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johnsamericano · 3 years

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𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥

Hi everyone! As promised, here’s one of the two most voted fic continuations. There will be more chapters to this story though I'm not sure how many yet. Thank you for reading!

warnings: sugar daddy jae, mentions of injuries and hospitals, language.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv

Sugar rush m.list.

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

Where did everything go wrong?

Your string of thoughts was cut off by a call from your aunt.

“Hello?” Your voice was raspy from not using it. There was no one to talk to in the quiet, hospital room but the nurses, who weren't especially keen on chatting.

“How’s your dad, sweetie?”

“They let him out of ICU, but he doesn't look good to me.” Your fingers traced the cuts in his chiseled cheeks that would soon turn into scars, ruining his perfect skin. Your eyes then diverted to his head, thoroughly covered in bandages to protect his damaged skull.

“Honey, I've got bad news...”

“They rejected the case, didn't they?”

“Not precisely.” She deeply inhaled before continuing. “It’s a tough case, almost impossible to win, nonetheless, they're willing to take it. But their fee is a little...”

“Expensive.”

“Yes.”

As expected from the best firm in town, they wouldn't take less than $8,000. Your bank account didn't have enough money to even cover half of it, and with your job at the convenience store, you'd only earn so much to cover your expenses.

“We can take the lawyer that the government provides us with, it would be free.”

“But then I'm sure we’d lose.” You groaned in frustration, using your free hand to rub your forehead. “Don’t worry, I'll find a way to get the money.”

“Why don't we just accept the compensation they're offering? It could pay for the hospital bills and you'd still have some left to pay for your tuition.”

“That would be like putting a price on my father's life. I don't want their money, I want them to make themselves responsible for what they've caused.” The sound of wheels approached the door of your father's room, signaling the nurse was outside with his meds. “It’s okay, Auntie, I'll take care of everything. You can go back home, I know my uncle isn't doing so well.”

“Are you sure, darling?” It was undeniable that she wanted to head back to her little ranch fat away from the hectic city life to take care of her sick husband, but still, her brother was laying down on a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

“Yes, I'm an adult, I'll find a way.”

“Take care of yourself, and don't hesitate to call me if you're having any difficulties. I'll be there in the blink of an eye.” She said before sending a kiss into the speaker, proceeding to hang up.

You sighed. It was never usual for you to ask for help, as you were an extremely prideful and independent person, and you doubted this time would be different.

“Don’t worry, dad. Everything will be alright.”

Three failed job interviews and one more to go. Your feet were killing you, the high heels covering them already worn out from walking to avoid taking the bus. Every penny counted, and as long as your legs worked, you weren't spending any more money than what was necessary.

You sat down in the waiting room of the company, massaging your neck to relieve some tension. College was becoming a burden. Maybe you'd take a semester off to focus on working, that is if someone wanted to hire an inexperienced student.

“Y/n, Y/l/n?”

“Here.” You darted up, gathering your belongings to enter the room on which your life almost literally depended.

You gave all the right answers, earning a polite ‘we’ll contact you’ in return. But you could see that they weren't convinced with your lack of experience, no company in their right mind would be.

As soon as you arrived at your apartment, you slid out of the uncomfortable pencil skirt, tucking yourself under the covers with your phone screen almost hitting your nose.

To take your mind off things, you decided to watch some videos. Halfway in, an ad popped up, interrupting the interior deco video you were watching.

A picture of a girl about your age hugging an older man was right in the middle of your screen. Written with fancy letters, the words ‘make your life simpler’ could be read, followed by what you guessed was the title of the app. Sugar rush.

Out of pure curiosity, your finger tapped at the small icon that led to the app store, absentmindedly clicking the download button. A few seconds later, an icon with the letters ‘SR’ was added to your home screen.

“Log in?” You murmured out loud, squinting your eyes to adjust your eyes to the bright, white homepage.

Just as you were about to click out, the phrase from the ad reappeared, stopping your finger from moving any further.

You could always delete your account if something went wrong, right? Nonetheless, you decided to use a false name, and that's how Melanie Kim’s profile was created. You left the circle of your profile picture empty for now, only filling the spaces that asked about your likes, dislikes, age, and all that stuff that people care about so much.

You knew what the app was for, but that didn't stop you from being surprised when a list of men and women of different ages greeted you. Right then, a small rectangle obstructed your sight, two buttons offering opposite things.

‘Pick the role you'd like to develop.’

Sugar daddy/mommy / Sugar baby.

Clearly, you didn’t have nor the money or the years to be the first, so you clicked the opposite button without giving it more thought.

‘Welcome. You've been registered as a sugar baby at Sugar rush. Meet thousands of men and women willing to finance you for free!’

You hummed.

‘As we're always looking to make our users’ experience better, we've developed Sugar Rush premium, a membership to meet the richest and hottest people in your surroundings. Get the premium version for only $5.95 a month. Click here to get Sugar Rush premium.’

Your finger pad was dangerously close to the blue button, almost grazing the screen of the phone. It was then when you were pulled out of your trance, blinking as if just then you'd realized what you were doing.

“I must be crazy.” You turned off your phone, not bothering to turn on an alarm for the next day. You had no interviews left. You had nowhere to go.

Waking up was getting harder with every passing day. Not being able to call your dad to go out for breakfast or even sending a simple good morning message hurt you deeply. You missed him. But seeing him laying down on a hospital bed, unable to do anything by himself, was even worse.

Ding

A notification filled the silence in your room.

‘Come back, you haven't finished setting up your account yet!’

You scoffed at your past self. What were you even thinking when you downloaded the app?

You simply turned off the phone before standing up to take a relaxing shower. As the water soaked up your tense body, your mind started wandering off back to the app. A million what-ifs filled your head, nonetheless, there was one that remained the most persistent.

‘What if this can pay for a lawyer?’

Your part-time job surely couldn't, and you had no one to assist you financially speaking. The whole idea of paying that ridiculous membership seemed more tempting as your fingers started getting wrinkly under the showerhead.

You decided to take some time to consider it, after all, you still had a week to give the lawyers an answer.

Hot soup seemed like a good option to comfort you, and thankfully, there was a store right in front of your place that claimed to sell the best soups in town.

It wasn't bad, but not nearly as good as the one your dad cooked when you were a kid. You sighed, wondering if you'd ever be able to eat it again. Just then, a woman about your age came into the shop, carrying a couple of bags where names of popular brands could be read. A pinch of jealousy made your heart stir as you glanced at yourself through the reflection in the glass at your side. You looked devastated, your skin pale and your cheekbones slightly sunken, a sign of the lack of rest and food you'd been getting.

Out of pure impulse, you pulled out your phone, clicked on the app you'd recently downloaded, and finally accepted the charges for a premium membership.

‘Welcome, new member of our wide community, click ok to get started!’

Well, no turning back now.

Right after pressing the blue letters with your thumb, you were presented with a list of potential prospects, some of them including pictures, some of them only including name and a brief description of what they were looking for. The minority included their ages, but most left the space blank.

A bunch of old men looking for a youthful, pretty woman to be by their sides, some of them even went as far as writing the weight and height their ideal partner should have. Of course, there were also some women in the look for young meat, but the number of men overpassed them.

About to exit the app in defeat, a profile caught your eye. His pale pink hair was parted, allowing his thick eyebrows to stand out. His high cheekbones made him look like a statue, the details in his face almost too perfect for a mere human. He must be the incarnation of a Greek God, you thought.

‘Jung Yoonoh. 41 years old. Owner of N & C.’

“Should I...?” You asked yourself in a voice lower than a whisper.

He has probably gotten hundreds of messages, so what would be the point of sending one yourself? Your eyes scanned the picture over and over again as the remains of your soup started getting cold.

He was probably the only acceptable man in the whole app, so why not give it a try?

You already spent five whole dollars on it, might as well make it worth the money.

‘Hi.’ Sent.

“Holy crap.” You breathed out, regretting every single action that led you to take such a stupid decision. “Ah!” You squeaked as three small dots appeared beside his profile picture, signaling he was writing a reply.

What if he rejected you right from the beginning? God, that would be so humiliating. His message stopped your train of thought.

‘Hi!’

Followed by:

‘How are you?’

Sweating like a pig, thank you for asking.

‘Fine. You?’ Read.

‘Thrilled. No one had messaged me since I created my account two weeks ago.’

‘How is that possible?’ You imprinted your thoughts on a message.

‘It’s hard to trust people nowadays. I guess people might think either my picture is photoshopped or I'm lying about my job.’

‘Their loss, ig.’ Read.

He was taking some time to answer. Had you said something inappropriate?

‘Hahaha.’

The conversation stopped there, as you didn't know how exactly to answer his message. But a few minutes later, another text from him popped up at your chat.

‘If you're okay with it, we can start talking about a possible arrangement.’

Already? You've known each other for like five minutes. But then again, arrangements were the whole purpose of the app.

‘Sure.’

‘May I ask your reasons for joining the app?’

‘I need urgent money, but my job doesn't pay nearly enough.’ You omitted the part of your agonizing father, he didn't need to know that. ‘And you?’

‘I need someone to be my partner at public spaces.’

‘Alright.’ Read.

‘Do you happen to have some free time tomorrow at lunchtime? I think it’d be better to meet first before making any decisions.’

‘Yeah, I'm free.’

‘Great, I’ll send you the address.’

You thought a day would be enough to prepare yourself, but time passed by quicker than usual, and soon enough, it was time to get ready for your meeting with Mr. Jung. He was only a few years younger than your father, and calling him by his first name wouldn't feel right.

Unsure if you should wear something formal, you threw on a beige (the color you'd agreed on wearing so it’d be easier to recognize each other) summer dress, pairing it with the gold hoops you'd inherited from your grandma to make it look more elegant.

The hardest part of your routine was makeup. Your sunken cheeks couldn't be covered, and only after a few layers of blush and highlighter, you could bring your skin back to life.

On your way to the cafe, you went through the things you'd say when you met him. It was your chance to get your father what he needed.

You stood at the entrance with wide, scared eyes, shyly scanning through the place to look for your date.

“Melanie?” A hand on your shoulder had you jolting. “I’m Jung Yoonoh, nice to meet you.”

What you saw after turning around was breathtaking. A handsome, healthy man, with the most beautiful pair of dimples.

“Nice to meet you.” You managed to blurt out without stuttering, extending your hand to make the greeting more formal. The fake name didn’t seem necessary anymore. “It’s actually y/n, I didn't want to use my real name.”

“I understand. Let’s take a seat.” He offered with a kind smile.

He left you seating at the terrace while he made your order, a latte, and a chocolate cookie. Your fingers played with your hoops anxiously, trying to regulate your breath.

“They’ll bring our food in just a sec.” He offered a warm smile. “Your dress is pretty.” Yoonoh said out of nowhere.

“Thank you.”

“I see you're not a chatty person.” You were about to object, but he started speaking again. “It's not a bad thing! I usually talk a lot, so it’s a nice way to balance things.”

You nodded, seemingly uncomfortable with the man sitting in front of you.

“So, uhm, this is my first time doing this, so I'm not really sure where to begin.” He pulled out a folded paper from the front pocket of his dressing pants. “It’s a bit creased, but I can always print another one. I brought it so you could take a look and let me know if you wanted to change anything. I don't mean to pressure you, but you said it was urgent, so...”

You read the paper under his attentive gaze, making sure not to miss a single word. Everything seemed correct, except...

“Six months?”

“Is that too much?” A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, a sign of deep concentration. “Okay, so let's do this instead.”

He took back the contract, pulling out a pen from the pocket in his dressing shirt to correct the original stipulations.

“Four months, and if by the end of them you don't absolutely hate me, we can extend the time. Deal?”

“Just one more thing.”

You cleared your throat, conscious that your following words might jeopardize the whole arrangement.

“Are you sure you want to make it official already?” You had to stop for a moment as the waiter left your orders on top of the wooden table. “I mean, it's not that I have a problem with it, but it's your money and maybe you'd like to give it a better thought.” You resumed.

“The fact that you're concerned about me proves I'm making the right choice. Now, tell me, how much would you like to receive as a weekly allowance?”

Would it be too reckless to ask him straight up for the $8,000?

“H-how much are you willing to give me?” You felt dirty, accepting a stranger’s money like that.

“Whatever you need.” His hand suddenly reached forward to yours, causing every ounce of blood in your body to rush to your face. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, I'm here to help you.” His voice tone dropped, acquiring an almost soothing feeling.

“I need eight thousand by Thursday, next week.” His eyes were wide open, mouth having difficulties remaining closed. “I-I know it's too much, but...”

“I can find a way to give you that money, but I'd like to know the reason why you need it. Just to make sure it's nothing illegal.”

You puffed your cheeks, trying to find an excuse good enough to justify the amount of money you were asking for.

“It isn’t illegal, is it?”

“No!” You retrieved your hand from below his, now embarrassed at the possibility of him having a bad image of you. “I need it for my father.”

“I suppose you don't want to talk about it.” He started at his palm, lips pressed in a thin life. “But when it comes to arrangements like this, we need to trust each other, alright?” You barely knew each other, yet, he demanded to know a very personal detail of your life. Not that he didn't have a good reason for wanting to know, it wasn't a particularly small amount of money.

“He had an accident at work...” You started, fearful of looking up to find pity in his eyes. “I need a lawyer to make his company legally responsible. They intend to throw it under the rug and pay a somewhat decent amount of money to make it go away. The firm I intend to hire is supposedly the best in town, probably my only chance of getting justice.”

“And why don't you just accept it? There's no guarantee that your lawyer will win the case.” You fisted the delicate fabric of your dress, eyes watering as you tried to hold back your anger.

“My father’s life is priceless, and if you think what I'm doing is a waste of money, then fine, we can both look for someone else to help us.” It sounded more aggressive than you'd first intended, but you meant every word that came out of your mouth.

Before you could even stand up, his slim fingers had already wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“I never said that.” He whispered with an almost sad tone. “Come on, sit down.”

He tugged at your arm the slightest, showing off his charming dimples once again.

“I’ll give you the money on one condition...” He raised one of his thick eyebrows. “I’ll go with you to see the lawyer.”

“Why...?”

“That’s my condition, take it or leave it.”

“Okay.”

The days before your meeting with your potential lawyer were nerve-wracking. You'd seen Yoonoh another time to sign the contract, which finally made your arrangement official.

You’d visit your father every day, always hoping he'd be sitting with his arms wide open, ready to hug you. But nothing had changed ever since he first came into that room.

“I’m here to see Mr. Kim.” The secretary's gaze lingered on Jaehyun a few seconds before he finally snapped out of it. “Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Just a second.” He opened his agenda and quickly found your appointment. With a warm smile, he guided you through the corridors of the building, all the way to the elevator. “It’s the only office on the last floor, I'll be at my desk if you need anything.”

Once again, he shot Jae an uneasy glance before the metal doors slid close.

“What was all that?” To be honest, you couldn't care less. But a small chat might calm your nerves and prevent you from throwing up all over the place.

“What do you mean?” He grinned, pressing the button to the top floor.

“You know what I mean.” You scoffed, annoyed at his evasive behavior.

“We just happen to know each other, nothing special.” Before the conversation could continue, a loud ding resonated through the metal cubicle. “Let’s go.” His hand found its place at the small of your back, pushing you towards the glass door. Through it, you could see a black-haired man reading a pile of documents, occasionally raising a photo to examine it with his gold-rimmed glasses supported at the bridge of his elegant nose.

Jaehyun extended his arm over your shoulder to knock on the door, earning an almost annoyed ‘come in’ from the man inside.

