asked where this was going. My mind was made up when he visited me in the hospital after I got sick. He was the only one to come see me and spend time with me even though I looked like crap and hadn’t been able to shower in a day. This is when I felt it was true. He really cared.

We established a relationship. And for a year and five months, we were going strong. On our six month anniversary we had a match against each other at one of the promotions we worked. That was the night I told him I loved him. After our match we went back to the hotel. I was supposed to stay with a female wrestler friend of mine, but I lied to my parents. They know Max and like him, but if my dad found out we shared a hotel room, I’d be in major trouble. We laid in bed, my head resting on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. We were silent, enjoying each other’s company. He ran his fingertips up and down my arm softly. We haven’t been intimate, only kissing. I wanted to wait for the right time and he never pushed it. I think he was waiting for me to initiate. He’s usually bold and brash, but with me, he can be soft and sweet. I looked up at him and smiled. “Max?” “Yes,” he smiled back. “I think I might... L you.” I couldn’t say the word. I was too nervous that he wouldn’t feel the same. Is it too early? Will he think I’m crazy? “Well, I L you too. I mean love.” He smirked. I let out a small giggle. Max placed two fingers under my chin and brought me closer. “Say it,” he said softly. He brushed his lips against mine. “I love you Max.” With each syllable my lips touched his. “I love you too,” he kissed me. As the kiss grew more passionate we entangled our bodies together. That night was our first time together. We both had a little experience, but that made this even better. There were a couple of awkward moments, but it was a perfect night.

2016 came and we were stronger than ever. We travelled to shows together and spent most of our time with each other. We never got tired of each other. In March we started doing tag team matches at one promotion out of the three or four we were a part of. For the next three months, we worked as a tag. Our last tag match was the day before our 1 year anniversary. We won the match and celebrated that night in New York City. He took me to an amazing restaurant and then went back to his family home in Long Island. We spent the night together since his parents and sisters were out of town for the weekend. That day was one of my favorite days spent with Max. That was a day I would cherish for a very long time. A memory that in August, would seem like a lifetime ago.

August 2nd 2016 was the worst day of my life. The day everything changed. I got badly injured to my neck that almost paralyzed me. That night Max was the main event. When he saw how I wasn’t even moving in the ring, he ran out and kneeled by my side. “Medic, Medic. NOW!” He called out. “Baby, are you okay? Please be okay. Move your leg, please.” I couldn’t speak, the shock settled in. Shooting pain rain up my spine. I moved my leg slightly, but that sent another shooting pain up my body. The medics came into the ring and carefully strapped me onto a stretcher. Max abandoned his match to go with me to the hospital. “Get back here Friedman.” I heard the promoter shouting. “I don’t care Frank, I’m going with her. You saw what the fuck happened.” His words spit absolute venom. “Please be okay” I heard his voice shaking and then my vision went blank. On the ride to the hospital I went in and out of consciousness. I could see Max on the side by the paramedic with his hands in his hair. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. We finally arrived at the hospital. I don’t even know how long it took. I was taken in to the emergency room. Max stood by my side. The EMT told him to go out into the waiting room and call my family. First he grabbed my hand softly, “everything will be okay.” I still couldn’t speak in fear that I would hurt myself more. I got tests done and had to get emergency surgery. I wasn’t sure if it was the same night, or the next day that my surgery was finished. I woke up when it was light outside. My parents and Max were in the room talking. My eyes fluttered open slowly. “Bella!” Max smiled. My mom came over to me and grabbed my hand. “How are you feeling?” She sounded like she was about to cry. “I’m okay.” I looked down to see my neck brace. I moved my legs and this time there was no pain. I tried to move my head, but it was uncomfortable. The neck brace limited me obviously. After a few minutes of talking to my mom a doctor came in the room. “Bella, hello. I’m your surgeon Dr. Marley. How are you?” I answered the same as I did for my mom. I wasn’t feeling okay, but I wasn’t feeling terrible either. “Now it will take a couple months of recovery. You only have to wear the neck brace for six weeks, so until the second week of September. You need physical therapy three times a week for the next six weeks as well. I will advise you to take a walk through the hallways once I leave...” He talked more. I listened, but I didn’t really hear what he was saying. That was until he said four words that broke me down. “You shouldn’t wrestle again.” I couldn’t help but cry. “No no no no no no” I said softly. Max grabbed my hand and squeezed a little. “It’s going to be okay.” He ran his thumb across my knuckle. That did nothing to comfort me, I was too distraught. My dream is ruined and I’m only 18. The doctor and my parents went into the hall to talk. “Didn’t you hear Maxwell, I’m done for?” It wasn’t going to be okay. “Babe” was all he could say. “This is just not fair Max.” I cried again. I don’t remember anything except crying all day. For a week I was in the hospital. Many wrestling friends came to visit. After each one I cried, reminding me of what I’m losing. I tried for the next month to go to Max’s local shows. This time he travelled more often as he gained some popularity. The first week of October Max came back from a different state after being away that last week. It was a nice day in New York so we decided to meet up at a park near where I live. It’s been a couple weeks since I got my neck brace off. I had to wear some other device a few times a day. It kept my neck in alignment and gave me regular massages to my neck and shoulder. We sat on the park bench for a while in silence. Max was the first one to speak. “How are you?” I shrugged, “I guess I’m okay.” He grabbed my hand, “how are you, really?” That caught me off guard. He knew exactly when I had a lot on my mind. My brown eyes looked into his. “I’m miserable Max. Nothing is going right. I don’t get to see my boyfriend anymore, I feel numb. Wrestling has been my life. Since I was 9 I dreamed of it. I was always told that I was too fragile and too soft. Now Max... I’m lost. I feel fragile and soft. I can’t believe this is happening to me.” I wanted it so badly to be a dream. Maybe I would wake up on the day of a show and be able to perform. Max took a deep breath as if he was the one doing the rambling. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at his face. He had sadness in his eyes, he looked defeated. “I don’t want to hold you back.” “What? Bella, you’re not...” “Oh come on Max, I’m a mess. You don’t deserve a burden of a girlfriend.” “You’re not a burden, I love you.” “I love you too Max, but being around wrestling makes me feel like shit. I can’t even talk to my friends. Britt called the other day and I declined the call. And she’s been my close friend for a year.” “What about me? Where does that leave me?” He asked firmly. “I want to be with you, but it hurts so bad.” I cried. Tears spilled like a waterfall, my vision was blurry. “I-I want you to be happy.” I had to take a break. “And I promise you won’t be happy with me around.” “You’re being selfish now.” He stood up. “Maybe so, but I need to look out for me.” “Let me take care of you Bella. I’m happy with you.” “I don’t even feel like myself. Everything has changed.” I rubbed my neck, feeling the scar in the back. “I love you Max and that’s why I have to let you go.” He stood there staring at me. “If that’s what you want. You need to heal, just know I’m always here for you.” He leaned in and kissed me for the last time. We made the kiss last a minute, knowing it won’t happen again. It hurt, everything hurt. This was the correct decision, right?

For the next few years I lived a normal life. I had a decent job and a close family. I never met anyone close to Max. Meaningless hookups just went on to fill an empty void. I wasn’t sure if it was a wrestling void or one because of Max. We didn’t talk originally for two months after our breakup. I didn’t talk to any of my wrestling friends for more months after that. The only person I talked to was Britt Baker and it wasn’t often at all. It wasn’t until 4 years later that I could watch wrestling again. The what ifs played in my head. It took a while and through therapy, I got over that. It was a year since AEW was established that I started watching. I saw many familiar faces and had to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t able to join them. I had to accept my new life, one that I didn’t plan.

#mjf #mjf fanfic #maxwell jacob friedman #aew #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #like #reply #comment #here we go again #wrestlingfanfiction

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sweet-xoxo-thatcares · 3 years

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Went to bed at 12:40am after helping grandma get readjusted in the bed, and helping dad function the oxygen tank because the oxygen machine kept going out and beeping on error. I think grandma got anxious from seeing her family members come from grand rapids to visit. I know she missed them.

But man did I get tired.

I had to set an alarm for 3:45am because that's when grandma has to go potty, and I knew mom and dad needed the rest after cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, and hosting for her guests.

I kept nodding off to twilight as I waited in the room for grandma to tell me when, so I could help her get up off the bed and onto potty. That wasn't until like 5am.

Glad I could get some sleep in between waiting.

I stayed in there with till 8:30, when she asked for some oatmeal to eat. I think she's having hunger pains, but can't really eat the stuff down as much. We puree mostly everything in the food processor for her. She only ate like a couple spoonfuls. She said her right side started hurting from not eating as much, but we can't make her eat, but there also seems to be a lack of appetite in grandma's mind. I think she's been feeling very tired too, especially after the family visit last night.

This is the first time I heard her fuss today. I cleaned the bucket after she threw up in it and said "Don't use so much Lysol to clean with. I can smell it." I didn't take it personally because I didn't use lysol to clean the bucket, I used Fabuloso and alcohol because we didn't have much cleaner in the bathroom I cleaned it in. Daddy reminded her that I was just trying to clean the bucket out.

She said "I know, just don't use so much."

This was right before she said she feels like she needs some more oxygen, so maybe her not breathing as well and smelling that cleaner made her nose upset.

I've dealt with Grandma and her complaints before, so I'm pretty sure I'm not expecting a happy camper about all this. Im just so glad its not just me to take care of her. So we'll all be making a team effort to help her as she goes along. The social worker, the nurse, and a chaplin is supposed to come from Hospice in the next couple of days. So we'll see how it goes. Its not like the disney movies where the person is happy and being nice to everybody and then suddenly passes.

I think this will be a gradual, slow, but hopefully peaceful passing for her. I know I'm stressed out, but I feel like how I used to be at work. Hopefully we don't get into any arguments and just let her talk if she starts commenting on us not doing something right or if she starts forgetting stuff and then she says that one liner "you calling me a liar?" cause I know what that means when she says that line.

I pray she doesn't go flip mode and the kids don't have to deal with seeing any blood. I'd rather have me and my parents handle that, because we can handle that maturely without feeling that grossed out feeling and wait to hold our comments until after the tasks are finished.

My baby sister, I would be worried to find out she or one of the others were to find her.....like that in the morning.

Because we don't know the timeline and we're not at a hospital. This is real life. Grandma actually came all the way here with my parents to Flint, to come live with us until she passed. And its still just shocking to me. We're putting in our best effort together so this woman we've known for years can have a peaceful going, under the roof and care of her loved ones. We love her and we do care about her. I'm just not gonna expect this to be easy, keep my head up, stay positive, and try to keep my emotions out of it like I do at work. Keeping my emotions off, helps the day seem fast and the work gets done quicker and more efficiently. We're gonna work hard for Grandma and I hope my little sisters can cooperate and not be as selfish and sometimes unhelpful like usual. We have to share our time more and that means less sleep, but I'm glad we're not alone.

I'm glad its not just me, stuck at her house in Grand Rapids again like it was the 1st time and 2nd time I had to help her out at the house.

The 2nd time was the worse, because she was sick, assuming it was maybe covid or a virus, the flu or something else like a cold because of the mucus. And she hadn't been to the hospital in years. The insurance company sent a doctor to check up on her in March and when he just touched that one oldddd surgery spot that she had been talking about for years....it was near the liver and the pancreas. And thats where they said the cancer was, this whole entire time.

I wonder how or when did it start growing? And how long had she known she was gonna die? Even when I stayed with her this year she would say "Just in case something happens to me" or "I'm rotting away." and the pads she would wear in her underwear because she said something kept leaking every so often and she been stopped getting periods because they took her uterus out decades ago.

It's like crazy and mind bottling, because I wanna know why, when, where, and how. I want answers. I want somebody to be able to tell me this is what caused it and am I at risk for something similar either just naturally or just from getting surgeries from doctors who didn't listen to her or tell her what was truly going on...its like nobody knew, but her and God. And she felt everything in her body. Everything. She knew which types of food would hurt her stomach or not, which natural vitamins to help with her pain every so often. I can't even deny that this entire time she's been telling me these stories, moments, and memories all over and over again for one reason and one reason only. So not only she could remember, but also for us to know why she's been feeling in pain for so many years.

She's been duct taping her body like a car for so many years with vitamins for this and hard lemonades to help her get through each day, but she never not once wanted to go to the doctors, the people that she didn't trust for years and held a grudge over it, she knew exactly what injuries and everything that led up to her feeling the stings in her feet, her big toe, her back, her stomach, her side, her lungs, and her chest. She had everything covered like a math equation.

And she's very frugal, did not want no expensive medical bills cause she already felt like a burden to us, even when she came into the house and she saw how much storage stuff we had to clear out of that blue room, she told Daddy she didn't wanna be a burden.

But we gotta take care of you Grandma. Cause we love you and your son, your daughter in law, and your grand babies are gonna help carry you on your way. I don't care if you want ice cream in the middle of the night, I will go get it. I know momma and daddy don't want me to overwork myself, but why do I feel that thing where the mother can't stay away from its child? I don't wanna miss her going, and not have said goodbye and I love you. Thats it, just final words.

Cause that's how you do closure, I wanna know were you in peace when it happened and could I have done anything to help you feel better towards the end. Cause I know what it feels like to not have closure from somebody, I had to do it all by myself and I still feel ungrateful and absent about it. Because nobody talked to me, they just left me hanging.

And I'd be damn if I missed my Grandma before she passed. Her birthday is August 22nd. I know its unlikely to ask for, but can I see her on Christmas? At least? After everything we've went through, her chewing my food up for me when I was little. All the stories she remembered about me eating peaches, chicken, and spaghetti. And how she cooked it with corn flakes so it had the crispiest crunch. And how much I used to ask her to replay Barney when dad would drop me, she said I'd say "Again, Again!" and whoever was there said something about it...

Why do I feel like because we've been so busy helping and working, now is not the time to mourn?

She's still here, but I can still hear her singing our jazzy bathtub song.

"Singing in the bath tubbb,

A doobee-doobee doo

Singing in the bath tubbb

A doobee-doobee doo"

I still remember the note and everything and me giggling and smiling, laughing and singing with her.

Grandma used to sing and listen to music all the time. She showed me a few more songs before we got into it about the hamster.

Honestly, I'm not even mad about all that anymore, I just want her feeling at home and happy with us.

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xhaotixaesthetica · 4 years

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Direwolf!Chan (Hyrbid AU!Chan)

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator

Author's Note: Finally got around to writing some of the personal stuff I wanted to write for this blog! I don’t have any requests as of my wrtiting this on Dec. 2, 2019 so feel free to request right now! Also note that I obviously don’t know anything about Chan’s siblings or his family so I had to make a lot of stuff up for the headcanon, this doesn’t reflect their actual personalities cause idk them. ALSO PLEASE TAKE NOTE: these are so long that I’m going to make a separate headcanon for all of the members that’s about dating hybrid SKZ, so we’re not going over that right now, this is just about them as general hybrids. It’s gonna be a big polyship thing tho cause other wise i’d have like 9 different versions of the reader)

Trigger Warning: mentions of death, depression, self-hatred, insomnia, and themes of mental illness

Genre: fluff, with bits of angst

Word-Count: 3.3K+

You are in: the Amalgam Star System��

YES HYBRID AU!CHAN

Lezzgetit

Chan is pretty rare in a multitude of ways

for one he’s a wolf hybrid

wolf hybrids are very rare and hard to get right

the pups usually come out with lots of birth defects and rarely make it past two weeks

and not only is he a wolf, he’s a DIREWOLF

Direwolves are like the superhuman monster version of wolves, the same in looks but generally 3X the size with incredible strength and speed

They are also considered feral, dangerous, savage beasts

In all countries except 6, it is illegal to breed direwolves. Direwolves and Direwolf shifters are to be killed on sight or brought to the government for testing/genital neutralization surgery.

Because of these restrictions, any direwolf or direwolf shifter you find is likely to be a wildling

That’s what Chan is

Chan was born deep in the woods to a human father and a direwolf mother. Both cared for and doted on their son extensively. Whenever food was low, they gave it to Chan. Whenever it was cold, they’d cuddle up to their son to protect him from the elements

Then they gave had a daughter named Hannah and a son named Lucas.

Their parents were surprised to see that Chan, instead of having the normal jealousy an only child gets when they have to share their attention with new siblings, actually grew quite protective over his brother and sister

That was when they knew Chan was an alpha. Being an alpha direwolf means that if Chan were to ever get caught by the government, he would not receive a quick death or be allowed to live as human — after an invasive neutering.

No, he would be kept in captivity all his life in a government facility, subjected to torturous experiments.

They knew that protecting their children was more important then than ever.

From a young age, Chan’s mother taught Chan to hunt. While Chan’s father taught them survival skills like recognizing poisonous plants, starting fires, tracking, trapping, cleaning wounds, and properly cooking things, their mother taught them how to fight, how to use weapons, how to shift and fight in their wolf form, and how to fight as a group to maximize protection.

Their family lived in hiding but they were all happy.

Each of the kids had different talents. Chan was extremely good at hunting animals, defending the house, and protecting his family, as well as cooking anything anyone brought home. Surprisingly, he was also pretty good at taming animals, in his human form at least.

Hannah was adept at identifying poisonous things, gathering roots and berries, and setting traps. Lucas was good at medicine, growing things, starting fires.

So the kids made the household pretty damn efficient.

Fast forward to when Chan’s thirteen and that’s when things take a turn for the worse

Chan saw footprints in the earth, footprints that were obviously from a large person with a heavy stride and big hunting boots.

The whole family was on high alert for a week. The knew a hunter had probably spotted them and ratted them out.

Chan, Hannah, and their mother could have ran, they could shift into their wolf forms and survive on rabbits and other things.

But his father was a human and Lucas hadn’t really learned how to control his shift yet. They wouldn’t survive that kind of life in hiding and if they left them at the house, they’d be killed for harboring direwolf shifters.

So, as they expected, the government showed up at their house days later.

It was...bad

Chan’s dad went down and his mom told him to take his siblings and run, leave his parents behind so he could protect Lucas and Hannah.

And reluctantly, he did just that

They didn’t last long

Chan tried his best, he really did, but Hannah and Lucas didn’t really stand a chance

They were younger than him, their wolf forms less developed, Hannah didn’t have the stamina he did and Lucas barely had a wolf form at all

Chan barely escaped with his life

He was....distraught to say the least

He felt that it was all his fault, he was supposed to protect their family and now they were all dead and he was still alive

Alpha shifters are known to be the defenders, which was why his family counted on him so much for that. He felt that he failed as an Alpha, as a son, and as an older brother and he’d never forgive himself for that

Now cut to you

Your parents were hybrids rights activists

They acquired Woojin when he was a baby from a circus after his mother died from maltreatments from the circus

They fostered Woojin for a bit before he was adopted by your mother’s friend

Then, later on, they had you

You and Woojin grew up side by side as best friends

And when you were thirteen, a year after Chan’s family was slaughtered, Woojin burst into your parent's house looking frantic and terrified and carrying Chan on his back

Chan was in pretty bad shape, dark circles under his eyes, underfed, giant claw marks and bruises on him

Your parents were pretty distraught, they couldn’t think of who could have done this to a person, much less a kid that young.

You all cleaned his wounds and took care of him.

Woojin looked extremely apprehensive the entire time

When you all finished with Chan, Woojin grabbed your mother’s arm and said, “Don’t tell anyone about him. No one can know. And never be in a room alone with him.”

And before anyone could ask questions, he left

Woojin didn’t ever get too close to Chan, never visited him when he was unconscious, and got very upset whenever you or your parents went in a room alone with him to take care of him

But he still wouldn’t say what was making him so apprehensive of Chan

“It’s not my business to tell.”

