#the image of him crying in the medical car and hospital makes me sad :(

[dr3comebackera]

Daniel Ricciardo on his Zandvoort crash, surgery on his broken hand, recovery process, and return in Austin

Tom Clarkson: "Now you mentioned the elephant in the room, Zandvoort. FP2, Turn 3, what happened?"

Daniel Ricciardo: "I *awkward laugh*, I mean I obviously can remember it very clearly, since I didn't hit my head. Erm, but, so you come through, turn, I guess it's Turn 2, and it's over kind of a crest, but then you stay quite tight, because, then the line for 3, you ride the top of the banking. So you know, you're not taking a conventional racing line, so you're not like looking at the apex, you're looking at the top of the corner, pretty much. Like, as a driver, we're always looking ahead and normally like at the apex, but the way you exit 2, you then kind of look straight ahead and pick your braking point."

DR: "So at that point, I'd exited 2, I hadn't seen any yellows, nothing like that. And then by the time I've looked and braked, I then looked where I need to turn, and I see Oscar. This all happened so quickly, but I remember, I can, obviously I'm picturing it in my head now. So I remember, okay, the line we take is high and by this point I'd braked, so I'd already committed, so I knew the speed I was going. My only choice was to take the high line, but I could see his car was at the top of the track. So there wasn't enough room for me to pass through the high line. I'm going too fast to take a low line, so it was either, probably look like a real idiot and crash into him, or try and just slow the car as much as I can, and likely just crash into the barriers, which is what happened."

DR: "But yeah, because it was all, I guess I'm still trying to figure out what I'm going to do, by the time then I'd committed to just going straight, I hadn't then realized, 'okay, take your hands off the wheel.' And a lot of us still don't do it, because crashing is not natural. And it happens so quickly, because you don't plan to crash, so a lot of the time you don't kind of have, yeah, the time to be like, 'okay, I'm crashing, what do I need to do? Brace myself, okay, take my hands off the wheel.' Sometimes you just don't have the luxury of time."

DR: "So, that was it, I hit the wall. I've only watched one replay, but I just don't, I don't want to. Basically, when I've gone in, I'm pretty sure like the right front, it's just the angle, right, the right front would've grabbed the Tecpro [barrier] first, and then that's, like, pulled it in, so it's, it's like I've turned really hard right, the way obviously it's grabbed the wheel. So because the wheels then turned so quickly, I've basically lost grip, so it spun out of my hands, and the bottom of the [steering] wheel, which is pure, hard carbon, has then come up and basically karate chopped my hand."

DR: "So then, you've got the shock of the crash and then adrenaline, so I've come on the radio, and I'd, I think I'd been like, oh sorry, like I've crashed or something. And then, is he like 'oh, you alright?' or 'can you continue?' and I was like, 'no, the car is damaged.' And then, I could feel my hand, and I was like, 'ow, my hand, my hand.' And then I just, it started to, like the pain just went, obviously ramped up really, really quickly, and I feared that something was bad. So, as I'm, I wanted, I was like, 'I need to get my glove off, I need to get my glove off.' And as I'm pulling my glove off, I remember, I was thinking, *awkward huffy laugh*, I was like 'if there's a bone through the skin, I'm gonna pass out.' So that's all, I was just like 'please, please don't let me see anything gruesome.' I'm not good with this stuff, I'm sweating telling it, like I'm serious. I suck at this.

TC: "Have you broken a bone before?"

DR: "I broke my arm as a kid at school, throwing a tennis ball. Anyway, yeah, another very random accident, and I didn't need surgery, that was like a long, long healing process."

DR: "But yeah, so, alright, so I've pulled my glove off, and I, I could see it was already quite swollen, but no bone through the skin. I was like, 'okay.' But then the pain just got so bad, so as soon as I jumped into the medical car, I was *long pause* making a lot of noises, because I was in a lot of discomfort. So I knew that it was not good. I knew immediately, obviously, I wasn't going to race on the weekend. Like I didn't need a doctor to tell me. I feared it was a broken bone. I think the first thing that really kind of just made me sad, was I just had a very, very productive summer break. I felt really, really good physically, and I was just, yeah I was just ready to go. And this just felt like an unfortunate setback. But I was just more worried about surgery and all that, because I'm, again, I'm a bit of a wuss.

TC: "What happened next, I mean, you went down to Barcelona, to Dr. Xavier Mir, who is renowned in the MotoGP world, for mending those sort of breaks. I also think he was, didn't he help Lance Stroll earlier in the year as well?" "Yeah" "So who put you in touch with him, or did you know him already?"

DR: "So from the medical center, we went to the hospital there in Amsterdam. Got scans, and they're like, 'yeah, it's broken.' And by this point, it's the size, like, looked like an elephant stepped on my hand. The doctor there said, 'look, I would recommend surgery.' He's like, 'you can have it here, but you probably want to wait anyway a few days for the swelling to go down. Speak to whoever you need to speak to and obviously you can have your surgery wherever you want, I'm just going to give you my advice.' So then we reached out to Lance, we reached out to, well Jose, a friend of ours who works with Alpinestars, so he knows all the MotoGP guys, and he, he's Spanish as well, so he knows. So he, I think, put us into touch with Xavier Mir, and then, yeah, Lance was like 'go to him' as well. All signs were just pointing to, this guy's done this too many times, just go see him. Like, like don't even bother, just go there.

DR: "So it was, it was a blessing and a curse because, *laughs* he does a lot of MotoGP guys, who, are not human. They are not. It's fact, they are not. So, I think there's an expectation of me going in there, he's like 'oh, F1, MotoGP, same! Not human, don't feel pain.' 'No, doctor, I feel pain. I'm going to cry for the next 48 hours whilst I'm in this hospital.' So it was just funny, they, I think, you know, all the doctors and nurses and that who were helping me, and they were great, but I think they were, they were just quite, they would laugh a lot, because I would wince and pull away and ask questions every needle that went into my arm. Erm, so I think they just thought I would be tough like a MotoGP rider, but I am not."

TC: "I'm sure you were."

DR: "No, no, trust me, I'm not. The break itself was quite significant. It was a shatter, like it wasn't like, oh you just break it clean down the middle. I think it was in eight pieces or something. So it was also, for a bone that can be quite a simple one, it wasn't too pretty."

TC: "So it's your pinky that was being affected by it?" "Erm, well..." "On your left hand?"

DR: "It's like the outside of the hand. So that's the bone I broke, in between like the wrist and the pinky, like that knuckle. So like along the outside there. But even me just rubbing my finger over the top of my hand, hurt like crazy. Maybe I just feel pain more than others, I don't know. *laughs* But er, sorry, I just want to, just let's also say one thing. There was also the reality where, yes, I would moan and complain because I don't like the pain. But it was a broken hand, so there was also a part of me which was like, 'look, dude, yes you're in pain and it's going to be a bit of a process, but people have worse injuries, people have bigger accidents.' So don't get me wrong, I also tried to reality check myself through it all, and I think that's what made me quite, like remain quite positive."

TC: "You missed five races, you came back for Austin. Was there any talk of you getting back earlier, maybe for Qatar?"

DR: "So I knew, I was doing physio every day, and I was, I was doing what I could to come back as soon as possible. But I also wanted to make sure, and I think, you know, Red Bull/Alpha Tauri were really good with this, I wasn't fighting for a world championship, like it's not like, dude you need to just drive through immense pain and just get a point, you know because this is your titles on the line. Like it was, let's make sure you do this and heal properly, and get the right treatment, because also you've got, hopefully a second part of your career which is going to be long and glorious. So it was just, don't compromise anything that you then have a bum hand for the next two years of your career, three years, whatever. So it was good, I could just do it properly."

DR: "Qatar was talked about, I went on the sim the week of Qatar, on the Monday, but I couldn't, er, yet, drive with the full force of the steering, like so we would like bring the feedback down. Er, I just couldn't grip it and do more than like two laps at full strength. So it was very clear that Qatar was out of the question, and also for me to come back and like, yeah, I don't know, not drive at my best and then, no, that no one benefits. I don't benefit, the team doesn't. So er, it was that, at that point we're like, let's just go all in for Austin and make sure I'm good for that."

TC: "And Liam was doing a decent job as well"

DR: "Exactly, he was doing well and there was also, I think Red Bull were great to give me a contract whilst I was injured, to give me a contract for next year. So I, I had that-"

TC: "That was very significant, wasn't it?" "Yeah" "They actually signed you long-term when you were on the sidelines?"

DR: "Yeah, there's so much about being back in the Red Bull family this year that's felt good and right, and I think that was such a, yeah just such like a big thing for them to do that. I think obviously it showed they have a lot of faith in me. It also put to bed if anyone was like, 'oh you know, is there still any issues from their previous relationship years ago? Like is there any carryover tension or whatever?' Like, for them to do that, I think it was very much like, he's our kid and we're going to support him because we believe in him and- So that was really nice."

TC: "So you come back for Austin, and were there any ill effects there? Because I mean, that's a quick track, sector one in particular."

DR: "Er, no, like in, in short no. Erm, I think the race, I got into it quickly and, and, and I was actually honestly expecting more pain in Austin. I was expecting like every kind of bump or kerb I'd hit would be like 'ow, ow, ow.' But it was okay, and erm, I think it was just an endurance I needed to build so like, towards the end of the race, I could feel like my grip strength was maybe not as good as at the start of the race. But honestly, I was, I was fine. And I think that was another thing, I didn't want to get back into a race and then be like, 'yeah I could have done better, but you know, my hand was not up to full strength.' Or like, I was like, this can't be an excuse, and it wasn't, so it was all good."

TC: "And Daniel, you were never going to miss Austin, right?"

DR: "No, I couldn't. I would've loved the result to be better, but no, I couldn't miss Austin.

TC: "The track, the place"

DR: "Yeah, yeah. I love it."

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #i've listened to this beyond the grid podcast a few times now and i just need everyone to hear/read this part #he gives so many details about everything that happened including all the pain he felt :( #very much would like to give him a hug #also the broken arm/throwing a tennis ball story is crazy too #he talked about it in another video #i think a red bull on the sofa end of year video #and he said it snapped random because he had a medical issue (but didn't know about it) where his bone had been weakening over time #and it just hit its limit and snapped that day when we went to throw a tennis ball back to some classmates #also i forced myself to change all his ums and uhs and curb to the way he would spell them #i wanted this to be in his voice lol #dutch grand prix 2023 #dutch gp 2023 #zandvoort #daniel and his broken hand #the image of him crying in the medical car and hospital makes me sad :(

[ssa-thotchnerr]

Fearing The Reaper - Drabble

Part Two of Don’t Fear The Reaper

warnings: blood, angst, angry!hotch,sad!hotch

a/n: here’s a part 2 no one asked for lol

—

The suspense was killing you, as you watched the man who killed your mother drag her body around, before finally settling on a place to leave it. You were as silent as you could be for someone who wanted to cry and scream as you watched Foyet move around your parents old bedroom, obviously looking for you. He stood at your dads side.

Waiting.

Waiting.

You waited for him to do something, anything. To move, to speak, to even breathe loud enough to let you know that he was indeed still here, that this was real and not some intricate and highly, highly disturbing nightmare that your brain had conjured up. You closed your eyes, only to start screaming as your arm was grabbed roughly.

“Let me go!” You screamed as he pulled you out from under your parents. Then you really screamed, there she was, your mom, dead in front of you. Foyet grinned as he held you in front of him, forcing you to look at your own mothers dead body. “Plea-please stop.” You whimpered, shitting your eyes, unable to take the image much longer.

“I just want you to see what you got to look forward to,” He said, right in your ear. Foyet started to pull you in the direction of your room, and you dropped your entire weight to the floor, kicking and screaming in your mostly futile attempts at him to let you go. He sighed irritably. “Stop screaming, Y/N, you’re gonna make this so much harder.” He said calmly. Your bedroom door was wide open, and he’d assumed it was yours, since there was no way a 5 year old was watching Scream. He practically threw you down in front of him, watching as you tried to push yourself back into the corner of your room.

“Pl-please don’t do this,” You stuttered, your entire body trembling with fear as you looked up at him in fear. He seemed to take pride in the fact the terror he’d caused to your family, having killed your mother, and now probably you. As the front door downstairs was presumably kicked open, you knew this was it. He would kill you, and then your dad would kill him. You looked up at Foyet as he stood above you, gun aimed between your eyes. You didn’t expect him to move the barrel at last minute, pulling the trigger and shooting you in the stomach.

You screamed in pain.

From downstairs, Hotch felt his stomach drop. There was blood in the living room and on the stairs, he didn’t want it to be yours, Haley’s or Jack’s. He knew it was too optimistic of him to think that you or your mom had fought back against Foyet, he knew that even if you had, it wouldn’t have done much damage to Foyet, you were barely 5’3 and had trouble lifting your laptop and school books at the same time. The team spread out around the house, trying to hunt for Foyet. You were sitting in the corner of your room, your head leaning against the wall as you waited for the inevitable numbers of death to come and take over you and with the flashes of consciousness you were having, you were hoping it was soon. You heard things smashing, and then thudding as you waited to die. Then it was crying, you’d heard too much of that today. There was a running coming from down the hall, and as much was you wanted to yell to whoever was out there, you didn’t have it in you anymore.

But then your door opened, and through your barely open eyes, you saw your dad run in, crouching down in front of you. Hotch was shaking as he saw you, sitting on the floor of your old bedroom, the floor beneath you covered in blood.

“Y/N?” Hotch was covered in blood, Haley’s blood. You looked up at your dad, wincing in pain as you lifted the bottom of your shirt. The bad on the shirt, God, your parents hated them. Hotch didn’t care about the band on the shirt though, he was much more concerned about the bloody hole on your stomach, and it was bleeding. It was bleeding bad. “Oh, honey.” Hotch was quiet.

“It hurts, daddy,” You whimpered, letting out a quiet sob as he held your hand. Hotch knew he was crying, and he tried to hold it together, if you didn’t make it, he didn’t want you to see him crying. Your head fell forward as you let out a shaky, laboured breath. Hotch squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t lose you and Haley in the same day.

“Y/N, look at me,” Hotch said gently, swallowing the fear in his throat when you didn’t answer. “Y/N!”

-

“Are you sure you’re ready to do this? You know that you don’t have to,”

“Yes, I do,”

You’d barely survived, your dad carried you out of the house when you’d slumped over and into your dads lap. When they’d taken you to the hospital, you’d needed 2 blood transfusions, and had to stay in a medically induced coma due to the stress it could put on your weakend body if you were awake. You’d missed your moms funeral, and your dad had offered to go to the cemetery with you so you could say goodbye. You didn’t tell your dad what you’d seen, that you’d been forced to head your moms dead body being dragged up the stairs, that you’d been forced to be faced with her dead body.

“I think if I don’t go right now I won’t go at all,” You said quietly, looking over at your dad from the passenger side of the car. You’d gotten out of the hospital yesterday, a day after they’d woken you up, and then you were faced with having to talk about what had just happened. Hotch nodded and got out of the drivers side, coming over the passenger side and helping you out. You held your dads hand as he led you through the cemetery, the last place you hoped you’d be spending your weekend. “Was Jack okay?” You’d barley had any time to ask your dad if Jack was fine.

“Yeah, he didn’t really understand what was going on, he kept asking if you were okay. I brought him to see you while you were still out,” Your dad told you. You nodded, and took a deep breath in as you came to a stop. The dirt was still fresh, the grass having not grown due to the recent digging up of the dirt. Hotch put his arm around you as he heard the shaky breath coming from you.

“I didn’t do anything to stop him,” You said quietly. Hotch sighed quietly.

“Y/N-“

“No, I-I should’ve-“

“Y/N, listen to me. There was nothing you could have done, you’re 14, what could you have done without getting yourself hurt?” Hotch asked you. You stuttered for an answer, before you eventually broke down in tears. Your head fell to the side of your dads arm, and his hand ran up and down your arm as you continued sobbing. “I know, I’m sorry, honey.”

—

#criminal minds #hotchner!reader #hotch x daughter!reader #agent hotchner #angst #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #jack hotchner #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotch hotchner

[tinyboxxtink]

"...So I Married A Monster" *Chapter 7*

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Yeah I know, that last chapter was....brutal.

And I have some bad news my babies....I work non-stop the next three days, so maybe no new chapter until Monday.

But I gave you this one with a little floof, to make up for that horrible angsty chapter. But also, it's kind of short.

Worse news....it ends on a cliffhanger.

I LOVE YOU ALL DON'T LEAVE ME PLEASE.

@madamsnape921

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@wanniiieeee

@gibbs274

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@aprildecker-blog

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@shittanyy

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@believinghurts

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

Back At Your House

You woke up in your bed, covered in towels and one of Kylie’s pull ups taped under your underwear, along with a million other different cloths/toilet paper.

“What the fuck…?” You tried to move but realized the towels you were surrounded with were mostly covered in blood. You quickly began to panic as the more you woke up the more the pain was coming back. You tried to think of the last thing you remembered before blacking out. Billy had been pumping in and out of your ass, you were in torturous pain, and then he called-- Oh god.

You began scrambling around the bed with your arms under the sheets and comforter, looking for your phone. You could hear the shower running and Billy humming from the bathroom. He was getting off on this, the sick fuck. You couldn’t believe you had been so blind to his psychosis before this. Love is blind sure, but what the fuck?!

Finally you found your phone on the charger, but it was on your vanity across the room. You dragged yourself across the bed and leaned over the bed as far as you could, reaching for the vanity desperately.

You fell helplessly off the foot of the bed, whimpering and crying from the pain in your rectum. You were pretty sure you were still bleeding, but Billy had shoved so much toilet paper and towels up there you probably couldn’t even shit right now. Maybe for a long time.

You weakly pulled on the cord so it made the phone fall off the vanity and land in your hands. You saw you had 30 missed calls, all from Rafael. Oh thank god, he still cared about you. Worried about you.

You hit REDIAL and waited for him to answer. You looked up to the sky and started praying for him to answer before Billy got out of the shower. Finally after what felt like hours, you heard his voice. It was frantic and terrifying, he sounded like he had been crying for a long while.

“What now, Lewis? I swear to God if you FUCKING--”

“R-Rafa?” Your small, weak voice in response made him almost drop the phone in relief.

“Y/N?” He almost choked.

“Mi amor? Are you okay? Where are you? Where’s Lewis?” He rattled off the millions of questions that had ran through his mind since Billy had hung up on him. Hearing him call you amor made your whole world brighten, you wanted to weep in happiness.

“I’m--” You looked down at yourself. You were literally wearing a diaper.

“I’m outside,” He responded before you could say anything else.

“What?” You breathed deeply, pulling yourself up and limping towards your bedroom window. You could see Rafael’s car a few houses down, with the lights off.

“What are you doing?!” You hissed into the phone, glancing fearfully at the bathroom door. “You can’t be here!”

“You can’t stay here baby, you need medical help,” He said into the phone, staring at your silhouette through your window now.

“I-I can’t leave the girls,” You twirled your hair nervously.

“Baby if you’re dead you can’t help them at all!” Rafael reasoned.

Well, he did have a point. You checked the phone for the time: 11:30 pm. You had been out for hours. The girls were probably asleep, you didn’t know how much longer Billy would be in the shower.

“Look he won’t hurt them, right? You said that?” Rafael asked, knocking you back to reality.

“Raff after tonight I don’t know what he’s capable of,” You tried not to start crying again. You knew how upset he already was, if he heard you cry you knew it would send him off the edge again.

“God dammit!” You could hear him pull the phone away and violently hit the passenger's seat several times as the image of your bloody body being rammed by Lewis reverberated in his brain images.

“Rafael, calm down. Please,” You pleaded with him. “I-I don’t even know if I can make it outside,”

“Fuck,” You heard him mutter. “Then I’m coming in,”

“Rafael, don’t. Please--” But it was too late, he had already hung up. You closed your eyes and waited for the boom. You listened intently as the shower continued to run, then you heard your door open, footsteps come running down the hall.

Finally you saw him, Rafael. He scooped you up before you could say anything, grabbed some of your clean clothes out of your drawers and before you knew it you were sitting in the passenger's seat of his car, and he was speeding away from your house.

“Carino…” You felt his hand on the back of your head, rubbing your hair lovingly. “God I’m so so sorry,”

“It’s not your fault,” You shook your head weakly, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation of his skin on yours again. Even if it was just your hair.

You could smell his cologne wafting from his wrist and you placed a hand on his knee, turning your head to face him. He glanced over at you, giving you a sad smile. He put his free hand on your hand that was on his knee, then when he thought you were far enough away he pulled over to the side of the road.

“Wha---?” You looked around confused as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He unbuckled yours and then pulled you from your seat, over the gear stick into his lap.

“Rafa, what are you doing?” You cocked your head to the side like a confused puppy dog as he stroked your hair. Instead of answering your question, he pulled you into a deep, slow kiss. The complete opposite of what you had been through tonight.

“I just...I’ve wanted to do this since you left my office. Since I saw you with that gun pushed into your back. Since I saw you…” He started to cry so he looked down in shame.

You put one hand on his cheek and wiped the tears with your thumb. He put his hand over the hand on his cheek and kissed in between your thumb and first finger. You pressed your forehead against his while he tried to compose himself, then you just laid your head on his shoulder. He started to stroke your hair once more and just held you like that, basking in each other’s safeness and warmth.

“I love you,” He whispered while still holding onto you, tears still apparent in his voice. “I love you so much Y/N, I’m sorry. I will never let you out of my sight ever again,”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered into his shoulder. “I should’ve listened to you,”

“Hey,” He picked your head up and made you face him. “No, you do not apologize for ANYTHING, okay? This isn’t your fault,”

“Isn’t it?” You bit your lip while trying not to cry yourself. “I married the man, Rafael! I had kids with him, I--I would have stayed married to him if he hadn’t left!”

“But you didn’t know....” He comforted you.

“No but I should have,” You shook your head in shame at yourself.

“How could you have known that he--”

“Because my dad was like him, Rafael,” You finally admitted. You hadn’t told anyone that, not even Billy.

“....What?” You looked at him in shock, trying to make sure you heard him correctly.

“My dad, he--” You looked down at your lap in shame. “He used to beat the shit out of me and my mom,”

“....Me too,” Rafael finally admitted his own shame after a long pause.

“What?” You blinked several times. “Seriously?”

“Mmmhmm,” He nodded sadly. “Well you know when he was sober enough to hit. Sometimes he just wouldn’t come home at all. For hours, days. Finally never,”

“Oh, Raffi….” You gave a sympathetic look. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad drank himself to death,”

“How would that make me feel better?” Rafael raised an eyebrow at you.

