#my coworker who infected half the office

[krunchymunchy]

John - P1 // short story

I'm john. I used to work as HR at Grace's Health and Services over in Mesquite. Mostly just handled payroll and logging. My birthday? God, uh; I think April 3rd, 85? So I guess I'm 38? God I haven't been asked that question forever ago. What was I doing day one? Uh, God that was years ago. Quite a blur but let me see if I can recall. I was at my desk when my phone started blasting. My ex-wife was calling saying she took Sophie out of school since she was nearby. Freaking out because I know she damn well knows weekdays are when Sophie is with me, I unlocked my phone and then the alert came on; "EAS: Undead rising." I took my glasses off thinking "What the fuck? Is the EAS hacked or something like what happened in Hawaii years back?" I clicked on the popup and read into the details. "EAS. The CDC has declared a state of Emergency in the following states: Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Florida, South Carolina, Tennessee, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, Utah, Nevada and Virginia. Health experts have confirmed a disease outbreak effecting those who have recently passed away. This disease is known to make those who are infected reanimate and have faster reflexes, increased motor function, and basic navigation. We urge you to stay indoors and avoid all contact with infected individuals. Please ensure to follow the following actions immediately: Secure your home Gather essential survival needs: Water, non-perishable food, weapons Stay informed via official outlets Avoid public areas and large gatherings to avoid the spread of the infection Stay quiet and alert- noise has been affirmed to garner infected individuals attention If you spot an infected individual before death, report all suspected infected to local authorities Follow local evacuation orders. Evac orders will be given to you via local EAS notifications. Remember to stay safe and vigilant. Do not go outside unless approved and safe guarded by military personnel to your evac zone." Shortly after reading that, everyone was freaking out in the office. Suddenly, my coworker Barry turned on the TV. I looked up and watched Governor Reyes on the podium speaking to the camera. "Today, I stand before you with a heavy heart and a sense of responsibility to safeguard our great state and its people. We are facing an unprecedented challenge, a threat to the health and well-being of our communities—a dangerous disease outbreak that requires immediate action. After careful consultation with our state's legal advisors and public health experts, I have taken the difficult decision to declare martial law in Texas. This decision has not been taken lightly. It is crucial that we act swiftly and decisively to contain the spread of this dis-" What happened next had Barry scrambling to turn off the TV, but he dropped it. I'd look back at the TV and witness the Lieutenant Governor, Patrick, rip into the neck of the Governor Reyes, his blue with white stripe suit now red, a dark maroon red. Something you'd see out of one of those cheap horror movies, but this wasn't a horror movie. I saw Samantha pass out from shock as she witnessed essentially our governor get murdered on live television. Shortly after Reyes fell and Patrick continued to devour on Reyes neck like a juicy pork shoulder, three shots rang out, multiple military personnel running over as one of them pushed the camera to the ground, still live, we could only hear the massacre and imagine what was happening. Eventually after around half a minute, it cut to a pre-recorded video of the national anthem. You know, those ones that were recorded during the cold war? Yeah, guess they never got around to rerecording those. The office was practically in chaos as people got shoved, people exiting through the front door, squeezing tightly together like a pack of sheep getting herded into a pen. I left through the back door, making sure I had my keys before I went to my car. I turned on the ignition as I quickly asked Siri to call Ada about Sophie

#Character lore #Kronchy's stories #John Part 1

[catscraftsandcommentary]

How to know if you're living in a pollen hellhole (as written by someone who grew up in one)

- whenever someone visits, you warn them to start taking allergy meds a couple weeks BEFORE they get to town

- the local weather board/forecasters/whoever put out "pollen alerts" just like all the other weather alerts (thunderstorm, flood, tornado, hurricane, high wind, etc)

- there are as many sinus/allergy doctor practices as there are general medicine practices...and you can't go half a mile without seeing one

- you know the signs of a sinus infection better than you know the signs of strep or pink eye...and you know which antibiotics will (and won't) work to get rid of it

- most adults have favorite pain meds for headache, backache, etc. YOU have favorite allergy meds for sore throat, congestion, etc

- (NEVER take Benadryl at work, friends, learn from my mistakes. Especially if you operate heavy machinery.)

- you also have a favorite type of cough drop and keep them in stock year-round

- (the one time they changed the fucking packaging, you nearly panicked in the middle of Walmart. Not your best day)

- your best friend moves away for a few years, comes back, and says "I didn't have a single sinus infection the whole time I was gone!" You hate her just a little

- the nurse at your doctor's office RECOGNIZES YOU because she sees you so often. Usually with a sinus infection. (Sometimes a migraine - sometimes a sinus migraine! Those are fun. NOT)

...in other news, today I greeted my coworkers with "guess who has a sinus infection?!?" (them: "oh no") "THIS BITCH"

#allergies #sinus problems #health problems

[my-secret-shame]

Random soulmate please 😜

🔮THE FATES HAVE DECIDED🔮

Your soulmate is: Duke Leto Atreides

And you met: in a Office cubicle

MODERN AU BABBYYYYYYY!

So I'm just having a good old chinwag with the Fates, and they're telling me this:

You weren’t happy. 

It had been days, weeks, months if you actually thought about it, since the cubicle next to you had an occupant. And that was exactly how you liked it. 

Your space was on the end, next to half of the wall and window on the right side, and one cubicle on your left. 

Since Amanda, a lovely quiet lady who minded her own business, but was not against knocking on the thin divider between you and asking if you wanted any biscuits from the break room, had left you had had the illusion of being on your own. 

And that was how you liked it. 

You could get your work done, and mess about just as much as you wanted. You could go and talk to coworkers in shared spaces if you wanted to, but you could also slink back to your corner and just… be. 

It was nice. Calm. Peaceful.

And now someone was taking that away. 

You tried not to begrudge this new hire, after all, it wasn’t their fault that they had been placed next to you. But still you couldn’t help the resentment that was creeping in. 

There were other empty cubicles. Why couldn’t they have been put there instead?

What if they were overly chatty? What if they were a goody two shoes and told tales if you were working every second of the working day? What if-

“Hi.” 

You were broken out of your thoughts by a distractingly handsome man holding a cardboard box. 

“I’m your new neighbour, Leto.” 

You finally remembered how to speak. “Hi,” you gave him a small wave and your name before turning back to your computer and pretending to work to hide your embarrassment. 

He nodded and turned away, setting his box down. 

You heard him start to unpack his items and shook your head. Annoyed at how dismissive you’d acted. 

Without giving yourself a moment too long to overthink it, you pushed your chair out just enough to peek around and tap your knuckles against the ‘wall’. 

Leto turned.

“Sorry, bad morning, can I help you get settled or anything?”

He gave you a blinding smile. “Actually, I was thinking about going to the break room, maybe get some biscuits or something, do you want any?”

Thank you so much! - sorry for the delay! I have an inner & middle ear infection at the moment that is kicking my butt.

My Secret Shame's Little Party

#duke leto atreides #drabble #let the fates decide #my secret shame's little party

[soap-brain]

if you wanna hear about a truly fucked up work place, do look under the cut

if not, carry on :3

background: i work as an ambulance crewmember for a sort of non-government organisation that isn’t non-profit. this means me n my colleagues may be the kind of people who show up when you’re like, dying or whatever

however, my company is absolutely SHIT and yes i will be handing in my notice soon

in no particular order, here goes:

plenty of people at other similar companies got extra money for working during covid. we didn’t, because we “can’t expect special treatment every time something extraordinary happens”

we should, however, constantly wear our ffp2 masks, even when not with a patient / at a hospital (so even when we’re sitting around at the station with nothing to do). this is in fact illegal according to work law bc you have to have frequent enough breaks. our bosses therefore explained that ActuallyTM, when we’re driving to a call or back from a hospital, we’re not actually working and thus the law doesn’t apply

but fear not! this does not apply to our bosses, who can sit in their joint office and NOT wear a mask at all, because of... secret reasons. and they also don’t have to wear the mask in the building. for secret reasons again

recently, the covid guidelines changed countrywide. my company has decided that they can now order a covid positive person to come to work DESPITE currently being infected in case the personnel situation requires it (spoiler: we are always short staffed so the situation always requires it). this worker is then ASKED to wear a mask. not even required to. ASKED

luckily enough, our station is so big that one can easily avoid an infected coworker... or not! the one common room we have (also the only room with chairs) can only very barely fit everyone who works during weekdays. so assuming every ambulance is in we have less than 30 square meters

... unless you also count the bathroom! it’s very smelly and really kinda gross and there’s a hole in the wall leading to the garage

the heating doesn’t really work either. this is because the heating is shit and also bc the one door leading to the outside doesn’t close properly

this broken door leads to a small outdoorsy corridor which has adjoined to it two shipping containers. those are our changing rooms. every person gets a locker for their private stuff! this locker is slightly bigger than your average microwave. the changing rooms are also freezing. unless someone put the heating on, in which case they’re above 30 degrees celsius

we also have a kitchen. this kitchen contains a fridge about the size of a minifridge at a relatively posh hotel. if everyone brings a tupperware box full of lunch then about half the lunches will have to sit outside the fridge

the luxury coffee machine we’d crowdfunded among us for broke. the bosses took five months to get on to buying a new one. just because

(well. i ASSUME they’ve actually bought it and it will be installed. that’s what the bosses SAY. but i have reason to doubt their work)

we have wifi! about 6 mb/s...

last year we got smoke detectors installed. there were none before that.

the table is perpetually sticky. we do not know why. the chairs are perpetually really grossly discoloured. we do not ask why. the sofa is lumpy. we have accepted this.

there are, depending on the season, rats, mice, roaches, spiders, ants that are just. living there also.

the garage is unheated. meaning when we get to the weekly disinfecting routine that's required for each ambulance, we work with potentially freezing water. this is against work law, but our boss said the garage isn’t our workplace so it doesn’t matter if it’s cold there. the fact that we have to clean the ambulances in the garage, with the doors open due to the fumes from our disinfectant stuff... yeah....

but enough about how shit the building is! more about the people i work with!

there’s kevin, a perpetually sick chronic liar who presumably has münchhausen’s. he’s off sick more than half his working days. also he’s on opiates! he also comes to work while high off marijuana. he has also come to work while off sick and ordered people around

there was that one colleague who threatened to kill another colleague bc she’d been messaged by the first colleague’s boyfriend

same colleague worked while drunk once. there were three people who independently of each other smelled the booze on her breath. boss said he wouldn’t do anything bc we couldn’t prove it

the aforementioned boyfriend was fired after he physically attacked another colleague

one lady was only placed on probation after she’d: not resuscitated a patient who needed it, resuscitated (and thus injured) a patient who did NOT need it (and she did it incorrectly as well), threatened another colleague with violence, ignored the directives preventing the spread of infectious diseases and stole an ambulance

we have on several occasions hired people who didn’t have a driving license. you know, for the “drive ambulance” job

there was a guy who very frequently misused lights and sirens, destroyed important documents and destroyed patients’ health insurance cards after he forgot to give them back to them. he was never fired, just handed in his notice eventually

we have one guy who worked full time until the middle of last year (now only takes on shifts part time) bc he is in his mid 60s. he told the bosses hey, i’m old, i won’t do night shifts. they said okay cool we won’t plan you for any night shifts! but they lied

one girl likes to yell at dementia patients when they don’t immediately do what she wants (bc they can’t. understand. bc they have fucking dementia!!!!) (as in, patients with severe dementia)

there are a handful of people who sometimes just. don’t show up. or are perpetually late. there are no repercussions.

and the crowning achievement: our current vice station boss

company branch boss just decided that this guy would be a good fit. this guy is

racist: likes to be like “oh that name on the pager sounds mediterranean / arabic / smth like that. those people only pretend they have medical problems, let’s get some food before going there”

a sexual predator: approximately every young blonde girl who starts with us ends up reporting some kind of harrassment by him, including being pressed to take his number but also inappropriate touches. he has been reprimanded for this (gently) and we are not allowed to talk about it anymore. he continues his behaviour bc why not!

negligent at his actual job: likes to not check his ambulance at the beginning of the shift or not monitor patients properly

and really shit at his vice station boss duties! doesn’t do the shit that actually needs doing and rather thinks up new fancy ways he can tell all of us how to do our job while not making sure our storage is stocked up on all the things we need and while not getting any of the important paperwork done or not arranging any repairs for whatever shit is broken now etc

and now to company benefits!

if you jump through approximately eight billion hoops, you might get extra financing for your gym membership. this might also just cut out at some point

better check your salary thoroughly! people have gotten as little as zero monies despite working a full month bc of a widdle oopsie whoopsie somewhere!

get pressured to take on extra shifts!

but we do have a fruit bowl!

there’s more. there’s so goddamn much more. but if you speak up the boss will ensure you don’t do so again

i don’t even know when i’m leaving but by god i cannot wait

#it's soooooooo much fun! #can't wait to hand in my notice! #oh also upon one of the girls who was sexually harrassed asking our boss to please let her not have shifts with the harrasser #which. you know. is a reasonable request #the boss was like :) unfortunately i can't do anything about that. you gotta take care of it yourself :) #but hey at least we get a christian christmas card each year with some shit about how you ought to be grateful for... jesus or something #idk i toss them out as soon as i get them

[servingliesarchived]

so anyway, friendly reminder to get a full set of the vaccine whenever you can!

#𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 ; nerd central. #i'm only just starting to feel a bit better after getting the plague #i'm still not healthy and i'm exhausted but i feel well enough to write some things so #i'll start with my multi #my coworker who infected half the office #including me. and then i infected my roommate bc we live together #he's in the hospital on oxygen #he got only one dose of the vax so :// #i hope he gets out of it but don't be like that!!! #vaccine isn't gonna make you immune like claire of outl.ander would tell you #but both my roommate and i were vax'ed with two doses #and she has asthma and i have auto immune diseases and it's Terrible #but we're not at the hospital so #covid tw #covid // #covid 19 tw #covid-19 / #covid /

[gavin-plz-call-me]

Trust in Him

TW: Depictions of sexual harassment and sexual assault

You love your job, so when one of your coworkers begins to harass you, you're scared that you'll have to choose between your job and your safety. Luckily, Artem is here to support you.

This is my first time writing about sexual harassment/assault, so I apologize in advance if it's not a perfectly accurate portrayal.

AO3

Word Count: 3.3k

You needed this job, those words alone were all that kept you from doing something rash, but your resolve was growing thinner and thinner by the day. Every day you worked in the office, which, luckily for you, grew less frequent after becoming partners with Artem and joining NXX, one of your co-workers in particular was bound to come speak with you. This wouldn't be an issue if he were speaking to you about work issues, or a case, hell, even the weather but he, Julius, never came over for any productive reasons. The two of you had worked a case together a few months ago, but other than that, you should be complete strangers.

You could see Julius approaching from the corner of your eye, a nasty smirk plastered on his, and you hated to admit this, conventionally attractive face. While others might swoon at his good looks, you had to hold back a gag as he placed his hand firmly on your shoulder, enveloping your senses in his stale scent. He then slowly leaned down, his lips almost touching your ear, and whispered "That shirt makes your tits look great," his disgustingly wet breath sent shivers through your body as he gave your shoulder a squeeze and headed off like nothing happened.

As far as you knew, you were his only victim. The other ladies in the office swooned over him, speaking highly of his good looks and "great" skills as a lawyer. A few who had witnessed his advances towards you and misinterpreted your blush as shy interest complained of how envious they were that such a handsome, successful man was interested in you, and you kept quiet. You had heard enough horror stories of women who had come out about work-place harassment who were fired, never given or even considered for promotions, and even sued for slander, and you couldn't let any of that happen to you, you had to tolerate it. A job at Themis law firm is a dream for many law students, you included, and you wouldn't let that slip away. Even if you had to endure harassment, even if you had to leave your desk to escape to the bathroom some days because you couldn't keep the tears out of your eyes, even if you couldn't fall asleep some nights because images of what he's done to you and what he's capable of doing to you infect your mind, even if you had to start wearing ill-fitting clothes to hide your figure in an attempt to get him to leave you alone, and even if you were terrified to be in a room alone with him, lest he become bolder, you had to persevere. If everything in your life went right, you'd become his boss one day, and when that day came, you could fire his ass.

Of course, though, you weren't the boss, and you had to listen to what yours said. So, when your manager approached you a few days after Julius's latest incident telling you you'd be assisting him in a case, there wasn't much you could do to get out of it. Artem and you weren't working on any urgent cases at the moment, so he gave them permission to steal you away for the case. You were very skilled in working the case type Julius was "stuck on" so your manager said you the obvious choice for the job. There was no way out.

Julius invited you into his office with a sickly-sweet smirk and an almost impermeable wink as a knot settled in your stomach. Something in you screamed at you, don't go in there, it yelled, anywhere else. Just not his office.

"Well, I wouldn't want to intrude in your personal space," You said, trying to keep an aura of professionalism while also trying to protect yourself. There were still others around, if you start to show your discomfort, you'd be found out. You felt like you were lying, in a way, maybe you were? Guilt ran up and down your spine, and you hoped the feeling didn't translate to your expression.

"Oh, MC." His voice was outwardly cheery with an undertone of something, though you couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, "You could never be an intrusion to me. Let's use my office, I insist."

No, no no, the voice within you screamed again, you felt your breath hitch slightly, but you forced your breaths to be normal, despite how badly your lungs wanted you to gasp for air. "I would prefer it if we worked somewhere else, Julius." His name tasted disgusting on your tongue, "My desk for example," the two of you squeezed together, trying to work at the same small desk, his smell surrounding you, "or an empty conference room," still alone in a room together, his hands reaching out to touch your body, "or-"

"Mc, this would all be much simpler if we just worked in my office, I promise you, I don't mind." There was a hint of aggravation in Julius's voice, but it disappeared the longer he spoke. "There won't be any meeting halls open, now come on, let's go to my office."

You stood still for half a second, debating just running away, job be damned, but you didn't have time to start walking. You hadn't even decided which way to go, towards Julius's office or towards the main exit, when a voice rang out, "Mc, Julius, conference room six is open." You turned around, eyes meeting the bright sapphire eyes belonging to Artem. His brows were slightly furrowed, looking you up and down.

"Great," You said before Julius could say a word, "thank you Artem." You turned back to Julius, his eyes were much less kind than Artem's, and all you wanted to do was turn back to face the man with the beautiful eyes and put Julius in the depths of your memories, but you plaster on a fake smile as you say, "conference room six it is, then!" You quickly passed Julius, feeling two sets of eyes burning into you as you walked away. Julius's office was past conference room six, so as you entered the room Julius walked towards his own office instead, muttering something about needing to grab his case files.

You were glad that you didn't end up in his office, but the conference room wasn't much better, panic began building up in your chest again. There were large windows leading out into the hallway, which you sat right in the middle of giving anyone who walked by a perfect view of you and whatever you were doing. Conference room six was the most open of the conference rooms, but the hallway around here was never too busy. The windows also left a few blind spots, places he could back you into if he really wanted to. With slightly shaky hands you opened your laptop, opening an audio recording app. There weren't any security cameras in this conference room, and even though your gut stopped you from telling anyone about Julius, something within you told you to record.

The door to the conference room quickly opened and shut. You minimized the recording app, the pulsing red dot indicating that it’s recording disappears along with it. Julius throws a few case files onto the conference table before walking around to sit directly next to you. You rolled your chair away from him slightly, trying to escape his revolting stench. You began speaking about the case, reading the case files, and making comments about the stranger details, details you could use to defend your client.

The two of you continued to talk about the case for a while, the anxiety that had grown so high before began to dwindle, maybe you were wrong. Maybe Julius wasn’t going to take this chance to do something horrible to you, maybe he never was going to do anything to you. Had you just imagined his threats? “Mr. Johnson’s embezzlement of the school’s funds could be grounds for-”

"Tease," Julius interrupted you, his voice much darker, almost an inhumane growl, than what it was when you were surrounded by your coworkers. Darker than it was even a few seconds before when you were talking about the case.

"E-excuse me?" you asked, your professional front slipping, anxiety raising in your stomach once again.

Julius inched closer to you, holding the back of your chair to prevent you from rolling further away from him, "I said, you're a fucking tease Mc. Making me go back and forth like that." The undertone you couldn't pinpoint from before was back, but it was much more pronounced now. Anger mixed with desire, his unkempt nails dug into the skin of your thigh as he pushed himself onto you, "but you're not gonna tease me anymore."

Desperately, you pushed your feet against the floor as hard as you could, propelling your chair into the one behind you, allowing you to stand up and try to make it to the door. Julius's hand violently grabbed your wrist, yanking you back towards him. “Come on, Mc,” he growled in your ear, “everyone in the office knows you’re whoring around to get to the top. You can’t refuse me.”

You struggled against his grip, but every movement you made had him tightening his hold around your wrist, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Julius.” you gasped as the pain of his hand on you became too much.

This seemed to enrage Julius, who suddenly stood up from his chair, forcing you against the wall furthest from the door. Your head smacked violently into the wall sending sparks of pain through your vision. “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Everyone knows you’re putting out for Artem. Why else would he choose some sub-par slut of a lawyer to be his partner?”

“I-I didn’t-” Julius put more pressure on you as you tried to speak, stopping your words completely.

“Let’s put it this way, Mc,” Julius's hands snaked in opposite directions, one reaching your throat, putting suffocating pressure on it, the other gripping your ass, pulling you unwillingly closer to his body, “You put out for Artem to advance your career, and if you’re a good little slut for me, you can keep your career.” He pulled you somehow tighter into him, his mouth ghosting your ear before delivering a harsh bite into its flesh. “If not, you can kiss being a lawyer goodbye.”

The knot in your stomach twisted, the job you were passionate about, the coworkers you loved, Artem, your senior partner who had already taught you so much, could he really take all of that away from you? Was it really worth it to lose all that to him? Maybe you should just let him have you, once to save your job. But, as Julius’s hand moved from your ass forward, threatening to touch you in a much more intimate place, something in you broke. No. You wouldn’t let him take your career away, but you also wouldn’t let him have you. Throughout your career as a lawyer, you fought and fought and fought for your clients, day in and day out so they could find justice, and it was time for you to fight for yourself.

You thrust your knee upwards into Julius’s groin, and in the split second where he was caught off guard, you used all your strength to push him off of you. You ran for your laptop, his angered cries of pain filling the room as he stood motionless in the spot you left him in, grasping at his groin, trying to ease the pain. You took the opportunity to haphazardly grab your laptop and head for the door. Julius’s hand grazed your arm again as he regained some of his movement, but you were too far away from him at this point. He couldn’t reach you.

Escaping the suffocating air of that conference room could have been the happiest moment of your life. You saw Julius staring at you from the corner of your eye, still standing in the conference room, slightly doubled over. He wouldn’t dare chase you through the office, and he was out of sight before you could figure out what his next move would be. Adrenaline pumping through your body, you made your way across the office. You weren’t sure where your legs were taking you until you were already knocking at the door you sought out, Artem’s office.

The moment you saw Artem as he opened the door, his face going from stoic as always, then softening at the sight of you, and finally, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he got a better look at you all in a matter of seconds, the emotions you had kept hidden for months suddenly broke free. Tears threatened to escape your eyes, so you broke your gaze away from Artem, opting to look down at your own shoes instead. You really didn’t want to cry in front of Artem. You so desperately wanted to be a great lawyer like him, famous for winning countless cases. He wouldn’t be so vulnerable as to cry in front of a coworker, and you wanted to follow in his footsteps. You tried to push them back, but they refused.

Artem put a gentle hand on your upper back as he led you into his office, closing the door behind him, and placing his jacket on you. It smelt strongly of him. You could detect hints of vanilla from his cologne which made you want to envelop yourself further into the cloth. He led you to the sofa in his office, Artem himself sitting down on the coffee table in front of you. His kind, gentle movements, so contrasting from Julius’s threats, made the tears stream down your face harder. You began to shake from the loss of adrenaline, and you buried your face in your hands.

Artem was at a loss for what to do. He’d never seen you cry before, he felt helpless as he watched you heave from your tears. One thing was certain in his mind, however: Julius had something to do with this. He could sense your discomfort earlier when he’d suggested the two of you use conference room six to discuss business. He could tell you were trying your hardest to suppress the feelings, but they were prevalent enough on your person for him to detect, but his actions had failed to protect you further. A part of him wanted to leave the office immediately, find Julius, and beat him to a pulp wherever he stood, but a more sensible part of him knew you needed him right now. Julius could be dealt with later.

Slowly, Artem stood up from his place on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, a good few feet away from you in order to give you space. You finally looked up at him when you felt his weight on the couch. Your eyes were red and irritated from the tears, makeup running down your face in light gray streaks. You desperately wiped away at them, but it didn’t make a difference. Artem’s soft voice finally broke the silence between the two of you, “Mc, can I hug you?” The hysterical part of your brain was surprised by his words. In your emotional state, you expected him to reject you, and act disgusted by your emotions. You nodded slightly, desperately wanting his comfort.

Before you knew it, Artem had slid closer to you on the couch, taking you in his arms, and gently pressing you into his chest. This simple action started your tears anew. You began crying harder than before, gasping for breath. Clumsy words spilled out of your mouth as you tried to tell Artem what had happened. You thought he deserved to know why you came to his office crying, but Artem simply gently shushed you, rubbing comforting circles into your back. “You don’t need to say anything yet, Mc,” he whispered

The two of you stayed like that for a long time until your tears eventually slowed to a stop. At that point, you pulled away from Artem, desperately missing his warmth as soon as you did so. Artem slid his hand in yours, giving it a gentle, supportive, squeeze before speaking again, “If you’d like to tell me what happened, I’ll be here for you, okay?” Artem’s comforting words, his warm hand in yours, and his beautiful blue eyes made everything that’s happened with you in relation to Julius spill. You couldn’t look at him as you told him about everything: the case you worked on together, how he’d continue to go to your desk even when the case was over, how that escalated to the harassment you had to endure, what just happened in the conference room, and the audio recording of the incident.

When your gaze finally settled back on Artem, he was wearing an expression you had never seen on him before. It was anger, it was concern, it was... it was something else you couldn’t quite place. Artem pushed himself up from the couch, his eyes on the door to the office. You tightly grasped his arm, stopping him from moving towards the door. The door meant he’d tell, the door meant all your fears would come to fruition, the door meant you’d have to face the world outside Artem’s warm embrace again, and you didn’t want that. “Please don’t,” you whimpered, new tears stinging your eyes, “don’t tell anyone, please.” A sob escaped your throat, making Artem sit back on the couch next to you. “I love my job here, I love working with you and Kiki. I love being your partner and working on NXX cases with you. I don’t want to lose it all.”

Artem was back to rubbing circles into your skin, this time at the base of your shoulder. “You won’t lose your job, I promise.”

“B-But, so many people have b-been fired because they r-report assault, I-I can’t l-let that happen.”