But you didn’t pay Woojin any attention skjsksj

You grew very attached to Chan

It took two weeks of intensive care from you and your family for him to wake up

During those two weeks, you all obviously didn’t know Chan’s name, and you called him Angel Boy because you thought he was very pretty

You’d always make sure his IV drip was proper, check on him all the time, sit with him, and read him stories and talk to him and shit

Chan won’t admit it until years later, but your voice really helped him during that time, sometimes he can still remember it

That year he spent alone and on the run, terrified, paranoid, wallowing in loneliness, depression, self-hatred, and survivor’s guilt really took its toll on him so to hear someone being so kind and caring for him helped him wake up a lot quicker

Even though Chan was exposed to lots of love and happiness in his childhood, it only took that one day for him to realize that the world hates him for what he is and the few humans he met in that year by himself only served to reinforce that

He didn’t think anyone would ever care about him again :(

When Chan wakes up, Woojin absolutely refuses to even go down the hallway he’s in

You and your family are ecstatic but a bit worried because Chan doesn’t really do anything once he wakes up

He doesn’t ask who you are or why he’s there, doesn’t ask if you’re going to hurt him, he really seems like he doesn’t care

You thought that that would make Woojin ease up on him, but if anything that seemed to make him distrust Chan more

Direwolves had even more enhanced senses than other hybrids so it wasn’t hard for Chan to hear you and Woojin’s frequent arguments about him

Woojin kept saying that Chan was dangerous, he wouldn’t say why, but he seemed to be fairly certain that Chan would eviscerate you and your family in your sleep or something

You argued that you’d been alone with Chan plenty of times and he’d never shown a tendency toward violence for anything, much less people

Chan didn’t want to be a burden and he certainly didn’t want to cause a rift between you and your best friend

So one night he tried to leave your house

He didn’t really have a plan, he was in an unfamiliar place and the last thing he wanted was to be caught by the government

But you’d been so nice to him and he really liked you and he was terrified to ruin your life the way he thinks he ruined his family’s

He was so emotionally upheaved that night that even though he had amazing senses, he didn’t hear you get out of bed

You were going in the kitchen for a midnight snack when you saw him about to go out of the front door

You ran up behind him and hugged him around the middle before you knew what you were doing

Chan froze, surprised to say the least

“Please don’t go. You don’t have anywhere to go and I don’t want you to get hurt. Please stay.”

Stay

You wanted him to stay

The next thing you knew Chan burst into tears

He cried for a loooongg time

You both just sat on the sofa with him sobbing in your arms and holding you like you would disappear

Chan got better after that

He still didn’t talk, but he got out of bed now. He did chores around the house and helped with your homework

yes his father actually taught him school things lmao

i go to school boi

your parents were amazed at the change in him

Chan didn’t really smile that much or have a lot of facial expressions at all

And if you ever passed by his room at night, you’d probably hear him crying

Plus sleep didn’t come easily at all to him, his case of insomnia was quite severe

But baby steps

Even though Chan didn’t walk, you and your family certainly talked to him

You always included him in the conversation and you could tell he was listening

Woojin still didn’t want to be around Chan

Chan would stay out of whatever room Woojin was in. He knew that Woojin was aware of what he was and that he was terrified of him, so he gave him space

Whenever Chan would stray too close to Woojin, he would freeze and stop talking, the hair on the back of his neck raised, and he wouldn’t relax until Chan got farther away from him

You had no clue why he was acting like this

Woojin was a grizzly bear hybrid, damn near an apex predator, and he acted like a mouse whenever he saw Chan

A year passed, you’re now 14 and Chan’s 15, and one night, Chan was sitting in the kitchen unable to sleep

That night, sleep happened to be eluding you as well so you decided to join him

That night was the first time you ever heard Chan talk

And it was about his family

He told you every single thing he ever knew about his parents and his siblings. About the way they were raised and how funny Hannah was and how much he liked looking at the stars with his mom

When your parents came down for work, Chan was still talking

They didn’t go to work that day and you didn’t go to school

You all sat with Chan and listen to him talk about his life

He didn’t mention anything about what he was, that was a bit too much for him

And he didn’t mention anything about what happened to his family, but judging from how much he loved them and the fact that they weren’t with him now, you all knew something terrible happened to them

That conversation was exactly what Chan needed

It felt so good to talk about his family, to tell someone about them

And even though that didn’t take away his survivor’s guilt at all, he felt a lot better

And he was talking now, he didn’t cry as much, and he slept more :)

He was slowly, very slowly, going through some kind of recovery

Chan is very thankful to you and your family for saving him

And even to Woojin, because even though he thinks Woojin hates him, he knows that Woojin was the one who saved him and brought him there in the first place

Because of this Chan grew quite overprotective of all of you

He always cooked, made you healthy but still somehow delicious food, helped where he could with your homework, did chores, made you and your parents packed lunches with cute notes in them, even throwing extra snacks in yours and telling you to give it to Woojin who would always blush when you gave them to him

Even though he’d been so cold at the beginning, he was so loving and thoughtful, and sweet that even Woojin was finding it hard to be scared around him anymore

He still didn’t let Chan too close and he was still observably wary of him, but they could at least be in the same room and carry a conversation now

wow, we stan character development

Chan eventually enrolls in school with you and Woojin

Your parents are some chaotic good, law-breaking ass activists, and managed to secure some fake records and papers and stuff for Chan

You, looking at the very convincing documents: “Uh, how did you guys get this?”

One of your parents says, “Email” while the other simultaneously says, “Triangle” and then they both start glaring at each other

The other kids at school are kind of scared of Chan at first tbh

In multiple videos of SKZ, some of the members say other trainees were scared of him and he didn’t talk to people and I find that so hard to believe but yet at the same time.....i can totally see it

He has an expressionless face and just stalks around the halls in his all-black but at the same time he’s intimidatingly gorgeous, not to mention he glares at anyone that he thinks is mistreating you and Woojin and he’s serious af about his schoolwork

But he’s also really sweet and kind and helps people with homework, helps people talk to their crushes, and beats up bullies

He becomes pretty popular very quickly

He joins the swim team and is a fucking beast, bringing home medal after medal

He gets high grades in AP classes and tutors a bunch of people and all the teacher’s love him and he’d kind of surprised because wow he’s happy and life is going good

Woojin is already pretty popular cause he’s hot af and has blessed the school choir with his godly voice

And you’re best friends with him and now also best friends with the hot new swim team captain and everyone’s like WHAT IS THEIR SECRET

You have a shit ton of girls constantly coming @ u asking how to confess to Woojin and you’re like??? as if i have a fucking clue cause i like them too bitch tf

But THATS FOR ANOTHER HEADCANON (these are so long that I’m going to make a separate headcanon for all of the members that’s about dating hybrid SKZ, so we’re not going over that right now, this is just about them as general hybrids)

Another year goes past, you’re 15 and Chan’s 16 and Woojin is pretty comfy with Chan by this point

This is also when you and Woojin are just now learning of Chan’s birthday

“WHAT THE HELL CHRIS? WHY DIDN’T YOU FUCKING SAY SOMETHING?!”

“I don’t know, I guess I just forgot.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FORGOT, WHAT THE F U C K!”

Unfortunately, his bday has already passed but you, Woojin, your parents, and Chan’s parents all decide to throw him a bday party anyway

So Chan gets home after swim practice one day, and he’s v pouty and salty about the fact that you and Woojin didn’t wait for him to walk him home

But then he walks in and sees all the party decorations and food and cake and you’re all standing there smiling at him, all so loving and caring that he can’t stop himself

“I’m a direwolf hybrid”

For a few seconds, Chan doesn’t even process what he’s said

It’s silent immediately

You and Woojin’s parents have their jaws dropped and you’re confused as hell

Woojin just looks really really sad

And Chan doesn’t know what do to

He loves all of you, you’re like his family. He already lost one, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to take losing another one

He doesn’t want you to be afraid of him, doesn’t want you to turn him in, or kick him out

But he doesn’t want to leave you either

He knows that your parents and Woojin’s are hybrid rights activists and instilled those values into you and Woojin but he feels that that’s different

Chan doesn’t have a cute little tail or ears on his head. And, unlike most hybrids, he can full-on change into the animal he’s mixed with. He’s more like a werewolf, an ancient monster, than a hybrid like Woojin

And Chan doesn’t know what else to do so he runs

He sprints out of the door at a speed that you’ve never seen before

And even though you’d previously thought direwolves and their subsequent hybrids were just a fairy tale monster to scare kids, you instantly believe him

You also don’t give two single shits

Because you love Chan, you care about him and he’s your best friend. You know how good of a person he is and yeah, you’ve heard about how dangerous direwolves are but you trust Chan and you know he would never hurt you

You all go out and look for him but you know it’s pretty much a lost cause. The city is big and Chan was raised to be able to hide and survive if you wanted, you guys don’t have a chance of finding him if he doesn’t want you to

You just have to trust that he’ll come back

You guys don’t see a trace of Chan for two days

During this time, Woojin reveals that this was something he knew from the moment he saved Chan. He could smell it in his scent, very similar to a wolf hybrid’s but with a trace of something else a lot more powerful. It was the reason he was so terrified and mistrusting of him

He feels really guilty about how he treated Chan at first, feeling like it was his fault that Chan was convinced you’d all hate him now

Because he knows Chan’s aware that he knew and he thinks he’s the one that scared him so much about revealing that

Even though you’re, admittedly, a little miffed at him, you understand and you can see how much he’s beating himself about it now

You both especially start freaking out when you connect the dots and realize that that's what must have happened to Chan’s family. They were hunted and he blames himself

When Chan finally comes back, he’s surprised to get tackled in hugs, you’re all crying and talking about how worried you were about him and how you thought you’d never see him again

And he sees that you all still love him and this doesn’t really change anything

Chan didn’t think he missed his wolf form that much until you all take a trip out to the woods one day and he can finally shift again

he’s entirely too massive to be going into his wolf form in the house

and you and Woojin are just amused as shit watching this absolutely massive apex predator frolicking around in the grass, chasing you all and nipping at your heels, laying around with his tongue hanging out of his mouth

And you two are like wow we would really die for this thing

But it’s ok cause Chan would die for yall too

The Amalgam Star System

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator

#amalgam #hybrid au #kpop #fluff #smut #stray kids #chan #stray kids fluff #stray kids hybrid au #stray kids headcanons #kpop fluff #chan fluff #chan smut

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 4 years

Text

Shattered Reflections {4}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Synopsis:

Prince Hans is a mirror at heart, but wishes to shatter his reflections and correct his past mistakes. He returns to Arendelle, willingly surrendering himself to Queen Elsa’s judgement. Uncovering truths, unforeseen circumstances and a bit of je ne sais quoi, bring the Ice Queen and the Mirror Prince together in a way neither of them would have imagined.

A/N:

(( This is a collaborative RP Fic written by lovely fellow Helsa shipper FOW and myself. We RP for fun and just wanted wanted to share this story with fellow shippers, especially all my lovely shipper buddies over in the Helsa Discord Server. Long live the Province of Helsa! Thank you, Beta Reader Friends, your help is much appreciated. Hope you enjoy~ ))

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3. Bear Your Burdens

Chapter 4. Siren's Song

It was a new day and Elsa was back to daily queenly duties. The sister session with Anna had calmed her nerves a bit, yet he was still on her mind. It was hard to focus on her paperwork. She had received no update on his condition yet, she assumed that meant he had remained stable, at least she hoped. She sighed, she knew she wouldn't get much work done with this eating away at her mind.

She got up from behind her desk, and began to pace, like she usually did when she pondered. Elsa sighed deeply and walked out of her study. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, but there was no stopping now, she was past the point of no return. When she arrived at the hall at the opposite end of the castle, she saw the guards stationed at the door, her heart skipped a beat, but she pressed forward. She walked up to the door and stopped.

The guards glanced at each-other and shrugged. They knocked to herald Elsa's arrival, and opened the door for her. It was unlocked, but it seemed they didn't see that as a concern.

Hans was, surprisingly, sitting up. He had straightened up a bit on her arrival, but opted out of a shirt. His torso was mostly covered in bandages, it seemed to do well enough, but it also showed that he was no idle prince. His arms and torso had plenty of muscle. He was growing a bit of stubble as well- no-one had given him anything he could have shaved with.

Usually he would have greeted her, but at the moment he seemed uncertain how he felt. He didn't seem as positive toward her, but didn't seem to dislike her, either. It was not his forced neutrality, just a general uncertainty.

"No letters today, I'm afraid. I've been a bit preoccupied." He remarked. He still clearly wasn't up to full form (else he probably would have put on a shirt), but he seemed to be conscious and aware enough. He seemed different without the layers of shirt and coat, a bit more of a rugged Navy man than the prince who stood tall. And, beneath the bandages, he was still wearing treasoner's striped hide.

Seeing him shirtless had caught her off guard, even if he was mostly covered in bandages, she tried to avert her gaze, but eyes kept darting back to examine him.

Letters? She had completely forgotten about those.

She let out a hum. "Oh, I didn't come for a letter..." she paused, maybe she was starting to regret coming to visit him.

Hans looked away as well. "Come to ask questions?" He proposed, less than content with the idea. "Or just to make sure I don't lie about being fine again? I'm afraid I have no intention to change that, but the doctor is checking on me regularly, so I can't be hiding anything." Perhaps his annoyance wasn't with her, but was more of a self-loathing. He certainly seemed to have enough of it.

Why was she there? She really had no business being there, but to pry. She felt genuine concern about him, after witnessing his afflictions, yet he wasn't aware of her presence during his surgery due to being unconscious. He would surely view her concern for him as pity.

"I'm sorry," she apologized impulsively. " I shouldn't have come."

She had come to check on his well-being, and he seemed to be better than the day before, even if he was in bad spirits, but she couldn't blame him for that. Her mission had been completed, she could move on with her day, it was best for her just to turn around and walk away.

"No-" Hans impulsively reached out a bit, then realized the gesture was strange. That, or he just felt his back twinge and bandages catch and had to stop. He pulled back as quickly as he started. "My apologies, I'm a bit surly this morning, I'm afraid. It's not in my nature, usually. Please, do ask your questions. I'll enjoy the friendly company." Even if he didn't seem happy, it was more pleasant to see the Queen than to be lost in his thoughts. He briefly looked up at the ceiling, as if looking for something, but he didn't look for longer than a glance. There was nothing there but the decorated and relatively flat bedroom ceiling one might expect of a palace.

Elsa hesitantly stood in place for a moment. She followed his gaze up to the ceiling.

"Are you sure? I would not like intrude if you would just wish to rest and recover," she said as she already started to bridge the gap between her and bedside. She paused and asked a question that would have been strange not given the circumstances. "...Would you like some ice?"

Hans thought about it a moment. "...Sure. Some ice would numb the pain." He would never show his pain, but at least he admitted he had it. "Hot packs and cold packs, one or the other always, it seems. Please, do stay. I enjoy your company, even if I don't always show it." It was almost intimidating, when she was close to him. He knew she wouldn't hurt him intentionally, but it didn't stop him from holding his breath when her hands were close to him, or when her gaze met his and asked questions she never said.

The heat emanating from him was no longer searing like it had been last night, yet it was still fairly warm, she wondered if he still had a mild fever or if he was inherently that warm. She was cautious as she focused her powers to create a light layer of frost over the bandages on his back.

"Better?" she asked as she finished, bringing her hands down to her sides.

Hans couldn't help but tense when she touched his bandages. Not in fear, per se, but perhaps in anticipation. He could almost feel the way the frost crept in shards and fractals over the bandaging.

"Yes, thank you." He nodded, not sure how he felt when she pulled her hands back. He was struck -not for the first time- by her beauty and grace, and the kindness in her words and deeds, tone and poise. "I hope I didn't ramble too deliriously yesterday. I didn't realize I was in such a poor state until I was too tired to do anything about it." And he definitely didn't remember it. He vaguely recalled writing his note and feeling unfocused, then definitely not being able to properly focus on the people in front of him, and laying down. He wouldn't never lay down in front of company unless they were going to, as well. He must have been doing poorly.

Elsa gave as soft smile at his thanks. She shook her head at his comment about deliriously rambling. And then she stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to continue.

Elsa was not a conversationalist, that was definitely Anna's prowess not hers.

Hans waited a long moment, and seemed as engaged in the silence as he was in conversation. Waiting for her to speak, pondering over the time it took, and the expressions she gave. Hans was an analyst, someone who watched others and gauged them. He had to be, if he was to mirror them.

"Would it be easier if I put on a personality? Told another story? I believe it was the sirens, last time, right? I liked that story. Before Arendelle, I tried to believe we had made it up. Now I know that we didn't." He considered telling her she had a few similarities to them, but he couldn't imagine she would take that well, no matter how he meant it.

" I believe," she muttered under her breath as she remembered the words she had written on the note she had planned to give him. "The sirens yes," she said drifting out of her daze. "I enjoyed reading your tale ...and the song, even though I'm not familiar with the tune, so I couldn't quite place the notes." she stated. "My heart is pierced by cupid," she said mindlessly remembering the lyrics.

Hans smiled a bit, almost sheepishly. "I... played the harp, in the Isles. All my brothers learned an instrument, mine was the harp. I could play a bit, if we had one. My voice isn't as nice as a siren's, but I know the words." He seemed embarrassed of the feminine instrument, but he was proud of the skill it took to learn it.

"The harp is a beautiful instrument,"she smiled. " We might be in luck, 'cause I'm pretty sure there's a small harp in the music room, though it's probably best not to strain you playing the harp now, but I do wish to hear you play it someday," she said delightedly. "I think your voice would be fair enough, if you don't mind indulging me, could you please share the tune? I would love to learn it." She was so eager to hear the song, that it didn't cross her mind that it was strange or awkward to ask him to sing to her.

Hans seemed uncertain. He was going to ask that he play it instead, but he remembered the way his back twinged when he reached out to her before. "That may be for the best." He admitted, reluctantly. He felt it supremely awkward to sing for anyone else, but she asked, so he would acquiesce. Besides, he recalled singing back to the sirens, even though there were others around. Why did it bother him now then?

"It's not an uncommon song to hear on land, in the right places." He assured, And at least this song was mostly voice, and didn't need music to be beautiful. So he started at the beginning of the song.

Upon one summer's morning

I carefully did stray

Down by the Walls of Wapping

Where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a young lass

Who seem'd to be in pain

Saying, William, when you go

I fear you'll ne'er return again

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

There were more verses, and he seemed to know them all. None of them were like the one he retorted with, however. That had been Hans' own creation, it seemed. The song was soft; unsettling, but affectionate. The song of someone who wouldn't be seeing their love again, whether they knew it or not.

Elsa picked up the melody right away and began softly humming it herself, to try to memorize the tune.

Hans had a lovelier voice than he was willing to admit, Elsa found his voice quite soothing, even with the slightly somber words.

"That was quite beautiful, Thank you for your indulgence," as she continued to hum.

Hans shrugged. "As her Majesty commands." He assured sweetly. She had asked, so he provided. He wouldn't have been truly bidden to her crown, as a prince- but as he had said, he was a prince 'in name only'. Perhaps, as her prisoner, he truly was. Both in practice and in theory.

It remained silent between the two, except for Elsa's hum. Elsa didn't mind silence, it was quite comforting to her, but thought maybe it had been dwelling on too long. Her hum stopped as she tried to rekindle a conversation. " Would you like to share another story? I would be happy to listen, though I might have asked too much of you with my last request and you would rather rest," she offered. Elsa seemed to forget she had other duties to attend to, though she could get to them later. In a strange way she was quite enjoying his company, and did not want to dismiss herself, as if he had been just another one of her obligations.

He thought a bit about it. "What sort of story would you like? I have stories of fighting pirates on the open sea, stories of the mischief I used to get up to as a boy, it just depends on the sort of story you would like to hear. I certainly enjoy talking when I'm away from the Isles, as long as the room doesn't echo." What a strange stipulation.

Both options he offered were quite interesting. She really was curious to know more about his childhood, yet she knew talk of the Isles seemed to inflict pain, and she really didn't want to cause him any more discomfort right now. So decided to opt out for the pirates, since she also knew how much he loved talking about the sea. "A story about pirates sounds compelling. Did you really cross them yourself?"

Hans smiled a bit. "That was my job, protecting the merchant vessels through the area on my ship. I was acting admiral and captain of the Conch Cat. It's a term for a cat with extra toes, they're supposed to be lucky, and as the thirteenth, I needed all the luck I could get. We had a cat on board, 'Big Red'. We called him 'His Highness' because he had the same fur color as me, and we'd direct people to the cat any time they asked for the prince." Hans grinned a little at the thought. He tried to lean back, then stopped and sat forward again. He didn't express pain, but it was pretty clear he had felt it.

