#how do people remember if they’ve taken a medication??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fr3sh-tragedies · 3 months

Text

Hurt What's Mine

[Shadow of the Tomb Raider] Lara Croft x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.05k

Proofread: No

Content Warnings: Language, mentions of blood, heavy descriptions of gore and death, hospitalization, brief mention of medication

Categories:

Angst Fluff Mix

One-Shot Preference Headcanon

[A/N]: Thank you for 170+ followers! I've got a couple of people who have requested things through my inbox, and I'm hoping I'll be able to answer them soon! I will be open to requests soon, but there are a few more characters I want to write for ahead of time so it's easier to get an idea of what fandoms I'm open to. If you sent in a request, thank you! Once I've posted for a bit longer, I'll upload the masterlist I've made as well as the rules for requesting, then I'll answer requests!

[A/N] #2: If you do have a request that you'd like me to write in the future, please let me know! I'll get to it eventually, things are just hectic right now. Thank you for reading!

Enjoy!

Amongst the loud snapping of twigs combined with the rustling of the leaves overhead, softened chatter could be heard throughout the entrance to the forest. The sky, which had been painted warm shades of red and orange mere moments before, had grown murky with hues of purple and black. Small stars illuminated the sky as it grew darker, bright pools of light poking through the inky atmosphere to aid the moon in flooding the landscape with a soft glow. In accompaniment with the darkness seemingly swallowing up the woodland area that Lara and [Y/N] wandered into, a harsh breeze rushed through the air.

As the two walked deeper into the forest, Lara made sure to reach over when coming across drywood and break it free from the ground, tucking it under her arm. After seeing her do this, [Y/N] mirrored her actions and began to gather wood as well. The two had decided they’d head into the nearby forest to gather kindling for the fire they planned to build back at camp. There, Jonah was waiting, sorting through his supply of herbs and a small flask of water he’d said he would use to stir up a broth of sorts that would help all three stay warm for the night. The only problem being there was no fuel for a fire nearby, so both women volunteered to scavenge for some together.

It had taken quite a while to make it to the woodland area safely, but the conversation they had struck up with each other managed to keep the journey bearable. Thankfully, Lara had remembered to snatch her makeshift machete before heading out. Using the sharpest part of the rusted blade, she sliced through the brush that obstructed their path, allowing them to meander forward with a partial trail behind them.

Soon enough, neither of them were able to carry more of the drywood they came across. With a huff, Lara spun on her heel and jutted her chin toward the path she had made. “We should head back. We can always come back later if we need to gather more.” [Y/N] nodded, trailing behind the brunette as she led the way. A few minutes passed in silence, both women focused on not tripping over the loose roots or pebbles that littered the dampened blades of grass. Ultimately, as they neared the halfway point of the path, [Y/N] decided to break the silence.

“God, I’m glad we haven’t had any run-ins with Trinity. Those guys are a huge pain in the ass,” she complained. At her words, the corners of Lara’s lips perked up into an amused smirk. “Yeah, they are. We still need to keep our guard up, though. There weren’t any traces of them following us here, but that’s been the case the last couple of times as well. They’ve got the wrong motives, but they’re clever, and they know how to handle stealth operations.”

A grimace painted [Y/N]’s features as she nodded in response. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Silence once again fell upon them, allowing their senses to return to the sound of their own footsteps beneath them as they staggered ahead. While they recalled the way they came from, they struck up another conversation with one another, trying to keep the mood light in the eeriness that made itself known between the towering trees. It seemed to work–both felt more at ease as they chatted away. Merely a moment seemed to pass, however, before a loud clamp echoed throughout the area, followed by a ticking and whirring noise nearby.

Before either had time to react and understand what had happened, Lara flew backward with a holler and collapsed onto the ground. She was yanked forward once she made contact with the soil. The whirring noise returned, louder this time, and she was soon dangling high in the air by her foot. She groaned, her ears ringing and vision blurry from the way her head had bashed against the floor. Her eyes were pinched tightly shut, though her hand instinctively reached for her belt to find her gun.

Squinting and blinking her eyes rapidly, Lara managed to clear her view. All at once, she could make out what had happened. Just a few feet away, [Y/N]’s leg had been caught in a similar trap, but she wasn’t conscious enough to try and escape. Lara’s arm whipped forward to take aim, watching with a newfound sense of terror as a horde of shielded soldiers, clad in black, swarmed forward to the two. Even as she struggled to steady the hand that she gripped the gun harshly with, Lara began to fire warning shots, striking several of the soldiers and watching them plummet to the ground in waves.

A few that hadn’t been shot dashed toward [Y/N] and took hold of her limp arms. They hollered at each other to get her down, using her as some sort of human shield to avoid being killed as well. Upon seeing them grab the unconscious girl, the blood pumping from adrenaline underneath Lara’s skin lit aflame with fury and a desire to defend. Her aim became far more accurate, more fatalities becoming visible as she fired away at them, a wolf’s snarl lacing her words as she bellowed at them to leave her alone.

She knew she just needed to get enough of them down so she could break free from the pulley that tightened the rope around her ankle to a painful degree. If she could do that, she could protect [Y/N] and help her flee. A false spark of hope flushed through her veins as she noticed she had cleared most of the squad, the lie of it evident as her clip ran empty and more men emerged from the distance. She cursed at herself, her hands unsteadily flying back up to her belt to find another magazine and reload. As she struggled with fiddling her pack open to search, she failed to register the sound of thundering footsteps nearing her from behind.

Finally, she pulled a clip free with a small huff of relief. She let her empty mag drop to the ground, flicked upward with the new one to reload, then cocked the hammer back before taking aim. A single bullet fired from the barrel, and everything went black.

Everything seemed to come back at once–every sense flowing forward and overwhelming Lara’s mind. A muffled groan slipped past her lips as she managed to lift her head. Entirely unaware of her bearings, her eyes flitted around in confusion, unable to see with her eyes wide open. She jerked her arms forward, hoping to grab hold of whatever fabric covered her face, only to feel cold steel dig harshly into the skin on her wrists. She hissed in pain, wriggling for a moment as she tried to understand what had happened.

Her focus returned to what she could feel. She had been chained to something, though it was hard to make out exactly what it was. Against her back, she could feel jagged wood scratching at her scarred skin each time she moved. Her arms encircled whatever it was she was pinned up on. Piecing things together, she figured she had been cuffed to a wooden beam somewhere. That didn’t explain where she was, though. Aside from the village she and the others had passed through once they arrived, there were no structures of any kind as far as she could tell. Had one of the villagers turned and taken her hostage?

She could feel the frigid grated steel beneath her, which confirmed she had to be somewhere else. The ground in the homes of the village had been purely dirt and tattered cloth.

Then where the hell was she?

What had happened before she blacked out?

“Oh, look who’s up from her nap,” a booming voice called out, pulling Lara from her thoughts. Her head shot up, a quick yelp of pain greeting her as her head throbbed from the sudden motion. “Who the hell are you? Where am I? Where’s [Y/N]?” She couldn’t recall what she had been through beforehand, though some part of her told her she needed to defend herself regardless. A deep chuckle rumbled nearby before the owner of the previous voice stepped closer. Lara braced herself for a hit, fighting back a flinch when gloved fingers gripped the top of what had been obstructing her view and tugged upward.

She squinted with a hiss as the overhead lights flashed their way into her eyes, effectively blinding her for a moment. As her vision cleared and adjusted, she jerked her head to the side to face whoever had granted her the ability to see again. A moment hardly passed before her face contorted with anger: her brows furrowed tightly together, practically knitting themselves as one, her jaw clenching as her teeth ground painfully against each other.

“Who the fuck are you?” She snapped. Quickly, her outrage completely replaced the feeling of distress, only worsening when her gaze flickered down to see Trinity’s emblem stitched into the man’s tactical vest. He laughed, tossing the woven bag that had been tied around her head to the side. “You don’t need to know who I am, but I certainly know who you are.” He grinned, then reached behind Lara to pick something up from behind the pillar. Briefly after, he leaned back again, dangling her tactical belt tauntingly in front of her, still fully equipped with all of her weapons.

Her eyes widened a fraction at the sight, instinctively flying down to find and confirm that she had indeed been stripped of her only means of defense in this position. Immediately, she knew she needed to free herself. With the methods she had been taught after tussling with offenders before, she knew she could easily wrestle this man to the ground and overpower him. With her arms restrained, however, she could only fight back at an infuriatingly close range.

He seemed to notice the stress that had returned to Lara’s mind, letting out another cackle at her misfortune. He stood, twisting his torso far enough to hurl the belt over the railing. As he made his way over to squat in front of her again, she took this opportunity to look around. She had been right: she was chained to a wooden support beam, and she was seated against steel. Through the holes in the grated plates, she could see she was far up off the ground, at least three or four stories high.

Looking up, she could see layers of other platforms above, towering to an ungodly height. Dropping her gaze back down, the platform she was on curved around a circular building just behind her, and ahead of her, a long metal bridge stretched out to connect to an identical structure. As her eyes focused in on a figure across the platform, her blood ran cold, wishing she hadn’t recognized what was happening.

Everything that had happened before she ended up here came flooding back. The forest, the traps, the soldiers, everything. Now separated, [Y/N] was similarly cuffed to a pillar. Her binds seemed tighter, red lines already formed on her wrists as though she had been struggling against them for a while. For the first time since making it to the town, Lara felt genuine fear. Had they already hurt [Y/N]? Had they forced her to give away where Jonah was?

“[Y/N]!”

“Ah, so you noticed,” the man voiced, bringing her attention back to him. Shakily, she lifted her head, She screamed at herself, willing her voice into intimidation. “Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.” Internally, she cursed at the way her voice wavered and cracked.

The man grinned devilishly, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? The moment you brought her here, you forced her to be a part of this. Like it or not, she has everything to do with this.” He leaned forward, blocking her view of [Y/N] and forcing her to look him in the eye. “It’s your fault.” Bringing his hand to his chin, he glanced up and mockingly pretended to think. “I suppose the saying, “like father like daughter,” is true after all. Wouldn’t you say so?”

At the mere mention of her father, a concoction of emotions bubbled beneath the surface of Lara’s skin. Even so, she forced her expression to remain stern. “Don’t you fucking talk about him.” Once again, she was met with a laugh.

A soldier that had been stationed nearby stepped closer to the two, concern laced in his tone. “Sir, shouldn’t we be careful? She’s taken out half of our men already, and most of it was entirely on her own.” The man in front of Lara rolled his eyes and stood, giving a small shrug. “Relax, I’m just having a bit of fun. There’s nothing she can do like this,” he gestured toward her. “With respect,” the soldier started, “she’s gotten out of tougher situations. Maybe we should–”

In an instant, the man, who Lara assumed was the captain at this point, whipped his gun from its holster on his hip and stood. He flicked his arm upward and pointed the barrel directly against the soldier’s forehead, prompting him to freeze. “I’ll fucking take care of it, you got it? All I’m gonna do is get her to tell me a few things, then we’ll blow both of their brains out, then be on our way. Stop me like that again, and the first round will go through your thick skull. Understand?”

Quickly, the soldier nodded and stepped back to his station. “Yes, sir.”

The captain then tucked his gun away. He turned and made a motion with his head to the group across the bridge. Lara glanced behind him to see what was happening, only to panic further as they crouched beside [Y/N], who flinched away at their touch. “Don’t touch her!” She screamed, thrashing violently against her restraints.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the captain teased, crouching down in front of her again to look her in the eye. “As long as you answer some questions, we won’t hurt her anymore.” Anymore. That word bounced through Lara’s head as she barely managed to notice that [Y/N]’s skin was littered with bruises and cuts. She swallowed hard, glaring at him. “What do you want? What questions?” He again acted as though he was deep in thought. “Well, for starters, you could tell me where the artifact you're looking for is.”

She scoffed. “So what? You can use it to wipe out humanity? Like you tried to do with the Divine Source?” The captain forced a smile. His hand lifted from his side and made a motion toward the group behind him. Lara watched, horrified, as one soldier used all his strength to kick [Y/N] in the stomach, another grabbing a fistful of her hair and slamming her head back against the pillar. She cried out in pain, desperately trying to free herself.

“Like I said, tell me what I want to know, and she won’t get hurt.”

Lara practically growled at him when she spoke. She ordered him to call the group back, threatening to make his death hell if he didn’t comply. “What do you think you can do? Can’t exactly kill me while you’re stuck here.” She scowled, her fingertips tapping at the chains in search of the padlock. Her arm shimmied a bit, allowing one of her hairpins to slip from the cuff of her sleeve and into her hand that she kept tucked away for situations exactly like this.

As she fiddled with trying to find the padlock, the captain continued to hound her with questions.

“Where’s your camp? I know you brought someone else here too.” She shuddered at the thought of Jonah being dragged into this as well. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where the hell I am, and you expect me to remember how to get back?” Another motion was made, prompting another harsh punishment to be given to [Y/N]. Lara shouted her name, begging her to hold on and promising she’ll get the two of them out.

The captain scoffed and crossed his arms. “Are you really not grasping what I’ve said? Answers for me means less pain for her.” Panicked, Lara thrashed again, her hands trembling as they continued their search. “I’m trying! But you aren’t giving me questions I can answer!” It was hard to mask her relief when her fingers finally found the padlock, though she instead focused on wriggling the bobby pin into the lock. “Well,” the captain huffed, standing again and slipping his gun from his belt. “I think I know something that might trigger your memory.”

At that, he turned and began walking toward [Y/N], wordlessly ordering the group of soldiers to back away. “No, don’t hurt her!” Lara was practically screaming at her hands to still, and with another brief moment, she finally managed to pick the lock, wrestling her arms free from the chains and stumbling as she stood. Without an ounce of hesitation, she lunged forward toward the captain, grabbing hold of him and trying to keep him away. He hollered in surprise, reaching back to claw at her and get a grasp. “Get off of me, you bitch!”

The team of soldiers that had been abusing [Y/N] only a mere moment before were now hurtling toward her. With a bit of a struggle, three of the soldiers managed to pry her off of him, throwing her back before forcefully pinning her against the pillar yet again. She fought against them, screaming for them to let her go. The captain ahead grumbled and stared her down for a moment, though he was quick to turn and walk toward [Y/N] again.

As Lara thrashed against the soldiers holding her down, the head of the team reached up toward a sheath against his hip, his gun having been smacked out of his hand and over the ledge from Lara’s outburst. Something felt as though it were burning in her mind, growing hotter and hotter as the captain closed the space between him and [Y/N]. She couldn’t let Trinity take another person she loved away from her. She wouldn’t allow it.

Hardly managing to remember her training, she turned and lunged her torso forward, using all of the momentum to headbut the soldier grasping her right arm in the face. He howled in pain, letting her go and falling backward. She then turned to the man holding her left shoulder. In the blink of an eye, she whipped her arm in a circular motion, gripping his wrist and forcing his arm to twist until he let go. Just as quickly, she shuffled forward and kicked the third soldier square in the chest, effectively knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Before she could stand, two more men sprinted forward and blocked her path, one of them managing to land a few rough kicks to her face and head. She hooked her arm beneath the back of his leg, jolting up to stand and flipping him backward. The second soldier struggled to free his rifle from the band on his back. By the time he managed to try and aim at her, her forearm flew sideways and struck his wrist, the impact catching him off guard and causing him to drop his weapon. Lara then leapt forward and gripped the straps of his tactical vest. She spun around to gain more force before driving him around again and launching him over the railing, not bothering to watch as he plummeted toward the ground countless meters below.

She turned, determined to get to the captain, but froze in place. Still so far away, he had freed [Y/N] of restraints, knowing she wouldn’t have been able to fight back. He pinned her against the platform, his knees planting themselves on either side of her hips as he drove his knife down into her stomach. Lara watched as [Y/N] tried to gasp for air, only to choke and let out a silent scream.

She felt everything grow heavy, ready to give into the temptation to drop to the ground. An inhumane level of fury coursed through her veins, and soon she found herself running forward at full speed, no longer in control of her body.

The neared the captain in only a few seconds, leaping from the ground and thrusting her arms forward. She tackled him off of [Y/N]’s writhing body and ripped the blade from his hand, dropping it and instead using her fists to beat any part of him she could see. Hit after hit, punch after punch, a new bruise formed on his skin, thinner sections splitting open into gashes. His blood seemed to all pool together beneath his head.

Lara let out a yell with each strike made against his skill. She lost count of the amount of times her knuckles made contact with the swollen form beneath her, not even noticing that her knuckles had begun to tear open and bleed from the sheer force alone. As his arms and legs fell limp against his sides, Lara’s punches came to a stop. Her bloodied hand reached over and grasped the handle of the knife, knuckles white from the tightness as she lifted the blade above her head.

Instantly, she plunged the knife down, listening with a sick joy as the thin metal ripped through layers of skin and organ, cracking through parts of his ribs. Mirroring what [Y/N] had done, the captain hopelessly tried to gasp for breath, instead wheezing and sputtering while his hands weakly scratched at her arms. Only for a moment, she kept the knife there. Before she could watch the life leave his eyes, she drew the blade out and immediately thrusted it down into his jugular with an equal force.

Her hands let go of the handle and dropped to land at her sides. She stared down, gleefully studying the way the captain clutched at his throat, a thick puddle of blood erupting from his mouth and trickling down his cheeks and jaw, disappearing into his hairline and accumulating with the crimson red under his trembling form. Glaring down at him with dull eyes, she lazily tugged the rifle from his back, forcing herself to stand and turn around.

She hadn’t heard the group of soldiers thundering up the stairs, but she had apparently sensed it. Effortlessly, she lifted the rifle and took aim, crouching down and firing away as the men made their way up one by one. By the time the team died out, she heard the gun click. Her gaze bored down at the rifle, realizing she had burned through the ammo. With a grunt of disapproval, she discarded the gun, then ripped another one away from a nearby lifeless body. She used that rifle to finish off the squad, blankly staring ahead after lowering the gun.

As her mind clouded over, taking in the scene before her, she tossed the gun to the side, straining to hear as it clattered against the steel platform. A bloodbath. That was the only way she could possibly describe it. Piles of bodies across such a small space, silver metal now stained red from blood and black from gunpowder. Lifeless eyes of the fallen seemed to watch her as she lifted her hands, taking in the way blood coated her skin. She wasn’t sure how much of it was hers and how much of it was the captain’s. She paid it no mind, instead rotating her hands to examine her knuckles. She had most definitely broken a few, if not all, of them,

Had she actually done all of this?

Nothing felt real.