“Mc,” Artem said, his voice slightly stern, but still gentler than you’d ever heard it before, “please look at me.” Your eyes trailed up his body, which was still holding you, and finally met his eyes. “I won’t let that happen, okay?” His hand found your hair, gently combing through it with his fingers, “I promise you that you’ll be okay, that your job will be okay. I’ll put Julias in jail if it’s the last case I ever take, just please, please let me help you.” Before that day, you could never imagine Artem crying, but you knew the sight of his eyes filled with tears was real. He allowed you to see his emotions just as you’d allowed him to see yours. He wasn’t some emotionless lawyer who would allow his coworker to be fired because they told the truth. He was a man who’d openly share your emotions with you, even if that meant sharing your tears. You could trust him, you knew that now.

“Okay,” you let the word with a shaky breath, “I trust you, Artem.”

Artem stood up from his place next to you, not letting your hand go quite yet. He leaned over you, giving your forehead a gentle kiss, before looking into your eyes, determination filling his own sapphire ones. Your body slightly tensed when Artem finally removed his hand from yours, you quickly grew cold at the lack of his warmth, but you let him go. You watched his figure as he reached the door, taking one more glance behind him towards you, and left, shutting the door behind him. Eventually, you knew, everything would be okay again.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fic #tears of themis fanfic #tears of themis artem #artem x reader #artem wing #angst #hurt/comfort #tw sex assault #tw sa #tw sex harrasment #artem wing x reader

[resident-leevil-old]

okay well anyways somebody asked me if i felt like talking about my raccoon city survivors au with mia and ethan again and the answer is YES.

> AU MINI FACTS <

- Ethan's mother died while giving birth.

- Ethan Winters and his father moved into Raccoon City when Ethan was a baby, around 3-4 years old.

- Ethan trans ftm because im trans and i said so.

- Mia trans mtf because im trans and i said so.

- Ethan & Mia are childhood friend to lovers in this au.

- Ethan's father worked for Umbrella, and Mia's father worked for the Connections while her mother also worked for Umbrella.

- Mia was born in Texas, but her family moved to Raccoon City after she was born. They still owned property in Texas, though.

- Mia & Carlos are related because I said so.

- so yknow the "dude its been three years" guy? that's their childhood friend and his name is Kyde because i said so.

- Albert Wesker Personally was ordered by Spencer to kill those scientists btw.

- a lot of this au is because i said so tbh

> AU SUMMARY <

Ethan Winters, Mia Oliviera, and Kyde Wells work together to survive six days of the Raccoon City Outbreak. In the process they uncover secrets and encounter many obstacles that just nearly cost them their lives.

> CHAR.BGROUND <

ETHAN W, SR - A scientist who worked for Umbrella. He lost his wife during the birth of his child E///// Winters. Struggling with the death of his wife and the harsh decline of his mental health, he began to experiment with viruses and vaccines in an attempt to bring his wife back, even using his child as a subject at certain points due to the child having strong genes from the mother. He acknowledged that he was a horrid father, but justified his actions by claiming he would bring back a better mother. He thought of Albert Wesker as a friend, and told him the truth of his research.

ETHAN W, JR - A quiet 14 year old that had a hard time making friends. Due to experiments from his father, Ethan is a culmination of infections and viruses that each impact him in different ways. As he grew up Ethan refrained from talking too much as to not interrupt his father's work, causing him to become selectively mute.

MIA OLIVIERA - Younger sister of Carlos Oliviera. Mia skipped a grade due to her intelligence and advanced knowledge on many things kids her age normally didn't. She very easily got sick as a child, though she seemed to outgrow it as she got older. She was schooled both at home and at school before the outbreak. She shared classes with Ethan Winters (Jr) and Kyde Wells.

KYDE WELLS - A friend of Ethan & Mia, known for his cowardice. Kyde has a heavy sense of self preservation, but a weighted sense of compassion as well. He only ever has risked himself for his two friends.

JAMES HARISON - Mia's father. He worked for the Connections as a scientist and a researcher. Harison and his wife often exchanged information they learned from their jobs, aiming to and succeeding at "fixing" their daughter's proneness to viral sicknesses.

MARISA OLIVIERA - Mia's mother. He worked for Umbrella as a researcher. Oliviera and her husband often exchanged information they learned from their jobs, aiming to and succeeding at "fixing" their daughter's proneness to viral sicknesses.

JAKE VERANO - An Umbrella worker who had been trapped in the underground facility for a week, listening to the sound of his coworkers being eaten alive. Unstable because of his experience, he tries to create a cure using the intel of Ethan W (SR).

> FULL AU <

[September, 25, 1998.]

Ethan Winters walked home from school when his father failed to pick him up. He walked through the streets, paying no mind to a big fight breaking out near him. On the way home, he meets up with his friend Kyde who had also been walking home. They talk and walk together for a bit, before splitting up.

When Ethan arrived home, he noticed the front door of his house had been opened slightly. Confused, but wary, he entered the house, knowing it was uncharacteristic for his father to forget the door was open.

He entered the living room, and found his father laying on the ground dead, shot twice in the head, having just been killed moments prior. Ethan moved over to his father, before Albert Wesker walked out of his father's office.

Ethan barely has much time to react to him, overwhelmed by his own panic and the death of the only adult in his life. Wesker - wanting no witnesses - shoots him three times in the chest, and leaves under the impression the child is dead for good.

Ethan Winters dies for the first time that evening.

[September, 27, 1998]

For the past two days, Mia and her parents have been barricaded in their home, unable to leave safely. Mia sat in her room for most of the time, unable to look out of the windows due to boards covering them. During those two days Mia tries to call Ethan and Kyde several times in hopes that they were safe. Neither of them answer.

Until this day, the 27th, at 2:00 am, when she calls Ethan. And he answers.

{TRANSCRIPT OF THEIR CALL:}

Ethan: h-hello?

Mia: [Ethan]! You're alive! Are you okay?

Ethan: I'm breathing. [Pause] I'm breathing. You okay?

Mia: I'm boarded up in my house, we can't leave safely. Everything is a mess. I'm so glad you're alive, [Ethan]. Are you safe? I'm guessing you're safe.

Ethan: Not sure. Not sure. Find you soon, here alone. Alone.

Mia: Alone? What happened? Where's your dad?

Ethan: [Pause.] [Loud sound in the distance.]

Mia: [Ethan]? Are you okay?

Ethan: [Dial tone.]

Mia speaks with her parents about the call, expressing worry about her friend. She spends a while trying to convince her parents that Ethan may be alive (purposefully omitting the dial tone) and need their help. Finally, they agree, and at 12 pm, they head out with all the resources they could gather.

Managing to stay out of sight, the family make it to the Winters' household. They find Ethan hiding in his bedroom, one infected laying in the hallway with a pole through its head and Ethan's father laying in the living room dead.

They rescue Ethan, and flee from the house. Mia's parents explain that they need to evacuate the city, but that they wouldn't be able to drive, so they'd have to move on foot. They returned to their house and rested for the night.

[September, 28, 1998]

The family and Ethan head out again, this time aiming to evacuate the city. After several close encounters with large groups of infected, the kids and Mia's parents are unfortunately separated. Given instructions by her parents, Mia leads Ethan through the city, having to take detours due to infected blocking pathways.

Eventually, during the night, they run into Kyde, who has lost his parents trying to escape the city. The three of them take refuge in an empty abandoned house, and rest for the walk in the morning.

Ethan sits up for a while, thinking about what happened to him, and trying to figure out how to explain it to his friends. Eventually he falls asleep, unable to figure it out. In the morning they head out again.

[September, 29-30, 1998]

During another detour taken due to large groups of infected, Ethan is kidnapped by a man in a white lab coat.

Mia & Kyde go after them, refusing to leave Ethan behind. They manage to find him after roughly half a day had passed.

Ethan had been in a hysterical state and through tears he explains to Mia and Kyde what had happened to him in his house a few days ago, confessing that he had died and revived two days later. He warns the two of them that whatever Jake, the white lab coat man, did to him, it made him dangerous and unstable.

Mia and Kyde refused again to leave him behind, and spend hours gathering information from files and research left scattered around. They manage to make Something that was able to calm him down and cleanse what they had learned had been called the "T-virus" from his body.

As soon as Ethan had woken up again, they fleed the facility, Mia & Kyde both making sure he didn't collapse on the way.

[October, 1, 1998]

They don't stop running when they're out. A broadcast goes out saying that the city will be blown up in four hours due to being unable to contain the outbreak. The three of them realize they won't be able to get out if they take anymore detours unless they find a vehicle with gas in it and a clear road to drive on.

Three hours later, out of options, nearly to the city boarder, and faced with another group of infected blocking the only straight shot out, they decide to risk a run through. However, just as they were pushing through, a helicopter flew overhead and spotted them. Calling to them, the pilot tells them to attempt making it up a building nearby if they could.

Through pure bullshittery and luck, they manage to make it up, and they board the helicopter. Just as it begins to take flight, the city starts to blow up bit by bit. In the distance, they see other helicopters flying.

> AFTER THE AU <

Mia and her parents reunite, her parents having managed to get out before the children did. Kyde goes to live with his relatives in Texas, and Ethan is offered to live with them as well.

Mia's parents move back to their texas home, and everyone who had been in the city were given therapy. Eventually the three grow up and graduate from highschool, and move on to other things, never once separating.

The three of them eventually move into a single house together in California, and some time after that Mia and Ethan get married. And for a while they live happily

And then, Mia witnesses Ethan having some sort of attack in the middle of the night one time, and realizes that he hadn't been completely cured of whatever had been infecting him in the city at all, and that it had only gone dormant for some years. While he wasn't vicious or attacking anyone, Ethan had just been really plagued and didn't even remember the fits that only seemed to happen every other night.

Out of worry and fear, Mia begins to work for the Connections, hoping there was something she could learn from them in order to help her husband finally be cured. And years after, RE7 began.

And THAT, my friends, is my Raccoon City Survivors au with the Winters, also known as Raccoon City Winters.

#raccoon city winters #resident evil au #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #ethan winters #re8 #mia winters #re8 mia winters #resident evil #resident evil ethan winters #albert wesker #ethan w is ethan winters' dad #trans ethan #trans mia #ethan w was a horrible father with intentions #i retcon canon because fuck canon #selectively mute ethan winters #autistic ethan winters #autistic mia winters #mia winters has adhd #ethan winters has adhd #ac: ethan w. #ac: kyde wells #ac: james harison #ac: marisa oliviera #ac: jake verano #ac = alternate/alternative characters

[medical-gal]

Death by a thousand cuts

I have been thinking about writing this for months now. Even before I decided to quit the residency at my previous job.

COVID has been kicking our ass, true, but that was (is) true for most healthcare providers all around the world.

No, my struggle started a bit before that actually.

First some background, I have been working at one of the biggest most famous ID clinics in central Europe. The clinic is in a different country than I am originally from so there was a bit of cultural accommodating at the begging. But we were a big group of ID interns/residents/fellows and specialists.

I don't actually remember that much from my first year working there. And I couldn't figure out why, but then I read in some study that when u experience a high dose of stress and/or sleep deprivation for a long time, your brain kinda stopps being able to transcribe short term memory into a long term.

I was working 100hours/week, sometimes less, sometimes more. After a year and a half, when the last half I worked in the ID ER for five months, I always stayed after working 24 hours, sometimes over 36hours, and I would see and treat 70ish patients. Nobody from the older docs would help me out, nobody from other interns either bc usually they would have their own kind of hell to take care of.

The fact that basically, inexperienced doctors are taking care of patients never really phased my ex-boss. Her mantra was that if there was a problem that you cannot resolve, you can call her and she would advise you. Which most of the time was true, I must say that.

But we all have been young docs, barely out of our medical school garments, and sometimes as it happened, we could not recognize there IS a problem that maybe needs a more experienced opinion.

I am often confronted with this idea or more like a culture, of pretending that once you are an MD you don't need help and asking for it is a kind of weakness and that then you are forever on the list of WEAKLINGS.

And let me say this only once.

That's absolute bullshit.

Anyway, the first time I decided to quit I worked there for about a year and a half, I went for a long-expected holiday, I took three weeks off, had interviews and talked with my bf about my options.

Second thing...my man, bless his beard, would support me no matter what. He is almost 10 years older than me, so he has more work experience and I find it reassuring to discuss stuff like this with him bc I know he will not sugarcoat it. He said that I should dig my heels in and last at least one more year till the end of my "internship". As a "resident" who worked at this specific department, I wouldn't have a problem finding another job. We r basically the equivalent of a french legion of medical professionals (when u work in this specific department and everyone knows it, I will come back to that later).

So I took his advice. Thankfully as a part of our training, one of those parts is a year-long internship at the internal medicine department, which I did shortly after we had that conversation and guys, that was a revelation of how medicine and just...work and life can be experienced. There were enough docs for a floor, an attending who had the time to manage and advise us. I´ve grown that year as a doc so much. Other internships were mandatory so I could have become (equivalent of) a resident, and it was a general surgery, anesthesiology, radiology, microbiology etc. But I did them all and became a resident.

The moment I came back to our clinic, my boss would put me in our outpatient department. Which I have never worked on before. The head of the department has quit a few months before, and I had no idea what to do there, bc it's a very different type work. The only thing my boss told me when I spoke of my concerns were "you will learn".

Thankfully the previous head of the department was a good friend of mine and she would always answer my questions and requests. Suddenly I no longer had to deal with the hectic life of an ID floor or ER, no sepsis, meningitis, etc.