“Let’s go.” Once again invading your personal space, he reached for the doorknob with you trapped between his arms.

As soon as the door opened, the man raised his eyes from the documents he was checking.

“What are you doing here, Jung?”

“I knew something was off...” You murmured, loud enough for the man at your side to chuckle.

“I brought you a client, you should be happy.”

“Miss y/n, I suppose. Have a seat.” His demeanor completely changed while speaking directly to you. “I spoke with your aunt last week, she explained the details of the lawsuit, but I must say, it isn't an easy case.”

“I know that, but I've been told you're the best firm in town, I know I'll have more possibilities of winning if you're my lawyer.”

“Best firm in town my ass.”

“Be silent or I’ll kick you out of the building.”

That was enough for Yoonoh to zip his mouth. For a while at least.

“I suppose she also told you about our fee.” He pushed his glasses up using his thumb. “We’d also keep 25% of the lawsuit money assuming we win the case, is that okay with you?”

“Yes-”

“Okay, stop.”

“I’ll call security, Jung.”

“Look at me, y/n.” He squeezed your arms. “This clown is trying to scam you...” He pointed his finger at the lawyer without breaking eye contact. “You’d be spending loads of money for someone who isn't even confident in his abilities. It isn't worth it.”

“And I suppose you'd do better than me, then.” The black-haired man scoffed. “If that's the case, then you can both leave. I'm quite busy at the moment.” With a turn of his wrist, he signaled you to leave the room.

You were fuming, stomping out of the building with Jaehyun right behind you.

“I found a great restaurant nearby, we can go there and-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you just fucked up my only chance to give those bastards what they deserve.” The sun was starting to set, yellow light casting shadows over his tender cheeks.

“Can you listen to me for a second?”

“Are you laughing right now?” You bit your lip, hard, trying to hold back the tsunami of tears threatening to come out of your eyes. “Asshole.”

“Ouch.” He furrowed his eyebrows mockingly. Oh, how close you were to punch that pretty face of his. “Can I explain now?”

You remained silent, staring at the ground with the smallest frown between your eyebrows.

“How do you think I know Kim Doyoung?” Before even giving you a chance to answer, he continued. “That son of a bitch has been stealing my clients for ages.”

“Your clients...?”

“He isn't even that good of a lawyer compared to me.” He scoffed with fake arrogance.

“You're a lawyer?!” You slammed your palms into your face, whining at the newly acquired information. “Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?”

“Just wanted to swing by and annoy him a bit. Don't worry, I wasn't gonna let you accept his deal.” He winked playfully.

The sun was now hidden, the sky darkening as the moon rose to take its shift.

“Though I gotta say, I'm kinda offended I wasn't even an option. I'm a pretty great lawyer, you know?”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you if you join me for dinner. What do you say?”

As you walked into the darkness of the streets, his shoulder occasionally bumping yours, you wondered if meeting him was a casualty. Maybe the world was finally smiling at you.

#nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct jaehyun

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jinjojess · 4 years

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DR Kirigiri Vol. 5 Summary Part XI

It is finally time to start chipping away at Chapter 2 of DR Kirigiri Vol. 5!

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

Chapter 2 Not-So-Daily Life*

(*or “Deadly Life” if you want to be consistent with the localized games)

This chapter starts with Samidare returning to her room at the dorms in the early morning hours, as has become custom as of late. Since classes have started for the day, there’s no one around, making the entire area feel creepy and surreal.

I rushed to my room, seeking its life-saving comfort, and threw open the door.

But…Kirigiri wasn’t there.

I had expected that she of all people would have already solved her mystery, and I’d find her curled up in my bed, but instead I found nothing in the futon. It wasn’t even warm, hinting that she hadn’t returned yet.

I collapsed into bed and passed out. It was a dreamless, death-like sleep.

I woke up to the sound of a bell, shooting up in bed and looking around to assess my surroundings.

Looking around, soaked in sweat and suffering chills, I realized I wasn’t at the site of a bizarre murder, or trapped within a creepy building. It was just my room.

Whew.

I’d been able to come home safely. Even as my head pounded from the drop in my blood pressure, the sense that this was real finally began to wash over me.

I looked at the clock to find that it was already noon. The bell I’d heard was the school bell signaling we were halfway through the day.

Next, I checked my phone; this was the set time we’d agreed upon to check in. I was supposed to hear from Yaki at twelve sharp, followed by Yadorigi fifteen minutes later, then Mizuiyama, and finally Kirigiri.

Even though it was five past noon, though, I didn’t get a call from Yaki.

Without bothering to tame my bedhead, I trudged to the dorm’s cafeteria and switched on the TV there. A news report announced Yaki’s death, on the corner of a shuttered up shopping street.

So he was killed…

Though he hadn’t been the most approachable type, he had been a good person, and very cooperative.

If we hadn’t asked him to help us with the investigations, he’d probably still be alive. No matter how you sliced it, his blood was on my hands. I might as well have killed him myself. Me. I killed him. I…

I hid my face in my hands in the empty cafeteria, hiding in the darkness behind my eyelids.

This was the path I had chosen.

The one Kirigiri had been walking all this time.

No matter how hard I worked to protect people, in the end, I couldn’t save everyone’s lives. No matter what, I had to make choices about who to save and who to let go.

Though, maybe if I’d been talented enough, I could have saved him.

Please, just let me save more people…

At that moment, my phone buzzed in my hand. I didn’t recognize the number.

“…Hello?”

“Is this Samidare Yui-san? This is Tooakitsu Nazuna.”

“Ah!” I was so happy to hear a familiar voice that I looked up without thinking. “Naz-chan! What’s up? How did you get this number?”

“Detective Yadorigi asked me to call you at exactly 12:15. You had an agreement about checking in, yes?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean… Man, how dependable.”

After the whole ordeal, Nazuna, Tsukiyo, and Yadorigi all went to the hospital in the ambulance. They recommended I come along too, but I just wanted to get home as soon as possible and regain some sense of normalcy.

“Yadorigi-san is currently in the ICU. He was conscious on the way to the hospital, but given that he sustained a head injury, you never know how things may go.”

“Yeah… Naz-chan, are you and Tsukiyo okay?”

“There’s nothing wrong with us. Tsukiyo-san is sleeping right here beside me.”

“That’s good to hear…”

“Also, I have a message for you from Yadorigi-san.”

Nazuna told me the details of the Kareobana Academy case. Since I hadn’t actually been a part of it myself, the whole thing sounded outrageous.

“Thanks, that means we’ve solved at least one of the cases so far. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank Yadorigi-san.”

Without him, we’d have been trapped in the Libra Girls’ Academy forever, and the case would have gone unsolved. On top of that, he even solved the Kareobana Academy case too. No wonder–Rank 2 detectives were on a whole other level.

Perhaps best of all, he hadn’t betrayed us in the end. Though even without the whole Mizuiyama thing, I was so happy that someone as attentive and skilled as him was helping us that I could have cried.

“By the way, what happened to the Mystery Club? It looked like they came with you to the hospital…”

“After making sure Yadorigi-san was okay, they headed to the police station. Apparently they went to let them know what happened during the case.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’ll leave that part of it to them, then. Sounds like they’ve got it.”

“Indeed. Oh, also, Yadorigi-san said one last thing. ‘It may be inevitable that I need to retreat from the front lines, but I have no intention of giving up. I need to fight for her sake.’”

“Her sake?”

There was only one person he could mean.

So, she really had been that important to him. I felt like I could more or less tell why he’d decided to help us. Perhaps it was simply by chance that he was on our side.

After the message, Naz talks about how cool Samidare was, and how even though she’s a high school student like her and Tsukiyo, she seemed so much older and wiser. Samidare protests, claiming that she didn’t do much of anything, and asks if she’s calling her an old lady, to which Naz says no, and she shouldn’t be so modest. The way she was ready to protect them no matter what was really impressive, and she thinks that being a detective is a really noble profession.

In fact, she asks Samidare if she too could become a detective someday, and in the process of answering that hell yeah, she’s got the stuff, Samidare remembers that there’s some significant drawbacks to the life.

She remembers what Mizuiyama asked her earlier:

“But who saves the heroes who save so many others?”

Her words echoed in the back of my brain.

Who did save detectives when they were hurt or in trouble?

“Samidare Yui-san. When this is all over, can we meet up again?” Nazuna asked.

“Sure, of course. Hey, when summer comes, let’s all go to the beach.”

“That sounds great. I’ll have to lose some weight before then.”

And with that promise for sometime in the unknown future, we hung up.

It was 12:30.

It was time for Mizuiyama to check in, but given that she was currently under arrest, that probably wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as I thought that, my phone rang.

Worried, I pressed the button to accept the call.

“Hello…?”

“You know there is no need to be that frightened of me, right?”

It was Mizuiyama.

Dun Dun DUUUUUUUN!

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

#DR Kirigiri #DRK5 #DRK5 summary #translation #Samidare Yui #long post

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mosylufanfic · 4 years

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You’ve Got Mail

This is for the second day of Killervibe week, the Meet Cute theme! Based on something that happened to a Facebook connection of mine, although as far as I know it didn’t turn out this cute.

You’ve Got Mail

The first note was stuck to Caitlin’s door with a piece of scotch tape. She frowned and unfolded it, wondering if the new neighbor already had a problem with her erratic hours.

Hi! (read the computer-printed note)

I just moved into 202 and wanted to introduce myself to all my neighbors. I'm Cisco Ramon and I'm starting my Masters' in electrical engineering at the university. Normally I'd knock and say hi but this whole quarantine thing kinda keeps me from doing that. :(

I speak English and Spanish and a little bit of Klingon. I cook sometimes but mostly get too much takeout so any good restaurant recommendations are welcome! I like tinkering and video games and SF/F books and movies and shows, like you couldn't tell from the Klingon. I have a cat named Buttercup who is a giant butt and I love him. If you see him outside, I’d really appreciate it if you called or texted because he's not an outdoor kitty.

He'd added a picture of the cat, staring menacingly at the camera as if promising that anyone who tried to pet him would lose a finger. Caitlin smiled in spite of herself.

Hope you have a great day! Cisco Ramon, Apt 202

He'd also added his phone number.

Caitlin read it through a couple of times before looking across the courtyard and up a floor at 202. It being 11:30 at night, the door was shut tight. There was a muted bluish flicker in one of the windows, like he was watching TV. It would be rude to knock on his door at this time of night.

Also, they were all practicing social distancing right now.

Caitlin was a champ at social distancing. She could social-distance on Olympic levels.

She went into her apartment, shutting the door behind her.

***

On her way to the hospital the next morning, she left a plastic container full of cookies on the mat of 202. There was a note carefully taped to the top.

Thank you for your nice note. Here are some cookies to welcome you to the building. They're chocolate chip. If you can't eat them, it's okay to throw them away. I've been baking a lot in quarantine.

She was halfway to the hospital when she realized she hadn't put her name or apartment number on the note. So for all Cisco Ramon knew, some anonymous benefactor had dropped cookies on his doorstep.

She sighed. She really was bad at this, just like Jay had said.

***

There was another note on her door when she got back home, this one hand-written in a sprawling, jagged scrawl.

Hello Cookie Queen!

I hope I'm not creeping you out or anything. I saw you through the window, leaving the cookies this morning, but I didn't want to freak you out by opening up the door right away.

They were delicious. I will happily eat any baked goods that you want to get rid of. That's not a beg, by the way. I can make my own cookies, once I find a good grocery store. (Any recommendations?) Just if you're the kind of person who likes to make entire batches and then has to eat them for the next three weeks, I can help with that. I don't have any allergies or anything.

Anyway I think I've weirded you out enough for one note.

Cisco

***

Hi Cisco

My name is Caitlin Snow and you already know my apartment number. The grocery store I like is the Safeway at the corner of Livingston and Bellmore because they are very firm about masks and disinfecting right now, much better than the Kroger. Also closer. There's a Taco Galaxy across the street from them that delivers until midnight and I like their chicken taco salad.

She stared at the note for a few minutes, then wondered if he would think she was saying a Mexican place because he was clearly Latino. She crossed out and substituted The Golden Wok on Bellmore delivers, and they do a good sweet and sour chicken.

I am a first-year resident so my hours are kind of strange but please let me know if I can ever help out with anything.

Caitlin, Apt 106

She chewed her lip for a moment, then added to the last paragraph before the sign-off, I wasn't weirded out.

Then she wrote it out in pen on a clean sheet of paper and found another plastic container to fill with butterscotch oatmeal cookies.

***

Hi Caitlin!

Nice to have a name and stop calling you Cookie Queen. Unless you want me to continue calling you Cookie Queen, that's okay too. Thank you for the second batch! Just as delish.

I took your tip about the grocery store and stocked up. Also got green pepper beef at the Golden Wok. Nom, nom, nom! Any ruling on the Taco Galaxy across from Safeway?

I'm major impressed with the residency thing btw. Are you doing okay? Is your ICU totally packed? I have a sewing machine because I do cosplay but obvi no cons right now, so I've been making masks and stuff too. Do you need any?

Cisco

***

Cisco,

We're doing okay right now. I'm not treating many COVID cases personally because I'm in my first year, but everybody is doing more than they would have normally. If you have extra cloth masks, I know some shelters and the local food bank are distributing them.

I like the chicken taco salad at Taco Galaxy.

She paused, studying the note. She wanted to continue this conversation. She liked him - his warmth and his humor. Maybe she should start texting him. She had his phone number, after all. Or would that be weird?

She wrote down, Where did you move from?

Caitlin

***

They traded notes back and forth, at least once a day but more often twice. Their correspondence ranged from the mundane - he'd moved from Coast City, she had come here from Gotham - to the personal - neither of them had very good relationships with their families - to the downright philosophical.

I dunno, he wrote one rainy day, I feel like the people who say this is God's punishment or whatever are totally getting God wrong. Like I don't believe in God anymore but if I still did, I don't think I'd believe in that kind of God.

A virus is a virus, she wrote back. There's debate about whether a virus really counts as alive or not, but it's just doing what all life does. The pandemic is definitely down to human hubris and selfishness and shortsightedness. No need for divine punishment. And I don't believe in that kind of God either.

At work, she would mentally compose parts of her next letter during her rare free moments, and every time something funny or strange or horrible happened at the hospital, she found herself telling him about it. No names, of course, because of HIPAA, but writing them down helped her work them out.

The day he mentioned his most recent ex, she caught her breath, a strange flutter in her stomach.

She did a number on me, I'm telling you. It's weird because I do think she liked me, maybe as much as I liked her. It's just she was in some bad stuff with her brother, and she wasn't really interested in getting out. When I realized that she was using me to help him out, I was done. Probably way after I should've been, but that was the last straw. I'm not saying that breakup was why I picked CCU for grad school and moved here two months early but I'm not NOT saying that.

She lay on her couch reading the note over again. His tone was cheerful, as it usually was, but she could almost feel the regret and self-recrimination behind it.

Also, did this mean he was single? He hadn't wrapped it up with any other mention of someone else he was dating now.

I know what that's like, she wrote back. My most recent ex was -

She lifted her pen and stared at the paper. How to describe Jay?

My breakup with my ex was pretty bad too. You just start to doubt everything that you ever thought or felt. Like, is this real or is this another time bomb he put in your head?

God RIGHT he wrote back. The good exes leave nice little presents for you in your head. You think of them because you see a movie they liked or something they used to wear and it just makes you smile. But the bad ones leave freaking land mines and time bombs.

***

More than once, she arrived home to find a bag of takeout or a tupperware full of some recipe he'd tried out. His tastes were a little more adventurous than hers, but she willingly ate whatever he left. Knowing somebody was thinking about her was as nourishing as the meal.