The sudden sound of harsh coughing broke her out of her trance, forcing her attention toward the source. She scrambled over to [Y/N]’s side, holding her head up as she processed just how badly she had been hurt. Adding onto the gaping wound in her torso, countless bruises and cuts peppered every exposed inch of skin. The back of her head had been dripping blood from being hammered into the wooden beam. Lara gasped and frantically helped her prop her head up to prevent choking on her blood, her eyes scanning the surrounding area for something to help stop the bleeding. She grimaced when [Y/N] whimpered from the way she stretched over to grab a torn uniform.

Thinking on her feet, she slid to the wall of the base and leaned the wounded girl against it, apologizing tearfully each time she yelped in pain. After tearing the uniform into a thinner piece, she began stuffing part of the wound, earning more cries. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, finally using the rest of the cloth to ball it up. “This is going to hurt, but I need you to trust me.”

Before [Y/N] even opened her eyes, Lara forced her hand downward, applying an immense amount of both pressure and pain to the wound. At this, [Y/N] screamed in agony, her eyes beginning to roll back as her breaths quickened. Lara cupped her jaw and shifted forward. “[Y/N]? No, [Y/N], I need you to stay with me, okay? Keep your eyes open! Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. Stay with me,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“[Y/N], please, I can’t lose you. Not like this. Keep your eyes open–that’s all I need you to do!” Her words fell upon deaf ears, no matter how desperate they became. Before Lara could beg for her to listen again, [Y/N]’s head drooped down, her body now completely limp.

“[Y/N]?” Lara whimpered, shaking the unconscious girl’s head as a silent plea. When no response came from the motion, the Croft felt her tears beginning to spill, only being able to whisper “no” repeatedly. Her hand, the one that had been holding up the woman’s head, slid down to check for a pulse. She gasped softly when she found it, though realized she had to act quickly from how weak it was. “Shit,” she blurted, once again examining her surroundings. That bastard had thrown her radio over the railing with her weapons. There was no way she could contact Jonah without alerting any other potential Trinity bases of where they were. One look down at [Y/N], however, forced her to take that risk.

She stood and quickly rushed over to the nearby bodies, her calloused, bloodied hands desperately searching their equipment for a radio of sorts. She cursed with each failed search, though lit up only a fraction once she found one. Quickly, she ran to sit by [Y/N]’s side again, holding her up and pulling her close, keeping an eye on her as she sent out a message.

“Jonah? Jonah, are you there? Can you hear me? I need your help: [Y/N]’s bleeding out!”

She released the button, only earning static in response. Her eyes shot back to the woman beside her, her only shimmer of hope dimming immediately. Her finger clicked down again, lifting it closer to speak into it once more.

“Jonah, I need you here! Jonah, please, can you hear me?”

A choked sob erupted unwillingly from her throat. She felt like curling into herself and breaking right there. Now hunched over, she clutched the radio tightly against her chest, grasping a handful of her hair as she tried to come up with another plan. All she could bring herself to do for a moment was weep, terrified of losing the woman propped up by her side.

Her mind cleared for a brief second, and although she had no idea where they were, she knew they couldn’t stay there. More reinforcements were bound to show up sooner or later, and she was in no state to fight them all. She stood, peering out at the landscape in hopes of finding a landmark she had passed before. The lids of her eyes threatened to shut, heavy with fatigue from the loss of adrenaline and the salty tears that had fallen.

She staggered closer to the rail, gripping onto it tightly as a way to ground herself as she searched further. Her heart felt like it was going to sink down into the pit of her stomach upon spotting a village in the distance. She turned to [Y/N], unsure if either of them could even make it that far. There was a chance it wasn’t the village she had been in either, on top of the fact there could be more traps hidden in the forest.

That only stopped her briefly. She knew they needed to leave, and she knew it was better to head out with the chance of finding Jonah than staying there to die.

Willing every ounce of strength she had left, she plucked the rifle she had thrown to the side back up, slinging it over her shoulder before wobbling back to [Y/N]. She huffed, sucking in a deep breath to ready herself, then bent down to pick her up, one arm tucking itself underneath her knees, and the other wrapping around her torso.

She turned, stumbled forward toward the stairs, and wrestled with the urge to look down at the unconscious form in her arms.

Each step down felt like a mile, Lara’s calves straining and aching, feeling as though they would give in and snap like twigs. By the time she managed to make it to the ground, it took everything in her not to collapse. She just kept telling herself they’ll be there soon. That was all she could do to keep moving forward. If she didn’t make it, not only would [Y/N] die, but she would as well. The marks from the beating she had taken had begun to finally sink in, adding to the difficulty.

She swayed every few steps. Her body threatened to fall over anytime she leaned too far.

She had no way of knowing she was going in the right direction, only able to rely on her instinct. There was no path, no landmark, no sign of nearing the village, which is why it was such a surprise when she could hear hollering up ahead. She strained her ears, hardly managing to make out that the unidentified voice was calling her name.

“Jonah?” She whispered hoarsely.

“Lara! [Y/N]! Are you two out there?”

“Jonah,” she weeped, unable to raise her voice any further.

Her feet continued to stumble toward the sound of his voice. The closer she got, the stronger the small spark of adrenaline she somehow still had grew. Finally, realizing he was only a few feet away, Lara managed to pick up her pace, lightly jogging forward. “Jonah, we’re here,” she cried out weakly. She moved ahead, breaking through the entrance of the forest to reveal the small patch of land they had originally tried to set up camp at. There, Jonah turned around and instantly ran over.

“Lara, you’re alright! I heard gunfire, but I didn’t know where you were, and–”

“Jonah, we need to get back to the plane right now. [Y/N]’s losing too much blood, and I don’t know how much longer she’s going to last,” although her tone was weak, there was no doubt she was terrified. Jonah finally looked down to the woman in Lara’s arms, his body tensing at the sight of all she had been through.

“Shit, what did–okay, but what about what you came here for? We can’t come back! Trinity’s going to–” Jonah knew that even mentioning the artifact in that moment was a mistake, but his mind was racing, preventing him from thinking logically.

“Forget the artifact, Jonah!” Lara snapped, her raspy voice finally reaching the volume she’d wanted to have when calling for him. “I don’t give a shit about that right now! I just want [Y/N] to survive! I’m the reason she’s in this state to begin with–I don’t want to be the reason she dies!”

At her sudden tone, Jonah could only nod and motion for Lara to hand [Y/N] to him to carry her there. Reluctantly, Lara did so, only after realizing she wouldn’t be able to make it to the plane in time if she were the one taking her. Without a moment to lose, Jonah began rushing up the path toward where they had landed, shouting behind him for the Croft to follow.

The ringing returned the closer they got, her vision blurring and growing dark. Everything was spinning, and she had to force herself to keep track of Jonah. By the time they had all made it into the plane, Lara’s body finally gave out.

“You know, I don’t think I had ever scared my father that badly before,” Lara murmured, a gentle chuckle escaping as she smiled fondly at the memory. With a sigh, she felt the pad of her thumb caress the tattered skin on the back of [Y/N]’s hands. For just a single moment, the ticking of the clock hanging above the door synced up with the beeping of the monitor beside the bed. Just as quickly, they fell out of rhythm again, and Lara waited for them to repeat it. Every few minutes, for the past several weeks, both would beat together for just a brief second, only to fall apart again.

It was the only thing she could look forward to anymore. It kept her distracted so she didn’t have to process everything just yet–so she didn’t have to look up at the woman deep in a coma in the bed she sat by. Jonah would come in here and there, reminding her to eat something small or to bring her a spare blanket for the night. Nurses would step inside to take vitals and update Lara on what was happening. And even though [Y/N] was there, whenever everyone else would leave, Lara still felt alone.

She could talk to her, but it was more like talking at her. She had no idea if the woman could hear anything she said, nor did she know when she was going to wake up. It had been seven weeks since they made it back from the expedition. Lara’s injuries were treated fairly easily, but [Y/N] had fallen into a medical coma from blood loss and excessive blunt force trauma. Her chances of survival in the beginning were slim, but things started to steadily improve as the days passed by.

Those days, however, felt like years to Lara. The woman she could once talk to and joke around with, the woman she could once hold and be held by, the woman she could once gaze into the eyes of, now lay before her, unmoving and silent. She was alive, but to Lara she seemed dead. She had been so lively before, and now she couldn’t even open her eyes.

To fill the never-ending silence that weighed heavy upon her shoulders, Lara would talk aloud, pretending as though she was sharing her thoughts with [Y/N] like she had done before everything went awry. Recently, after running out of small-talk she had murmured like it was scripted, she had resorted to retelling memories she had of her father back as a child. Somehow, even as [Y/N] stayed unconscious, Lara felt comfortable sharing her favorite times spent with her late father. Anyone else would’ve been waved off and told she wasn’t comfortable, but [Y/N] had always been the one person she could come to to speak of him freely.

Even seemingly dead, [Y/N] was still the only one she trusted. It was funny, in a way.

She huffed out a sigh, lifting the woman’s hand to her lips and pressing a featherlike kiss to her knuckles. Once her lips left the clammy skin, she brought her head down to lean it against the back of her hand. Her eyes closed, brows furrowed as she bit back a sob.

“I wish I had never brought you with me. If I hadn’t, you would still be comfortable at home, watching TV and sleeping in. You wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t… You wouldn’t be hurt, or strapped to this machine, or fighting for your life. You wouldn’t be in a coma.” She sniffled, squeezing the hand still against her forehead. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, [Y/N]. I would take it all back if I could.”

Some part of her waited, half-expecting a response. She whimpered, clearing her throat to prevent herself from bursting into tears again. With a hard swallow, she lifted her head, gaze trailing up to [Y/N]’s face. She smiled. “I have no idea how, but you still look so beautiful. Even when you’re out like this.”

Her free hand lifted far enough to caress the girl’s cheek, then pinch the bridge of her own nose, internally groaning at how heavy her eyes felt. Once her hand planted itself back on her thigh, she glanced over at the heart monitor, watching each movement on the screen intently for a moment, allowing herself to gather her thoughts. Finally, she faced [Y/N] again. Her hand squeezed her leg, unsure of what to say.

“I love you. So, so much. I should’ve said it more before… all of this, but I’m saying it now. I do love you, [Y/N], more than anything in this world.”

She huffed out a pained laugh.

“I don’t know why I’m so mad at you. None of this is your fault. I’m the one who dragged you into the expedition, and I’m the one who ended up getting you captured. I wish I hadn’t begged you to come with me. You deserve to be at home, not in this bed. I should’ve protected you, and I didn’t, and for that, I’m so sorry. You deserve someone better: someone who wouldn’t have gotten you into this mess.

“The worst part is: I don’t even know if you can hear me. I’m not sure if you’ve heard anything I’ve said this entire time. I’m not sure why knowing that you might not hear me hurts so badly, but it does.” Tears once again pricked the corners of her eyes. “God, I wish I could hear your voice again. I miss you so much. I know you’re right in front of me, and I know you’re still breathing and alive, but I’ve never felt so alone. It doesn’t feel like you’re really here. It feels like you’re not you.”

The tears stinging her eyes now blurred her vision and poured down in thick masses. Her free arm raised, allowing her to use the sleeve of her jacket to wipe them away. Once they dried, she looked up at her again, hands trembling harshly.

“Please wake up. I’m begging you.”

Grumbling was all Lara could do in her unconscious state. Any small sound she could hear had her grumbling louder: pages flipping, pens scribbling, pills rattling, doors opening, monitors beeping. Everything that she could hear seemed to be working against her, screaming at her to wake back up. It was late at night when she finally let herself drop her head onto the edge of the hospital bed to rest. Hand still clutching onto [Y/N]’s, she managed to drift off for the first time in days.

The sounds grew incessant, however, stirring her partially awake. Each little noise irritated her further, and she had to fight the urge to muffle the scream bubbling up in her throat with the sheets cushioning her head. To add onto her growing frustration, something squeezed softly at her hand, forcing her back to her senses.

“For fuck’s sake,” she mumbled, lifted her head, then looked down at her hand. Her brows pinched tightly together, she sat there, processing what she had just felt. Again, her hand was squeezed.

Her brain, although severely sleep deprived, finally managed to register what had happened. Immediately, she looked up from her hand, her eyes landing on [Y/N], who finally opened her eyes for the first time in months. She gazed back at Lara the way the brunette had been craving the entire time. Upon seeing that she was now awake, tears instantly trickled out from Lara’s eyes, a shaky sob accompanying them.

“[Y/N]?” She whispered, unsure if she was actually awake.

“Hey, Lara,” came her raspy reply, a tired grin gracing her cracked lips.

Right away, Lara sprung up from her seat by the bed and leaned forward, capturing [Y/N] in a tight embrace. “Oh my god, I don’t–” She sniffled. Her leg lifted up, allowing her to sit beside the woman now practically cradling her in return. “You’re awake. You’re finally awake. I don’t believe it.”

She leaned back from the hug, cupping [Y/N]’s face in her hands and studying every little feature she could see. Sob after sob wracked through her body as she pressed a kiss to the wounded woman’s lips, only shifting back to pepper the rest of her face in similar kisses. “I thought I lost you,” she whispered after calming down enough to speak. Her voice trembled and broke more with each passing word, rambling about what she had feared.

“God, I love you so much.”

Again, she captured [Y/N]’s lips in her own, pure relief washing through her senses when she felt her kissing back. Weakly, the bandaged girl chuckled. “I love you too,” she rasped out.

Lara instantly leaned back into the embrace, clutching desperately at the hospital gown she rested against. She swayed side to side, shivering as [Y/N] soothingly rubbed up and down her back. She couldn’t begin to explain how she felt at that moment. All she could say was she was so relieved to know that the woman she held closest to her heart was alive and breathing.

“Can I ask you something?” A soft voice whispered. She leaned away again to look her in the eye. “Of course. Anything at all.”

“What happened after I was stabbed?”

Lara froze, now growing uncertain. “You don’t remember?” She sucked in a shaky breath when her only response was a shake of the head. Her gaze dropped down, unsure of where to start. She scratched the back of her neck anxiously, took another deep breath in an attempt to steel her nerves, then cleared her throat. “Well, I’m not really…”

She turned to glance behind her, ensuring no one else was in the room before she spoke again. There was no shame in what she had done–not for her–but she’d be torn away instantly if someone overheard. [Y/N] had just woken back up, and she wasn’t going to risk losing her all over again. Although, that still might be a possibility, depending on how she took the news.

She explained herself, sparing no detail of what she had committed in her blind rage. From wrestling with the soldiers to stabbing the captain of the team in both the chest and the throat, she confessed every little atrocity that had been brought about by her hands alone. As she spoke, she averted her eyes, too afraid of being gazed at with disgust. She focused on the pattern stitched into the bedsheets bundled up atop [Y/N]’s legs.

Finally, she managed to tear her eyes away from the sheets and look back into [Y/N]’s. She swallowed, surprised to see that familiar glint of admiration in her eyes. There was no sign of repulsion or discomfort at the heinous things she had admitted to. “You’re not mad?” Was all she could ask. [Y/N] snickered and shook her head.

“Are you kidding? Those asswipes beat the shit out of me, and one tried to kill me. I don’t exactly have sympathy for them after that.” Relieved, Lara sighed and grinned. It was a breath of fresh air to see her laugh again, even though it was rather weak.

She turned to sit next to [Y/N], who she then pulled into her side. With a quick peck to the top of the head, she closed her eyes and yawned. “Tired?” “Mmhm.” “Yeah, same.” Lara laughed, looking down at her in confusion. “You were in a coma for nearly three months. Why are you tired?” [Y/N] smirked and rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t willingly unconscious. Plus, my body just sucks,” she murmured, earning another chuckle.

“Well, I love your body,” Lara mumbled, tugging her closer. “Every bit of it.”

Waiting a moment, [Y/N] leaned against the brunette fully, her head dropping onto her shoulder as she closed her eyes. She grinned, listening to Lara yawn again before she shivered. “Move your legs for a second,” she whispered to the already half-asleep woman. “Hm?” “Move your legs.” “What? Why?” “So I can cover you up with the blankets.”

Lara seemed to take a moment to understand what she had said. Finally, though, she lifted her legs with a groan, letting [Y/N] slip the covers out from under her and essentially tuck her in beside her. Both sighed in relief: Lara from the warmth of the sheets and [Y/N] pressed against her, and [Y/N] from the feeling of Lara holding her close.

Lights had been turned off throughout the ward for a while, which both women were silently grateful for. As they shuffled to lie down more comfortably beneath the covers, everything seemed to settle down for the first time in months. Lara’s body finally relaxed, the lack of sleep from the past several weeks catching up to her at a rapid speed. She hummed softly as she turned onto her side, pulling [Y/N] into her chest.

“I’m never taking you on a trip like that again,” she slurred out. “At least, not until I know Trinity won’t be there.”

[Y/N] nodded as she listened, also partially asleep. She squirmed a bit, sliding closer while trying to mind her IV. As her head settled against Lara’s chest, she yawned. A moment passed before she spoke again.

“You do know the nurses are gonna come in any minute and realize I’m awake, right?” A groan sounded from Lara, prompting a snicker from [Y/N]. “I’m gonna crawl back into the bed again the second they leave. I just want you in my arms right now.”

“Well, either way, I want you to know that I could hear you for most of the time I was out. And I also want you to know that I plan on saying “I love you” as many times as you did before I woke up. I really do love you. I mean, you were right here the second I woke up, and I don’t know if you ever…” She thought for a moment, opening her eyes and looking up at Lara. “Did you ever leave the room?” Even as she fought to stay awake, Lara scratched her cheek nervously. “Only when I used the restroom. I was afraid I wouldn’t be here when you woke up.”

[Y/N] grinned. “Well, I’m glad you were here. I was worried you wouldn’t be here at all when I woke up. I figured you’d leave and head home, or maybe go back to the village we were at.” Gently yet reassuringly, Lara squeezed her closer. “I would never do that to you. You’re everything to me.”

“And you’re everything to me.”

Another yawn managed to escape the brunette’s lips. She pressed a small kiss to the top of [Y/N]’s head and sighed, already drifting off again. “I love you, so damn much. No one��s going to hurt what’s mine, never again.”

“I’m yours, huh?”

“Of course.”

A gentle smile graced [Y/N]’s features as she shuffled closer, pressing a kiss to Lara’s collarbone as her eyes fluttered shut.

“Of course I’m yours.”