Most of my patients were the chronic type...Lyme, chlamydia, mycoplasma... let's say it literally drained the life out of me. But I managed. Also, I started to work for their outpatient office which takes care of patients with chronic hepatatis. That I enjoyed more.

I also started to dip my toes in vaccinology, either planned like for travel but I started to be more interested in preventive care in the immunocompromised and my own phantasmagoria was to make a palliative care team in our hospital. Bc, we had none. And then a wonderful thing happened, other docs, older experienced, great at their work, started to refer their patients to me specifically.

There were more examples of the utter a complete FUCK U(s) which were kindly provided either by the system or by the head of the department or the hospital.

Then covid hit and the shit hit the interstellar space.

I still can't make myself remember the first few months bc it actually causes me to go into a rage fit, and honestly, I am done with that kind of negativity.

I hold out for a year. Year of such shitty treatment from the chief and our hospital head. No thank you- s or you are doing a good job or we r all on the same ship.

No.

People will say that I quit bc of the money. And that's not true, tho it did irk me a bit. All the other ID specialists working at different hospitals would get covid bonuses every month. We got jack shit. Again, the best biggest most know ID clinic. We were the first and oftern the ONLY ones who would test for/diagnose/hospitalize/treat a patient who had covid FOR MONTHS in the beginning.

I mean, the medical community is small, the ID community even smaller so yes, we were able to compare and contrast the work at different ID departments in other hospitals bc our friends worked there. And all of them would go speechless when they would hear from us what we were living thru.

At one point at the beginning of the pandemic, ALL the ambulances would go thru our ER department and we were supposed to decide where the patient should go.

AN EXAMPLE

Ambulance with a woman who has known colon cancer, had a fever, stomach as a rock and is projectile vomiting. I was supposed to decide where she should go and the surgeon would be super pissed when I said that I don't think she has COVID but without PCR I can't be sure but I think there is a bigger pressing issue. I remember him saying:

"well if anyone else gets infected at our department and dies, it's on you."

fun.

There were other examples of seriously stressful episodes which I and my coworkers lived thru, for which we were not trained for, advised, or properly supervised. At a certain point, I started to take anxiolytics before and during my all-nighters bc I didn't know what I would do with all that stress which was so callously shat on me and my coworkers.

For a few months, I stopped working nights, only thru the mercy of my coworkers who saw how exhausted I was and would take my shifts.

Anyway, after only two months I had to start working nights bc I needed the money. The basic pay for docs was just not enough without the extra from night shifts. Talk about exploiting.

The moment however when I decided to QUIT, when I was DONE, when I actually heard my heart break, was the moment at the end of the previous year. They decided to start vaccinating in our tiny small vaccination centre. Let's say a "shit storm" brewing is the light version of events that ensued.

But basically, as I was trying to discuss with my boss that we are all exhausted, that this wave is not slowing down and that throwing more work at us, the docs and nurses and other staff, who are overworked, is not a good idea,

What she basically said to me is that who says things like that is lazy and that if she can handle it everyone must be also.

The thing is..most of us were at the bring. Some would handle it with casual and calous sex, drugs (legal or not), a bottle of wine before sleep. A coworker ended up with antipsychotics.

But u know,

we were all lazy apperently.

I realized there is no way out of this other than quitting. I could not continue being so tired and sad all the time. I took two weeks off, really thought about it. Had diarrhoea and nausea for a week as I realized I will have to quit :D

On a Monday I came back, handed in my notice. Basically what she told me and how she reacted made me realized how right the decision was.

I had to stay there for another three months bc that's the law, but my mood changed significantly.

I got another job in a smaller ID department, working with amazingly kind people, but that's another story.

But that was the only interview I actually looked for and did. I, however, did get several job offers from different types of medicine. From heads of different departments in my old hospital to smaller general medicine chain offices who are looking for ID specialists, to insurance companies.

Like I said, french legion.

Or Runway and your boss is Miranda Pristley. Once u survive that, u survive anything.

But at my old work they would keep hitting you with wave after wave of passive agressive comments about how if u quit, u wont be able to find anything as"prestigious" as this.

There were many other exmaples of a shitty and questionable situations which were treated as "normal" but there is not point on getting on that rage train.

Contrary as it might seem, I am greatful I got to live thru this, good and bad, bc now I know what I am and am not willing to sacrifice for a job. No matter how much I might love it.

#sorry this is long #but goddammit it needed to be said #suzy's adventures in id

[deewithani]

Raindrops in the Wind - Chapter 2

Chapter Rating: T

Work Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word count: Approx. 2.1k

Warnings: Justice system abuse, light blood and gore, medical procedures performed by someone not medically qualified, discussion of potentially gross food.

A/N: Again, canon gets blown out of the water, borrowing from here and there to weave the narrative. OC's abound. No Jango in this chapter (he'll be back soon, I promise), we're learning about the reader. I know almost nothing about healthcare, so take that as you will and don't do what the reader does. Milvayne and the underworld are canon, but I took some liberties on my descriptions of the underworld (since I know next to nothing about it outside of this article: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Milvayne)

Chapters will list their individual ratings, work is rated Explicit (18+) for eventual explicit content.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Word had spread quickly through the underworld on Milvayne, passing from mouth to filth covered ear, each resident hearing the words a multitude of times: from the mouths of bandits, scavengers, old men dying in the gutter, children picking the pockets of newcomers who hadn't yet discovered they came to a foul place even the light of the maker refused to touch.

“Aleda Vole has work.”

The nature of that work was never spoken aloud, and endless throngs of people came and went from Vole's pawn shop, with no end in sight. To you it looked like Aleda was working night and day, the colorful 'Open' sign lit up no matter the time you passed by on your way to another house call.

You had been sentenced to exile here barely a year prior, punishment for your part in a bacta heist that went wrong. It had became increasingly difficult for the clinic you worked for to obtain basic medical supplies, so you and several of your coworkers took it upon yourselves to steal the supplies from a medical supply transport that was scheduled to arrive in Milvayne City. The heist should have went off without a hitch. The proper palms were greased, heads were turned the other way, but if something seems to good to be true, it probably is.

The theft itself was easy. You and your teammates were able to load up everything you needed and leave the dock without a single pursuer following in your footsteps. A not insignificant amount of credits had successfully bought an easy getaway.

What it failed to buy was silence. Someone was a rat.

Several weeks went by, enough that you felt you had been in the clear, when Milvayne Authority officers kicked down the front door of the clinic, arresting anyone unlucky enough to be in the building. A slew of trials commenced the same day and people were found guilty en masse. Every man, woman, and child that faced trial that day was convicted without so much as a second thought, and people were forced over the ledge into the underworld by the hundreds that day.

Since then, you had used your meager medical skills to barter for food, shelter, and literally anything else that was offered to you. It didn't matter if you were paid in half a yard of soiled fabric, it could be turned into something you could use, it could be traded for something else that you may need, or the new item you traded it for could be bartered yet again. It was a shame you had no real medical experience, though. Being able to heal was worth it's weight in gold, but you had been educated in the upkeep and maintenance of technical systems. Unfortunately there wasn't much need in someone repairing holoprojectors or hover-stretchers here. Those things rarely ever came over the ledge, and when they did they were grabbed up by people with a lot more power than yourself.

What enabled your survival is the fact that your job in the clinic had a lot of down time. If it wasn't time for the scheduled maintenance of the equipment, or something wasn't broke, you made yourself busy straightening up exam rooms, stocking, and chatting with the nurses and doctors at the clinic. You watched them perform basic medical procedures and listened in when they explained to their patients the various illnesses and injuries they were experiencing. Because of the continual lack of supplies you saw cuts being stitched by hand, home-made poultices being applied, and injuries being cleaned and dressed. You were even asked to stand in and assist a handful of times, whenever the need of the patients outpaced the staff that was available.

But now here you were, trudging along a muddy path, checking on your next “patient”, an old woman who cut her hand on some scrap metal she had been trying to pull from a pile near her shack. A friend of hers had found you and asked that you hurry to help, as she was bleeding heavily and she heard that you had some antibiotics. It was true, but the vial had been hard to come by, and you hoped that it would be a secret until you absolutely had to use them.

But this is the underworld of Milvayne. The only time secrets are held is when it is beneficial to hold them, and that is a rarity.

The path kept winding, twists and turns bracketed by piles of junk that looked as if they would fall over with a gust of wind, if such a pleasant thing as wind blew down here. The air was stale and all things smelled of rot, as if the odor had wormed its way into the being of every creature that made this place its home. You got used to it, after a time, but occasionally you would be woken from a pleasant dream as a whiff of death passed by your nose.

You finally made it to the door of your “patient”, a shack that was little more than a lean to with a front wall and overhang. Makeshift metal chimes hung from eaves, but unless they were moved by the hand of a passerby they would play no song without the wind to blow through them. They were an odd thing to see here as well. It wasn't safe to leave anything of value outside your dwelling. The common rule was that if it was outside, it was scrap, and anyone could take scrap. Crudely made and as useless as they were, they had value as trinkets. There was little good and enjoyable here, but people loved things they could play, at least as tools to take their minds off the reality of their circumstances.

This peculiar shack stood alone among the debris, short and squat, but solid, it's back crammed against another tall pile of scrap. You raised your fist to knock on the door, but it opened swiftly before your knuckles reached the wood. Before you stood an old woman, petite, back bowed and leaning on a makeshift cane. You stared for a moment, she had a rough, worn face creased by the passage of time, and a strong nose that looked too long for her thin face. Her hair was pure white, and was pulled back in a tight pony tail. You tried to see her eyes, but her eyelids were heavy and swollen. She looked as if she may have been retaining fluids.

The woman before you lifted her cane and let the end drop to the floor, letting out a bang that pulled you back to the present. “Well, honey. You the healer? Don't just stand there”, she said, before turning and moving back in the shack. You followed behind quietly, entering her darkened home. Inside was much more inviting than out. It was only one room, and there were a few piles of scrap in the small space, but the rest was cozy. A small cot was placed against the back wall, covered with a clean blanket and a fluffy pillow, and on the front wall was a stove, cooking what smelled like a very delicious stew you had been served before by other residents of the underworld. Two chairs and a small table sat in the middle of the room, finishing out the rest of the space.

“Your friend said you cut your hand on some scrap, ma'am.” you told her. “I ain't no ma'am, honey, call me Zola”, the old woman replied as she gestured for you to take a seat. You sat down and took her hand, noticing the small bit of cloth she had wrapped around it. It was stained red with blood at the palm, but unusually clean around the top. Her hands were suspiciously clean as well, considering she was digging for scrap in one of the dirtiest places in the galaxy.

You opened your makeshift medical bag and found your small pack of needles and the thread you had made from the remnants of an old blanket you had found peaking out of the mud the first day you had arrived. It was filthy and too small to be usable as much more than a cleaning cloth, but you had painstakingly washed and scrubbed the fibers until they were clean and you could separate them one by one. It had taken you the better part of the week to get enough usable thread, but it had been worth it in the end. Another medic traded you a couple of bent needles for a handful of your thread, and you were able to start the business of survival.

You carefully removed the bandage from her hand, taking care not to pull where it had began to stick to the blood. “This is a deep cut, Zola. I'll have to sew it up. You'll need some antibiotics too, and I've only got a little bit.” The cut wasn't very dirty, but there was very little fresh water to be had here, and you had none on you. You were going to have to sew her palm up as is, and you hoped a shot of antibiotics would keep her from getting an infection.

Carefully you threaded one of your needles and went to work. Zola was quiet while you worked, but you could see her scrunch her face and hold her breath whenever you would push the needle through her skin. The wound continued bleeding as you worked, so you used the wrapping she had bandaged herself with to clean up as you went along. By the time you were through you had placed 7 stitches in the palm of the old woman's hand, and the bleeding had finally stopped.

“There, good as new Zola. I need you to stand up and pull down the top of your pants for me so I can give you the antibiotics.” You filled your needle with the antibiotics and injected them into the top of her buttocks, a place that was least likely to cause her too much pain.

You were worried about the old woman, here alone at the end of the winding path. Afraid that she would meet her end here from whatever was causing the excess fluid. “Zola, you need to see a real doctor about the fluid you're holding. I'm worried that you've got a bigger problem than a cut on your hand. I'll ask around to see if there is someone who can help, but I don't know if I can find anyone. Have your friend ask around. Please.”

“Don't worry honey. I will. I'll be alright until I can find someone. Don't worry about me.”

“Alright, now that I'm finished, what are you going to pay with?” Zola looked up at you and cocked her head to the side. “Well, honey, I don't know what you charge. I don't have any money, and I don't have anything of value I can give you.” You thought for a moment. You hadn't survived here for a year without being flexible with how your clients paid you. Your kind heart wouldn't allow you to not help someone, even if they didn't have any way to settle up with you. You had been left in dire straits from time to time by your personal policy, but your kindness had also won you friends who looked out for you as well.

“I don't do credit, but if you give me a bowl of that stew I'll consider you paid in full. Does it have any meat?”

If the stew did have meat, it was best not to ask what kind. There were very few animals down here, anything not sentient was quickly grabbed and put into the closest stew pot for dinner. The meat in this pot could be anything from a scrap rat to grubs and worms. It didn't matter, though. That bowl was a matter of survival. Jabba the Hutt could be cooking in that pot and it wouldn't make any difference.

“Honey, you may have saved my life today. The least I can do is have you here for supper. Sit down for a while and let's talk. I think I have some information you can use.”

You sat in silence and ate your stew as Zola spoke of her years in the underworld. How she came to find herself in this place. How she found love. How she raised a fine, strong daughter. How they survived. The stew was delicious, and it was a rare treat to hear stories that held more than pain and sorrow.