And some of it was really good.

She kept baking, leaving cookies and bread and other treats at his doorstep. Sometimes she experimented, too.

One day as the first leaves were turning, she left a jar with a note taped to the top. I decided to try something. Let me know if Buttercup likes these.

She got a reply within hours.

Buttercup would like to formally request to move into your apartment now, because I'm a terrible kitty papa and never thought of making him treats. Also I'm very cruel because I won't let him eat the entire jar no matter how much he yells. You are a genius.

She laughed and wrote back, Obviously you're an excellent kitty papa because you love Buttercup very much. It was a pretty simple recipe. I'll attach it for you so you can make your own. I'm glad he likes them.

She didn't see a reply on her door that night. This wasn't unprecedented, though it was unusual, and she found herself cycling through a few anxious loops of what-if - what if he was sick? what if he had nothing more to say to her? what if it had been just too weird for her to make treats for his cat? what if he was talking to someone else now?

But the next day when she went out to get her mail, she found a note tucked into her screen door. She grabbed it and opened it up.

Hey I realize this is kind of a weird question since we've been passing notes all this time, but would you be okay with texting? Or FaceTiming or WhatsApp or something? I don't know if you kept my number but here it is again anyway.

She read the short note through a couple of times, trying to identify the feeling bubbling up in her stomach.

She did like writing the letters. There was something so calming and old-fashioned about sitting down with paper and pen and writing everything out that was on her mind. And getting a letter back felt like a present.

But on the other hand, this felt like a step toward something . . . new. Something more. Closer.

She looked up at 202. A curtain twitched, and she caught her breath. Cisco leaned against the glass, spotted her, and lifted his hand in a wave.

She waved back.

She'd seen him a couple of times, leaving something at her door or going to grab his mail. She liked his face and his smile, what she'd seen of them.

He saw the note in her hand. That much was obvious. Even from here, he looked a little nervous. Or maybe that was her, projecting.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped in his number. He looked away from the window, reached out to grab something, and lifted his phone to his ear.

"Hi," she said shyly. "It's Caitlin."

His smile spread over his face, big enough to bathe her in warmth from one floor and a whole courtyard away. "Hi, Caitlin," he said. "Cisco here."

She smiled back. "So. How's your day going?"

It would be a long time before they actually got to meet in person, without a mask. But she was looking forward to it.

FINIS

#Caitlin Snow #Cisco Ramon #killervibe #killervibeweek20 #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #current events #neighbors AU #quarantine AU #fluffy fluff #the flash

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heartbreakgrill · 4 years

Text

ER: Room 6; Calum Hood/Michael Clifford (?) Pt. 1

description: in which you’re on the night shift, covering for a nurse in the ER, when a patient and his band is admitted into your room.

a/n: this is the intro to a new series! Should your love interest be Cal or Mike? Let me know!

The computer chair emitted annoyingly consistive squeaks, the gears grinding as you rocked back and forth. The squeaking was accompanied by the clicking of the mouse as you dragged cards across the computer screen. You gnawed on your bottom lip, pupils dilated from the bright light of the computer screen. It was a relatively quiet night in the ICU, only half a dozen or so of patients sleeping soundly across the third floor. You were wrapped up in a too-large zip-up jacket, the hospital-provided blue scrubs not-so flattering on your figure. A patient had vomited on you earlier, then you vomited on yourself while running for the bathroom. It had only been halfway through your 24-hour shift, and you couldn’t go all the way across the city for a new set of scrubs.

Oh, and, the only available size for the scrubs was a men’s large. The strings were tied as tight as possible, pant legs rolled up. With this outfit and the amount of fly-always surrounding your face, you looked like a hot mess. You were covering for a friend who was sick, and your 12 hour shift turned into this 24 hour one. It was hour 8, and you were becoming increasingly bored. You and two other nurses were working the night shift, along with 2 doctors who circulated between here and the ER. All had been calm, though.

You continued to play solitaire, occasionally sipping at your hot tea, chowing down a granola bar. But, with the ding of the elevator, your boss and chief resident of the hospital, Dr. Greene, stepped out into the dimly lit reception area. You quickly stood, shrugging the jacket up around your shoulders better. You looped the abandoned stethoscope around your neck, grabbed two charts, and stuck a pen behind your ear.

“Evening, Y/N,” he stopped at the counter, heels of hands holding him into it.

You acted surprised, pushing your loose hair from your face. “Oh, hey, Dr. Greene. I was just about to do rounds.“

“Are you busy then? Could you get Nina to do that?” He gestured to your companion who was snoozing away with her head in her hands on the other side of the round desk area.

“I could, but may I ask why?” You politely responded, all too hopeful that he didn’t need you in the ER, but-

“Nurse Hathaway went home sick. Throwing up everywhere.” The corner of his lip tugged down in a disgusted-like expression. “Could you come help out a little?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, let me just-“

I threw up and didn’t go home sick, you thought, shaking awake Nina, informing her of the change, and collecting your things from the desk. Dr. Greene didn’t wait for you, already loading himself into the elevator and riding down to the ER. You took that opportunity to slip from the moccasins youd had on your feet. You tugged on tennis shoes and quickly punched a finger into the elevator que.

Moments later, you were pushing through the chaos of patients and stepping into the break room. You greeted the soap opera on the tv, the empty Chinese food cartons on the coffee table, and the sleeping doctor face down on the couch. Quietly, you set your bag on the chair beside him and left the room. You approached the counter, kneading your hands together. The ER made you nervous, which is why you chose to work in the ICU, but you had interned down here for a year.

It was loud, machines beeping, sometimes people screaming or crying. Because it was one of the five hospitals in LA, it was often busy with junkies or gangsters. You’d been caught by a gun on the back of your hip once, threatened to be stabbed, but overall rescued by the security around every corner. It was horrible.

You rapped a knuckle on the counter, tucking more loose hair behind your ears and carefully spinning the rings in them as you said, “What’s up, Frankie? Got anything for me?”

“Oh, Nurse Y/L/N, what’re you doing here?” Frankie, the receptionist, spun around in her chair. She chewed loudly on some bubblegum, spinning a pen in her hand.

“I’m Hathaway’s replacement. Got anything?” You repeated.

“Yeah, you can take over rooms 5-8. They’re empty, but there’s some people out in the waiting area. Not too much, its pretty slow except for the two trauma rooms being busy.” Frankie pointed off in each direction as she spoke.

You nodded, pushing yourself off the counter. You picked up a clipboard, took the pen from behind your ear, and hit the door to the waiting area open with your hip. Your eyes took in the four people waiting to be admitted, all tagged along with by one person or, in the sickest looking man’s position, three. You noticed the worried looks on their faces, the pale and clammy skin of the hunched over one, and immediately stepped towards them.

“Hi, I’m Nurse Y/L/N. I’m gonna be taking care of you today. If you follow me I’m gonna get you a room, okay?” You crouched down to be at eye level with the sick boy, whose blond hair made him look even lighter. He weakly nodded and you stood at the same time the dark-haired one did. “Can he walk?”

The question was answered when he stood and nearly fell on top of you. His arms slung around your shoulders and you caught myself on your heels. The three others grabbed him, pulling him off of you.

“Let me grab a wheelchair,” you walked to the corner of the room where a rack of wheelchairs were. You popped one open and helped situate the boy into it. You gestured for the others to follow, the dark haired one falling in step with you.

He was flustered, hair shaggy with worried hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. “He’s been sick for a few days, but it got really bad last night. Said his chest was hurting and he was really short of breath. He doesnt have, like, heart or chest problems, so we got worried.”

You stopped outside of the room and he took it as his cue to open the door. He did, you thanked him, and stepped inside. Your lips cracked into a smile, “You should be worried even he did have chest and heart problems.”

The boy let out a shuddered laugh, skin sticky with sweat. “y-yeah.”

You shut the door and stepped up to the bed, “Can you help me get him up here?” They all did, hands shaky and faces weary. “Okay. Go ahead and take a seat. I have to do a physical evaluation before I get a doctor. I need to know what information to present a doctor with.”

“His names Michael, by the way,” the dark haired one added once they all nodded with approval to your plans. “I’m Calum. Hood, his last names Clifford.”

“You already did paperwork in the waiting area, right?” You carefully brushed Michaels hair from eyes, peeling them open to shine your flashlight in them. His eyes responded with dilation, a positive sign.

“No? No one really told us anything,” the tall blond responded.

You huffed, rolled your eyes, but tried not to look annoyed for your patient’s. “Okay, why dont one of you go to the front desk and ask for an information sheet. You’ll need to fill it out for him. i dont think he’s in any shape to hold a pen-“

You had been roaming your hands around his body, taking his blood pressure, peering at the back of his throat. Now, you were checking his pulse, and noticed that his fingernails were blue. You glanced back up at his lips, hearing the door open and close. The blond was gone, doing what you told him to. Michaels lips were blue.

You checked his blood pressure on the paper and frowned. It was normal, but you continued by taking his temperature. It was 104.2. You quickly unwrapped the stethoscope from your neck and lifted his shirt. He shuddered at your cold fingertips, causing a wave of shivers to wrack his body.

“Sorry, sh, its okay,” you cooed, hearing your voice drowned out by the quickness of his heartbeat. Keeping yourself cool, calm, and collected, you took the buds from your ears and tucked it around your neck. “Okay, I am going to get a doctor.“

You slipped from the room before they could question your flushed face. Quickly, you turned the corner from your assigned rooms and walked towards the desk, where a white coat was signing papers.

“Dr. Greene?” You stopped before him, “I have possible pneumonia in 6. He’s struggling to breath and I’m worried he’ll go into respiratory distress if we dont get him hooked up.”

Greene choked on his coffee and tore the clipboard from your hands. “Alright, lets get going.”

You took twice as many strides, shorter than the doctor who didn’t wait for you. The two of you calmed your exposures outside the room, not wanting to scare the boys inside. The blond was back with his own clipboard, scribbling and murmuring with the other two.

They nudged each other to pay attention when Dr. Greene arrived. You smiled politely at them, moving to stand across from Dr. Greene. “Michael Clifford, fingernails and lips are blue, coughing like crazy but no signs of blood. Chills, temperature of 104.5, blood pressure is 160 over 120, heartbeat is quick, but I didn’t have time to check because I came for you.”

Dr. Greene reached for the blood pressure equipment and took it again, eyes widening when he showed you the 100/120. “Okay, lets get him IVed, put a nasal cannula for oxygenation, order some blood tests, a chest x-ray, pulse oximetry, and a sputum test. Let me know what you happens and I will be back to help evaluate further instructions.”

“Okay, thank you,” you got to work, quickly wrapping a band around the left arm of your patient. This one was blank of tattoos, but still pretty thick with muscle. You couldn’t deny he was a handsome man, despite the blue lips, pale skin, and sweaty exterior.

You briefly heard Dr.Greene informing Michael’s friends of what was happening when the patient himself mumbled something. You quirked a brow, hummed, and leaned closer as you began to set up the nasal cannula. “What’s happening?”

“Hi, Michael,” you spoke gently, “my name is Nurse Y/N. Your friends brought you in because they were worried about you. Turns out, they were right to be. Your BP dropped to 100/120, your skin is blueing, your heartbeats rapid, inhale is clouded, and temperature is 104.5.”

“They actually care about me?” He weakly chortled, immediately coughing into his hands afterwards. You didn’t fault to notice the blood and carefully helped him settle back into the pillows.

“Hey, here,” you grabbed a cloth, wetted it under the sink, and carefully blotted at his hands, his lips.

He briefly smiled at you, eyes barely cracked open. “Youre really pretty.”

You blushed, scrunching up your nose as you set up fluids to run through his system. He was dehydrated, and you didn’t need a doctor to tell you that. “Thanks, Michael.”

You turned to leave, nodding at the boys as you passed. You found the telephone on the wall beside the room and dialed the memorized numbers. Soon, you were back in the room, pulling up the handles of Michael’s bed. You hooked his IV bag to the rod sticking up in the back, hung the clipboard by the front rung, and helped Calum push the bed through the door.

The two of you loaded the elevator, your eyes focused on the fluttering lashes on the sleep patient sleeping soundly below you. Calum was staring at the floor, eyes glassy with worry.

“Hes going to be okay, Calum. Worst case scenario, he ends up in the ICU for 4-6 days and Ill be watching him.” You giggled, smiling wider when Calum chortled.

“I thought you worked down here?” He twisted his hands on the handles, eyes fluttering around the elevator. Suddenly, it ringed and the doors opened.

You pushed along behind him, instructing him on which door to enter. “I was just covering for someone. I’m usually stationed in the ICU.”

“Oh,” Calum responded. You told him to take a seat in the waiting area and checked in with the x-ray administrators.

When Michael was wheeled into the room and transferred to the x-ray cot, you turned to join Calum. You sat in the chair beside him, arms crossed.

“How old are you?” He turned to ask.

“Why?” You shook your head, an amused expression on your face.

“Well, if he’s gonna be in the ICU for 4-6 days, I’m going to be there, too. Might as well get to know you before I’m up your ass for the next week.”

You liked this guy, and this unworried side of him. You could tell his humor would have you bent at the waist, head thrown back in laughter. You lifted a brow, smirked, and said, “Bold of you to assume I’m not going to be up your ass.”

“Try me.”

A beat of silence passed, both of your eyes turned away from one another, “I’m 23.”

Calum tilted his head towards you and smiled, “23. Youre young.”

“graduated early, top of my class,” you shrugged your shoulders with pride on your chest.”What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“Well, I’m surprised you weren’t fangirling when I introduced myself.” Amused with your twisted face, he continued, “I’m in a band. 5 Seconds of Summer. I play bass.”

You suddenly noticed his accent, which seemed to be faded from years in the US, “That makes, strangely, lots of sense. I can see you playing bass.”

He had huge dimples which deepened. “Maybe you can actually see me someday.”

“Woah, Hood, lets get through this x-ray first.”

#michael clifford x oc #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford x reader #michael clifford #michael clifford x you #calum hood imagine #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood #calm 5 seconds of summer #5sos imgaines #5sos x you #5sos fam #5sos fluff #5sos fanfic #5sos blurb #calum 5sos #5sos michael #5sos ashton

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dreamlover31 · 3 years

Text

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 35

For the next few days, Alexa fell into a daze, it was as if her mind shut itself off to the world around; at one point, the faces that came in and out began to blur. Doctors presumed she was suffering from post-partum depression, but to everyone else, it became clear that her heart ached for the person that was missing from what was supposed to be a joyous event, even holding Nadia did little to ease her pain.

Ultimately, Lucia became the child’s sole caregiver, new stations from across the city were keeping its citizens updated as to the shooting of assistant district attorney Rafael Barba. Carisi, Rollins and Fin sat in the waiting room, listening to the news anchor spread word of the lack of leads in the investigation, Olivia paced the room; the last they heard of Barba’s condition was that he was in critical condition.

Carisi’s face sullied in despair, then after a moment, he said:

“I still can’t believe this is happening”

Fin chimed in, “Barba’s a tough bastard…he’ll get through this”

Rollins nodded lightly in agreement at her partner’s statement, she looked over towards Olivia, the fearless leader of SVU was on the verge of tears when the young detective stood up and walked over to her, as a form of comfort, she placed her hand on Liv’s shoulder.

“Hey…you ok?”