#fluff #x reader #female reader #angst #tomb raider #rise of the tomb raider #shadow of the tomb raider #lara croft #lara croft x fem!reader #lara croft x reader #lara croft x female reader

111 notes · View notes

soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

Home Is Where The Heart Is - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After a brutal fight against raiders with Ellie you feel like your bond with her and everyone in town is broken but Joel is there to show you otherwise

Words: 3k

Warnings; blood; injury

Notes: Platonic Ellie x reader too. I need more of this Joel; long salt and pepper hair and scruff cuz fuuuuckkk me man he looks fine af

Y/N’s POV

People stop and stare as we make our way back into town, Ellie’s sat upon Indiana with the two kids, trotting behind us. One is cradled in her arms being only four and the other is behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist. She’s wild eyed and clinging to the four year old like a lifeline while I have the mother stumbling beside me, arm over my shoulder as I take most of her weight and Indiana’s reins are wrapped around my left arm so Ellie can keep the kids safe. We’re covered in blood, me the most as I may have gone on a killing rampage after finding the kids locked up in those cages.

Tommy and Maria are rushing towards us, the gates slamming shut behind Indiana and causing the kids to cry out in fear, my heart breaking even more. Others are joining us, Jesse escorting the mother towards the makeshift hospital Jackson has with a promise her kids will be safe and reunited with her shortly but she needed medical care first. The reins are being taken from me and I’m stepping towards Ellie who is standing by Tommy, the kid still cradled in her arms, and she takes a step back. My world comes crashing down right then and there, the look of fear in her clover eyes when she sees me moving towards her, it draws a lump in my throat and I’m digging my nails into my palms to keep myself calm. Dina’s putting a hand on my arm, being one of the only people to know about my past and why I was so triggered by the raiders keeping this family hostage.

I’m throwing a glance back at Ellie when Dina begins leading me away, watching how Tommy and Maria are tending to her and the kids until they disappear around a corner. Dina’s firm hand in mine being the only thing grounding me from breaking down right then and there in the snow as I don’t know if I want to cry or scream or both. I’m angry and I’m hurt and I’m not good with emotions so all I can do is focus on her tight grip on my hand as she leads me home.

“N-no, Dina we can’t… Ellie-“ My voice cracks at Ellie’s name. She won’t want me being in the same house as her anymore. The look in her eyes said it all back there and I know… she won’t ever look at me the same way again let alone look at me.

“We need to wash the blood away and I’m sure Joel will want to know.” She steels me with a stern look as I pull against her hand, digging in my heels but somehow she’s overpowering me and pulling me up the porch steps. She doesn’t hesitate to dive a hand into my pockets and pull out my keys so she can let us in. Joel’s jumping up when he sees me covered in still drying blood, mouth open in protest but silenced by Dina holding a hand up to him before she turns back to me, “Shoes off and go run yourself a shower. Now.”

I don’t argue, toeing off my boots and heading for the stairs, keeping my eyes down and shaking off Joel’s hand that reaches out to touch my shoulder lightly. The soft sound of emotional hurt he makes is another stab in my gut but this time they’ve twisted the knife and the floodgates of blood and tears all at once. I’m trying to hold in the sob as I sprint up the stairs, hearing the quiet mumbles of Joel and Dina and wanting to drown them out. My heart is pounding in my ears and I’m struggling to breathe, stumbling into the bathroom door before slipping to my knees inside. I’m having a panic attack and I try so hard to remember the tricks Tommy taught me, pressing the flat of my palms to the freezing porcelain, focusing on the contrast of temperature against my burning skin. Hands touch my shoulders and I’m spinning around, pinning them down until I realise it’s Dina. She doesn’t flinch and there’s no fear or hatred in her gaze and I’m falling, my cheek pressing to the cold floor as she watches. She leans over and brushes a strand of my blood-matted hair off my forehead and I’m squeezing my eyes shut to try and stop crying but it doesn’t work.

Dina’s pulling herself to her feet and I wait to hear the bathroom door open and close but instead the sound of the shower being turned on reaches my ears and the heavy pounding of the water against the bottom of the bath seems to blur out any possibility of thoughts. The comforting sound of the water mixed with the cool tiles calms my heart rate enough to drag myself into a sitting position, eyes sliding open to see Dina watching me from where she’s sat atop the counter, waiting me patiently to come around. Her smile is soft, her curls more prominent in the steam the hot shower is producing and I want to cry again but I can’t. It’s not the time.

“Ellie’s scared of me.” I croak, voice sounding wrecked and Dina’s gaze soften as she gently shakes her head, watching me pull myself to my feet, legs shaking from exhaustion. My hands tremble as I struggle with the buttons on my shirt until familiar hands are slapping mine away and deft fingers make quick work of it, helping me slide it off and it goes straight in the bin. I manage to kick my jeans off and Dina turns away so I slip out of my underwear and into the welcoming warmth of the shower. It draws a sound from my lips as my muscles begin to ache and the open wounds that adorn my skin let themselves knows. All I can focus my attention on is the way the water runs red, not stopping or fading back to clear until Dina’s sighing and she surprises me by stepping into the shower with me but fully dressed.

I should be yelling at her, asking what the fuck she’s doing but I can’t muster the energy to. Jesse; Dina and I have a pretty chill friendship and we’ve had to look after each other after particularly tough patrols or raiders getting into Jackson. Jesse had to help Dina snap out of her shock one time after her first kill of a raider and the three of us just sat in the bathroom, Jesse cleaning the blood and mud from Dina while I had my back to the door. It was the first time I had truly felt comfortable around people and I trusted them with my life, loving to see how happy Jesse and Dian were together. I hope Jesse doesn’t kill me for this, I’m the one who’s naked not Dina but it still feels strangely intimate. Dina’s definitely pretty but I’m not one to swing that way, especially with the weird bond thing Joel and I have.

“Joel?” I ask as Dina massages the shampoo into my scalp the water running even redder than before and my eyes are slamming shut because Ellie’s right. I am a monster.

“He’s gone to talk to Tommy,” She coos soothingly before speaking up again, a smirk in her voice as she washes the shampoo out and moves onto the conditioner, “What was he doing waiting in your house anyway, with a key by the looks of it.”

“I…” I have to actually pause as I’m not sure why Joel was waiting for me here. I usually come back from patrol, shower then head down the road to his for dinner, “I don’t know.”

“Well, he was so worried, thought you were hurt,” She grinning, I can feel it without turning around, shivering when she rinses the conditioner out and runs her fingers through my hair to tease out any more knots clinging together. It hurts but I don’t even wince as I deserve it after what I did today, “Joel was ready to shove me aside and come up but I didn’t think you’d want him seeing you so vulnerable just yet.”

The shower is turned off and Dina’s stepping out, leaving the room dripping wet head to toe before a towel is flung through a crack into door and I hear her race to the spare room as both her and Jesse keep spare clothes in mine. The privacy giving me time to dry myself and pad to my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click as Dina’s footsteps can be heard on the steps before the familiar sound of the kettle boiling is following.

“I’m staring at myself in the cracked mirror an ache in my chest as the person I once knew is not the person staring back at me. Instead, it’s someone with bags under her eyes and a heavy weight of the past crushing them, leaving their mouth constantly turned downwards, eyes dull and eyebrows always in a scowl, no brightness or warmth to any part of them. Staring back is a shell of the person you once used to be, learning to slowly adapt and love again within the safe confines of Jackson. The walls may keep me safe but seeing others, like the mother and sons in pain and danger, makes me feel selfish for trying to be happy and build a life when they’re getting tortured and killed everyday. The scar across my cheek reminds me that I was once the person chained up and tortured for information I didn’t have and I was the one being saved by Tommy like I did that family. Maybe… Just maybe there is a possibility I deserve love and-

The opening and closing of the front door has me shaking my head, grabbing the first clothes I find in my drawers and haphazardly pulling them on: it’s a pair of grey baggy sweatpants and a somewhat matching sweatshirt in a deep blue colour. I’m drawing my damp hair up into a ponytail and before I can even open the door to head downstairs and find out why Dina left my bedroom door is being pushed open. Crowding the doorway is an almost shy looking Joel, salt and pepper hair shining in the sunset pouring through my window, beard finally having joined his hair in colour over the last year, tanned skin warm and glowing and a light pink dusting his cheeks. He’s still got his brown winter jacket on and that worn baby blue scarf tucked into it and if I weren’t so worried about Ellie hating me and the family I brought in I’d be on my knees for him already. I haven’t got much resolve after today and the things this man and his large hands do to me is almost embarrassing. He’s holding a steaming mug of what smells like coffee and the mug looks tiny wrapped in his hand.

“I-I thought you might like some company?” Joel’s stuttering and blushing and I’m just nodding, moving to my bed and he follows, setting the cup on my bedside table. He’s moving back to close the bedroom door, shrugging off that jacket and scarf to put them across my desk chair before finally sitting on the edge of my bed. I don’t think twice about pulling him down so he’s laying on his back and slotting myself under his left arm, laying my head on his chest over his heart so I can feel it beating comfortingly against my ear, “I’ve got you.” He coos, fingers gently pulling the hair tie from my hair so he can card his fingers through it and my eyes are fluttering shut when his blunt nails massage my scalp.

“Ellie hates me now, doesn’t she?” My voice shakes and I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to see his expression as he continues to soothe my hair and scalp.

“She doesn’t hate you, she just needs some time to process. She’s never seen you…” He trails off, chest rumbling when I push a hand under his shirt, feeling his soft stomach rise and fall with every breath. He may not have a six pack but he is in no way unfit, his pecs well defined and if you run your hands over his chest you can feel the beginnings of six packs but he’s perfect the way he is: equal parts buff and soft.

I’m gasping softly when the rough pads of his fingers ghost over my cheek, drawing me up to meet his gaze, honey eyes soft and warm as they search my face. Gentle fingers traces the scar down my cheek, nothing on his face but warmth and… love? It’s almost overwhelming and I’m letting my eyes slide shut, leaving into his warm palm that is now gripping my jaw, parting my lips when his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. His name tumbles from my lips in a broken whine and it’s as if the world is answering my prayers when plump lips meet mine in a soft kiss. My hands find the thick scruff of his beard, dragging my nails lightly through it and eliciting an addictive sound that I swallow. Moving my hands to tangle in his hair and pull lightly, deepening the kiss and opening my mouth for his searching tongue. Joel surrounds me in every way, his scent intoxicating, lips tasting of coffee as if he’d stolen a sip or two on his way up the stairs and his kisses leaving me dizzy with wanting more.

He’s pulling back too soon, stopping my lips from chasing his like I want to and honey eyes darker as he whispers out, “Y/N stop, I…” He takes a deep breath, hand cupping my cheek and thumb rubbing my cheekbone, “I want this, you don’t know how crazy I am for you but you’ve just been through something big… I want to know your feelings back are real and not just… not just adrenaline.”

“Stay the night?” I rush out, chest heaving with nerves and his eyes search my face again before he’s nodding and rearranging us so he’s spooning me. His left arm is under my neck, tucking it under my pillows so I can use both as a pillow and his right is resting on my hip but it’s not enough. I’m intertwining our fingers, pulling them to my lips to kiss his knuckles before letting our interlocked hands settle over my heart, a small smile on my lips when he presses a kiss to my neck and begins to whisper soothingly until my eyes are growing heavy.

Rolling onto my back, stretching, I’m greeted by Joel watching me with a soft look in his eyes, propped up on his elbow and fingers moving to brush my hair out of my face as he speaks quietly, as if trying to not ruin the moment, “Hey there baby girl.”

“Hey Joel,” I whisper back, raising myself to lean on my elbows, our lips a hair’s breadth away and his breath fanning over my face as I say the three words he wants to hear, “I meant it.” His lips are meeting mine in a gentle kiss, beard scraping against my chin and cheek but I would gladly suffer all the beard burn in the world to have him kissing me the way he is. He’s laying me back down and slotting himself over me, our bodies fitting together like a prefect jigsaw puzzle and the strangely comforting mix of burnt coffee, a woodsy musk I know is his cologne and something citrusy sweet has me reeling. I’m tugging at Joel’s bedhead, loving the longer look he has adopted over the last few months and my breath is being stolen with every push and pull of those tantalising lips.

“Y/N!” The door flies open and Joel’s rolling to sit next to me as we jump apart, Ellie standing in the doorway. Her mouth is hung open as her clover eyes flit between me and Joel, my heart pounding so loud I think they both can hear it as Joel’s placing a calming hand over mine. Ellie’s face twists and soon enough she’s beaming as she yells, “FUCK YEAH I GET TO CALL Y/N MUM!”

Mum?

“You don’t hate me?” I ask quietly as she sits on the bottom of the bed, legs crossed and facing us. Guilt fills those bright eyes but she’s shaking her head and I’m yanking her into a hug that I really need. She laughs sweetly, throwing her arms around my shoulders and burying her face in the crook of my neck.

“I could never hate you Mom. You mean too much to me, you were protecting us,” She pulls back, hand holding one of mine, “I was pretty badass the way you shot down every single one.”

“I love you.” I whisper, glancing between her and Joel and they both smile. Before I can ask they’re both tackling me into a hug and I just relinquish any fight I was going to put up as this is what I want. Ellie’s curled up in my arms between me and Joel as he looks at me with one emotion I never thought I’d get from him: Love.

It fills my chest with pride and I’m reaching out for Joel over Ellie’s now passed out form and he’s meeting me halfway, interlocking our fingers and pressing a kiss to my forehead over Ellie. This is really happening. I have to blink a few time in shock as yeah, Ellie is asleep between me and Joel and there’s a new found sense of place and belonging filling every corner of this house. Maybe things will be okay. They work out in the end.

Always.

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

TAGS: Tag List Form

@words-are-cheap @clover723 @a-psych0s-w0rld @sexyvixen7 @iraot @gemimawrites @pedropascalsrealhusband @twopercentmilk @amythenortherner @sxnshinebxcky @nelsoomon @urnewghostfriend @grooveandshit @reyas-world @canpillowscry @androgynoysgaz @outl4wage @ginger-swag-rapunzel @quinnverses @librafilms @leonkennedyslefthand @notsosecretspy @intergalacticspacemonkey @certifiedhunter @yourmommilf @mediocrewallflow3r @thesapphirequeen @randomhoex @secretsthathauntus

#Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #Joel miler x y/n #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #Joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #Joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal #thelastofus #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us x reader #the last of us fluff #Joel miller angst #Joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou x reader #Pedro Pascal characters

267 notes · View notes

karak9 · 10 months

Text

tw // reality check

uhh. just had a p-shifter interact with me and now I’m realizing seeing people who genuinely believe they can p shift is kind of a trigger for me, thanks! /s

if anyone who actually, genuinely believes in p-shifting sees this (not talking about people who experience delusions/psychosis and identify as p shifter because of it, but specifically people who argue that p shifting is REAL and spread false “science” about it):

please don’t go down this route. it was so incredibly toxic for me. the belief in p shifting itself was harmful to me because I was so caught up in this idea that I didn’t need to have a human life (I had other stuff going on but that arguably makes it worse that I was taught to believe in something this wild while in a very vulnerable state) and I remember staying up really late some nights just trying to p shift. I remember convincing myself my teeth and eyes were changing, I ignored medical problems because I thought they were signs I was turning into a wolf. I ignored my human health because I thought I wasn’t meant to be human. I did not take care of myself at all.

I was taken in by cults and toxic packs with hierarchies based on outdated misinformation about wolves. I fought with people about my p shifting belief so much that I pushed so many people away and only surrounded myself with others who agreed with me.

maybe stop and think- why have you not seen proof of p shifting, if so many people claim they can? why is there no solid evidence? does your friend who claims to be able to p shift have ridiculous rules like that they aren’t allowed to take pictures of their shifts because of the government, yet they’re able to talk freely about it online? do parts of their story ever not line up with things they’ve said before, or not make total sense? why do you think YOU are able to shapeshift and no other human has figured it out aside from a handful of super secretive people online who all have very convenient excuses to not give you solid evidence of their physical shifting?

please look up cult/manipulative behaviors and learn how to recognize them because you WILL encounter these people who are trying to manipulate you in the p shifting community, that is a fact, whether your bestie who claims to totally p shift every week is preying on you or not, someone will. please, please take care of yourself.

I wanted to be a wolf so bad. I was dysphoric and dealing with a lot of mental health issues and an abusive family and wanted SO badly to believe in p shifting that I was willing to deny reality and convince myself I was getting past some mental barrier very slowly. but nothing ever happened. it left me exhausted and hopeless, that was it. I put so much faith into something that just was never ever going to happen, and was so incredibly disappointed. it makes me so sad realizing I wasted a few years of my life trying to do the literal impossible. you can have your beliefs if you really want to but my god, do not center your entire life around a belief that has ZERO basis in reality. do not push away your friends because they disagree with you. do not ruin your human life because you think you will become an animal and run away from society to live in the woods.

also don’t interact if you’re going to argue that actually p shifting is real because of this outdated science article that is extremely vague or because “nothing is impossible, only improbable”. been there, done that, debunked everything you could throw at me and now I’m just tired of seeing young people fall down the wrong path and knowing nothing I can say will convince them that p shifting isn’t real. it’s like trying to tell someone their religion is fake- there’s no way to prove it isn’t real but there’s no proof it exists either (and your super blurry picture of someone wearing a fake mermaid tail doesn’t count as proof), but we all know how religion can hurt people (not always, but it can).

#therian #otherkin

113 notes · View notes

witchbeezy · 2 years

Text

Pick an Image for a Channeled Message

Peace! Tonight I’m sharing channeled messages based on the image you pick.

Please take a moment to ground and center yourself before choosing a pile down below. Then Scroll until you find your message. Thank you so much for reading.

My Other Social Medias:

Tiktok @witchbeezy

IG @witch__beezy

Tarot Youtube Channel

Gaming Youtube Channel

I’m currently not doing personal readings at this time. If anyone who claims to be me reaches out to you for a reading IT IS A SCAM. If you’d like to support me and my work you can do so by liking this post, resharing, and following me. If you’d like to send a donation you can to my Cashapp $ConjureLightandBP

Disclaimer: Don’t force a message to resonate if it doesn’t. Only take what resonates and leave behind what doesn’t. The messages shared here shouldn’t be taken over the advice and guidance of medical and legal professionals as well as your own discernment.