"So, one day, we were stuck in a fog. You can't move in a fog, generally, because if it's too thick, you can't see where you're going and might run aground, or worse. So we had the sails away, anchor down, and were just waiting for it to clear. That day, we had a young man named Fletcher up in the Crow's nest. Fletcher's a good lad, and the best set of eyes you could have aboard a ship. Next thing I knew, he was at my elbow saying 'Pirates off the port bow'. I wasn't about to doubt him and his eyes, he had never led me astray before, but I had always fancied playing games with pirates." Hans grinned a little bit.

"I have respect for pirates, truthfully. They treat their crews well, generally, they would sometimes have female captains or pirates among them, they never cared about one's color or creed, only what one could earn. They even had healthcare and took care of their own. I can respect that. So anyway, I told my crew to get their weapons and hide. We were midway through a long journey, we had some empty containers in cargo. So men took their weapons and fled in all corners, looking for places to hide. Even the cat seemed to hide under a bed in wait."

"But of course, as the Captain, I needed to have a primary role in defeating the pirates and bringing them in, and I had every intention to. So I went to the stairwell down into the hold, where most of my crew was hiding away, and I climbed it. Hands on one wall, feet on another, I climbed up above the door, like I've done to escape my brothers before. I even put myself in a nonchalant sitting position with my sword in-lap, and just waited there. Now in truth, that's rather difficult to do for a long period of time, but it was worth it. I held until the pirate captain passed right under me with his crew before. 'Hello, Gentlemen', I said, then dropped down like a cat from a shelf. My crew popped out from hidden compartments and beer barrels and under tables and stairs, and they were quite held fast. There were a few scuffles in getting everyone tied and handled into the brig, but the only one who did any real damage was a female pirate cursing our crew, her crew, and every Navy man under the sun. I admired her spirit, the boatswain not so much, when she near cut a chunk out of his arm, but we stopped her. Made for a nice story back at port."

Hans grinned at the whole story, thinking back fondly to the Navy. The same Navy that nearly killed him. It was strange how he could smile about it.

His grin was contagious. Elsa couldn't stop herself from smiling along as he told the story. It was way more than just his grin though, it was how he told the story with so much passion it was hard not to smile. Reading his letters were nothing compared to hearing them straight from the source. The way he told the story was so lively and immersive Elsa almost felt she was there herself.

She picked up part about his brothers that seemed out of place in the talk about pirates. In fact it almost felt like he had more admiration for the Pirates than his Brothers.

It saddened her that he would no longer be able to do something he spoke of with such fondness.

" His Highness, huh? I don't think I've ever seen a cat with red fur, that would definitely be a sight to see."

"He was a bit, beautiful longhair. The problem with that was, he also liked me, and would lay on my shoulder all the time, so I constantly looked like I was losing my hair from all the fur he left on my uniform." Hans laughed, gesturing around his neck, though the gesture was a little stiff as pain halted him again.

"He'd purr in my ear all the time, a most calming creature. Cats are lucky on boats, and necessary to keep mice out of the stores, and he was a big fluffy sweetheart. Probably still on the boat, he's old but he's not that old." Hans liked cats. It didn't come up often, but he did. Cats and horses.

"Speaking of animals, how is my horse? Sitron has always been good, I was happy to hear you would be kind to him."

The question caught her off guard. She hasn't thought much about his Horse since his arrival. She had sent the horse to royal stables where he would be treated well like she promised, at least she hoped that was the case, she really had to check in on the Sitron now that he mentioned it.

"Sitron, is in the royal stables, he should be properly provided for," Elsa said. "You really care for your horse don't you? It was a bit strange that you brought him along with you."

Hans nodded. "He's been mine since I was a young man. Horses and swords, the Isles are pretty traditional. The only thing I could talk to without feeling like I would be teased or chastised later for what I said- as long as I rode far enough from home, first. I never wanted to be near home anyway, so it worked out nicely for me. I brought him for companionship on the boat."

The Isles seemed like a very traditional nation. There was nothing wrong with traditions, yet the way Hans spoke about his own homeland sounded less like a case of excessive discipline, and more like vigorous cruelty. Elsa didn't know how to respond.

Perhaps Hans caught the look on her face.

"It's not the way it sounds. The crown is kind. My father, and the eldest brother are good men. Great men, in fact. If they adhered to the grim law as well as they say they do, four of us would have been hanged. Two as common thieves in Corona, one is in trouble with the church and is a thief, and me. A treasoner. None of us have been. Brothers are just personally violent toward each-other naturally, I'm led to believe. Though as princes with perhaps too much leeway, it got out of hand on a regular basis." To say the least.

"I do like some of my brothers. It's the seven or so in the middle I can't stand." Slightly over half, as if that helped.

"I can't imagine having so many siblings. I only had one and-" Elsa trialed off for a second. "...that was hard enough."

Hans tilted his head curiously. "Was?" It was strange, Elsa spoke in the past-tense.

"Good god, did something happen to her?" He sounded genuinely concerned for a moment. Ironic, for someone who tried to kill them both.

"Wait, what? No, Anna is fine!" she burst in fluster. Her tone softened. "...I was just think of our childhood, and how I couldn't be with her...even if I wanted to..."

Hans nodded thoughtfully. "Every family has its idiosyncrasies, I suppose. But your relationship with your sister is beautiful and warm. I have that with a few brothers, it can be... lifesaving." He seemed lost in his own thoughts as well.

"Will you continue to visit? Or am I just lucky because I don't have paper to write?" He smiled a little toward her, something of respect in his look. He must have respected her, he continued to tell the truth, or at least to claim to. He wasn't keeping his false neutrality, but he didn't seem to be putting on an act in particular. If he was, he didn't seem to notice.

"Kicking me out already?" she tried to tease. "Hmm... I have to admit listening to your stories was more enjoyable than reading them, makes me reconsider giving you pen and paper... Regardless, I would probably come visit to provide more Ice if you still desire it." She returned a soft smile.

He smiled a little. "I can't, I'm in your home." He pointed out, jokingly. "Surprised the guards stand on the outside. Maybe they realized I never try the doors, though they don't seem to be locked." Hans knew he could open the doors. Then what? Run? He had no desire to, and wasn't certain he could get far even if he weren't injured.

"I'm happy to tell stories any time you ask. Or just talk about whatever. I came here to give truths, not more lies. Whatever you should ask. And, I wouldn't say no to more ice." There was a bit of a smile there that suggested he might have asked even if he didn't need the ice. It would easily have been an excuse for her to visit, though in this case, he actually did need it. "Someday I'll play the harp for you, if you like." He had not forgotten that idea. 'Someday'. A someday he almost seemed to be looking forward to.

Elsa glanced towards the door, when Hans mentioned it, he was always very observant.

His stories she would be eagerly awaiting to hear. Truths on the other hand she was still unsure of, especially ones that had been brought up in the Throne Room, they had been weighing on her mind & would require more deliberation (but she could dwell upon those later).

Elsa had really enjoyed keeping him company. She realized that this was the first time since he returned to Arendelle that she really felt at ease in his presence.

Hans really shouldn't have pledged he'd do whatever she'd ask, cause she could be likely to take him up on his offer, and to his dismay, she might make him sing for her again or worse.

The Ice had truly been more of an excuse to return, but was glad it was purposeful as well.

" I would really like to hear you play, someday," she smiled. There was a brief pause of silence. " I really should take my leave, I do have paperwork still waiting for my attention, and it's very possible that Anna as well."

Hans nodded, hesitantly. "Does she... know that I'm here?" He sounded like he almost didn't want to know the answer. "At least in the dungeons I was fairly certain she wouldn't visit. I'd sooner go through this again than hear what she thinks of me now." He gestured to the wounds on his back. "Though it is a very slim margin." He would sooner endure pain that could kill him than endure one upset woman telling him how horrible he was- but most particularly, the one he had been engaged to.

The question made her tense up. Elsa pursed her lips, something about Hans inquiring about Anna made her uncomfortable. She dismissed it as her over-protectiveness, that was strongest when it involved him.

Anna might not have known that he was here in this room, but she was well aware of his presence. Elsa had informed her sister right away about the Prince's new residence in the dungeon, she did not want to keep that a secret from her. Of course, Anna had been upset with the news, and had wished to visit him just to assault his face with her fist yet again, but Elsa had forbade and fortunately Anna had complied with her wishes.

" She... she is well aware of your return to Arendelle," she answered softly.

Elsa had feared the two crossing paths again, for she knew her sister would give him more than just a piece of her mind. There was a reason Elsa was wary of mentioning Hans as the reason behind her distressed state last night.

She was afraid of telling Anna about her visits with Hans and what she might think them, that's exactly why she hasn't been open to sharing details with her.

There was a higher chance of them having a confrontation now, with Hans now residing within the castle walls, and that scared Elsa. Especially since Elsa was well aware of her sister's curious nature, the risk of her stumbling upon this room was high.

Hans nodded thoughtfully.

"It's okay, I can withstand what's deserved. I did attempt treason, after all. Whatever my reasons, treasons are treasons." He laughed a little, dryly, at his wordplay. "Perhaps she'll take pity if I'm still dressed in bandages." That was a joke, though it was almost certainly true.

Anna was bound to find out sooner or later, but Elsa didn't think she wasn't ready to tell her just yet, mostly because she didn't know how. The clash between Anna and Hans was inevitable, it might be better to let it run its course sooner rather than later. Elsa just felt she ill-prepared to deal encounter and its aftermath.

Elsa let out a slight huff and flashed a grim smile.

" I should go now, " she said softly as shifted awkwardly in place.

Hans closed his eyes briefly, and nodded.

"Until next time, your Majesty. I shall look forward to your next visit." His tone was positive, but it seemed that Hans was still thinking of something grimmer. As she began to leave, he moved to lay down again on his bed. The doctor would be along shortly to change his bandages, anyway.

"Until Next Time," she said heading towards the door. As her hand reached the doorknob she peers back to look at him. She can sense a shift in his mood. "... I can ask the guards to bring you some books, if you like, to occupy your mind." She offers.

He thought about it a bit.

"Your favorites, perhaps? I'm curious what you would choose." He suggested fondly, without telling her his. Of course, as an adventurer, his preference was for adventure novels. But he wanted to know her better. He told her, much, it was her turn to share her interests.

" All right, I'll see what I can find," she said turning the door knob. "I'll keep them a surprise until they arrive." Elsa flashed a playful smile.

Hans nodded, amused by her attempts at suspense, and settled himself on his arms like a great cat again.

Elsa exited the room, gently closing the door behind her. The guards acknowledged her as was customary, but didn't say a word. They were the same two guards as before (they still had not had their rotation), They had known how much time Elsa had spent in there with the Prince. The realization made her cheeks lightly flush in fluster, but it just a twinge of short lived embarrassment. She'd done what she set out to do, which was check-in on Hans, yes, she might have lost track of time, but that was okay for she had enjoyed his company, for once.

She continued on her way back to her study, reminding herself to stop by the library on her way to pick up some books, as promised. Unconsciously, Elsa began humming the tune the Prince had reluctantly sang to her.

#Helsa #IceBurns #Hans x Elsa #Frozen #Frozen FanFiction #Shattered Reflections

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anubislover · 4 years

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A Heart to Be Used as Needed (a dark Corazon!LawxBaby 5 fic)

“Joker killed another one, huh?”

Sniffling and tearfully nodding her head, Baby 5 skulked into Trafalgar Law’s lab, the young Corazon’s afternoon coffee carefully balanced on a silver tray. “The bastard didn’t even give me enough time to set a wedding date.” The Buki Buki no Mi user was a mess; mascara blended with tears down her cheeks, her eyes were red and puffy, jet black hair tangled, and there were thin rips throughout her maid uniform. She’d clearly just come from another failed attempt at killing Doflamingo, her rage at once more being denied her dream of marital bliss no match for the shichibukai and his Ito Ito no Mi powers.

Law scoffed as he continued to dissect the man on his table. His victim was barely conscious, chest cavity wide open, any resistance he might make suppressed by restraints, a cocktail of opioids, and the fact that his limbs were in a bin on the other side of the operatory. Doflamingo had caught the guy snooping around the castle, so he’d been generously donated to the lab for the Surgeon of Death’s amusement. He’d started off using his powers, but after a while decided to practice more traditional surgery—minus the anesthesia, of course. The result was a rather bloody operating table, organs lined up in little trays encased in their own Rooms to keep his subject alive as long as possible.

Holding the man’s liver up to the light, Law tsked at the cirrhosis that had formed. “You know, they say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

Grimacing at her superior’s handywork, the maid replied haughtily, “I’m pretty sure it’s also finding pleasure in playing around with a man’s organs while he watches.”

“No, that’s sadism. Completely different.” Turning around, he pulled off the bloody latex gloves and surgical mask, switching them with the coffee mug, warm viscera dripping onto the polished silver. Despite being red with tears, Baby 5’s eyes rolled heavenwards in annoyance; with his abilities, he could have easily thrown those in the trash, but he always left it to her to clean up instead. Frowning at the red stains on his dress shirt and white lab coat, she knew she’d also be spending a good hour on his laundry. Oh, well. At least it made her feel useful.

Taking a sip of the bitter beverage as he leaned against the operating table, Law quickly scanned her for injuries. Apart from a few bruises and some thin cuts, she seemed relatively unharmed, but it was still worse than Joker’s usual retaliation. Either he’d been in a bad mood, or Baby 5 had really gone all out this time. “Need me to bandage those up?” the surgeon asked, indicating the long, thin slash at her waist.

She waved of his concern as she dumped the contaminated gloves into the trash. “Oh, don’t trouble yourself; I’ll take care of them later.”

It was an expected response; heaven forbid the maid allow anyone to do something for her. Half the time he had to drug her just to fix her up after a mission, as she’d insist on not being a burden even while bleeding out. So, knowing it was a lost cause, he pointed to the sink. “Then at least wash your face; I don’t need you dripping snot and makeup all over my nice, clean lab.” It wasn’t clean, and Baby 5 would inevitably be the one to mop up the blood later, but she was smart enough not to comment.

As she dutifully bent over the sink, scrubbing away tears and reapplying her lipstick, Law diverted his gaze from her injuries to instead appreciate the way her short dress and high heels made her legs look impossibly long. He couldn’t help it; as a doctor, he enjoyed studying anatomy, and as an admitted hedonist, he loved a sexy pair of legs on anyone. The way she leaned over, arching her back and presenting her pert ass, filled his head with impure thoughts of burying his stiff cock inside her, fucking her hard and slow while she made helpless little sounds of pleasure.

Joker really was a sadist, parading a beautiful, biddable woman around in such a tempting outfit, then basically forbidding anyone from touching her. It was easier on everyone else, as most saw her as a sister or niece if they regarded her at all, but as Law’d never bought into the family crap, he lacked that barrier. Instead, his main reason for not going after the sexy little maid boiled down to the knowledge that if he did, she’d cling to him for life, and Doflamingo would be pissed.

Even the best fuck in the world wasn’t worth upending his ultimate plans.

Downing half the mug of coffee in one go to quell his urges, he said, “Not that I approve of any of the worthless peons you’re stupid enough to fall for, but if you want to get married so badly, quit telling Joker and just elope. Why ask permission when you know you’ll never get it?” Despite his harsh words, he was vaguely impressed—foolish as it was, he’d give her props for persistence. Her intense desire to get married was almost comparable to his drive to bring the Heavenly Demon’s world crashing down around him before finally crushing his heart in his bare hands.

The fact was, despite being Corazon, Law had spent the past decade plotting to destroy Joker and his sick criminal empire. It was hardly for altruistic reasons; he’d set the whole world on fire so long as Doflamingo burned with it. All that mattered was avenging Cora-san, and there was no line he wouldn’t cross. A man in his position couldn’t afford to have scruples; his job generally revolved around torture, unethical experimentation, helping enforce Joker’s rule, keeping his twisted subordinates alive and in line, and more. How could he ever hope to take down the former Celestial Dragon if he wasn’t willing to do the same for his plans?

Besides his lack of limits, Law’s greatest strength was his patience. Much as he wanted to simply rip out his still-beating heart, Doflamingo was too strong to fight directly. At least, too strong for the Surgeon of Death. At first, Law’d planned on simply earning his trust and killing him on the operating table under the guise of performing the Perennial Youth Surgery, but after seeing how monstrously powerful and resilient he was, the young doctor had been forced to figure out a new plan. Then, two years ago, he’d had an epiphany; to take out a Warlord, you needed an Emperor, and he was in the perfect position to sabotage Joker and Kaido’s partnership. He would break one of the gears that kept the New World running, then sit back and relish the beautiful storm he’d ushered in.

It wouldn’t be easy, and at the moment, his greatest challenge was gathering the right allies to help him enact his brilliant scheme. Violet used her powers and sexual relationship with Joker to keep him informed of their boss’ plans and divert any suspicions of betrayal. Law had amassed a small but devoted crew eager to follow him into Hell. Last year, he’d secretly saved the Straw Hat boy at Marineford, healing and handing him over to Silvers Rayleigh to train with the intention of calling in the life debt once he and his crew were strong enough for the New World. The young upstart’s brand of chaos would be useful for destroying Joker’s SMILE factory and invoking Kaido’s wrath.

Slowly Trafalgar D. Water Law moved the pieces into place, playing a quiet game of chess with the unwitting shichibukai while acting as his sadistic but loyal Corazon.

Perhaps it was that devotion to subtlety and meticulous planning that made him so annoyed at Baby 5’s foolishness. “Seriously, you do this every time; flounce into his office crowing about how you’re getting married, and the next day the guy’s entire town has been razed to the ground.”

“But I want the Young Master’s approval!” she declared. She simply could not understand why everyone was so against her getting married. Ever since she was a child, she’d longed to belong somewhere, to be useful and needed by someone. To be a man’s wife meant that there was someone who truly valued her, who saw how useful she was and was happy to let her tend to his every need. To be useful was to be needed, to be needed was to be loved, and a loved person would never be abandoned in the mountains, determined a burden, or forgotten.

Once more presentable, her cheeks flushed as she basked in a romantic fantasy, imagining her hypothetical wedding day. “I know he’s just being protective and doing what he feels is best, but he’s never even met my boyfriends! Once he sees how truly in love we are, he’ll walk me down the aisle and give me away to my beloved—”

“That’s just it—he doesn’t want to give you away,” the Dark Doctor interrupted sourly, running a tattooed hand through his messy hair in irritation. Really, how was he the only one who saw through their boss’ illusion of “family” for the brainwashed cult that it was? Was it because he’d witnessed first-hand what he’d done to his own brother? The volatile maid was one of the few he cut any slack; he’d spent the past twelve years watching Doflamingo cultivate her psychological need to be needed into something fanatical and horribly unhealthy, whereas the rest were just plain cruel, stupid, or greedy. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t gleefully tear into her I delusion like a pinned-down frog, though. “You’re most useful when you’re solely devoted to him. If you marry outside the Family, your loyalties will be divided.”

“No, they won’t,” she argued, clasping her hands over her heart, eyes sparkling dramatically under the cold, florescent lights. “I’ll always be loyal to the Family!”

“But what if your husband wants you to choose between us and him?” Law pressed, setting down his mug. Normally, he didn’t bother trying to reason with her, but he was feeling particularly sadistic at the moment. Such utter devotion to that monster disgusted him, and something urged him to pick at the fresh scab over the maid’s damaged psyche and watch it bleed as she was forced to face painful reality. “Your taste in men is generally atrocious, so who’s to say you wouldn’t end up falling for the enemy? Let’s say your husband needs you to shoot Joker, but Doflamingo needs you to kill your husband. Who would you obey?”

“I—I would…” she trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor and hands wringing her apron as her mind struggled. Cheeks flushed red with strain, white teeth bit into her plump, cherry red lip, and sweat started to form across her brow. The butt of her cigarette fell to the floor, slowly burning out on the white linoleum. Law didn’t need to check her pulse to know her heart was racing, and her bountiful chest heaved as panicked adrenaline raced through her veins. It was like a computer attempting to process a paradox, slowly frying its own circuits trying to figure out the unsolvable answer.