“I don’t know, I was trying to say something comforting. I suck at it. I shouldn’t be a mother,” You shook your head.

“Hey now,” He put a hand to your cheek again. “You seem like a great mother,”

“Oh yeah, mom of the year,” You rolled your eyes. “I just left my kids with their psychopath father,”

“Hey, I kidnapped you,” He teased.

“Yeah you did--” You stopped smiling when the thought hit you like a train. “Oh fuck,”

“What?” Rafael furrowed his eyebrows.

“If I know Billy, once he realizes I’m gone and who I’m with, he’s going to claim you kidnapped me or something,” Your own eyebrows furrowed as you started going over worst case scenarios.

“But that’s absurd,” He shook his head. “Clearly I didn’t…”

“I mean you kind of did,” You shrugged.

“But you wanted to come!” He defended.

“You think he’s gonna word it that way?” You gave him a look.

“Well if they come after us then I’ll just clarify that--” Rafael kept reasoning with you.

“Then he’ll say that I just abandoned them,” You made another excuse.

“You left them with their dad--” Rafael was determined to make you see logic.

“He’s going to come after us Rafael!!”

“Okay, baby-- you’re spiraling,” He took both of your hands. “Inhalar, exhalar,” [pronounced

In-hall-ay, ex-hall-ay]

You took several inhales and exhales, long and deep.

“I just--” You breathed again. “I know this is going to end badly,”

“Not as badly as it could have,” Rafael pointed out. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do we need to go to the hospital or something?”

“...I...I don’t know,” You sheepishly admitted. “I haven’t had the courage to check,”

“What?!” Rafael cried, picking you up and standing up out of the car and opening the back door, laying you across the backseat.

“Baby these are fine leather seats! You’ll never get the blood out if you--” You tried to object but Rafael was already peeling off your “diaper”. He became more and more angry at the haphazard way Lewis had just patched you up so that he could shower. When he unraveled the mountains of toilet paper wrapped around your waist, he could see you were “Stopped up” by a bunch of cotton balls and tampons. And you were very clearly still bleeding. The sight made him sick.

“Fuck…” He whispered as he threw the “bandages” back on you, then went to get something from his trunk. He came back with an old t-shirt and wrapped it around your waist and butt area tightly.

“We have to stop this bleeding baby,” he began to panic again. “I-I don’t even know how you’re conscious right now, you must have lost a lot of--” He stopped talking when he realized you were in fact, unconscious now. All of those shitty bandages as shitty as they were, had been keeping your blood and and now it was freely pouring out of you and out of the car.

“Fuck…” He muttered as he slammed the door and got in the driver’s seat, starting his car again and speeding towards the hospital. Well, it would sure be a hell of a lot harder to explain he DIDN’T kidnap you now, if you weren’t awake to verify it.

He sped as fast as he could to the hospital, dialing Liv’s number as he drove. “Liv, get the squad to the hospital,” He instructed her.

“And we need a police detail at this address, but you have got to be discreet, I don’t want him going off the rails,”

As soon as they got to the hospital, Rafael jumped out and started yelling to EMT’s and nurses standing outside the emergency room to help him with you. They grabbed a gurney and helped Rafael put you on it, rolling you inside as you were immediately hooked up to things and had a team swarming you.

“How much blood has she lost?” A nurse asked him as she pushed him back away from you so the doctors could work.

“I...I don’t know,” He answered warily as he tried looking over her to see how you were.

“What blood type is she?” She moved him to face her.

“I don’t know…” He rubbed his hand across the back of his head, but it was covered in your blood. It made him panic more.

“Do you know anything, sir?” The nursed asked in an annoyed tone.

“Yes,” He was now glaring angrily. “I know she was brutally raped, and I’m pretty sure he tore her,”

“....He?” She eyed him up and down, seeing him covered in your blood.

“Oh come on,” Rafael exhaled with a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t think if I did this to her I would bring her in myself?”

“I don’t know you sir, I don’t know what you would or would not do--”

“No I did NOT do this to her--” He started to tell her she was nuts, when he heard the last voice in the world he wanted to hear.

“THERE HE IS!!!!” He turned to see Lewis walking in with Jersey PD, pointing directly at him.

“THAT’S THE MAN WHO RAPED AND KIDNAPPED MY WIFE!!!!!!!!”

….Well, fuck.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba angst #william lewis x you smut #william lewis imagine #william lewis angst #william lewis fanfiction #william lewis x reader #william lewis x you #william lewis #so i married a monster #law and order svu

[crispychrissy]

Connected - Part 4

Summary: Dr. Austin's theory is put to the test, and she shows Tony, Bucky, and Steve the woman behind the mystery. Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2976 Warnings: Angst, medical stuff, stretching the medical science behind the super soldier serum, discussion of Bucky's previous trauma & a mention of the horrible things the Nazi's did A/N: I apologize for the late posting, I fell asleep so hard last night I didn't have a chance to queue this, and then I was out all day (good 14 hours out and about) so I am just now able to post the new chapter since I'm home now. As I mentioned in a prior post, I no longer have a forever taglist, but I will still tag series specific people if they request. You can also follow this story & others on my Ao3 as well. The series was beta’d by the lovely @idjitmonkey and I hope you enjoy! Please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged in the series. :)

Series Masterlist – Marvel Masterlist

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Bucky made a quick call to Shuri who, after a thorough interrogation as to why he was asking, assured him his arm would not be affected by the magnets of an MRI machine. So now, Bucky was laying down on his back inside the machine and staring at the small glass covered camera embedded in the inside curve of the plastic above him.

“Stop staring at the camera, Barnes, you’re giving off some crazy resting murder face right now,” Tony’s staticky voice came through the pair of disposable earbuds he was wearing to protect his hearing from the noise of the scan. “Might sell these scans to Ripley’s Believe It or Not. You actually do have something going on in that head of yours.”

“As much as I know you want to answer, Sergeant Barnes, please do not speak or move,” Dr. Austin’s voice came through after what sounded like a small scuffle for the microphone.

Bucky blinked several times in an unnatural yet controlled fashion, and when he heard Steve’s laughter coming through the earbuds, he had to fight the urge to smile, knowing Steve got the message he blinked out in Morse code.

F-U-C-K Y-O-U T-O-N-Y

The scan was over almost a half an hour later, and Bucky couldn’t hide his exhale of relief once the table began to slide out of the massive scanner. Confined spaces still made his skin crawl and flash back to the cryo tube he was kept in, but the MRI was surprisingly open in design and not like the ones he usually remembered seeing in hospitals. When he brought it up to Dr. Austin on their way back to her office, she smiled at him and explained most of the soldiers they treat have PTSD and claustrophobia, so an open MRI design was necessary for the comfort of the patients she treats.

It made sense, and when they entered her office and Bucky’s stomach growled for the fourth time in the last fifteen minutes, she tossed him the orange he’d been eyeing earlier before taking a seat at her desk and flipping open her laptop.

“Normally we have to wait for the images to be reviewed by a radiologist, but I’m well versed in how to read brain scans,” Dr. Austin explained, clicking a few times before leaning forward to study the screen. “Oh, wow.”

“What?” Bucky asked, using his teeth to bite a chunk of the orange’s peel off since his right hand didn't have nails long enough, and his left didn’t have nails at all. Once he could see the flesh of the orange underneath, he slid his flesh finger under the remaining peel and began to remove it in large pieces, trying to avoid getting sticky juice on his metal hand.

Dr. Austin spun her laptop around to show Bucky the image on her screen. It was a scan of his head, he could tell that, but the mess of swirling bright colors on the inside where his brain was made his eyes hurt. There were bright greens and blues swirled with more vibrant reds and pinks dancing around inside the image. “This is your brain.”

“Looks more like those posters… the ‘this is your brain on drugs’ pictures if they were made in the sixties, Doc,” Tony said. “I’m guessing it’s not supposed to look like that?”

“No. There’s so much brain activity that it’s likely what’s been burning through your energy and why you’ve been hungry all the time,” Dr. Austin explained. “Any type of brain activity, including emotions and problem solving, requires energy, whether it’s planning a complex strategy of attack for a mission or a simple math problem or crying at a sad part in a movie. Overworking the mind usually leads to tiredness, which leads to sleep, naturally refreshing those energy reserves. Most humans don’t expend enough energy, even when the brain is very active, to require major replenishment. Take Mr. Stark for example.”

Tony looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes, you’re a very intelligent man, and I’m guessing that when you’re elbow deep in your inventions or developing something, you don’t sleep and will go days without rest… so you find you get somewhat hungry at random times, right?” Dr. Austin asked.

“Well, yeah, I usually keep snacks around the lab that I nibble on so I don’t have to leave to make an actual meal. It ruins the momentum,” Tony said, confusion in his voice. “Pep’s found me passed out over the kitchen counter halfway through making a sandwich.

“Your body shut down and went to sleep before you were even able to replenish that energy via food since sleep is more efficient. So, that is a normal human mind.” Tony opened his mouth to protest, when Dr. Austin rolled her eyes and switched analogies. “Fine, that’s a standard engine, if you will, that can easily be refueled by a small energy source for a limited amount of time before it needs to be shut down and rebooted,” Dr. Austin said, slowly twirling her right pointer finger in a circle.

“Alright, I’m following you so far.” Tony’s head was slightly moving along with the circular rotation of her finger.

“Now, in the case of our super soldiers here, imagine that engine, but amplified almost five hundred percent,” Dr. Austin began to rotate her finger faster and faster until it was a blur of movement. “The need for sleep is suppressed by the serum, since alertness is crucial in combat, so that reboot requirement is easier to put off. In order to keep this kind of engine going at the same speed and level of activity for prolonged periods, it would burn through a small snack, or a small source of energy, too quickly and would signal the driver of the car, if you will, that it needed more.”

“So you’re saying that something is making Bucky’s brain so active, and he’s burning through so much energy, that it’s manifesting as hunger to make sure he keeps up with what’s being expended?” Steve asked, his mouth slightly open in shock. “I mean, I always remember being hungry after mission strategy and planning meetings, but I just assumed it was because I was bored or had skipped a meal.”

Dr. Austin shook her head. “Nope. You were using your brain in overdrive, doing quick calculations and mission scenarios in your head to find the best possible plan of action, much faster than any normal human brain would be able to calculate. It makes you an excellent strategist, but that kind of brain power burns a lot of energy.”

Bucky snorted in disbelief and leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “It makes sense. I was a good sniper when I was first in the Army during the war, but after Zola… after he injected me with that bastardized version of the serum… I could calculate trajectory angles and wind velocities and distances in my head in seconds, didn’t have to write them out to do the calculations. Didn’t even need a spotter anymore.”

Dr. Austin nodded. “Exactly. The serum allowed you extra mental acuity at the expense of more energy consumption.”

“But that doesn’t explain why Bucky’s brain is lit up like a psychedelic Christmas tree,” Tony said, gesturing to the laptop image. “Barnes obviously isn’t doing any kind of advanced calculus in his head right now.” Tony looked at Bucky. “You’re not right?” Bucky shook his head and Tony continued, “so why is his brain so active?”

“And that leads me to my theory about Y/N,” Dr. Austin said, standing up from her chair. “Follow me, gentlemen. And Sergeant Barnes,” he looked over and raised a brow as he trailed after her into the hallway, “please let me know if you feel any increased feelings of hunger or exhaustion. The effects might come on quickly, so please let me know if, or when, you feel anything.”

Bucky nodded, and looked over to where Steve was walking to his right. Thanks to their childhood friendship, Steve could always see anxiety and nervousness in Bucky even when he tried to hide it, like when he saw Bucky off the morning he shipped off to Europe. Bucky kept his face stoic, but when Steve hugged him goodbye, Bucky was practically trembling under the Army-hardened mask he had worn then.

Steve reached over and clasped a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze of reassurance.

The doctor led them down several hallways, until they reached another wing of the military hospital which held secure patient rooms that could be locked down if necessary, whether due to outbursts of violence due to psychological issues from recovering soldiers or to hold prisoners who had been injured and needed medical intervention. Dr. Austin stopped in front of a room at the end of the hallway and gestured to the one-way mirror in front of her.

“Gentlemen, meet Y/N Y/L/N.”

The three men stepped closer and looked into the room, all eyes frozen on the figure sitting upright in the hospital bed. Y/N had shoved herself in the farthest possible corner of the bed, her knees tucked under her chin and arms wrapped around her legs. The photo in her file, and even the video of her they’d seen looked nothing like the woman before them. She looked almost emaciated, her skin a sickly pale that was almost translucent, and her stringy grease matted hair twitched slightly as her body trembled.

“Jesus,” Steve breathed. “She… she looks like those prisoners… the ones—”

Bucky swallowed and nodded. “From Natzweiler, yeah, I remember.” Bucky took a deep breath, fighting against the telltale tingle in his mind of a long since forgotten memory beginning to rise up like a wave. “Doc… is she eating?”

“She was when she first got here, but only if the food was left for her after she passed out from exhaustion,” Dr. Austin explained. “Now, ever since things have escalated, she rips out her IV’s, pulls out NG tubes, and refuses any food we bring her. I’m not going to sedate her just because it’ll make it easier to feed her, we haven’t reached that level of intervention yet, but we’re getting close. She told one of our staff yesterday, in Russian, that she was not going to eat any of our poisoned food, that she wasn’t some kind of lab experiment and that we were animals for not just shooting her in the head to get it over with.”

All of the air in Bucky’s lungs came out in one hard breath like he’d been punched in the chest, and he had to brace himself against the windowsill to keep his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

“Bucky?” Steve gasped at Bucky’s sudden weakness, grabbing onto his friend’s arm and placing a gentle hand on his back. ”What? Are you feeling the stuff Dr. Austin mentioned?”

Bucky grit his teeth and closed his eyes at the onslaught of memory fragments bombarding him. “No, I’m… I don’t know, maybe? I just… she’s…” Bucky’s thoughts were so jumbled he could barely form a coherent sentence, even in his head. He made a choked off noise that sounded more like a sob before he lifted his head to look at Y/N. “She’s reliving my captivity with Hydra. This… this was after I was transferred from the facility the Russians held me in after they found me to the one where Zola did his experiments. They were, umm, they were testing the limits of the serum, trying to figure out what I could survive.”

Steve’s face dropped and he took a sharp breath in. Bucky’s captivity and torture was not something he talked about often outside his therapy sessions. Steve only knew a handful of stories, ones that had come directly from Bucky’s mouth, and even then they were very hard stories for him to tell—lots of starting and stopping, frequent breaks, and plenty of tears. But here, with two extra people with him, and one being a stranger?

“Buck, you don’t have to talk about it,” Steve whispered.

“No, I need… she said exactly what I said to the guards who brought me food one day.” Bucky swallowed hard, flexing his fingers against the painted metal of the windowsill, the cold against his flesh hand grounding him. “They were testing different poisons and how the serum would fight it off… arsenic, ricin, even different kinds of snake and spider venom. I had seizures, strokes, and my heart stopped so many times I lost count.”

“Fucking hell,” Tony murmured, leaning against the wall behind them, his face a few shades paler than it was ten minutes ago. “Y/N is reliving your memories, reliving your life.”

“We need to find a way to pull her out of this,” Bucky said, straightening up with determination even though his bones felt like liquid and his mind was full of numbing static. If Y/N was reliving his life, even if it didn’t seem like the moments were in order, he knew it was only a matter of time until she would experience how the Winter Soldier was born, how he was forged, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Dr. Austin nodded and looked back at her patient through the glass. “If my theory is correct, which I believe it is based on your shared memories and brain scans, Y/N’s mind has somehow melded with yours. And your memories, powered by your mind’s energy, have somehow taken over hers, suppressing her personality completely. I don’t know if it was some kind of dormant mutant ability that was activated by the trauma of her captivity and torture, or something else… but there is obviously some kind of link between the two of you that we don’t have the technology to test for and verify. You’re essentially feeding her your memories, which is why your brain is lit up like that and why you’re expending so much energy.”

“It’s like she’s stuck inside one of Stark’s virtual reality headsets and can’t take it off, experiencing everything I went through while my brain keeps playing her different…” Bucky trailed off and his eyes widened before his head snapped to look at Y/N through the glass.

In a flash of movement, Bucky grabbed Dr. Austin’s ID badge from where it was clipped onto her white coat and darted for the door to Y/N’s room, scanning the badge so the door opened with a green light and soft click. Bucky, ignoring the shouts of his name and hands trying to grab at him to pull him back, opened the door and shut it firmly behind him, engaging the door’s auto-lock safety feature that he knows secure wings of hospitals have. The group outside would need to find another ID badge to get in, which would buy him some time.

Y/N’s wide and terrified eyes settled on him, and she tilted her head in an almost confused dog-like fashion, her eyes softening with an air of familiarity. Bucky could feel the hunger gnawing at his stomach turn into sharp cramps that almost made him double over, and there was a soft circle of darkness starting to creep in around his vision.

Bucky took three large steps forward, and even though she flinched away at his sudden movement, Y/N didn’t scramble away to try and avoid his hands as he lifted them. Her weary bloodshot eyes were full of unshed tears, and the closer Bucky’s hands got to her face, the more she began to tremble.

“You’re safe,” he whispered to her in Russian, before repeating the same sentiment in English.

The moment his fingers, both flesh and metal, touched the skin on either side of her face, it felt like he was on the wrong side of an attack from Thor’s hammer. Whatever weakness and hunger he’d been feeling was burned out of his body at the sheer shock cascading through his entire being. It didn’t hurt, but it was bordering on wildly uncomfortable, and Bucky was afraid he’d never be able to let go, his hands stuck to Y/N like a magnet.

There was something different passing between them, more than what touch alone could provide. Trying to understand everything that was happening was overwhelming, but when Bucky focused, he could almost feel Y/N inside his mind, like another whisper of a presence, a ghost in his consciousness. When he reached out in his head for her where he’d felt the ghost of her presence, he was assaulted with bursts of memories he knew were not his own, images of unfamiliar people, places, and things flashing in his mind like photographs. Bucky's curiosity was almost childlike, awestruck and trying to understand what his brain was comprehending, sorting through what Y/N was showing him.

The more information Bucky absorbed, the darker each memory became until it felt like he was wading through molasses, each image being harder and harder to move past. A hoarse whisper of “No” echoed in his mind, and Bucky couldn’t tell if it was his own voice or Y/N’s.

A solid arm wrapped around Bucky’s middle, one much more firm than human flesh would be, and pulled him backward until his hands dropped from Y/N’s face, breaking whatever connection had refused to release him when he’d touched her. Reality came rushing back, and the room and people around him flashed into existence, the change in environment and sound disorienting him and leaving him panting for breath, his knees wobbling.

“She…” Bucky looked over at Y/N, who was just as distressed, and watched her collapse onto the bed, unconscious, before his vision blacked out and darkness took him as well.

***

Connected Tags: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @that-one-gay-girl @fanofalltheficsx @joseyrw @lana-writes-04 @gia-25 @klanceiscannon14 @ahahafudge

#connected #part 4 #marvel series #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #reader insert #bucky barnes x y/n #angst #medical stuff

[kimburgess-ruzek]

Shattered

chapter one: purgatory

summary: Intelligence had been through the worst of the worst trying to get one of their own back alive. Each member has been to their own personal hell. Will everyone make it back, or will the cracks in Intelligence be big enough for the entire team to shatter?

a/n: about that s9 speculation, yeah i’m going to make a fic out of it. if you want to beat around the bush and read the plot of the fic, it’s here. definitely new to writing so we’ll see how this goes! also, don’t know how to work a tag list, but if you want to be tagged, let me know!

t/w: mentions of trauma, gunshot wounds, assault, surgical procedures (which btw i made up, i’m not a medical expert)

read on ao3.

.

purgatory

“I think we should get married.”

six words. six of the most important words. Jay had the breath knocked out of him. He can’t understand what he was just asked. I think we should get married. Just a few months ago, Hailey wouldn’t even look into his eyes, much less say “I love you.” And a marriage proposal, that seemed pretty much impossible.

Jay looked into Hailey’s eyes. He saw past the tears and looked deeper. He saw sadness and fear, emotions not usually associated with an engagement. No, he saw something different. Hailey was different.

Jay cleared his throat, clearly stunned. “I—.” He tried to find words, find anything to respond. But he couldn’t. He cleared his throat and tried again to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Hailey noticed the hesitation and suddenly changed her demeanor. She tried to dry her tears as quickly as possible, wiping her eyes and running her hair through her hands. She then stopped Jay, interrupting whatever he was trying to express.

“You know what, never mind. Never mind. I— We need to go. We need to get to the hospital. See how Kim’s doing.”

Jay saw the sudden change and tried to reason with Hailey. He quickly found his words. “Wait, wait, wait. Hails. Is everything okay?” He asked while putting his hands on Hailey’s arms, stopping her from turning towards the door. He gently rubbed them, trying to soothe Hailey. However, it was to no avail; Hailey gently pushed herself away.

“No. No, we need to go. We need to see Kim. I need to see her. Let me go change and then we’ll leave, okay?” Hailey reassured Jay, nodding her head. Before Jay could respond, Hailey kissed Jay on the cheek and briskly walked to the room. She felt like she was suffocating in her clothes. She had worn them for almost two straight days, and she had been to hell and back in them. She needed to get out of them.

“Okay—“ Jay half yelled, wanting to make sure she heard him. He updated Will on his whereabouts and he let the rest of the team know he and Hailey were on their way to the hospital. Kevin replied that Kim was still in surgery. The doctor hasn’t given any updates but hopefully will soon. After about five minutes, Hailey walked out in a new pair of jeans and a different top. She quietly grabbed three granola bars, one for her to eat on the way and the others probably for Kevin and Trudy. Jay loved how thoughtful she was. She had her keys, purse, and jacket in hand and was heading for the door.

“Ready?”

“Yep.” Jay got up from the couch and followed Hailey out the door, turning off the lights on the way out.

The walk to the car and the drive to Med was really quiet. There was definitely tension in the vehicle; there wasn’t the comfortable silence that Jay and Hailey were used to. Hailey was focused on the road while Jay was focused on Hailey. She never looked back at Jay though, her eyes only on the road.

“Do you want to talk about what just happened—“ Jay started but Hailey quickly interrupted him.

“No.”

Jay took a breath and mumbled “okay.”

For the rest of the ride, you could’ve heard a pin drop in the car. No one talked and no one made any extra movement. Once Hailey found a parking spot in the parking garage, she turned the car off and took a long, hard breath, trying to gather her words. Jay was opening the door when Hailey grabbed his hand, stopping him.