Pile 1

If you selected this image one of the things I got for you was the feeling of confusion and uncertainty. This uncertainty revolves around your place in this world. You may find yourself comparing yourself to others who seemingly have their shit together and have their whole lives mapped out. The other day I got this channeled message about people in boxes and how everyone is given their own box with their own puzzle they need to solve. I feel you guys fall in line with those who are in a box with multiple different puzzles and they are all mixed together AND you don’t have a picture to guide you. The solution to that was to not focus on trying to put the puzzle together in a specific way. You can either decide to leave the puzzle as it is, a complete mess, or you can just put together what you can. Whichever you choose is the right option for you. Your life is like that. You don’t have to have your life completely figured out and you can just continue living it. Or you can try to put something together. It doesn’t have to be a completely perfectly laid out picture. I personally feel those who do have a perfectly laid out picture are actually limited because they are confined to the puzzle they’ve been given. Those who don’t have a specific image to conform to are given the freedom to explore and express who the parts of themselves are and then deconstruct who they thought they were to recreate something else and that's perfectly fine. For you I feel it’s important that you evaluate what your ideal life looks like? It’s important that you don’t put a lot of pressure on yourself to answer this question because remember your gift is that you have the ability to build a picture, but also do away to create a new one when it serves you to do so. I also feel it’s important that you do take a good look at your life. When you’re feeling confused about life and unsure about what you do want. Sometimes it’s easier to recognize what isn’t working or serving you right now. Then instead of focusing on building a life that you want you can focus on building a life that’s the opposite of what you know you don’t want.

Pile 2

I feel your message is a mirror image to pile 1. The energy I got from their pile was confusion and uncertainty. But for you this feels like you’re coming into a space of peace, completeness, and certainty. I feel you guys are closing out a cycle that had you feeling like you weren’t on solid foundation. You guys may be able to relate to Pile 1 as well because I feel that energy may be what you may have experienced, and some of the guidance I gave them you probably used to get yourself to where you are currently. When looking at your image I’m getting the question “what do I do now?” and the answer to that question is nothing. Right now at this moment there is no need for you to do anything. Right now you’re meant to do nothing. I feel the Divine wants that for you. You may find yourself in cycles where your immediate response is to find a way out of this cycle. But you will find your best response when in this cycle is to have no response. Instead it’s important that you balance your nervous system, and allow the Divine to cater to you. A lot of people have the idea that if they take charge and take care of everything that they’ll have peace, but real peace comes from knowing that you don’t have to be in complete control 24/7 and you’ll still be okay and everything will still work out in your best interest. In the last pile I also gave them some insight on a download I had received yesterday. I’m also getting for you a separate download I had received on a different day. That download was this society, the collective, and even our lineage can put certain limitations on us. For example an easy one would be about money. Society and the collective can convince us that we don’t have enough by constantly filling our minds with the story that gas prices and the overall cost of living is going up. For most of us our automatic response is that we have to do something. We either have to find a side hustle or get a second job to keep up with this made up story. Depending on your lineage it can feel hard to rest because just giving your body rest feels wrong due to you coming from a line of people who were hard working because they were under the spell that they needed to be. Most of these problems are worldly and it’s our immediate belief as worldly beings that we have to come up with a worldly solution, but by falling too deeply into your worldly vessel you forget that you are also spiritual. It’s easy to forget that you have an unseen and untouchable tool at your disposal which is Source/The Universe/God whatever you want to call it. In any area that you feel blocked and confused on how you’re going to find a solution that is your cue to take a step back, relinquish your control, and surrender whatever your situation is to Spirit. And I feel there are people out there that don’t believe that they can and that’s because they’ve been sucked up into worldly or 3D programming. Going against your worldly programming takes practice, but it’s so worth it to work on creating balance between your worldly vessel and your Spirit.

Pile 3

When sitting with your image some words came through, and they are play, playground, wonder, and the Jungle Book. I feel the message that you need to hear is that the solution to get yourself out of the dark is to step into your childlike essence. Become curious about the world around you. Lately the Divine has been showing me messages about boxes, and I feel right now your perception of the world and your beliefs about the world is very closed off to all the possibilities. I don’t know why but I want to talk about the Jungle Book, and I might be wrong because I haven’t watched it in a really long time. But what I remember was that Mowgli wanted to stay in the Jungle because it was home and it was fun and his love for the Jungle helped him overlook how much danger he was in. It was the older beings or his guardians that tried to get Mowgli to see that the Jungle was a dangerous place. I feel your inner guardian, this adult version you’ve grown up to be that's been conditioned by the things it experienced, has created distance between your child spirit and this is essentially why you feel locked out of your light and your personal paradise. I feel it’s okay to accept that you are an adult now, but also remember to hold space for your child spirit to play and express itself. Tap into your child spirit’s innocence and natural wonder about the world when you feel like your options are limited or you feel closed off from solutions. I’m hearing there are multiple solutions and outcomes out there for you but you won’t be able to see them from your guardians perspective only with your child spirit’s innocence. I feel you may be experiencing a split between yourself even if you’re not exactly aware of it. By staying too long in your guardian energy and not spending enough time with your child spirit you’ve unintentionally created a divide with yourself. This split is between your physical self and your spirit. Your physical body has adapted to the conditioning, and in order to abide by the conditioning it has to reject the spirit. You may be feeling lost and out of alignment. Unsure of who you are and what you should be. You should be you, and in order to connect to you, you must follow your child spirit because your child spirit is the salve that will heal your fragmented soul.

Pile 4

When sitting with your image I immediately heard the word fairies and also mystic and magic. I feel if you chose this card, I could definitely see some of you being super into wearing the little elf ears and even wings. You might also do that little makeup thing with the blush on the tip of the nose and checks. You don’t have to be, but I do get the energy from you that you like to be eccentric, and you like to look magical. I’m also getting the word moss. You probably feel most magical when you're outside sitting with Nature. I definitely get the energy from you that you're into magic. This may be super specific so only take this if it resonates, but I am getting the message about a recent ritual that you did. This is confirmation that ritual will pay off in your favor. Even if you haven’t done a ritual recently, I feel the message the Divine has for you is to not doubt your magic and don’t be afraid to stand out from the crowd. Your uniqueness is a blessing in a world where conformity is the norm. I also feel that you may sometimes feel bad because you may get made fun of because of your belief in all things mystical, and I’m hearing it’s important that you don’t allow people who don’t have access to magic make you turn your back on yours. I feel you magic has the ability to bring healing to people and to the Earth. I’m seeing a green aura around you. Don’t forget to ground and take care of yourself so that you can continue to do your work and share your healing spirit with the collective because it is definitely needed. I hope you don’t mind, but I just have this strong urge to say I love you and I am so happy you’re here. I just feel that with my heart even though I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Going back to what I was saying earlier about how other people may try to put doubt into you regarding your magic. I feel this magic has been passed down to you by your Ancestors, although it may have skipped previous generations because they rejected the magic or couldn’t tap into it. You’ll know this is true if you find that most of your magic and rituals come from out of nowhere. You don’t do a lot of research; you just have a natural bond with the land and your gifts, and you just listen to your own drum. This is your Ancestors way of communicating with you by passing on information to you. This may happen mostly in your dreams because I’m seeing some of you rise with new rituals and new knowledge on your mind.

420 notes · View notes

phleb0tomist · 2 months

Note

I was wondering what the diagnosis process looked like for you in regards to me/cfs? What tests were done? (Only asking because I suspect I may have it, however my general doctor got my blood drawn (even though there are no known tests to diagnose cfs/me), and tests results came back normal. They blamed it on my medications, but I've been experiencing the symptoms way before I took the medications.)

Now I'm having to call and ask them what I'm supposed to do, since I'm struggling.

Have you struggled getting an evaluation?

How did you make others believe and advocate for you?

Not forced to answer at all btw!

hello there. i’m sorry you’ve been struggling and that your healthcare has been lacklustre! this post is going to be long so strap in <3

the diagnosis process varies from doctor to doctor. tbh many doctors are reluctant to consider ME even if it’s a severe case or a very classic case because they generally aren’t taught how to recognise it. it can be helpful to send your doctor links to official resources so they have a framework for helping you. if i were you, I’d look up the official guidelines for suspecting ME/CFS in your country and either send a link to your doctor or print them out. most doctors i meet will admit to my face that they haven’t read the guidelines for ME, so basically they’re not informed on suspecting, diagnosing, or treating it. in the UK where I live, the NICE guidelines explain the steps that should be taken if ME is suspected.

ME/CFS is a diagnosis of exclusion, so basically they do standard tests (like blood tests) first to make sure your symptoms aren’t caused by any other condition. once they’ve ruled out other causes, they see if you meet the ME/CFS criteria they use in your area. (in theory, diagnosis should take 3-6 months, but a lot of docs take a ‘wait and see’ approach instead, which can sometimes last years. personally i don’t think a ‘wait and see’ approach is appropriate, especially if you’re young. you may have to be assertive and ask multiple times to be evaluated. bear in mind it’s the system failing, not you.) the way they decide if you meet the criteria is by discussing your symptom history, which might take a few appointments. the best way to advocate for yourself is to bring another person to back you up (sorry to say this but statistically, it helps if it’s a male family member), to have a list of your symptoms and a timeline written down, and to be clear about the practical ways that your symptoms impact your life. i.e. “it takes me (x amount of time) to recover from going on a short walk. this symptom gets worse (x amount of time) after i do a particular activity and lasts (x days). i can no longer do x activity at all because of my symptoms. I’ve tried x y and z and it hasn’t improved my symptoms. I want to get my quality of life back.”

I don’t remember my diagnosis process very well. i had major symptoms for several years before ME was even considered, i was repeatedly brushed off and told my symptoms were from my autism even though that doesn’t add up. interestingly i was given treatments before I had a diagnosis. then i had a ‘working diagnosis’ of ME in my teens, which is where they think you probably have something but they don’t put it in your file till they’re sure. i’ve had a proper diagnosis on my file for years now, but i don’t know when it got there or who put it there. (??) the diagnosis process can be kinda weird. mine took forever but i know other people who were diagnosed quickly and efficiently, so it’s not impossible.

personally i had a lot of random tests, blood tests to CT scans to x rays, basically any test that was related to my symptoms (like a head MRI for headaches). i do actually have other conditions which show up on tests (like scoliosis), but since scoliosis cannot possibly be causing my specific pattern of exertion-related symptoms, i still got diagnosed with ME. having another condition or having medication side effects does not mean you can’t also have ME! especially if your symptoms started before you took the meds, like you said.

i feel like i’ve rambled enough. i hope this was helpful. if you have any more questions please send another ask and I’ll try my best to answer!

#answered #long post #txt #myalgic encephalomyelitis #chronic illness

9 notes · View notes

tw-episodereactions · 9 months

Text

Teen Wolf 1x02

Aaaand we start off with shirtless boy again.

Out of curiosity, why is Stiles not freaked out about Scott playing lacrosse, which would also raise his heart rate? Is it specifically a night of the full moon thing?

Well clearly it’s not just a full moon thing.

So the first time his eyes change it’s to comfort the dog. The second time is because he’s afraid for Allison. It’s the third eye change and now it’s about anger. But even when it’s about anger, he was already feeling a lot of emotions because of Mr. Argent.

It’s just interesting to me that they waited so long to show us Scott’s anger making him shift when it was like the first thing Stiles mentioned when he finally decided Scott was a werewolf. He’s a teenage boy under a lot of pressure, but it’s been at least a week.

I guess technically he clawed up Stiles’ chair, but even then his eyes didn’t change. I don’t know why I find his eyes a more significant part of the change than anything else, but I do. Maybe because that’s how he’s literally seeing the world.

Oh great. Derek McFuckface being both useless and creepy.

Huh, so, like, was it like a rage blackout? Why didn’t he remember this time when he remembered what happened with fuckstick in the woods?

Oh man, this poor kid. He just wanted to play. That was like the first thing we learned about him. Instead he gets all that trauma from the attack, from his first transformation, from Derek & the hunters. And now the one thing he wanted is getting taken away too.

Hey, is his mom actually a doctor/nurse? Maybe he did have all that bandage stuff at home.

So they have money problems, and it’s not just Scott working for extra cash. Pretty nice house for having money problems, but honestly compared to the other houses we’ve seen it’s basically a shack.

I wonder how long he’s been working at the vet? Probably a while, right if they’ve let him be there by himself.

Wait, did we ever figure out how old these kids were supposed to be? Jackson and Allison seem older than Scott, Stiles, and Lydia, but Allison is in Scott’s class, so maybe her schooling is all messed up because they moved around so much?

Lol, oh my god, Scott. This scene between him and his mother is hilarious. Also, where’s his dad? I assume he’s not in the picture.

Oh goody, violent stalker Derek is back. Is it just violence this time or violence and manipulation? Or maybe you’re going to say he should be grateful again, you dogshit excuse for a person.

Even better! Threats of murder! This guy is the absolute worst. Hey, let’s violently attack this kid and turn him into a nightmare monster with no support or instruction, then attack him again for no reason and show him how people are hunting him by getting him shot, and then try to like trauma bond with him and tell him he should be grateful about it, and then threaten to kill him after you’ve given him absolutely nothing but abuse?!?!?!

Umm, like, perhaps this ginormous waste of space should be hunted down like a feral animal.

The first time Scott tries to get away without explaining anything it works, but it’s definitely not working for him this episode. Fake an injury, kid. Not sure how he’d do that with his mom being some sort of medical person, but he could give it a shot.

Okay, so who the fuck is that? If it was creepy Derek they would have shown him, so it’s gotta be another werewolf. Who is also creepy.

Fellas, are all the werewolves but Scott going to be evil in this? Maybe we’re going back to Kafka and the whole being treated as monstrous leads you into becoming a monster and Scott with his sweet heart and slowness to anger having to fight against that. Which is a little bit heartbreaking.

On the one hand, Scott was being weird and intense. On the other, I’d’ve been a little weirded out about the whole Derek thing if I were her. Because she only went with him because he said he was Scott’s friend but now Scott’s saying that’s not true and if she thought about it for a hot second she’d probably remember she was wearing the jacket in Derek’s car.

Lol, okay, so Scott can be impulsive too, I guess. Sure, go straight toward the guy who threatened to kill you because he also might be a threat to Allison.

“You don’t get it, but I’m looking out for you,” says the guy who literally threatened to murder him the day before.

Also, he’s not fucking looking out for Scott, he’s looking out for himself. “If they find out about you, they find out about me,” is exactly what he said. He doesn’t give a shit about Scott.

It’s clear he’s been stalking more than just Scott too.

This bitch. I cannot tell you how much I loathe this guy. On the plus side, it’s clear that Smugface Shitboy thinks he’s in the right, and that’s always the best kind of villain.

I do like how proactive Scott is being about this. Like, he’s working the problem. Maybe not elegantly- or even effectively at this moment - but he’s not letting his trauma or fear stop him from trying to live his life.

So Morgue was not my first thought here. What the hell, kid.

Stiles is being way less creepy this episode. Also, way less mean to Scott. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I have big feelings about athletes pushing themselves through injury, specifically high school and college athletes doing that, so Lydia is officially on my shit list.

The scent was the same?! I shall not call bullshit because this is a supernatural show, but with all the scents in a hospital morgue and how new he is at this it’s a little suspect.

Also, not to give Fuckface any credit, but burying the body doesn’t make him a murderer, he could just be creepy. I mean, I get where Scott’s coming from with the whole dead body plus he literally threatened to murder Scott so I wouldn’t put it past him, I’m just saying it’s not conclusive. This doesn’t mean they shouldn’t throw the law at him though. Maybe the cops can actually be useful for something.

You know what? I like that they clarified that Scott isn’t just doing this because of the game. Like, even without that him throwing the cops at Derek is totally justified, but Scott’s not going along with Stiles being giddy about body parts anymore, she’s officially become a person in his eyes who was violently attacked just like he was.

Bad call, boys, you’re disturbing evidence.

Scott, I’m sorry, you were expecting Stiles to actually have a good plan? That doesn’t seem like him at all.

Lol, I was going to laugh at the incongruity of one single, perfect flower, but I guess it was like that on purpose.

Scott looks sad when they’re taking Fuckface out in cuffs. Again, it just hammers home that she wasn’t just body parts, she was a person and now he knows that she was a werewolf like him. Like, was she stalked and threatened by Fuckface too? Was she traumatized and afraid for her life like Scott has been? Was she trying to protect people too?

Oh, man. Poor impulse control Stiles strikes again. And Scott’s freaking out because he knows Fuckface has been stalking Stiles already.

Okay, so once again, Fuckface doesn’t really seem to care that Scott might hurt someone, or even that Scott might get hurt, he only cares about their secret getting out. Maybe this is some sort of weird game he and the other werewolf play: one of them violently turns someone, the other toys with the victim and manipulates them, and then they kill them together before their secret can be revealed, each of them getting a piece.

See, the problem with Stiles is that half the time his dipshit plans work out so he gets overconfident and comes up with more dipshit plans.

Uh, something is wrong here. Why does Scott look like he’s fighting off sleep?

Oh, okay, he’s fighting off wolfsbane poisoning maybe? That took a while actually. One presumes Stiles had it with them the whole time he drove Scott home the night before, then picked him up the next day and is now driving him back again.

Oh that’s not good.

Scott? What are you doing, buddy?

Obligatory frightened by his own reflection scene.

Scott! Perfect opportunity to pretend injury and not play in the game! Use this!

Ugh! Terrible wasted opportunity. He’s not any better than Stiles at thinking on his feet. Does usually plan better though.

Lol at him apologizing for getting run over.

Oh, poor baby. It’s like he traded one chronic illness for another, and he’s used to having to accommodate for asthma, but lycanthropy comes with a whole new set of accommodations that’s he’s got to learn because it’s also life or death.

Stiles, bud. Not helping. Negative helping.

So Lydia will manipulate and threaten Scott to win, but when he scores she’s all begrudging about clapping? That seems off. Like, she clapped when Scott was awesome during trying outs to tweak Jackson’s competitiveness, but not during a game they were losing? Inconsistent characterization right there.

Allison just walking into the locker room like nbd. And then walking into the showers.

Boy you just calmed yourself down!

Stiles, stop being creepy. But he is trying to be a good bro.

Laura Hale neatly severed. Yeah, it’s totally an animal attack. It being his sister actually makes Fuckface look more creepy somehow.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN. The holes in the gloves would have had more impact if Stiles hadn’t bitten through the tips of his own gloves like three times in that game.

Fuckface has spotted another victim! This one’s as much of a douche as him!

#teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #derek hale #episode reaction #1x02

17 notes · View notes

femmeferengi · 2 months

Note

would love to hear more about your ocs if you’d like to share!