A wide, cold smirk stretched his lips, gold eyes greedily taking in her mental anguish. Really, it was quite an attractive look on her. Control freak that he was, he got a special, sick thrill from the knowledge that he could play with her emotions so easily, his words as precise and sharp as his scalpel. “Exactly. That’s why he’ll always kill your pitiful fiancés. He doesn’t trust you to make good decisions on your own, so he guards you like a dragon would a princess, incinerating any would-be knights in shining armor trying to rescue you.”

“But I don’t need to be rescued,” she insisted weakly.

“Well, that’s good, because none of those idiots cared about you enough to want to rescue you. They wanted to take advantage of your weakness, just like everyone else.”

“You’re wrong; they loved me!”

“Then tell me all about your latest ‘romantic’ proposal,” he said sarcastically, slowly circling her like a leopard sizing up a wounded doe, deciding what part of her soft, defenseless flesh he should sink his teeth into first. “Did he get down on one knee and declare his undying devotion? Whisper sweet nothings as you gazed at the stars? Give you a sparkling diamond ring and a bouquet of red roses?” he rasped in her ear as his hand teasingly stroked along her shoulders.

“He…he gave me a daisy,” she muttered, hopelessly staring at the floor.

“Ooo, a daisy! I’m sure it was the prettiest weed freshly picked from a crack in the sidewalk a woman could ask for.”

Spinning around, she struck him, the deafening slap of her open palm against his cheek echoing throughout the operatory. “Why are you such an asshole?!” she shouted, tears once again welling up in her big, dark eyes.

Even though he’d been expecting it, Law glared at her like a basilisk for her insubordination, smirk returning as she instantly cowered before him. Toying with her was so amusing, her reactions volatile yet comically predictable. Really, it was something he’d grown to enjoy over the years—seeing just how far he could push her before she snapped, only to watch her immediately regret it from nothing more than a cold look.

Relishing the power trip he got from her fear, the Corazon stalked back to the table. His victim’s eyes were becoming a bit clearer and his struggles had renewed, strained noises bubbling up in his throat as the drugs wore off. It seemed his body had processed the opioids more quickly than expected; too bad for the unlucky fool, but that just meant more fun for the Surgeon of Death.

Chuckling, Law glanced over his shoulder at Baby 5. With no one to cling to like she normally would, she’d remained frozen in place, trembling as she fearfully awaited his response. Dismemberment was his go-to punishment for her if her were in a particularly bad mood, though he always put her back together, and by the next morning she’d be back to scolding him for not showing the young master enough respect or stealing her last cigarette.

Lucky for her, this was one of his better days, so instead of having her join the man on the table, Law threw her a bone. “I need you to fetch me that gag on the counter. I don’t trust my patient not to start screaming again, and it would be rude of him to cause a racket when we’re trying to have a conversation.”

The second the word “need” had left his mouth, Baby 5 ceased her cowering, dashing over to the counter and grabbing the leather gag, nearly tripping over herself in her eagerness to be useful.

Despite himself, the Dark Doctor gave the barest hint of a smile. Much as the woman annoyed him with her fanatical devotion to Doflamingo, her desire to help was just so pure it was, at times, endearing. If he were honest, Baby 5 was probably the one he hated the least in the organization; besides being the nicest to look at, her wants and needs were simple, and she could be surprisingly compassionate in little ways. She was one of the few who, despite considering him a traitor, had acknowledged just how much Cora-san had meant to Law. Held his hand while he’d mourned for his savior after he’d been dragged kicking and screaming back to the Family. Been genuinely thrilled that his Amber Lead Disease was cured. Taken up smoking with him as a small tribute to the former Corazon, huddling behind a tree as they retched at their first taste of tobacco.

If nothing else, he always enjoyed watching her attack their boss when he murdered her fiancés. Even when she failed, Law found it to be catharsis-by-proxy, as he spent most of his days plotting how to horribly and painfully murder the shichibukai. A hell of a turn-on, too; who wouldn’t have the occasional sexual fantasy about a hot maid trying to assassinate the man you hated most?

Sparing a nod of thanks, the surgeon shoved the gag into his patient’s mouth before tightening the restraints. He prided himself on his steady hands, and he wouldn’t have his work ruined because the worthless fool couldn’t keep still. “You may call me an asshole, but I’m the only one who cares about you enough to give the cold, hard truth. Everyone else sugar-coats their words so they can keep you compliant and unwilling to think for yourself. So, you’re welcome.”

Hands fisting on her hips, Baby 5 scowled. It was remarkable how she could go from trembling before him to arguing like they were still children. “Oh, so people who are awful to me care, and yet the men you claim give such horrible proposals don’t? You’re so full of shit, Law!”

He shrugged, taking another sip of his now-lukewarm coffee. “Am I? Even when I was officially promoted to Corazon, you still treated me the same as when we were kids—slapping me when I got mouthy and refusing to kiss my ass like all the other sycophants in this shithole. Are you saying you don’t care about me?”

Her beautiful face twisted in genuine confusion. “I…well, of course I do, but…”

“I let you get away with so much more than anyone else. You hit me, insult me, order me about, and the most I’ve ever done is cut off your limbs for a few hours, and I always fix you back up good as new. Because, even though you’re a foolish, emotional pain in the ass, our little spats are the only thing that feel genuine some days. To you, I’m just Law, and I actually appreciate that.” It surprised him how honest he was being, but he supposed it was as he said; he cared enough not to bullshit her, at least compared to the others.

“You do?”

“Yeah. So that’s why I’m telling you to stop accepting every ‘proposal’ a guy throws your way. You’re famous for your eagerness to please, and men are always looking to take advantage of that. And even if you did manage to find the one decent soul in this world who genuinely loved you, Joker will never let you go. He’ll kill anyone who might take you from the Family.”

Something sparked in her eyes at his words, as if he’d given her the greatest epiphany of her life. “Maybe…maybe I could marry someone in the Family, then! Trebol nearly offered just this afternoon!”

Law gagged on his coffee at the very thought. A man like him needed a strong stomach, but perhaps he did have some limits, after all; not even he would inflict marriage to the snot-dripping freak on someone. “Please tell me you had to good sense not to accept.” He facepalmed at her embarrassed blush. How could anyone’s standards be so low? Was marriage really such an enticing concept that she’d bed that? And the risk of death aside, shouldn’t a woman as sexy and submissive as her attract better suitors?

A sudden, cruel idea popped into his head. What if he married Baby 5? A dangerous assassin and obedient maid could certainly be useful in his scheme. Doflamingo wouldn’t dare kill him for proposing; not if he wanted that Perennial Youth Surgery. He wouldn’t even have a good excuse to refuse the match, considering how it would both keep Baby in the Family and—so he’d believe—further secure his Corazon’s loyalty. After all, what better reward could Law ask for after years of faithful service than a gorgeous trophy wife?

And on the day he finally enacted his revenge against the Heavenly Demon, he’d either have a powerful, completely devoted ally in Baby 5, or she’d be too crippled by indecision to pick between them, keeping her from interfering. Either way, Joker would have lost a piece on the chessboard and not even know until it was too late.

A little voice that sounded disturbingly like Cora-san’s whispered in his ear that using Baby 5 like that made him no better than the Doflamingo, but Law brushed it away. If anything, he was being kind to the silly maid; hadn’t Rosinante wanted to keep him, Baby 5, and Buffalo out of Joker’s clutches? The Marine’s own methods of doing so hadn’t been gentle or entirely ethical, either—throwing kids out of a window wasn’t exactly a safe way to deter them from a life of piracy. Besides, even with his not-so-noble intentions towards her, Law was still a far better suitor than anyone she’d pick on her own. In fact, he was making her dream of becoming a wife a reality, and wasn’t that generous of him?

Putting his mug down, the surgeon reached out to gently rest his fingertips under her chin. Startled at the unexpected contact, Baby 5 nearly stumbled back, but he stepped closer, wrapping his arm securely around her waist to steady her. “It astounds me that a woman as beautiful as you would even consider settling for a disgusting thing such as Trebol,” he said lowly, looking deeply into her obsidian eyes. It would be easy to simply say he needed her or demand she marry him, but he wanted to be sure her loyalty fully shifted to him, otherwise, she could become a liability.

Besides, seduction was just so much more fun; since he’d hit adulthood, Law’d indulged in all manner of sexual vices with hundreds of partners, men and women alike. After all, he hadn’t expected to live past thirteen, and even with his Amber Lead Disease gone, he was on a ticking clock. Death loomed on his horizon, whether it he be killed in battle, forced to fulfill his purpose and conducting the Perennial Youth Surgery, or Joker uncovering his betrayal. So, in between plotting and research, why not make the most out of the time he had? And for all her annoying quirks, Baby 5 was a gorgeous, obedient woman, and he’d be lying if he didn’t like it when she showed her feisty side. She’d starred in many a wet dream over the years, and now he could finally justify making them a reality.

Hot, coffee-scented breath made the wispy strands of hair that framed her face flutter delicately. “You’d see you’ve got far better options if you simply opened your eyes.”

For her part, Baby 5 was utterly shocked. First, Law admitting that he cared about her, and now he was implying there was someone out there who might be interested in proposing? Was he serious, or just making fun of her like Trebol?

Slowly, the tattooed fingers at her chin journeyed south, brushing lightly down her pale throat, over her trembling heart, between her voluptuous breasts, across her trim waist, until they reached the pocket of her apron. Her eyes were fixated on his hand as he fished out a cigarette and her lighter, her breath quickening as he raised the former to her mouth. Instinctively, she opened up to take it, but with a playful smirk, he teasingly ran the filter over her bright red lips, amused at the way the cherry gloss stained the white paper.

Finally, he pushed the cigarette between her lips, murmuring, “Have you ever been kissed before, Baby-ya?”

The way her cheeks went pink was so uncharacteristically demure he had to chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, sending strange but thrilling tingles between her legs. “N-no,” she stammered bashfully.

With a soft click, Law flicked the sparkwheel with his thumb, carefully bringing the dancing flame to light the tip of the cigarette. He could tell he was making her nervous by the way she hurriedly took several steadying puffs, embers flaring with every inhalation.

“Such a shame. I imagine there are women who would kill for lips like yours. And the way you practically suck on that cigarette,” he growled, gold eyes fixating on her mouth, “it gives a man ideas.”

“What kind of ideas?” she asked, breathless and full of wide-eyed, eager curiosity.

Unconsciously, his arm tightened around her waist at her innocence, forcing her to arch against him, soft curves molding against hard muscle. God, she didn’t even know how tempting that question made her. If he were a man with less control, she’d be on her knees learning first-hand what a mouth like hers was made for.

Plucking the cigarette from her unresisting lips, Law took a long drag before blowing the smoke out his nose as he looked down at her with hooded eyes. Licking his lips, he could taste the lingering hints of cherry gloss, sharp and sweet and delicious. “The kind a sweet little thing like you wouldn’t ever dream of.”

“Are they,” she swallowed harshly, pupils dilating as she instinctively gripped his lab coat, “the kind husbands and wives have?”

“Husbands and wives, lovers, bedmates, bored, horny teenagers; basically, anyone who likes to fuck,” he replied before taking another drag. As he leaned back his head to release the stream of smoke into the air, he smirked devilishly at her rapt expression. Oh, he was going to ruin her.

Gently tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear, he murmured, “Let me talk to Joker. Maybe I can pick his brain, figure out if there’s anyone he would consider a worthy husband for you.”

He forced himself not to laugh at the shadow of disappointment that crossed her face. Dropping her gaze, she pushed against his chest, trying to break away. “Ah…thank you, Law, but you don’t have to. I’d hate to be a burden, and you’re so busy—”

“Nonsense. A loyal, caring woman like you deserves a husband who appreciates everything you have to offer.” Deftly, he maneuvered them so her backside was pressed against the operating table, caging her in and thwarting her escape. Their legs entangled, Baby 5 had no choice but to meet his piercing gaze as he absently flicked the cigarette’s ashes onto a small puddle of blood by her hand. “I may not always agree with him, but he was right to kill the worthless bastards you were so infatuated with. Hell, my only complaint is that he always got to them before I did.”

“What?”

“I mean, if killing every man on the planet is what it takes for you to notice me…”

Baby 5 blinked blankly, mind desperately trying to process what he’d just let slip. “Law, are you…?”

“Am I what, Baby-ya?” he teased, leaning forward as he took another drag, his hot breath mingling with the sweet smoke as it fanned over her lovely face.

“Are you…proposing?”

“What if I were? Would you blindly accept like you did Trebol’s?” Putting the cigarette down, he ran the very tips of his fingers over her exposed collarbone before resting his palm over her thundering heart. He was positive if he removed it, it would jump right out of his hand. “Are you so desperate that you’d accept the proposal of a man who’s cut you apart for fun?” Roughly, his other hand buried itself in her thick, jet black hair, yanking her head back and pulling her even closer until their lips lingered barely an inch apart. “So desperate you’d give yourself over to a man covered in blood, pressed against an operating table occupied by a half-dissected idiot?”

“Yes,” she replied with bated breath, hopeful eyes sparkling.

God, she was weak. Law could pin her down and fuck her on that table, do any number of depraved things to that luscious, untouched body and she wouldn’t even complain so long as he said he needed her. The thought was tempting, but he couldn’t risk Joker refusing their union because he couldn’t control his libido. The Heavenly Demon had to feel like the surgeon genuinely desired his approval—that he wasn’t trying to go behind his back and destroy his wretched “Family.”

“Then no, I’m not.” Despair crumpled her face, tears once more welling up at how easily he’d played with her emotions. Before they could fully fall, Law released her hair to cup her chin. “Mainly because my pride would never let me give such a half-assed proposal. When I ask you to marry me, I’ll have Doflamingo’s blessing, a ring, and it’ll be somewhere far more romantic than my laboratory.”

Jaw dropping, she stared at him in disbelief. “Y-you mean that?”

“Absolutely. I can’t stand the sight of your tears; if marriage is what it takes to make you happy, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“Thank you, Law!” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. “You really do care about me!”

He had to chuckle as he returned her embrace; he knew she’d readily agree, but her pure joy at just the prospect of marrying him stroked his inflated ego.

“I promise I’ll be the best wife you could ask for! I’ll clean your surgical equipment twice a day, launder your lab coats by hand, give you back rubs, make onigiri for dinner every night—whatever you need!”

A tiny smile pulled at his lips. All such sweet, innocent promises from a woman who was far more sheltered than one would ever imagine from an assassin for a family of criminals. Though, he’d definitely take her up on that last one.

“Just promise me you’ll be a loyal, dutiful wife, Baby-ya, and I’ll give you a marriage unlike anything you’ve ever imagined,” he whispered intimately, cradling her cheek. His hand was so big he could fit the whole side of her face in his palm. She turned her face to nuzzle it blissfully, causing his calloused thumb to brush over her plump bottom lip.

Gold eyes darkened at the sight of her red lips against the tattooed appendage. Unconsciously, he stroked it against the seam of her mouth, gently coaxing her to open up and let it slip into her soft, hot mouth. He gave a faint moan at the sensation of her silken lips wrapping around him, molten tongue curiously stroking the rough pad. Experimentally, he gave it a few shallow thrusts, and he nearly lost his damn mind when she responded with an instinctive suck.

“Good girl,” he whispered without thinking, and the way her pupils dilated with desire at his words forced him to pull away, lest he jump the gun and the eager maid before him.

“Is…is that the kind of idea my mouth gives you?” she asked, panting faintly, her pale cheeks flushed as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

“That’s one of the tamer ideas,” he rasped, retrieving the forgotten cigarette. It had almost burnt down to the filter, but there was just enough left for a few steadying puffs. “Once we’re married, you’ll get to experience every dirty thought I’ve ever had about you. Would you like that?” he asked, unable to help himself.

Her harsh swallow was audible in the taut silence of the lab. “Yes.”

The pleasant throb between his legs urged him to start the wedding night early, but besides the logical part of his brain telling him he needed to set things in motion with Doflamingo, it was coaxing him to wait; this wasn’t the time or place to indulge in such a delicious morsel. Baby 5 needed to be savored, like a gourmet meal he’d spent hours preparing, not swallowed down in one bite. Once she was officially his, he’d have plenty of time to mold her into his perfect concubine, subordinate, secret weapon, and tool.

Desire under control, he took her hand, pressing a chaste, gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll meet with Joker tonight; I’m sure I can convince him we’re a match made in heaven. But I need you to not to tell anyone about us until I formally propose, alright? I want everything to be perfect, and we can’t risk Joker finding out too early and thinking we didn’t value his approval.”

Black eyes sparkled as his careful choice of words. “I promise, darling!”

“Such a good girl,” he chuckled, admiring the way her cheeks instantly flushed at his praise. How…interesting.

As Baby 5 giddily skipped out the door, the click of her heels silenced by the door slamming shut behind her, Law turned to the man bound to his table staring at him with wide-eyed shock. He’d nearly forgotten they’d had an audience, and he’d have to make sure he was properly disposed of before meeting with Joker; he couldn’t let anyone spoil his plans before he even got to the good part, after all.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said as he pressed the smoldering embers of the dying cigarette against his patient’s cheek, smirking as the accusing eyes watered in pain. A fresh pair of surgical gloves stretched over his long fingers, and as he selected his scalpel, he added, “Trust me—I’m still a better option than that fucking creep Trebol.”