“I just can’t stop thinking about Alexa, I mean…the last time I saw her…I barely recognized her”

“She’s going through a lot right now…all we can do is give her as much love and support as we can”

“Rollins, she barely even looked at her baby after she was born…and even now, the only people taking care of her are the nurses and Lucia”

Rollins sighed, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know”

Suddenly, Nadia stirred in the bassinet and began crying softly at first, then in a matter of seconds, the poor thing started wailing; all the while, Alexa showed indifference towards her own child.

Before, she reached the bed, Olivia briefly exited the room and grabbed an incoming nurse; she asked the young woman to care for Nadia while the two women had a little chat, with a saddened expression, the young woman made haste and retrieved the screaming baby.

The moment they were alone, Olivia approached Alexa’s bed and with a stern look on her face, then she tore Alexa a new one.

“God, damn it Alexa, snap out of this…you have a daughter that needs you right now, I know you’re worried about Barba…we all are, but he wouldn’t want you to spend your days wallowing in self-pity. He’d want you to pick yourself up and take care of Nadia until he comes home to the two of you”

Olivia’s words appeared to have broken through Alexa’s self-induced catatonia, for at that moment, her dark brown eyes peered upward, and in a weak voice said:

“What if he doesn’t come home…what then? I can’t raise her without him…he’s all that I have…” fresh tears cascaded down her face, then Olivia reached out and graced her shoulder with her hand.

“Listen to me, you are not alone in this, you have me and you have Fin, Rollins and Carisi…as far as I’m concerned we are family like Lucia is to you…and I can promise you this, he will be coming home to you and Nadia…I have faith”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but Alexa relented and propped herself up by her elbows, Olivia locked hands with Alexa as she lifted her off the bed. With a deep breath, she stood firmly before Liv and asked:

“Where’s Nadi, I want to see her”

“I’ll get her for you”

Another few minutes passed before she returned with the infant swaddled up in a pink blanket and sporting a matching beanie, a soft smile beamed over Alexa’s face as she carefully crept towards her sleeping baby.

“Can I hold her?”

“Of course”

Suddenly, Nadia’s eyes peered open, a warm feeling spread throughout Alexa’s body the moment their eyes linked; they were green like her father’s. My beautiful daughter, she looks like me…but deep down, she has her father’s spirit…I can tell just by looking at her, my poor child…forgive me for not being there when you needed me, but from here on out…I promise to protect you and love with all my heart, the same goes for your father…and believe me, you will see him soon.

Her heart swelled with pride, this beautiful creature was created from their love and there was no way in hell that anyone was going to take that away from her or their daughter, for a brief second, she looked over at Olivia and questioned the status of Rafael’s condition.

“He’s in critical condition, but he’s stable”

“Can I see him?”

“I’ll find out”

Once again, she left the room, then upon her return, Olivia informed her that she had the all clear to take Nadia to see him in the ICU. A nurse helped Alexa on to an awaiting wheelchair as Olivia carried Nadia, after she handed her back, all four of them headed down towards Rafael’s room.

Olivia rolled the wheelchair to the bed, eyes met briefly in a way where Olivia silently asked permission if they would be alright alone, to which she responded with a slight nod. With that, Olivia gave the small family their privacy, Alexa turned back to her handsome, adorning man and smiled sweetly as she spoke:

“Hi honey, it’s me…I brought a visitor, it’s our daughter Nadi…she’s beautiful and she has your eyes”

The monitors beeped and the ventilator breathed for him while she continued to speak to him, a small sniffle passed through her nose.

“Rafael, I know you can make it through this…you have to because I don’t know if I can do this without you, and I don’t want our baby growing up without you…not when there’s so many wonderful things about you that she needs to see, your wit, your smile and above all…your determination, especially for when you go above and beyond to get justice for a victim…that and your goofiness…”she chuckled.

“I promise to never leave your side again, but now I need to promise me that you will fight to survive…because you have too much to live for, and I’ll make you another one…to protect both you and Nadia from anything that will do us any harm, I’d give my life for both of you…and I know you’d do the same for us”

At that moment, Nadia stirred in her mother’s arms, she looked down at her briefly and gently rocked the little one, then as if a lightbulb went off in her head, Alexa remembered a song from a Broadway play turned film that gave her solace against the horrors of the world; her soft voice filled the quiet room as she sang:

“Nothing’s gonna harm you

Not while I’m around

Nothing’s gonna harm you

No sir, not while I’m around”

“Demons are prowling everywhere

Nowadays

I’ll send’em howling

I don’t care, I got ways”

“No one’s gonna hurt you

No one’s gonna dare”

Others can desert you

Not to worry, whistle, I’ll be there”

“Demons’ll charm you with a smile

For a while

But in time nothing can harm you

Not while I’m around”

“Not to worry, not to worry

I may not be smart but I ain’t dumb

I can do it, put me to it

Show me something I can overcome

Not to worry”

“Being close and being clever

Ain’t like being true

I don’t need to, I would never

Hide a thing from you

Like some…”

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @karens-imagined-world @teamsladsandgents @beccabarba @madamsnape921 @thatesqcrush @glimmerglittergirl @itsjustmyfantasyroom

#rafael barba #raul esparza #love will find a way

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crazyperfectsense · 4 years

Text

4/30/20/1

god April was 5 minutes long and I’m going to spend all 5 of them writing this post

this is honestly probably far too personal to put into the public of the internet, and perhaps I’ll take it down before anyone really sees it, but Tumblr is comforting because it is almost a graveyard and the people who remain (who I see in fleeting posts in passing, hi) I trust (or just will not see this because they do not care or the algorithm does not favor long text posts), whereas Facebook is horrifying and Instagram is worse, and this is likely going to be too long to hold anyone’s attention for the whole thing, but I also want to get some notes down for whenever I finally get to talk to my therapist again, so here we go

I woke up at 6:30am naturally (horrifying!), leapt out of bed because I realized how much work I had to do (hate when a nap turns into just...sleep!), and got a text from my dad 15 minutes later that my maternal grandfather was in critical condition, and somehow still managed to do work for the next six hours out of necessity

it briefly brought back flashbacks to 2012, where my dad didn’t tell me for a week that his father died because I had finals my first semester of college, but told me right after he picked me up as we were driving across campus to pick up a friend that we were taking back home, so I had about 3 minutes to compose myself before a 2 hour car ride (horrifying!)

my grandfather died around 1pm, and I had the truly unique (horrifying! ! ! !) experience of finding out via text while I was on a Zoom call as the TA, where I was the only person sharing video other than the professor (my advisor!), and I had to keep my composure while simultaneously finishing creating the homework that I was behind on making while also trying to figure out what to respond to this text notification of mortality, because I don’t know how to say any sort of condolence really in Chinese, but my dad was handling communications and just texting in English anyway — and I don’t know, it’s the kind of thing where I probably could’ve ditched the call and made excuses later, but the effort to preserve even the slightest tinge of normalcy in this moment seemed right, and I did my very best (and succeeded!) to not spontaneously burst into tears on camera, even though I did about 0.03 seconds after I hung up

an aside: thank god that my advisor was sharing screen and people were hopefully focused on him / in speaker mode or something, because my neutral face is....poor! not entirely sure because I avoided making eye contact with my virtual self aside from brief checks to make sure that I was still alive, still functioning as I flickered from screen to screen across my two monitors

I had a meeting scheduled with my advisor afterwards, and he was all ready to move into it, but was so extremely understanding the second he saw my message I had sent 50 min earlier that was effectively “can we push this back a bit because my grandfather died and I need to call my fam lol” and suggested (as any normal person with emotions would) that I take the time to formally postpone and regroup if needed (needed!) rather than just pushing back a half hour or so like I naively thought would work

I had to desperately cry for about 20 minutes (horrifying!) before I felt ready to call my family, even so

I hate hearing my mom sad! it’s the fucking worst! but it was a relief for 2 seconds to exist over a phone line with someone who also couldn’t talk straight without needing to take a few gasping breaths

another aside: i didn’t write about this in February because, well, everything was on fire in my life already, so briefly: my mom was supposed to be in China through mid-March, having gone there in October. things obviously went to shit, given *gestures at COVID-19 and the world*, and we booked her an early return flight, given that the senior living facility my grandparents were in had already closed to visitors out of precaution. my brother, dad, and I collectively freaked the fuck out (my brother started crying in the middle of class and had to leave, I barely held it together in mine but paid negative attention) when flights back from China started getting cancelled (and for those like, terrifying few hours where Trump was going to ban foreign nationals since my mom’s not a citizen and they didn’t make it clear that immediate family of US citizens were fine), but we somehow made it happen

so, back to the phone call: I just let her talk and she had so many regrets about leaving China when she did, and it just made me feel like the shittiest person for wanting her back home in America when it deprived her of the chance to see her dad one more time. my uncle and mom luckily got to take my grandparents out of the senior home for one night to celebrate Chinese New Year the day before the facility closed to visitors, so they had one last dinner together as a family but thinking about the what ifs makes me want to cry all over again. my mom just kept saying how she wished she could’ve done more, how she wished they had gone to the hospital earlier for a check-up, and the most I could helplessly contribute was “coronavirus concerns were already rampant and it could have been even worse, given airborne contagion,” even if I said as many other things as I could, about how dialysis was painful as hell and my grandfather, the former doctor, said he didn’t even want to be in the ICU at the end years before his passing

I learned what the Chinese words were for “depression” today, when my mom said my grandfather said he had it and they had gotten him some medication for it a few months ago, and I was so stunned that it was “depression” and not some strange disease I was unfamiliar with that I couldn’t say anything for 30 seconds, and I can’t really write more on this point because I will just start crying, but perhaps I should really think about how aging research is largely focused on non-Asian populations and how perhaps, I’m uniquely equipped to contribute a bit to the field here (but, that is true for so many things, and I am tired!)

my grandfather was great. he was quiet, but stubborn as hell. he was a doctor, and he loved routine. he cared so, fucking, much about me and my brother. he always insisted on taking my brother and me on walks to the same few places that he liked to visit — I remember visiting this community center that had a ping pong table — and him going out of his way to find me internet access, since my grandparents’ apartment didn’t have it for most of the years I visited. he loved taking me and my brother to KFC, because he thought it was the height of Americanized cuisine in China, and was so proud of how much better it was than American KFC (which he hadn’t had, but he knew, and he was right. we would eat every single bite of a two-piece meal each. even the ketchup was better). he once cut out a newspaper clipping ranking UT as the #2 college on this huge list of colleges (I think it was referring to research endowments, but anyway) and saved it to show me almost a year later. he told me in 2013 that he would probably live to see me finish college, and he lived to see me two years into grad school, dying when I was halfway through year three. he was 89. I loved him so much, even if we didn’t get to talk much at all.

I’m so mad at all these fucking people who, in the land of the free and the home of the so-called brave, are being idiots in this time and not social distancing. I’m so mad at every single friend who posts a large or small gathering to their story, at everyone who is so thirsty for social connection that they’re willing to put everyone they’re in close contact with at risk to hang out with another person for just a few hours (horrifying!). humans are social creatures who need engagement and connection to live — having written 22 pages about health and social relationships across 12 hours a few weeks ago, I understand this point so saliently that it’s painful. but seeing such....levity when my mom is crying over not being able to even go back to China to properly say goodbye because they won’t admit anyone from the US (and the US has banned travel to China, like that was necessary in this xenophobic environment) makes me want to punch a wall. suck it up! call your friends over Zoom or FaceTime like the goddamn rest of us!

grief is so strange, and grief is encapsulated in every molecule of this new normal — the strangeness of missing the life that once was, even if the past wasn’t something that I thought I’d miss. I remember feeling so, so guilty for traveling twice in February because of the studying for comps that I should’ve been doing, and now I marvel at my foresight. (and have so many regrets for the people who I told “I’ll see you in April when I’m back after comps are done!!”

I’m in this weird spot where I feel like I’m screaming at the people around me to care, and all of them are too busy with different social ties, and I’m watching my connections wilt and fray because everyone thinks I’m so stable and put-together (or boring and shy?)

an example: I was left off of a reunion Zoom call with some people I worked with in college that was widely talked about on social media regarding “love having shared all this time with these strong women” and all, and it felt very, idk, selfish and whiny (horrifying) to be like “how can you call this feminism when I, a real woman, am being left out of this call”! the following exchange, about the above, happened with in a group chat with a very blunt friend:

D: “Also, how does it feel to be left out of that [organization] Women zoom call, Amy?” another aside: (this....was a stupid question. but we’ll allow it, because boys will be boys.) me: “lol it honestly hurt my feelings but it's not like they weren't cliquey from the very beginning ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ to be expected I suppose” D: “Yeah when I saw that I was like “Why didn’t include Amy, she was there at the same time as they were”” me: “LOL thanks for thinking of me 🥺 they clearly did not”

(the other friend staying quiet, because it was tangibly awkward, even if I tried to play it chill, but my feelings remain hurt) perhaps if I cared more, or wanted to try and make people feel bad, I would’ve replied to a story with “tfti”, or laughed, or heart-reacted, or something “casual” that still implicates “where was my invite”, but....is it even worth investing the hurt and care and time when I’m not even sure it would spark embarrassment on their end? because perhaps they intentionally just do not...care about me and my feelings? at all? (horrifying?)

(I already know this to be true, even if the snub was unintentional, but I needed to muse about it anyway)

another aside: I still talk with plenty of people from this organization who I am MUCH closer with, and I shouldn’t feel snubbed to be snubbed by people who I never felt too close with in the first place! (and yet! horrifying!)

sent an extremely passive aggressive message earlier and yet, K tells me that the people in the chat might not even read it as passive aggressive! (horrifying!)

god. I don’t know! I feel so much sadness and anger, and yet still have a few hours of work to do tonight. it’s wild that even today, where my heart just hurts every few seconds if I think too hard, I still have my mind centered in needing to be productive and not lazy because I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating on my work (horrifying!). but the work is about Asian American collective action / media production, and I feel good about it, and I’m working with some badass Asian women, and I really hope it lands in this flagship journal, because that would be a win, and I kind of just need one!

oh if it’s not clear I finished comps and I don’t know if I passed yet but they’re done so...that’s something

also whoever fucking looked at Chicago style citations and thought “oh hmm, let’s make another type of Chicago style that is DIFFERENT and call it Chicago style documentation” is the literal fucking devil

ok this is enough for now bye. god this was long. (horrifying!!!!!!)

#ever spontaneously write 2000+ words

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crew-of-the-detz · 5 years

Text

Crawl Aftermath: Klove

He had done it, Finnegan Klove had done it.

He made it to pub 15, downed a pint, then looked around the pub. Nobody but him and the bartender.

He left Kev with the woman, Peacock at the tattoo parlor, Yeqata and her pilots quit at pub 12 to make sure they made it to the Detz. And now Klove sat alone.

He pushed the pint glass away and the bartender took it. She leaned on the bar, "Hey, we match." She tapped on her arm, the biological arm stopped halfway between the shoulder and elbow before turning to mechanical parts.

Kev looked at her arm, then flexed his. "Yeah, guess we do." His burn scarred face pulled into a frown, "How'd you lose yours?"

The bartender flexed her robotic hand. "Lost it in the service, got ripped off by a Burso shredder."

"Aaah. A vet," Klove nodded, "appreciate your service."

She pulled a half smile, "Yeah. Only thing it got me was a robotic arm and a small pension. But hey, what about you? How'd you lose yours if you don't mind me asking."

Klove froze for a bit, then ran his fingers over the graffitied arm. "It was a fire. Fire took my arm and left me with this beautiful mug."

The bartender stopped for a while, "Oh, I'm sorry. Here," she filled up another pint, "this one's on me."

Klove took it and nodded, "Hey so uh, what's your name?"

The Bartender leaned on the bar again, "Clarice."