I’d love to!!! gonna put it under a read more so it doesn’t clog up anything

My ocs are (mostly) from this little farming moon colony in Cardassian space that was basically abandoned to be self-sufficient after the dominion war.

so essentially you remember the Maquis storyline where it said that all of them are in prison or dead or Voyager? I’m ignoring that a little but also using that. basically in the blind terror of getting away from the dominion a marquis cell (so about a dozen/two dozen people roughly) crashed onto this moon

There are basically two sets of ocs - the merge generation, where one of the farming districts, the Taar district, starts incorporating the maquis into their community due to need and resignation, and then there’s the colony collapse generation, which is the kids from the merge generation all grown up and contact a relief mission to help them before they lose their home

As for actual ocs, ive fleshed out the kids more because that’s where i started. Carver Raju Taar and Lelli Kozett are my favourites/most formed. Carver and Lelli are also the first Maquis-Cardassian merge children to be born, so they’ve been pretty knee-deep in all the politics over the roughly 25-30 years the colony has been on its own.

Taar’s mother Priya was an ex-Starfleet human Maquis that was pregnant when they crashed and presumed dead for a while after she disappeared. She was rescued and helped by Gena Taar and eventually they formed a bond. Carver was adopted by Gena after Priya died when he was still a baby, with Priya’s consent. Gena was pretty important politically for the colony and her adoption of Carver really fucked things up lol but no one could really tell her no and by the time people found out Lelli’s parents had gotten together so it was just dealt with in stride. Carver actually ends up being the person slated to take over for the district in the end, despite having older cousins, so he gets to be stressed about responsibility and a family legacy he has been routinely estranged from that he still longs to maintain. poor guy lol

Lelli’s half betazoid, half cardassian. Jaska Kozett and Eirris Zei were assigned to work together once the cell was discovered and subsequently fell in love. The maquis kinda saw it coming (Eirris wasn’t subtle) and so this was accepted with resignation. Jaska is important to the district, not entirely sure how yet, so she was pretty brazen once their relationship was public. Lelli is kind of a rainbow baby, her siblings didn’t survive, and she spent much of her childhood being smothered by her parents whenever she wasn’t with the district doctor. As a teenager her psionic abilities developed abnormally; she projects her own emotions constantly but has no read on others. Her dad managed to convince Vossa, a Vulcan (and Maquis), to teach her how to control her emotions when controlling the projection appeared to fail. As an adult Lelli has taken over most of the district doctor duties in secret with her mentor’s secret failing health. She’s also stressed lol and still completely unqualified to do the medical stuff she’s doing. She wants to leave the colony but responsibility keeps her there.

My other guys aren’t as developed/concrete yet but im concentrating on the district and cell rn haha. timeline wise i think that in the end the colony just cannot sustain itself and the kids who have defined themselves through their roles to the community are forced to reckon with what to do when that community may no longer exist ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it’s a work in progress!!

#it’s been so long and yet it all still feels so half formed #but the story mostly follows Lelli and carver who btw don’t even like each other very much #they have a political alliance but they’re very much frenemies. no one else understands them but they can’t stand each other #very funny to me. what if you were besties with your work rival #anyway thank you for asking to hear more!!! i love shouting into the void so it’s nice when the void shouts back #fennels log #moon colony ocs

2 notes · View notes

footnotesandendings · 10 months

Text

meme

Tagged by @heffer-wen, I think this is a "getting to know people better" meme? Not tagging but feel free if you want! Includes WIP snippets at the end.

last song: hmmm not a fun answer but I have a friend visiting and we were driving around earlier with So Much (for) Stardust playing in the car. I don’t remember what was playing when we parked, though, so let’s just go with the title song.

currently reading: <em>To Name the Bigger Lie</em> by Sarah Viren, which is subtitled “A Memoir In Two Stories.” The first thread is about a teacher she had in high school who was supposed to be teaching philosophy and instead took the idea of “what is truth?” and taught conspiracy theories (including Holocaust denial!!!). The second thread is about her wife (a university professor) being accused of sexual harassment. I’m only about halfway through so I don’t know how they tie together (besides the idea of “what is truth and how is it manufactured”) or how it ends.

Also friend and I have gone to several bookstores and my TBR pile is back up to 40, so. That.

currently watching: I wish I still had the ability to watch TV! When will my sports come back! (like next week, since I’m going to watch the women’s World Cup.) I do need to regain the ability to watch fictional TV other than Ted Lasso, since that’s over. I’m not open for recs at the moment but possibly soon.

latest obsession: I don’t have one right now and it makes life boring. I guess the thing I think about most while staring off into space is still Jordan/Virgil.

tall or short?: Short-ish. A little under average.

student or worker?: Worker, but with what the internet loves to call a “stupid little emails job” so do what you want with that.

colour: Blue.

flower: Ooh that’s a good question. Hmm. I planted coneflowers earlier this year and half of them died but the half that made it are just starting to bloom and I’m so proud of them, so I guess them right now.

food: Bread. Give me your carbs if you don’t want them.

WIP: A few things lurching toward being done.

1. The big Jamie hurt/comfort fic that is also ot3 and is going to be 50k by the time I add the last few scenes why does the universe make me suffer. Snip:

Then they have film review, which is boring, and he puts his jacket across his lap so he can text Keeley underneath it. She’s free after training and she’ll take him to a shop to look at planners and notebooks and then show him how to do something called bullet journaling, which sounds absolutely mad and confusing but he’ll give it a try if it makes her happy.

Roy comes over and leans down next to him just after they’ve finalized their plans. “You are either texting or having a wank under that jacket,” he says quietly, “and I don’t want to know which but either way you need to stop and pay attention.”

“I wouldn’t wank in front of all the lads,” Jamie whispers back. “That’s harassment. We watched a film about it.”

2. The one where Virgil is Virgil but Jordan went into ballet instead of football.

He was just out the doors and into the corridor when a voice came from behind him. “Excuse me.”

Virgil braced himself a little—being recognized in public was part of the job, but he was tired and his foot ached and it was a fucking medical office, for god’s sake—but stopped and looked back. “Yes?”

It was the blue-eyed man, holding out Virgil’s AirPods case. “This fell out of your pocket.”

“Oh.” Virgil went back and accepted it, noting in a distant part of his mind that the logo on the man’s jacket was a simple text one spelling out NORTHERN BALLET. “Thank you.”

The man tucked his hands in his jacket pockets. “Awful to lose those.”

“It is. But easy to do.”

That got him a faint smile, just a twist of the lips. Thin, pink lips, settled in a neatly trimmed beard. Everything about the man was meticulous, his hair gelled mercilessly into place, his fingernails short and spotless when Virgil had taken the case from him. “I’ve had to switch to buying the cheapest brand. That way I’m not out a few hundred quid every time I lose them or run them through the wash.”

“Don’t remind me.” Virgil tucked the case in his pocket and offered his hand. “I’m Virgil, by the way.”

That gets another smile, wider. “Did I play it cool enough that you didn’t know I recognized you?”

3. The one where they’re both at Liverpool but Jordan is a woman.

Virgil knows that watching a woman for half an hour without talking to her is creepy. In his defence, she's out in the middle of the training pitch, which is sort of the center of attention for anyone going in or out of the indoor facility. He had been on the way to his car with Milner and Robertson and stopped at the sound of a ball clanging off the crossbar.

"Who's that?" he'd asked, though her LFC women's team training kit narrowed it down a bit. He'd only been in Liverpool for a few weeks, though, he didn't know the women's side yet.

Robbo squinted across the pitch. "Oh. That's the women's captain. Horseface."

Milner slapped the back of Robbo's head. "Try again."

"Henderson, ow, Jordan Henderson. You don't have to hit me, the girls call her that too."

5 notes · View notes

kajordi · 6 months

Text

I Demand to See the Ambassador Story

I DEMAND TO SEE THE AMBASSADOR - read the sign written in beautiful Mkhedruli alphabet, the ancient characters of the Georgian language are delectable and readable to only around 4 million people worldwide. I deciphered the message in less than the 5 steps it took me to walk past it, thanks, in part, to my remarkable ability to read the English translation below it. The man and his two companions held the sign near the impenetrable US Embassy. My usual curiosity compels me to engage them. What serious issue requires such a demand? My 10 minutes remaining lunch break prevents me from satisfying my inquisitive nature.

I wish people would stop and think about persuasive communication for a bit. Your wife surely loves you, right? How would it go if next time you need to talk about something important you begin with: Wife, I demand you listen to me! Wouldn’t, please give me a minute dear, be far more conducive?

I enter my dad’s office as I would any other room at home. I announce myself and greet everyone with a hello and a smile. Then quietly sit down and wait on him. I get pacy then sleepy from waiting. My ass hurts after 45 minutes on the darn wooden bench, which, I'm convinced, dad chose brilliantly for the purpose of shortening meetings. I don’t mind waiting. My father is an important man with 900 people under his management. Well, he and the group of cousins. Not anyone has access to my dad. Had it been our trustworthy Olivio, it would have taken him a 5-hour trip to see him and probably an additional four waiting on him to go back feeling very grateful and accomplished in securing some medical treatment favor. I, on the other hand, have access to dad and I am his top priority.

I met the Ambassador the day before. I didn’t recognize her. She was so friendly and interested in me that I felt okay to casually sit by her and chat. The exchange was so delightful that I wanted to remember her name, so I asked someone nearby. That’s when I realized that I had spoken to someone powerful and important.

I hear President Biden may go down in history as one of America’s great presidents. The complaints against him are rather of being far too personable and treating strangers like dear friends: He spoke too close to me, put his arms on my shoulders, kissed my forehead-type of grievances. I can easily imagine talking about my kids with him as I did with my honorable Ambassador. But this, I will not have the chance to. Biden is an important man. And while I have no doubt he would show interest in our chat, he has a crushing weight of responsibilities to attend to and not enough lifetimes to deal with them.

Pondering about access to powerful people I came to think about the Creator whom I affectionately call Heavenly Father. How many times have I demanded action from Him? He didn’t smack me for my impertinence as my own dad would have. At most, He ignored me a bit. Would it not be more favorable for me to try to be a little more persuasive? To humbly ask for an audience that I don’t deserve based on my bargaining power or merit and show some gratitude for it?

Then I thought about my friend George, whom I had the pleasure of seeing recently after a couple of years. George says he no longer believes in God. It made me a bit sad. I doubt my sign holder thought about preparing a manifesto or communique to deliver to the Embassy. They would have taken it. I’m pleased my sign holder believes the Ambassador exists and has the power to do something about his situation. Whether my friend George believes in God or not, God can do something about his needs. Whether George notices it, or not, God is pulling strings to his benefit. Yet some people tend to find favor among men. They’ve figured something out. And a further yet, there are a few people that seem to find high levels of favor with God. It would be good for us to figure this one out.

#persuasion #powerful people #ambassador #God #children #faith #father #favor

2 notes · View notes

vomitdodger · 2 years

Text

People don’t realize how dangerous this really is. A fact based conversation on known and emerging info, whether it pans out eventually or not is key to a proper doctor relationship. Informed consent and shared decision making has always been a hallmark mantra of the medical bureaucrats who talk big but don’t share the risk. These two hallmarks are a good thing but they’ve taken that away. They are silencing any discussion including individual provider insight which has always determined quality care. Given the last two years of Covid lies much of the population is educated on just how this corrupted system works and will do their own research which is a good thing. But now there’s the conundrum of informed patients wanting to discuss certain things and it’s stifled. Physicians have already been threatened by state boards and their board certifying agencies. Now it’s a law. Add in that some 80% of prescriptions are for “off labeled use” and medical care has become state sponsored communist care. AT BEST. It targets those providers who don’t bow as a proper slave to the state. Remember some of those most outspoken about the Covid lies came from…Commiefornia. Can’t have THAT again. It will just be another Goebell inspired way to manipulate and without care…and in the case of Covid for the first year…intentionally kill people. THE BEST of the providers will be stifled or pushed out. The effect of this bill will have long to come repercussions. But then again it’s Commiefornia. They could care less. Wonder if they have the next Plandemic already planned and getting this out front to set the stage.

20 notes · View notes

empty-masks · 1 year

Text

Book Four, Chapter Six

CW: Strong Language, Sexual References, Graphic Violence, Fantasy Bigotry, Smoking, Alcohol Use, Light Body Horror

The road to Pickman’s Hope from Fusillade is dull. There’s not much to see, as scenic views have yet to be shaved through the dense, forested mountains for in-transit nature porn. Not even the mountains themselves particularly are eye-catching, thanks to the roadside underbrush masking any idyllic uphill environments. In a way, the road had been made in such a way that would allow for two things— cars to get where they’re going, and people to follow in case they get lost.

Brie felt as though she would prefer the latter, as her mind heats up in an oven of poor sleep and the concept of being sacked. Her hands grip the wheel a little harder than usual, as the thoughts bubble up in her head— she had never been sacked before, what would that even feel like? It sounds like it’s humiliating, or maybe it could be painful. But, it’s just a contract, it’s not like them ripping up a slip of paper could be that painful. Unless they’ve got something else in mind. But what would they have in mind? A company isn’t a single mind, they’re a bunch of minds who operate on the same field. But what if her boss, Hickory was her name, she recalls hazily, what if she doesn’t want her on the job anymore? Why had she taken the job in the first place?

Was the job even something she was interested in? She had taken it on short notice, after all. She didn’t even remember the job prerequisites. There was just a notice nearby, she had applied since she needed the work, and she got the job immediately. Maybe that should’ve been a turn-off. Jobs that accept you on the fly like that are probably a bad idea.

“Roxanne,” she asks, turning her head to the Medic, who is enjoying the cool weather through her open shotgun window.

“Yes, Ms. Brie?” “Would you say that a job is shifty if they accept your application almost immediately after you apply?”

Roxanne turns to face her as well, pointing ahead of them. “Eyes on the road, please. Yes, I would say so.”

Brie turns her head back, and sighs. “I was foolish to have accepted this contract, then.” “I would have to agree, Ms. Brie. This has been a clown show, if I’m being frank. A very deadly clown show. And you haven’t struck me as one for clowns.”

“Do you recall how much a contractor such as me would be paid, if I don’t end up being sacked?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Do you recall if I am to be paid at all if I’m sacked?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Ah,” she says.

The thoughts begin to bubble again. Wasn’t the reason she had accepted the job in the first place because she needed the cash, and that Shepherd Gemstone was offering quite the large payment upon completion of the contract? If she’s not going to be paid for all of her hard work, then this would mean she’s in the negative. Pretty hard, too. And that’s not something her girlfriend is going to be happy about, considering how her last contract up and voided her once they’d noticed Brie was going out of her way to investigate things outside the perimeters of their agreement. In fact, the only reason Brie was able to avoid proper legal persecution is because the city had backed her, as exposing an underground gambling ring run by her very same employers was something of a heroic deed back in those parts of the world. She was given compensation from the city— but she never saw a cent from the employer. Hell, in retrospect, she realizes that THAT job was probably too shifty for her own good, too. It would be a little funny if it weren’t so dangerous. How does she keep doing this to herself?

She opens her mouth to ask that to Roxanne, but closes it before any words come out, realizing how it would sound. Perhaps a different approach would be more appropriate.

“Roxanne,” she says.

“Yes, Ms. Brie?”

“Am I gullible?”

“Absolutely not,” the Medic responds. “You’re one of the least gullible people I know.”

Brie scrunches up her face. “Are you being sarcastic?” “No ma’am, I am not. I wouldn’t call you gullible, rather something like ‘very good at pursuing things you realize aren’t good for your health in hindsight’, if there’s a word for that. Would you agree with me?”

“Yes, I think I would.”

“The first step to getting better is realizing there’s a problem,” Roxanne says, holding up a finger. “There’s nothing worse than not knowing you have a problem.”

“I would have to agree there, too,” Brie frowns.

Shifting in her seat, Roxanne looks over her shoulder to check up on Meat. Their body, arms crossed and skull resting lightly on a headrest, appears to have shut down somewhat. They said they were going to try and sleep, partially to pass the time and partially to parse whether they could, but it looked more as though the two were transporting a corpse in Brie’s sedan. It’s especially hard to tell, since the flames burning in Meat’s eyes never quite go out. For all Roxanne knows, they could still be awake.

“Well, I suppose it’s as good a road conversation as anything else,” Roxanne says, returning to her normal position.

“Is there something—”

“Did you ever meet my boyfriend?” she asks, cutting Brie off.

A moment of silence falls between them.

“You have a boyfriend?” Brie asks.

“Yes and no. We’ve dated for decades on and off. Some days I would’ve liked to murder him, and some days I seriously considered marrying him. But right now, I would say we’re off again. Thanks to circumstance, mostly.”

“That’s unusual.”

“He’s one of the people you’re hunting for your job, Miss Brie,” she chuckles.

“Unusual doesn’t do it justice.”

The Detective’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head. “I have been hunting your boyfriend as a part of my investigation contract?! He’s one of the escaped miners?!”

Roxanne laughs again. “I should’ve introduced you two back in Kiln. I think you would’ve gotten along.”

“Roxanne, why didn’t you tell me this from the beginning? I would have…” she trails off, realizing that actually, there’s little she could’ve done. “It would have been useful to know.”

“Useful for what? It would’ve meant that you’d have had this epiphany about Shepherd Gemstone earlier in your contract, sure. But at the time, you were still quite adamant about seeing things through, and we didn’t know each other as well. If anything,” Roxanne says, “it probably would’ve put you in a nasty position— leave the little old crippled lady in Kiln as bait for her jackrabbit to come home, or keep her with you as bait for him wherever he may be.”

“I would never do that to you, Roxanne,” Brie says, her voice hitching a little.

“Now, you wouldn’t. But back then, I had to be more careful. Catching a ride with you meant keeping some things secret.”

“I… that is. Very upsetting.”

Roxanne smiles empathetically, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, honey. I know it was a little mean, but I think it’ll help put things more into perspective for you. Shepherd Gemstone was known to hire folks who’d do that kind of stuff, so when I saw you on the site, I had to assume the same.”

“They do?”

“They absolutely do. How do you think they’re able to keep a decent profit margin despite all the damage they cause?”

Brie pats the notebook she keeps in her left-hand pocket. “Tens of thousands of Tilt’s worth. But they hire… bandit-types to handle it?” she frowns.

“Exactly that. Bandit-types is the appropriate term,” Roxanne says, patting her on the shoulder.

“I am not a bandit-type.”

“And I realized this only once we had left Kiln.”

“Thus, up until that point, you had to treat me as though I was.”

“Yes, Ms. Brie.”

As the silence fills the space between them again, Roxanne decides to break it with something a little more lighthearted. “Would you like to hear how I met him?”

Brie nods, maintaining her deep-thought frown.

“I popped his fingers back into place.”

“What?” Brie suddenly says, her face shifting back to something less pouty.