As you finished your meal Zola rose and walked over to you. She placed her hand on your shoulder and leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Aleda Vole has work. You should go see her.”

__________

Taglist: @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @gummywurme @bobabitch88 @the-empress-strikes-back @tacticalsparkles @rebelpitstop

If anyone wants added to my taglist, let me know ☺️

#jango fett x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars au #order 66 au #star wars oc #star wars original character

[snxwboarder]

//Hey friends. I’m back.

I’ve got an update on the situation I talked about a few days ago. Honestly writing the post I wrote last time really helped me, so I want to do it again. Just to put my thoughts down and allow myself to process.

If you’re going to read (which you’re welcome to!) please make sure you’ve read the trigger warnings in the tags.

But, just a tldr for anyone possibly concerned about my safety: I’m at my parents place now with all 5 of my ferrets and most of my stuff. I feel safe and loved and free. Still scared. Still sad. Still hurt. But very hopeful of the future.

Here I go

Like I said in my last post, I didn’t think I was in an abusive relationship. I was struggling to see it. Even when my friends pointed out the gaslighting and the manipulation, I always had a reason for why he acted the way he did. An explanation for his actions forever engraved into my system because I have always been the one to be there to save him. To excuse him. To forgive him.

It changed last night.

Abusive relationship.

Not something I thought I was in.

Until, for the first time since my dad pushed me out of the room so he could hit my mom when I was 11 years old, my partner became physical.

My boyfriend, of 7 years, who I reassured my friends, not even half an hour earlier, would never lay a hand on me.

Got physical.

I worked a full day yesterday, left the house before he got up. I fed the ferrets before I left, giving my senior ferret her twice daily lifetime medication 2 hours earlier than I normally do because I worked the morning shift - and I knew he wouldn’t wake up to do it.

We still hadn’t talked. Not much. How many days does that make it that he hasn’t spoken to me... 5? I lost count.

Our conversations consisted of me saying “have a good day at work” and his grunt in reply. A short “I’m going to my grandma’s house” because I needed to get out. 

It wasn’t talking. Not really.

There was a time I think he wanted to talk. He came into the bedroom on the 4th night of us sleeping apart. He sat down, didn’t say much. I know he was trying to get me to ask what was wrong, if he was okay, what I could to do help him. But I didn’t say anything.

Which was.... hard.

Really hard.

I’ve spent 7 years being trained, like a collared bitch that comes to it’s masters call that when he’s upset, I find the solution. When we fight, I ask for forgiveness. When we can’t decide, I compromise. 

7 years of training. 

This time I didn’t do it though. No matter how tight he pulled the collar around my neck, the mumbled phrases he said to lure me in:

“I’m so tired...”

That’s what he said. He’s tired. 

Him.

He didn’t ask how I was, he didn’t ask what I was thinking. He just sat there. Staring down into his lap. Breathing. Waiting for me to beg for forgiveness for a fight he started, for words he said, for a relationship he molded. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

That’s the last real thing he had said to me and it still rings back and forth in my head. 

4 days he left me with that.

20 minutes, give or take, that’s how long he sat there waiting. But I didn’t say anything. If he wanted to talk about the fight, I was ready to talk, but I knew it would end in a breakup right there and then at 1am. Not the ideal time. But... ideal times don’t really exist.

He left though. Wordlessly. Closing the door behind him just like the walls he always put up so that I could work to tear them down and make it right. 

The next morning I went to work.

And while I stared into our empty store, my new coworkers that I’ve only known for 2 days standing around me. I made the choice that it was over. I was done sitting here with an infected bandage waiting for it to heal itself. I wanted to rip it off. Let the air sting against the cut he had caused so it could finally get a chance to breathe. To heal.

We were done.

I came home from work with determination in my steps and the most stomach turning anxiety in my gut. 

We were done.

I entered the house. Silence. I go to his office. He’s playing fortnite. 

He doesn’t notice me at first because he’s talking to his friends. His mood is different. He’s happy, I know it. I move towards him and he recognizes that I’m there. 

“How was work?”

It was like nothing was wrong. 

I’m still confused about that part but I didn’t focus on it for too long. “Can we talk when you’re done your game?” I said. 

He agreed. I left the room to go downstairs.

I didn’t take my work uniform off thank god I didn’t take my work uniform off. My car keys were in my pocket because I didn’t stop to put them down. The ferret travel cage was in the car, not because I had it there as a “just in case” but simply because, like the keys, I had forgotten to put it away when I brought them inside after a vet appointment last week. 

I text my friends to let them know that it’s happening. I had talked to my mom on the phone on the drive home from work to give her a heads up that tomorrow they’ll probably need to get me. 

Tomorrow. I can’t believe I thought he’d let me stay the night.

He called my name when he was done the game. We never use each other’s names. Always pet names when we’re alone. So it was odd.

I went upstairs to his office and stood in the doorway.

He asked if I wanted to take a seat.

I said I did not.

The conversation that follows is not something I’m ready to fully bring myself back to, not yet, maybe not ever. I was clear in my intentions, firm with when I was leaving, and as factual as I could be. I explained what I felt he deserved to know, and allowed him to take the silences he needed to take.

A broken man sobbed in front of me, begging me to stay. Saying, for the millionth time, that he could change if I needed him to despite how I’d never seen the evidence of it. Said we could stop having sex for good. Said I was all that he had and without me he was completely alone. Said I couldn’t leave because if I did he would be by himself in a house with no one.

And then he remembered the ferrets.

“Are you taking the girls?” He asked me, breaking again in front of me.

I gave him a very clear, very hard “yes.” 

Because I was.

I was leaving him and I was taking my ferrets with me.

More so than the conversation we just had, the following 30 minutes of my life are the worst 30 minutes I’ve ever experienced. I highly doubt I’ll ever be able to remember those 30 minutes and feel at peace.

It was when the abuse turned from emotional to physical. As he fought me for my ferrets. My girls. 

My hands still hurt from where I grabbed their cage and my voice is still sore from yelling that he needed to let go.

I had my car keys in my pocket because of luck.

I had the kennel in my car because of forgetfulness. 

I grabbed all 5 of them in my arms and I ran.

I ran.

I’ve never moved so quickly with my heartbeat hammering in my ears and my chest so tight with fear and anxiety, moving completely on gut instinct above literally anything else. 

I got them into the kennel and I locked the car.

He could have the house. He could have the furniture. He could have the damage deposit and the subscriptions and the money that he owes me and my virginity that he stole and my broken beating fucking heart I don’t give a fucking shit about any of that useless garbage but he is not taking my girls. I brought them into this house because I wanted one fucking thing to keep me sane and moving and loved and I wasn’t leaving unless they were in the back of my car.

He lost his chance to say goodbye when he grabbed me.

He lost his chance to hold them one more time when he threatened to leave with them.

He lost his chance to a normal breakup when he stood by the door with rage in his eyes telling me that even though my parents were on their way to save me from the hell he trapped me in, he would not let them into his home to free me from the hold that he had so easily trapped me in.

But I stayed firm.

The keys were in my pocket.

I had my girls. 

He moved towards me and I was scared but he grabbed his car keys and his wallet and stormed out of the house.

“You’re a selfish bitch. Fuck you.”

That’s the last thing he said.

And I sobbed in the doorway of my front door until my throat was raw and I couldn’t breathe. I sobbed because of how long I had been trapped. Because of the lies he told me. Because of how many times he said he’d change and never did. Because of all of the signs I missed. Because of all of the excuses I gave. Because of all the fighting and the compromising and the unhappiness. I sobbed because I was so relieved but so fucking terrified about everything that this changes and everything that this puts to an end. I just sobbed.

I don’t know when my step dad showed up but I assume he found me in the doorway shaking with my knees to my chest and my heart broken on the floor.

He held me for longer than he ever has. I don’t know what I said to him. I think I told him about the ferrets but I probably just kept mumbling “they’re in the car they’re in the car the girls are in the car” hoping he’d understand. I think he did. I don’t know.

My mom and brother were there in her van moments later and we packed.

Everything we could fit between 3 cars we packed. We started with the important stuff: my computer, the ferret cage, my sewing machine. We sacrificed the stuff that I didn’t have room for: my cosplay gear, half of my clothes, my fish tank (which breaks my fucking heart all over again please just take care of my fish I told them I was so sorry when we left but I just couldn’t take them). 

It’s hard.

To watch the home you had just finished setting up be torn apart so quickly because you aren’t sure when he’s coming back to demand that you stay.

It’s hard.

But we did it.

My mom, my brother, my step dad, and me. We tore the home apart and I got my stuff. 

I sobbed the whole drive away from that house. My brother drove with me, which I will never stop being thankful for. I sobbed because I was scared, still am, that my ex was going to kill himself. I was worried that that’s why he left. My eyes were on the highway and my heart was being left in broken pieces along the side of the road with each kilometre we drove. 

And then I stopped crying.

About half of the way to my parent’s house.

Just.... stopped crying.

My brother and I talked about anime, one of our shared interests. He just finished watching SK8 with his wife and we were talking about our favourite parts, agreeing that Langa was best boy, making jokes about the silly bits and discussing our favourite scenes. Just talked with my brother about anime.

So I’m here now. In almost the same position I was in when I made a post like this last week, rethinking all of the reasons I had to leave. I’m at the kitchen table. I have a cup of tea that’s 3/4 full and completely cold because this post distracted me. I’ve been crying. A lot. My eyes are constantly puffy and red.

But about 30 minutes ago I went to walmart. 

Stupid thing to give you hope, I suppose, a trip to walmart. I needed to get a sheet for my new bed though and I didn’t want to put it off. 

A solo trip to walmart.

The same walmart that, exactly 1 week ago almost on the hour, I had been in with my ex (”ex” still feels odd to say). We had stopped by to get groceries after a couples counselling session. He was in a bad mood. We argued. In the car I apologized and he did not. 1 week ago I hadn’t realized everything wrong with us. 1 week ago I cried by the george t-shirts because he left me there in a rage after I said we needed to cross the store to get duct tape. 1 week ago I went to the mcdonalds in that walmart to get us burgers and the boy at the till was cute. 1 week ago I slipped into a 15 second daydream where I was with someone I found attractive. 1 week ago I felt guilty for the thought. 1 week ago I was just as brave as I was yesterday, but I didn’t know it yet.

I’m with my mom. I’m with my step dad. I’m with my ferrets.

I’m safe. I’m home. 

When I sat at the red light on the way home from walmart, I felt the relief my mom had told me about 5 days ago. Not the wave that she described, nothing that “washed over me” like she had told me it did when she left my dad; but just a spark. A tiny little glimmer of “this is what’s right”, “this is what’s good”, “this is what’s better”. 

My throat is still sore. My hands are still numb. And my heart still aches. But those pains go away eventually.

He goes away eventually.

#mun does mun things #tw: physical assault #tw: relationship abuse #tw: emotional abuse #tw: rape #tw: suicide #tw: anxiety

[op-peccatori]

Could you plz make headcanons of your fav baes? The headcanons would be about Mc being wasted and doing weird/crazy stuff. (Btw love your posts❤) P.s - My fav bois are Lucien and Victor

I wrote this in a hurry, and it’s...well, I hope you like it 😂 I personally go quiet when I’m drunk so I hope I was able to make this fun!

Mr Love Queen’s Choice Headcanons: The boys’ reaction to MC’s drunk antics!

Gavin:

“The cops are here, this party’s over!”

Jk. So Gavin probably called MC while she was out and, as soon as he realised she’s under the influence, told her he’ll be there to pick her up.

MC thought he’d call her before coming, but received no such call. Instead, she stepped out to get some air and lo and behold, he’s right there. Just waiting outside with endless patience.

MC doesn’t think. She just pounces, overwhelmed by joy. Gavin is literally so taken aback by her delighted reaction that he’s frozen for a whole minute while she blabbers away.

He doesn’t think flying is such a good idea, so you walk. MC keeps talking and talking, insists on holding hands, tries to get him to dance with her in the streets. Anyone who tries to give you the side-eye is treated to Gavin’s murder-look. If his girl wants to sing, she’s going to sing.

even if she seems to be trying to serenade him.

He does finally clamp a hand over her mouth when she says, “Arrest me, officer! I’ve been a bad, bad girl!”

Yeah, he’s just carrying her home. Does he mind MC’s constant kisses and remarks on his handsomeness? No, no he doesn’t.

Does he nearly drop her when she says she wants to have his babies? Yes, yes he does. He turns red and literally does not know what to say.

“Oh, but I guess we need to get married too!” MC pls ur gonna kill him

He’s tempted to play along, but she’s drunk. You can bet he’s going to be fantasising about their wedding for a whole month as if he hadn’t already been doing that

Kiro:

What do you mean Kiro’s not up on the bar dancing with her? Look closely, he’s the one twerking.

Some people do throw cash at them.

They usually party together!!!!

These two getting drunk together is so chaotic, RIP to whoever is with them. They get wild. Their usual thing includes dancing their hearts out and then getting whatever unhealthy food they can get their hands on.

They crack the lamest jokes and fall over laughing until they’re in tears. Okay but – Kiro may look like he’s absolutely wasted but a part of him is always alert. It doesn’t matter that he’s currently attempting to do ballet, he knows who’s watching them.

MC does the cheesiest and lamest dance moves she can think of and Kiro is right there with her! She wants to race? They’ll race. They like to go home and watch animated movies. Tangled is a personal favourite when they’re drunk. MC once declared Kiro to be Rapunzel and herself to be Flynn Rider.