"Clarice," Klove nodded to himself. As if he was assuring himself of the name he was just told. "Clarice, do you mind if I talk to you? Get some stuff off my chest? My workplace isn't really the best place for talk and I just realized I never talked through what happened to me."

Clarice smiled, "Of course you can, I'm a free set of ears for all of my clientel."

Finnegan ran his hand over his arm again, the cold plasteel sending shivers down his spine. "I used to work for Grimbold armory, weapons designer. Worked on SAPER ammunition, revised models of guass rifles, was running the show for explosives as well. Anyways, one day I'm in my boss' office and I notice a datapad out of place. I go to put it back in his databank and it unlocks, showing hundreds of data transfers to an unknown outpost in the middle of a asteroid belt. Naturally I was curious and decided to go using a company shuttle, and when I get there the place is full of Burso light warships."

Clarice's jaw tightens, "The bastard was leaking info."

"Right, he was. So I go back and report this to the CEO. Guy goes to trial, is found guilty, gets locked away and I think I've won." Klove makes a hand trumpet and blows a little reverie with his mouth. Then his hand goes down, and his face loses emotion. "But, if I won I would still have my arm. I go to my lab the next week and start working on my project at the time. An incendiary spider mine, little drone that scuttles to a target then detonates spraying napalm. I was balancing the napalm with my team, when suddenly the container of spider mines we were working on activated. One latched onto my chemists chest, and detonated. One latched onto my roboticists head, and detonated. One latched on to the intern's pelvis, and detonated. And then," he looked at his metal arm, "I was quick enough to try and swat mine away. It latched on to my left arm and then, yaknow...."

Clarice cleared her throat. "Detonated."

Klove stared into his pint glass. "Kenny, the roboticist died instantly, head incinerated. Lilah, chemist died in the ICU, told me her burns got infected. And Harold, the intern, lost both his legs and can't function without a caretaker and anti-PTSD meds. Me, I was the lucky one. All I lost was my [REDACTED] arm. After the incident I was, 'let go' and management gave me a large sum of money to try and make up for it. I looked into it afterwards and the activation code for the spider mines came from high up, way high up. They wanted to shut me up and it cost me my team, my friends." Klove fell silent, staring it his arm.

"Then what happened." Clarice leaned in closer.

"Well I left, joined my current job, got a new arm. Just sorta been living ever since. Hit Grimbold Armory in the finances whenever I could and just kept going. Day after I was cleared from the hospital my apartment lit up from a 'gas leak'. So I knew it wasn't safe to stay around. So yeah, I've just been sorta, living yaknow."

Clarice nodded, "What's your name? If I may ask."

"Finn, Finnegan Klove."

"Well Finn," she bagan, "what happened to you sucks. It does. I know survivors guilt too, the shredder that took my arm also took one of my closest friends. But what keeps me going is the fact that I'm alive. I named this bar after him, I tell his story. And you just took the first step with me, Lilah, Kenny, the injustice that Grimbold caused you. Sharing that takes balls and is what gets you beyond just living. So, my advice?" Clarice locked eyes with Klove, "Shout your story from the rooftops, let the worlds know what happened to you. Talk about it at your workplace. Let the fallen live on through you."

Klove stared deep into Clarice's eyes, then stood up, left some credits on the bar. Then left without a word. He scanned the midnight street, not a soul. He read the sign of the bar. "Hernandez's Paradise", he then turned to the street. And threw his head back before screaming into the night, "Grimbold Armory killed my friends!"

Saying made him remember, the beers they'd shared, the laughs they had.

Again, "Grimbold Armory killed my friends!"

The fear they had on their faces when the spider mines activated.

Again, between sobs, "Grimbold Amory killed my friends!"

Then, peace. He felt at peace. The sobs rocked his body and he held his robotic arm, but he felt like a slight justice had been done. He called in the shuttle to get back to the Detz, and planned a more thorough way of assuring justice.

Hiedi Grimbold, Finnegan Klove is coming for you.

(I know I promised this for a while, but here it finally is! I hope it lived up to your expectations, and as always I'll see you amongst the stars)

#alien #aliens #humans are space orcs #original #project orc #space #spaceship #fiction #humans are weird #literature #scifi #humanity #original fiction #sci fi #detz #loss

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somethingjustsouthofbrilliance · 6 years

Text

I Got You (Tony/Rhodey secret service AU) Chapter 3

For the purposes of this chapter, I borrowed a bit of dialogue from... well, you’ll know where I borrowed it from ;-) Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Links to chapter 1, chapter 2

Tagging @jamesrhodey @supernaturalyloki @chanderefk @aimeeroot21 @markedplaces @mostly-marvel-stuffs @matre-dee @le-ephemere @lo-anlurui @savedbyholmes @kimmycup @typicalcampbell

Chapter 3

The next time he runs into Stark it’s at the hospital in an ICU cubicle – a fittingly surreal diminuendo to a harrowing nerve wreck of a day.

Happy. Happy is in the hospital. ICU. Barely clinging to life after getting thrown halfway across the parking garage by a bomb that tore apart the presidential limo and damaged the nearby vehicles. A bomb he’s pretty sure was meant for him. And James can’t process it, hasn’t even begun to process it, what with being whisked away from the scene by overeager agents and all but hauled down into the bunker while the police, ambulance and security stormed the scene. And it isn’t until much later, until after things calm down a bit, his own minor cuts have been tended to, the scene is secured and plans are being discussed (nay, shouted) all around him about increasing security and possibly putting the entire White House on lockdown for the time being until the perpetrator is identified and neutralized, that he announces loudly and unequivocally that he will agree to whatever security measures they deem necessary as long as he can get to check on his bodyguard.

A cacophony of outraged worry meets his request, but he stands firm on that, he won’t budge. Because it’s Happy’s crumpled, bloodied form he sees whenever he closes his eyes. Because he can’t help thinking that if he hadn’t stopped to answer his mother’s text, leaving Happy to go on ahead of him, he would have been the one spilling blood all over the floor of the parking lot.

He has to go check on the man. He owes him at least that much.

Surprisingly, it’s Obadiah that comes to his defense, bringing up the point that another attempt in such a short time span is unlikely, that the perpetrator has probably gone to ground, waiting for things to settle down, that nobody would be expecting the president to be out and about so soon after this incident.

It’s settled after that, and James spares but a cursory glance to his Chief of Staff, who shakes his head in disapproval before walking off to the side, phone glued to his ear, and then he’s off, huddled between two stone-faced agents in the back of a nondescript sedan on his way to the hospital.

It’s well past visiting hours, but his office carries a certain clout and he is led through to the ICU without much hassle and directed by a sleepily flustered nurse to the room that has two security agents posted outside the door. He nods to them as he approaches, motions for his own detail to wait with them, and walks inside, allowing himself the barest of hesitations to prepare for what he’s about to find there.

The room is quiet save for the faint whirring of medical equipment, the comfortable semi-darkness broken only by the flickering of a muted TV screen on the wall opposite the bed. It strikes him as odd –having the TV on when the person for whom it is intended lies there so completely unaware of the world around him. He reaches for the remote, intent on turning the useless device off.

And whips around, nearly dropping the remote, when a slightly raspy and vaguely familiar voice calls on him to stop.

“Leave it on, please.”

The shadows behind the bed move, a human shape molding itself out of the blackness, stepping forth into the feeble light.

“Stark?” he blinks, trying to reconcile the rumple-clothed hollow-eyed man before him with the sharply dressed confidence exuding professional that had sauntered into his office a few days ago. “What–?”

“Sunday nights. PBS. Downtown Abbey,” Stark continues as if James hasn’t spoken, arms crossed with an almost defensive awkwardness on his chest. He looks tired, drawn, a suspicious glint in the dusk-hooded eyes. “It’s his show. He thinks it’s elegant.” There’s a barely audible catch in his voice, and Stark covers it up with a cough, hitches his shoulders up in a shrug that seems a bit too forced to be nonchalant.

It unsettles James seeing him like this – so uncharacteristically vulnerable, so decidedly human. He wants to say something, to reassure the man, to apologize for getting his friend hurt. But something in the way Stark holds himself, in the tension James can feel emanating from his body, stops him short.

“How did you get in here?” he asks instead. Because there are agents posted outside the door, and he can’t imagine them letting anyone in.

“I have ways,” Stark replies enigmatically. Throws an almost derisively disapproving glance in the direction of the door. “Your agents aren’t as good at their job as they believe themselves to be. If they were, your bodyguard wouldn’t be lying here right now with a fucking tube down his throat.”

James flinches at the barely disguised venom in the man’s voice, bristles at the unprovoked affront. “I’ve always been under the impression that secret service agents are the best of the best,” he counters coolly, hoping to rein the man in with his words. Because, yes, Stark is upset, understandably so. But that is no reason to take it out on his men.

It was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

Stark takes a step toward him, eyes flashing hot with fury. Stabs a hand blindly in the direction of Happy’s bed. “You just lost your best man, Mr. President!” he hisses, chest heaving as he sucks in a sharp breath, as if preparing to say more.

And then he stops, steps back, blinking as though coming awake after a trance. Snaps his mouth shut, visibly forcing himself to relax. A mask slides over his face – cold, calm, professional.

“That’s why I’m here,” he says simply, and James gapes at him, brow furrowing in confusion.

“I’m sorry, I don’t–”

“I’m taking the job, Mr. President,” Stark cuts him off bluntly. “I’ve changed my mind.”

James considers him silently for a long moment, trying to get a read on the man before him, to gauge what his motives might be. He comes up blank.

“Why?” he wants to know.

Stark shrugs, looks over at the bed, seeming to study Happy’s slack face, half obscured by the breathing tube. “Because that bomb was meant for you,” he responds, fury still thrumming a quiet beat through his words. “Because this person, whoever they are, will try again, and if they succeed,” he points at Happy again, “then he went through all of this for nothing. And I can’t accept that.” He pauses, fists clenching at his sides. Takes a deep breath. “Whoever this person is, they made it personal now.” He turns his gaze back to James, the dark, menacing intensity of it nearly causing him to recoil. “And as far as I’m concerned, they’re already dead.”

James swallows tightly, finding himself completely at a loss as to what to say. On the one hand he’s thrilled to have this guy finally come around, especially now that these death threats he heretofore considered a mere annoyance, a product of someone’s sick imagination, have suddenly become all too deadly and all too real. But Stark seems to be wound up so tight that he wonders if the man is even gonna be up to the task.

He is about to express his concerns when the door to Happy’s room opens and his Chief of Staff walks in, a small bag in hand.

“Ah, the ever-unruffled Agent,” Stark enthuses before James can even wonder out loud what Phil is doing here. “Just the man I wanted to see. Did ya bring what I asked?”

Coulson nods, face unreadable as ever. Opens up the bag to pull out a credit card, a flip phone and a set of car keys. “Untraceable prepaid card,” he recites as if checking off items from some invisible list, “clean phone with new SIM card and no GPS tracker, and a car parked out back.”

“Good boy,” Stark praises with a smirk, pocketing the items. Pulls out his own cell phone and drops it into the bag still held open by Coulson. “Your turn, Mr. President.”

James shakes his head, puts up both hands like a shield. “Would someone, please, explain to me what the hell is happening here?” he snaps.

Coulson cocks his head at him, throws a mildly disapproving gaze Stark’s way. “You didn’t tell him?”

“You interrupted me before I could… Agent,” Stark defends, winking at the man, and grins at Coulson’s exasperated eye roll.

“I called Stark earlier, Sir. Asked him to take over,” Coulson explains, and James thinks back to that moment in the bunker when he watched Phil walk away, phone pressed to his ear. “He was already at the hospital, so it worked out.”

“Take over how… exactly,” he wonders, scowling at Coulson’s bag.

“I’m gonna take you to a safe house, Mr. President,” Stark cuts in, all business. “This person that’s after you, they know your schedule, they know your itinerary, they have access to your office. That leaves too many suspects that are in too close of proximity to your person. Trying to protect you in Washington would be like trying to protect a bucket of chum in shark-infested waters. I wanna increase your chances of survival.”

“By making me go on the run.”

“By making you disappear,” Stark corrects patiently, reaching his hand toward him. “Your phone, please, Mr. President.”

“I got everything under control, Mr. President,” his Chief of Staff intervenes once more. “The media will have a cover story – you’re taking some personal time in the wake of the tragic incident. Vice President Stane will temporarily take over your duties. All you need to do is follow Mr. Stark’s direction and stay safe while we take care of things here. The police and secret service will continue their investigation and we’ll hopefully have our guy behind bars or on a slab before you know it.”

James gapes at the two of them, his head spinning from the unexpectedness of it all. It’s madness, he thinks. Utter madness. Woodenly he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, placing it in Stark’s waiting palm. “How do you even… how do you propose we disappear? There are agents all over this hospital, I-”

“The hallway and the stairway are clear,” Coulson interrupts, and Stark nods to him in approval as if he was expecting this exact response. “The cameras will be down in exactly…,” he glances at his watch, “one minute thirty-two seconds. The cameras at the parking structure will be down exactly 5 minutes after that. You will have about 7 minutes altogether to get out unseen.”

“This is insane,” James huffs out, feeling a stab of irrational anger at such definitive loss of control. “You two, you’ve got this whole… this thing plotted out behind my back and you never even bothered to…”

“All due respect, Mr. President,” Stark steps closer, pushing far into his personal space, “you wanted to hire me because you heard that I’m the best at what I do. Right now you’re the guy with a large bullseye on your back and I’m your only chance of surviving into your next term. So it’s up to you, Mr. President. If you want to live, you come with me, you do as I say and when I say it. No questions, no arguments, no complaints. If not, you walk out of here with your man Phil and you take your chances in the shark pool. Understood?”

James grits his teeth, struggling against a near-overwhelming urge to break Stark’s nose.

“Twenty seconds, Mr. President,” Coulson calls out, and James closes his eyes briefly, forces himself to exhale, to relax.

“I don’t seem to have much choice at the moment,” he grinds out, admitting his temporary defeat. Takes a deliberate, threatening step toward Stark, bringing the two of them virtually nose to nose. “But let me make something clear, Mr. Stark: I don’t like your attitude and I don’t like you. And if you overstep your bounds with me one more time, I will not hesitate to punch you in the face. Understood?”

Stark flashes him a plastic-looking smile. “I think we’re gonna get along great, Mr. President,” he asserts with enthusiasm that seems entirely out of place. Heads to the door, pausing in front of Coulson. “You take care of my boy Happy there, alright?” he tells him, and it sounds more like a warning than a request.

Coulson, for his part, doesn’t bat an eye. “You take care of mine, I take care of yours,” he deadpans and Stark grins in response.

“It’s a deal.” He grabs the door handle, motions to James over his shoulder. “Mr. President, follow my lead.”

#tonyrhodey #ironhusbands #secret service au #special agent tony stark #president james rhodes #hurt/comfort #angst #intrigue #somethingjustsouthofbrilliance writes

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joeandtaylorfanfiction · 6 years

Text

Lessons (AU) | Submitted Anonymously

Chapter One: "It's nothing too complicated"

Taylor had been working non-stop during these last few weeks before the school Christmas break. There was so much to get done, the kids were rehearsing their Nativity play and Christmas Concert’s every other day now as well as making Christmas cards for parents and every possible relative they could think of. Taylor’s agonising day had been filled with twenty different five-year olds dressed as sheep walking around with glue sticks and cotton balls. The other teachers had no idea how she did it. Many times, they had called her a miracle worker. She always replied with a smile and a thank you.