“He had just finished fighting at a local ring. Had a date to get to, and he wanted to show up with nothing dislocated for once. So, he visits me to pop a couple fingers back into place. Goodness, I remember how he howled like a dog at the moon every time I set one. But, we ended up bonding over it, since he dealt with pain by telling jokes and stories. He had some real good stories.”

“He had a date the same night he got into a fight?”

“A scheduled fight, mind you. From what I heard, though,” Roxanne says, leaning in close, “it never went anywhere. His opponent wasn’t happy about his loss, and so happened to be one of the friends of his date. The loser showed up to the date, got his tail kicked again, and had to run home crying. But, after being kicked to the curb, Azariah came to me. And the rest is history, I suppose. Goodness me, it’s been over forty years, hasn’t it.”

“That’s… a very long time.”

“Longer than you’ve been around?” “Very much so, yes.”

The Medic smiles. “There’s a lot of history there, Ms. Brie. But,” she says, leaning over her seat again, “I would like to know if we have another listener in the car.”

Meat cracks their neck, sitting up and stretching their arms a little. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

“I had a hunch,” Roxanne replies.

“Is that car still following us?”

Both Brie and Roxanne look at one another briefly, then at Meat.

“There has been a car following us?” Brie asks.

“Yeah,” they say. “Ever since we left Fusillade. I think they noticed me looking at them. I haven’t seen them for a couple miles.”

“Well,” Roxanne pats Brie on the shoulder again. “I think I’ll save those stories for later, then.”

==============================================================

Hieronymus T. Thistle is, by no means, a man of wealth— nor is he one of taste or of staunch morals. As expected of his appearance, that being of a person crossed with a manner of tumbleweed, which has long resulted in him being closer in visage to a skeleton with small, thorny branches for hair and eyes that nearly pop out of his skull, he does have a spine physically, just not one in the less literal sense. A spine of that sort requires some kind of belief to cling to, some great motivation to use as a shield or armor, and to wield as a blade when the time comes. Mr. Thistle lacks these things in plenty, as while he gets to live with many of the older folks in the community and often tells stories of his involvement in the overthrow of Shepherd Gemstone— he’s still on the payroll.

Nobody thinks it even a bit weird that he’s never really had to put himself out there in a long time to keep his lifestyle afloat, that being of a curmudgeonly prick who’s also equal parts nosy neighbor and hermetic jerk. He goes to every single union meeting, sure, and he talks often with those old guard types who come by his rather unsettlingly well kept lawn, but this is all just resource gathering. He hasn’t really cared for these people in a long time, perhaps closer to ever, since he never was one of them in the first place. He’d been on the company payroll for longer than the town had been called “Pickman’s Hope,” and had, ever since drifting in, been a remarkable spy.

It was more difficult back in the day than it is right now, of course. Back then he had to actually pretend to like his neighbors and his companions, to show some investment in his community and hatred toward the over-corporatized hellscape that constituted the big cities. Over time, while many of those he had to fool into being his friends grew thick whiskers and their muzzles turned gray, he simply reverted to being himself. A quirk of being old, he supposes, is that nobody bothers questioning why you don’t like them anymore. They just assume you’re tired, or maybe that you’ve gotten to the point where you’ll be damned before you spend another minute of what you have left pretending to be nice.

His old friends don’t question his loyalty to the town and to the working folk from their time with him; the younger ones don’t question it because he’s always been around and always been like this, so to assume Old Man Thistle’s some kind of corporate spy and has been since before the town rebuilt itself is tantamount to accusing your own great uncle or grandpa of selling your secrets to a serial killer. It could certainly happen, yes, but if you’re not perfectly, one-hundred percent certain that that is what’s going on, there’s a perfectly sizable chance you’re just screaming at someone whose weirdness can still be ascribed to age.

With a combination of time and age, just the right amount of hospitality and curmudgeonly habits, Hieronymus T. Thistle has constructed the perfect cover to often and routinely send out packets of information to Shepherd Gemstone HQ for a very steady pay that, at this moment, he keeps shoved inside of his mattress. He knows better than to live beyond the means expected of a man supposedly making most of his money off of goodwill from the town and some decent investments around it. After all, behind closed doors he was one of the folks helping to bankroll the Bleeding Scab, among various other local haunts that raked in the bucks. Thistle is so perfectly set up that, upon their arrival, he had to convince Piper that this house is, in fact, that of the man she was told about and that, yes, he is the Shepherd informant.

That was irritating enough, and so was having to park his car out on the street like some kind of animal while she put her lavish vehicle in his garage, because if there’s anything worse than his car being out on the street it’d be her car attracting attention. Not to mention the two absolute mercenaries she’d dragged in, along with herself, out in this place looking like the worst of the worst. It’s more than he can handle, and for a moment while the three shove their things into the guest rooms of his house he has a small tantrum.

After the sun’s risen and after combing his bristles and thorns back on his head, readjusting his bedtime robe, he returns to the three of them and says, “Alright, welcome to Pickman’s Hope, best call it that. Second, you three need to be careful. I get it that none of you had anywhere else to go, but I’ve got a good thing goin’ here and I wouldn’t appreciate you blowin’ it.” His first mistake aside from being on the corporate payroll at all is to point even a single finger at Piper during this diatribe.

She’s amused when she thinks it’s directed at Jules and Lucille, and far less amused when she realizes the old man’s talking to her. This earns him a quick, almost businesslike punch in the throat, which sends him to the floor gasping and clutching at his neck. “You speak when I say you can speak, you tricksy lil’ fuck…”

By the time Lucille’s come over to grab Piper by the arms and back her off, Piper’s already kicked Thistle in the ribs for good measure. Jules, an arm still largely out of commission and a leg in a brace, busies himself trying to drag Thistle away, a concerned look on his gray face.

“Get out of my way.” Piper hisses, eyes locking with Lucille’s as the latter continues to hold her— though by the very second she can feel Piper getting stronger, harder to control. “I’m gonna shove my boot into that old rat’s craw! Let go!”

“Don’t make a scene!” Lucille grips harder, twisting Piper’s wrists awkwardly to leverage technique over brawn. “It’s barely morning you ass! We haven’t been here more than a few hours and you’re going to ruin it!”

The struggle continues for a second until Jules returns, clearing his throat and saying, “You two need to cut this shit out.” There’s no comedy in his voice, nor is there any authority. He’s tired.

Lucille lets go first, but Piper doesn’t storm away. Instead she spits some venom onto the floor and rubs at her wrists before telling them both, “Fine. Y’all act like I was gonna kill him or something. I’m not stupid.”

“If you weren’t trying to kill that old man,” Lucille begins, eyes narrowed, “then what were you doing?”

Without a hint of hesitation, the reply is thus, laced with a long hiss and no small amount of malice, “Reminding him of his place, something you two morons need to keep straight as well. Besides, it’s not like there’s any reason to feel bad for him.”

“What do you mean?” Jules tilts his head as he settles back onto his temporary bed. “Damn near snapped his neck with that punch, you’re lucky he can still breathe.”

Turning around to face away, Piper speaks as she stops in the exit to the rest of the house. “The man’s making a living selling the secrets of this town as an informant, J. Names, addresses, exchanging of goods and trade deals, all of it. And all the while, everyone around him thinks he’s just another neighbor.” She grins over her shoulder toward them. “Honestly it’s a little insulting that he’s been so successful and all he’s done is send letters. People have died because of his pen. Amazing, ain’t it?”

Lucille rolls her shoulders, then settles into a spot sitting beside Jules. “So?”

“So he’s a rat.” Piper snickers. “Snakes hate rats.”

Jules gives an attempt at a clap, but stops quickly as pain shoots up his arm and Lucille smacks the back of his head. “You’ve gotta admit that was a good one.”

“Glad to see somebody still has a sense of humor. ‘Sides, this idiot doesn’t work for my branch of the company so I don’t really care what happens to him.”

Lucille bristles. “Don’t kill him.”

“I wasn’t going to.” The tip of Piper’s tail brushes Lucille’s legs. “I’m just going to get every important piece of information out of him. I know he’d do it willingly, but… Well, it’s not like I care about anybody working for Gilroy anymore, and I still need some practice.” Saying this, she picks up a candlestick from the mantle as she heads out. “Whatever you hear, don’t open the door. You might ruin my focus.”

Lucille rubs her face for a moment, lowering her scarf-shawl before turning her tired gaze on Jules, who shrugs. Once she hears another door shut and the muffled sounds of somebody getting upset, she asks, “Why did you humor her?”

“Easy,” Jules nods, “the quickest way to cool someone off is to laugh at their joke. And, I didn’t feel like letting you two start fighting over some old fuck that… Look, she has a point.”

“I know she has a point. I don’t like it, but it’s fair, the guy’s a piece of crap. Still, I don’t like the idea of her doing it.”

An arm heavy with exhaustion wraps its way around Lucille’s shoulders and the hand capping it pats her shoulder as Jules says, “Agreed. She’s the boss, though. Orders are orders.”

“Yeah,” Lucille mumbles. “Guess so. We’ve come too far in this hunt to give up because the person signing our paycheck’s beating somebody up.”

“See, now you’re getting it.” Jules smiles. “If you would’ve gotten in on the Carnevale with me, you’d have fit in perfect.”

Lucille’s head settles into her hands, elbows against her knees with a soft and tired, “Oh, fuck this.”

==============================================================

In the hours of the morning where the crickets have stopped their chirping and the birds have taken their place, Azariah finds himself sitting out on the front porch of Samson’s home, eating a makeshift breakfast of leftover bread and some jam he knows won’t be missed. It’s odd— sleeping was never an issue when he was out in the woods, but as soon as he’s back in friendly civilization, it’s a real hit or miss. Sometimes he’ll wake up before the sun, still deathly tired and certain he never fell asleep to begin with. Other times, he’ll find himself sleeping like the dead until noon.

Olive opens the door behind him, peering out as though there might be something sinister on the rocking chair.

“Oh,” she says, stepping outside fully. “What’re you doin’ up this early?”

“I couldn’t tell you. I think I’ve got some issues to work out on that front, Olive.”

He offers her a piece from the loaf of bread. “How ‘bout yourself?”

“I always wake up at the crack of dawn.”

“You’re tellin’ me that it isn’t Judith or Cherry gettin’ us breakfast in the mornings?” he chuckles, pulling up a chair beside him.

Olive smiles, and rolls her eyes. “No use tryin’ to get Cherry up for nothin’. He’ll just be back in bed by the time he gets whatever you wanted done, done.” She sits down, and breathes out a deep sigh. “Feels weird, don’t it?”

“What, takin’ some stranger’s hospitality?”

“Yeah, kinda,” she nods, “but also not feelin’ like we’ve gotta book it somewhere, y’know? Feels like there’s been so much more time in the day, these last couple. Can you feel it too? Like, when you look back on what’s happened, it feels like before.”

Azariah takes some time to chew on this, both metaphorically and physically, via a chunk of particularly chewy bread. “I think you’ve got a point, there. I guess I ain’t as deeply introspective as you, Olive.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” she says, leaning back in her porch chair. “I saw the way you were lookin’ at Mr. Samson while he was tellin’ that story. Couldn’t tell if it was playin’ back a movie in your head or if ya had somethin’ for him.”

“I’ve always had a thing for canines.”

“Don’t tell me!” Olive squawks, slapping her knee. “Don’t tell me that’s what was on your mind, Azariah. You got it for Samson Parrish?”

“I’m afraid I do, Olive. Or, did.” Azariah chuckles too, tapping the armrest of his rocking chair with a finger. “And maybe I did feel a little somethin’ last night. But again, I couldn’t tell you what it was, since I’m not that kinda person. Love is a weird thing.”

“You don’t need’ta tell me. My history with that sorta thing is embarrassin’ to say the least.”

“Really, now?”

“Really really. Findin’ someone who’s able to take the fact that I’m not into certain stuff makes it nigh impossible.” She rubs her forehead with a hand. “Not includin’ the fact that a lotta people just friggin’ suck.”

Azariah adjusts the position of his chair to face her. “I understand, kiddo. Even the embarrassment bit, it took me decades to get over some of those one-night stands. Some of ‘em still haunt me to this day.” He fake-shivers as he says, “Nothin’ that’ll burn into your memory quite like getting puked on.”

Olive scooches her chair back away from the Hare with an, “Aw shit, Azariah! You’re gonna make me hock up my dinner! That’s foul, no more talkin’ ‘bout that!” Through his cough-laughs, she manages to get in, “Almost makes me glad I don’t feel pulled toward that stuff. Can’t hear a single good story ‘bout it without hearin’ another where some bodily fluid’s involved. An’ not in an intentional way, neither.”

“That’s part of the fun,” he coughs, having calmed himself down substantially from his laughing fit. “There’s always the chance someone’ll screw it up royally, and by that point, you might as well put a mental bookmark on the memory with how many times you’re gonna be tellin’ it at parties. But, you were sayin’ something about not being into it?” he asks, holding out an arm. “Oh, but if you aren’t comfortable with talkin’ about it, I can ease back.”

“No, it’s okay. I ain’t like, disgusted by the concept,” she replies. “I’m just… I don’t want it like other people want it, I guess.”

“What, throwin’ up? Or bein’ thrown up on?” Azariah teases.

“Ha. Sex in general’s what I mean. And like I said, it ain’t somethin’ a lotta people are alright with. Can’t tell you the number’a people I thought I’d fallen for who’ve taken that as a dealbreaker.”

The Hare frowns, and preemptively spreads a little jam on his bread for later consumption. “That certainly is an uncommon problem.”

“An’ it ain’t like I’m leadin’em on,” she says, motioning with her hands. “I’m usually pretty up-front with everythin’ about me, since, well, y’know. But I’ve even had some guys go a couple dates in before askin’ whether I was bein’ serious or not ‘bout it.”

“Did you feel like you loved them?” he asks.

“Some of them. Others, maybe. I dunno.”

“But they weren’t what you were lookin’ for?”

“They were enough of what I was lookin’ for, at the time. Guess not enough, though.”

Azariah offers her the piece of jellied bread. “Can I give you some advice, Olive?”

She eyes up the bread for a moment, before nodding and taking it.

“If those people weren’t willin’ to give you a shot after learning they couldn’t take you for a ride?” The Hare motions with an open hand. “They weren’t the kinda people you’d wanna settle for anyways. Findin’ someone who fits all your needs and wants isn’t something that most young people do anyways. They’ve got their top three wants, one of them is usually sex, and it’s assumed that everyone else feels the same way. You, though, you think a lot about those needs and wants. It makes sense that it’d be hard to find someone who fits them right.”

“I saw a lot of young people settle for folks they didn’t realize they hated,” he continues, sighing. “I was nearly one of ‘em back in the day. And to be frank with you, I still don’t know how Roxanne settled for me, ‘cause I feel like I won the jackpot.” He holds out a hand to her. “The point I’m tryin’ to make here’s that there’s so many people out in the world, and you’ve got so much time. Those chumps will come to regret not givin’ you a chance when they’re older, when you’ve got someone who fits you like a glove.”

Olive stares out the front porch, chewing her bread slowly. “Thanks, Azariah. That… helps.”

“Won’t help the heartbreak,” he says, scooching his chair to face forward again. “But it’ll help the mindset goin’ forward. Heartbreak is best dealt with when you aren’t constantly inflicting it on yourself. Trust me.”

Chapter End.

==============================================================

[ Table of Contents ]

#empty-mask #b&tsm #writing #oc #fantasy #adventure #serialized fiction #b&tsm-azariah #b&tsm-olive #b&tsm-piper #b&tsm-brie #b&tsm-roxanne #b&tsm-meat #b&tsm-jules #b&tsm-lucille

4 notes · View notes

candied-cae · 2 years

Text

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - It's Going To Be Okay

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Word Count : 5,217

Chapter 4/? - - - Read it on AO3

Summary: They all made it to the hospital, but Steve's out for the count. It's up to Robin and Nancy to make sure everyone makes it through the rest of the night without further issue. And maybe it's not just the kids they need to watch out for... perhaps, they might need a little comfort, too?

((For the record, the canon for this fic is that Steve did have the "Six Nuggets" monologue with Nance, but I was more about him just wanting to talk, less trying to worm his way back into her heart. And he never told her that line about "The dream? It's with you. It's always been you." If that makes sense. Aka, Steve really does care about Nancy, but he's not leaning into a romance with her or anything, so keep that in mind as we continue.))

More ST Fics

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

When Steve went down, everyone flinched. He was up one second, talking like he was fine, and suddenly he was on the ground, being swarmed as additional staff flowed into the emergency room. When they got him into a hospital bed and pulled off the fabric from Nancy's shirt, they all saw the damage.

He had been bleeding little by little for a while, probably since about the time he got Eddie loaded on his back in the Upside Down. His adrenaline probably just bottomed out and - after running on empty for so long - he was out. Nancy watched and remembered tying the rope around his waist tightly to shut him up before he got him and Eddie through the gate, and there’s a pang of guilt that follows the memory. Thoughts that ask if she opened those wounds further.

But the people who were looking him over said he was really going to be alright.

"Just needed some stitches, new bandages, and to take it easy for a little while. He’ll heal up just fine."

In the meantime, it was up to Nancy to give them the information on The Party. She ran over all their names and any house phone numbers she knew, so they could call family about medical information and inform the guardians where they all were. But when she mentioned Eddie’s name…

The woman was taken aback and began to ask, in her thick southern accent that made her sound a little out of place,“ That means- Ain’t he the boy on the news who-”

“No.” Nancy quickly came to his defense,” He didn’t do what they say he did.”

The nurse tilted her head, disbelievingly so, “Now, the police called him a prime suspect-”

“I know they did, but they’ve got it wrong, I swear,” she pleaded, becoming more and more unsure as to how she was supposed to convince all of Hawkins he was innocent when she couldn’t even come up with an answer for this one person.

“Then what were y’all doing that got each of you so hurt? These are not normal injuries from an earthquake, and if that Munson-”

“We were running from Jason!” Robin jumped in. It was only a half lie, at best, anyway.

“The Carver boy?” the nurse’s expression turns more confused than doubtful, and at that moment they know they had it. She could buy this story, it was reasonable, made sense, and from what Lucas told them, they could connect him to all of it quite easily. They could play this angle. They could exonerate Eddie like this.

“Yes!” Nancy confirmed, quickly catching on,” Some of us knew Eddie, my brother and his friends, so when they noticed he was missing after something happened at his place, we all wanted to find him and help bring him in safely so the police could clear up what happened.”