“Look, Jay. I... Look I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be short with you.”

It’s okay,” Jay replied, trying to reassure her.

“No, it's more than that. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. At the apartment. I mean I love you, I do. I love you. And I think you’re decent. But not the other stuff. I just... It was just today. We almost lost our team member. We almost lost our friend, Jay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if we lost Kim. And I can’t think about it. If we did lose her. Because I don’t know if I could’ve forgiven myself. I don’t know if I could live with myself, thinking I could’ve done more. And at the apartment, I just saw someone that helped save my friend and I don’t want to lose you either, ever. And the emotions and no sleep and everything just got to me and I.. I. I don’t know. I don’t know. But.. Just don’t think about that question I asked earlier. Okay, Jay? Okay? It’s all good, I promise.”

Jay could clearly see Hailey was rambling. She was tired, no, she was exhausted, and she was backtracking. He was scared. He was scared that Hailey would retreat back to before, turned off from love. He hoped this experience didn’t make Hailey go back to being afraid of love. Of loving Jay. Because he loved Hailey. He loved everything about Hailey, from her seriousness when working a case to her humming along to the music she was playing in her earphones while pouring her coffee in the mornings. But there was also something else. Something that Jay couldn’t explain. Hailey was different, and not different because of what she explained. No, this was more than fear, more than desperation. This was a plea, almost a cry for help. And Jay didn’t know why. But he knew that something changed in her. Something happened when Voight split them up. And Jay knew he had to get to the bottom of it. Not for his sake, but for Hailey’s.

As much as Jay wanted to tell her he enjoyed the proposal, he knew she didn’t mean it. At least, he knew she didn’t want it for pure love. This wasn’t genuine. The love was, but the proposal wasn’t. This was a reaction to something. And as much as Jay would love to be engaged to Hailey Upton, he knew she wasn’t ready for it. And he knew she would regret it if the proposal went down like this. But he knew that he loved Hailey with all of his heart, and he was going to show that. As much as he wanted to say "yes," he was afraid of saying anything would just break her. So he went along with Hailey at the moment, and he decided he was going to try again later.

Jay put his free hand to Hailey’s cheek, wiping a stray tear. “Hailey, I love you. I love you so much. And that’s not going to change. Ever. I will do whatever you want to do and are comfortable doing. Now, let’s go check on Kim. Does that sound good?”

Hailey relaxed into Jay’s hand and closed her eyes. This was the first time she had relaxed in hours. After a pause, she nodded and left Jay’s hold. She opened the car door, and they walked towards the hospital entrance to hear the fate of their friend’s life. They walked into the unknown.

.

Med was covered in blues. Police of all ranks and districts filled the waiting room. It was so packed, Kim would be embarrassed. She wouldn’t want to be the center of attention. But she needed the love. She needed the support, and when one of their own has fallen, everyone’s going to be there to help pick them back up.

Hailey and Jay quickly spotted Kevin and Trudy in their blackout gear. Kevin had his bloody vest lying on the floor next to him. His bloody vest that was Kim’s blood from where he held her so tight, trying to stop any bleeding if it would do any good. Trudy was sitting in a chair and Kevin was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder and his phone to his ear. He wasn’t talking, but his phone was still to his ear.

Trudy wasn’t speaking either. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t find any reason to have small talk. Or deep talk. She just couldn’t find anything to say. All she could do was just think, and run her mind to the ground worrying about Kim.

Kim held a very special place in Trudy’s heart. She was different from any other officer that Trudy has had. Kim has this pluckiness to her. She had a different attitude when it came to policing. And as much as Trudy berated her in front of the 21st, as much as Trudy picked on Kim and made her work overtime and made her run the extra mile, she loved Kim. She loved that green rookie with big brown eyes that walked in on the first day with a smile and a donut. She loved the woman who stayed in the district despite her failed relationship. She loved the woman who kept fighting when she kept getting knocked down. Kim had to have the biggest heart Trudy had ever known a police officer to have. Whether that be because of all of the hardship she has dealt with in the police academy or the lack thereof while growing up Trudy didn’t know. And to be quite frank, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she wanted to protect that big heart of Kim’s. She had to because Kim was the reason why a city like Chicago has hope. Kim brought light to a city of darkness. She brought ambition to a city of despair. No matter what the case was, Kim put all of her knowledge and energy into that case. She not only did that, but she cared for the people in the case. Hell, she even cared for some of the suspects, damn it. That’s how big Kim’s heart was. That's how big Kim's heart is. And now, that big, gullible, genuine heart has to fight for its life. It had to put itself in a position to be saved and it has to endure hours upon hours of surgery. So no, Trudy could not find any words to say.

Hailey and Jay walked up to Kevin and Trudy and gave solemn grins. Trudy found the strength to stand up and hug both Hailey and Jay. She held onto Jay a little longer, whispering ever so quietly “Thank you.” Jay patted Trudy’s back as a welcome, trying not to cry from the images of Kim handcuffed in that Buick resurfacing. After what seemed like a century, Trudy let go and sat back down. Hailey hugged Kevin and she and Jay stood with them.

Hailey then dug into her bag and pulled out a portable phone charger and handed it to Kevin.

“I thought you might need this.”

“Thanks, Hailey. Ruz would appreciate it.” Kev kindly took the charger and plugged it into his phone. He was glad because his phone was surely dying but he wanted to give Adam all of the updates as that were coming in.

“How’s Makayla?” Jay asked, crossing his arms.

“Uh, she’s good. She’s good. Adam told her that Kim had to work late, so she’s good. She remembered Adam and wasn’t scared. She fell asleep on the couch but Adam moved her to her bedroom.” Kevin tried to find any facts to answer Jay's question. He replied before listening to Adam say something over the phone.

“Yeah, Hailey and Jay are here... No, no updates yet... Yeah, man... The docs said the surgery would be pretty long.” Kevin answered over the phone.

“I spoke to the Commander. Intelligence isn’t getting any new cases until Kim pulls through.” Trudy stated, looking up at Jay and Hailey who nodded. They both thought it was rather respectful of the commander.

Trudy turned her attention towards Hailey, asking, “Did you or Hank find anything about Roy?”

With that question, Kevin looked at Hailey too. He chimed in, “Yeah did you catch any leads? Do you know where Voight is? Trudy has tried calling, but it goes straight to voicemail.”

All eyes were on Hailey, who quickly became flustered and at a loss for words. Does she tell the truth? Hell no. Not right now at least. Not until she gets to the bottom of what Voight did with the body. What does she tell them? She hung her mouth open, not knowing what to say. Jay noticed Hailey’s nerves and tried to calm her by putting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. This made Hailey refocus, and she mustered up an answer.

“I, uh. No. No. And I don’t know where Voight is.” Hailey could barely get her Sergeant’s name out of her mouth. She tried her best to sound casual and honest, and it must’ve worked. Either that or everyone was so exhausted and stressed that they didn’t press any further.

Will Halstead pushed his way through the waiting room and joined the team.

“Hey, no word yet. I just talked to one of the nurses. Just said they’re still in surgery.” Will said. He tried to press for news. Anything, but he was shot down. Hopefully, this was just because they were in a rush and not because they had bad news, which is what Will does but didn't want to believe was the situation now. When Jay told him of Kim's injuries, Will, as a doctor, was shocked she even had a pulse. Her injuries were severe and traumatic, and she spent almost 24 hours bleeding. But Will dare not say his thoughts to Intelligence. No. He didn't want to break any of their hope. And Kim was going to need all of the hope she could get if she was going to pull through.

The team just nodded and settled in. Not one of them was going to leave until they received news about their member. So they waited.

.

It was 8:03 am. The sun was peaking through the blinds covering the windows. It has been 10 hours. 10 long hours. Some of the police officers left for their shift. Most stayed, camping out in their chairs. Some slept on the floor. Some were called to a scene where they handled it and immediately came back to the hospital. Hailey, Jay, Kevin, and Trudy rotated between two seats, allowing each person to catch a little bit of sleep. But in reality, none of them could get more than a few minutes of rest before the memories of the previous 36 hours crept into their minds, jolting them alert and awake. But they all stayed in that waiting room. In purgatory. No matter how scared, how sad they were, they all remained brave. Trudy and Jay tried calling Voight a couple of times only to realize he wasn't coming. They passed it off to be overwhelming. They thought Hank couldn't fathom hearing any bad news about Kim in person. Either that or he was somewhere, swallowing down liquor like he did when Al passed. But they didn't leave. They couldn't leave. They just had to hope the Sergeant wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be doing. 

Kevin stayed on the phone until about 3 am before Adam told him he was going to try to sleep so he could take Makayla to school the next day. Adam woke up at 6 but got the same luck as the rest of his team. He didn’t really get much of actual rest. But he woke up, got ready, fixed breakfast, woke Makayla up, got her ready, drove her to school while singing her favorite songs, and was back on the phone with Kev and heading to Med before 7:45.

Will kept coming in and out of the waiting room. He would periodically try to get information but was shut down every time. Nevertheless, he kept trying. He kept pushing for Intelligence. For Kim.

Suddenly, a doctor scrubbed and dressed in surgical gear stepped foot into the waiting room and everyone immediately woke each other up and sprang to their feet. Kevin told Adam the surgeon was here and put his phone on speaker. The surgeon walked straight to Intelligence and the other officers turned towards the team, waiting for the news. No one moved. No one blinked. Everyone studied the surgeon, trying to pick up on any cues before he spoke. Everyone held their breath. Everyone waited for the update.

After a long breath, the surgeon started pouring words.

“Officer Kim Burgess experienced severe head trauma, assault, shoulder strain, and two shots to the abdominal region. It was clear she lost a lot of blood, and when we got into surgery, it was much worse. She had a dislocated right knee, so we set it in place. The through-and-through shot didn’t do any internal damage so we patched it right up. The other one that never exited was lodged two inches to the right of her left kidney. If it were to hit it, she would have experienced kidney failure and gone into shock shortly after getting hit. Luckily, that didn’t happen. We were able to extract the bullet with as minimal damage as could be done. She had some pieces of glass lodged in her arms and we were able to get them out. She experienced head trauma. We checked, and she was bleeding internally in the brain. Left untreated, it could have lead to developmental setbacks, blood clotting, or death. However, it must’ve started only a little before she arrived here. This was likely due to her staying calm under pressure and subconsciously keeping her head in the correct position. She lost a lot of blood and had a low BP. She lost a pulse after we tried to stop the bleeding, but she was resuscitated after the first try. We did everything we could, and we did a lot. She made it out of surgery. She’s critical, but she’s stable.”

With that, everyone let out the breath that they were holding and erupted with such emotion. Some celebrated, hugging and shaking hands with each other. Some clapped and yelled in happiness. Some stood there in awe, in shock, in disbelief. Hailey dropped her head in her hands and started sobbing. Kim’s alive. She’s alive. Jay let out an excited expression and high-fived Will before engulfing a shaky Hailey in a huge hug. Trudy just let out a loud, deep sigh of relief. She immediately pulled the surgeon in for a hug. She knew Kim would pull through. Kim’s a fighter. She was going to push through. Kevin had big tears in his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. As much as he tried to be optimistic, he saw Kim with his own two eyes. He saw her and could only imagine what kind of torturous hell she went through. He knew Kim was strong, but this. This situation looked bleak. And as much as he tried not to believe that he held on to Kim during her dying breaths, he just didn’t know if Kim could pull through. He didn’t know if anyone could have pulled through with those injuries. But she did. Kim’s alive. After Kevin caught his breath he put his phone to his ear and checked on Adam.

“You heard that, brother?”

All he heard back were deep breaths and sobs.

“She’s okay. She’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna be okay.” Kev heard Adam whispering in between his cries. He didn’t hear a direct answer from Adam but he knew he heard the surgeon. Kev followed suit and replied, “She’s gonna be okay. She's gonna be okay, bro.”

The surgeon cleared his throat and the waiting room quieted down, listening to what else he had to say.

“They’re wrapping up on Officer Burgess now. She will have a brace on her knee to keep it in place. She’s cut and bruised, and she’ll likely have a concussion. We’re giving her blood and we’ll continue for the next few days along with antibiotics to treat any infections from the warehouse. She’s sedated. We’re going to try to ease her awake but she’s a fighter. So she’ll probably wake up by tonight. She’ll be transferred to a private ICU after she’s out of surgery. She’s been to hell and back, and she has a hell of a recovery to go, but she’s alive.”

The waiting room erupted again in relief and celebration. The surgeon hugged and shook hands with all of the officers, including Intelligence. He then left the room to allow the policemen to celebrate.

Intelligence just looked at each other. They didn’t jump up and down or screamed to the rooftops. No, they were too tired for that. But also it was a different kind of energy. 48 hours ago, they were at each other’s throats. Each one of them had a different idea on how to solve this case. On how to get Kim back. Each one of them had hit their breaking point. Each one of them had been to their own hell. And some of them hadn’t made it back yet. And while Kim was fighting back from her hell, while she was fighting for her life, the team came together. They rallied together for their team member, for their friend. They had to come together in order to give Kim that energy. That strength in order for her to make it out on the other side. But that was temporary, and the team knew that. Now, after Kim has made it, the team doesn't know how to feel. They didn’t know what to do. And just because they got what they wanted — they got Kim back and they got her back alive — it doesn’t mean everything that just happened is dropped. It doesn’t mean everything, every word can just be forgotten. No, it just means things get taken off pause.

Intelligence had a lot of work to do. It had a long road ahead of them. The question is: will everyone make it out unscathed? Or will someone crack, leading Intelligence to be shattered?

#chicago pd #chicago p.d. #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction #cpd fanfic #cpd fic #cpd shattered fanfiction #based after s8 #kim burgess #adam ruzek #kevin atwater #hailey upton #jay halstead #hank voight #trudy platt #burzek #burzek fic #upstead #minor upstead #burgwater #ruzwater #burgstead #burzekwater

[meetmeatthecoda]

Lately, I've found myself drawn to stories ( and I mean drawn to as in envisioning those stories in my head, thinking them through to the very last detail, not reading, let alone writing them down, because I've long since accepted that they will never turn out quite the same on the paper ) where Red is the one who'd been seriously hurt and, therefore, rendered unconscious for an indefinite amount of time and worried Liz is the one who doesn't leave his side, hoping and praying and pleading that he would wake up. Probably, something that has to do with how unfair it is that we've seen Red keep vigil by hurt!Lizzy's side – playing music for her, holding her hand, reading to her etc. – a number of times and yet, over the course of 8 seasons, never have ever been allowed the pleasure of seeing Liz do the same for him ( not even when he was shot – because she left to retrieve the Fulcrum and couldn't come back until the fight was over – or when he was poisoned – because she'd been waiting to be cleared to see him and he ran away the moment he wasn't actively dying, because that's Red for you all ), even though she loves and cares about him as much as he loves and cares about her.

I mean, just imagine the possibilities!

Liz pacing around the waiting area of Red's mobile hospital while he's in surgery, unable to think about anything else other than how he looked – battered and broken and barely alive – when they've found him and how his head rested in her lap ( she could almost convince herself that he was merely dozing, if he wasn't so deathly pale and still and there wasn't so much blood on his clothes and her clothes and her hands and the backseat of the car ) and his hand was limp in her death grip as they rushed him to his doctors and she whispered words of reassurance and encouragement to him even though she knew he couldn't hear her and how she had to fight the instinct to curl around her lover and snarl at anyone who would come close because she can't let him be hurt further as the medics took him away from her, exchanging observations and orders that didn't sound particularly reassuring. She's also acutely aware of the fact that Red is fighting for his life – there, just a few feet away from her – and, though he's the strongest man she's ever known, he may not win, and so she makes a promise to the empty air in front of her that she will kill him herself if he dares to give up on her and Agnes like that now, when they've just reached the good, right place in their relationship, just confesses their feelings to each other. At some point, Dembe most certainly pulls Liz in for a hug, letting her cry in his shoulder, doing his best to comfort her ( even though there's nothing that can bring her more comfort than Red's hug, when he – alive and whole – wraps his arms protectively around her and holds her close and lets her hide from the whole world in his arms, his chest, his shoulder and neck – wherever she prefers to burrow her face at the time – and the memory itself makes her cry harder, because there's a possibility that he will never hug her like that again ), even though he's just as worried and scared as she is, and Mr Kaplan helps Liz clean up, washing away Red's blood from her hands and producing seemingly out of the thin air fresh clothes for her to change into.

Red, of course, pulls through the surgery, beating all odds, and Liz's heart floods with relief at the good news before sinking when the doctor explains to her and Dembe and Mr Kaplan the extent of Red's injuries and that it's impossible to say when – or even if – he wakes up.

And so the waiting game begins. Liz doesn't leave Red's side, holding his hand, stroking his knuckles with her thumb and never letting go, constantly talking to him and reading to him and even asking Dembe to bring the record player and some records from the Bethesda apartment to play to him, hoping that it would elicit some kind of response from him. Yet, as they days go by, there's not a single, smallest sign that he's aware of anything that's going on around him, that he's still there somewhere and is trying to find his way back to her, to them – he doesn't stir, doesn't so much as flutter his eyelashes, and Liz grows more desperate with each passing day, even though the doctor assures her that Red's slowly but surely improving ( but she can't see it with her own eyes, and if she can't see it, she's less likely to believe it, the more time passes with him just lying there, undisturbed by the loud, chaotic world around him ).

And then there's Agnes... While Liz keeps vigil at Red's bedside, the babysitting duties are split equally between Aram and Samar, Charlene and Cooper, Ressler and Audrey and Dembe and Mr Kaplan. Yet more often than not whoever picks little Agnes up from school and / or her ballet classes brings her over to the safe-house where Liz and Red are. She doesn't seem to be as unnerved by Red's state as her mommy is, climbing on his bed each time she visits ( after giving her mommy the biggest hug, of course ) and leaning in close to him, examining his face thoughtfully before half-asking, half-stating "He's still tired, mommy?". And Liz usually replies with a hoarse "Yes, baby" because she doesn't trust herself not to get choked up if she tries to answer more eloquently. Agnes simply nods then, satisfied with the explanation why he hasn't woken up yet, and settles against Red's side – mindful of his injuries and the spider web of wires and tubes connecting him to all sorts of monitors and machines – and either naps ( especially, on ballet classes days ) or tells her mommy and Red ( she talks to him just like Liz does much too easily – promising him to show him the new moves she's learnt when he wakes up etc. – as if she's already done that before or seen anyone else do that... unbeknownst to Liz, she did both – when Liz herself was in a coma, Agnes both saw Red talk to her mommy and was encouraged by him to talk to her, too, because it may help her mommy sleep easier and maybe she'll get better sooner and finally wake up ) about her day or does her homework or draws ( more often than not, she draws either cards for Red to read when he wakes up or just things she wants him to see ). And when the time comes for her to leave, she always kisses Red on the cheek, wishing him "sweet dreams" and to get better soon, and then gives her mommy, who tries so very hard not to tear up but fails miserably, a hug and a kiss, too, and tells her frequently that she shouldn't cry because Red is just too tired, just like she – Liz – once was, and that he just needs to sleep a bit more.

And when the door behind Agnes closes and Liz is sure her daughter won't see / hear her, she breaks down hard, in big, ugly sobs, because her little girl shouldn't be acting so naturally in this kind of situation and because she wishes so hard that Red just woke up, because she can't do this, any of this, without him.

In the end, once his body has healed itself enough and he regained enough of his strength, Red, of course, does wake up. It's a slow process, and Liz thinks she might either faint or go mad from the overwhelming feelings that are swirling inside of her when Red moves for the first time in what seems to her like forever – squeezing her hand feather-lightly – and when he leans slightly, unconsciously into her touch when she strokes his cheek – out of habit, without even expecting any sort of reaction from him and being pleasantly surprised – and when he opens his eyes for the first time – it's a brief occurrence, with his eyes slipping shut tiredly again after just a few moments, and he's still pretty much out of it, apparently, not even noticing her presence by his side, but for Liz it's a major event – and when he finally, finally looks directly at her – alive and conscious and alert – and calls her "Lizzy". He's still weak and his voice sounds terrible and Liz knows she shouldn't let all of her pent-up feelings – the fear and despair and frustration and love and relief and exhaustion – out on him like that – he's just woken up, after all – but she can't hold back the tears nor the jumbled mess of "thank you"s and "I love you"s and " "I've missed you"s and "I'm so so happy you're back" and "I was so worried" and "Don't ever scare me like that again" that spills from her lips as she leans in to kiss him lightly and give him the gentlest of hugs...

(Since I'm not a ficwriter and, therefore, have no intentions of using this pile of ideas/images/feelings myself, I wouldn't mind at all if you or any other writer drew inspiration from this rambling of mine)

Ahhhhh 😭😭😭 Are you sure you're not a fic writer, anon?? Cause this reads like some quality hurt/comfort to me!! 🥲🥲 Honestly, this is a lovely scenario to imagine & it gives me a slightly bitter sense of satisfaction to think of Liz suffering through just a fraction of the time Red spent by her side while she was in her coma... especially if it's the catalyst for fEeLiNgS to emerge tee hee bc, you're RIGHT, we were woefully deprived of those situations in the show & I'll never not be sad about it tbh. More specifically, things I love the most about this in no particular order: Liz having to "fight the instinct to curl around her lover & snarl" *swoon*, Liz swearing she will kill him herself if he dies LMAO, Dembe hugging her for comfort & Mr. Kaplan helping her get cleaned up 🥺🥺🥺, Liz playing records for Red yasss, AGNES & everyone taking turns babysitting her while she misses her Daddy desperately but deals with the situation with a maturity & grace beyond her years in an effort to help her grieving Mommy through it cool cool mkay mkay, Liz only breaking down once Agnes leaves OWWW, anddddd Liz being a blubbering mess when Red finally wakes up & calls her "Lizzie" & they kiss *whispers* it's fine, i'm fine 🙃 IN CONCLUSION, I love this anon, thank you for sharing this lovely little AU with me!! 🥰 And much, much love to you, of course, my friend!! ❤️

#The Blacklist #Lizzington #Agnesgate #thoughts #headcanons #mine #ask #anon #ughhhhhhhh #this mini fic is packed with feels #and punched me right in the face #thank you for this gift anon #:') #much love!! #<3

[twiistedgalaxies]

Genesis: Chapter 6: Pill Capsules and Scrambled Eggs

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves.