At twenty-four years old, Taylor was the youngest full-time teacher in the school and was considered to be the best kindergarten teacher in the entire district. Half of the time Taylor didn’t even know how she worked so well with the younger kids, her Mother always said she had a very loving and caring nature which probably helped but Taylor put a lot down to having her helpful teaching assistant Jess, she never would be able to work in that class without her.

“So, who is the meeting with tonight?” Jess asked as she stood at the sink washing thirty sticky paintbrushes. She was a young woman taking a year during college to study as well as work in the teaching field. She was assigned to work with Taylor at the beginning of the school year and luckily, they hit it off straight away, Jess hoped to be as good with her own class of kids one day as Taylor was.

“Um, Poppy’s Dad I think. He should be here anytime now.” It was just approaching 4:30pm, the kids had been let out of school just over an hour ago so clean up was almost complete. Taylor had the meeting with Poppy’s Dad and then she was going to stay and correct some of the work the kids had done. She loved going through their work, reading their little sentences, their adorable little mistakes. Those were always the highlight of her evenings.

“Her Dad? Never seen him before.” Thinking about it, Taylor didn’t think she’d ever seen him either, Poppy was always picked up and dropped by a young girl. She was definitely too young to be her Mother. Taylor assumed her to be a nanny, which within this area of London it was not surprising.

“Me either, wouldn’t even know he existed if Poppy didn’t talk about him.”

Joe jumped in his chauffeur driven car at exactly four thirty, he was late and he knew it. That was a regular thing, it normally didn’t matter too much, as long as he was home for Poppy’s bath and bedtime. Joe had had a rather big meeting with some of his clients it had been organised last week so everything would all fit but of course it all ran over. He thought he would be able to finish up his work meeting by four take the twenty-minute trip across London and be there early but alas that would no longer work, especially with rush hour creeping in.

Joe was the owner of one of the biggest accountancy firms in the UK, he had founded his company whilst still in university. It started slowly but became hugely successful just after he graduated highest in his class with a first degree in accountancy. Then his world got thrown upside down when his girlfriend fell pregnant with Poppy, she had told him that she couldn’t keep her and she wasn’t ready. Although he knew ultimately it wasn’t his choice, he couldn’t stand the idea of aborting or giving away his baby, she was part of him. Something he had always wanted. Joe had pleaded with her on the phone one evening begging her not to get rid of the baby. After three hours, she had finally agreed as long as he looked after her, alone.

Over the course of those next nine months Joe finally spent some of his money and moved out of his parents’ house to one just down the road still in North London. He had just finished building the castle for his princess before she then decided to make an entrance into the world three weeks early. Poppy spent a few days of her life in the ICU before coming home, those few days in the hospital were anything but easy for Joe. He would go to visit her in the mornings and the evenings, with his office a five-minute drive away he would sometimes go during his lunch break too. Finally, when Poppy did come home he worked three days a week in his home office. His Mum stayed at the house for a few weeks just to help with sorting a schedule, Joe was very grateful for that. His Mum was and has always been one of his best friends.

“Mr Alwyn” Joe’s chauffer looked back in the mirror, implying they had reached the destination.

“Thank you, Jack” Joe smiled back, he opened the car door and looked down at his watch. ‘Only twenty minutes late, well done, not like this is important or anything’ he thought to himself. He hated how this made him look, he’d never even met Poppy’s teacher, what a terrible first impression. He quickly ran to the gate and was buzzed in by the reception staff.

“Are you Mr Alwyn? You want Miss Swift’s classroom, it’s the yellow one with bumblebees on the door.” The receptionist knew who he was straight away, they must have been made aware he was coming. Joe walked along the brightly coloured corridors with paintings and displays all over the place. It suddenly occurred to him that he had only ever been inside this school once and that was during an open evening. A wave of guilt hit him, the reality that he was missing his daughter grow up had just begun to sink in when he spotted the bright yellow door. It was labelled in big purple letters ‘Miss Swift’.

Taylor was halfway through singing a song from the radio when she heard a knock at the already cracked open door.

“Hi, I’m Poppy’s Father” the blonde man grinned looking down at her sat at the desk.

“Oh, please come in, have a seat.” His appearance was very neat, his hair was exceptionally blonde much like his daughters, she clearly took after him genetically. He was dressed in a black suit with a navy-blue tie and black work shoes.

“Sorry I’m late, I was held up at work.” Taylor momentarily wondered what he did, she could tell he was well off, clearly something in business. Possibly something with the stocks like her Father. She remembered her Dad getting home from work every day around 6pm just in time for a delicious dinner her Mother had made.

“It’s no problem, by the time I’ve cleaned up and checked the kids work I’m normally here until five thirty.” There was a slight pause for a moment before the blonde spoke again, “I’m Miss Swift by the way!” She smiled as her eyes quickly shifted to Jess who was tidying up the books in the corner of the room. She silently mouthed something to her but Taylor couldn’t make it out. Her eyes moved back to his piercing blue ones. They were a blue she had never seen before, like an ocean she could just fall into.

“Joe” he replied sitting down in the seat. He was thankful it was an adult chair, all the others in the classroom were two inches from the ground and no way could his over six-foot frame sit on one of those.

“Well Mr Alwyn I’ve been calling a few parents in just to discuss what will be happening over the next few months after Christmas. Basically, in the new year we will begin some more academic studies. Nothing to crazy or drastic of course, they are only five. From spending time with Poppy it’s easy to see she is exceptionally bright. This especially in reading and writing, her language skills are in fact very advanced for her age.”

“She loves to read, that’s our thing. If I’m not home in time for a bedtime story, I get in trouble!” he chucked and Taylor smiled. He noticed how pretty she was when she smiled, well she was pretty anyway but there was something about her happiness, it radiated, like sunshine.

“Let me show you something” she quickly got up from her chair and walked towards the other woman in the corner of the room. Joe took this time to admire her appearance. She wore a pink floral patterned sun dress, it matched her red lipstick. She was tall and had blonde wavy hair that fell half way down her back. She was very beautiful, Poppy had once described her as looking like a princess, she wasn’t wrong. He continued to stare at her until her voice suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Poppy wrote this today and I thought you might like to see it” Taylor passed Joe a piece of paper which read ‘I love my Daddy. I like it when we read together.’ Along with it was a crayon drawn picture of who he assumed was him reading with Poppy. He smiled looking down at the paper, his little girl was his everything, from day one. He hated that he couldn’t always be there but knowing she made things like this put him at ease.

“She absolutely adores you. Raves about you. You know I get a lot of kids who talk about their Mum’s and even their pets but you’re the only Dad.” Taylor interrupted his thoughts. Being a full-time Dad and running his own business was extremely difficult and he knew how lucky he was to get the help he does. Abbie was his saviour, she was a family friend who became Poppy’s nanny when she started pre-school and Joe began working in the office again. Joe had known the nineteen-year-old since she herself was five so he trusted her completely with his angel. Abbie would tell Joe all the time how much Poppy talked about him. He was her Mum and Dad in one, something he would never change for the world.

“Now whilst she is unbelievably gifted in reading and writing, math is something she seems to struggle with. She’s not bad at it, it’s just we will be working a lot quicker and on some new things which might trip her up. It might be worth you or anyone at home just working with her a little to try to get her confidence up with working at a faster pace.” Joe couldn’t seem to concentrate when she spoke, he was enamoured by her. He found himself just staring at her porcelain skin and perfect facial structure.

“Of course, I’ll sit down with her on the weekends or her nanny can go through some things after school.” Joe was surprised she struggled in math, Poppy had never mentioned it, he clearly didn’t hand down his mathematic talent.

“Great! It’s nothing too complicated and you really don’t need to worry. She just finds adding and subtracting double-digit numbers a little tricky.” Joe nodded leaning forward in his chair as Taylor pulled out a small booklet of equations. She handed it to him, their hands briefly touched before he placed it inside his suit jacket pocket.

The pair talked for a little longer until Taylor turned back to her desk and began looking through some paper, she was hoping it looked like she was looking for something but really she was stalling. She hated these parent and teacher meetings, she was an awkward person in general and most of her conversations were with five-year olds so talking to the parents wasn’t really her strong suit. For some reason, she felt intimidated by Joe. To say he was attractive would be an understatement and his suit really helped the fact.

“Um, I think that’s all I really have to say…” Taylor rambled turning back to face him.

“Oh, great! Thank you, did you need this or-” Joe passed Taylor back the drawing Poppy had made of him, their hands brushed one another again.

“Oh no no, that’s yours stick to the fridge, frame it, she would love that.” She refused the piece of paper and smiled at him. She couldn’t help it, for some reason she just wanted to smile at him.

“She would. I’ll do that, thank you!” Joe reached for her hand and gently shook it, he momentarily lost himself in her blue eyes but suddenly realised he had been holding her hand for much longer than would be considered normal and released his grip. In that one moment, he was completely and utterly memorized by her. He broke his stare and began walking to the door. “Thanks again, have a good night Miss Swift” he mumbled before closing the door behind him.

“Oh, my gosh he was so hot!” Jess excitedly whispered worried he could still hear from the corridor. But Taylor was so deep in her thoughts she could barely hear her. She had no idea what just happened. Never in her life had someone made her so nervous or awestruck, not even when she had to teach with the principal in the classroom. “And he was totally checking you out” Jess’ comment snapped Taylor out of her thoughts.

“He was not” Taylor got up from her desk as she shook her head and laughed. She began to place her stuff back in her bag, trying to hide her bright red blushing cheeks.

“Listen, when you got up, he practically undressed you with his eyes and you were definitely doing the same, don’t even try to deny it” Jess walked closer toward Taylor, looked her dead in the eyes and smiled when she saw Taylor was blushing profusely. Jess continued to taunt Taylor for the rest of the evening until they finally both left at about five forty-five.

Joe got back to his house around five forty, his meeting with Miss Swift had lasted just over half an hour. He didn’t have time to process anything before Poppy came running up to him and flung herself around his neck. This was a nightly thing, every evening when he came home from work she always jumped on him enjoying his piggyback rides. With Poppy still clinging to his back, he walked into the kitchen to find Abbie cleaning up plates from her and Poppy’s dinner. Joe thanked her and insisted she should go home and he would finish cleaning later.

“Did you have a good day monkey?” Joe said as he gently picked her up and carried her to the living room. Poppy nodded and began to tell him all about her day at school talking about her friends and how Abbie had gotten her ice cream that evening.

Poppy was the spitting image of her Father, she had long blonde hair with a slight curl which went all the way down to her waist and the most electric blue eyes. Her smile could light up a room and her laugh was Joe’s favourite sound. Although difficult at first, ever since she was born she brightened his world. She was so precious and innocent he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone ever hurting her. Abbie had helpfully already bathed and dressed Poppy in her Beauty and The Beast pyjamas so she was ready for bed, normally Joe would do that but because of the meeting at school he didn’t make it back in time.

Both Joe and Poppy were now sat huddled together on the couch as he began to tell Poppy about his meeting with Miss Swift.

“I met your teacher today she-” Joe began but was interrupted by a shriek of happiness.

“Miss Swift? Isn’t she like a princess?” Poppy’s eyes sparkled with excitement, she really was absolutely enchanted by the woman.

“Yes, she is but she said you are having trouble with some math. So, she gave me this and said you and I can do these together at the weekend!” Joe pulled out the booklet of simple math equations from his inside jacket pocket to show the five-year-old.

“Ugh math is hard” the little girl briefly flicked through the booklet rolling her eyes.

“I know but I will help you and trust me it’ll be lots of fun. Now let’s read a story and get you to bed so you’re not tired tomorrow!” Poppy whined in response, throwing her dead-weight self into her Dad’s lap with her arms and legs flailed in all different directions. Joe laughed at his daughter as he awkwardly picked her up and carried her to her room. He opened the bright pink door with his foot and placed her down gently in her queen-sized bed. Poppy quickly snuggled down with her stuffed toy bunny.

“Can we have the princess book?” Joe nodded of course, and pulled the book from the rather large pink bookcase in the corner. He laid down next to his little girl wrapping his arm around her small frame and holding the book in front of them both. Poppy and Joe both took turns each reading a few pages. It was the story of a princess who did not want to be a princess, she didn’t like dresses or crowns or acting like a lady. Poppy thought it was so funny, it was one of her favourites and they read it at least once a week.

After they finished the book Joe lay there for a while with Poppy in his arms stroking her hair. This was his favourite moment of the day. He got to be with the person he loved most, he loved watching her. She made the cutest little faces, he saw so much of himself within her. His Mum told him all the time how much she was like him when he was younger. It was safe to say, he never imagined his life to be like this but now he wouldn’t have it any other way. The only thing being that from now on he would try to spend more time with her during the week, he could see it even more now she was in school, she was growing up so fast, too fast and he couldn’t stand it.

“Night angel” Joe placed a short kiss on Poppy’s forehead and made his way out, he made sure to turn her nightlight on before closing the door behind him.

Joe walked back downstairs towards the kitchen gearing up to clean the dinner plates and cutlery which Abbie had left in the sink. He had just turned the water on when his phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket and saw it was his Mother. He quickly shut the water off and answered it.

“Hi Mum” he leant backwards on the kitchen counter running his free hand through his blonde hair.

“Hi Honey, how was your meeting with Poppy’s teacher?” the cheerful woman asked.

“Oh that, it was great” he smiled to himself as Miss Swift’s face briefly popped into his head as he continued speaking, “Her teacher just gave me some extra math problems, she said Poppy has been struggling a little but it’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s good, you’ll be able to go through those with her or even Abbie might be able to help her. Now, are you coming to the Christmas Concert tomorrow? I know you hadn’t quite made up your mind, you weren’t sure how much work you would have.” The Christmas Concert was a small production the school held each year, they had all the kids singing Christmas carols whilst completely messing up every rehearsed hand action. It was sweet, Joe had never attended but his Mum and Dad went to watch last year when Poppy participated with the pre-school.

“I forgot about that” Joe paused for a moment. “But yeah, I’ll come, I’ll surprise Pop!” It saddened him that Poppy assumed now that he wouldn’t be able to attend things at school but it meant when he did show up, it became even more special.

“She’ll love that! I’ll make sure to save you a seat. Now, how are you?” His Mother seemed concerned, she knew he worked so hard and he was a great Father but he isolated himself. He seemed to find it difficult to go out with friends because he had Poppy to look after whereas a lot of other guys his age or men he worked with had no responsibilities. A fair few of them had girlfriends and fiancé’s but no kids.

“I’m good, just a lot going on at work, I was late for the meeting at the school today, I felt awful, she said it was fine but you know I hate being late.” Joe huffed feeling a little defeated.

“I do, Poppy’s teacher is very lovely though. I’m sure she didn’t mind.”

Joe and his Mother spoke for another half an hour before deciding they both needed to go to bed. They wrapped up the conversation and said a quick goodbye, Joe thanked her for reminding him about the concert and said he would see her tomorrow.

He slid his phone into his back pocket and yawned. Joe had gotten up at around five thirty that morning to get ready for the day. He was used to that by now, but it was getting Poppy up which is always the hardest. Poppy was definitely not a morning person, neither was Joe to be fair but she had to be practically dragged out of bed, it was one of the many traits she seemed to have picked up from him.

Joe walked slowly into the living room and sat down on the large L-shaped couch. He grabbed the TV remote and switched Poppy’s children’s channels to Netflix. He decided to watch a new show he had read about in the newspaper whilst in the car on the way to work that morning. It wasn’t something he was hugely interested in but he wanted something new to binge watch. Joe’s evenings were quite lonely after Poppy had gone to bed, his Mum would call but it wasn’t the same as having someone to share a bottle of wine and watch TV with. Joe ended up watching one episode of the show before falling asleep half way through the second one, his heavy eyes finally giving into the sleep after the busy day.