Robin came in right where Nancy was leaving off, without even a second between the beats,“ But then, everyone started going crazy, you know? Jason was rolling around with some of the basketball boys trying to find him, hurting people for information-”

Nancy cut in to point out,“ And the police had already made up their mind on what happened. No one wanted to listen to the truth. The town just wanted him executed.”

Robin nodded to her as she concluded,“ And then we found out that Jason announced a city-wide manhunt, in complete defiance of Chief Powell no less… and when we found out that people were actually listening to him instead of the officers? We had to find a way to get Eddie to the station through all the hicks and crazies that wanted to kill him. We tried to hide in the forest until we could figure out what to do. But Jason found us anyway.”

Nancy pulled together the most desperate, pleading expression she could, pushing the honesty in her words,“ We just wanted to set things right. Make sure Eddie got a fair chance to tell the truth and make sure the real guy who killed all those kids faced justice. I swear, ma’am, that’s what happened.”

It was beautiful the way it all clicked together. The way the two of them put the pieces into place like it was a puzzle they just found the cover to. They moved their words together in an almost effortless way, immediately knowing what the other needed to fill the gap in the story. It was a masterpiece.

The nurse looked between the two of them and said,“ I’ll have to call the authorities.”

Nancy nodded back to her,“ We completely understand. Just, once everyone gets set up in rooms, can we stay with them? We need to know we're all okay.”

“It’s against protocol to place a bunch of friends in their rooms, especially after hours…” she said. But they looked so beaten to hell and they still held on to each other… they were kids. And it would’ve been crueler to separate them, wouldn’t it have been?

So, with a sigh, the nurse decided,“ We’ll put the boys in a room together, and the girl just across the hall. The Harrington kid should be getting moved up once they finish his dressings. I’ll walk you all in then. Just- sit tight, while I make the calls I need to make.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nancy agreed.

They all remained seated as she turned back to the front desk to call the police department. Nancy couldn’t overhear much, but she listened intently and caught her rattling off their names and mentioning that there were tons of injuries among them. While Nancy was focused on the nurse, Robin was watching Steve. There were two doctors, one on his left and one on the right, carefully suturing the bites together, bit by bit. The bleeding was slow, and they didn’t seem worried. They were probably right; it wasn’t a big deal and Steve would just have to deal with a bunch of scars the next time he wanted to flash his abs at the pool. But he’d be fine. Robin wouldn’t have to learn to live without Steve Harrington in her life again, because he was going to be fine.

She was at least able to assure herself of that until they finished wrapping him up in bandages and Steve got wheeled away.

When he was gone, it was harder to be convinced. It probably shouldn’t have been as scary as it was. Robin felt silly the way her heart rate spiked when he went out of view. But they’ve all been together for almost every second these last five days, and now three of them - including her best friend - were separated. They fought to hell and back, quite literally, and now they were just gone. It shouldn't have been that scary, considering they were in a hospital and actively receiving help, but it was. Robin wrung her hands together, trying to stave away the nerves when Nancy reached over and held them in her own.

“It’s going to be okay.”

And she said it so easily. Like it was second nature for her to comfort Robin against the racing fear her mind ran with.

Robin was frozen for a moment as she looked down at their clasped hands.

Nancy continued her ministrations without needing to hear Robin ask for more,“ We all made it here, we’re all still breathing, and now we’re getting all fixed up. We are going to be okay. They are going to be okay.”

“I know. I know…” She shook her head, like it’d do anything to the anxiety buzzing around in it, before looking up to meet Nancy’s eyes,” I know it’s ridiculous to get worked up right now when this is a vast improvement to where we were twenty minutes ago. Logically, I should be elated and going so far as to plan a victory party to celebrate the fact that none of us died on the battlefield tonight. But...”

“But, just because we ‘logically’ should feel fine, doesn’t mean we do.” Nancy understood.

“I just-” Robin screwed her eyes shut to continue,” can't shut off the stream of thoughts that says that, every second I don’t have my eyes on them, something bad is going to happen.”

Nancy deflated just the slightest bit and responded,“ I know the feeling.”

Robin’s eyes opened, and without even needing another word, it clicked for her: Nancy was thinking about her brother.

“Oh my god, you haven’t even been able to check on Mike in days. And here I am about to fall apart because Steve went down a hallway. I should be the one telling you everything’s okay, not the other way around.”

“No, no. Don't feel bad. It’s seriously terrifying that I don’t know what’s going on with him,” she admits,” but I'm scared about them, too.”

Nancy looked at the corridor the others disappeared down in silence for a second before she faintly added,“ But, maybe, you could still tell me this is going to be okay in the end anyway?”

Robin looked at her like she was something new again.

Nancy Wheeler was someone so different than she assumed she was all those months ago. And even still, as she’s learned to adjust her expectations, she was still surprised by all the sides to her. There was the Nancy who was smart and collected and just so perfectly sweet like how every mother wants her daughter to be; there was the Nancy who was an endless pool of ambition and determination to be who she is and get everything she wants out of the world; there was the Nancy who was a badass with a steel heart and courage to beat back monsters to protect the people around her like she was built for it; and now she sees the Nancy who wants to lift a friend’s spirits even when she’s feeling defeated herself, who sometimes needs to ask for support because she can’t always give to herself what she gives to everyone else.

Nancy Wheeler was a hundred different incredible things. And if one of those was Robin’s friend who needed her help? Then Robin would provide it with everything she had.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Robin scooped her hands around Nancy’s to hold them in turn.

”Everything’s going to be fine. I am sure of it. We’re all going to get set up in absolutely killer cots and spend the night making sure dingus and the other two are okay. And then we’ll call the Byers in the morning and Mike is going to answer, probably super grumpy because you’ll phone him at the crack of dawn in California time. And he’s going to say something like,” she put on a gruff voice in an attempt at an imitation,” ‘Oh my gosh, Nancy, chill out. We’ve just been super busy having fun and Joyce’s phone company had some issues. What? What do you mean there’s stuff happening in Hawkins? Oh my gosh, I’m on my way.’ And then he’ll hang up on you, which will make you, like, a little bit pissed, to be honest. But, you’ll be overall super happy that he’s fine and feel like a thousand times better afterward.”

Nancy had a smile pinching her cheeks,“ Yeah, that doesn’t sound half bad.”

Robin nodded at the approval and remembered her duty as Steve’s best friend to be a good wingman. Even if he was currently unconscious, and had yet to officially say he still had feelings for Nancy… There was no harm in using him for a laugh and maybe giving him a leg up in winning Nancy back, right?

She leaned back with a wide grin and continued,“ And then everyone will wake up, including Steve, who will look stupidly handsome considering he hasn’t showered in a few days and nearly bled out twice. And we can all get back to being assholes to one another while you’re all embarrassed trying not to stare at him and-”

“No, I won’t,” she interrupted to dispute that point.

“Oh, please-” Robin rolled her eyes,” I saw you eyeing him up on the boat-”

“I was not-”

“Shirt off and proposing an act of heroism and athleticism? It was one of his finest moments to date, so I’m not criticizing you-”

“I didn’t-”

“And you were all tense towards both of us until you believed there was absolutely nothing between us-”

“That wasn’t-”

“You can deny it all you want, but I’m on to you, Wheeler.”

“No, you're not. Because I’m with Jonathan and- and Steve and I gave it a try before. It didn’t work, and we found out that we just aren’t right for one another.”

“You might’ve not been right for one another back then, but I don’t think any two people have changed as much as you guys have. I mean, King Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, turned world’s greatest babysitter and hopeless romantic? And Prissy Nancy Wheeler, now a badass who keeps two guns in her bedroom and marches into battle with a sawed-off shotgun? No one could’ve guessed that.”

Nancy decided to move past the fact that Robin just called her prissy and instead confirm that she and Steve would not be happening,“ Well, you’re wrong.”

“I don’t think I am. But I’ll accept your apology when you figure it out, too,” she said with a smirk like she’d seen the future and had it all figured out.

Nancy groaned at the smugness but found herself laughing anyway. It was silly, after all. Steve and her? Just because he’s grown and she’s grown? It doesn’t mean anything. Sure, he can be vulnerable now. Acknowledging when he’s been wrong and thanking her for, what she can honestly admit was, an awful way to break up. But that? That doesn’t mean anything. Especially not when she’s with Jonathan.

They had something. They have been by each other's side since before they even got together. They planned to stick together through whatever else the world threw at them. So, it didn’t matter. End of story: she was with Jonathan, and they were going to work through whatever weirdness was happening between them right now, and they would keep being happy. They would. There was no point in entertaining anything otherwise.

The nurse returned shortly after all the teasing, and Robin noticed that Nancy didn’t pull their hands apart when she did. She first told the staff working on the kids to start keeping a very careful record of the injuries for then the police come in. They’d probably be stalled due to the earthquake, but they’d probably want to come in before long to question all of them. Then she turned back to Robin and Nancy.

“I’m going to give you both one last look over, and then we need that vehicle moved out of the ambulance bay. Pronto. We are expecting a lot of people coming in, sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nancy nodded and turned to face her directly rather than how she’d been angled towards Robin.

Her left hand was pulled from Robin’s grasp while she did so, but her right remained, carefully lain in her hold. Nancy squeezed Robin as the nurse prodded around the mark on her neck from when the vines tried to choke her lights out. Robin squeezed back, to remind her that she was there for her. Once she was done with Nancy, it was Robin’s turn. Nancy copied Robin’s position, putting her hands together around the other girl’s, as she went through the same treatment she did.

The nurse wrote down some stuff and checked off a few boxes on her clipboard before dismissing them. It wouldn’t take too long, and maybe only one of them really needed to go move the RV… but when Nancy stood up, hand still holding Robin’s, Robin stood with her. She trailed just behind as they ran out the entrance and climbed into the front seats of the metal giant. And she sat transfixed as Nancy effortlessly flicked two of the exposed wires against one another like she’d been trained to hotwire just as Eddie had. The real story was that Eddie did pretty much all the heavy lifting, and when she sat in the driver's seat the first time, she just figured that the two cords not wrapped together were the ones she needed to spark. She’d been right, of course, and her confidence in doing it a second time was a sight.

A sight that Robin chose to tuck away any feelings about. Because, come on, it was Nancy Wheeler. She might’ve been the whole world’s dream girl, but that didn’t make her any more likely to look at anyone who wasn’t a prom king or Tom Cruise. It didn’t hurt though. It wasn’t necessarily a sad truth, or at least Robin wouldn’t have called it that. It just simply was the truth. And, in much happier news, they were friends. Nancy even asked for that official confirmation, like it was such a privilege to be Robin Buckley’s friend and not the other way around. That was more than enough.

In no time at all, it seemed, Nancy had the RV moved and parked in the lot just beside the emergency entrance. As they climbed out for what would probably be the last time before the cops took it back where it belonged, she noticed the clouded breath as it left her mouth. The orange hue of the streetlights around them almost could’ve fooled Nancy into thinking it was warm out. But it was barely Spring and just after midnight, so warmth wasn’t something Hawkins was gracing them with.

“Thank God for Warzone jackets.” Nancy huffed as she pulled the material tighter around her and they walked back towards the doors.

“What? Battling monsters in an alternate dimension is fine by you, but late night chills are where you draw the line?” Robin nudged against her shoulder.

“What do you want me to say? I run cold!" Nancy giggled through her defensiveness.

"I'd offer the last of the molotov cocktails to get a nice campfire going, but I'm pretty sure I dropped it back at the Creel House when the world started shaking. So I guess you'll have to fend for yourself.”

“If it was up to me, I’d be wrapped up in my bed, sleeping like it was just any other day.” Nancy says with a blissful grin as if she could actually imagine being bundled up at home instead of walking along a hospital sidewalk,” Course, the Upside Down never bothered to ask when I would prefer to deal with all its issues.”

“Funny thing, I never got that memo either. Who do you think it was that decided Spring Break was the perfect time for all of this to crop back up?”

Nancy rubbed her chin contemplatively with a melodramatic hum as they crossed the automatic doors back into the florescent lights of the ER. When the nurse spotted them, she waved them on back, where she stood watch over Dustin and the Sinclairs. The jovial question abandoned, they came to a jog as they rejoined the four of them. They’d given Dustin a crutch, Erica’s arm was in a sling, and Lucas’s face was peppered in white stripes of medical tape to hold the small cuts closed.

“Alright kids, follow me.” the nurse said before she started walking down the hall and loaded them into the elevator.

”We’re expecting the emergency room to start getting very busy, so we’re going to technically admit you all overnight for observation and move you all up into inpatient while we contact family. They’ll be allowed to visit first thing in the morning, but we have to keep the hospital for emergent cases as they come in right now. This also means I’ve made sure the authorities understand that you aren’t to be questioned until you’ve been officially discharged, they’ll most likely be in tomorrow morning, or they’ll contact parents and make arraignments. But for tonight, you are all to get some rest. We’ve got some cots set up in two rooms so we can keep you all together.”

When they arrived on the second floor, she showed them the rooms, right across from each other as she promised.

“Max Mayfield will be getting brought into 237 when she’s done in surgery, and Eddie Munson will be joining Steve Harrington in 238 when they finish blood transfusions and running his labs. You guys can divide yourself up between the rooms however you want, just make sure no one goes wandering off. There are bathroom's in the rooms, and more on the right past the nurses station at the end of the hall, with the vending machines and water fountain. If you need anyone to the room urgently, the call button’s the little one under the red light at the head of the patient beds. It’s only for emergencies. If there's anything else, one of the nurses can help you out.”

“Thank you. We’ll make sure they get settled.” Nancy said.

And with a solemn nod, the nurse went back to the elevator and left them to themselves.

They spent a little while running over Robin and Nancy’s plan for the cops before they could get caught in different versions of the story. Lucas and Erica supplied more details from their night that they were able to work into it. It was solid, and honestly, the details lined up in ways that almost made it too easy to pin on Jason. There was a little bit of a guilty feeling about it. The guy did really believe he was doing the right thing by chasing after the devil in Chrissy’s name… but he was wrong, his crew hurt their Party, and Jason wasn’t even around to face the consequences. The ethical quandary didn’t sit in their hearts long, to say the least.

Either way, it was getting to be about time everyone turned in. There were three cots in what was going to be Max’s room and two in Steve and soon-to-be Eddie’s. There were probably a lot of ways they could’ve split themselves up, but the only way that made sense for them was to put Lucas with Max - along with his sister and Nancy - and to set up Dustin and Robin with the boys. There were sheets, blankets, and flat hospital pillows already laid out. But even with it all ready for them, it didn’t feel right to sleep. They were all still so restless, unsettled. Too many questions were unanswered to feel like they could turn in. But eventually, the children found themselves helpless to their exhaustion.

Nancy wasn’t so lucky. Sleep wouldn’t come. After half an hour of trying, she sat up from the temporary bed and stepped into the hall where she saw Robin on the floor. Sat with her back to the wall, picking at her painted nails.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Nancy said as she slid down and sat opposite her.

Robin looked up from her hands at the girl across the hall and answered,“ Nope. Don’t think I will be able to until those two are at least brought into the rooms.”

“I was thinking the same thing…” Nancy admitted before looking into the other room and quietly asking,” How does he look?”

“A little banged up, but overall pretty peaceful. He’s got one of those faces that just completely relaxes when he’s asleep, apparently. I’m pretty sure he’s having some great dream, like sunbathing on a beach or something. Of course, he’d rather be there instead of joining the interrogation strategy session.”

“Of course,” Nancy said as she looked down at her own hands.

“Is there something else on your mind?”

“I just…” she bit her lip for a second before meeting Robin’s eyes,” can’t stop thinking about how we failed. I mean, usually, after it’s all over, we’re all beat up to hell, and it’s not very satisfying... but we win. We end the day knowing we fought back whatever was coming. We know that we did good and it was worth the bumps, the bruises, and the trauma because we got to live and save the world. But this time…? It feels like we’ve barely delayed it. We threw everything we had at it, and it wasn’t enough and- and I don’t think we can do it without El’s powers, without Hopper, without all the government suits who used to come and clean things up. And when Vecna comes back - because I can just feel in my bones that he will - I know what he's going to do. I saw what he wants to do. He wants to end everything. Like wipe the slate clean and start civilization over again in his idea of perfection. And I don’t know how we fight that. I don't think I know how to get back up when we’ve been beaten this badly. To face it again anyway? I just don’t know-”

“Hey,” Robin kicked her foot out to nudge Nancy’s and bring her out of her own head. When Nancy looked back up at her, there were tears brimming her lashes ready to fall.

”Remember what I said about your I don’t know’s?”

She looked up to keep the tears from spilling over and let out a pitiful huff,“ They seem to go well?”

“They seem to go pretty freakin’ well.” Robin corrected,” And I have only gotten more and more sure of that fact in the time since I originally said it. Now, I’d go on the record to say they go pretty damn well."

That earned a smile and Nancy wiped around her eyes to get rid of the saltwater that gathered as she listened.

"We’ve got a plan for Eddie. And we’ll put one together for Vecna. Just, not on our own. When we have everyone together again, we’ll figure it out. We just… have to get through tonight.”

Nancy repeated it back to instill it in herself,“ We just have to get through tonight.”

“Exactly.” Robin agreed, flashing her beaming grin at Nancy in some way that just made the world a little less terrifying.

She felt better. In the past, when Nancy began to stew in self-doubt or difficulty, it always felt like nobody knew what to say. The kinds of things Steve, Jonathan, or even her mother could come up with, were never the things she needed to hear. But Robin was an expert already. She just… got it. In some strange way, Robin understood how she felt and had so much confidence that things would get better. That Nancy had the capability to make things better. And she was so sure that she was able to make Nancy remember how much she believes in herself.

Nancy Wheeler does not just let things happen to her. She does not accept disrespect or intimidation. She was smart, she was strong, and she does not go down easy. She has won before, even when no one wanted to listen to her, she found ways to make herself heard and did the job that needed to be done. And that night sucked. It really sucked. But they were still kicking to get back into the ring when the sun came back up.

That’s what mattered: getting through tonight and getting back in the fight.

“So,” Robin chimed in, feeling the need to lighten the mood,” You ever figure out who told the Upside Down to start all this shit up during Spring Break?”

Nancy smiled at the joke and returned, playing at seriousness,“ I’ve got some theories, but no solid leads yet.”

“Oh, come on, Nancy. All that investigative journalistic instinct and you haven’t cracked the case yet?”

Nancy liked the way Robin called it “investigative journalistic instinct”. It wasn’t a joke like the rest of the question. And it wasn't a joke like when the Reporters called her “Nancy Drew". She could tell Robin meant that part. Inside of the banter about scheduling apocalypses… Robin respected her abilities and how she strived to hunt down the truth in all the weirdness that happens in Hawkins.