Or, alternatively:

The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

           Tomura held the smooth, plastic pill organizer, running his finger along the compartment’s hinges. He opened the small, light purple lids with a satisfying click. The morning after he’d forgotten to take his medications on his first night at the orphanage, he had woken up to his brother launching the pill organizer at his head at top speed and with deadly precision. He’d decided not to ask where or how his brother was able to find one. Hisashi seemed to have decided not to tell him. It was a staple of their relationship, him not asking and his not telling. Something left over from their parents, Tomura guessed, all too used to Hisashi pulling cash from seemingly thin air whenever household funds ran thin. At the thought of his parents, Tomura felt the ever present, heavy weight of grief grow more unbearable. He swallowed, over a week later and he still couldn’t believe they were gone.

         He laid out his pill bottles methodically, and set about the task of loading each compartment with his afternoon doses.

         Sunday. He and his brother had spent last weekend sleeping in the damp holding cells of the police station until the department could figure out what to do with them. The thin sheet they’d each been given did little to fight off the biting cold, most of those nights were spent crying, or staring numbly at the ceiling’s spiderweb cracks. The officers were kind, but it was clear they wanted to be rid of him and his brother. Hisashi had been angry. It was a strange relief, seeing another so upset at his parents’ meeting their ends. The way the people around them reacted, it seemed like the ones who mattered most to them had never even existed. The world just carried on, uncaring.

         Monday. They’d arrived at the orphanage. That day was a blur, he just remembered not liking the Matron and feeling apprehensive about the place that was clearly falling apart. He’s still sad he missed out on Monopoly.

         Tuesday. His first day of class. He was given a nightmarishly thick classwork packet so he could catch up on classwork, nearly a week had passed and he was still whittling it down slowly between assigned chores. In class he had spitballs launched at him whenever the teacher had his back turned. At recess, no one seemed to want to play with him, giving him a sneer or a disgusted grimace whenever he approached. Instead of playing, he settled for sitting under a large oak tree, working on the drills and exercises in his homework packet. Tomura wasn’t surprised that his peers didn’t like him, no one wants a cripple to drag them down. It still stung though.

         Wednesday. Hisashi and Leo must have noticed his dismal mood (despite his constant dodging of their questions) and pulled him aside after dinner to start their still ongoing game of Monopoly. The game was lasting for a ridiculously long time, and was getting stowed with all it’s pieces on a shelf in between sessions, strategically hidden under old textbooks to hide them from the other kids. Despite being glued to some clunky old phone the entire game, Hisashi was still winning by a landslide. This frustrated Tomura to no end, something that his brother’s friends found amusing.

         Thursday. Tomura took up a small delivery job for the Matron in exchange for a little bit of spending money. Christmas was coming soon, and he was determined to buy his brother a gift, even if it was just something small.The task landed him in a shadier part of town, which was a particularly impressive feat in the eastern side of LA. He found himself in an old impound lot, filled to the brim with ancient rusting cars and dead shrubs. A squat shack sat in the center of the lot, looking abandoned and haunted, especially next to an imposing storage shed. When he knocked on the door, in the back of his mind he worried the peeling paint and chipping wood would imbed itself in his hand. Luckily, that didn’t happen. The door opened to reveal a scowling, gaunt looking man with sallow skin that looked crumpled like tissue paper. 

         The man spoke and Tomura couldn’t help but reel back at his terrible breath and rotting teeth, “You one ‘a Abra’s?” he asked.

         Tomura nodded and quickly handed over the package he’d been given for this job. The man looked at it for a second, then at Tomura with a dissecting gaze. He shifted uncomfortably under his stare before he heard a grunt and had the door slammed in his face. Tomura blinked with surprise before promptly booking it out of there.

         When he returned to the orphanage, the Matron gave him a few crumpled bills and a lecture for his trouble. Apparently she expected him to make nigh instantaneous deliveries. On foot. Going across town. He had to bite his tongue to keep from protesting and instead chose to vent to his older brother, who’s been looking increasingly exhausted, later that night.

         Friday. Apparently he wasn’t the only person disliked by his peers, because as he was attacking the homework packet with vigour during recess he noticed three other kids, visibly metahumans, playing with marbles on the sidewalk. One kid looked like a lizard, another had hands that looked like they were coated in a metal alloy, and the last one’s skin seemed to shift colors with his mood. They were in the middle of their game when the kids who’d been launching spitballs and jeers at him throughout the week kicked over their marbles and a fight began to break out. Tomura was on his feet racing towards the group before he had time to think. Desperately, he tried to defend them, only to wind up in the matron’s office, given trash and gum duty for the next several weeks, as well as a particularly nasty black eye. 

         Later that night, he was woken up by the sounds of the matron arguing loudly on the phone in the common room. Something about payments, shipments, and inspections. It seemed like boring adult stuff, but he didn’t miss the fear in her eyes or the glistening sheen of sweat on her makeup covered face. He was barely able to duck back into his room and return to bed in time before she walked in to make sure the kids were all asleep.

         Saturday. He and Hisashi started the day in the back of a filthy taxi, and then in the waiting room of a hospital as the staff got their mom’s room ready. Her withering, pale body hooked up to countless machines is an image that will be burned into his eyes forever, he thinks. The nurse told them that it was a miracle that she survived, but the damage sustained to her brain by the gunshot has rendered her effectively a vegetable. The visit was spent with Tomura desperately clutching her bony hand, talking between sobs, and his brother rubbing circles into his back. For being in a hospital the room was so, so loud. The sounds of the respirator and beeping of the heart monitor created an all-penetrating blanket of noise that had Tomura waking up from a dead-sleep later that night, breathless and in a cold sweat. 

         Tomura closed the pill organizer, once again enjoying that satisfying click. All of his pain medications were at their maximum dose. He’d been feeling sicker lately, and knew that he wouldn’t have long until his body grew used to the dosing and he’d be rendered incapacitated again. At this thought, he felt a burr of anxiety in his chest. He shoved it down, worrying wouldn’t help anything. 

         Double-checking his pill organizer one last time, Tomura made sure that all of his things were in order (and well hidden) before he made his way to the mess hall. For all he disliked about the orphanage, he could still appreciate the colorful slats of light the stained glass windows cast on their eating area. The mess hall was as rowdy and packed as usual today, and Tomura found himself wincing at the noise. He made his way to the seat his brother had carved out for himself among his peers.

         The teen looked dead on his feet, dark bags under his eyes and surrounded by mysteriously obtained cups of coffee. It was an odd sight to see his normally well-manicured brother so dishevelled, Tomura was instantly worried.

          “Hey ‘mura,” his brother greeted, though it came out as a half mumble.

         “Are you okay?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

         “Peachy,” Hisashi replied, brightening when he saw his friends enter the room.

         Tomura frowned at the obvious lie, “You’re clearly not fine, what’s wrong?”

         Hisashi shifted in his seat visibly uncomfortable, “We all process grief in different ways, I’d really prefer if you didn’t keep pushing, it’s been a long week.”

         Tomura nodded in understanding, feeling guilt twist at his stomach, “Sorry,” he grasped his brother’s hand across the table and looked him in the eyes, determined to reinforce his next words, “If you ever want to talk, I’m here, it doesn’t just have to be you who supports me, ya know?”

         His brother let out a low hum, and jerked his head towards a table across the room, “It looks like the mutant brats you foolishly put yourself in harm’s way for are over there, if you want to go hang out with them.”

         Tomura felt his eyes light up, despite his mild wince at the memory of the verbal reaming his brother gave him after that incident, and a smile stretched across his face. “Alright! I’ll catch you later, okay?” he finished that statement with a look that carried silent promise. We’ll continue this discussion later.

         Hisashi smiled sardonically, “Of course.”

                                                   -@~*^*~@-

         It had, in fact, been a long week. Hisashi smiled and bullshitted with the acquaintances he’d collected since landing in this barnacle of scum attached to an ever-sinking ship. He had spent the week, while confined to the orphanage, feeling for their mannerisms, expectations, and wants. It never hurt to cultivate future connections after all, even if they were rather irritating, and if their nightly Monopoly game served as a device to further these connections and goals as well as make his baby brother happy? All the better.

         He yawned, the caffeine he’d been given as a cashed-in favor could only do so much. There was an increasingly familiar buzz in his pocket. He carefully kept his facial expression from changing. As he spoke about baseball or something equally trivial, his thoughts turned to the thorn in his side.

         After making contact with Matt his first night at the orphanage, he was reached out to by an anonymous messenger. They asked him to perform a steep task. One that he wasn’t particularly willing to fulfill.

                                              Unknown Number

                                              Tuesday, 3:25am

[I need a favor.]

                                                                              [How did you get this number?]

[We have a..]

[Mutual associate.]

                                                                                                                     [I see.]

                                               Tuesday, 1:03pm

[So about the favor]

                                                                                                                      [Yes?]

[There's a pest that we need you to eliminate.]

                                            [I assume that’s not all you intend for me to go off of.]

[Of course not.]

                                                [I’d like to meet with you face to face before doing                                                                                                       anything drastic.]

                                                          [Security concerns you see, I’m not going to

                                                               such efforts for someone I’ve never met.]

                                             Wednesday, 11:00am

[Fine.]

[We’ve decided to meet with you.]

[Come to the old warehouse off West Beverly]

[You better be as good as we’ve been told you are.]

                                     [Of course, only the best quality of service for my clients.]

[Be there at 1am sharp, Sunday morning.]

                                                                                                        [See you then.]

                                               Saturday, 9:00am

[Just confirming that you aren’t pussying out

on us.]

                                                                                                       [Of course not.]

                                                                     [How am I to know this is not a trap?]

[Don’t be an idiot, why would we ambush you if we 

want something from you?]

         Based on the use of “we” in their correspondences, it seems like he was dealing with an organization of some sort. That, or some petulant brats whose daddy hit them too much. Either way, he’d always met with his clients face to face to sort out the specifics of his deals. Just because he’d grown rusty doesn’t mean he’d grown stupid. Despite their placations, he knew that he could very easily be walking into a trap. Especially, since the mafia was involved. It’s because of this that he (unfortunately) had to exchange texts with Matt.

                                                         Pest

                                              Thursday, 2:00pm

                                                                   [I’m meeting with a client on Saturday.]

[Oh? So you’re finally taking on deals again?]

[A gif of Mushu from Mulan, clutching a sword

and talking to a cricket saying, “My little baby,

off to destroy people.”]

                                                                                                            [Very funny.]

                                                [I don’t know how trustworthy they are, so if I don’t

                                          send you a text confirming my safety by Sunday night,

                                      assume the worst. If anything bad happens I need you to

                                                                                         take care of my brother.]

[And I’m doing this because…?]

                                        [If they do prove to be trustworthy, I can give you an in.]

                              [I know you’re always looking for new sources of information.]

[Alright, alright. I’m a man of my word. I’ll lend

you a hand.]

                                                                                               [I’ll hold you to that.]                                                                                                                          Seen

         Dealing with Matt more than necessary was an.. undesirable outcome. However, Hisashi wasn’t so foolish as to enter a meeting, completely blind, with no back-up plan. At least this way he could ensure Tomura would be safe, even if something happened to himself. He was just about to dig into his eggs when the matron stepped up to the front of the room. As he continued to engage in pointless chatter, he watched her from the corner of his eye. This couldn’t be good.

         “Ahem-hem,” the insufferable woman began. Her pointless throat clearing was drowned out in the noise that flooded the mess hall. He watched her pull her angular features into an often adorned scowl. She looked at those under her care as if they’d just taken a leak in her cereal. 

         “Excuse me,” she tried, once again ignored. Looking frustrated, she grabbed a nearby glass and spoon from a table and clinked them together loudly, finally forcing the room into silence, “First of all, I will not tolerate such insolence from those I house, feed and clothe. If it takes me this long to get everyone’s attention again, the consequences will be severe, understood?”

         “Yes Matron Abra,” the children droned, sounding as if they were trying out for a funeral march ensemble.

         “Good. Secondly, it has come to my attention that some of you have been making late night excursions,” she continued. Hisashi worked to keep his face schooled into a calm facade. He’d been going out each night to perform small jobs for Matt. Each time he went out, he was always careful. There had to be someone else slipping out as well, but who? The mess hall erupted into murmurs as his peers asked similar (and several more) questions. Matron Abra waited a few beats for the chatter to die down, then said, “As a result, the staff and I will be patrolling the hallways and making increased checks to the sleeping quarters. Within the week, we will be hiring on a security detail to ensure that everyone is ah,” her face split into a viscous grin, “safe and sound in their beds.”

         Hisashi felt his brows knit together, how the hell could they afford a security detail when this place was falling apart? Then, it dawned on him as to how much of a hindrance these new measures would be, sneaking out was already a pain on it’s own, but with guards and frequent visits to the sleeping quarters? He’d have to start pulling out tricks he hasn’t used since he was in middle school. Well, fuck.

A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter, since I didn't want Tomura to drop off the face of the Earth narrative-wise while Hisashi wakes up each day and chooses violence. As per usual, feel free to leave a comment, feedback helps me improve my writing! I don't have much else to say in this week's A/N, school has made me really tired and I want to take a forty-year long nap.

Edit: I think the formatting gods are smacking me with a stick today. First I was having issues with AO3 then tumblr decided my last paragraph needed to be at the top of the post.

AO3

#Genesis fic #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero #my hero academy #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #afo #ofa #ofa first holder #dfo #dad for one #pre-canon #pre-quirks #origin story #fic #archive of our own #ao3 #original holder of one for all #all for one #one for all

[sigritandtheelves]

Hi!! I’m the anon that has bothered you about Simple before. I definitely have not forgotten about, but no pressure! Whenever you choose to gift us with the next chapter is great!!!

I’ve had this message for so long… thank you anon, and I’m sorry this took so long, but here you go. 💛

Simple

Chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

PG-13 | 2k wds | pre-XF AU | MSR, Melissa/Samantha

A/N: I’m not sure if taking a break helped my writing at all—it still felt like pulling teeth to get any words on the page, but I did put them there, so… here? Sorry.

—

January, 1990 - Stanford

She was down to the wire now, and the pressure was on. Surrounded by books, diagrams, and piles of notes in a cocoon of preparation for her second licensing exam, Dana had barely made time to eat for weeks. Studying was both necessary and the only thing keeping her mind off of the deep, lonely ache inside her. In bed at night, she oscillated between feeling crushed by the weight of the uncertain future, which seemed to press her down into the mattress… and the light fluttering of hope, the pulse of joy and desire when she thought of Fox Mulder. She imagined him as he’d been on that last morning, touching her face, his eyes searching hers, the solid feel of his hips between her knees. Her mind was a storm of medical facts and the interrupting image of his face in her memory, lowering to touch his lips to hers as he made love to her on her sister’s guest bed.

Then, inevitably, she would think of the residencies she might be offered in St. Louis or Albany. She thought of the fact that long-distance relationships rarely worked out, in the end. She thought of Fox getting tired of late-night phone calls, and of all the other women who were right there in D.C. already. She thought of Daniel, who had found her twice now at the hospital, pulled her into an alcove, and dropped less than subtle hints that he thought she should stay with him.

(“You’re a brilliant doctor, Dana. Just imagine what it could be like, the two of us.”)

She’d been firm, but he’d dogged her about why, and she couldn’t answer. She thought of his teenage daughter, of his wife who’d done nothing to deserve this, of the sharp jealousy she’d heard in his voice the day she’d broken things off. (“Is there someone else?”)

“Damnit,” Dana mumbled when she caught a mistake in her work. She erased, blew away the pink-gray shavings, scribbled another string of names and symbols. She appreciated the clarity of the answers on these tests: there was right and wrong, true and false. Nothing like the foggy, dark path toward her future, which she could not see.

It was past four in the afternoon when the phone rang—she’d been hovering over her coffee table working on her notes the whole day, and the low-hanging sun through the kitchen window surprised her with the hour.

“Hello?” She answered.

“Ah, there you are.” Fox’s voice, like a cool breeze cutting through humid air, made her smile. “I thought maybe I’d imagined you.”

“I’m here,” she said, nearly breathless with the pulses of joy the sound of him brought her. “And you? Are you real?”

“I’m real. Lonely, but real. You okay?”

She hesitated a moment. “Yes. Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Hmm.”

“What about you? How’s that strange case you’re working on?”

“It’s fascinating. I wish I could get your opinion on some of these medical files, but I’m not sure how this other agent would feel about outside opinions. She’s kind of territorial about her work.”

“Oh.” Dana turned that sentence around in her mind several times. Territorial. She. “But it’s, um, it’s going well? Your new, ah… arrangement?”

“Yeah. It’s good. I can’t wait until I can tell you more about it. Speaking of which, I may not be able to call for a few days. We’ll be out in the field. Out of town, I mean, for the case.”

Dana swallowed and sat down on her kitchen chair. “Oh,” she said again. “Where will you be?”

“Ohio. Near Columbus.” There was another pause where she could hear him thinking, even as the image of him on the road with this other woman elbowed its way into her mind: on a plane, in a rental car, face to face over a table at some diner in some small town, in a motel room… “Dana,” his voice was a gentle interruption. “Are you really okay?”

She wanted to tell him that she was fine. It was silly, she thought: there was nothing to be done right now, and worrying could only make things worse. But the soft tug of his voice, the concern at its edges, made her want to confess. “I’m so scared,” she whispered.

He was quiet a moment. His voice, when it came across the line, was so soft she barely heard it. “Scared about what, Dana? About us?”

She squeezed the phone cord, wrapped its loops so tight around her index finger that her skin turned red. “About the future,” she said. “And yes. About us. I mean, is there an us? What will happen if I get placed in Reno or Boston? Won’t you get tired of this?”

She heard his deep breath over the line, heard the rustle of him changing positions. “Are you tired of it?”

“No!” She said, perhaps too quickly. “No. But you have another kind of life. You must want something more than whatever this is.”

“Dana, what I do… It takes a lot out of me. You haven’t seen that part of it yet, but it’s hard. I’m a mess most of the time. And Sam, she’s pretty good at pulling me out of it, but the thing is…“ he took another deep breath. “Since I met you, you’re the only thing that makes it better. Remembering you. Thinking of you. So no. I’m not going to get tired of it. Even if I only see you twice a year, I’m not going to get tired of it.”

Dana’s face was hot—she could feel its flush. Her heart hurt. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he said. “So if you want there to be an us, there’s an us. At least until you get tired of me.”

She imagined him broken after a case, unshaven and rumpled with those sad eyes looking at her. She imagined how she would hold him, kiss his eyelids, let him cry if he needed to. She imagined a lab where she might work, where he’d call her in the middle of the day, excited to tell her some impossible thing. She imagined a world where they fit together like this—complimentary. Interlocking. Seamless.

“I do,” she said. “Want it, I mean. I think—yes. I want it very much.” Her flush of affection was so surprising and strong, she’d almost said she thought she loved him. Too soon, she thought. I can’t possibly. But somewhere inside her, she knew that she did.

“That’s good. Then we’re an us. And the next time I see you, I’m going to show you what a good us we are. With wine and maybe some dancing and a kiss so long and slow you’ll forget your own name.”

“Oh god,” she said, glad she was sitting down.

“Yeah,” he said. “With some of that too.”

Then she was laughing and missing him so hard she felt it in her bones.

—

January, 1990 - Ohio

“Agent Mulder, tell me more about yourself. Why did you join the FBI?”

Agent Fowley drove the rental across a flat suburbia. They were outside of Columbus, now, heading to the site of three unexplained deaths. Fox fidgeted with the map in the passenger seat, aware of his new partner’s curious energy.

“I was recruited out of my PhD program,” he said. “I showed an aptitude for behavioral science, and I enjoy the work. Profiling, I mean. It’s like puzzles, only when you get it right, you save people’s lives.”

She nodded, with a half-smile that said she understood. “No power fantasies, then? No grand heroic ambitions?”

He smirked. “No.”

“That’s good,” she said. “I’ve known enough men in the Bureau like that. Not married?”

He cleared his throat. “Ah, no. Not married.”

“Hmm. Me neither.”

He watched her drive, svelte in her black suit and carefully adorned with understated but expensive jewelry. She carried herself well, shot daggers with her looks when she felt disrespected (a fact he’d learned while visiting the Arlington PD with her last week), and she missed nothing in the case reports. She was intimidating as hell, but she seemed kind at the same time. Kind in the eyes, and in the way she angled herself to listen.

Unless that was flirting. God, he was bad at this. As clever as he was at profiling, Fox had always had a terrible time discerning for sure if a woman was flirting with him or just being nice. With Dana it had been different, a kind of immediate magnetism that made every glance and word and gesture feel charged. It hadn’t been deliberate or game-like at all. He thought of Dana’s frank curiosity, her sharp confidence in her work that softened into subtle apprehension about him—about them. Because they were a them now. She was maybe even sort of his, and this realization warmed a place low in his abdomen. He could flirt freely with Dana just by being himself. But he would need to be careful around this other woman.

Hard-frozen and empty soybean fields appeared around them, gray and frostbitten, as they passed beyond suburbia. The fields then gave way to strip malls that dotted the lazy, rolling hills outside their small-town destination. He and Agent Fowley dropped their things in two adjoining motel rooms, then met at the diner across the street to go over their case notes. She was all business, strategizing the order of their interviews and examinations—except when she ordered a slice of pie with a guilty smile. “Just this once,” she said, offering, for the first time, a hesitant vulnerability. She offered some of the pie as well, but he declined.

Later, in a farmer’s small kitchen, she wielded questions like knives. while he collected careful observations. They worked well together, a harmony between studious and persistent. By ten, they were back at the motel with more interviews planned for tomorrow. “You were good out there today,” she told him. “Insightful. I wouldn’t have picked up on that thing with the pen.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure you’d have figured it out.”

Her eyes lingered, perhaps just a little too long as she fiddled with the key to her room. “Well,” she said, and now her voice was husky, just a tad playful. “Good night.”

He swallowed hard and wasted no time with his own key. “G’night,” he said.

In his room, he double checked that the adjoining door was locked and dropped onto his bed, face first into his pillow. It was definitely flirting, and that was bad. Bad news bears. The Danger Zone. He was terrible at rejection, miserable at letting women down easy, probably because he’d so seldom had to do it. He was usually the one undergoing the rejection. In some other time, some other version of the world, he knew this would play out differently. A weaker version of himself would give in, would fall toward her like a desperate lost animal until she grew tired of him and left.

But he had Dana now, and just the thought of her made him feel strong. He remembered the feel of her pajamas under his hands while they slept on the couch, how she’d come down the stairs in soft flannel, nervous at first, like he might change his mind when he saw her. But when they looked at each other across the living room, her socked feet quiet on the carpet, it was as if the tumblers of a great lock clicked into place and they were just them again. They watched A Christmas Carol on TV with her head on his chest, like they’d known each other a thousand years. He needed her now (needed her always), so he drew on the strength he’d found with her that night.