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years

Text

CSUAVS prt 39 update

Taking the Telula from the Atlas to New Altea, via direct wormhole, Lance had missed his girl. He was up on his feet and on crutches... after the wheelchair they tried to stick him in mysteriously ended up taking a trip out the airlock at Lance's earliest convenience. Crutches weren't without their problems, like the way they irritated his shoulder and his even more fucked up left hand, but there was no way he was parting with them. He was out of the miserable medical room, and off the Atlas... A free man with the whole universe at his bare feet. Shoes were too much effort. Besides, what was the point of forcing himself into shoes when he was going straight to the hospital after they landed on Altea. Coran now knew about his drug problem... in detailish. Not just that the red liquid helped with pain, but that it was a combination of medications he'd been using to cope. They'd talked a little when he'd seen Daehra giving him injections before he was moved up to the Atlas with that stupid chest infection. It would have only hurt Coran to know that he'd been raped repeatedly for vargas at a time, so he'd smoothly told him that they addicted him while torturing him, which was the real truth of it all. Coran had still cried. Wailed hard enough that the nursing staff on the floor had thought something was wrong and sent Keith in to investigate. Keith, who finally reunited with Kosmo. Kosmo having been in his mother's care to keep him out of everyone's way while both Lance and Keith recovered. Lance had suggested that Keith take him for a walk so he could rest without his head getting stupid again. Landing the Telula in the area designated, Lance stared out at the splendour of New Altea, Allura's statue glowing beneath the golden sun as a beacon of hope for all the planets inhabitants. Lance could find no hope in it. All he could find were bitter memories, and reminders of how weak he was. Besides, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen enough of Allura since she died to have accepted she was never coming back. Turning away from the sight, Lance made his way forward on the crutches. It wasn't like his legs were busted, or the pain between his legs hadn't healed, he was simply too weak after spending four movements in bed to go far without support. If he'd asked, Keith would have been by his side in an instant, but he wanted to do this alone. He wanted to get up and move his body, feel the ache from his protesting wounds and tender sides. He wanted to feel something more than a patient and a burden... "Are you ready, my boy?" Nodding at Coran, Lance moved on. Steps were a bit of bitch, but again, he stubbornly wanted to do things himself. He'd been forced to rely on everyone around him for far too long. All of this... "Voltron family thing" wasn't him anymore. So while he'd racked up a debt to Shiro that he had no idea how to ever pay back, he wasn't able to mend any bridges between him and Hunk. Or Shay... and definitely not with Keith's team. When the initial upset of having Shiro invade his privacy had faded with laughter and a shower with the most amazing man he'd ever met, had passed, it'd all reared its angry head again when he had time to process it all. The fact that Shiro had sent someone to go through his things, his private things, and his ship, make him feel violated all over again. The Telula was his sanctuary. His safe space. The troubles of constantly living in fear of someone who'd raped him magically still being alive and after him, faded away when he was in his quarters. He knew his ship. He knew she'd protect him, like a lion of his making. Now he had to live with the knowledge she'd been violated too. People wouldn't understand if he told him. To them she was just a hulking lump of metal and wires, but to him... she was as good as any flesh and blood person. She'd seen him, night after night, as he cried. She'd listened to him venting over and over, caught his fist when it all became too much and snapped, and helped him build a new family against the evils of the space they shared. It didn't matter that she wasn't the newest or fastest ship out there, because he wasn't the smartest or greatest commander. He loved her for all she was. Leaning heavily on his crutches, Lance decided that going down the ramp was definitely worse than going down the stairs, especially when your boyfriend had a solid bite on his bottom lip and a worried gaze the whole time. How was he supposed to regain strength and all that, if everyone kept doing things for him? He would have felt a tiny bit proud of himself for making it down, if Keith hadn't moved to wrap an arm around his waist the moment the tips of the crutches touched the gravel of the landing area. Staring at his feet, he ignored the feelings of eyes on him. His gaze slowly shifting up to his left hand, which felt like it'd started bleeding again. Like the stupid idiot he was, he'd had a panic attack in the shower, slipping and smacking his left hand into the white tiles... all because he'd heard the steps of one of the nurses delivering something for him and Keith to eat. It had not been his finest varga. He'd lost it completely, back handed Keith, then torn out the cannula from the back of his within a few ticks of slipping. His little finger taking the worst of the damage as he wanted the feeling around his wrist to vanish, and yanked the bandages too hard. After being cleaned up by Daehra, he'd decided his left hand was as good as dead to him for betraying him and not healing fast enough for his own liking... or like it previously would have, had he not turned himself into a walking wound. "Mijo!" Jolting at the familiar voice, Keith leaned in to whisper "Your mother's here..." She was what now? No one had told him about this... Why had they even bothered too? He was supposed to be going straight into surgery, then into a pod, then disappearing in the middle of the night so he could go find out more about those connected to Kre'el. Shiro might have benched him, but that didn't mean he was giving up on finding out answers for himself. He had but a few ticks before his mother was wrapping her arms around him "Mami?" "Oh, my baby. Why didn't you tell me how badly injured you were?" "Mami..." "Veronica let me know all about you being transferred out here for surgery... Your poor shoulder. Your poor hand... oh, my baby boy" Standing stock still, Lance felt like he couldn't breathe. He was making her worry again. He didn't want her to worry. He didn't want to tear his family apart again "Mrs..." Releasing him, Lance's mother drew Keith into a firm hug "None of that, call me mami. It must have been so awful for you too, my dear boy. Thank you for getting my Lance out of there" "Uh... um... Lance was the one who saved me... its my fault he was injured" Keith stuttered out his reply, obviously not knowing how to accept the hug from his mother-in-law "Veronica told me how you made those calls. I don't know what that Kolivan was thinking, not sending help immediately" "There was a miscommunication. Because the address for the comms was unknown, he wasn't able to confirm it wasn't a trap for other Blade operatives. And I don't know what Veronica said, but it was Lance who saved us. He got me out of my cuffs and helped me subdue our captors. It was him who took their comms, and him who stopped us from ending up in the middle of nowhere with a psychopath... I only wish I'd been stronger..." Releasing Keith, his mother looked to him "You did that? You saved both of you?" Hesitantly, Lance nodded "Oh, Mijo... you've always been reckless and impulsive, but you've always known the right thing to do. I might not understand the details, but you did a good job, my son. We can discuss your grounding once you've been through your operation..." Dabbing at his eyes, his mother's words didn't feel real. He'd done a "good job". He. The man who kept fucking up. The one Veronica thought a burden... had done a "good job" "He did more than a good job. He saved a lot of people with his actions" "Spoken like a proud boyfriend. You two did finally..." Lance spluttered, his cheeks dusting red "Oh my god, mami! You can't just ask that" "Why not? It is so good to see you with someone who treasures you for who you are. You've always had such a kind heart, despite your antics. I can't say I approve such dangerous work, but I do sleep easier knowing Keith is there with you" This was a dream. He was freaking dreaming. He'd probably fallen down the ramp and smacked his head or something "And what have I told you about taking our Lord's name in vain" Nope. Not a dream. At least not at she smacked his arm lightly, and scolded him over saying "god" like that "Sorry, mami" "That's better. I'm sorry, Coran. You must be tired from dealing with these two. Both as bad as each other from what Veronica tells me" "Keith isn't as bad as Acxa. She's just upset that she's not the only one in the family dating someone part Galra" "She's quite taken by Acxa, but I didn't know it was all official. She didn't mention that they were finally dating. They're as bad as you two" Keith laughed. Both Lance and his mother looking to him for an explanation "You totally dobbed your sister in" Lance huffed. It was the same at all "So what? She apparently gives running reports to our mother. At least she doesn't know where dating" "That's because we're still working us out before we make everything official. Though with the amount of people in on the secret, I'm sure it'll be everywhere in no time" Clearing his throat, Coran bowed towards Lance's mother "It's an honour to see you again. I'm afraid it seems Altea is to blame for all of this. Lance and Keith were both very brave and carried out there mission with courage" "That's good to hear. We do worry for them both. Oh dear me, Lance. Should you really be on crutches?" "No, he's supposed to be in a wheelchair..." Lance elbowed Keith harder than he intended "Dobber" "I'm not the one who put the wheelchair out the airlock. Don't think I don't know what you did" Lance gaped, before quickly recovering "I was setting it free. You know, releasing it back to the wild. It's happier out there" "It's happier, or you're happier?" "Can't it be both? I'm fine on the crutches. I hurt my arm and my hand, not my legs" Lance's mother gave a light laugh, Coran gave more of a nervous chuckle "We really should be heading into the medical centre" "It's ok if you've got things to do Coran, I know where it is. Plus, someone needs to show my team around. Daehra is particularly interested in Altea" "Are you sure, my boy?" "I'll be fine. You already sent everything through ahead of time. Go tell Allura I'll stop by to see her later" "Alright. Have them call me if there's any trouble at all" "I will" Hobbling away with Keith on one side and his mother on the other, Keith shook his head at him "You totally threw Daehra under the bus just now" "I don't know what you mean" "I didn't hear her say anything on the trip here" "That's because she was in shock. Trust me. She's internally nerding out. Plus, I'm hoping Coran will have something to keep Zak busy. I don't my girl blowing up" "Always the schemer" "When it comes to escaping being smothered. Speaking of which, what else did Veronica tell you?" Looking to his mother, his mother sighed at him "She's just worried about you" "No. She's being nosy" "You were hurt" "And? Did she tell you we had a fight? That she wants me to come back home and stop getting in the way?" "Not in so many words..." Veronica was definitely off the Christmas card list this year "She worries for you" "There's worrying and then there's treating someone like they don't know how to do their job. The only reason she's got to be cranky is the whole heap of bad guys we dropped in their lap" "She said your nightmares came back" "Mami, its fine. I mean, yeah. But I'm having less of them, and I've got Keith now. I'm not coming back home because Veronica says I have to. I'll come back when I feel like I'm ready to. You understand that, don't you?" "Unfortunately. You spent half your life looking up at the stars. I know how lonely you've been not being out here. I just wish you'd take more care" "I know, mami. But it's not just me out here. The people my teams been helping are the like how Earth was under Galra control. They're still scared. They don't know how to help themselves or who to turn to. It feels good being out there" "It's alright to help mijo, but you can't help anyone if you're dead" "I know, mami. I know. Keith's been doing a good job keeping me alive" "I'm most grateful he has. Though I wish you'd fattened him up a bit. You're too thin, my love" "I know. Space doesn't have your delicious cooking" "Then you should come to Earth. Not to stay, if you don't want to, but for a family dinner. Let your father meet Keith properly and let me cook for you" "Mami" "Don't "mami" me in that tone. You always used to give me that tone when I was intruding" "Because you are. Everything's been so busy, we haven't had the time to just sit down and breathe. You know the moment papi sees how strong Keith is, he'll have out there working" "Come now, Lance. Your father isn't that bad. You've missed the junipers blooming, it was beautiful" As if being back on New Altea wasn't enough, now his mother was bringing up the junipers. As far as he was concerned, the whole lot could go up in flames. Not literally, of course. They were a source of income for his parents, who's farm had been struggling before the invasion of Earth. He regretted planting so many, knowing that each plant he'd planted was a silent prayer for Allura to return. It didn't sit right with him to be talking about it all in front of Keith. Keith was his future, and Allura was his past. That was how things needed to stay, and that was how he wanted things to stay. He was now with someone who understood him, all his bad points, who stood on their two feet and wouldn't... hopefully wouldn't leave him. If he'd loved Allura, then he had no words for the depth of love he felt for Keith... Keith who knew his dirtiest secrets, and stayed for some reason. He couldn't quite believe it... part of him didn't believe it, but it was easier to hide that now. It was easier when he was one there for Keith. To calm him. To soothe him with soft whispers after a nightmare. When Keith would get flustered over "not having the right words". Things were easier when the focus wasn't on him... and he felt equal in their relationship... or rather, not a useless burden like he was at the moment. "That sounds nice. How are things on Earth? It's been a while since I went back" "Busy. There's still a lot of cleanup, and organisation of those migrating there permanently. Thanks to Veronica's position on the Atlas, we're still kept in the loop. I ran into Katie while I was waiting for my shuttle. She says "hello, and tells you to call more often". Something about the both of you "flaking from Hunk's party"?" "She doesn't even remember Hunk's party" Mumbling under his breath, Lance was grateful that Keith was covering for him by talking to his mother "What was that?" "Nothing, mami. Keith and I were there" "I know you were dear. Still, you all went through so much together. Sometimes I have to pinch myself because I can't believe it" "It was a lot, but we couldn't have made it through without Lance. You raised an amazing man" Lance blushed, his bare feet suddenly exceptionally interesting "I can't take all the credit. Still, you must come for dinner. When you two are ready. Rachel will no doubt pester you. She has a had of riling Lance's feathers. Then again, he's always given as much as he's gotten. There was this one time when she convinced him mud pies were real pies" Oh god. It was date night with Allura all over again "That might explain his love of mud mask" Noooo. Keith wasn't allowed to join in with this "Guys. I'm right here" Leaning in, Keith kissed his cheek "I know, babe. But I'm not going anywhere, ever, so isn't it better if I get along with your family?" Increasing his hobbling speed, Lance threw back over his shoulder "I hate both of you" Sharing a look, Keith and his mother seemed to instantly be on the same wavelength. For someone who couldn't find the right words, Keith had managed to completely whoo his mother over... but then again, he knew they'd talked before... but how many times had Keith called her? Would it be weird if his accidental-husband was secretly best friends with his mother? Oh god... they both had more than embarrassing story they could share... Even affectionately, he couldn't handle it right now. His anxieties were starting to bubble up, because it wasn't like he was having surgery that damn day and was nervous as hell about that. Nope. As long as those two were content picking on him, he stood no chance. * Almost the moment they reached the hospital reception, a nurse was ushering Lance into a wheel chair, a second carrying a holopad as they started walking somewhere. Keith had expected a wait. There were all kinds of aliens in the waiting room, even with Lance being scheduled, Keith felt like they were cutting the line or something... Lance's mother seemed to think the same as she carried the crutches Lance had been using with a growingly worried look on her face. His boyfriend had grown quiet after he'd limped off in front of them. Keith hadn't meant to overstep, he knew how anxious Lance was over the sudden arrival of his mother, he could smell wafting in the air and taste it on his tongue. Neither of them expected her to be there, but it wasn't like they could simply send her home. She was Lance's mother, and she was clearly worried for her son. Wanting to take the pressure of Lance, he'd stepped up the best he could, semi-terrified that she was going to yell at him for Lance's injuries, thankfully she hadn't... but the surgery was still to come. "Alright Lance, we can take you straight through. Coran has sent through the data on your injuries. A few more scans and then we'll be good to go" What now? Blinking at his boyfriend, Lance was tugging on the fabric of the loose shirt he was wearing. His nerves getting the better of him "Sorry, do you mind if I come in with him?" The nurse looked down at the holopad "You're listed here as his emergency contact and have been given authorisation over his medical decisions. I'm sorry, but we can only bring one of you through" Hanging his head, Keith was sure that had to have hurt Lance's mother to hear. They were acting like she wasn't there at all. She should be there for her son. She'd probably worried herself sick night after night, after hearing Lance had been wounded, after disappearing again. Feeling a warm hand on his shoulder, Lance's mother had a soft smile on her face "No need to feel guilty. Heaven knows you've been by his side out here" "You're his mother..." "And he trusts you. This has been a traumatic time for both of you. Just make sure you let me know what's going on" "Between the scans and the surgery, am I going to get see both of them?" Lance's soft voice interrupted them. The nurse tapping on her holopad "Yes, for a few doboshes" "Then I'll go for the scans alone please" Lance's mother's expression told Keith she wanted to object "Mijo..." "Mami, it'll be ok. It's just scans. Why don't you get Keith to call Veronica for you? So you can tell her you've arrived safely" "I'd rather someone be with you" "It's only scans. We both know all they're going to say is that my shoulder's stuffed and needs operating on, then it's off to the pod for my beauty sleep. It's not like they're going to steal my absurdly good looks while neither of you are looking" Keith groaned, but Lance's mother gave a smile "Then you have to tell us both everything they say" "Yes, yes. Now, can we get this done?" Keith felt like he should say something. Lance was nervous. What if he had a panic attack? Or the scans revealed something that Daehra hadn't picked up. What if Lance was sicker than he was letting on? Or hurt worse than what they knew "Babe, are you sure? I don't mind" "You two are as bad as each other. You're making me nervous, everything will be fine... I love you two, so go away already" "Are you sure?" "Yes. You heard the nurse, scans, then a quick visit and off to surgery. There's a plan" "Ok... I... uh, love you" "I love you too. Mami, can you make sure he doesn't get too cranky while he's waiting? He gets cranky when he has to wait" "If raising you lot hasn't taught me the meaning of patience, nothing ever will. We'll be waiting here for you" "Right. Let's go!" Giving them a wave, Lance let himself be pushed off towards a set of white doors. The nurse with the holopad lingering "If you'd like to please wait in the waiting room, I will come and collect you once the scans are complete" Lance was right, Keith hated waiting. Lance's mother insisted that she didn't need to check in with Veronica, before asking if he needed anything. A question she repeated half a dozen times as they waited. The half-Galra felt like he should be in there, his gaze firmly fixed in the direction of the hall they'd parted in. Though unfair to the Altean species, Keith couldn't help it as he mentally blamed them for Lance's trauma, wondering if relations to Kre'el existed on the planet. Each Altean could have been working for her... Each of the aliens in the waiting room could be working for one of her associates... Yes, he knew he was being ridiculous. His mind often jumped to worse case scenarios when forced to wait. He knew it stemmed from waiting for his father to come home, only to learn he was dead and that no one out there wanted him... The memories of standing in front of his father's grave morphed with the idea of Lance being dead... His eyes tearing as he was pulled into a warm hug that felt more comforting than he wanted to admit "Lance will cry if he sees those tears. My son will be fine" "I'm sorry. He's right about this waiting thing. I'm not made for it" "Keith, can I ask you honestly, what happened out there? Did you catch the people who hurt my son? Who hurt both my sons?" Both her... oh... she meant him as well as Lance "Yeah. Yeah, we caught the person behind it all. He was... betrayed by a friend who wanted him for his Altean marks. He's been pretty down because he's been on bed rest instead of participating in the investigation..." "They hurt him?" "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I was right there and I wasn't enough for him..." "You stop that. Lance is hurting, but the look on his face when he looks at you. You mean the world to him. I know we've teased him his whole life, and I know he's taken it upon himself to always be there to support other, but he's let you. And I thank you for that. Allura was sweet, and very pretty, but after hearing everything that happened, I can't help but feel she didn't understand Lance like you do" "I don't know what I'd do without him. I'm sorry. I'm not normally like this" Crying on a woman who was still pretty much a stranger... How lower could he get? Lance wasn't going to die. Coran would have ensured Lance got the absolutely best care he could have. Lance's mother patted his knee "You're worried for him. I am too" "How are you so calm?" "I don't know how much Lance has told you, but there's always children in and out of our house. I can't count the number of times it's been trips down to the emergency room for something or other. We might not be on Earth, but I have no doubt Lance will be just fine" Keith nodded, sniffling lightly "You're right. He's going to be alright... Like you said, it was a lot. And I'm still worried about him. I know it's been hard on him after his fight with Veronica" "Veronica has loved Lance from the moment she first held him. Many times when he'd hurt himself playing as a kid, he'd go to her so I wouldn't find out" "He did mention the pink slipper" Laughing, Lance's mother rubbed his arm "He mentioned that?" "He says he still lives in fear of it" "Oh my... I doubt it'd have much affect on him these days. Veronica was at a loss when you were all missing. She didn't believe he was dead, then when he returned, he held himself with the aura of someone who didn't need to rely on others. He was our boy, our good boy, who missed watching growing into a man. I know she worried, I may not have helped there. Did he tell you how he was after Allura?" "Yeah... all of it" "So you know he had troubles?" "Yeah. We're working through things. We had been until... our mission went sideways" "Then you know he is strong. All these fancy machines, he should be done before we even know it" Nodding, Keith had no idea how he was going to last through the surgery if he was this nervous right now. Lance probably would cry if he saw he'd been crying. He didn't want Lance heading into surgery worrying about him "Is it ok... if we just stay like this for a little longer?" "Of course, my boy. You're already part of the family" The scans took roughly half a varga, before they were finally called through to a white room where Lance was laying on an examination bed. His shirt had been swapped for a white gown that sat nestled under his right arm as to expose his shoulder, and everything below the waist was covered "Hey guys. You're just in time" Shoved forward by Lance's mum, Keith stumbled over his feet as he made his way to Lance, taking his hand in his. Squeezing firmly, Lance met his eyes "You've been crying, Mullet. Don't tell me you interrogating him" "No, your mum was really nice. What did they say about you?" "Oh... shoulder's stuffed and they're kind of amazed I'm still using it. It's a pretty simple procedure, a varga at the most, then into the healing pod. They don't know how long I'll be in, until I'm actually in there" "So... nothing else major?" Keith asked, although he knew Lance wouldn't answer anything more in depth with his mother in the room "They're going to tidy up my finger a little more... anything else will be healed up by the pod. There's probably going to be a couple of scars, like this bad boy" "Mijo, how did this happen?" With his eyes on Lance, Keith hadn't heard his mother moving to stand just behind him "It was a blaster shot, only grazing. It got a little infected. Daehra took really good care of it. Stitched it up all be herself. It wasn't her fault it got infected" The inch long pink wound was mostly a scar now, with a small sliver of unhealed greeny scab in the middle of it "Of course. You and those guns. You do know you're supposed to be shooting them, not being shot" "I know, mami. They'll clean it up too. The rest of the scans were all ok. So you don't need to worry. There going to be here in a tick, so this is where you tell me you love me" Leaning in, Lance's mother kissed the top of his head "I do, my boy. I'll let you and Keith have a moment" "Thanks, mami. You should make the most of being on Altea. There's supposed to be a day spa around you" "And what am I going to do there?" "Spoil yourself? You deserve it, mami. You came all this way, you should make the most of it while you can" "You know I've never needed anything fancy" "That's why you need to take the chance. Plus, I'm sure you need the rest" "I will think about it" Lance beamed up at his mother "Good. I'll see you really soon" "I hope so, mijo" When the door to the room closed, Keith gently kissed Lance's forehead "How did it really go?" "Alright. Daehra would love their scanners. If you thought hers were scarily intimate, you haven't seen the ones here. They show you every single scar, and tell you how you got them" "Wow..." "Yeah... mami would have had a heart attack if she was there. Now, tell me why you're crying?" "I wasn't crying... much. I was just worried about you" "I'm fine... mostly. But you knew that" "Is there anything I should know, about your scans?" "I have amazingly high quintessence? And some scars and stuff... the pod won't take them away" "You know I don't mind your scars, don't you?" Lance looked to his lap "I want to say I do... but I'm really fucking nervous... they're going to knock me out for it... then into the pod... I... I'm scared I won't wake up. Or if I do, you won't be here" "Babe, no. You're going to be fine. I promised you a date, remember. And your mum wants us to go to family dinner" "The scans..." Cupping Lance's cheek, Keith rubbed at the soft skin under his thumb "Babe..." "They knew what had happened. There was some kind of scarring internally... apparently I don't heal as well as I think I do... or maybe it was because it happened before I really got into the drugs... that... yellow stuff mixed with the herbs speeds up my flow quintessence... which is already running faster than it should. That's why I heal faster than I should. It's not how it works on normal people. They... said it was fascinating..." Mumbling at him, Lance seemed to shrink before him. He suddenly seemed that much more frail than he'd realised "Babe, we're going to get through this. You're going to come through this surgery, then have your beauty nap in the pod. When you come out, we can have that bath together. Bubbles and all" Lance nuzzled into his touch, pressing a kiss to the heel of Keith's palm "Thanks... I don't feel that great about it. Knowing that I'm going to lose more time again..." "I know... I'm not going off planet without you" "I'm really... fucking scared" Leaning in, Keith kissed Lance gently. His hand still resting on Lance's cheek as Lance drew in a shaky breath "I know. I know your mum being here wasn't planned, but you did so good. She loves you, and I love you. We're going to be here" "You... can go you know. If you have to, or if I'm going to be in for phoebs. I don't want you to be stuck again" "I'm not stuck, and even if you think I am, I'm not" "But what if Shiro needs you?" "He can wait" "No. You should go if he does..." "Lance, I want to be there the moment that glass lid slides back. So you're not waking up alone" Stealing another kiss, Keith was confused as Lance deepened it. Slowly it morphed into one of the deepest kisses they'd shared. If it wasn't such a bittersweet moment, Keith would have been over the moon. Yet, he knew the kiss was Lance's way of saying goodbye on the off chance something went wrong. Lance wasn't ready for kisses like this. They were still working their way up to it. When the kiss came to an end, Keith rested his forehead against Lance's, staring into his ridiculously blue eyes "You're going to be fine. You're going to come through this and you're going to be fine. I love you, babe" "I love you, too. So much... so much, babe" "I know... I'm so proud of you" "I don't feel like you should be" "Then it's a good thing I can think for myself" "Someone has to be able to think. We'd be screwed otherwise" Nodding, Keith sighed softly "I wish I could trade places with you" "I'm glad it's me, and not you. I couldn't keep sane if something happened to you" "Since when have you been sane?" Lance let out a soft laugh "Touché..." As the nurse had said, they only had a few moments to themselves before they came in to collect Lance for surgery. Walking by the side of the bed, Keith stayed as close to Lance as he could until he was told he couldn't come through with them. Forced to stop, he watched Lance be wheeled away from him. His whole body shaking with fear that he wouldn't se his husband again. Coming up behind him, Lance's mother wrapped her arm around him "Come mijo. They will call us with news when there is news" "Yeah. You're right. I don't know what to do now" "We can wait in the waiting room, maybe you'd like to go for a walk?" "No. I'm not going anywhere until I know his surgery went alright" "Then would you like to humour this old lady, and get a cup of tea with me in the cafeteria" "You do know my mother's much older than you, don't you?" "Good answer. I'd like to know more about her, if you'll tell me" Bringing up his tragic past wasn't appealing. He wanted to find somewhere to sink down and hide until Lance was out of the pod. Nodding glumly, he let Lance's mother guide him. It was strange how close to Lance's scents hers was, her entirely different at the same time... like something was wrong with it. She was calming and soothing in a "mum" way, but wasn't what he wanted right now. This was going to be a long day.