This fic was submitted anonymously through messages as the writer did not want their Tumblr url to be noted. (feel free to message me if you want to submit something anonymously)

#submitted #taylor and joe fanfiction #series #AU #dad joe #teacher taylor #meeting

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caughtred90 · 3 years

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Yesterday was aweful. My anxiety has been through the roof. I managed to get my father an appointment to get his first dose of the covid vaccine. The clinic was two hours away and we would have to Island hop. I was incredibly nervous about the whole thing. Since my dad's last stroke he's been hearing and speach impaired. He doesn't think anything is wrong with him though, and gets pissy when I try to help him do things. He also hates needles. At first, he refused to go. He didn't want a shot. Then he agreed but refused to change out of his pajamas. He's got bad hips and knees so I helped him get into the car. When we were halfway there I asked him if he has his ID just to be sure. He still considers himself capable and independent and always brings his wallet with him. Apparently not this time though. I called the clinic and they confirmed they cannot see him without ID. It was a blow. I worry about him so much and thought this was the first step to feeling a little safer. On the bright side that particular drive is one of the most beautiful you can have. When I got home I started making dinner and asked my daughter's to put the roosters back in their pen. They came back with a rooster I had put a no crow collar on earlier in the day. He was still acting out because of it. I told them he's fine, but if they are worried they could put him in a kennel in the garage. What I hadn't realized was the garage door was open. It stayed open all night. The rooster wasn't in the kennel this morning. Who knows what happened or where he went. I finally broke down and made an appointment for a blood draw. The fatigue I have is overwhelming. I can barely keep my eyes open. This isn't a new thing for me. I've struggled with it for most of my life. Every time I go to the doctors they tell me nothing is wrong, or to get more sleep. The last time I tried to get help the doctor told me if there's and issue it's not medical.... That was after my mysterious illness. I've always had issues with fatigue and feeling lethargic, but a few years ago it started to get worse. I wrote it off thinking it must be because I'm working in construction. That work takes a lot out of anyone. Then I thought maybe it's the long commute ect. I wouldn't go to the doctors because I knew they wouldn't find anything wrong. The fatigue got worse. It didn't matter how much I slept, or how much water I drank. It just got worse. Then I started to get a pain on my left side that got worse when I inhaled. One day I was so exhausted as I walked to my car after work. After I sat down I realized I didn't have the strength to even drive. I sat there for an hour before I felt like I might be able to make it home. The drive was agony. I decided that night to go to the walk in clinic. I told the doctor other than fatigue my only symptom is the pain in my side that was really bad now. My only guess to a cause was a kidney infection, that I had had many times, but that would be strange since I didn't have any uti symptoms. Plus, the pain was more in the front of me. Since the uti test came back negative he ordered a basic blood panel. He also scheduled me for a ct scan to take a look at my left side. A few days later when all the tests came back I got a call from the doctor first thing in the morning. He sounded concerned and asked if I was ok. He said my liver panels were elevated to the point most people would be in the ICU. The ct showed my spleen was so enlarged it could burst at any moment. I told him other than fatigue I was fine. I chose to go into the doctor office every day for blood draws instead of checking myself into the hospital. Every blood draw they would test for new things. I was tested for everything you could imagine. All types of hepatitis, HIV, lupus, chrones, every STI and testable disease they could. Everything came back negative. After a few months my liver panels started to come down. After about nine months my panels were normal, and my spleen had gone down to an acceptable size. Once that happened though all tests stopped. They told me they were

comfortable saying I was exposed to an unknown virus or toxin. The fatigue wasn't gone though. I was still miserable. Like the doctor said, it must just be in my head.

#fatigue #overwhelmed #blood draw #all in my head

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teejdunc · 3 years

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The Quarter Life Crisis

Well I don't really know what I'm doing so bare with me.

24 has been a HARD year. If you know me, you know that this year was by far the toughest year of my life. In fact, I actually think I cried more this year than I have all of the other years combined (go ahead and laugh).

MARCH

CORONA VIRRRRRRUSSS...

I should actually start with the dreaded break up.. or let go, I should say. We had been broken up but had been on and off in private. I had been hanging on to something I knew was not only bad for me but was never going to work. I had poured my heart into someone who was never going to pour back into me. My heart had never experience so much pain. No matter what I did or where I went, there was a piece of us there. It was a passing pick up, a song on the radio or just the smell in the air. I was frozen in time and I wasn’t getting over it.. I couldn’t eat, I couldn't sleep, I had no interest in any of the things that used to bring me happiness. Most every night for close to 3 months I cried myself to sleep. I didn’t feel like Taylor anymore, I was a stranger living in my own body.

We’ll call this part of 24, “sad girl hours”.

Fast forward to summer...

JULY

In July, my dad was consistently having chest pain. We found out he had severe blockage and would need to have surgery. After hours at the doctor’s they sent him home with nitro incase he had a heart-attack before scheduled surgery. I had been out with my friends that night but I was in bed early and I just remember hearing my moms footsteps running down the hallway, I already knew.

I remember frantically asking what I needed to do and just feeling my whole head rush, like everything around me was spinning and I was helpless. We got dad to the car and mom rushed him to the ER. I called two of my closest friends and they met me at the ER. When I pulled up they were already sitting there waiting. I got into the pick up and I lost all composure I was balling like a baby. It didn't take them long to wrap me up and tell me that they were here for me and that things were going to be okay.

Due to COVID, we were not allowed to enter the hospital so we went home. (the story might be altered a little here... if you know the whole night’s story please keep it to yourself).

I think it was around 4:30 when I finally made it back to my parents house and I was so exhausted but I couldn’t sleep. I sat in the living room wide awake, absolutely terrified for what tomorrow was going to bring.

Dad entered into surgery and had some complications and had to be in ICU for close to a month. I remember getting a call from mom and I was in sheer panic. I just kept thinking “HOW CAN THIS BE HAPPENING TO ME? Why did it have to be MY dad?” I was so angry and hurt inside. I drove to the First Baptist parking lot and I sat there and I prayed and I told God that if he could heal my dad I wouldn’t ever ask for anything again. I remember just feeling so lost and helpless.

I was trying to do the best I could to stay strong for mom. I did what I could at the house and tried to convince myself it was enough.

In all of the chaos my mom stood strong and never waivered, just like an oak tree. They don’t tell you that seeing your parents hurt, hurts you more than physically being hurt. I wouldn’t wish this kind of hurt on my worst enemy.

After a LONG road and what has felt like a million days.. dad is doing so much better. PRAISE THE LORD!!

I realized in all of this that I was never alone. I didn't make it through this by myself. I had my friends surrounding me and supporting me in the ways they knew how. For some it was a text, a phone call, or showing up just to drive around so that I wasn’t alone.

If you were one of these people, you know who you are...

From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU.

AUGUST

My grandpa had a heart attack.

SEPTEMBER

I started a new job teaching kindergarten at a new school with a new team.

Kinder is CRaZY!!

God sure knew what he was doing when he placed me at HP. I needed the spark for teaching to be re-lit within me. My team is wonderful and I feel like I finally found “my place”.

OCTOBER

One of my friends took his own life.

In October, I had a conversation with my old ag teacher who had called to let me know he had cancer. He told me he was so proud of me and we laughed about the things some of my friends and I did in class. I sat there and talked on the phone with him and couldn't help but drown in the thoughts that this man who had made HUGE impacts in not only my life but THOUSANDS of others, was sick.

I just kept asking myself “Why is everyone I love hurting? Why is God doing this to me?”

THE BIG “D” and the semi colon...

I got a tattoo on my wrist (sorry mom) as a daily reminder.

The tattoo reads “ ; hold on”

I would have never wanted something so “socially embarrassing” on my body a year ago.

It’s not embarrassing anymore... depression is a REAL thing and suicide is REAL.

I laid in the floor several nights during the summer and wondered if things were ever going to feel “normal” again.

Don’t worry... nothing last forever. Not even your sadness!

But I needed a visable reminder, on my body, where I could remind myself every. single. day.

The semi colon symbolizes the place where the author had the chance to stop, but merely paused. This is used as the symbol for suicide and depression awareness. The words hold on have many meanings for me.

Hold onto faith

Hold onto love

Hold onto the people who get you through

Hold onto self worth

Hold on... because better days are coming!

NOVEMBER

In November, my ag teacher passed away. I took off work to make the funeral but I got sick and I had to stay in Amarillo. I had taken two days off, but decided to go back since I was feeling better. I was on lunch break when I got on my phone to look at Facebook when I saw that one of my friends had been in a car accident and had passed away.

WHY WERE BAD THINGS HAPPENING TO GOOD PEOPLE?

I couldn’t make rash of anything in my life and I was, without a doubt angry at God.

I hit a LOW point in my life.

No amount of “I’m fine” was going to cover this up.

I really was lost as to how to get back to myself...

I went home for Thanksgiving break and well that was a disaster, I’ll leave it at that.

DECEMBER

I returned to work for the final weeks before Christmas break. I spent most of the days corralling Kindergarteners and wishing the days would pass faster.

Finally... CHRISTMAS BREAK.

I went home and found something I had been needing.

I got to hug my parents for the first time since JULY! ( yeah yeah, I’m still a little kid at heart)

I was able to rekindle a friendship with someone who I had gone separate ways from. Little did I know this was going to be the BEST thing to happen to me. We spent several days hanging out, singing at the tops of our lungs, laughing and making up for lost time. It was like we never missed a beat, we picked right back up where we had left off.

I am not certain of a lot, but I do know that God doesn’t make mistakes.

I needed this friendship and she did too.

I also needed my “Picture to Burn” singing partner back in my life and that's just what I got!

PS, you know who you are. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

JANUARY

Still CORONA VIRUS...

January I saw the neurologist. The doctors thought I had narcolepsy and that it was what was causing my excessive sleepiness and seizures.

I had to go to the hospital and have an MRI and an EEG to see if they could figure out what was going on.

LET ME TELL YOU I AM TERRIFIED OF SMALL SPACES... that brain MRI was enough trauma for me for a lifetime!

NOT MY CUP OF TEA, LOL.

FEBRUARY

I got my results back from the MRI and the EEG, everything was CLEAR. PRAISE JESUS!

I will still have to have a sleep study done but hey... a sleep disorder is way better than what we originally thought!

THE END OF 24

I turn 25 in 12 days... not quite sure I’m ready to accept that my twenties are halfway over.

24 WAS A LEARNING YEAR, the good and the bad.

I have learned a lot about myself. I am strong. I am independent. I am capable. I am loved. I am important. I make a difference. EVEN on the days I don’t feel that way.

I have friends and family who would move mountains for me.

I have a GOD who is unstoppable and faithful to his promises.

I have weathered the storms I thought I couldn’t and came out stronger.

I have doubted God in many moments of my life but I am certain that his plan is FAR greater than I could ever imagine.

So while 24 may have bruised and battered me, it did not break me.

CHEERS TO 25 YEARS, my friends.

Isaiah 43:2

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.

Psalm 34:17-20

When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all. He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken.

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midwesternorcprincess · 6 years

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now that i’m back and... halfway recovered, let me tell you the woes that befell me once i got home from school. it’s a long tale and a bad one.

DAY ONE

day after i got home, we drove up to Chicago to take my sister to the airport. she’s been going the last two summers to England to see her boyfriend, right. drive over there was hell. family relations were... strained. but we got her on the flight finally and i was looking forward to having a break. mom and dad i drove through La Grange, where we used to live, to get food. ran into our old neighbors and talked a couple hours, had a great time. i said to myself, that was a good thing to have happened. it’s good for my parents to remember who they were, once.

leaving Chicago, out on the highway. the car starts making this horrible knocking sound right the fuck out of nowhere and makes signs that it’s not going to drive any farther. dad pulls over. opens the hood. can’t tell what’s wrong, but there’s no way it’s starting up again. we’re stuck there, in the black of night, in a crappy area.

we call every towing company we can find. none - NONE - will look at us on a Saturday night. call again on Monday, they tell us. we call the old neighbors. they don’t pick up. as a last resort we call the police. they tell us they’ll help. two hours pass, nothing. thousands and thousands of cars race by, police, tow trucks. our hazards are on and the hood is up. no one stops. here in Indiana, someone would have stopped long ago.

we call a hotel. they give us another towing number, but they say their driver is busy so they’ll have to get back to us.

a state policeman finally comes. gives us yet another number who will tow us. gonna be 200-something. we don’t have that much money. first towing number calls back. they’ll come for us, but only have room for one of us. policeman says he can take two of us to the hotel, so mom and i go and leave dad with the car.

mom and i get to the hotel. course, we don’t have enough money to stay there. my aunt gives us her credit card number and info and calls and everything, but they won’t take that cause she’s not there personally. they do take that online, though. we book through Expedia and they charge us up a lot, but at least we have a room for the night.

few hours later dad gets there. the battery had finally died and the hazard lights shut off. how the tow truck found him without crashing into him i don’t know. now what? that’s a problem for tomorrow.

DAY TWO

six in the morning, i get a message from my sister. she’s been denied entry to the UK and is being sent back to Chicago. gotta pick her up tonight. what the FUCK

call around about the car. no one would lift a finger on Saturday, sure as hell not gonna do it on Sunday. there’s a Hyundai dealer (we have a Sonata) nearby. they tell us they’ll look at it Tuesday.

mom and dad call the neighbors again. they offer to drive dad to the airport so he can get my sister. it was lucky that we’d run into them.

my sister returns that night and we hear her tale of woe. she had flown into Dublin. you can go through customs there and then straight on to London, because Ireland and the UK are bros or whatever. she had done this before and found the officials in Ireland much nicer to deal with than the ones in the UK, as she told her boyfriend’s mom in a message. but this time - oh, this makes me madder than fire - this asshole official accused her of trying to come to the UK to work illegally. which she absolutely had no inkling of doing. he took her phone and looked through her messages and everything and found the one to her boyfriend’s mom and said, HA! see, here you are trying to sneak in. well, that was just not what she was doing at all. she likes nicer officials because she’s human and humans like nice people.

of course she’s getting very anxious trying to explain all this - she’s only 18 after all, and this came right the fuck out of nowhere - and this official. he SAID TO HER: “you’re nervous because you’re lying and you’re guilty.” then he said, “I’ll give you one last chance to tell the truth, if you want entry to the UK.” well, my sister had been telling the truth the whole time. what did he want her to do? lie? well, she wasn’t going to do it. she told the truth again, which is more than this official had been doing - lying and twisting everything around, trying to get a guilty plea out of this kid for something she wasn’t even doing. anyway like i said, she told the truth again, and was finally denied. i would have thought she could talk to an embassy or something, but he told her the decision was final and she couldn’t talk to anyone - maybe that was a lie too, but who knows. she certainly was in no position to try. can can never go back to Ireland now, unless she gets a visa approved from the UK..

they put her in some tiny room to wait, and she started crying then, now that she was alone. asshole official comes back and tells her to stop crying. if there was a hell, this man would be burning in it.

so they sent her right back to Chicago. she was lucky, though, compared to some other young girls she met there who were also turned away. one girl was from Toronto, and there were no flights back that day. they threw her in jail until the next flight.

they told her they were sending her luggage back separately. probably they had to search through it and find something they could use against her. of course they found nothing, because there was nothing, because everything she had done was legal and right. but anyway they gave a piece of paper with a tracking number and a phone number to call about it.

where is mom’s insulin?