In the morning, Fowley drove again. “Is it a left up here?”

He checked the map. “The second one.”

“Agent Mulder,” she said. “Can I call you Fox?”

“Um.” He cleared his throat. “I, ah… I’d like to keep this professional. If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” she said, stiffer now, sitting upright in the driver’s seat. “I just wanted to say thank you. For taking time out of your work in BSU to do this, I mean.” She put on her blinker and made the turn. “Agent Mulder.”

He nodded, and they were silent for the rest of the drive.

Three days later they were on their way back to D.C. When Fox got home, he put in a request for two days off (a long weekend) and booked a Thursday morning flight to California.

—end chapter five—

go to chapter six

#a thing i wrote #simple #chapter 5 #i can't promise it's good...

[prxttylittle]

[Puts head on the other’s shoulder], “You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”, “You keep staring at me instead of watching the film. What’s up?”

[Puts head on the other’s shoulder]

{ v ;; the princess and the moon.

       The sound of his phone ringing at anytime after 11pm always reminded Prince of his dealing days but then he would remember where he was and recognise that, now, a phone call late in the night was usually never good news, it no longer meant money. They were woken up by a call close to 6am to say it was time to say goodbye to Cassie. Luna’s brother had texted in the middle of the night only to call the next day to update them when things got bad with her dad. Even when he was a kid, his dad would receive a call at 2am and then as a five year old Prince would be left alone with his baby sister for anything up to four days. The only time a phone ringing after midnight ever meant good news was when he and Luna were booty calls to one another when they were young. This time, it was bad news. The worst news, in fact. He’d gone to bed in a bad mood, after an icy conversation with his wife before they turned the lights off and he’d only just fallen asleep when the iPhone tone alarmed him, waking him up. Pandora’s face lit up his screen and he didn’t hesitate to answer, wiping the sleep out of his eye. Twenty minutes later Prince was at the hospital, rushing in search of his sister. Another fifteen minutes later, after dropping Leo off at Nick’s where Nick’s sister was minding all the other kids, Luna was right by his side. Nick was relaying what Panda had told them about the accident that day when a doctor appeared. She announced that he was going to be in surgery for another while, and was in critical condition but she couldn’t update them on his progress or make any comments. Prince stepped back and it felt like time around him was slowing down. He could feel people pass by, and could hear voices but everything was blurry. The sound of Pandora crying in Nick’s arms felt miles away, and he could barely feel Luna’s hand on his. His vision was blurred but it was only when he felt a drip down his cheek that he realised that it was tears blocking his sight. He stepped back again and this time felt Luna’s hand slip away from his. He didn’t say anything, he just walked away.

Prince got outside the hospital, feeling his insides churn inside him. He vomited into the nearest bin, tears still spilling down his face. He heard his name and turned to face his wife. “Is this enough for you? Is this me understanding loss enough for you?” He wasn’t angry with her. She’d had a point in their last argument when she stated he didn’t understand what she was dealing with after Cassie and her dad. He’d quite literally never lost anyone in his life. His mother walking away didn’t count, it wasn’t the same. It was no real love lost. And even now, Prince still hadn’t lost anybody yet. Matt was in surgery, there was a chance he’d make it. But Prince was no optimist. The doctor not being able to give them any positive news to cling onto other than the fact that he was alive didn’t give Prince much hope. He couldn’t believe that Matt was going to make it because after the loss of Cassie and Luna losing her dad, he thought maybe when it rains it just fucking pours. He shook his head, wiping violently at his eyes. “Fuck I’m sorry, I’m a fucking asshole. I didn’t mean that.” He wrapped his arms around her, tucking his face into the crook of her neck, despite the dampness of his cheeks. It didn’t make any sense for this to happen, for Matt to just get randomly hit by a car. It wasn’t fair, hadn’t they been put through enough as a group? It just didn’t make sense how Matt could be sending Prince voice messages with witty jokes one minute to being unconscious in an operating room the next. He let out a breath and pulled back, his hands going to cup Luna’s face. He wanted to speak, apologise for the tension between them at home. He wanted to tell her she could ignore him for the rest of their lives as long as she promised not to get ill or hit by a random truck on the motorway en route to work, he wanted to just tell her he loved her. Instead, he kissed her, because words never were his strong suit anyway. They returned to the ICU, to Matt’s room where the bed was vacant. Prince was still shaking as Luna led the way, hand intertwined with his. Pandora was sat next to the bed, holding onto the bed railing for dear life as if he was there. Nick was pacing up and down the hall outside the room, cursing out loud every now and then. Prince took a seat, Luna joining him. He felt her settle in, placing her head on his shoulder. He sighed and kissed the top of her head before they took one another’s hand and sat there together, playing the waiting game for word of Matt. Prince felt sick, like his lungs were going to explode but having Luna was helpful, having her hold onto him the way she was calmed him down.

Prince wasn’t even sure how many days had passed but Matt was still in his coma and he just wasn’t able to hold onto hope like everyone else. He felt like he was waiting to plan the funeral. He recalled conversations they’d had, where Matt joked about carrying his own coffin or playing stupid music as he was put into the ground. He didn’t know what Matt really wanted. He didn’t even know if Matt was more of a burial or cremation guy. He figured someone with as much money as Matt’s family probably had a will, even so young. He kept these thoughts to himself, not telling anyone he was preparing for the worst. He walked into the hospital room, frowning at the sight of the kids playing with cheap hospital toys on the ground. He glanced across to Nick who was on his phone. “What are they doing in here?” He hissed, quiet enough so nobody but Nick would hear him. Nick shrugged him off, barely supplying an answer. “Where’s Luna and Panda?” Nick still didn’t look up from his phone, saying he didn’t even notice they’d left. “Of course you didn’t, you can’t look up from your fucking phone for two seconds. Matt could wake up and you’d fucking miss it because you don’t give a shit. Asshole.” Nick did look up then, glaring at Prince. Before they could fight, Pandora and Luna returned. “Dad called Nick a asshole.” Prince blinked at Leo who stood up to greet his mother when she walked in. “Tattle-tale.” Katie giggled while Camille corrected his grammar. Luna just handed Prince the coffee she’d gotten him while she was gone instead of indulging the kids. Even with Matt lying lifeless in the middle of the room with wires and tubes sticking out all places, the kids still managed to stay oblivious, to joke around. Prince had never known innocence like that.

Sitting around his best friends’ hospital bed for even more days with no answers was draining. Prince was just waiting for the machines to stop beeping or for the doctors to come in with a final announcement that he was brain-dead, no sign of life. Part of him perked up whenever someone in a white coat came nearby, maybe they’d come in with good news. That had yet to happen. Prince decided to check on the kids in the hospital’s nursery. They had been going back and forth from the hospital to being babysat at home. Eli and Leo were playing with toy cars while the girls were drawing on a chalkboard with some other kids in the nursery. They were old enough to know something bad was happening but not old enough to be distracted from the importance of winning a toy race or colouring inside the lines of a drawing of a flower. “Prince?” Katie appeared in front of him. He knelt down in front of her. “Is Ava’s daddy going to die? Like my mum?” Prince frowned. “I just don’t want them to be sad like I am.”As Prince stepped back into the room, exhausted, he wrapped an arm around Luna’s waist from behind, kissing her shoulder over her shirt. “Any updates?” But he already knew the answer. She leaned back into his touch, resting her head on his shoulder like she’d done the first day, but now he was filled with even less hope and it wasn’t as comforting. Suddenly, despite no changes in the environment, the screen beside Matt’s bed started making rapid beeping noises. Prince stepped away from Luna as a nurse ran into the room. “What’s happening?” Pandora’s weepy voice challenged the nurse who was encouraging them all to leave the room. Another nurse and a doctor ran into the room, shouting medical terms at one another that Prince didn’t understand. One of the nurses started performing resuscitation, pounding on Matt’s chest. It looked painful. The rapid beeping turned to a steady sound. “He’s flatlining!” The nurse working on him called as the main doctor who’d been reporting to them entered the room. Prince knew what flat-lining meant and he couldn’t bear to stand around and watch his best friend, his brother, die. When Prince got outside, Nick was already out there. He had a cigarette in one hand and Prince noticed the flask in the other. It was less about Nick and more the image of Matt’s lifeless body that drove Prince to do what he did. “What the fuck is your problem?” Prince demanded as he shoved Nick from behind, causing him to choke and stumble forward. He grabbed the flask off Nick and threw it at the ground. “Your fucking kid is upstairs worried that Ava, Eli and Camille are going to be like her.” He shoved Nick again, who wasn’t fighting back. “But they won’t be because at least their other parent isn’t a piece of shit.” He shoved Nick yet again but insulting Nick’s parenting skills earned Prince a punch in the mouth that he wasn’t expecting. Nick’s name being hollered distracted both of them as Luna came between them, pushing Nick away from her husband. Prince insisted he was fine as she examined his face. He pushed her hands down. “I’m fucking fine. I came out here because I didn’t want to watch them announce him as dead–” Luna stepped in front of him and he couldn’t read her facial expression. Why was she looking at him like that? The words swirled around in his mind as he and Luna ran back to the room. ‘He’s awake’ and ‘he asked for you’. He couldn’t believe it. He literally couldn’t believe it. Maybe Luna had gotten her wires crossed. Nick followed them but Prince didn’t care. “Be careful, Eli. Your dad just woke up. Be gentle.” Pandora pulled Eli down from the bed just as Prince and Luna turned into the room. Matt looked awful, pale and groggy. His eyes were open, only barely and he was breathing into a mask and not moving but he was certainly awake. Prince’s breathing shallowed, he felt like he was going to pass out but Luna’s hand tightened around his and he calmed down and turned to her. “I’m going to kill him for making me think he just died. Don’t you ever end up like this.”

{ v ;; no reason.

      Jason looked in the rearview mirror back at Freddie who was eagerly holding a stuffed bunny in his hands, so tight that Jason was afraid the thing would explode at the ears and all the filling would pour out. He was babbling, telling Jason everything that was thrilling to him about having a baby sister. Jason couldn’t help but smile as he re-focused his attention on the road when the lights went green. Fifteen years ago, he wouldn’t have predicted he’d be this settled into adult, family-life. Finding out Iola was pregnant the first time had been such a shock and neither of them really knew what they were doing, taking each day as it went and taking help wherever they could get it. He still didn’t feel like they’d gotten the hang of it completely when she revealed she was pregnant for a second time, once again knocking him off of his feet. “I told the kids at school that I have a baby sister and guess what? My friend said he has two little sisters. Isn’t that cool, dad?” Jason chuckled and nodded. “It’s very cool buddy, but let’s just focus on one for now.” They rolled into the hospital car park and Jason had to try his hardest to keep Freddie by his side, the child was practically vibrating with excitement. They finally turned into the maternity ward and Freddie spotted his aunt before Jason did, worrying him when their hands become unconnected for Freddie to go running at her, ignoring Jason’s call to slow down. Jason caught up to them and Freddie was repeating everything he’d said in the car to Leah, this time introducing the toy rabbit he’d picked out for the baby. He heard Iola cooing coming from her room and took Freddie from his Leah’s arms, warning him to be gentle with the baby when they got in. “Hey, honey.” He beamed at the sight of his wife, kissing her on the forehead. She was cradling Marceline, whose face was poking out of a fuzzy yellow blanket. Jason kissed her, too. Despite not shutting up once since being picked up from school, Freddie had gone silent. He was standing at the edge of the bed, picking at a thread in the rabbits arm, staring at the floor. He had suddenly gone shy. Jason and Iola exchanged a knowing glance and Jason took the baby, cradling her gently. Beside him, Iola got out of the bed, going to kneel in front of Freddie. Jason focused his attention on Marceline and it felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest. He’d felt exactly like this the day Freddie was born, he loved this feeling. He loved having a family with Iola. It was the dream he never knew he wanted to come true until it did. Iola managed to talk Freddie down from his shyness, encouraging him to take a seat on the bed, his back against the wall. “You ready to meet your little sister, love?” He nodded to Freddie who looked at Iola and only when she nodded in encouragement did he answer that he was ready. Gently, Jason crouched down to Freddie’s level. “Now, hold your arms out. Be careful with her, put your arm under her head– yeah just like that. You’re a natural at this! Keep her head supported, okay?” When he was sure Freddie wasn’t going to drop the newborn like a basketball, he stepped back. He wrapped an arm around Iola’s waist as she rested her head on his shoulder. They gazed down at their kids with awe. Freddie started to talk, introducing himself and telling Marceline about her room and the difference of it from his, going on to talk about his favourite games that he was going to play with her. Jason grinned. “I knew you were good looking when I first met you but I never knew you’d make such beautiful kids.” He chuckled, kissing her on the top of the head as they continued to watch their children bond.

{ v ;; july 17th.

        Zayn wasn’t sure why his managers had suggested this tv show. It seemed to put him in the middle of a lot of unnecessary drama that wasn’t going to give him any good publicity, always fighting and fucking the wrong people. At first he thought it would be relaxing, living in a house with nothing to do each day but simply exist for the cameras. When drama and gossip sources got introduced he thought maybe he’d be protected by his team and it seemed so far he was since none of his dark secrets had been revealed yet. His brothers had, and a few of his friends. He realised a lot more people confided in him than he thought because he’d already known half the secrets being revealed. He knew Ari’s long before it was made public but he wasn’t expecting to feel so protective of her once he read the revelation online. Ari had told Zayn a long time ago about the abuse she received from her dad growing up. At the time, he saw red. His rage was no less existent when the Gyhab drama channel talked about it. He didn’t think she needed to be embarrassed of it but he hated that he knew nothing would be done. The whole world could know her dad was a piece of shit but he would suffer no consequences, not like what Ari suffered. He had plans with the other Ariana but he immediately cancelled in favour to seek out Arianna’s company. He didn’t even give an excuse, just cancelled and routed in his room until he found his laptop. He made his way to Ari’s room, stopping at the kitchen en route, and knocked on the door. There was no answer but he wasn’t accepting that. He pushed open the door, discovering the lump on the bed. “You should really lock that. A lot of weirdos live in this house.” She took a moment to stir but eventually poked her head out from under the covers and he smiled in greeting, struggling to hold onto the laptop tucked under his arm, the food balanced in the crook of his elbows and the cups of tea in his hands. “I’m seriously struggling here.” He knew the only reason she crawled out of the bed to help him was because she liked his tea, and wanted the cup designated to her. She lightened the load he was carrying and he shut the door behind him and locked it. “We’re going to watch a film.” Over an hour later, the credits to the first Twilight flashed onto the screen, and Zayn didn’t stir. Instead, he just went into the recommended and turned on the second one. Usually he would argue with her about wanting to watch these but he was here to make her feel better. “Zayn.” He glanced over at her, frowning at the sadness etched onto her face. He was able to understand she was more upset about the memories her secret reveal would bring up, rather than the revelation itself. “More tea?” He offered, if just to distract. He shuffled closer to her and brought his arm to hug her into him. “If you want to talk, I’m here but if you just want to watch crap movies, I’m also here.” He watched as she considered his options before settling into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. He felt his heart race just a little bit but he ignored it. Now wasn’t the time for feelings. He chuckled when she defended Twilight against his use of the word crap before settling back into the bed with her.

“You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

{ v ;; the princess and the moon.

      Prince propped himself up on his elbow, watching Luna move around the room, hushing Camille with a Spanish lullaby. He didn’t understand the song despite how well he’d tried to learn the language over the years. He picked up on a few familiar words but overall couldn’t grasp the entire thing. A smile braced his lips as he watched them. Luna would whisper to Camille occasionally, calming her down and sometimes brushing at her hair. He knew she only did the hair thing because the baby’s head was unbelievably soft, like defy-science soft. It was the first thing that he’d noticed about his niece, after how miraculously tiny she was of course. Eventually Luna put Camille down in the crib and crawled into bed with him. He held the covers open for her and immediately scooted closer once she was in his company. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re good with her. She likes you.” He pointed out, keeping quiet. They’d offered to babysit just to give Matt and Pandora who were constantly yawning and sporting bags under their eyes, some time off. The couple jumped at the opportunity and escaped abroad for the weekend but Pandora’s video calls every hour just to check on her baby showed they weren’t prepared for how much they’d miss her. Prince agreed to keep the travel-crib in their own bedroom so Pandora knew Camille wasn’t alone at any point in the night. He wasn’t exactly used to having a tiny human present so he was doing his best to whisper. “She likes me too, really we’re great with kids.” He was hinting but his serious moment was interrupted by his phone ringing on the nightstand. He cursed and rolled over to grab it before the sound could wake up his niece just when they’d gotten her down. He rolled his eyes when Panda’s name popped up on the screen. He silenced the phone, put it down and turned back to Luna. “We’re asleep.” He tucked his face into the crook of her neck. They were quiet for a while, breathing steadily as the sound of soft music played from the plug-in Pandora had provided. Prince didn’t recognise if it was just general white noise or an actual lullaby. He didn’t really know any lullabies. He pointed that out to which Luna answered that Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was in fact playing. He hummed and nodded. He started tracing shapes against her skin with the tip of his finger, drawing stars in time with the music. “I’ll have to learn all the fucking lullabies for the next time we babysit.” He paused, his lips taking over from where his finger had been. “Or some Spanish ones because surely that’s what you’re going to play for our kids.” It was out there now and he couldn’t take it back and he didn’t want to take it back because Luna just seemed as happy as him at the thought of them growing their family. She’d mentioned it one day when Pandora was still pregnant and they’d gone shopping for baby stuff together but they didn’t dwell on it too much, they never did. He was enjoying married life. They had fun, traveling and making plans. Nothing felt like it was missing but he also wouldn’t be opposed to bringing something extra in. He sighed. “Then again, I could be a shit dad, for all I know–” Luna cut him off. “You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.” He blinked at her as she assured him that’s what he’d be for a mini them, too. He smiled. “The best thing?” He snorted and then went quiet, worrying he was being too loud but the baby slept soundly. A few moments passed and he returned his gaze to her. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened me, too. More, even.” He kissed her. “Just imagine how good I’ll be when I’m singing Spanish lullabies to a baby Luna.”

{ v ;; no reason.

    Daddy, look!” Jason looked down to Freddie who was throwing flower petals into the air and he could feel the love for his son bursting through his chest. Jason knelt down and started playing with the blossoms, too, throwing them over Freddie who giggled like it was the most amusing thing in the world. Jason’s eyebrows shot up when Freddie stumbled and fell onto his butt, waiting for the child’s reaction. As per, Freddie just laughed, pointing out that he’d fallen. Jason chuckled and reached over to pick him back up. “Look how handsome you look.” Jason beamed, fixing the little bowtie wrapped around Freddie’s collar. He hadn’t really planned on dressing Fred up so much for this but the suit had been in the window of the store and he honestly couldn’t help it. Besides, Freddie seemed to love it. “Mummy is going to be so happy when she sees you.” He ruffled a hand in his son’s hair but was distracted by the sound of someone calling out that Iola was here. He explained the plan to Freddie one last time, watching as he nodded and made his way to wait expectantly at the gallery door. Jason made his way upstairs, always keeping an eye on Fred even though everyone in the room was friend or family and would follow him if he went wandering. Eventually the door opened and Jason hopped out of sight, before she could catch sight of him. He made his way to the unused part of the studio upstairs. There was a room with a balcony where Jason would spend mornings or evenings, watching the sun or the stars and waiting for inspiration. A few occasions he’d brought Iola up and pointed out the lights and colours that he admired. He never enjoyed any of the sights as much as he enjoyed looking at her. The room was usually empty bar one desk and chair but now it had easels against the wall, and a keyboard with a lady sat. Rose petals scattered the floor, along with tea lights. Fairy lights were hanging from wall to wall, crossing the white mesh hanging from the ceiling. The lights and petals led outside to the small balcony, which also had fairy lights wrapped around the railing. A small table stood alone, with a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne and two glasses on top. In the garden under the balcony, Jason had hired a string quartet, but that part was just to show off. Their friends and family would gather out there once Iola and Freddie got upstairs. Inside, on the easels, photographs that dated back to their early days of dating up to as far as just a few days prior hung. Some paintings recapturing moments they’d not photographed but he’d remembered were present but he’d been too insecure about his art to use too much of those. He shook out his limbs nervously. Iola had always wanted to get married, she bugged him about it for years but here he was, sweating profusely as if he didn’t know the answer. In all honesty, he probably wouldn’t even be putting on such a show about it if he didn’t know deep-down she would say yes, but his nerves were just something that couldn’t be helped, his worry that maybe she’d changed her mind about him. The sound of Iola giggling and telling Freddie to be careful chimed from the hallway. Jason nodded at the pianist and she began to play just as Iola turned into the room. He watched Freddie let go of his mothers hand as she stepped further into the room, taking everything in. Jason beamed. “Hi.” It wasn’t part of his pre-planned speech but he had now forgotten all of that. He shook his head, chuckled and said hi again. “I saw you before I met you. I used to draw you from across the way in that coffee shop, and from memory when I got home. I wanted to know who you were, so bad.” On the easels, a few of the drawings he’d made of her which had been half-ruined in the rain on the day they met were hanging up. He chuckled again, nervous. He fumbled his way through his speech, forgetting things and making up most of it along the way. He led her outside, where the quartet started to play in time with the tune from the piano. “I know I’m just a giant pain in your arse and you could do way better.” “You’re the best thing to have ever happened me.” She corrected him and he smiled, feeling time slow down around them. He nodded, asking her to repeat and confirm those words. He’d managed to get this far without crying but she was on her way to ruining that. “In that case,” he looked over to Freddie who joined them, holding a diamond ring up for Iola. “Will you do me the honour of making my son legitimate?”

{ v ;; july 17th.