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quietcatastrophe · 6 years

Text

To Begin Again- Chapter 6

I’ll keep this brief by simply saying thank you to everyone who has supported the journey of this story. This chapter is a pretty emotional glimpse into Jamie’s past, and I needed to make sure I did him justice. I know I’m the absolute worst about regular updates, but I’m grateful for your patience, and for everyone who has messaged to send encouragement. This chapter it dedicated to you guys!

Edit: I’m my rush to post yesterday, I forgot to mention my extraordinary beta @mo-nighean-rouge who polishes this tale to a shine for you all. She’s definitely the best, and I’m so grateful to her for coming on this ride with me!

Previously: 1 2 3 4 5

Jamie’s never been a particularly great traveler—prone to feelings of nausea and vertigo, especially if he’s not the one in the driver’s seat. But there’s something about the train that he’s always found soothing. There’s a steady dependability to the tracks, the course never really changing, and the clip of the scenery as it passes by the large windows makes him feel less trapped. It also reminds him of his childhood, tagging along with his father when he performed inspections. He still remembers the swell of importance he felt when his Da placed a much too large helmet on his head, and a lurid orange ScotsRail safety vest over his shoulders.

But for every happy memory, every fond recollection, there are the shadows of others that are more bittersweet. When he first thought of bringing Claire to Lallybroch, he imagined them making this trip together—sitting maybe a little too close to each other as he regaled her with stories about the Scottish countryside—but he finds himself lost in the spiral of his thoughts. He hasn’t told her much about his past—too concerned with her present, unwilling to drag her down with the demons that he’s mostly left behind. He can tell that she’s observed the change in his mood though, notices the surreptitious glances she sends him when she thinks he’s looking out the window. He’s not hiding from her, exactly, but he’s never been comfortable with his own vulnerability. He sees her reflection in the window, can see the way she wrestles with her own thoughts as they dance across her face. She is without guile—totally unable to hide the things she’s feeling or thinking— and he envies her in a way. He’s lived within the walls of his self-imposed fortress for so long, it’s hard to remember what it’s like to have someone to confide in.

“Are you alright, Jamie? You look a little bit lost.” Her fingers twist together in her lap, and he can’t resist reaching out with his own hand to calm their motion.

“I’m alright, Sassenach. I just get a wee bit melancholy when I think of going home. It’s nothing to trouble yerself over.” He sends her a smile that’s meant to placate, but he can tell it misses the mark. Maybe that fortress is not as strong as it once was.

“Jamie, you don’t have to share anything with me if you don’t wish to, but you don’t need to hide from me either. I wouldn’t be a particularly good friend if I only ever unloaded my burdens on you, and never gave you the opportunity to do the same.” She pauses briefly, her eyes imploring him to trust in her, the way she’s trusted in him. “Besides, you’re not the only one who can be a verra good listener.” She leans closer, bumps her shoulder into his, a teasing smile shining at him. He doesn’t want to add any more stress to her life—doesn’t want her to feel like she needs to be sorry for him. But he’s never been able to open up about his past, hasn’t ever talked about those years to anyone outside of his own family.

Looking into her eyes, he sees nothing but her honest concern for him. It’s not pity—not exactly, anyway— but rather the sense that their tragedies might mirror one another. It is the difference between sympathy and empathy, thinking and knowing. He thought he was better at hiding it, better at keeping it tucked away, but perhaps in this instance he’s found the one person who might truly understand the way he feels. He already knows he can trust Claire, a fact that makes everything else seem a little less scary. Decision made, he tightens his grip on her hands and draws in a fortifying breath.

“I was a verra lucky lad growing up. I had two parents that loved each other fully, and we bairns were never wanting for anything. We werena rich by any means, but our needs were well met. My mamwas an artist, a painter mostly, and her work was well-respected. My dawas an engineer on these rail lines.” He gestures to the car around them, and she smiles softly at him, encouraging him to continue.

“Our troubles didna start until we were a bit older. My Mam, she was in a car accident. It uh..she wasna...It didna take her right away.” He inhales a shaking breath, remembering the day his mother was brought to the hospital. “She was alive, but she never regained consciousness. They said she had a traumatic brain injury, and other internal bleeding.”

He feels his stomach start to turn as he recalls the details of that day. “It wasn’t until they started prepping her for surgery that they found…they realized she was pregnant. It was early on they said, she may not have even known herself. She was 38, but it had been twelve years since I was born, so I dinna even think they thought it was still possible.” He hears the interruption in Claire’s breathing, feels the way she shifts and curls into herself, a subconscious attempt to protect and shield the bairn growing within her.

He swipes at the tears that have begun to fall, unable to lift his gaze from the laces of his shoes. His hand is displaced as he feels Claire slide closer to him, looping her arm through his, and leaning her head against his shoulder. She squeezes his arm gently, and it’s enough to bring his eyes back to meet hers. They’re flooding with moisture just like his own, but rather than feeling drowned by her tears, he feels buoyed. They’re swimming in the sea of tragedy together. It’s enough to give him the strength to continue.

“My Da...he started to drink after. And no’ just drink like a Scotsman, mind ye. He was drunk from dawn until whenever he finally passed out from too much drink. We were all grown enough to know he had a problem, even when he was still trying to hide it from us,” He pauses to wipe away a few more tears that have escaped. Claire rests steadfastly against his side.

“Eventually, it got so bad that he couldna keep his job. That’s when Murtagh came to stay with us. But the damage was already well done by then. Willie was 18, and getting ready to leave for university in America. He was so ashamed of Da, I dinna think they spoke but in anger those few months. Jenny was 16, and already dating Ian at the time. She all but moved into his house once things got worse, shared a bedroom with Ian’s sister.” He tries to remember to make himself breathe-in through the nose, out from the mouth-repeating in his head.

“They say everyone deals with grief differently. My da dealt with it by drinking until he couldna remember. My brother got as far away from us as he could go. My sister ran away to another family, one that was whole and healthy. And then there was me.” It’s always been the hardest part for him—remembering the sudden isolation, the bitter loneliness—knowing with sudden and cruel certainty that there was nobody in the would he could depend on but himself. He drapes his palms over his bent knees, his knuckles flexing with tension.

“I considered myself a man already at twelve, ye ken? For a while I thought I could manage things when everyone else couldn’t. I thought I could be strong enough for everybody else. But time went on, and I was all alone. I got angry, Sassenach.” He looks to her, finding her eyes swollen with tears, but also smoldering with an anger of their own.

“I was angry at my mam, for leaving us. It was no’ right or fair of me, but things had been fine before she was gone. She left us alone, and we all fell apart without her. I was mad at my brother and sister, for leaving me behind. They had the means to escape and they used them, but I was still a boy, no matter what I thought about it. I was mad at my Da the most though. He couldna take care of himself, let alone mind me. By the time Murtagh came, I was different.” Her expression softens, and from anyone else it would feel too much like pity. But he knows that she truly understands. Knows that she’s also spent too much time alone and angry at everyone that left.

“I canna pretend I was an angel before it all, but after… I shut everyone out. If they were going to abandon me, I’d do the same. I was disobedient and reckless. Just a rude little bugger. Poor Murtagh threatened to skelp me on an almost daily basis, but I didna care.” He remembers these days a little more wistfully as his angry independence days. Making his own choices, taking charge, doing whatever he liked… it was his Peter Pan year.

“But as I got older, things only got worse. I made friends with the wrong crowd, started sneaking out and then just leaving for days at a time. I fancied myself a wee renegade ye see, acted as if I was invincible. I didna think Da even knew most of the times I’d run off. I always expected that I’d get back, and he’d be waiting for me in the dooryard with his arms crossed, ready to knock some sense back into me,” he attempts a weak smile, but feels the corners of his lips turn down instead. “He didna have any sense to spare then, though. Then it was Murtagh waiting for me, threatening to nail my ear to the barn door if I’d run off again, and dragging me by my ear so hard I thought he might actually do it.” He does manage a smile this time, one that she mirrors, thinking of his godfather, and all of the layers he hides beneath his surly exterior.

“It went on like that for a few years. We were existing, but no’ really living. My Da kept drinking himself into oblivion, and I kept running amok. I started high school with a criminal record.” He can’t help but look at her face, the need to see her reaction, to know how she feels, is overwhelming. “I had a wee...trespassing habit. I got more than my fair share of warnings, mind ye, but I didna heed them. I had no care for consequences.” Her gaze is assessing, but she doesn’t pull away from him, as he feared she might.

“For my sixteenth birthday, some of my mates...procured me a motorcycle. I didna ask any questions, but I knew that they didn’t come by it through honest means. I felt freer on that bike than I had ever felt in my life, Sassenach. Like none of my problems could keep up with me, if I just kept pushing the throttle. I could go anywhere I wanted, no one could stop me. Or so I thought, anyway,” he shifts in his seat, angling his knees toward her, bringing them face to face.

“I only had the bike about three weeks before I wrecked it. I loved to ride in the rain, even though it was dangerous. Maybe even because it was dangerous. I’d been running some hills, flying over the crests, making a great muddy mess of things. I’d started making my way home, still going way too fast, of course. I could see the lights from the village as I came down the last bend, but instead of banking the turn, I lost control on the loose gravel.” Her hand comes to rest on his knee, and he slides his palm over hers.

“I was thrown off the bike, and sailed quite a ways through the air before I met the dirt. Next thing I remember is waking up in hospital, stuck on my belly, no’ able to feel much of anything. I had only been wearing a t-shirt to ride, and when I was tossed, I landed on my back and slid across the road. I must’ve passed out from the pain, because I still canna recall being found, or the ride to the hospital. I was alone when I woke the first time, and I was sure I was dead. Everything was so white and still, and I couldna make my body move. When the doctor came in to see me, he told me I was lucky,” he shakes his head, able to see the truth in those words now, but at the time he thought the man was mad.

“I couldna possibly understand how anyone could think me lucky. Sure, I wasna dead, but I think part of me then would have welcomed death. My mind hadna been right for a long time, but then for my body to give out too...I think I almost wished for it.” He’s never said these words aloud before. Never let them breach the darkest corners of his thoughts, and it is both cathartic and terrifying to declare his demons.

“The accident was a wakeup call for all of us. When I woke the next morning, my Da was in the chair next to my bed. It was the first time I’d seen him stone sober in three and a half years. He kept telling me was how sorry he was, and that he was going to get better. That he was going to be our father again. I dinna ken how to believe in him anymore, but it did mean a lot that he was there with me. He was the one to call Willie and Jenny to let them know what had happened. Jenny was at the hospital less than an hour later. Willie came back to Scotland for the first time since leaving for school. We didna remember how to be near each other, how to be a family, but I think we all recognized that maybe we’d been given a second chance.” He hasn’t thought about those first few days in so long, the tentative rebuilding of his family something he prefers to leave soundly in the past. It had been unbearably awkward at first— they felt apprehensive around each other, unsure of how and if they still fit together — and Jamie had been in and out of lucidity due to the pain medication.

“And now? Have you had that second chance?” She asks, the hope in her voice is unmistakable.

“Aye, Mo Nighean Donn, we have. There are more good memories now than bad ones, which is why I’m so keen on taking ye. I think it’ll do ye some good to be away from all your troubles. And now that I’ve shared with ye all of my darkness, I’d like verra much to show you the light. Just like you’ve shown it to me, Sorcha.

Claire lifts their joined hands to her lips, placing a lingering kiss to the back of his hand. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.” Her grip tightens, and he wiggles his fingers until they interlace with hers.

“Are ye no’ scared of me then? Of my past? I’d understand if ye dinna want to be friends with someone like me.” his whole body sinks, his eyes downcast, the thought of her walking out of his life hitting him like a fist to the gut.

“Someone like you? James Fraser, please look at me!” she demands, her palm coming to rest on his cheek. “I can’t think of anyone that I like better than you, Jamie. You’re my best friend. Knowing about your past? It’s just another piece of what formed you in to the brilliant man you are today. If you can accept the baggage that I come with…” the hand not resting on his face moves to her belly. “If you can accept me as I am, knowing all you know about my past, then please know I can do the same for you. Readily, happily. And I’m so honored, really, that you chose me of all people, to share your story with. I’ve never felt...never known anyone like you before, Jamie. I’ve never been able to talk to someone the way I’ve talked to you, or related to someone as easily. I didn’t think I was ever going to be happy again, and then all of a sudden, there you were. I never saw you coming, really. But I’m so glad you did.”

He knows that it’s a risk— maybe too big of a risk— but he can’t seem to stop himself. He can’t seem to connect to his thoughts, reeling as they are, as his lips press gently to hers. He’s so overwhelmed with gratitude for her. To have met someone who understands him, who appreciates him just as he is, even knowing the shadows of his past...it’s more than he’s ever hoped for. He eases back a moment later, the contact brief yet poignant. He can see some of the longing he feels mirrored back to him as their eyes meet. Her brows are still raised just slightly, expressing her surprise at his sudden gesture. But he’s happy to note that she also looks more than a little pleased, the corners of her lips turned up in a coy smile.

“I’m glad I did as well, Sassenach.” She slides closer to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. It’s not close enough, so he brings his arm around her shoulders, tucking her head below his chin. They still have about an hour left before they arrive in Inverness, and he’d like nothing more than to spend that hour holding the woman he loves. And as Claire snuggles further into his chest, he thinks that she’ll be amenable to the idea as well.

#outlander fan fiction prompt exchange #outlander #modern au #jamie and claire

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spaceshipkat · 6 years

Note

How do you know when agent is for you? You've probably already answered that, so feel free to defer me to an old post. Also how many agents should I contact at a time? Ten? (Fear not -- I am not sending this bad boy to anyone until it reaches a marginally acceptable word-count lol)

you sent this a couple days ago, but it was actually the perfect time bc i had a call with my agent today and i can explain how i know he’s the right agent for me, vs my first agent.

but first, to answer your second question now bc the first answer became a novel, i always started with a round of 10 - 20 queries, and i’d typically choose faster agents to see if my query is working to hook anyone in. if i got a rejection, i sent out a new query to another agent, just so i could feel like i was still working toward my goal. and my opinion on it is you should query absolutely anyone you want so long as they represent your genre and category. (an agent who only reps nonfiction won’t want fiction, for example, no matter how cool it sounds.) don’t be afraid that one agent is any bigger than any other and thus choose not to query them at all. if i’d done that, my agent and i wouldn’t be working together (i had a referral as he was and still is closed to queries).

now for your first question: my current agent has stuck with me for two years (i signed the contract in late july/we went on sub early august of 2016), long after many people told me he’d drop me. i still don’t really understand why he’s stuck with me, but i always know that he believes in me and my books bc he gives them the time they deserve and he’s vocal in what he likes and doesn’t like.

his client list is full and i’m one of the very few who hasn’t sold (my phoenix WIP will be book 5 with him, though we didn’t sub book 4) this far into my career pursuits. for example, he signed a client a few months after me and went on sub in december. two weeks later, she had a major deal with one of the Big 5. thus, naturally, for the first year we worked together i was concerned he’d drop me after book 1 didn’t sell and book 2 didn’t sell, but then by book 3 i had a feeling he’d stay loyal and he has.

but all of that? i didn’t know all of that when i signed with him. i had some references from writers (past and current clients, as well as those who just knew of him bc he’s a pretty big ya agent) and my experience with him during my R&R, and some hope that we’d work well together. but i also knew from clients that he’s an aggressive agent (in that he is a go-getter when it comes to subbing books, isn’t afraid to breathe down editors’ necks if they’re being slow or not communicating well, that sort of thing) and he’s also a fast reader for clients. (well, typically, depending on the time of year, but that’s true of any agent.) so all of that appealed to me bc that’s the kind of person i am.

so, to compare that to my first agent: after book 1 didn’t sell, i worked on book 2 and gave it to her and six months later she’d read no more than 150 pages of it. she kept giving me excuses, saying she was busy with this, that, and the other thing, without ever proving to me that she valued me as a client. the last straw for me was the week after the date she’d told me she’d have my book read (this was the fourth time she’d given me a date) and she just replied that she was busy with another contract and would get to me eventually. and when i fired her, she didn’t even fight to keep me. (it should be known that this book 2 with her is the one that got me my current agent.)

for some, a slow agent works well for them, especially if they’re a slower writer. i’m not. my typical first draft is done in a couple months, depending on how busy i am. so when i sent the book to her after my CPs read it and she was taking six months to read 150 pages? there was a serious problem there for me. it was too slow, too passive. but when i signed with her, i wouldn’t have known that.