Once insisted on wanting the same hair colour as Helios. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kiro knew this was a terrible idea.

Honestly? Not a bad look.

Sometimes...they prank call people 😔 Mostly Savin.

Lucien:

A work party! One of those Miracle Finder parties Lucien’s always invited to, except he declines this time. MC’s a bit disheartened, but hey – it’s not gonna stop her from having fun!

SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! X 5

She starts out dancing with Kiki and Willow, until eventually she’s on her own (in the crowd), and there are numerous eyes watching, waiting for their chance.

And then she feels hands around her waist, tugging her closer to their owner. Just when she begins to tense, the subtle cologne hits her. She tilts her head back and there he is, smiling down at her.

Only to pause in surprise when she leaps at him, kissing him squarely on the mouth. He wasn’t expecting that. At all.

They dance. People will either stare and drool or look away blushing. As much as Lucien enjoys it, with how delightfully unrestrained MC is being, he does put a stop to it eventually. He doesn’t like sharing her with others :)

Promises your coworkers he’ll keep her safe. The drive home is quite eventful. She keeps saying the dumbest stuff. And oh, the pick up lines. RIP MC.

“If I were a virus, I’d infect you with my love.” too soon

“If I could make my own periodic table...then you would be number one.” *finger guns*

Lucien cringes so hard he can’t help but laugh. Especially when she looks so proud and tells him she’s been waiting for an opportunity to use them (MC ur not supposed to tell him that!). He loves how snuggly she is while he tries to tuck her in.

Victor:

Oh boy.

MC was a little preoccupied with a game of dare and dare, and therefore unable to answer her phone. Victor, who was calling because he ‘happens to be in the area’ and wanted to know if she needs a ride home, panics and drops by anyway.

He finds her right away, because she’s on the stage. Singing Hit me baby one more time by the legendary Britney Spears. What? No, of course Victor’s not familiar with that song!

He experiences a series of emotions as he stands among the people cheering her on. He’s bewildered. And a little impressed at the high notes. MC’s definitely no professional but...ugh, this is adorable. He needs to film this.

Also, is that Goldman at the front of the crowd?? How come he was invited??

As she staggers off the stage, still laughing wildly, she trips on the stairs – right into Victor’s arms. She’s only half-surprised as she looks up at him. And fuelled by liquid courage, blurts out the first thing on her mind.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

He takes her home, hovering in fear that she’ll throw up, makes her eat something light. MC insists on a bedtime story as he tucks her in...insists on telling one. Victor sits there for god knows how long, listening to her tell a story that he suspects is a mix of game of thrones and shrek. She’s near incoherent as she trails off, slowly falling asleep, still holding his hand.

he’s so in love. he’s never going to let her forget this. MC’s new nickname is Britney

#mlqc headcanons #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mr love queen’s choice #mr love: queen's choice

[kkglinka]

This is, as I expected, the worst holiday parcel volume I have ever experienced at the post office, in 20 years. We started doing morning parcel runs back in November, before Black Friday. That is unprecedented. We've had holiday parcel volume for months, even though many families have greatly reduced income, or have moved in with extended family because they lost homes.

I get it, american capitalism conditions us to buy material goods to alleviate the misery of being overworked, under-compensated and exhausted. I really do, but it doesn't change the fact that many people are buying junk they don't need, on top of regular staples for every day living. It doesn't change the sweatshop conditions packers endure, or the hideous parcel volume we're facing on our end.

Worse, so many mail handlers at our internal mail facility (IMF) have covid, or are in quarantine due to suspected infection, that first class mail is heavily backed up, reaching us in drips and drabs. One day we'll have virtually nothing except what came in the prior evening, other days it all shows up at once.

I'm sure many carriers are sick too, but the exhaustion and fatigue, racing heart are indistinguishable from being overworked at 10-14hrs a day, on 6hrs of sleep, the low level panic attacks and chronic anxiety of trying to stay on task when humans can only do so for 6hrs a day. We're effectively driving drunk because fatigue is more impairing than antihistamines or alcohol.

Because the GOP controlled congress controls the post office in turn and they've been waging a war of hiring attrition for over a decade now. The population and number of delivery points increases steadily, which means we ought to have more routes and more carriers, not fewer. Upper management conceals mail to manipulate volume numbers during inspections, falsifying the sheer amount of time cost in parcel deliveries. Shorting us of time. Shorting us of routes and carriers.

I only take comfort in knowing that the private couriers are equally overloaded, their infrastructure a fraction of ours, even amazon who contracts out a delivery fleet. Which forces those companies to absorb all the maintenance, insurance and damage cost.

I'm off on a tangent. Half my coworkers are sick and I'm tired. Is that shit everyone is buying really worth it? Because I don't think so.

#kkglinka goes postal #the only good news #is that I just won a bid #for a recently vacated #very nice route

[maverickmoore]

Welcome to Fairvale

Task 03 - the interview

Maverick couldn’t stop his leg shaking as he sat in the nicely decorated office. It reminded him painfully of his mother’s home office back in Seattle. Comfortable looking chairs, bookshelves packed with books that he could never imagine anybody actually reading, a desk with papers and various knick knacks on it, and what for some reason surprised him the most, lit candles on the table in front of him. The smell of lavender and cotton filled the room, giving him what felt like a false sense of normalcy. Behind him, if he turned around the window overlooked the town that he hadn’t seen yet, but had been told about by practically everyone that talked to him when he was getting checked out by some medical person.

What felt like ages of waiting later, the council member he had been introduced to earlier came back into the room with another person who carried a legal pad and what looked like a tape recorder. The council member introduced the town’s recorder, not that Maverick cared. Something sat weird to him about this entire situation. It had been almost a full day since their small group had run into the hunting party that claimed to have a safe town. Almost a full day of being monitored by people he didn’t know, poked and prodded by medical staff, and strangely enough fed real food. Nothing old or canned. Fresh vegetables and real meat, even a thick slice of brown bread. Nothing like the food his group had scavenged for over the last year.

“We have some questions to ask you, Maverick. Totally normal protocol for all newcomers to our town.” The council member explained as she got seated in the chair across from him. The recorder sat in the other chair, setting the tape recorder on the table. “Answer as honestly as you can. Don’t worry about right answers. We just want to get to know you.”

Maverick nodded, his leg still shaking with anxiety. The blinking light of the tape recorder bothered him for some reason. It wasn’t something he was used to. It kept catching his attention, but not in a good way. It was distracting.

Where are you from?

That seemed like such a strange question to ask. Did it really matter how he came from? “Seattle.”

How would you describe yourself as a person?

“I don’t know how to answer that. Resilient, I guess.” Resilient, a word that a lot of adults used to describe him growing up. His social worker, his adoptive parents, every therapist he had ever been to, so many teachers. They all said it like it was a good thing.

How many walkers have you killed?

“Walkers?” The way she said the word made it seem almost as if that was the official name for the undead.

That’s what we call the infected who have turned. Walkers. Have you killed any?

He always called them freaks. The news reporters in Seattle referred to them as the infected. One of the groups his group had run into called them eaters. “I never kept count...a lot.”

How many people have you killed? Why did you kill them?

At that question Maverick felt his blood run cold. This wasn’t a question he was expecting and sure as shit one he didn’t want to answer. Staring down at his bruised and dirty fingers, he picked at his cuticles until they started bleeding. His mind raced with the memory as it washed over him. He could almost smell the dirt and dust of the warehouse they had been stuck in, hear the moans of the freaks, and the static of the bullhorn the leader of the other group used to threaten them.

Maverick? Do you need me to repeat the question?

He jumped, shaking his head to get rid of the memory. “No. Uhm...five or six. It was a kill or be killed situation. We had supplies they wanted and they made it clear they were going to take it if we didn’t give it over. So...bang, bang...there was one mercy killing. He was a teenager in our group and he’d been bitten. It’s hard to say if the fever took him or the bullet to his brain.”

Are you searching for anybody?

Names swirled around in his head. Sam and Bash, his older brothers that he wasn’t sure if they ever made it out of Seattle. Trevor, Silas, and Wyatt, his three best friends he hadn’t heard from since the virus started spreading. August his possible ex-girlfriend he lost contact with when Seattle fell to the freaks. Even people the members of his group were looking for. Sierra’s sisters, Courtney and Selena. Mikey’s little brother Eddie. Saying any of their names would be holding on to hope that they were still alive, something he had given up on long ago. “No.”

Why are you here?

“Your scouting party brought us here.”

Okay...Would you consider yourself a team player?

Maverick tried not to make a face. That same question had been asked in every job interview he had ever had and all those jobs had been shit. In those situations, it always seems to insinuate that the work was shit and so were the coworkers but you were expected to deal with it no matter what. Two and a half years working at Walmart was proof of that. “I played four years of lacrosse on a team just fine.”

Are you the type of person to make the best out of a bad situation?

In another life, he would have answered honestly. Telling some stories about his time in foster care and how his entire life was basically one bad situation that he learned to live through. But he wasn’t applying for college or a job he desperately needed. He was sitting in an office of people he didn’t know, trying to convince them to let him stay in a town he wasn’t sure he wanted to stay in. “I haven’t killed myself yet, so I’d say so.”

What skills do you have that would benefit the community and your fellow survivors?

These questions were getting tedious and Maverick was getting annoyed. His cuticles were starting to sting there he had picked off layers of skin thanks to his anxiety. “I’m smart enough not to have died yet and I managed to keep my group safe for a long time.”

Can you handle yourself in a crisis?

“Obviously. I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.”

What are you willing to do to protect the people and things you care about?

“Didn’t I just answer this when you asked if I killed people?” He really didn’t want to get into the details of what he’d do and what he had done to protect those he loved. Even before the apocalypse he was painfully protective of those he loved. No stranger to fights to stand up for his friends. Long nights spent on the phone or sitting in someone’s room while they cried. Going hungry so the kids in his convoy could go to bed with full bellies. Killing another group of scavengers just so they could bring what they needed back to their own group. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for those he loved. Those details seemed far too personally to share.

Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions our medical staff should be informed about?

Just a cocktail of mental illness and trauma. But once again, that information was personal. “No.”

#para: self #catastrophiccontent #catastrophictask

[maryellencarter]

Queer asks copied from @corelliaxdreaming :

1. Is your family accepting? -- Hah. No. My bio-family is not accepting at allllll, so I went and got myself an internet family instead.

2. What is your sexuality? -- Weird. The strongest part of my identity is Aromantic. I seem to be pretty much allosexual, maybe bisexual; most of the people I find myself attracted to are men within a fairly specific category (physically fit to muscular, at least as competent as me, kind, and often a bit dorky; I also have a weakness for clever hands and sexy voices), but the women I'm attracted to cover a much broader range of appearances and personalities. I fall pretty much in the category of the one Tumblr post that said something like "Being bisexual means you're attracted to three specific fictional men and all women", even though the attraction to men... feels... more attraction-y? I'm still really struggling to figure that difference out.

3. What is your gender identity? -- Sort of genderfluid, sort of genderqueer, sort of maybe agnostically agender? I used to ID really strongly as a trans man, and then after a year or so of being accepted, I found myself turning female. I bounced back and forth for a lot of years but seem to have settled down at a point where it doesn't especially matter to me most of the time. Which is a lot more comfortable than hurtling around to different points on the gender spectrum without warning.

4. Favorite color? -- Blue. Royal blue, mostly. That really deep sky blue you get sometimes during the fall. A bunch of really bright colors.

5. When did you find out your sexuality? -- Oh, it's been a process. For a long time I identified as asexual. It took me years to figure out I was actually romance-repulsed, and more years to figure out I had any attraction to women. I'm still sort of confused by that part. Like I mostly just want to look at them being pretty, but I also definitely want to look at their boobs? Maybe touch some boobs? I'm honestly not sure.

6. What do you wish you could tell your past self? -- Oh lord. Sexuality and gender wise? I'm not sure young me could have been hurried along the process of self discovery. I'd really like to tell her she was being abused and gaslighted and that she needed to take her great-aunt's offer of a free ride and major in geology *before* she broke her health, and maybe also tell her she needed a CPAP machine, but she might just think I was a temptation of the Devil. Also I'm not sure if the CPAP machine was an option before Obamacare. Or the psych meds she needed, either.

7. Have you changed labels since realizing you were queer? -- Oh yeah, all over the place. Asexual, trans, genderqueer, biromantic (for about a week), aromantic allosexual bisexual maybe pansexual... some people apparently even count PCOS as an intersex condition, since I have a lot more beard and chest hair than is normal for perisex women, to the point that I always have to explain to a new doctor that I'm not in fact on testosterone, my body just does that. I've never quite felt right claiming the intersex label, but I've tried on a lot of others. I think my header may still say "queer on every conceivable axis".

8. How was your day? -- Um. I got stuck wandering Cracked.com for most of it. Then I drove up to check out my pulmonologist's office, which doesn't *say* they're closed for the pandemic, so I guess I'll go up again on Thursday and poke them about whether my appointment still exists. Then I went and wandered around a very large very dead mall on that side of town, hatched a bunch of pokeymans, then came home and ate some split pea soup.

9. Do you have any queer friends irl? -- I don't have *any* friends irl, and it's kicking my ass. I have like one or two coworkers I could hypothetically hang out with outside of work if we weren't so all-fired busy. But if we're talking "friends I have seen irl at some point", I'm pretty sure they're all queer. They might also be limited to @tigerkat24 and one other person who doesn't use Tumblr, I'm not sure.

10. What's your favorite hobby? -- Probably knitting. It's soft and squishy and brightly colored, and it can be as brainless or as complex as I could possibly want.