       The sound of rain crashing down from outside felt like the universe playing a sarcastic joke to Zayn. It felt like a movie, like everything was moving impeccably slow and slow music was going to start playing overhead any second to add to the pathetic fallacy of the rain. Playing into his cinematic mood, he went to the window, pressing his head against it as he watched rain drops race each other before dissipating with other drops. When slow music did start playing, faint and distant, Zayn initially thought he was just making it up, like his conscious was playing tricks on him because he was being so dramatic but he realised music was coming from upstairs. He frowned. He’d thought Ari was asleep. They barely spoke after coming home from the wedding but the last he saw her she was silently curling up under the bed covers. Wrapping both hands around the warm mug in his hands, he made his way up the stairs to follow the noise. He pushed open the door to reveal her wrapped up in a blanket at the end of the bed, watching something on the telly. His eyes went to the screen and he realised it was them that she was watching. I Knew I Loved You was playing, and his hands were on her waist and hers wrapped around his neck. It was from some event that Gyhab had put together and while they usually did their best to get out of things like that, they’d ended up at this one. He was dressed in a suit, the collar undone with his chest tattoos showing, and she was dressed to the nines except her hair had fallen down and his blazer was lazily strewn over her shoulders. He couldn’t place what event it was but he recognised from her hair colour that it was when they were happiest together. A few other people were on the dance floor but whoever was recording seemed focused on them and he could see why– they looked mesmerised in each other’s company. The way she was looking at him in the clip made a lump form in his throat. He coughed to clear it, clearly frightening her with his presence when she jumped. “Sorry.” He shrugged awkwardly. He stopped lingering in the doorway and joined her at the end of the bed. Her face looked wet and he spotted her wiping quickly under her eyes and trying not to sniffle but he chose not to comment. She paused the clip and he frowned and asked her to play it from the start since he’d only caught the end and she complied. The song was so romantic and they appeared so in love with one another but watching it now as they sat beside each other like strangers in a waiting room instead of a couple just felt sad. He sighed and shuffled closer to her. He took her hand and when she reciprocated he placed his other hand over theirs linked together. “I knew I loved you before I met you, I have been waiting all my life.” The song played and Zayn found himself humming along. The clip of them dancing together transitioned to a dramatic scene of a fight at the event, dragging the mood down completely. They were silent and he didn’t know what to do, or what to say. “Were you lying tonight?” He watched her turn to look at him. “When we were dancing at Reni’s wedding and you said you were only crying because you couldn’t wait for it to be us? Were you lying?” Zayn knew the answer. He wasn’t an idiot. The whole day had been impossibly awkward, pretending like they were anywhere near as happy as the next-to-wed couple they were supposed to be. Every time someone from her family would approach them and ask about their own wedding, Ari would smile brightly and spill out a new detail she was excited about. Zayn was mostly silent but smiled along with her even though he didn’t share her excitement. He didn’t want to dance but when she asked, it felt like a step forward and he wanted to share that moment with her. He wanted to be close to her even if it was artificial, but it all felt like that and all he could do was pretend like he didn’t know anything was wrong, pretend like he believed her every time she insisted she was okay. He didn’t know what else to do. The air around them felt heavy. She started to shake her head and when she wasn’t looking he rolled his eyes because he knew she was just going to lie to him again. He stood up and faced her. “You’re not happy, Ari. We’re getting married soon and I feel like your roommate, not a husband. You’re not happy with me.” Zayn wanted her to be happy, but he was selfish and wanted that to be exclusively with him. He wanted his presence to make her smile, and make her feel warm inside– like it used to, like she used to make him feel. He knew their relationship was in tatters but he wasn’t ready to give up on it, he just didn’t know what to do about it. She stood up, nearer his level now. “You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.” And for once, she sounded genuine but it seemed a depressing occurrence for him, for all of this to be the best thing for her. “But?” He urged and she shook her head. No ‘but’, he was at least glad of that. He let out a breath and stepped close to her, cupping her face in his hands. He rested his forehead against hers. “I’m tired, Zayn.” She commented. Whenever the words ‘I’m tired’ slipped out of her mouth he had to hold back his sarcasm, or an empty laugh because it was so monotonous. He nodded. “Well, it’s 4am. You should get some sleep.” He knew that wasn’t the kind of tired she meant but ‘I’m tired’ was her segway to the end of a conversation and he knew it. As sad as they were, they ended up in each other’s arms as they settled into the bed. Neither asleep, but holding onto each other was at least a positive sign.

{ v ;; katie and leo.

        Halloween was Katie’s favourite time of the year. She loved to dress up in provocative outfits under the guise of a costume, loved how a girl could literally go out in underwear and add a veil or devil horns and it’s an outfit. She also loved the spook of it all, the wonderment that came with a holiday that had no rules, and different made up monsters. She had a love/hate relationship with scary movies but it was more love-based in October. Her favourite thing at Halloween time, though, was the parties. A house full of people dressed as witches or nurses or even mass murderers, with a shot of tequila in hand was just so amusing to her. She loved to dress up, and loved the compliments she received when she knew her costume was pretty bomb. This evening, it was Leo’s compliments she was seeking after, in the party she and the twins were throwing in their student flat. Eli’s snide comments about her costume meant nothing to her, not when they were matched with Leo interjecting that he loved how she looked. By the end of the night, the party wasn’t seeming to die down but Katie wanted to be alone with Leo. That was the perk of being a tenant in the house where the party was on, she could just escape upstairs and lock the door behind her. The house had Halloween decorations, but Katie’s room was done up in her own special way. She had bats strewn along the walls and pumpkin fairy lights were wrapped around her bed frame. She lit candles while Leo just lay back on her bed. She was looking forward to having this whole week with him. Usually she would go home on the weekends or skip out and miss him, but with college on mid-term she had more time to spend with him. She smiled as she approached him. “Can you believe I pulled the fittest guy here?” She tugged at his shirt to make him sit upright at the end of the bed. “And that’s saying something, Eli’s dorky friends are pretty fucking fit.” She straddled him, her hands placed gently on either side of his neck just as his rested on her hips. Her nails scratched at the nape of his neck, running through his hair there. She smirked when he kissed her, returning the action almost immediately. She pulled away, tilting her head back when his lips went to her neck. “I love when you’re here. I wish you’d come and live with us. I’m sure Eli wouldn’t mind sharing his bed with you.” She snickered and let out a screech when he suddenly turned them around so she was lying under him on the bed now. They were laughing, and having fun just being together when she pulled away and it felt suddenly like the room was going in slow motion, like she was seeing stars and spotlights surrounding him. If she looked hard enough she was sure she could see a real halo floating around his head. She smiled, but it wasn’t seductive or flirty like before. It was a soft smile, and she could feel it in her features too. “You’re my best friend. D’you know that?” Here’s hoping Ava wasn’t listening at the door. Katie giggled, feeling a little embarrassed. It wasn’t as if calling him her best friend was all that much of a confession but it had such a tender meaning behind the words and she knew she’d changed the vibe in the room. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” He retaliated and she hated how she could physically feel her cheeks flush a deep shade of red. She brought her hands to her face, a little mortified. As he tried to pry her hands away, she turned her head to the side, shaking it and laughing. Her eyes landed on the crib by her bed which she never bothers to put away when she doesn’t have Cheryl with her. Her room had a crib by the bed, a toy box in the corner and a playing mat on the floor. It was difficult to explain the furnishing of her room whenever she brought a guy home. It was never her first instinct to detail how she had a one year old daughter who visits her on the weekends. To people she didn’t plan on keeping around for more than a night, which was most of them, she would just say she was a babysitter. A lot of the time people didn’t even notice the crib until the next morning and by that point she was already kicking them out. Last year she’d skipped out on Halloween partying to go home and be with Cheryl, and her dad. This year she didn’t even go home for the week off they got for Halloween. She felt a little guilty but it was why her dad had agreed to look after Cheryl, so Katie wouldn’t miss out on things people her age were doing. She didn’t know why but a wave of sadness hit her and she finally let Leo pry her hands away. She couldn’t help the twisting in her stomach, feeling like Leo would never show her this much affection when she was home to visit Cheryl. Would he be saying the things he was if her daughter was in the crib right now? She was just overthinking, and making this all up in her head but once she let the thundercloud hover, she couldn’t stop the rain. Eventually Leo managed to get Katie to pay attention to him again, quizzing her on where her mind just went. She shook her head and laughed claiming she didn’t know what happened before she pulled him in to kiss her, distracting herself from her bad thoughts.

“You keep staring at me instead of watching the film. What’s up?

{ v ;; the princess and the moon.

       Prince blinks at the sound of Luna’s voice, turning to look at her. He hadn’t expected her to follow him. He also wasn’t expecting her question and he doesn’t have an answer for it. She wasn’t wrong, he was staring at her. It was why he’d just got up and left the living room to go outside and get away. He watches as she shuts the door behind herself and repeats her question, but he still doesn’t answer. He thinks about it. What was up? Why couldn’t he keep his eyes off of her? They’d only slept together a handful of times and it’s not as if he has feelings for her, so what was throwing him off this evening? Looking at her   wasn’t that new to him, she was attractive and he’d always thought so, ever since day one when he first laid his eyes on her.

 “No, she’s not my girlfriend, well not really. Well, yeah okay she kind of is but we technically never agreed that I can’t hook up with other girls.” Prince raised an eyebrow at Nick’s explanation. Nick’s growing presence was starting to feel more like a friendship more than ever lately, his opinions were just as idiotic as Matt’s and he had no problem telling him exactly that. “That’s fucking stupid, Nick. You cheated on her, just admit it.” Prince didn’t understand why his friends kept getting into relationships when they had no interest in staying loyal to the girls they were with. Then again, he himself had never had a girlfriend so what did he know about relationships? Prince rolled his eyes when Nick attempted to continue to excuse himself out of the situation. As he was rolling his eyes, his gaze went past Nick and Matt discussing the technical definition of being  exclusive. Across the cafeteria, Nick’s friend Cassie was sat with someone Prince had never seen before. He couldn’t help but stare–  she was beautiful. She was laughing at something Cassie was saying and the way she smiled mesmerised Prince. He’d never seen anything like it. He could feel his staring getting creepy yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was as if she was moving in slow motion, like a dream sequence in a movie. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and Prince felt like he was watching one of those laundry detergent ads where the flowers and sparkles move with her. She was dressed in the school uniform but it seemed she’d done as much as she could to push the boundaries of the dress code. Her gaze flicked past him when she went to look back to Cassie but she obviously felt him staring because she met his gaze along the way, their eyes locking on one another. He couldn’t tell what her expression was, if she was uncomfortable by his looking or if she was having the same thoughts as he was. Matt snapping his fingers in Prince’s face brought Prince back to the room, his attention returning to his friends. He felt as if he’d just been woken from a nap, dazed and confused. “What?” He snapped. The boys repeated their suggestion of going to the school garden to have a sneaky smoke before lunch break was over. He nodded slowly, pulling his schoolbag over his shoulder. As they passed the table Cassie and the other brunette were sitting at, Nick stopped to talk to Cassie, stealing food from her lunch tray. Prince and Matt carried on walking. Prince looked over his shoulder back to the girl who didn’t seem as amused by Nick as Cassie was. “Who’s that girl sitting with Cass?” He knew Matt was surprised by Prince asking about someone else. Usually, he didn’t care for new students or really anyone at all. Matt shrugged, providing her first name and nothing else as he didn’t actually know that much about her. “Luna?” Prince repeated slowly, ignoring the look on Matt’s face confused by Prince’s intrigue. “Luna Moon.” Nick supplied, joining his friends again. Prince had been looking at Luna but didn’t even notice Nick leaving them to return. The boys pushed the door of the canteen open and Prince finally stopped looking only because he couldn’t anymore. He shook off the disappointment he felt in his stomach now she was out of sight. “She’s Spanish, she just moved here. Her and Cassie act like they’re long-lost sisters or something even though they barely know each other.” Prince scoffed. That concept reminded him of Matt and Nick when they first started hanging out together. Beside him Matt was questioning in Spanish didn’t that make her name Moon Moon, meanwhile Prince was trying to get her face out of his mind. “I think she lives alone, like no parents or anything.” Prince raised his eyebrows, frowning slightly at Nick. “Lives alone? Is she not, like, fourteen?” Nick questioned why Prince cared so much, pointing out how out-of-character it was for him. Prince shrugged, pulling his cigarettes from his bag as they entered the garden, finding their usual bench that hid them from the security cameras. “I don’t care. Just curious.” Silence lingered for a bit before Matt spoke up. “I think she’s fit.” Prince returned to his natural state of ignoring his friends as they talked about girls, but this time his mind was focused on the brunette in the cafeteria that he couldn’t help but think was gorgeous, partly wishing they’d stayed at lunch so he could stare some more.

“I wasn’t fucking staring at you.” He glares at her when she steals the smoke from his hand, unsure why he really lets her do it. He watches her take a pull and for the probably tenth time in the last hour he finds himself absolutely 100% staring again. He catches himself and quickly looks away just as she starts to turn to him, cursing quietly. He knows she’s got an irritating smirk on her face, and he knows she’s more than aware he was lying about staring at her during the movie. He turns to her, his face icy cold now. “We should go back inside before someone wakes up and notices we’re gone.” But he doesn’t for one second mean any of his words because he had in fact been staring, and for a good reason.

{ v ;; no reason.

      It probably shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was when Jason and Iola learned they were going to be parents. They weren’t the most responsible when it came to safe sex. Whenever Jason would forego a condom, he would think more about the fact that they didn’t need protection from STD’s with each other, letting his mind fall ignorant to the possibility of conceiving a child. Jason was that careless that he didn’t even know if Iola had been on contraception. Regardless of their reckless antics in the bedroom, it was still difficult to comprehend that they were going to be parents to their own human baby child. They had created life. It was a power Jason didn’t even know he had the function to follow through on. After a while the hard-to-comprehend and the shock factor of it all faded and Jason was just a mix of nerves and excitement. It  felt like it was taking forever though. He knew pregnancy was a nine-month event but it felt like much more time than nine months had passed since Iola had told him that he was going to be a daddy, a real daddy, and he was getting impatient and also a little concerned. Every day that passed by her due date felt like an additional month. Would the child be ugly if it was overcooked? Have issues? He didn’t know. He tried to read the pregnancy books but after terms, and fluids and different birthing methods, his brain was fried. Easy to say he wasn’t going to be entering the career of an OBGYN anytime soon. He kept his concern to himself, worrying that if he made her worry it would stress out the baby or her womb or something. He watched her, keeping an eye out for any signs of a head or a foot hanging out of her, waiting for her to scream out in pain whenever she so much as reached for the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. She seemed to be fine, suggesting they have a date night in the form of cuddling on the couch and watching a stupid Netflix movie. He agreed but he couldn’t focus on the movie. What if her water broke at any moment and stained the sofa cushions? When Iola rolled her eyes and glared at him, her jumped slightly. “You keep staring at me instead of watching the film, what’s up?” He frowned but decided to just tell her what he was worrying about, knowing she would ease his concerns anyway. “Your due date was this week, I’m just worried you’re going to pop here and now and I’m not going to know what to do. I don’t know if you know this about me but I don’t know how to deliver a baby.” She was the one going through the discomfort of an overdue pregnancy yet he felt her hand on his back, shushing him and soothing him. She was making him feel better when he probably shouldn’t have been making this whole thing about him thinking the baby was overcooking. He had a lot of questions that he knew were too stupid to ask but he just didn’t understand the miracle of giving life, admittedly. She reassured him that her obstetrician would have informed them if there was anything worth getting worked up over yet, which she hadn’t. He nodded. “So you’re not going to ruin this movie by having a baby?” He chuckled when she seemed to get exasperated with him, leaning across to kiss her to make up for his idiocy. He stole some popcorn from the bowl that was sitting on top of her bump and grinned, his nerves once again overtaken by excitement.

{ v ;; katie and leo.

      It was easy to slip away from the group when snacks were being passed around. Katie slipped through the kitchen door and made her way to the front of the house, perching herself on the front step of Matt and Panda’s home. She liked coming here, it was luxurious and she liked to imagine someday owning such a beautiful home herself. Apparently Pandora had been forcing her brother and friends to have movie nights like this since they were teens, and Katie liked that the tradition extended to the kids. Katie was perturbed from her own thoughts when she heard the door click behind her. She didn’t even need to turn to see who it was, Leo spoke before she could. She shrugged when he asked what she was doing out here, letting out a sigh. Katie felt sad. That was the best way of describing it. She wasn’t depressed, or drowning in misery. She was just sad. She felt Leo drop to the step beside her, his leg brushing up beside hers. Involuntarily, she shivered. She watched as he pulled his jacket from around himself and placed it over her shoulders while also wrapping her up in his arms. “Cheesy.” She chuckled. Katie adored Leo-- all other dramas aside, she was so appreciative of his friendship. She lay her head on his chest and let out a sigh. "I  noticed that you keep staring at me instead of watching the film. What’s up?” She rolled her eyes and slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re gorgeous Leo but I wasn't staring at you, I was looking at everyone. You and your parents, the Kings.” She let out a sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. Silence lingered for a bit and Leo questioned what she meant, what was wrong with her. “I don’t know.” She felt pathetic when her eyes welled up and her voice cracked slightly, not expecting this emotional response. “If I tell you then you’re just going to argue with me and tell me I’m wrong.” Katie pressed her fingers under her eyes so no tears would fall down and ruin her eyeliner. She didn’t really feel like crying anyway. She spared him a glance when he encouraged her to go on. Her lip sunk beneath her teeth as she considered it for a moment but there wasn’t a version of this universe where Katie wouldn’t share her thoughts with Leo-Valentin. “I love coming here. Matt and Panda are so nice to me, and so are your parents. But” she paused and shrugged. “I just feel like an outsider sometimes. Me and my dad are just, like— there. You’re all this big family and then me and dad are just these two tag-alongs.” Katie wondered if her mother was alive would she feel this way whenever Matt and Panda threw some big party or got everyone together, if she had their own full family. She let out a sad laugh. “It’s stupid, I know. I don’t always feel like this. It’s just—” She looked at him again, appreciative that he was letting her rant. “Sometimes I just feel so disconnected from you lot.” She felt Leo’s arm around her pull her in closer and she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, tucking her face into the crook of his neck, despite how her makeup would probably stain his shirt. When Leo went to speak, she sat upright and her eyes met his. Katie already knew what he would say to her, she expected him to disagree with everything she said about being an outsider. She really didn’t want to sit through that, so she kissed him to shut him up instead. Giggling at his surprised reaction, she pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him to the ground and falling down with him. If she hadn’t gotten his shirt dirty before she definitely would now. Messing around with Leo, laughing with and kissing him was all the distraction she needed from her little crisis. So distracted, in fact, neither of them heard the front door opening and someone walking out until– “Seriously?” An irritated voice interrupted them and Katie pulled away from Leo with a hushed giggle as her eyes landed on his dad standing in the porch doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised. Katie couldn’t help but think that the scowl on his face suited him. Her face flushed as Leo sat up, fixing his hair that Katie had messed up by running her hands through it. Prince held out a hand to help them both up and Katie didn’t hesitate in wrapping hers around his. “If it was your dad that just found you two out here, I’d be down a kid.” The stern tone of voice Prince used when scolding them did nothing but make Katie’s cheek flush further. She smirked, lower lip sliding under her teeth as she shrugged, batting her eyelashes innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just in the loo.” She brushed past the Jameson men, hand catching onto and letting go of Leo’s in an instance. She looked back at them just in time to catch Prince fixing Leo’s hair for him. She was feeling somewhat better, now.

#me ignoring the first prompt to write whatever? sounds just like me #its also a lot less luna prince more squad but you'll get over it #I also really struggled with that last one #but had to include Katies crush on prince its been a while #{ v ;; the princess and the moon. #{ v ;; no reason. #{ v ;; phases. #{ ;; july 17th. #beencaughts #memed

[styleslot]

Loss

It seemed nearly impossible to grasp a hold of what had just happened. Watching a loved one slip into eternal rest, feeling the weight of their hand in yours grow heavy, it was terrifying. The moment they slipped away, you disappeared into yourself.

           Nurses came in, causing you to silently slip out of the room and out into the hallway, standing just adjacent to the closed door. You didn’t turn around when the medical professionals opened it, you didn’t hear anything that they were trying to explain to you. Nodding numbly, you remember telling them of your sister’s wishes to be cremated, signing some papers and leaving.

           You had to sit in your car for a moment, wondering how safe it was to actually drive home. You were still aware of your surroundings and aware of what was going on. Numb to any emotions, you started up your car. Your current goal? Get to your house from the hospital.

           The radio remained off, the car silent other than the whir of the engine and the crackle of rocks under your tires. The silence kept you focused, all the way up until you pulled into your driveway. There was a sudden feeling of exhaustion that hit when you pulled your keys out of the ignition. A part of you in the back of your mind perhaps felt bad that you weren’t sobbing or screaming at some transient being for taking your sister away so young. But with the loss of both of your parents in the last two years as well, all you could be is numb.

           You felt like the universe was punishing you for something you could have done that was so horrible and so nasty. What could you have possibly done that something felt the need to take everyone you loved away from you? Looking for something or someone to blame, you slipped out of your car and locked it, dragging your feet up to the front door of your apartment. Scanning yourself in, you walked to the elevator and managed to get up into your apartment. You suppose you could find some peace knowing that no one had lived with you at the time of their passing. It meant that at least one aspect of your life wasn’t changed, or wasn’t effected by past events.

           Turning on the television, just for some noise, you went into your kitchen and opened the fridge, staring blankly in at its contents. Were you hungry? Not really. Thirsty? Very much. There was an open water bottle, have drank, but good enough. It quenched your thirst enough for you to flop on the couch and relax.

           Hours past, and the sun set over the city. Sleep was something you already knew would be elusive. Laying out across the couch, your phone began to buzz with texts from one person, Harry.

           Your boyfriend of two years was texting, checking in. He had known your sister had been ill, and he had known things were not going the way they were supposed to, but you hadn’t told him the news.

           ‘not sure if you’re back yet love, text me when you can x’

           ‘darling?’

           ‘just let me know… hopefully things are okay?’

           You read through the three messages and pursed your lips together. You weren’t 100% sure if this was something you wanted to bring him into this yet. However, there would be suspicions if you just kept ignoring him. Harry was amazing with the sensitive subject of your sisters illness, giving you space and being patient with everything. But even the best of people would want answers. It was just a matter of if you were going to give them to him sooner rather than later. You couldn’t run away from him now. Not when he was really the only person you had left.

           ‘come over?’ You texted him back, simple. Texting him about the passing seemed inappropriate.

           ‘okay x’

           If he was at his place, it would take him 15 minutes to get to your place. You had 15 minutes to figure out if and how you were going to explain the situation to him. There was a lingering thought in the back of your mind that thought if you just acted like it didn’t happen, it would go away and you could go and act normal. As soon as he knocked on the door, however, the pang in your gut you expected hours earlier hit.

           He came through after a couple of seconds, greeted with the image of you standing in the entrance way into the living room, your sleeves pulled over your hands. He looked at you for a moment, and you knew he knew. He just gave you a look and you nodded your head before dropping it. He shut the door behind him and cleared his throat, coming across towards you. You lifted your head up when you felt his hands rest against your upper arms, his thumbs running across the front of them. His grip was firm, but at that moment, it was the only thing holding you up.