and that’s the kicker. you will never know how an agent’s philosophy will work with yours until you sign with them. you can get as many references as possible and still never truly know, bc everyone’s experience with their agent is different. just look at the above with my current agent and how many people warned me against him. here we are book 5, and we just had a chat about my phoenix WIP to untangle any plot knots or tie up any loose ends.

he’s active in my career pursuits, which is how i know he’s loyal to me (and it will never stop surprising me). remember, agents only get paid if they sell your book. so long as you’re producing new material, your job is done. after that, it’s up to the agent to fulfill their job and sell it. (i’m still teaching myself this nearly six years into being an agented writer.) like i said a while ago, you don’t want to send your agent a thousand emails in a thousand threads about a thousand topics, y’know? but you also never want to feel like a burden. i still feel that way sometimes (for no other reason than i’m a worry wart, bc my agent has never made me feel that way) and i often have to get my friends to give me a kick in the pants to just bite the bullet and send the email. (this is one reason you need a support system of people who know what it’s like to be a writer pursuing traditional publishing.) so, if your agent is making you believe that you’re a burden to them? time to 1) have a chat and/or 2) fire them. both of those can be done over email, as mine were with my first agent.

another way to tell they’re the one for you is that they want to know about your life. not in explicit details, ofc, but enough that they can get a picture of who you are. like today, my agent and i were talking about college bc my little sister is starting freshman year and his eldest daughter is touring for schools. our last phone call we were talking about a concert he went to see where one singer was so hot he came onto the stage in a nude bodysuit. i’ve mentioned my surgery to him, my brother dying, and graduating college, and he’s told me about his daughter’s surgery, where he’s hoping to travel next summer, and how his daughter went on a study abroad thing for a few weeks in the spring. none of it’s deep, but it’s enough that if you two are sitting at a table over dinner at some conference, you’re not going to be sitting there in silence. you won’t feel like strangers to each other.

and everyone, of course, has different philosophies on that. it works well for me bc the more i know him, the better i feel about emailing him or explaining why i included one subplot. i have a friend who doesn’t really ever talk to her agent now that she’s sold a book bc that’s just not how it works for her. another friend talks to her agent more than i talk to my own, and she and he have met up a few times for dinners and whatnot when she’s in NYC. many writers will go to NYC to meet with their agent and editor after they’ve sold a book. (a lot of publishing is about who you know because that can really get your foot in the door. for example, a lot of editors now know me by name and ask for my work. when i query my adult book, i’ll be querying some former editors, now agents who read my books when my agent sent them out on sub.)

and lastly bc holy shit this is a novel, you want to make sure you know where you stand in terms of control over sub. some agents don’t want their clients to suggest editors, while others are willing to look at some you suggest. i’ve given my agent several referrals from friends to sub to their editors and he’s always happy to take them up on it (well, within reason, bc if he’s heard some iffy stuff about editors he won’t send them, no matter what). in the end, i always leave it up to him, since he’s the professional who makes lasting relationships with any editors, scouts, foreign rights agents, film producers, etc etc.

to end this, lemme do a TL;DR: to know if an agent is for you, you need to trust and have faith in your agent with your books and your career, you need to feel comfortable with them (it doesn’t always come right away, believe me, bc you are virtually strangers), you need to have an idea of what kind of working relationship you have in mind and see if your agent shares the same philosophy, and you need to make sure your agent doesn’t make you feel like a burden. when you get off the phone with your agent, you need to feel energized to start working (as i do rn, as it happens) and not dreading the edits in a certain way: everyone dreads edits, especially if they’re intense. that’s not what i mean. i mean that if you dread the edits bc you don’t agree with them, feel it would change a huge portion of your book, or veer it far away from your vision, you need to consider whether to argue with your agent on this matter or part ways.

i think, overall, working with agents seems more daunting than it really is for no other reason than how hush-hush everyone is told to be–and with good reason. publishing is a small industry and people talk (i’m the head of the department of redundancy department, in case you didn’t know bc I say that so often 😂), so you don’t want to start publicly complaining about any specific person, naming names and pointing fingers and whatnot. you also don’t want to tweet that you just got an offer of rep bc any other agents looking at your feed (as they often do when considering you as a client) will probably decide you’ve tipped your hat already and dont want to compete. celebrate in private, basically. so agented writers are often silent on any given matter for no other reason than protecting their careers/reputation, but most writers are happy to talk in private if a potential client emails them to ask how this agent works and how happy they are with that agent.

and i really need to shut up. i hope some of my ramblings make sense and have some feeble sense of direction, but if not, ask away! (as you can see, i like to ramble 😂).

#ask #a-thousand-times-goodnight #kat rambles #writeblr #querying #literary agents #writing advice #query tips #publishing

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some---words · 6 years

Text

The day he let go.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: I wrote this five years and change ago and, while it has gotten easier over time, or at least easy enough that I don’t have to take the whole anniversary off every year, I can’t quite bring myself to write something new about it today. So here are my words from when it all still felt so raw.]

A year ago today, my dad said goodbye.

He had been in the hospital for two weeks and a barrage of tests had failed to give us any definitive information that might explain what had landed him there, in the first place. We knew it was cancer, and that the months of not eating had taken chemo off the table; what we didn’t understand was why the hospital kept insisting that he needed to eat, then preventing him from doing so for 12 hours at a time in order to subject him to more meaningless tests. The cycle was maddening.

That Friday morning, he had awoken in recovery from surgery the night before and, in a fit of terrified confusion, had managed to yank the breathing tube from his throat in spite of the restraints that were supposed to have kept him from doing just that. By the time I arrived at the hospital, blissfully unaware of what had occurred (I had finally had a full night’s sleep in my sister’s hotel room, after spending a week in a cot by his side), I found him sedated, defeated, beaten down by the hopelessness that surrounded him.

Softly, he said, “I think it’s time to say goodbye.”

The tears came before I could stop them. Alone with him in the ICU, I held his hand and begged him to stay strong. Through desperate, choking sobs, I reminded him of the countless times the tables had been turned, when it was I who was ready to give up and say goodbye, and he who had pleaded with me to hold on for just another day (knowing full well that the darkness that had overtaking me would pass again in due time). It was my turn, I said, to keep him here.

And then I started making plans. I wanted to set up a camera and some lights and finally get all of his incredible stories on film, from his idyllic adolescence in the Chicago suburbs of the 1950s to the decade-plus in Saigon and Jakarta and everything in between. I wanted to drive with him up the Pacific coast, past San Francisco and up through Oregon and Washington and maybe even up to Vancouver, simply because we’d never been and he always was my favorite person to drive with. I would come visit every weekend, I told him—he couldn’t get rid of me if he tried. It all boiled down to one indisputable fact: that hope was far from lost. The doctor would be in soon to tell him definitively that the surgery had worked. My sister was on her way down from the airport, his grandson in tow. He would be fine if he just didn’t give up.

“Okay,” he said finally, though the conviction was gone from his voice and he seemed to be placating me more than anything. “I didn’t realize the surgery had gone well.” It was several days later before I realized that he hadn’t taken back his goodbye. Not really.

We spent three more days with him. On Friday, he played with his grandson, still too small to understand why grandpa couldn’t get out of bed and hold him. We made preparations to bring him home: my sister and mother shopped for a fancy new bed, and my boyfriend cleaned his bathroom (a mighty feat, to be sure). I simply stayed with him, keeping a watchful eye and continuing to lie to myself that everything would be okay, that it would all be back to normal soon. I drove my boyfriend home on Saturday and was halfway back to the hospital when my sister called, telling me that Daddy wanted me to stay home and get a real night’s rest. He had kicked everyone out of his room, she said. I think he hoped to pass peacefully in the night, without burdening us with having to watch, but things never work out quite as we plan, I suppose.

In the end, it all felt like borrowed time. He had meant it when he’d said goodbye. That was the day he had let go.

#essay #memoir #personal #grief #losing a parent

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bastardsonofday · 6 years

Text

Fine, Just Fine

Prompt: Infected wounds/septicemia

Cassian is in trouble

aka cassian’s wings get infected after hybern

originally lucien wasn’t going to be in this but if sjm won’t write lucien’s character development then god damn it i will.

ao3 bingo prompts series

“How am I doing Az?” Cassian asked tiredly, his eyes drooped.

“You’re doing fine, Cass.” Azriel whispered, trying to keep his voice from cracking and his tears from his eyes. “Just fine.”

Cassian nodded softly. His eyelids fell and Cassian began to snore softly.

Azriel looked at the nurse. He held Cassian’s hand in his, unable to let go. Az sniffed loudly, and wiped at his watering eyes. “How-How long?”

The nurse sighed. “If all goes well, sir, a few months.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Let’s not think about that sir, not yet.” The nurse gave Az a reassuring smile and pat on the shoulder. Then someone called for her and she rushed off to help a patient.

Rhys came to relieve Az from Cass’s side, but Az didn’t want to go. Rhys sat next to him, pulling him into a hug. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s been sleeping for a while.” Az said softly.

“That’s good—gives him time to heal.”

“He won’t eat anything.”

Rhys deflated. He slumped in his chair. Rhys glanced at Azriel, studying him. He looked horrible, and didn’t smell that great either. Azriel hadn’t shaved, his clothes were still dirty and bloody from Hybern… Rhysand glanced at Cassian who’s snuffling had become slightly uneven. He hovered a hand over Cass’s mouth just to make sure he was still breathing.

Azriel snorted. “I’ve done that fifteen times today.”

“You should go to bed. And shower. Shower before bed. Unless you’re really tired, then bed first.”

Azriel scowled. “I’m not leaving him alone.”

“I’m with him!”

Azriel frowned. Then he sighed. “Fine. But in…” he glanced at the clock, “in eight hours and change, I’ll be back to relieve you.”

“If you can drag me away.” Rhysand stretched and cracked his back. Rhys took Cassian’s limp hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere for a while. Enjoy the break.”

Azriel left the room and Rhysand watching Cassian’s chest rise and fall. Just seeing that movement… rising and falling… it lulled Rhysand into a state of calm.

It was the bad smell that hit Rhysand’s nose that shattered his calm. He didn’t know what it was… it smelled like rot. What could that have possibly been? It wasn’t as though Cassian had farted, farts didn’t smell like that, (though he’d been told by Madja that flatulence was a good thing as it showed his bowel functions were working). Maybe the smell was a remnant of some medicine they were feeding him. But then… why would it smell like rot? The smell was very faint as it was, so it probably would go away in a little. Rhysand could only tell it was there because he’d been sitting in the room for so long. His state of calm disappeared and all that was left was a whisper of anxiety from the smell.

Madja frowned when she walked in. She nodded to one of her nurses which followed her in and Madja beelined for Cassian.

Rhysand started and the nurse put a kind hand on his shoulder. “High Lord, it’s okay. We’re just checking his bandages.”

Madja peeled back the bandages and Cassian whimpered. Rhysand was on his feet in a second, the nurse grabbing him—holding him back.

“Stop! You’re hurting him!” Rhys demanded.

“Sire, I must. I’ll be very gentle.” Madja said softly, understandingly. She was used to such outbursts from family.

Rhysand squeezed his eyes shut to stop any tears. “I’m-I apologize, Madja. I trust you. I-I know you-I know you know what you’re doing.”

Madja smiled and the nurse patted Rhys’s shoulders. “We know.”

“Would you like to stay, High Lord? You can watch if you so choose. Some loved ones prefer to leave...”

“No, no. I’ll stay.”

Madja smiled gently. “Very well. Sit down, Sire.”

Rhysand sat. Madja ordered the nurse to come over in a calm tone.

A too calm tone.

Cassian’s wings were riddled with large wounds. None of which were red and scabbing. No, instead they were yellow and puckered, and when Madja pulled back the last of the bandages, Rhysand brought a hand to their nose to block the wave of smell.

Madja and the nurse knew what that meant, even if Rhysand didn’t.

It definitely had not been a fart.

“Get him out of here.” Madja ordered calmly.

The nurse nodded, grabbing Rhys roughly by the arm. “This way, my Lord.”

“Wait-What? Where are you taking me? What’s going on? What’s that smell?” Questions swarmed Rhysand’s head. Worry almost doubled him over, and fear kept him from lashing out at the nurse, though he did struggle. The nurse was deceptively strong and she shoved him out of the room, closing the door behind herself.

Rhysand wasn’t a doctor, but even he knew yellow wasn’t a good color unless the wound was a bruise.

“What is going on? Please you have to tell me!” Rhysand begged.

“We’re worried that...” She paused, as if she wasn’t sure how to continue, “… the General may be septic.”

“B-But how could that have happened? This is a hospital!”

“Unfortunately, an overwhelming percentage of infections contracted within a hospital are… from the hospital.”

Rhysand’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Alas… no. But we’re ready to take care of something like this, we just have to evaluate the situation.” But Rhysand must have still looked worried because she added: “he’s going to be okay, Sire. He’ll be okay.”

Rhysand was speechless.

“You can’t go back in there, High Lord. Not until we say so. We need to keep the room clear of as many foreign bodies that we can, so he doesn’t get worse.”

Rhysand said nothing.

“Do you understand me, Sire? I need you to understand me.”

Rhys nodded dully, staring at the door to Cassian’s room.

“I need to go tell the other healers…” The nurse took Rhys’s hand and squeezed it gently. She turned about to walk away when Rhys finally found his voice.

“Pl-ease.” His voice broke and he spoke. “Please, let him live.”

Rhysand wasn’t sure if he was talking to the Mother or to the nurse.

The nurse smiled though, as if she understood to whom and what he meant, as if she’d seen it many times before. Then she turned and took off running.

Running, Rhys thought stupidly, he felt as though he was floating, at that point where things were so bad he had begun to feel like he was in a dream, unable to feel anything good or bad—just nothing, that can’t be good.

Azriel sublimated his anger and guilt out on Amren (she’d offered, if she hadn’t he would be dead by now). Rhysand blamed himself—especially after Madja had sent a nurse out to ask (albeit, kindly) why he hadn’t noticed the smell and come to her. Feyre reassured him over and over though the bond, but it didn’t help. He wanted her here. He needed her here.

Morrigan was the one to comfort him, not that she could stay with him much. Mor was pretty busy with the Archeron Sisters who were just as high-maintenance as Rhysand was at the moment.

Rhys had even another layer of guilt because he was becoming such a mess and causing Mor trouble. He shouldn’t have been the one become a mess, he didn’t have a right. Feyre was sticking her neck out, if either of them was to be a mess it should have been her. He didn’t have a right to demand anything from Mor, she was keeping the Court running (with Amren’s help) and taking care of the Sisters (which, Feyre had admitted, took a better woman than her). He had no right to burden anyone else with his worry and guilt.

Then Madja came to him. Rhysand had become accustomed to the look on her face, and he knew what it meant. His stomach dropped into his knees.

“Azriel,” He whispered for his brother’s shadows to hear, “something’s happened.”

Cassian had gotten worse.

“You may want to sit down.” Madja said kindly. Rhysand sat. “Cassian’s infection has not gone down… I’m worried.”

Rhysand got dizzy. The world swayed. “I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting.”

“Oh...”

“Sire, we don’t want Cassian to go septic, because once he’s septic… there’s nothing we can do. Do you understand?”

Rhysand nodded.

“There is only one thing we can think of… Rhys,” Madja placed a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder, “we want to surgically debreed him.”

“What does that mean?”

“We need to cut the infected parts off of his wings as soon as possible.”

“You-You want to amputate-?”

“Not amputate. We would just cut out the infected part, before it spreads to his bloodstream and he becomes septic. Rhysand, he’ll never fly again. We need your approval before we operate, but Rhysand, you have no choice. We need it now.”

“Do it. Do whatever you can to save his life.” He’ll fly again. Rhys insisted in his mind, I don’t care what they say. He’ll fly again. He has to.

By the time the rest of the Court of Dreams arrived (sans the Archerons) Cassian was already in surgery.

Three hours and seventeen minutes later, Madja came out of the surgery room.

“Please, sit.”

“Is he alive?” Azriel demanded. Everyone stayed standing.

“He’s alive. No one will be able to see him until we say. The surgery went well, and we think we got all of the infection.”

“But what?” Mor insisted.

Madja sighed. “But… he will never fly again. And considering how much we had to cut out… I doubt he’ll be able to take prosthetics either. There aren’t small patches of wing missing, most of his wing-skin is gone. I’m sorry, but there was nothing we could do about that.”

No one spoke for a long time.

Finally, “He’ll fly again.”

“Lord Spymaste-”

“He’ll fly again.” Az snarled. He strode from the room, and that was the end of the subject.

“Cassian!” Feyre cried. She jumped into his bed, and he laughed, pulling her into a hug.

Lucien stood awkwardly in the doorway with Azriel who’d flown them both back to the Night Court (Lucien had been extremely unhappy about the arrangement).

“Your wings...” Lucien breathed, eyes wide.

Cassian sent Lucien a glare. He knew he shouldn’t blame Lucien, who had seen the errors of his ways, but a small part of himself did. Lucien was part of the reason Cassian would never fly again. Even until now, all of the prosthetics they’d tried had shown no results. Currently, Rhysand was commissioning another version of Cassian’s wing-patches which would hopefully be able to be strapped to Cassian’s wingbones so he could use them to catch air. If he couldn’t fly, hopefully he could at least glide.

But at the moment, Cassian’s wings were bare. Almost completely stripped to the bones, sparse with their leathery texture and the scarred edges were nerve-damaged. If his wings had been sensitive before, that was nothing compared to what they were now. Every slight breeze made Cassian flinch.

“What about them?” Cassian demanded.

“Cass-”

“I’m sorry.” Lucien said, surprising the General. “This is all my fault. I-” Lucien closed his mouth with a snap, mortification and horror in his eyes.

“It’s not… that bad.” Cassian said, suddenly uncomfortable being mad at a person who blamed himself already (though he still completely found Lucien at fault).

“I want to fix it. How can I-What can I do?”

Cassian held Lucien’s gaze and then shook his head, pulling Feyre in tighter. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Cass...-” Feyre said, as if she thought Cassian was cutting Lucien out from spite.

“Feyre, there’s nothing he can do. There’s nothing… anyone can do. I’ll never fly again.”

“I-I didn’t realize it was so bad. Why didn’t you tell me? Rhys just said-”

“He thinks I’ll fly again. I’ve already gone through the stages of grief, Feyre. My brothers have not.”

“If Rhys thinks you’ll fly again, then you’ll fly again.” Feyre insisted. She stared at her hands, clearly contemplating if she could do something to help.

Cassian wanted to disillusion her but he didn’t want to take away her hope. So he didn’t argue. Her face lit up with an idea and she ran to Azriel, bringing him outside presumably to scheme about ways to get Cassian in the air again.

Now alone, Lucien sat in the chair next to Cassian.

“I owe you for what I’ve done.” Lucien said, his intense eyes unwavering. Unshying.

Cassian held his gaze.

“Tell me, and I’ll do it.”

“We tried to talk to Nuan and… the metal is to heavy to fly.” Cassian explained. “Too heavy to even glide.”

“What can I do?” Lucien asked honestly.

“I don’t know yet. But one day, I will. And I have a feeling, your eye will come in handy.”

Lucien stared at him. It was as though Lucien had his mask back on again. Cassian had no idea what the Fox Boy of Prythian was thinking.

“It’s yours.” Lucien promised.

Cassian held out a hand.

Lucien took it.

The whorl of magic swirled up Cassian’s back, curling around his wingbones. Large black curls and swirls of magic depicted the outline of an eye between the joints that connected Cassian’s useless wings to his back. Another whorl of magic colored Lucien’s face. It arched around his eye, waving up and down over his lid, dancing around his scar, and decorating his eyebrow.

They dropped their hands.

“To cover that up you’ll have to put that mask back on.” Cassian joked.

“Don’t think you’ll have it any easier.” Lucien said, crossing his legs.

Cassian snorted. His eyes met Lucien’s once again.

“How are you doing, Cass?” Lucien asked. “Really,” he added before Cassian could open his mouth, “really how are you doing?”

“Fine, Foxy.” Cassian said, a fake smile sunning his face. “Just fine.”