11. Who's the best queer icon in your opinion? -- I honestly don't have an opinion. I've always been too far outside the community to figure out whomst the options were.

12. Which pride flags do you like the most design / color wise? -- Pansexual. I'd probably have a lot more pride merch if I IDed as pan, but it just never feels like it fits quite right.

13. Do you wish you could change any pride flags? -- YES. The aro flag is the exact same colors as the agender flag, just in a different arrangement, and it pisses me off because you can't distinguish aro merch from agender merch unless it's specifically flag shaped / has the stripe arrangement. I liked the yellow/orange/green/black aro flag, I found it much more cheerful, but apparently it was too similar to something Rastafarian. But you can't find alloaro flag merch at *all*, even though it has the green and yellow, which I like.

14. Are you openly out? -- Can't really help it, since I legally changed my name to a distinctively masculine one back in the day, and I do not remotely pass as male. So anybody who both sees or hears me and knows my legal name, knows there's *something* queerish going on. (I go by a gender neutral name these days, but haven't yet been arsed to change it legally because it's an entire hassle and a half.)

15. Are you comfortable with yourself? -- Mneh. I'm not *un*comfortable with my gender and sexuality, particularly. Sometimes I wish I could pass as male, sometimes I wish I could have cute cleavage. Sometimes I tie myself in knots with my feelings about women.

16. Do you experience dysphoria? -- I used to, very strongly. It hasn't been very aggressive lately.

17. Bottom, top, or verse? -- *shrugs* I guess I'd be a switch or "verse" because I'm down for whatever.

18. Are you femme, butch, or neither? -- I swing wildly between wishing to present Extremely Butch in a lumberjack style, which is impractical in the Southwest, or wishing to present Extremely Femme but being unable to do so, and tying myself in knots over the inability. (I can't wear femmey shoes due to my stupid feet, I can't have pierced ears as they get infected and the one pair of nice lightweight handcrafted earrings I paid $50 for is gone with the rest of my shit, I'm too lorge to find any nice dresses or be able to like try on prom dresses and stuff, I have a tendency to break jewelry as I'm extremely rough on my possessions... etc.) In practice my gender presentation is Fat Slob. :P

19. Do you bind? -- Not technically, but I do wear cheap sports bras which tend to flatten rather than lift or shape.

20. Do you shave? -- Only by necessity. I shave my face when I remember, because my beard looks extremely douchey and rather like pubes. Occasionally I shave my cleavage if I'm trying to present femmey. I pretty much never shave anything else unless the hair is getting Smelly.

21. If you could date anyone you wanted, who would it be? -- Um. Good question. The thing is, I am fairly strongly romance-repulsed, but I do want and enjoy queerplatonic relationships, so I would draw a distinction here between "dating" someone and being "in a relationship" with them.

22. Are you in a relationship? -- Yes, in fact.

23. Describe your partner. -- @camshaft22 . Um. She's very much the Hobbie to my Wes. She's very snarky and dies a lot and I love her very much.

24. Have you ever dated anyone of the same gender? -- Given that we're both genderfluid, I would say I'm in a relationship with someone of the same gender, yes.

25. Dated anyone of another gender? -- I've never dated or been in a relationship with anyone else, so I guess the answer is no.

26. Tell me a random fact about yourself! -- I always use this one, but I once lived in four different states (mostly non-contiguous) within a calendar month.

27. Do you own any pride flags / merch? -- No. I used to have a whole-ass collection that I added to every Pride, and then I lost all my damn shit and haven't had the heart to start looking again. Well, I have a rainbow necklace Kat sent me which is pretty nice. Can't wear it till my damn sunburn heals, though. :P

28. Have you ever been to a pride parade? -- Yes, when I lived in Bisbee. They have quite an excellent Pride which draws people from as far off as Denver.

29. Any advice to someone who isn't out or is exploring themselves? -- Take your time. It's okay if things change. You don't have to solve yourself all at once. It's more important to find people who will accept whoever you turn out to be.

30. Pineapple on pizza? -- I've honestly never tried it. Part of me feels like I should, in order to develop an opinion, and part of me feels like I'm just as happy being outside of that particular debate.

[lalainajanes]

The Kindness of Strangers

It takes a good half hour for Caroline to realize that she’s been ditched.

In her defense, she’s not exactly at her best.

She can’t stop coughing, her chest hurts. She’s freezing, still wearing her coat and scarf even though she’s been indoors, waiting for her turn to see a doctor, for three hours. Caroline will admit that she’s never been an ideal patient. She hates every single part of being sick – gross fluids leaking from her body, disruptions to her carefully plotted schedule. She loathes weakness, isn’t used to having to count on other people. She’s lived in Chicago for just under a year, doesn’t have many people to rely on.

She’d been self medicating for days, guzzling DayQuil and NyQuil in turn, googling home remedies and forcing down cup after cup of chamomile tea with honey.

The medicine hadn’t helped, nor had the tea and the best medical advice Pinterest had to offer.

Hence why she’s sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair, in a packed waiting room, braving screaming children, bloody wounds, and even more airborne germs.

She’s staring dumbly down at her phone, at the picture that’s just popped up on her Instagram feed. Posted just a few seconds ago it features her boyfriend at the gym, his face strained as he lifts a kettlebell. She hadn’t bothered to read the caption, knows it’s some nonsense about reps or mile times that she’s only ever feigned interest in for the sake of politeness.

He’d been yammering on about his workout plans since he’d picked her up. Caroline had been humming in acknowledgement at regular intervals but she’d figured it didn’t need to be explicitly stated that leaving her in a hospital waiting room was so not cool.

Apparently she’d been mistaken.

“Please tell me he’s some sort of useless relation. A cousin you’re only nice to because your mum insists.”

Caroline’s head swivels to the speaker, a touch surprised by the accent. The guy next to her is looking down at her phone, his expression disbelieving.  She’d nodded tiredly at him when she’d sat down, some part of her brain cataloguing a general impression of an attractive man in her age range. She hadn’t been in the mood for conversation and he hadn’t attempted one either. She’d felt him shifting next to her, restless, and probably in pain judging by the impressive rainbow of purple-black bruises covering his bare left foot.

She should probably snap at him, demand he mind his own business but, if her own freaking boyfriend can’t be bothered to skip a workout when she’s in the emergency room, it’s probably a good idea to expand her social circle.

“My mom has even less time for useless relations than I do.”

“She sounds like a smart woman. Does she like your boyfriend?”

Her mother had yet to be introduced. Caroline had planned a trip to Mystic Falls for a long weekend but Stefan’s brother had called last minute with one of his bimonthly crisis’s so Caroline had made the trip solo. In hindsight, maybe she should have read more into the lack of effort. “Very smart. And handy with all manner of firearms.”

A warning, just in case he happens to be a serial killer.

His brows rise, a hint of amusement beginning to curl his lips. Caroline’s forced turn away and bury her face in the crook of her elbow as she’s wracked with coughs. She slumps back when she’s done, needs a moment to catch her breath.

When she peels her eye open her neighbor’s expression has softened with concern. “I’m Klaus,” he offers.

“Caroline.”

His arm nudges hers on the armrest between their chairs, a weird approximation of a handshake that Caroline returns. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”

She’s naturally nosy, and he’s given her an opening, “What happened to your foot?”

“Stupid accident. I was helping my brother move, he got distracted. A rather heavy sofa came down on my foot.”

Caroline winces in sympathy, leans forward to peer around Klaus. She hadn’t noticed him talking to another guy but, as she hadn’t really noticed Stefan taking his leave while in her fog of misery, that doesn’t mean much. “Is he here?”

Klaus makes a low noise of denial, “God, no. Kol can only sit still as long as the average five year old. I’ll be storing this incident away for later, when I need a bigger favor than a ride to the hospital.”

Caroline doesn’t know much about healthy sibling relationships but she can admire a strategic mind.

“How long have you been waiting for?”

“I got here about an hour before you did.”

“Ugh,” Caroline grumbles, crossing her arms and yanking her sleeves down over her hands, “maybe I should have just made another pharmacy run and gone back to bed.”

Klaus leans forward, pulls a jacket and a scarf out from under his seat. He shakes them out, offering them to her. “Here. I find it quite warm in here but you’re obviously suffering.”

She shakes her head, “No, I wouldn’t want to infect you with whatever I have.”

“Did you just fall ill?”

“It’s been a few days.”

Kat, her boss, had bullied her out of the office when Caroline had nearly passed out after standing up after a meeting. Caroline had tried to protest but Katherine Pierce was excellent at getting her own way. Caroline had been in the back of a town car, under a blanket, with a driver who’d had strict instructions to only stop at a restaurant for the giant takeaway container of chicken noodle soup Kat had ordered.

She’d texted Stefan when she’d gotten home, had gotten sympathy followed by an apology. He’d told her to rest, that he hoped she’d feel better soon, but he’d claimed that he couldn’t rick catching anything, not when he’s training for a marathon.

Alone on her couch, trying to muster the energy to get herself to her bedroom so she could change out of her pencil skirt and blouse, Caroline had told herself that she shouldn’t be resentful. That ambition was sexy, goals were admirable, and she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

That it wasn’t at all annoying that, just a month ago, she’d spent a whole weekend refilling a hot water bottle for Stefan every half hour after he’d pulled a muscle. He hadn’t asked her, she’d offered, and relationships shouldn’t have scorecards.

Maybe they had different love languages. That didn’t mean they were incompatible.

Reciting the bullet points from Cosmo relationship articles hadn’t stopped Caroline from feeling resentful.

Klaus shakes his jacket gently, drawing her attention back to him, “I doubt you’re contagious at this point.”

The jacket looks to be wool, heavy and lined and probably super cozy. She only hesitates for another second before taking it, draping it over herself like a blanket and looping the scarf around her neck.

She manages to avoid obviously tucking her nose into the fabric, to better appreciate the light touch of the very nice cologne Klaus must use.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “You can tell your significant other that you’ve earned a pile of gentleman points.”

It’s not the most subtle fishing Caroline’s ever done but she’ll just have to blame that on the large doses of over the counter meds still swimming through her system.

Klaus doesn’t seem to mind, his smile widening as he leans back in his seat. He rests his head back against the wall and sprawls a bit, closer to her than he’d been before. “There’s no significant other.”

She probably shouldn’t consider that good news but she totally does.

“And you?” Klaus asks, “how long have you and the… fitness afficianado been an item?”

Caroline suspects the moniker he’s settled on is far more polite than he’d like to be.

“About six months. But we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“Let me guess, you were high school sweethearts who reunited years later.”

His distaste is obvious and Caroline laughs softly. “Um, no. Not even close. I had a ginormous crush on him but he was really into my best friend.”

Who’d waffled between being into Stefan right back and being into Stefan’s older brother.

Klaus sighs, “So he’s got an appalling lack of taste in addition to his other less than stellar qualities.”

It’s instinct to jump to Stefan’s defense. “He’s really a great guy.”

“I’m sure.”

“He’s training for a marathon. It’s a lot of work.”

“Is this marathon tomorrow?” Klaus asks pointedly. “Because otherwise I don’t understand why he couldn’t take a day off when you’re so ill you can barely walk.”

Caroline deflates, presses her lips together as she swallows the argument she’d been about to make. She’s had plenty of practice lately. When she’d first moved, and Stefan had shot her a message offering to take her out for a drink to celebrate her new job, it had been easy to fall back in with her old friends. He’d been familiar, Elena and Damon too, and she’d been busy with her new job and settling into a new apartment. It had been easier to relearn how to be around them than to meet new people.

She’s a people person though, has started getting closer to a few coworkers, and Enzo, Rebekah and Kat all have certain opinions about Stefan that Klaus is mirroring.

“Perhaps this is none of my business,” Klaus says, after her silence has stretched on. He’s watching her carefully, like he’s wondering if he’s pushed too far.

“It’s really not.”

“Lost those gentleman points, did I?” he jokes.

Caroline laughs, willing to roll with his attempt to lighten the mood. “Maybe not all of them.” Because she is warmer now, with his layers piled on top of hers. “Where are you from, anyway?”

He’d given her the perfect opening to pry and Caroline’s not going to waste the opportunity.

All in the interest of broadening her social circle of course.

A month later, after a breakup, rearranging her entire apartment (three times), she’s decided to make more of an effort to turn her coworkers into real friends.

Rebekah’s throwing herself a birthday party. There’s even a dress code. Enzo informs Caroline that all of Rebekah’s brothers are ridiculously hot, so clearly she needs a great new dress. And heels. And some lingerie and a new lipstick because, why not?

She sees Klaus before he sees her. He’s planted on a loveseat in the living room, his casted foot resting on an ottoman. He’s flitted through her thoughts more than once since they’d met and Caroline had regretted not getting his contact info. Or at least a last name.

Klaus might be a unique name but her attempts at social media stalking had all failed.

Caroline grabs a flute of champagne (seriously, Rebekah knew how to throw a party) and hugs the perimeter of the room. She approaches Klaus from behind, sitting down on the arm next to him and chirping, “Well, fancy meeting you here.”

His eyes snap up, widening when he recognizes her. “Caroline,” he says, something like wonder coloring the tone.

It’s enough to confirm that she’d not the only one who’s spent way too much time thinking about those few hours they’d spent together.

“Glad you remember me,” she teases. “How do you know Rebekah?”

“She’s my sister.” He shifts over, threading his finger through hers to pull her down next to him. Caroline has no objections, not even when he’s pressed along her side, leaving enough room for another person beside him. “And you?”