           You hadn’t felt the true effect, and you were beginning to regret inviting him over. His presence was giving you the safety to actually feel the loss. And you hated it. So much, you hated feeling the sadness and the heaviness in your chest. It felt like such a burden, her death was such a burden. Your brows furrowed now, not with sadness but with anger. An intense anger at her for getting sick, for dying. And you hated her! You hated her for leaving you, for going so close after your parents had, for making you suffer!

           “It’s not fucking fair!” you choked out, strangled by the thick lump in your throat.

           “Y/N…”

           “She didn’t get to leave me like that! She was all I had! She was all I fucking had!” you were yelling, you were crying, and Harry’s grip had tightened on your arms as he listened. “How fucking selfish huh? That she just gave up and left? How could she do that to me?!”

           And maybe you weren’t angry at her, but you needed someone to blame. Someone who had hurt you, who had left you with no family.

           Harry held onto your arms, despite you struggling against him. Your hands were clenched into fists, your nails digging against your palm.

           And you finally gave up.

           A large gasp of air, mixed with a gut wrenching sob as you fell against him, his arms flying around you. It was hard for him to watch, but if he let you go now, he might not have been able to get you back on his own.

           Your hands gripped at his sides, clutching onto the fabric of his t-shirt. His temple pressed against the side of your head, eyes squeezed shut as his heart clenched at the sound of you crying. His heart was breaking, but it couldn’t have been anything compared to the way you were feeling. Both of you now, held onto each other for stability. Your body was letting all of the despair it had been holding on, not only from today, but for two years. You needed Harry, because he was really all you had left.

#harry styles #harry #styles #imagine #one shot #angst #harry styles imagine

[homesoutofhuman]

Part 8 - How am I supposed to live without you?

John enters your room and almost stumbles back from the fragrance. Your room is filled with lilies, white and some pink, overflowing from expensive crystal vases. Even Nora’s bed is surrounded by them since there are so many.

He comes to your bedside. “I don’t want to be a killjoy but this isn’t really acceptable. This is a hospital...there are rules...”

You bite your lip, anxious. “I’m so sorry...Santino didn’t tell me he was going to do this…”

John’s gaze softens when he looks at you. “Tell you what. Pick one vase to keep and we can distribute the rest among the ward patients. There are some people who never get flowers…”

You feel guilty again so just nod, keeping your eyes low and feeling ashamed at how John must see you, spoilt and shallow.

He finds a place to sit not taken over with flowers. “He must really love you….to go to all this trouble.”

You snort. “His assistant will have had the trouble I’m sure…”

John looks even more perplexed at your reaction and you feel the need to explain.

“I’m sorry...Dr Wick…” somehow you don’t dare call him John since he’s being so stern with you. “I sound ungrateful...but this is just how our marriage is. Outward displays of grandiose affection with little behind them.”

John looks concerned and you know you’re babbling, know he has better things to do, but then he leans in closer.

“Listen, we’re friends aren’t we? You can tell me anything…”

Oh...back to that..

You feel a shock of sadness, you know your marriage is over but you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. Your feelings for John are strong and confusing, so new and delicate like a wild flower, so you just stare at him with sorrowful eyes.

John chucks you under the chin. “We’re going on an adventure.”

You sit up, looking at him questioningly. “Great. But where?”

John moves to the side of your bed and you place your arms on his shoulders, using him to lift yourself up. He wraps an arm around your waist and holds you steady, you never realised how strong he was.

John guides you gently, you sigh against his neck and he feels himself growing warm just from having you in his arms. He tries to concentrate on getting you out of the ward without accident.

“Are you kidnapping me John?” you ask, thinking of Santino’s face if he happened to come and find you gone.

John laughs. “If I were we’d be getting out of this hospital as fast as possible…”

You catch his mood, giggling as well, your stress about the flowers and Santino not coming to visit forgotten. “Where would we go, John?”

He pretends to ponder the question seriously. “How about...Napa Valley? Great wine...sunshine...we could hire an open top car...play good music and sing along...I’d love to hear you sing again.”

You sigh, almost going weak in his arms at the image he conjures up. “Sounds amazing...a great road trip with friends…”

John frowns a bit, nodding, but his eyes stray to your lips remembering how it felt to kiss you. “I’ve got to make you better first…”

“I feel okay…” you let him go and show him how you can stand on your own. John gives you a sceptical look, staying close ready to catch you at any moment and you poke your tongue out at him.

“Leave me be Doctor! Stop fussing!” you playfully push at him and he grabs you, tickling you into submission until you’re giggling, laid back in his arms, still trying to push him away weakly.

He stares down at you, your flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, your chest rising and falling with rapid shaky breathes. You catch his eye and stop smiling, bringing a hand to caress his handsome face.

“John…” you try to convey all your longing and regret in one gaze, and he nods almost in answer, nuzzling his nose against yours but leaving your mouth alone.

There is a loud cough and you grab John’s arm, worried he will drop you. Of course he doesn’t, tightening his hold, sliding a hand on your back and lifting you upright again.

Nora is regarding you both with a sceptical look. “I know you came to visit me but I’m not feeling the centre of attention at the moment…”

You push John away, missing his offended look and rush to her. “Nora! How are you?”

She waves away your concerns. “Never mind that...tell me the gossip back on the ward...has that guy with the Harry Styles hair gone home yet?”

You nod and she scoffs. “Too bad.”

John leaves you to catch up and when he returns 20 minutes later he finds Nora napping in bed. You’re sitting in the chair beside the bed stroking her hand and looking sad. He sighs and moves to lead you away. Nora shifts in her sleep but doesn’t wake, John pulls you towards the canteen, watching you with concern.

“Maybe the visit wasn’t such a good idea…”

“No...she liked it I think, she just got tired quickly from the excitement.”

You look worn and pale and John curses himself. “I meant for you...it was meant to make you feel better but you look worse..”

“Oh thanks.“ you say sarcastically, sliding into a booth in the corner of the hospital canteen. “Can you get me a coffee...please?” you put on your best wide eyed Disney stare and John rolls his eyes.

“I was going to anyway...no need to break out the lashes…” he mutters under his breath, moving to buy two cups of fresh coffee and a muffin. He remembers when he was last in here, with your husband, and the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He comes back to you, urging you to eat. You sip your coffee and pick at the muffin halfheartedly. “Nora wouldn’t tell me John, but she’s really sick isn’t she?”

He sighs. “You know I can’t discuss another patient’s medical issues with you.”

“Oh.” you look down, frowning and waiting for him to scold you more. Instead you feel a hand on top of yours, rubbing your knuckles.

“I’m sorry Y/N...it’s the way it is…”

You look back up. “I know...please don’t be mad at me…”

“I’m not mad. What are you talking about?” John snorts a bit in disbelief, the thought he could ever be angry at you seems preposterous, then something clicks in his mind.

“Does Santino get angry at you?”

You shrug. “Sometimes…” John’s eyes go murderous and you rush to reassure him. “He never hurt me John…”

John makes a low growl in his throat. “If he did I think I’d kill him.”

“You’re a doctor...you swore an oath not to hurt people.” you remind him gently, but feel your heart swell at his words. “But...thank you...I appreciate it.”

John glares at an invisible Santino, finishing his coffee. “He neglects you though...I’ve seen it.”

“As you said...it’s not fair to discuss him with you John...can we talk about something else?” you plead again and he relents.

“Sure. Eat your muffin.”

You roll your eyes but shove a large piece on your mouth. “You’re trying to fatten me up..”

John smirks. “Anything to stop you leaving…”

You gasp, almost choking on the muffin and immediately his face falls. 

“Sorry...I….I know you have to leave it’s just...I’m going to miss you…”

You feel like crying, speaking in a small voice. “Me too….”

John can see his world crumbling before him and he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t want to scare you off with the intensity of his feelings, but he cannot let the chance pass him by.

“I think we should talk...not here…” he glances around the canteen full of his colleagues and knows what he wants to say would lose his job instantly if overheard.

“Outside?”

He leads you to the hospital garden and you spy the flowers he picked for you, they mean more to you than the hundreds of dollars worth of fancy blooms sent by your husband you feel a depression settle on your heart.

You sit on the bench side by side and rest your head on his shoulder. John strokes your hair, savouring the moment. You relax into him, sliding you arms around his waist and cuddling him like a teddy bear, a very attractive teddy bear but still. He smells like rain and he feels like hope.

He turns to you, running his eyes over your face. “I never thought I’d be the kind of man to suggest this, but I also never knew I could want something so much as I want you so...” he holds up a hand to stop you interrupting.

“...so I’m asking you...be with me...give me a chance...and we will keep it a secret. It’s not fair of me to ask you to choose, we hardly know each other..but I cannot live without you anymore...”

“I....” you feel overwhelmed by his sudden declaration, your instinct is to run away and John senses it, holding you tight against him. 

“I don’t know John...” you whimper, tears coming to your eyes as the conflict rages in your heart.

He gives you a longing look, his eyes full of emotion and desire, and before you can even say another world he grabs your face in his large hands and kisses you passionately.

His tongue is in your mouth, erasing all protests, any rational argument, and you let yourself drown in him, his warmth, his want. He kisses you as if it may be the last time, and the intensity makes your head spin. Santino always kissed you lazily, as if assuming the next kiss would always be there whenever he chose to want it. John’s sweet desperation is turning you on like nothing else and you kiss him back then, letting go. 

When John feels you respond he groans into your mouth, grasping you eagerly and you feel a rush of power that comes with affecting such a gorgeous man. His eyes rake over your body and see him lick his lips.

“I feel....dizzy...” you whimper and he presses his fingers against your neck to take your pulse.

“You’re fine baby....” he whispers, brushing your lips again and you realise...this is what true desire feels like.

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

Heal the pain masterlist

#heal the pain #john wick x you #john wick x reader

[outoftheassparlor]

This is a story about abortion.

I’ve told this story to myself and others in a hundred different ways. I’ve told it as a woman who was almost a mother and then wasn’t and will never be. I’ve told it as a woman who laid dying in a hospital bed after her fallopian tube ruptured to have a male doctor, in front of his students, ask how she knew she was pregnant.

I’ve told it as a cautionary tale against smoking and about worst case scenarios. I’ve told it as a person who received a blood transfusion and how meaningful that experience is. I’ve told it as a woman whose medical bills could have been around $50,000 after she got out of the hospital if not for insurance.

Now I’m going to tell it as a story about abortion.

My pregnancy was never viable even though it was wanted. We tried for 5 years to have a child and when it finally happened we were terrified, thrilled and frankly surprised. We’d given up. I wanted a girl and we picked out names. We immediately made appointments and cancelled allergy shots and called doctors about medications.

I will always regret telling people I was pregnant before the ultrasound.

We went in sure everything was fine but after a while it became clear something was wrong. I heard “how do you know you’re pregnant?” for the first time from the tech.

Well, maybe the 5 fucking pregnancy tests we took the day before and after.

But the tech couldn’t find an embryo and there’s a part of me that thinks she thought I was making it up.

I went home and searched and searched the Internet. My doctor guessed I was about 7-8 weeks along and at least 2 of those weeks were full of binge drinking and late nights. I found a lot of reassuring things, that the little blueberry with hands may have just been hiding and would appear. The tech might have been inexperienced or I may have drunk too much water.

The baby-less sonogram was delivered to my doctor anyway.

Her office called and told me I needed to come in soon and I did. Thankfully my husband was available and came with me and that’s when she told me the pregnancy was ectopic.

I didn’t even know what meant and as she coldly explained what happened to me I broke down and sobbed. She looked at me curiously like, why are you so upset? And then I had a decision to make. Did I want a shot? We asked her every question we could about whether “the pregnancy” could be saved. It couldn’t. The embryo just wasn’t in the right place and it had to go. This shot could kill it and potentially prevent damage and a life threatening situation.

Eventually we made the decision that yes I’d have the methotrexate shot. We carried the prescription to the charmingly named Apothecary and left. It would take them about 30 minutes they said. It wasn’t in stock and they had to get it from another pharmacy.

They told me my insurer didn’t cover the shot for the reason it was prescribed so I’d have to pay the full $20. I laughed at the injustice through my tears and handed over my debit card.

Until that moment I’d quit smoking but I gave up giving up. We went to the shop across the street run by a nice Korean couple and bought a pack of American Spirit golds. We setup shop at a small bar at the corner and I sobbed and smoked and my husband stared on.

Eventually we got a call from my doctor, the shot was delivered and it was time. We crossed the street again and went to the office. I tried to joke with the medical assistant that my husband was going to have a vasectomy and that I hoped there were no contraindications with alcohol. There were, as it turned out.

I went back into the office and the doctor had me pull down my pants so they could stab me with the needle. I was ordered to have blood work taken to monitor hormone levels to see if the shot was successful in stopping cell production and so I did.

That weekend to cheer me up we went to the Oregon State Fair and walked around. I didn’t go on any rides but we saw the animals, watched the horse competitions and wandered around the expo hall. The usual fair exhibitors were there; MLMs seeking suckers, vitamin blenders, skincare products with fancy names and craftsmen. There were also the non profits and those included Oregon Right to Life. Their booth was actually in front of the doors. Huge posters with grotesque images of embryos and fetuses at eye level right as you walked in.

It was the last thing I wanted to see and it made me so angry. I had just, 3 days earlier, had an abortion so I could save my life and there was no way these people could ever understand.

I walked out and sat on a concrete fence and cried. I hated them so much. I hated the Catholic priests that were against the treatment that might have saved me. I hated them for their callousness. All I wanted to do was look at the quilts.

We tried to shake it off and I went to a palm reader who said to me “you just lost a child” and I was shocked. I’m still convinced she must have seen me crying and made a guess. Regardless she risked a lot by telling that fortune. She really could have ended up laid out on the floor.

All the while I tried to keep my chin up and just get through it. That’s all I wanted to do was get through it. I didn’t know what that meant but just through.

A couple days after the fair I laid in the fetal position in the bathroom at work. At 1:33 pm I felt something go. I couldn’t tell you what it was but at 1:32 I didn’t feel well but was ok and at 1:33 I wasn’t ok. I was overwhelmed by pain I hadn’t experienced before or since. Somehow I still walked the 3 blocks to get my painkillers so I could stay at work. That’s how I ended up on the floor. I was desperate for the oxycodone I’d been prescribed to take effect. It didn’t

My employer paid for a taxi home and I laid on the couch. I found the pain wasn’t as bad when I was on my side. The doctor told me there was going to be pain. So there was pain and as a woman I was used to being in pain at least once a month so I just had to get through this and be strong.

I took more painkillers and managed to sleep but the next day even being on my side was painful. My husband called my doctor for a stronger prescription.

The doctor told him I needed to come in right away.

I chose this particular clinic because they were two blocks away from our apartment. I could drop by for my appointment and either get home early or hop on the street car to get downtown. The location made it all very easy. But after I found I couldn’t go back upstairs out of sheer agony we booked a car share to go that two blocks and get me to my appointment.

As I sat in the waiting room I noticed the anxiety in another patient’s eyes when she looked my way.

The pain just kept coming. No amount of leaning or changing sides made it better. When I finally saw my smart but lacking in humor doctor she asked if I was experiencing any pain. As I lay on the exam table unable to open my eyes I replied “no, everything’s just fine.”

The hospital was across a breezeway and they pushed me over. After some argument about whose wheelchair I should be in I was in a room in the ER and somehow in a gown with tubes in and out of my arm. At one point I noticed a bruise on my wrist and how perfectly smooth my skin was. I thought my arm looked just like a doll’s.

Someone’s surgery was bumped and they got me in. I signed papers and didn’t know what they said. A man who I never did find out his name squeezed my hand and told me I was going to be ok. I still cry thinking about how for about two seconds that made me feel better. The rest of the time I was just pain in human form. There was no room for fear or sadness, there was only blinding, all consuming, pain.

I woke up from my surgery in a recovery room with a nice nurse who hooked me up for a blood transfusion. I was surprised at how cold the blood was and overwhelmed at the knowledge someone else’s blood was in my body. I also felt relief. I wasn’t in pain anymore.

They took care of me in the hospital. I had a second transfusion that had some issues thanks to new transfusion software. I laughed because IT problems followed me even close to death.

My surgeon came and told me she’d done a D&C, or dilation and curettage, because after everything I’d been through she didn’t want me to bleed heavily after I got out of the hospital.

I call this the abortion that almost was because there are what ifs where the methotrexate shot would have taken me out of the very dangerous situation I ended up in. Even a surgical extraction of the pregnancy, or another kind of abortion, would have prevented the situation. But I was very unlucky. We found out I was pregnant too late. Even at 7 weeks I only vaguely showed symptoms. I didn’t vomit and I was no more or less moody than normal. I even spotted in between and I chalked that up to normal period weirdness during times of stress. It was only a vague sense of nausea around 10 am everyday for a week that tipped me off.

I was lucky enough to have doctors that had options and were smart and could act quickly. If abortion rights are taken from us will doctors be able to provide us with the options I had? The shot would probably be right out. Would they even be able to extract a pregnancy from a fallopian tube or would that upset the anti choice crowd? Would the hospital where the procedure was performed be allowed to ban partial salpingectomies because it impacts my fertility? Would they be able to treat me at all with my history of smoking and even smoking while pregnant because I didn’t know.

I don’t think it’s a question anymore that some of the things that were available to me won’t be protected in the very near future. I think the question now is at what point in this story about pregnancy and abortion would the people coming to power have let me die?

#tw: abortion #abortion\ #miscarriage #ectopic pregnancies #ectopic #antichoice

[lalalarisssaaa]

The Truth About Losing Your Mom At a Young Age.

Lately I’ve ignored friends who needed me, friends who were there for me and friends who I never wanted to hurt. 

But the thing is, lately I’m not the person who I was before October 16th, 2017. Before that day I was a dedicated graduate trying to save money for college, make my parents proud and a backbone for a lot of people. Today, and everyday since I’ve been a shell of a person you once knew. 

A mother carries you inside of her body for 9 months and then dedicates her soul to raising you, caring for you and loving you no matter what it takes. And my mom? She was one who would kill anyone who hurt the people she loved. 

She’d sing to me when I was little. 

She’d hold me when I cried.

She would do anything for me. 

When you’re 18 you don’t think about when the last time you’ll talk to one of your parents, when you’ll last see them. But nothings promised and the big guy doesn’t plan around your needs. 

People say it gets easier with time and that you’ll be okay again, but how would they know if they didn’t plan their Mothers funeral at 18? When you lose your mother, you don’t just lose another person. You lose the woman who gave you life, the woman who was there for everything and the women who is supposed to guide you through life. You stop being mothered. For me, a 18 year old female I lost the woman I’d tell first if I ever got pregnant, I lost the woman I’d call when I didn’t know how much flower to put in a batch of cookies. 

Losing your Mother is like losing a piece of your soul that you can never replace or let alone get back. 

It’s not having anyone you’d want to talk to when you go through a break up. 

It’s not having someone comfortable to talk to about changes to your body. 

It’s about losing your support system, well at least a giant part of it. 

it’s calling her phone at 4am just to hear her voice for a few seconds because it’s the only thing that allows you to remember.

It’s losing sight of the good memories, the ones where she was alive and happy.

It’s about being angry at your dead mother for leaving you. 

It’s not remembering what her voice sounds like, what her face looks like because all that’s left in your brain is what she looked like when you lost her.

It’s not showering for a week and sleeping till 4 or 5 in the afternoon because without her there's no reason to get out of bed even though you know she’d want you to continue living your life. 

It’s spending countless nights thinking of a way to kill yourself without it being suicide so your family doesn’t think they missed something.

It’s having everything under the sun to talk about and less than a handful of people who’d understand.

It’s walking into grocery stores and hearing how sorry someone is for you loss 6 months down the road and revisiting the exact moment you lost her. 

It’s taking this piece of paper that declares her dead around to banks, companies and lawyers to figure out her financials.

It’s not knowing how to plan a funeral because you’re not even old enough to drink yet.

It’s holidays without your moms home cooked meal.

It’s watching her Birthday pass and not being able to celebrate because she’s not here and it’s not right without her. 

it’s never eating her secret recipes that are your favorite because she didn’t get to teach you them yet. 

It’s calling her dad to tell him that she’s gone. It’s calling every family member to let them know. 

It’s writing a news paper article for your mom and not knowing what to say because even though you got 18 years together you don’t know everything you want to write about her. 

For me I watched my mother die, slowly and over the course of months without even knowing what was about to come.

For me it’s your brain replaying the moments leading up to, and every decision you made in those moments that lead to her dying. It’s regretting every angry teenager blow out of “ I hate you!” and the little arguments about something that didn't matter five minutes later. It’s blaming yourself for the death of your mother. It’s laying in bed until you no longer can because you just don’t feel like living. It’s avoiding her gravesite because something inside you says that it’s just a bad dream and tomorrow morning she’ll call you. It’s drinking so much alcohol you’re covered in your own vomit while telling your friends you want to drive your car into a tree so you can see your mom again. It’s smoking a pack a day because if they played a role in her death, I could just smoke until I drop dead myself. It’s almost giving up 5 years self harm free because although you are feeling empty, sad, tired and confused you’re completely numb to your own emotions and the only thing you can feel is pain. It’s finally admitting to your doctors that you need help and being put on medications for depression, anxiety and insomnia just to stare at those bottles every night and wonder what would happen if you took all 48 pills at once.

It’s losing the 2 weeks of coping skills / ways to deal with Depression and Anxiety that you knew so well when you were released from the hospital at 13.

It’s falling back into that dark hole you thought you escaped. 

It’s also everything you are used to doing reminding you of her which leads to a mental breakdown. It’s not being able to listen to any type of music without crying. It’s shutting out all of your friends with moms because you just cant stand to hear about their fights with their mom, what they did with their mom that day or the word mom at all. It’s canceling plans and taking your sleeping meds at 7am so you can just ignore the world for one more day. It’s losing your job because you’re so distracted with pain and grief that you just cant stand at a register and watch all the little kids shop with their mommas. It’s listening to people tell you how much you look like her and that it’s tragic she wont be there for your wedding or kids. It’s not wanting kids or a marriage because how do you do those things without your mom? 

It’s starring into a mirror and noticing little things about yourself that are like her and hating it because it’s just another reminder that she’s gone.

It’s waking up everyday, getting out of bed and still feeling like you’re standing in place at the end of that hospital bed and watching everyone else around you move on while you’re stuck with an image of your dead mother.

It’s breaking down into tears at random moments through out the day and not knowing way. 

It’s seeing a mom die on a TV show or Movie and laying there, hugging yourself while you try to hold it together. 

And when your mother was the only parent who truly supported your decisions, goals and dreams it’s like losing both parents. 