#diana writes #diana writes a court of thorns and roses #disabled!cassian #i apologize if i portrey cassian badly tell me if i should change anything or if anything i wrote was offensive #cassian #rhysand #azriel #cass & az & rhys #lucien vanserra #i mean hes in this too #so

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makemyskinyoursanctuary · 6 years

Photo

I hope you take the time to read this. Her story deserves to be heard. For months now, people have been telling me that I am so strong, but my mother was the definition of strength. She was also humble, generous, brave, funny, beautiful, stubborn, selfless and my hero. I'm not sure she ever understood the impact she left on people, especially me. Her story is heavy, from beginning to end. She never let me feel any of the weight. This isn't a read for the light hearted, but I want people to know what a warrior she truly was. My mom was born in Saigon, Vietnam. She was one of six children- the rebellious one at that. She was the socialite, the troublemaker, and very independent. She was the most unique of the sisters, as she was not analytical- she thrived in all forms of art. From early on, my mom was determined to follow her passions even though my grandparents were not able support it while living under the communist reign. She saved up all of her money, bought a classical guitar & sheet music, and taught herself how to play. She used to tell me about how she had a band with her friends and they would get together to sing pop music. Late one night, when my mom was playing, communist officers stood outside and listened for hours. After she finished, they came in and destroyed her instruments and music books.They tried to arrest her for playing songs from "the old country". My grandpa had to beg and pleaded until they agreed not to take her away. My mom was always fearless. She tried to escape the country 9 times, with a few of the attempts leading to jail time. But, even in jail, she made the best of it and made friends. The tenth and final attempt was made with her sister. She was in a group of 71 with 200 people overall that were trying to escape the shore. Her group hid beneath the deck of a disguised cargo ship. Between the captin not making it aboard and the storms that blew them far into the ocean, the two day trip turned into surviving 3 days and 4 nights in the terrifying waters. When they came into the sights of the pirates, they were luckily left alone and not pillaged like many ships before them because of the direction they were coming to shore from. They landed and began their chapter in refugee camps. There they stayed in camps in Thailand and the Philippines for two very difficult years, sometimes not having any food or water. My mom told me stories about sleeping on the ground under trees and collecting rain in plastic bags just to have water to drink. In 1983 the United Nations sponsored my mom and aunt and they moved to Utica. Her fight for the American dream was never easy. She had her heart set on going to college but had to take a job to provide for her and her sister. My mom ALWAYS had the strongest work ethic. She eventually married my father, got the chance to complete a degree in the Science of Photography and then opened our family legacy of Aversa Photography. My parents were a power house. Their business was undeniably one of the best studios of its time. They poured everything into the business and worked around the clock. My mom’s one regret was that she felt like she worked too much when I was young. When my parents eventually divorced, she became the sole owner and continued to keep the business going in case I ever wanted to take it over. Although I had worked in the studio for over a decade and also went to college for a Photo degree, she never pressured me into taking over the business. She always wanted me to create my own legacy and chase my own dreams. She took me to cheerleading practice, piano and violin lessons, theatre and drama club, art classes, voice lessons, choir rehearsals, and even ballet for the couple months I tried it. She actually did ballet herself for a while, which I don't think very many people knew. She was always my number one supporter. She even let me have house shows when venues would back out last minute, knowing how import the local music scene was to me. She also was a huge supporter of my friends. She put so much effort into going to their shows, galleries, and events. She treated so many of my friends as her own children. She just had a natural way of making everyone feel welcome and safe. Last May, my mom found out she might have cervical cancer. Wanting to protect me, she kept me in the dark. She wanted to get everything under control then tell me she was going to be fine. She never got the chance. In June she was forced to tell me about her diagnosis, as she was having trouble with scheduling her hysterectomy and needed me to be on call to take her, something she didn't want me to be a witness to. After a few weeks after her surgery, I took her to her follow up appointment, where the Doctor told her she was in the clear. He looked at me and said she didn't need any further treatment. It would be the same as me getting radiation or chemo because nothing was showing signs of possible cancer. I remember getting in the car after and my mom questioning it and I just tried to reassure her because I heard news that I wanted to hear. Still keeping very quiet about her health. She started to have pain in her leg and side and followed up with the original surgeon. He completely wrote her off and told her that she must be sleeping funny and to follow up with her primary doctor. They scanned and found no cause for the pain, no blood clot, nothing, but during her yearly appointment, her GYN reviewed all the reports and discovered that it stated that there were large fragments of mass remaining in her cervix all along. She fought with her insurance again to get a biopsy. Once again, she kept this from me because she never wanted me to worry. I'm very grateful for her friends that helped her through these times. When she got the biopsy finally scheduled after weeks and weeks, she broke the news that she may not be ok. I took her to get the biopsy and wanting to protect me as always, she waited until after Thanksgiving to tell me the news. My mom was a stage 4 with pelvic cancer. The months that followed were hard and painful. We went in and out of the emergency rooms dealing with the side effects of chemo. She suffered from multiple blood clots, a failing kidney, hallucinations, and hearing that she didn't have options left, but she didn't give up. My mom didn't want to give up for me. She agreed to go to the Roswell Cancer Center in Buffalo and keep fighting. She went through six full rounds of chemo and we hit a dead end. The doctor said we could try to do surgery to alleviate some of her discomfort and maybe eventually try other treatments. In late April, my mom went into surgery and two hours later the doctor came out to speak to me. I'm pretty sure my heart and time stopped completely. I thought he was going to tell me he lost her, as the surgery was so complex, however, he gave us news of a miracle. They were able to remove almost all off the mass and said that she should be able to have many good years ahead, with a few precautionary treatments. The day after the surgery, my mom stood up and walked on her own for the first time in so long. I remember her looking over to Sean and I with tears in her eyes thanking us as she processed everything that had happened to her. This was the first time in so long we felt real hope. She was released, and we took her home to Syracuse. She walked up and down stairs, cooked once in a while and started to have a little bit of life again. Within a few weeks her stomach swelled, and we found out the mass returned. Along with that came the pains in her leg and she once again lost most of the ability to walk. The doctor performed another surgery and placed a drain from the mass in hopes to shrink it to possibly do radiation. I took her to her radiation consultation in June, a year after she told me about her original diagnosis. They said radiation was absolutely not an option. They were going to try a different type of chemo and the chances of it working were below 30%, but if she wanted to they would try. I promise you there is only one worse feeling than explaining to your mother that we've reached the end of the rope. With the little bit of her that was left she decided to try the chemo knowing the chances. Because life wasn't tough enough as is, we lost my grandma the weekend before her scheduled chemo session. My mom was so tough. She wanted to see my grandma off and pay respects and come with us the long, grueling, 4-hour drive to Massachusetts. I think in her heart of hearts she knew it was the last chance to see the whole family at once. We came back that Sunday and Sean took her to chemo on that Tuesday. She really loved Sean and had a special bond with him the entire time she lived with us. When they got home, everything seemed fine. She didn't seem to have any really bad side effects this time around and then Friday came. We called an ambulance and she spent the next two weeks in emergency rooms fighting off sepsis. She spent her last Birthday in the hospital. That's something I'll always hate. Over the two weeks she was in the hospital Sean and I talked and decided we were going to move back to Utica. We didn't know if she had years left, but either way we were willing to commute everyday so that she could be with her community again. She had so many friends from all over, many of which didn't know the gravity of the situation (which I think is why I feel the need to write all of this). When we told her, she tried to fight us, because once again she was looking out for me. She often told me she hated that she was a burden. To this day, I still feel like going through this whole year or so was an honor, but we aren't getting into that yet. When she was finally released, we brought her back to her home. Within an hour people were at our door waiting to see her. My mom was such a special person. We had her next appointment for chemo and as we were driving to Buffalo I could feel something in the Universe shift. I knew this was going to be our last visit. I knew what they were going to say. She was too weak for any treatment. She was angry at the news. She didn't want to stay for her remaining appointments, she just wanted to go home. I had to sit there and plan out Hospice and watch my mom's heart shatter. The ride home however was not as grim as I expected. My mom seemed like there was a weight lifted off of her suddenly and she was in good spirits. The next day we began Hospice and things seemed relatively calm. Last Friday my aunt called me at work, she was visiting my mom for the week, and said something changed. Things didn't seem right. I rushed home and she told me my mom was doing a little bit better than when she called, but my mom wouldn't eat. Saturday morning my mom got up by herself and walked a couple feet, but by the time the night came around she was barely responsive. Sunday my mom was in incredible pain and spoke maybe 3 words. By this time all my aunts were either there, flying in, or in the car driving. I went to get some groceries to make dinner and said I'd be right back. This was the last time my mom kissed me on the cheek. She could barely lift her head or pucker her lips. I came home 15 minutes later to my aunt in the kitchen. We talked for a bit and then I went over to my mom. The time had come, it was beginning. She stopped responding. She was breathing but wouldn't wake up. The next couple days and nights were spent by her bedside. I slept in a chair at night holding her hand. I left to go see the funeral director as we knew it was a matter of time and got the call that it was starting. I rushed home trying to make it in time, but when I walked through the door she was gone. Everyone believes she waited until I wouldn't see, protecting me yet again. I have something inside me that's pushing me to tell these hard parts of her story. She would want anyone to keep fighting. She would want them to not believe the first doctor and to get a second and third opinion. She would want her story to help someone else. My mom's faith through the entire journey was remarkable. She believed that god had a plan and that was why she forgave the original doctor. It's true she was curable at one point, but she said that if God wanted her to live she would. She didn't believe people were meant to be bitter even through all of her hardships. I remember asking her if she was afraid of dying and her concern was that I wasn't ready for her to leave. My mom is undeniably irreplaceable. She is the Queen B. She is the reason I cherish art. She is the reason why I do everything to support the music scene. She is the reason I try to find grace in all situations and only find the best in people. She is the reason I try to be selfless like her and why I will constantly fight to be a better person than the day I was before. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be half the woman she was. I just hope I make her proud. Her struggle is over and even in her passing she continues to teach me how to find strength. There's a void in my heavy heart that will never be filled. I love you forever lady. Thank you for everything, always. I hope that wherever you may be, there are NO peppers on your pizza.

#cancer restinpower mom

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jugxbets · 7 years

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Archie's Little Sister: Chapter Ten

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blueberrytictac · 4 years

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hey sorry i need a place to vent my shit

i hate looking back at my childhood and seeing a miserable chain of events that led to me having extreme anxiety and being terrified of upsetting anyone

my parents were so young when they had me and my older siblings. and between just working constantly to make sure they could feed us- and trying to live their own lives- i feel at times we had to fend for ourselves as children.

for YEARS i didn’t know ANYTHING about nutrition, or portion control, or health, or even basic adult functions. Being in pain from undiagnosed physical conditions and an obesity problem, because no one seemed to care to even try to help me?

I remember asking for help so many times. cutting myself to the point of blood dripping down my arms, and asking my parents if they loved me- shitty i know but i was fourteen

they cleaned me up and then needed to go back to their own lives. i never got mental health treatment

everyone just saw ‘sad and fat’ and never thought to ask WHY or try and help me shed weight beyond ‘eat a salad every once in awhile’

as if that cures and entire lifetime of LEARNED bad eating habits?? As if it would suddenly cure my horrific depression and anxiety?

everyone just wanted to say ‘just do some exercise’ as a solution to all of it. ‘kill yourself exercising and starve yourself and then you’ll lose weight and be happy. until you do that, you aren’t worth helping’

They laughed or got frustrated with my pain in TRYING to work out or work on myself. Of course my fucking knees hurt after 15 minutes of walking. My legs hyper-extended on every step, with an added 80lbs i shouldn’t have HAD. I didn’t know that. I felt so SHAMED that I SHOULD be able to keep up with my 125lbs sister, while i was literally twice her weight. I didn’t know why things hurt so incredibly bad.

i started retreating inward. my siblings didn’t want to associate with me at times. I could see the disappointment in them. Both tall, athletic and attractive. I was the odd one out, always. they didn’t want their friends to know I existed. felt embarrassed by my presence. they were ashamed of me

my parents used to scream at me for not doing more in the house

I was near 100lbs overweight and moving was not only exhausting- but with my joints actively trying to jump out of their sockets, some days just existing was agonizing.

i would wake up tired. i would sleep 10-15 hours and wake up exhausted.

pcos, eds, adhd, major anxiety, major depression

‘you don’t fuckin DO ANYTHING IN THIS HOUSE’

‘why are you tired you haven’t done anything today’

‘why are you stressed, you don’t work’

i believed them. i hated myself. i could never do enough. i was a failure. i still feel like this. my pain isn’t real. my stress isn’t real. my anxiety was just ‘over reacting’.

i was in so much pain, but was always brushed off. To the point where I started hiding my own pain. I felt shame in complaining. i felt shame in being in pain. i felt shame for asking for help

i went through 5 gallbladder attacks before finally going to the doctor. i had to plead to be taken, and my dad yelled at me before i got taken down.

i think he thought i was exaggerating.

i needed surgery that summer. i took it like a champ- i felt so validated that they finally had to see- i wasn’t making it up. for once they had PROOF they couldn’t ignore. things weren’t quite better yet- but thank god it led to at least a small change.

i wanted to die from middle school to 24

over half my life i on and off self harmed, i had no self esteem, and i felt i was unworthy of help, because i had been brushed off/yelled at/had someone annoyed with me for complaining, and i internalized it to the point where i didn’t feel like i deserved to live.

i didn’t feel like I was worth working on, cause i thought i’d be dead in ‘another few years anyways’. Either by my own hand, or by my health.

I was in so much pain, everyday

i had a plan on how to kill myself. i was going to take pills and drown myself at the ocean. I didn’t want someone i loved to find me

i didn’t want to hurt them

i just wanted to go out quietly

i couldn’t

i couldn’t for two reasons

the honest love for the people i cared about, and not wanting them to suffer a loss

and the mortification i pictured. Someone finding my body and making fun of it, when i was already dead. calling me a beached whale- when i had drown myself already for my self hatred.

i stayed alive

and still, through all of this, i hated any resentment i felt to my family

i knew they were sick- we all struggled with major depression or anxiety. a horrible chain reaction, from my parents suffering toxic work relationships, and bringing it home. taking it out on us, and us taking it out on each other

i hated how much i hated them at times. I knew they were suffering. I remember crying in relief when my sister moved out. We’d fought so consistently that her presence used to give me a twisted gut of anxiety.

she tried to use ‘tough love’ on me

she would tell me people would get sick of me

that they wouldn’t take care of me

that i was being a burden

i remember feeling some of the most extreme emotions, crying myself to sleep, afraid of my parents getting sick of me. She said these things cause she wanted to ‘motivate me to lose weight’

i wanted to die so badly that night. i didn’t want to be a burden. i thought about throwing myself off a cliff. there are so many around. it would have been easy.

the thought of someone laughing at my huge, mangled corpse kept me miserably alive. a running theme

i had tried to reach out to counselling a few times in my life

when i was 11, i talked to my elementary school counselor about how i felt alienated by my friends. how lonely and anxious i felt. She ignored what i said in its literal entirety. Went on to talk about how ‘when your parents take you out for fast food- why not get a salad instead?’ At 11 i was speechless. I just quietly agreed and never went back. I had never felt less heard and more shamed. I was there because I was struggling emotionally. Not because of my weight. but it was all she saw. and that was grounds to dismiss me. I had been bullied at my last school because of my weight. I felt the same shame and pain, after that conversation.

Part of me wishes I could find that woman now and slap her. I never wish violence on people, but she started an aversion to asking for help that sticks with me 15 years on

I can’t remember if I started cutting that next year, or if it was the one after that.

I was constantly sick with anxiety. there would be weeks where i felt like i couldn’t leave the house by shame and by the sheer pain in my stomach from anxiety. I was told to eat less sweets. the pain never stopped I would be constantly nauseous while at school. I dropped classes completely if i didn’t know anyone in them. I constantly started to skip, stay home if I could. I felt so miserable. I felt so sick. I would be yelled at for my grades. I would be yelled at for missing school. I would be yelled at for feeling sick.

I stopped talking to anyone about it, save for a handful of friends.

I would literally hide in our back yard, at 11, so i wouldn’t have to face school or my parents. I would spend 7 hours some days, if one of my parents was home sick, sitting out there. It was vastly preferred to spending another day at school. I remember living in fear of my parents cars. I lived in fear that because i stayed home- with all the fucking shit i was dealing with then, that I would get ‘caught’ hiding at home. And then I would be screamed at and shamed. They thought I was lazy. They thought I was faking. They thought I was a shameful, useless little lump. I started getting very good at hiding things. In high school- my counselor said “You have the most absences out of any of my students, did you know that?” She didn’t want to help me. She didn’t want to know why. She was shaming me.

I had a friend who was thin and struggling in the same way. Who’d been absent in the same way.

She was treated for it. People paid attention to her cries for help. I was shamed, and continued to barely attend. I tried to talk to her about my anxiety and she brushed me off. I had such bad insomnia

i had such bad pain

i was so sick

it was plain as day, and its one of the few things i’m mad about in my childhood. the one thing i do hold resentment for

I was expected to be able to ‘fix’ myself without having any fucking idea what was wrong with me.

I’ve lost the weight now, and you know what it took? Having a fucking healthy mind and home life.

turns out when i fuckin wanted live, i had reason to work on myself

turns out i was just left to my own devices on how to care for my body at fuckin NINE YEARS OLD, AND THEN WAS SHAMED FOR EATING LIKE A FUCKIN CHILD

MY PARENTS PASSED ON THEIR OWN FUCKIN DISORDERED EATING ON TO ME, AND THEN BLAMED ME FOR ‘NOT KNOWING BETTER’

I WAS A FUCKING CHILD

I WAS A FUCKING KID AND YOU NEVER THOUGHT THAT ‘huh, maybe our youngest cutting themself and wanting to die at 13 could mean that they need professional help’ I was a fucking kid who’s legs would literally randomly GIVE OUT when running, cause my knee or ankle would slip out of socket. No fucking wonder i hated exercise.

i got physio for my legs fucking deforming as a child- but no- can’t imagine that you could POSSIBLY follow that up by finding out WHY my legs where deforming.

once i stopped being able to play and run without getting hurt i just stopped fucking doing it. and started resenting it. and the pounds piled on. cause- again, nothing fuckin healthier that just letting your actual child decide what they want to eat. and then i would get hurt worse, the next time i tried to exercise. i was expected to keep up with people literally half my weight and was fucking SHAMED IF I COULDN’T

anyway, i think what i am trying to say is Childhood obesity is a fuckin problem, but its not the fucking KID’S FAULT if your reaction to ‘counselling’ an overweight child is to make THEM make the adult decisions on how they’re being fed, instead of talking to their fuckin parents, then, I’m sorry

but you lack fatal critical thinking.

also for the love of god, if your child is literally crying most days of the week because they’re afraid to go to school - or if they’re hiding in their room and flinching every time you come home. then for the love of god think that something MIGHT BE WRONG!

I still have so much to say, and vent, and work on, but it felt good just dumping out word vomit. I am such a better place now,- once I started looking back, I couldn’t believe how fucked up things were growing up. And how frustrating it is to look back, and know i was left broken and traumatized just because of how people saw my weight. I didn’t even care what I looked like! But it was the shaming, and disgust and occasional vile treatment from others that destroyed me emotionally.

I felt like if someone had just helped me- talked to me like a person, and helped me sort out my home life- that so much of that suffering could have been avoided.

i also can’t leave this off, without saying that I fucking LOVE my parents. That I love my family- even thought so much of my trauma came from our home life. This is only a show of the worst of it- and not going into what each of them were dealing with themselves at the time. As much as my parents might have left me struggling with an intense lack of worth- they also never did stop supporting and loving me. They CRIED when they realized that I hadn’t been exaggerating my pain, when I needed surgery. And have taken my physical pain seriously since then. Recently too, I have been reconnecting and getting closer again with my siblings. My relationship with my bro was consistently good, but oh man my relationship with my sister was a painful mess. two way toxicity, but by god we have been working on it in the last few years. I love her literally so fucking much- its hard to look back at our fights now, without crying

uh anyway

yeah thats my whole weight/mental health/family trauma

i just wanted to write it down and get it out of my head and just process some of it remember why i started getting anxiety attacks from my parents being in bad moods- and not let myself spiral because someone’s tone was a bit hostile.

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