“We work together.”

“Small world,” Klaus murmurs, very pleased about it.

Caroline can relate.

She nods down to his foot, “What was the verdict?”

He groans, “At least six weeks in the cast. I’m right sick of it. I’ve barely left my place since it happened because I can’t drive and the simplest things are infinitely more annoying.”

“I’m glad you made it out tonight.”

He’s still got her hand clasped in his but his free arm comes up, resting loosely around her shoulders. He speaks more softly and Caroline leans closer to make sure she can hear. “Likewise, love. I’ll never complain about Rebekah being a shameless nag again.”

Somehow, Caroline doubts that.

She spends the duration of the party at Klaus’ side but she meets a whole pile of new people. There’s Kol, the brother whose couch had maimed Klaus’ foot, Elijah, who is a little scary, with his appraising eyes and aggressively perfect manners. She gets some tips about thrifting vintage clothes from Gia, a classical violinist, and when she chats with Marcel he says he hopes he sees her around, promises that he knows plenty of embarrassing stories about Klaus.

She’s kind of kicking herself for falling back into old habits when she’d first moved to Chicago. Clearly, she’s pretty kickass at making friends.

She leaves with Klaus’ number in her phone and plans for dinner the next night.

Sunday brunch plans follow, with Rebekah, where there are bottomless mimosas and vague threats.

It’s easily the best weekend she’s had since moving.

Though not for long.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #i probably should have saved this for auweek #but like all writer's i am needy yo #inspired by an aita post #where the answer is usually YES YOU ARE THE ASSHOLE

[ltleflrt]

YAY!!! I'm so greedy for your writing... Coworker & Immortal AU, Please and thank you

I’m kinda stretching the definition of coworkers here, but in the eyes of an Immortal, human definitions are probably fleeting anyway :)

Warning for people dying.

Little fingers press against Dean’s palm, and he gives them a reassuring squeeze as he watches the heartbreak spread across the faces of the nurses as the doctor calls time of death.  The soft crying of the witnesses turns into broken sobs that make even Dean’s ancient heart squeeze painfully.  

“Will they be sad for a long time?”

Dean looks down at the spirit of the child gripping his hand.  In the last days of her life, her body was thin, and ravaged by sores.  In death, she’s beautiful, practically glowing with the the power of a young soul that hasn’t dimmed from a long lifetime of use.  “They might,” he answers honestly.  “But not forever.”

“I wish I could tell them I feel better now.”  Her large brown eyes swim with metaphysical tears as she watches her parents mourn.

He smiles at her.  What a gentle heart.  Many children make wishes when they pass from the world of the living.  Sometimes they don’t want to leave, and they wish to go back.  Some wish they could see a beloved pet again, or say goodbye to their friends.  A large number of them wish they could take their toys with them, which always delights Dean.

If he had the power to grant wishes, the ones made on behalf of their lost loved ones are the wishes he’d be most eager to fulfill.  Alas, he’s the embodiment of Death, not a Djinn.  “I wish you could too.”

She heaves a sigh that expresses a knowledge only gained by death.  “Thanks.” She gives him a watery smile.  “So what’s next?”

“You have a journey to make,” Dean says.

“Like Dora the Explorer?”

He laughs at her sudden excitement.  “Yes, just like that.”

She bounces on her toes when he introduces her to the Reaper assigned to lead her to her next destination.  Only once does she look back, waving goodbye to him and to her parents who have yet to come to terms with the sudden termination of her short life.  Then she fades away, her spirit absorbed into the larger fabric of the Universe.

“I’d feel more sorry for them if they weren’t anti-vaxxers,” Sam says from nearby.  “How many of the other kids here do you think might be dying because their daughter was patient zero at her school?”

“All of them,” Dean answers.  He spares a glance for the mourning parents, and grimaces.  Crowley’s anti-vax movement has been very effective.  

He always does his best work using misinformation rather than spreading actual plagues.  Even the Black Death became the massive killing machine that it did because he’d convinced people that cats were The Devil’s creatures.  So many cats were wiped out, they could no longer keep up with the plague carrying rats infesting human cities.  Crowley was quite proud of that one.

That many falling to him at once was overwhelming.  He and his reapers had been overworked, and he’d been pretty pissed about it.  Especially since each death had been so intensely miserable.  Dean is neutral to death because everyone succumbs to it eventually, but that doesn’t mean he condones such cruel methods.  

Which means it’s time to intervene.  “Crowley.”  He feels the other horseman’s presence fill the hospital before it condenses down into the form of a small man in a tailored suit.  

“You called?” Crowley asks in his crisp British accent.  It’s an affect; Crowley has existed since before English started stealing words from other languages, and long before the most ancient forms of verbal communication.

“You’ve made your mark here,” Dean says.  “It’s time to lift your touch from this town.”

Crowley scoffs.  “Only 9 have been infected.  I’ve barely started--”

“It’s enough,” Dean commands sharply.  “The Fates have other plans for these people, and you’ve already interfered with their work enough.”

“Fine,” Crowley drawls, clearly unhappy with the order but unwilling to go against one of the few beings that has the power to demote him from demi-god to corpse.  “I’ve got some mosquito populations to check on.” He smiles tightly. “Can’t let all the rainforest loggers get off without a touch of Malaria.”

He’s not asking for permission, but Dean tips his head in acknowledgement anyway.  It isn’t his goal to anger the spirit of Pestilence, only to maintain a balance.  “I’ll send some Reapers with you.”

That perks Crowley up, because it means that his victims won’t survive the disease.  “Splendid.  See you around, Boss.” He nods to the gaunt shadow at Dean’s elbow.  “You too, Sam.”

He disappears before either of them can respond.  

“He’s such a bag of dicks,” Sam sighs.  

“No shit,” Dean agrees.  “Good at this job though.”

Sam makes a noncommittal sound.  His eyes follow the spirits being led to their next destination by Dean’s reapers.  

A tug behind Dean’s sternum pulls his attention across the country.  His lover rarely summons him so urgently, so Dean sets aside his current plans to see what Castiel needs.  “I’m needed elsewhere,” he says out loud, sending the message to all the local Reapers.

“Dean,” Sam says softly.  “Please.  You summoned me here for a reason.”

“I did.  I’m sorry I forgot.” Dean grimaces and rubs a hand over Sam’s shoulder.  “There’s a janitor downstairs.  He’s been sneaking into patients rooms that he has no business in.”

Sam’s eyes darken with greed.  “A damaged soul?”

“Let’s just say that he’s worse for children than measles,” Dean says.  “He’s scheduled to slip and crack his head open in a few hours.  I’ve instructed my Reapers to leave him to you.”

“I appreciate it.”

Dean pats him again, and hopes the touch conveys how proud his of Sam’s current restraint.  He knows how difficult it is for him, being the only horseman who suffers when he doesn’t use his powers.  An eternity of addiction and starvation is a punishment he doesn’t deserve, and Dean would shoulder that pain for him if it were within his powers.  But he can only settle for helping Sam maintain his balance, by making sure he feeds often enough that he stays strong enough to keep his powers reined in.

The love and gratitude in his brother’s eyes tells him that Sam knows.  It’s enough for now.

They say their goodbyes and Dean spreads the great shadow of his wings.  In the scope of the universe Earth is miniscule and it takes barely half a flap to reach his destination.  He stretches them wide before folding them back into his essence, and looks around.  

The Oval Office is dark, the current president not the type to stay up late worrying about matters of state.  But there is still a figure slumped in the chair behind the huge desk.  A smile tugs at the corners of Dean’s mouth when his eyes fall on his lover.  “I thought you’d given up stealing thrones.”

Castiel huffs a soft laugh.  “I’ve been given more thrones than I stole.”

“Hmm, my mistake.” Dean walks around the desk, and when Castiel swivels the chair to face him, he straddles his thighs and anchors himself in place with arms wrapped around Castiel’s shoulders.

Their lips meet in a kiss that is mostly greeting, with a tiny lick of heat.  Even after eons, the passion driving their relationship has hardly dimmed.  But Dean can sense that Castiel needs him for more than a quick fuck over the desk.  There’s a different need emanating from his skin.

Dean tilts his head until their foreheads bump.  “What’s wrong, Cas?”

Castiel’s sigh warms the space between them.  “I’m finding it very difficult to maintain the balance.  Between the rise of despots with a hunger for nuclear weapons, and dictators draping themselves in the flag of democracy whipping up their most frenzied followers into violence, I find myself very busy for how little actual battle these humans participate in.”

“I’ve noticed.” Dean doesn’t offer platitudes or advice.  War is Castiel’s domain, not his.  And often, Castiel just needs a sympathetic ear, which Dean is qualified to provide.

“I miss the Cold War,” Castiel grumbles.

Dean laughs.  “Bullshit.  You were tearing your hair out trying to get someone to push the big button.”

Castiel’s icy glare could drop a human on the spot, dead of heart failure.  Dean just thinks it’s adorable.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  Wiping out all of humanity would render me obsolete.”

“You still wanted to see it happen though,” Dean counters with a grin.

“I’ve seen civilizations wiped out by supernovae.”

“But that was my work.” Dean wiggles in Castiel’s lap. “It’s not the same.”

Castiel huffs his annoyance and wraps his arms tightly around Dean’s hips, holding him still.  He presses his face into Dean’s chest.  “Please don’t mock me.”

Dean sobers, and runs fingers through Castiel’s hair.  Sometimes he can pull Castiel out of his existential funks with a little teasing, but this is apparently not one of those times.  “Talk to me, Cas.”

“Maybe I am just God’s Hammer.” His voice is muffled by Dean’s shirt.  “And this battle against my baser nature has only one inevitable end.”

“You wouldn’t have these doubts if that were true.” Dean refrains from pointing out that these internal ‘battles’ are part of his nature as a god of War.  It’s a lesson Castiel will eventually learn on his own.  As the youngest of the horsemen he still has a long life of learning ahead of him.    

Castiel hums and nuzzles closer.  “Tell me of your doubts.”

“I set my Reapers on a hospital full of kids with measles today,” Dean says.  “And I’m not seeing that trend stopping any time soon.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s the nature of the job.”

“Still.” Castiel lifts his head and looks up at Dean with kindness and understanding.  “I know you don’t enjoy when your touch lands on children.”

He doesn’t enjoy any aspect of his job.  Okay, maybe he enjoys feeding the souls of the truly terrible to his little brother sometimes.  But being the instrument of entropy in the universe isn’t exactly fun, even if he knows that there’s no other way it can function.

“Yeah,” he says.  “It always sucks.  But none of our jobs are exactly easy.”

“Crowley seems to enjoy himself.”

“He’s a bag of dicks.”

Castiel laughs and pushes his face against Dean’s chest.  “I wonder if this is what a mid life crisis feels like.”

He’s nowhere near the midpoint of his life, but Dean can’t--won’t--tell him that.  “Is that what’s going on?”

“Well I’m very old,” Castiel says dryly.  “I believe I’m entitled.”

“Pfft.” Dean flicks a finger against the collar of Castiel’s current favorite outfit.  “You’re just a baby in a trench coat.”

“I watched the first fish crawl from the ocean, Dean.”

“I’m literally older than dirt,” Dean counters.  “And molecules.”

Castiel’s essense brightens, and Dean knows that he’s finally broken through the shell of his bad mood.  “Dirty old man.”

“You make me young.”  Dean nudges Castiel’s chin, forcing him out of hiding.  He presses a kiss to Castiel’s forehead and then another to his lips.  “My existence started with yours.”

It’s sappy as fuck, but as much as he loves his brother, and occasionally enjoys Crowley’s antics, his heart finally found true joy when Castiel joined their ranks.  

“You are not a Hammer,” he continues.  He cups his hands around Castiel’s face so he can’t look away, and strokes his thumbs across Castiel’s cheekbones.  “You are a Weaver.  Spiders would cry in awe if they could conceive the delicate webs you create.  You weave nets to contain and stabilize the balance of the universe.”  

He kisses Castiel again, nudging until lips part under his own.  He’s rewarded with a moan, and Castiel tilts his head, leaning into Dean’s touch.  Castiel kisses like he’s trying to win a battle, but Dean calms him with his touch, keeping the passion at a simmer instead of letting it turn into an inferno.  When he finally lifts his head, Castiel blinks dazedly up at him.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers.  “I am a creature of destruction.  I don’t--”

“You are an creature of peace as well as war,” Dean whispers.  “Balance.”

Castiel closes his eyes, and settles under Dean’s touch.  “Sometimes I internalize the vision humans have of me.  Thank you for reminding me that there’s more to me than violence and death.”

“I’ll always be here for you. As leader, and lover.” Dean peppers more kisses over Castiel’s face.  “Until Time itself fades, and I reap the last vestiges of the universe.”

“Thank you.” Castiel stays pliant under Dean’s touch, and he smiles.  “And I love you too.”

Dean pecks him right on the lips again.  “Existential crisis averted?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good,” Dean says brightly.  “Now what do you say to desecrating this desk?”

Castiel surges to his feet, carrying Dean’s weight with him and depositing it on the polished surface.  “There’s nothing holy about this desk.”

Dean is already tugging at Castiel’s clothing.  They could dismiss it with a thought, but they’ve both spent far too long with humanity, and enjoy the trappings of physicality.  “It’ll be the most holy, after I make you see god tonight.”

“We’ll see who’s crying for god’s mercy when I’m through with you,” Castiel growls.

Dean laughs and allows himself to be pushed flat.  He already knows they’re both going to win.

#destiel #death!dean #war!cas #4 horseman au #oops i ficced #kazshero