DAY THREE

we’re getting really fed up with all this. it’s really too much. and you may be wondering what’s become of our dog and cat and newborn kittens at home. mom and dad grill Hyundai and they agree to look at the car a day early.

no one back home has a key to the house, so we have my aunt break in to feed the pets. while she’s there, the cat gets out and disappears.

Hyundai calls back. turns out our car had a recall because people’s engines were failing. actually there were several recalls on it, but ours was the engine. hell of a time to fail on us. so they’re ordering a new engine. ten to fourteen days, they tell us.

ten to fourteen days! now you listen here -

- the cat came back -

- we can’t stay here ten to fourteen days. we’re five hours from home. have animals. we have an insulin-dependent diabetic. we have no money. we have no change of clothes. we have no relatives with a car capable of making a trip to Chicago. what are we supposed to do for ten to fourteen days? our family can’t even support us that long. not my problem, says Hyundai.

mom calls like, Hyundai central, not this particular dealership, customer service or whatever. they tell us we’re entitled to a loaner car from Hyundai, since this whole situation was their fault and all. armed with this information, mom calls the dealer back. but they won’t give us a car because we’re from out of state.

we call around every rental car place we can find, but no luck there either, because of the credit card issue.

still got that luggage to worry about. we call the number on the paper and describe the bags to them, and they call back a little later and say they’ve found it and will keep it in a safe place. we don’t have a way to get to the airport, though.

mom’s insulin is nowhere to be found - i swear to god, she can’t go one day without losing something important, it’s probably out on the side of the highway somehow - and even if it was, she’d be out by now. this was supposed to be a day trip. we don’t have the cash to buy any. no one will take our credit card. she has to call the ambulance and go to the hospital. turns out her blood sugar is over 800 - death level and i think a record for her - so she’s in the ICU for a while.

guess what? the hotel’s booked for the night. so’s the one next door. so is everyone in walking distance. where can we go now?

we find another hotel that will take my aunt’s credit card once she fills out a form and faxes it to them, and use our rapidly dwindling cash to call a cab there. the guy drives us to the wrong place and then accuses my dad of giving him the wrong address. he didn’t, but no one has the will to fight a cab driver. so we get to the hotel after being cheated and charged extra.

we call the airport to see if they can send us my sister’s luggage. they tell us the luggage is lost.

my aunt wires us some cash. we go up to our room and turn on the TV. on the news, a car has just crashed into the Western Union. i’m officially losin my goddamn mind

meanwhile, the only way we can get food is to order through online sites like Grubhub. cause of the credit card issue. so we’re not starving, at least.

guess what! new month, phone’s shutting off. this would have been a death sentence if my aunt hadn’t paid that for us too.

DAY FOUR

Hyundai calls. they expedited our request to not die out here, i guess, so they tell us the engine will be in tomorrow now.

cause i’m so paranoid for disaster - gotta be, with my life - i actually do bring my medicine everywhere. but even i gotta run out sometime, and that’s today. my dad says we already got three crazy people without their meds, we can’t lose the last sane one. he calls around and finds the nearest pharmacy is in the Target a mile away. he walks there and talks them into taking my prescription. since i have the Indiana healthcare plan and we’re in Illinois, they make us pay for it, though. he only has cash enough for two pills. it’s just an antidepressant, but i get BAD withdrawal if i miss more than a day. shaking and hallucinating, that kind of thing. but i get to keep my mind now for a few more days.

my sister starts her period. i would be so fucking pissed. really, uterus???

we call about the luggage again. they tell us it’s still lost. we suspect they’re just looking at the tracing number on the computer - which we can easily check ourselves - and not bothering to get up and look. we try to tell them this and about how they called us back the other day and told us they found it, but we keep getting people that barely speak English and either don’t understand us or are pretending and just don’t want to deal with it.

we try to talk to mom, but she barely answers her phone, and when she does there’s always some nurse or doctor or someone in there bothering her - i swear to god, i think they kill people by not giving them a moment’s peace - and if she does call back she’s kinda loopy. blood sugar will do that to you, but it’s very disheartening.

DAY FIVE

my aunt tells us she’s wired the cash to the nearest Western Union, which luckily is in the Walgreens a mile away and not the one the car drove into. dad walks all the way there - i would do this if i could, he’s really too old and not in great shape to be walking this far, but all this shit is under his name - and guess what they tell him? they need some obscure number no one bothered to tell us about. he calls my aunt, but she’s at an appointment an hour from home and doesn’t have the number. she calls her bank, but they won’t give it to her. so dad has to walk all the way back empty-handed and try again later.

the airport continues to be completely useless about finding the luggage.

my sister slips in the bathroom and hurts her ankle.

my aunt gets back home, sends my dad the number, he walks back to Walgreens and returns with the cash. i guess it could have been worse. this could have happened in July and not May. if it happens again when I go to Norway, it’ll be in July.

it’s dinner time and whoops, the card suddenly doesn’t work. we call my aunt. she calls the bank, the bank says the card is fine and good to go. it still doesn’t work.

closest food is Denny’s. we’re lucky to have enough cash now. it’s a pleasant enough walk at night in May except it’s over this really rough scrubland. dad and i manage well enough but my sister has a rough time of it with her ankle. and also her open-toed-shoes. you know, that she’d worn on the plane. you know, cause she wasn’t expecting to be falsely accused of a crime, sent back, and had her luggage lost. anyway she gets a thorn in her foot.

the car isn’t fixed, but i hadn’t expected it to be. i know better than to hope.

dad gets really sick at about 2 am. he hasn’t had his medicines for days and it’s really fuckin him up. also he’s kinda havin a nervous breakdown. we know it’s a panic attack, but there’s no telling that to the body. we’re on the verge of another ambulance bill.

i call my aunt. she’s at a loss. she calls my cousin. cousin thinks fast and adds us on a family Uber account. saves our asses. none of us has ever taken an Uber before, but dad takes an Uber to the hospital and later confirms that it is a much better experience than taking a cab

so now i’m on my own. well, with my sister, but the task of adulthood falls to me. and we’re here with not much cash, a credit card that doesn’t work, and no idea where we’re going to go now.

DAY SIX

dad calls in the morning. he’s fine and back with my mom, but she’s been yelling at him all day. never heard her be so mean before.

airport tells us the same bullshit about the luggage being lost. there’s really irreplaceable shit in there. her best clothes. all her makeup. teddy bear that she got when she and her boyfriend first met. stuff from her birth father, who’s dead now. but anyway they can’t be bothered to check on it.

Hyundai says our car will be ready in the afternoon. hotel will be kicking us out soon. we pack all our shit - which is actually not too much since we came with pretty much the shirts on our backs - and take an Uber to the hospital. can also confirm that Uber is totally fine. don’t fear to use it if you have need.

things are tense, but at least dad’s cousin calls. he lives like an hour away and has heard of our plight and offers what help he can. he comes and takes my dad and my sister to the airport to deal with the luggage issue in person. it is, in fact, not lost, but in the safe place. like they told us the first day. so they got that.

mom is released from the hospital. Hyundai calls and says the car is done. dad’s cousin comes and gets us, we all cram into his tiny ass car, and he takes us to the dealership. he’s a Mensch.

they give us the damn car, all the recalled parts replaced, and we finally get the fuck out of there.

I’m really... not quite ok after this experience. it was financially ruinous. Hyundai will pay us back a hundred bucks a day, which is maybe half the cost if we’re being generous. it cost our relationships - i get along with everyone, but the three of them are still not ok with each other and i don’t know if they will be. it cost my parents’ health. i don’t think i realized before just... how much they’re not able to do what they once were able to.

i’m just feeling a total lack of hope. it seems like i can’t come home without some disaster or other happening, but this string of just everything possible going wrong - i don’t know how i’ll survive another one. i’m trying to relax now that i’m home, but i’m dreading every day that comes for me because i feel like it’s inevitable. i feel secondhand trauma from just hearing about how my sister was treated in Ireland. i’m terrified now about going to Norway and can barely stomach the thought just now.

our family saved our asses, but it’s not like they’re gonna be around forever. if you’re in that situation and don’t have some relative with enough money to bail you out, you are completely and utterly alone. there is no help for you. i don’t know where we would have gone, if we would just have died there on the road since we couldn’t afford to be towed. or on the street somewhere if we couldn’t afford the hotel.

you know how they say it’s so expensive to be poor? truer words were never spoke. had we been able to afford our own credit card, we could have rented a car, driven ourselves home, and saved five days and a thousand dollars, plus whatever medical bills we’ll have now.

i’m trying to pick myself up and i hope i’ll still be able to go to Norway, but i’m just so afraid of seeing tomorrow. i wish there was a lesson here besides don’t be poor and don’t drive a car and don’t go out of state and don’t try to go to another country and don’t be sick, but... i don’t know.

i guess i can tell you that the people on the phone at O’Hare are completely fucking useless and you’ll have to deal with them inside if you want anything done. maybe that will save you some pains in the future. don’t hope, though. probably can’t afford it.

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ughandalso · 5 years

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News

We had some heavy snow here (you may have heard, HARD EYEROLL in the general direction of the weather-specific media) a week or so ago. At my house, it seemed like about a foot. I woke up at six last Sunday morning and went outside to shovel a bathroom area for my dog, and then decided to take care of our front path and the public sidewalk.

About halfway through clearing the path, I peremptorily gave up on the sidewalk. It was probably about 11 degrees and the snow was much heavier than I’d counted on. As I continued to shovel, I thought – no word of a lie – it’s no wonder so many people keel over from heart attacks while doing this!

Imagine my surprise when my mom called around 11:30 that morning to let me know she was at the hospital with my dad, who’d had a heart attack while trying to clear the driveway. He had to cool his heels in the hospital for four days before having a triple bypass on Friday.

My dad is 77 and in good health. He takes no medication, works out five mornings a week, is only semi-retired, and routinely hoists large pieces of furniture in and out of his workshop and van. Prior to last Sunday, he’d never spent a night in the hospital in his life. So this...was a shock.

My dad is very lucky – we are lucky – because this type of heart attack is called “the widow maker” and, as one doctor put it, typically the only symptom is death.��“You’re the guy we pull out of a snow drift.”

For a few days, every time I’d think of this – that my dad managed to get himself inside, that my mom happened to be downstairs to observe what was happening, that she insisted on calling 911 even when my dad said he was fine – I’d go jelly-legged, like someone had unplugged whatever connected my bottom half to my top. I felt untethered from the planet. He could have died in the driveway.

The surgery went well, the nurses can’t say enough about how well he has done since arriving in the ICU. The moment I’d been dreading the most, seeing my dad on a ventilator, came and went without me falling apart. And after he was off the vent, I had a remarkably cogent chat with him. I told him about the government reopening and that Roger Stone got arrested in his pajamas.

Now he is out of ICU, and each day less encumbered by wires and tubes and monitors. The next bit is as much about his head as his heart; my mom said he was feeling anxious today and the thought of my dad feeling scared absolutely destroyed me. Of course, one might say it’s healthy to have fear about such things.

We’re all reorienting our world around this and the next few months will certainly be much different than we’d planned. I think my parents and I have done okay with this – we’re not a “feelings family” so a lot of things have gone unsaid. I tell my dad I love him and take care of him however I can. Friday night I got him a mouth swab to give him some relief and felt like a true hero. It is not how I imagined spending my Friday night but then again, where else should I have been?

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dreamlover31 · 7 years

Text

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 35

Whenever the tiny infant was cradled in her arms, Alexa barely even caught her eye, the threat of tears raining down her cheeks caused Alexa to repel any further contact with the newborn, in no short order; she would pass her off to a nurse. Ultimately, Lucia became the child’s sole caregiver, new stations from across the city were keeping its citizens updated as to the shooting of assistant district attorney Rafael Barba. Carisi, Rollins and Fin sat in the waiting room, listening to the news anchor spread word of the lack of leads in the investigation, Olivia paced the room; the last they heard of Barba’s condition was that he was in critical condition.

Carisi’s face sullied in despair, then after a moment, he said: “I still can’t believe this is happening”

Fin chimed in, “Barba’s a tough bastard…he’ll get through this”

“Hey…you ok?”

“I just can’t stop thinking about Alexa, I mean…the last time I saw her…I barely recognized her”

“She’s going through a lot right now…all we can do is give her as much love and support as we can”

“Rollins, she barely even looked at her baby after she was born…and even now, the only people taking care of her are the nurses and Lucia”

Rollins sighed, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know”

Alexa laid on the bed, across from her, Nadia was sound asleep in the little plastic makeshift bassinet, in an almost zombie like state, Alexa stared blankly ahead at the darkened TV screen hooked up to the wall. Suddenly, Nadia stirred in the bassinet and began crying softly at first, then in a matter of seconds, the poor thing started wailing; all the while, Alexa showed indifference towards her own child.

Olivia was halfway down the hall when she heard Nadia’s cries, when she made entry, it was beyond comprehension at the current situation, how could a mother just ignore her child’s pleas for attention and love; finally fed up with it all, she glared at Alexa. Before, she reached the bed, Olivia briefly exited the room and grabbed an incoming nurse; she asked the young woman to care for Nadia while the two women had a little chat, with a saddened expression, the young woman made haste and retrieved the screaming baby.

The moment they were alone, Olivia approached Alexa’s bed and with a stern look on her face, then she tore Alexa a new one.

Olivia’s words appeared to have broken through Alexa’s self-induced catatonia, for at that moment, her dark brown eyes peered upward, and in a weak voice said:

“Where’s Nadi, I want to see her”

“I’ll get her for you”

“Can I hold her?”

“Of course”

Slowly, Olivia handed her off to Alexa, soft coos escaped her tiny lips as she was nestled into her mother’s arms, Alexa’s smile remained intact while she gazed at her small body; even as her tiny hands inched up the front of her hospital gown. Suddenly, Nadia’s eyes peered open, a warm feeling spread throughout Alexa’s body the moment their eyes linked; they were green like her father’s.

My beautiful daughter, she looks like me…but deep down, she has her father’s spirit…I can tell just by looking at her, my poor child…forgive me for not being there when you needed me, but from here on out…I promise to protect you and love with all my heart, the same goes for your father…and believe me, you will see him soon.

“He’s in critical condition, but he’s stable”

“Can I see him?”

“I’ll find out”

When they emerged, Alexa tried to compose herself as she looked upon the sight before her, an unconscious Rafael stretched out on the hospital bed hooked up to monitors with a breathing tube plugged into his mouth, his face was devoid of any color. Olivia rolled the wheelchair to the bed, eyes met briefly in a way where Olivia silently asked permission if they would be alright alone, to which she responded with a slight nod.

With that, Olivia gave the small family their privacy, Alexa turned back to her handsome, adorning man and smiled sweetly as she spoke:

“Hi honey, it’s me…I brought a visitor, it’s our daughter Nadi…she’s beautiful and she has your eyes”

The monitors beeped and the ventilator breathed for him while she continued to speak to him, a small sniffle passed through her nose.

“Nothing’s gonna harm you Not while I’m around Nothing’s gonna harm you No sir, not while I’m around”

“Demons are prowling everywhere Nowadays I’ll send’em howling I don’t care, I got ways”

“No one’s gonna hurt you No one’s gonna dare” Others can desert you Not to worry, whistle, I’ll be there”

“Demons’ll charm you with a smile For a while But in time nothing can harm you Not while I’m around”

“Not to worry, not to worry I may not be smart but I ain’t dumb I can do it, put me to it Show me something I can overcome Not to worry”

“Being close and being clever Ain’t like being true I don’t need to, I would never Hide a thing from you Like some…”

#rafael barba #alexa duvall #love will find a way #aftermath

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