“Do you have it all figured out?” Nancy threw back.

“Don’t deflect onto me- let’s hear your theories!”

“Alright…” Nancy began, pushing in off the wall to lean in towards Robin, the other girl leaning closer too, and she brought her voice into a whisper like she was trading state secrets,” So I know Dustin wasn’t specifically in the position to need it to come down right now, but he has a prior for keeping secrets that lead to big end of days shit, so it’s not out of the question. And it could’ve been Mike. It is super suspicious that everything happened as soon as he was on a plane to another state. In that same vein, any of the Byers are suspect because they didn’t have to deal with it after they moved.”

“Oh wow, you weren’t kidding, you’ve got some leads.”

“Are you going to help me narrow them down or not?”

Robin raised her hands in surrender,“ Alright, alright. So about your Dustin theory…”

They passed the time mock debating the why's and why not’s of just about everyone they could think of. Robin even tried to pin it on Tom Cruise for no other reason than to poke at Nancy’s obvious favor for the actor. It was a more than welcome distraction while they waited to see the two missing from their group brought back.

Among their conversation, they watch people filter in as commotion rises from the floor below. Injuries and casualties of the “earthquake” were filling up the hospital just as the nurse had suggested they would. Just after 1:30 am Eddie is wheeled in and moved into the bed by the window. It takes a while longer, but around 3 am Max finally joins them too and gets settled into her room.

And they both breathe a little easier because, finally, all their ducks were in a row. They were all gathered back together again, heartbeat monitors serving as a constant assurance that they were still alive despite how close they came. And maybe it was because they were all gathered, or maybe it was because they got to talk through their fears and find some silly joy… but Nancy and Robin finally felt like they could fall asleep.

They stood up from their spots in the far too bright hall and turned into their rooms with a final “goodnight” to one another. Both left the doors to the rooms open just a crack, mostly falling into soft darkness with exception of that little line of light. And somehow, the darkness didn’t feel as frightening as they thought it would after the night they had.

Robin got to listen to Steve’s soft snoring to lull her into her sleep. Nancy had Lucas’s breathing amplified by his broken nose. And before long, all seven of them were just a little better off. Happily tucked in the comfort of their dreams.

All of them, except for Steve.

7 notes · View notes

hoarder-of-stories-27 · 2 years

Note

//the callout shit

I’ve just read your response-to-callout doc and I’m. I cannot express how sorry I am that that happened to you, that it still fucking keeps happening.

The fucking “they’ve made a response, I don’t care, the fact that they were accused means that (don’t remember what exactly they said). Holy shit.

As well as everything. All of it is so fucking horrible. I’m so fucking sorry.

I admire you so much. I have not known you/about you for long, it was later than the latest update of the doc, but I admire you so much.

The ways in which you have written the response and addressed everything and everyone honestly amaze me.

I’m so so so so fucking sorry that it was/is happening.

Also, I’m the same anon who was asking abt paraphilia/paraphilic disorder distinction, and I want to apologise in advance if the second ask (the response to your response to my first ask) has made your uncomfortable in any way.

I’ll use an “🐳🐀” signature in future asks, okay? Two at once because any one might have another user somewhere on tumblr already, and also I’m still scared that it can get misused, that somebody might pretend to be me to hurt you, so, please know, that I will never send harassment, I will never believe unchecked accusations.

I also have a thing to ask of you.

//self-o/ff and specific ways of it without the specifics of them, psych ward mention

In the original section with screenshots of anon harassment you’ve gotten, there is an anon that suibates you to take a specific amount of a specific medication.

Please censor the name and the number. Probably preferably both.

I know you already have a warning on that section that it contains descriptions of specific sui/ci/de methods, but please, I’m really asking you to do it for specifically that one.

Because a person has tweeted about a person successfully committing with a specific dose of a specific med, I knew exactly what to do, and would have done it if I hadn’t already been institutionalised at the peak of that episode (but I began to think about specifically that way earlier than the institutionalisation). When I have later written about that on Twitter, asking people to not say what and how much has the person taken, it blew up, and at least one person made a reply that the same thing, over literally the same tweet, happened to them.

I already knew which way to sl/it wr/ists. But this one thing was the one that would have killed me for certain.

(context)

Thank you so much. ;-; I really appreciate this - the support means so much to me.

I’ve been doing a lot better recently!! The harassment has died down, and I’m back to writing again, and things are good. 🥺 But yeah… I very literally have trauma from these last several months. I’ve noticed trauma responses as strong or stronger than the ones I currently have from my childhood sexual abuse (probably just because it’s more recent and I've been doing work on the CSA trauma for years, but still). So that’s messed up.

Your asks didn’t make me uncomfortable at all!! I just wish I could give you better answers. I wish you luck and insight as you learn about this stuff.

Aww, whale rat anon! Thank you so much for reassuring me. I really appreciate that.

And thank you for thinking of that, with censoring the message. I’m so sorry you went through what you did. I’ll go censor it! That section is definitely less polished than the rest, just because I had trouble spending time on it. ^^’ I really hope no one’s been hurt by it already.

Edit: update, it's censored now!

#asks #whale rat anon #my posts #long #/harassment #/abuse #/suicide baiting #/suicide #/self harm #/medical #/csa mention #-responsible

7 notes · View notes

stsathyre · 2 years

Text

A Note on Discernment: Hearing your own voice

Originally published Jan. 31, 2014.

People seem really hung up on one’s ability to hear (not “hear” which includes divination tools and reading omens/signs) but hear deities and spirits and whatnot. People covet the most literal sense of godphone and here’s a very … well, I find it awkward, way to actually hear them and read this carefully, because it will be very easy to misunderstand.

Sometimes the gods use your own voice.

“That’s someone makin’ it up, St. Why you makin’ shit up?”

See, we didn’t even get that far, and you’ve already bounded off to the deep end. Sometimes the gods use your own voice. Let me tell you something about humanoids: They suck at taking their own advice. They don’t abide by their own judgments. They’re hypocrites, and to make it worse, 99% of the time ANOTHER humanoid has to make them aware of when they’ve said one thing while sitting on their high eight-legged horse and then done another.

The gods will sometimes use your own voice by repeating your words back to you in times of crisis. That’s not how it works, on TV and in movies, you know. They always have a floating bubble of the character remembering someone else’s advice. We’re taught that the opinions and knowledge of others is better and weighs more than our own. It is leveled in some belief that we don’t want to be self-absorbed or conceited enough to believe that we know what is best for ourselves (despite believing that we know what is best for others). So, we shut out our own voices. We refuse our own advice.

So, what happens when you are asking the gods for help? What happens when you’re reaching out and you do not have your divination tools and you’re sitting in silence? You get this little intrusive voice, that sounds like you, and it’s not fucking welcome because “I ain’t talking to you right now, self.” And that little voice has the answer, and it is something you’ve told someone else.

Then if you stop to actually listen to it, you might hear Freyja tell you about yourself for being a big hypocritical baby who didn’t follow their own advice in the first place. Just sayin’. It’s like a little tag-on that’s still *kinda* in your voice, but you probably wouldn’t talk to yourself this way and it doesn’t even sound like you– it’s a variation of your voice but those sure ain’t your words.

Then you sit there mad because you’ve just had your own words chucked into your face. Well, try not to be mad. You did ask.

Am I saying that everyone does and can experience this? No, that’s impossible to say. I’m not in your head. Am I saying that this voice is different from the voices someone with a mental illness may hear? Again, no. I’m not a medical professional, and you should know yourself better than anyone else in that aspect. Am I saying that you should follow the advice of every voice you hear in your own voice in your head? NO! NO, no, no nonono!

What I’m saying, is that when you’ve had it up to here (pretend you can see my hand) and you’re in a tight spot, and you’ve actually reached out to the gods (i.e. “Deity, I don’t know what to do!”) And find yourself dropped into silence and have a sudden, out of nowhere opportunity to listen (the kids took it upon themselves to take a nap, the dog finally shut up, you just need to turn off the TV/Internet, the toilet water finally stopped running) and your own voice comes out and tells you the exact same words that you’ve told someone else–triggering the memory of when you said it and who you said it to, then that might be your deity, doing their best with the limits of communication, trying to help you out.

When I do talk discernment, I try to say this more often than not: Your gods should not ask you to harm yourself. Suicidal thoughts, I’ve learned from experience, can sometimes be taken really personal by some gods–even, sometimes, if it’s a part of one’s depression cycle. I know that Hela doesn’t take kindly to them, and her approach to abolishing them isn’t … Hm. No words. So, if, in your stress, you start having self-harming, suicidal thoughts, you need to seek help. Don’t follow those thoughts. Seek a friend or family member to talk with. Call the numerous hotlines and use the various resources that Tumblr is very good at drumming up. Those are not the thoughts I’m talking about following and if you’ve ever told someone to go kill themselves and suddenly are getting those words back. First, shame on you and second, please reach out for help.

No one has all the answers. We all just have bits and pieces of the puzzle. What works for me may not work for you. Just know that that’s okay.

-St.

#This magical life #This polytheistic life

11 notes · View notes

sshbpodcast · 4 months

Text

Character Spotlight: Beverly Crusher

By Ames

Paging Dr. Crusher to medbay. Dr. Crusher to medbay. We have a character spotlight procedure to perform, so get your medical scrubs on and refresh yourself on the hippocratic oath as A Star to Steer Her By reviews the vital signs of Dr. Beverly Crusher, The Next Generation’s Chief Medical Officer for six out of seven seasons of the show. Plus the movies (I guess?).

She may have taken a full season off, and you know what: it’s painfully obvious why. Her character probably gets less to do than Troi whom we recently discussed, and she more often than not defaults to just being the mother of the resident boy genius, which isn’t saying much. So what can we say about Bev? We definitely scraped together some moments to highlight, so read on below and listen to this week’s episode on the podcast (jump to 1:00:49 for Bev chat). Stat!

Best moments

Say no to drugs, kids As we’ve said when covering doctors like McCoy and Pulaski, Starfleet CMOs are at their best when they put their patients before the Prime Directive. So when Crusher brilliantly figures out how the Ornarans are exploiting the Brekkians’ addiction to felicium in “Symbiosis,” she uses it to pressure Picard to intervene. His response wasn’t NEARLY enough, but Bev was 100% right.

Set phasers to BAMF I love it when the doctors get to kick some ass in an action scene, and Crusher proves herself capable of absolutely owning enemies on occasion. Especially awesome is the scene in “Conspiracy” after the alien-possessed Admiral Quinn beats up Riker, throws Geordi through a door, and swings Worf around like a ragdoll, Bev just walks in and phasers him like it’s no big deal.

The longer we argue, the longer it’s going to take me to save them In the middle of the terrorist attack in “The High Ground,” Crusher puts her foot down and puts her patients first, defying orders to stay with the injured casualties. And though the Federation’s position is to stay neutral (though they fail at this), Bev diagnoses the terrorists willingly and ably despite not agreeing with their insurgence against their government.

I’m here, Jean-Luc. I’m not going anywhere. Though it’s pretty clear that Patrick Stewart and Mark Lenard steal the show in “Sarek,” we’ve got to give some commendation to Dr. Crusher as well. She’s the one who figures out that Sarek’s Bendii Syndrome is causing disturbances around the ship, even when the Vulcan party tries to conceal it, and her devotion to helping Picard through the mind meld is nothing short of beautiful.

Separating the man from the machine Not only does Crusher get to go on the away team to the Borg Cube to find the captured Picard in “Best of Both Worlds” and proceed to shoot Borg drones like she’s swatting flies. But she also defies all odds and deprograms Locutus after they’ve rescued him and destroyed the Borg Cube. She’s so good, there’s nary a scratch on him for the rest of the series.

If there’s nothing wrong with me, maybe there’s something wrong with the universe Pretty much everything Bev gets to do in “Remember Me” is stellar. It makes you realize that Crusher doesn’t get a lot of episodes that are deep character pieces like the other characters get to (even Troi, though those are mostly problematic). But “Remember Me” gets to show off the doctor’s shrewdness and problem-solving abilities in one of the most original episodes of the show!

Correction: Blown out While her and Geordi’s subplot in “Disaster” is probably the most disconnected of the lot, it’s actually pretty impressive that Crusher is able to survive the decompressed cargo bay and get to the panel to repressurize everything. She knows exactly what to do to prepare for the absolutely lethal conditions inflicted on them, keeps her cool, and gets them both through it alive.

Then Deanna has to die I’m not going to even pretend to understand how everything worked out in the end in “Man of the People,” but it was all thanks to Beverly Crusher. She figures out Alkar’s psychic vampire deal, risking everything by performing an autopsy against orders. But even better than that, she makes the batshit decision to kill Troi and then revive her to break the link, and even crazier: it works!

Someone in this morgue is a murderer! Later the same season we have Crusher yet again performing an autopsy against the wishes of the deceased’s culture, but in “Suspicions,” there are consequences. Bev’s tenacity in sleuthing out Dr. Reyga’s murder, her flying into a damn sun to prove him right, and her killing the hell out of Jo’Brill make an otherwise forgettable episode into a great showcase for her character.

Let’s make flying into the sun a thing And somehow, that’s not even the last time Bev flies into a sun using Dr. Reyga’s metaphasic shield technology! In “Descent,” she avoids a Borg attack by hiding in a sun’s corona, even while her security officer Barnaby (who’s played by the same actor as Jo’Bril; that can’t be just a coincidence!) is over her shoulder doubting her and tactical officer Taitt’s every decision.

You’re not Nana! Nana’s dead! Okay, hear me out. Even though “Sub Rosa” is a notoriously bad episode of TNG and it even swept our worst of the series list (we’ll hear from it again in this blogpost in the Worst Moments section), there’s some stuff to love about Crusher in this episode. Watching her stand up to Ronin in the end when she’s figured it all out is some great work from Gates McFadden!

Please state the nature of the medical emergency Finally, we get to the movies, which seem to mostly forget that Bev is a character sometimes, but we know the truth! Bev is a rockstar who saves her entire medical staff AND Lily Sloane in First Contact by thinking to have the Emergency Medical Hologram create a diversion while she leads everyone through all the various ducts like an absolute boss.

—

Worst moments

I haven’t the comfort of a husband Another week, another mention of “The Naked Now,” which has come up in pretty much every character spotlight except Riker’s (maybe he should have gotten a mention for not getting space drunk). And for Beverly, it’s just another case of the female characters all getting horny for the various male characters in that tropey, sexist way the show had, and it’s just bullshit.

Get out of my mind It’s not every day that someone on the Enterprise gets possessed by some entity or other. It’s more like every other day! So when Crusher gets possessed by the entity in “Lonely Among Us” and suddenly finds herself on the bridge with gaps in her memory, you’d think there would be some kind of protocol to submit yourself for examination, but she just goes back to work like an amateur!

Shut up again, Wesley We gave Picard some guff about this in “Datalore” and we’re going to do the same for his mother later that same episode. Sure, we’re ALL thinking it at pretty much all times this first season of TNG, but Starfleet officers should not be saying “Shut up, Wesley” to their crewmembers on the bridge, especially when he’s just imparting important knowledge about Lore!

The future the AI bots want I’ll always question Crusher’s leaping at the opportunity to assume Yuta is the woman from some impossibly old photo in “The Vengeance Factor” because the computer overlaid her face on top of it when they asked it to. Like we’ve never seen the same actor play different roles before. Call me faceblind, but I wouldn’t have even noticed the resemblance.

No wonder we retconned the Trill... Probably the most questionable thing Crusher does is continue her relationship with Odan after his symbiont is put into Riker’s body in “The Host.” Odan gives her an out several times, but Bev decides to keep romancing him, which seems really squicky to us since Riker didn’t have the ability to consent to the happy couple using his body in… that way.

First, do no harm... by doing nothing at all Cultural differences make the episode “Ethics” a very complicated one, since Worf refuses palliative care for his paralysis and would rather die. What’s a doctor to do in such a situation? How about make matters worse by ignoring every request of her patient, treating him like a human instead of a Klingon, and withholding the experimental procedure he’s requested?

This is a recipe of the Captain’s Aunt Adelle In the very first aired episode of The Original Series, “The Man Trap,” we see McCoy taking a sleep aid of some kind to help him sleep. And it works! So when Riker is suffering from sleeplessness in “Schisms” and Crusher just prescribes a hot milk toddy instead of actual drugs, I just have to call bullshit. You’re a doctor, Bev, not a barista.

The lobes for business Ugh, we’re not even on Deep Space Nine yet and I’m already fed up with oomox. I find it gross how often the women of these shows have to effectively demean themselves by giving a Ferengi oomox like Bev does to get information out of Solok in “Chain of Command.” Sometimes, I swear this show was written for sex-starved teenaged boys and no one else.

Put ze candle back! While I gave Beverly some credit for defeating Ronin in the end in “Sub Rosa,” I also need to take her down a few pegs first for getting so infatuated with the guy in the first place! Sure, it’s some level of minor mind control, but she’s treating her crewmembers terribly, gushing at Deanna about her grandma’s erotic diaries, and quitting her job all for some guy who banged Nana. Gross, Bev! Real gross.

AITA, Enterprise edition While we like to see our two medical crewmembers looking out for each other, Crusher��s devotion to Lt. Ogawa somehow leads her to accidentally spreading a rumor that Powell is cheating on her in “Lower Decks.” Ogawa tells her in confidence that she’s upset he canceled a recent date, and in the next scene Crusher is gabbing at the poker table about every time she saw him in the same room as another woman!

Captain, I believe the crew is de-evolving While we could blame Reg Barclay for making the crew “de-evolve” in “Genesis,” it’s also on Dr. Crusher for elevating his T-cells in the first place. The rest of the episode is a mess that Bev can’t be at fault for because Worf knocked her out with his venom breath early on, but the initial outbreak could have been entirely avoided if the good doctor hadn’t gone tampering with his DNA.

Not that we care about such things in this day and age Another quick repeat that we also brought up in the Troi spotlight, but wow, we must harp on how the writers seem to have no idea what else to do with their female characters. Dr. Crusher has about 20 lines in all of Insurrection and two of them are wasted talking about her and Deanna’s boobs just to titillate the men in the audience.

—

With this blogpost wrapped up, let’s blow out this candle for good. We’ve got more character spotlights on the way, with another Crusher to discuss next week, so make you’re following along! We’re also still flying along through Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you pick up your podcast frequencies, maintaining our universe bubble over on Facebook and Twitter, and flying into a sun every chance we get!

1 note · View note