It’s your father not asking if you’re okay.

It’s feeling like your entire world has fallen apart and there is no one left to save you.

It’s constantly feeling like you’re chained to the bottom of the ocean and unable to breathe, and just when it can’t get worse it does, and sometimes you get a gasp of air but it doesn’t ever last.

It’s wanting to die, but not being able to do anything about it or anything to ease the pain in a way your brain wants to because you cant disappoint her. You’re better than that. 

It’s a never ending battle.

But,

Don’t get me wrong, there a good days in between stretches of bad days, but those good days bring guilt because how am I happy knowing that my mother is dead and I'm down here living? It’s hating people because they are alive and she’s not. The good days are there, but the bad days out weigh them.

Losing a parent is something that you just don’t expect and there is nothing that can prepare you for the pain and suffering that comes along with it. But if there is one thing you can do about it, is take in every waking moment you have with them and enjoy it. Enjoy the fights, enjoy the annoying over protective parenting skills and enjoy the fact that you still have them. Tell them you love them, that you care about them and celebrate them giving you the ability to do that, the ability to live. Because there will come a day where every single thing that ever happened between you and your parents will be a memory and you wont get the chance to create another. And when that day comes, you’ll regret not doing those things enough. 

It is a constant battle that I am still learning how to fight and one I’m still learning to want to win. 

So to the friends I’ve mistreated since, to the friends who feel forgotten and unappreciated, it’s not true. I think about you everyday, I miss you all everyday, but lately I barley have the energy to care for myself. I barley have the energy to keep myself alive. And I hope you understand that it’s not something you did and it’s not that I’m not here, I just need to be here for me, find who I am and get back on my feet before I take care of you. I’m not trying to be selfish, I just can not juggle your needs and my needs. Someday it might be easier, but I will never breathe without thinking about the death of my person. and please understand that my anger and jealousy that you still have your moms isn’t personal, I just wish I still had mine. So I’m sorry I’m so lost. I’m sorry I cant be the friend you need me to be, just know that if you’re ever in my shoes I will fight this battle with you because this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through in my life.

#personal #losing a parent #motherless #loss #grief #mental health

[danaspamm]

Crimson Part 2

When visitation hours were over around 9PM, I went home that night with tears falling down my eyes in the front seat of my mom’s car. I didn’t speak to her the whole way home. The doctors said it could take three months for the wound to heal so he would have to give up football for the rest of the season and pretty much give up his livelihood for the next year.

I went straight to my room and closed the door, changing into shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in, then turning off my lights and climbing into bed, putting in headphones and listening to something to try and put myself to sleep, but the thought of Anon lying on the concrete with a gunshot wound kept playing on repeat in my mind.

The box that Anon had given me sat on my nightstand, untouched. I didn’t plan on opening it until he could witness it.

When I finally fell asleep, it was 1AM even though I was wanting to go to sleep as soon as my had touched the pillow.

As I woke up, the cold, dark clouds left grey light flowing through my window. I checked the time. 3PM.

The hours flew by as I continued to listen to music through my headphones and stared up at the ceiling, occasionally closing my eyes and trying to fall back asleep while the cold air from the fan pressed against my arms and head. I didn’t get any messages the whole day and when I tried to check Instagram or Snapchat, all I saw was how sorry people felt for Anon and how they were so heartbroken over what happened to him even though half of the people who were posting weren’t close to him.

I finally got the courage to get dressed for the day and get my mom to drive me to the hospital.

I knocked on the door just like the day before and walked over to his bedside. He was sleeping much like before. HIs father and sister had left, supposedly at home

My hand pushed his hair back, the softness of it drifting over my palm. His eyes slowly opened and made contact with mine. No smile on his face. Just a look of dullness and boredom.

“Hey.”He whispered, pulling the sheets over him and sighing, “I go home tomorrow.”

He was finally smiling and my heart was filled with reassurance and content. ~=~ “What were you thinking when you got shot?”I mustered up the courage to ask as I rested my head on his shoulder.

We were sitting on his couch in the living room and watching Lifetime movies while his mom Wass making dinner in the kitchen behind us.

“I was thinking of you…Naomi and my parents and how they would deal with it. Too many things to count, really.”

(I like the name Naomi….It’s cute)

His mom was walking around the kitchen and pulling things out of cabinets. The only thing I could think of was how hard she was working to keep her son happy while he was dealing with the traumatic event. I stopped by to check on him after school had ended and tried to keep his mind off of things.

While his dad was at work, his mom would sometimes ask me to redress his wound because it was “just too painful to look at.” I didn’t blame her for saying it. She was right, it was painful and it was even harder to watch as he looked over at me with a dull look in his eyes.

I sat on the bathroom’s countertop and watched him as he lifted his shirt up, then started staring at the wound in the mirror. Almost as if he was examining it and trying to connect the dots of something I wasn’t quite sure of.

“That’s pretty,” I paused, “morbid,” I whispered. Taking out the first-aid kit, I pulled out the necessary creams and medical tapes that the doctor had told him to use.

“Here comes the fun part.”He bit his lip.

Tears started forming in my eyes for a moment, but I was quick to wipe them away without him noticing. My chest felt heavy and light all at the same time.

“Why are you crying?”

Busted.

“I don’t know.”I laughed, wrapping my arms around his torso, attempting to pull him closer. The warmth of his chest radiated onto my cheek. I could hear his heart beating. Small waves of tiredness fell over me as I rubbed his back, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be crying, not me.”I chuckled and pulled away.

Once I had re-dressed him, we both left the bathroom and went to his room. Trophies and various pictures lined his dresser that stood against the plain, white walls of his bedroom. His bed was covered with navy blue sheets and grey pillows-firm, but soft enough to sink your head into.

I sat next to Anon as he played video games, occasionally putting my hand on his knee or pushing my hand through his hair as an attempt to comfort him. He rejected me and politely moved my hand away. He’d say something along the lines of, “I’m trying to focus.” Or, “Stop being so nice.”

He’d been playing online with friends from school and every time someone had been defeated, I would hear loud screams of other players coming through his headset, or Anon would become aggravated, but end up still playing anyways.

“I think your mom’s done with dinner,” I said, quiet and timid. He didn’t respond. 

He obviously didn’t hear me, but I continued watching him play for a few more moments.

“Anon?”I said a bit louder. He moved one cuff of his headset from his ear and hummed.

“I said I think your mom’s done with dinner.”

“I’m not eating.”

“You have to eat, I don’t want you to stave.”I tried to remain sweet and kind.

“Well, if you don’t want me to starve…”He smiled at me and lightly kissed me on the cheek, saying a quick goodbye to his friends and turning off the console.

We walked to the kitchen and saw his mother and little sister fixing themselves plates of food. Anon went to the cabinet to pull out a plate, but was stopped by his mom, “I’ll get it, sweetie. Just sit. You too Y/n, you’re still a guest.”

I smiled politely and sat down at the table next to Anon, arms crossed in my lap.

“Dad’s home!”Naomi lit up with a smile and raced to the door, bouncing up and down as her father approached the door, unlocking it and stepping inside, taking off his shoes as soon as he reached the wooden floor. He hugged Naomi and set his backpack, filled with documents and work files, onto the couch.

We said hello to each other with a small smile and a wave.

As Anon and I ate, his unoccupied hand would hold mine. The conversation between his parents was about the drama at work or how school was going with Naomi. Nothing about Anon came up until things got silent.

“How are things going with you?”His mom asked.

He hummed a little bit and struggled to come up with an answer. 

“When can I do football again?”

The question left his parents shocked and quiet. I’m assuming they didn’t want to break the news to him in front of me or his sister since the thought of him not playing for the rest of the season would simply shatter his image of the perfect life he wanted to have. To Anon, nothing was better than winning a football game and looking up into the stands with triumph and waving to his parents as they had bright smiles on their faces.

Their kid was successful. Their little boy was doing something he loved and was accomplishing so much.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to ask your doctor.”

Things got quiet again.

“I’m finished with dinner.”He said quietly, giving his mother a blank stare of disappointment. Of course, it wasn’t her fault.

“You can leave your plate, I’ll wash up after.”His father said.

I followed after, not saying anything to make the situation any more awkward than it had to be. I went to Anon’s room. He was laying down on the floor, the lights off, a shadow of blinds cast on his face. He was linking his hands on his abdomen and staring up at the ceiling.

“Are you dead or something?”I stifled out a laugh, then immediately realized my mistake,“That was a stupid joke…"

“I’m just thinking for a little bit. I’m fine.”He sighed and closed his eyes. I laid next to him on my side, staring at his cheek while he had tears building in his eyes. His sadness was too devastating to watch, so I looked out of the window and listened to him sniffle. The street light was flickering and the dark sky had yet to be filled with stars.

“Why do you still hang out with me?”His voice cracked.

“Because you’re cool. We talk about what games you like, Stranger Things, I support you and you support me. I like you.” I hesitated, then took his hand from his warm chest and interlocked it with mine, “Why? I-I mean, like…I don’t want to be a bitch, but do I not make you happy?” I questioned.

“A lot of things don’t make me happy, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t. Trust me, you’re not doing anything wrong.”He got quiet, then opened his eyes again, turning to face me. The tears had slipped down his eyes that were red and had his bottom eyelashes stuck together.

“Aw…Don’t cry. I don’t like seeing you upset.”I moved closer to him and let his head rest close to my collar bone, then put my hand on his head, stroking his hair and shushing him

“I’m sorry.”He breathed heavily into the cloth of my shirt.

“Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”I whispered.

The night ran on even though we both had school the next day. For the next few hours, we laid on the carpet of Anon’s bedroom floor as he quietly cried himself to sleep, my head cradled in his hands. The shadow of his blinds remained on his face and my chest burned with a nervousness that had been building up through the course of that weekend. Soon, I was crying too.

And even sooner, I was asleep.

#high school #crushes #anonymous #love #caring #writing #imagine #lonely #teen fiction #romance #mini series #ficlet

[xaziroot]

A star, in a sea of darkness.

This is going to be a long one so strap in for the ride. It's going to get real too. I was prompted to write this by my psychologist and complied, I've learnt copious amounts in these past few years and this could help anyone in a similar situation. Gender and mental health talks. This is like a letter to myself and some documentation on things I've had happen.

Some background on me:

I'm Alex, 18, and my main condition is 17β-Hydroxysteroid dehydrogenase deficiency. A condition which impairs sexual development inside and outside the womb. I'm biologically male with XY chromosomes and basically a dick. I'm not trans though before I could have been classed it when not in line with my biological sex. Intersex is what I am. A decision to raise me as female was made and this is the fallout of it all and what I've done after. This is my mental decline and struggling with myself as a human being.

Fights, football and falling out of trees:

I've been going to Great Ormond Street Hospital since the age of 2 and been in psychology since 9. I'm now 18. We're entering the latter part of a decade now, I've had people tell me I'm special but at the same time "a normal kid". But which kid? What was normal? Where did these guidelines come from?

From a young age I knew something was different about me compared to the girls I was lumped into. You oft assume children don't know what they're talking about when it comes to themselves, but I’ve found this to be evidently the wrong mindset. I looked completely different to girls and had a totally different mindset - I was hairier than them, naturally more aggressive and headstrong, liked to do all the stereotypically male stuff; football, fights, falling out of trees the list goes on.

Kids are shit, let's get that out of the way. I remember being taunted with the words gorilla and baboon by family friend’s sons, they pointed at my arms and made remarks like “that's ugly” and “only boys have that”. It did also slightly terrify them so I chased them round with my arms and legs in plain view. I laughed but it really did hurt. This was one of the first times I felt inordinately uncomfortable with my body and myself as a person. I was 5. I continued with laughing at my own pain and not dealing with it for years.

Feelings of not belonging from a young age were ever present and I honestly toiled with my image. I vividly recall in my first psychology session, I was asked what I thought I was. Without hesitation, I stated a boy trapped in a girl’s body. The premise of being a boy completely petrified me however. I was always a tomboy esc child, short hair, loud, wouldn’t mind getting into fights, its goes on. I was certainly a handful and a half.

Condition/Puberty :

My condition means I make zero sex hormone which regulates moods, bone density and one of the most important factors; puberty. A gonadectomy was performed when I was 3 to remove what were my cancerous testes at the time. The fear was if I was to leave these in, when something doesn’t work correctly, it oft turns cancerous. I still think this is horseshit and they should have left them in. (Gonads are what turn into ovaries or testes in every human being when forming inside your mother)

No gonads mean minimal to no sex hormone. I was continually told I needed to take tablets, injections or patches to go through puberty. This onus to medication created this image of I was a freak in my mind. I wasn’t normal and wasn’t a real person. I was but a broken husk of a person. My body nor my mind felt right. To counter this, puberty was induced by a motley of oestrogen based tablets and patches. I absolutely resented these.

Growing up in a conservative east Asian household, I succumbed to the will of my parents and what they wished with no regards or free thoughts of my own wellness. They willed for me to be a girl and that’s what I did. Muted, I got on with life for a few years still feeling horrifically uncomfortable with myself. I scrolled through the internet and browsed through pages upon pages on my condition, further feeling alienated with myself, until I stumbled upon a site which showed, gender wasn’t all black and white.

I scuttled to call my psychologist and let her know the good news. “I IDENTIFY AS A DEMI-GUY!!” She quickly congratulated me and I spoke to her on the spectrum of gender and how it was rather than black and white; a rainbow. Always more masculine and more of an androgynously presented female. Woefully this wasn’t to last. This was around the time I lost a rock in my life; my older brother. I had a younger brother to whom I had always acted like an older brother too, rather than a sister. I also felt I had to step up as the elder male in the family, yet my family considered me nothing of the sort.

They continually told me, stop this mess, you’re a girl get over it. I forcibly resented them and pushed and yelled and fought my way around saying no the fuck I’m not. They tried to make me do typical girl things, wear girl clothes and the like. I had none of it. My sisters, constantly told me, this was but a phase, when I grow up I’ll grow out of this. I’ll be a girl one day. I told them I would rather die. I felt like I would rather die. I had no place in this world.

Boys don’t cry and girls don’t force out their emotions. But, in a family where you’re considered neither, what do you do? How do you cope? I had my mother nor father to speak to, as they said this was all a phase and I was to grow out of it soon. I remember the week before my 15th birthday, I was in the car going to the supermarket with my mum and I yelled, I don’t want to be a girl, I’m not a girl and I want to be a boy. Why am I not normal? Why was I born this way? I don’t want to be alive anymore.

She broke crying saying no one would love me if I did, I wouldn’t be a normal boy and nothing I would do could really work. Well I wasn’t a normal girl so what do I do? I was pushed to the side lines I noticed and my parents focused more of their attention to my younger brother. When I struggled with depression they just pawned it off saying it’s your fault. When my younger brother was diagnosed they rushed to be with him, doing everything for him and stating how I wasn’t a great influence. By 16 I had been diagnosed with chronic depression and anxiety along with borderline personality disorder. This was the real start of my downfall mentally.

College and later:

At college, I still struggled with who I wished to be presented as. I said I wanted to change my name and asked everyone to refer to me as Alex. A typically androgynous name, and could be used to refer to both a female and male. I made who I call my best friends now and got into art. I was extremely aggressive towards myself and others. Destructive behaviour was normal, I broke my hands, ripped my knuckles open, tore my skin open with glass shards, razor blades and anything sharp I could get my hands on. The scars of these still run deep on my skin. I had no idea how to cope with myself and others mentally.

My first best friends, absolute nerds like myself. One drew, the others played D&D and got me into it. We wasted hours on end, playing our characters. My character, a weretiger dwarf with god like strength. I had never had so much fun or felt like I was part of something. For some reason, I ended up hating this when it was pointed out, I immediately felt sick and distraught and panicked at hearing it.

By this point I had been off hormone for a few years which was really starting to take its toll on me. I had violent mood swings swinging from angry to happy to sadness within the frame of a few minutes. I hated everything and everyone, feeling as if the world was against me and nothing good was forecast for me.

It was around this time I decided I needed an outlet to pool all my energy into. My psychologist suggested the gym but ultimately, I went for art and drawing. I started seriously drawing in January of 2016. It was the end of my first year in college, summer was here and I decided to really knuckle down on art and get serious. I scrolled through my Instagram and the limited artists I followed. I found a drawing by an artist which left me dumbfounded. It was the coolest thing I had seen ever. I started to speak to this artist who we’ll name Manny for the time. Manny was the kindest, most accepting human being I’d ever met to that point and still, to this day, I hold as the biggest influence in my life.

Manny had been through a lot themselves, neither of our lives, exactly peachy. But they were obviously doing better than myself, something I couldn’t see. Years of mental neglect and struggle flooded out of the gates and I put more pressure on Manny than thought. I had no idea how to cope, I pawned everything bad onto others whom I spoke to, blamed myself for everything and was a glowing disorder of negativity and hatred. Come to the end of the year and Manny had ended up becoming my first S/O. This time, though plagued with issues, was easily the happiest and simplest time of my life. Friends, someone who loved me, a job and a roof over my head, I was on track to be in the worst place mentally ever.

Manny was unrelenting in saying how much I meant to them. This was the first time I had ever felt wanted and needed in my life. The feeling of belonging and genuine appreciation for my existence was something I had never had before. This lasted for a few months until they called it off. I understood but didn’t at the same time. But I accepted it and let it happen. I was sick for a week after this. Lovesickness is a thing and so is heartbreak. Coupled with my brutal mood swings, I grappled and competed with myself and further chipped away at the little self-worth I had. Oddly this affected me for months to come.

Now looking back, neither of us was in a place to be together but I’m glad I did it. I had no idea the sheer joy someone can bring you, the feeling of wanting to be better for them and everything about them. You love their little mannerisms, their little jokes absolutely everything. Nothing feels wrong and you feel nothing can bring you down. Though I had no clue how to cope at the time, this gave me my first taste of what affection is like. You learn what you can cope with and what you can’t.

It was around this time, I was coming to final talks on who I wanted to be.

I had enough. Years of feeling neglected, and feeling chipped away at had taken their toll. It’s odd, you think the small things don’t hurt as much but they really hurt the most. Being called she dozens of times a day, I pawned off but this ultimately hurt me the most. I still struggled with seeing my worth as a human being, still feeling broken. You would be surprised at how much having minimal sexual hormone really does affect you. I couldn’t see the worth in living often and blocked myself in my room and wanted to wither away. I tried overdosing, bleed outs and trying to starve myself into a coma. I once didn’t eat for 2 weeks.

Family constantly still said, get out of your phase now, it’s not real you’ll not be a real boy. But I started Testosterone in December of 2016 against everyone’s wishes. Within a few months, my voice had broken, I was far more muscular, acne to shit and loads more which arrives with the wheel of puberty. I felt a feeling of belonging in my body which I didn’t previously. I still didn’t feel right for months to come until now, November of 2017.

I did a 180 and really started to work on myself. I started going to gym, losing weight, growing my hair out and spoke to my psychologist more on how I could accept myself. It’s tough, when you feel everything is on a fundamental level, wrong. One thing I was told to do was go to a mirror, look at myself and tell myself I love you. The first time I did this, I looked at myself, became so enraged and punched the mirror. I went to work at a networking company 9 - 5 and separated from my college friends, 15 miles away in a different town. I slowly moved away from my friends and Manny themselves said they didn’t want to speak to me anymore. Spending time in hospital with skin issues was more a blessing than a curse.

You’d think losing my best friends, would rip me apart but I felt nothing. I spoke to my psychologist and asked her, was I broken? Why did I struggle to feel anything? Even today, I still toil with my emotions. I don’t have the fix for this now man, but work at it. Gain your friends respect back. Not their approval. You value them as people and not the need to be wanted.

But I’ve come to accept myself more. Now, this may be extremely trivial but I like my face. I think I’m cute. I look fucking beautiful with long hair. Me this time last year, was 180 the other direction, hating myself so much I was tearing my skin apart and wanting to be dead. But I’m happy I’ve lived through it. Bro you’re bomb af and I’m so proud of you. You’re not 100% right now but holy fuck you’re cute.

I’ve learnt a lot in the past few years, but if I went back in time to speak to myself, I would say:

Don’t underestimate yourself.

I’ve had experiences and emotions many people don’t feel during any time in their life. This was something I was told for 4 straight years, month after month. My psychologist continually spoke about how monumental the things I’ve had to deal with are, continually putting others before myself and never caring about how I felt.

Don’t neglect yourself, mentally nor physically.

You might not see it now, but fuck you’re amazing man. You’ve soldiered through shit keeping everything else on top of your shoulders. Your body might not be perfect, but you can work on it. Don’t keep taking it out on yourself. It’s ok. You need to yell, scream, should, punch, kick? Go for it. Cope, don’t feel bad for being by yourself a lot and just wondering round.

Don’t pressure your friends.

A difficult one I will admit since you have no idea how to cope yourself. But in time, you learn. Things you shouldn’t do, things you can do. Friends are friends man! Not psychologists. Love them, appreciate them, don’t be afraid to tell them you love them. They’re there for you and oft family. Don’t offload to them constantly and scare them off. If you struggle, they struggle.

Love yourself.

You’re more than good enough to be alive. Your legs may hurt, your insides might not work perfectly and there’s no more of you but you’re breathing, competent and can love. It’s okay dude! I love you now. I’m what’s basically your older brother, with all experiences. Your dark chocolate eyes, soft flowing brunette hair and pale skin is all good! Your spider hands are cool af and you sound like a 36-year-old man. I’m proud of you kid. So are friends. People who stuck up for you in secondary school are proud you’re becoming the person you’ve wanted to be.

Life is a rollercoaster.

It’s never always going to be sunshine and daisies. It’s a ride with a set number of seats. People come and go but if you think people are worth keeping, you strive to improve yourself. Earn their respect and make sure they’re people whose respect means something to you. Take heed of friend’s words, they have experiences you don’t and may know about something better.

Real family isn’t perfect no matter what you’ve come to believe.

At times, they care when they need something and could toss you aside when they don’t. But don’t worry. Don’t take what Dad or Mum say to heart. They care, in the crudest sense possible. Your sisters, are still a grey area. They’ll still refuse to call you by your name but take it in your stride and like water off a duck’s back. Don’t panic it will pan out in time. They’re just scared for you but show them, you’ve got it down. Don’t rush to gain their approval it’s honestly not worth jack.

You won’t improve your character overnight.

As heart breaking as it is and how you want to see progress there and then, chip away at it. Do little bits and do what you can and change does happen. You’re not perfect and people may suggest things, you’ll not get it right first time, second nor the third. But keep at it. You might go completely the wrong way but attempt it.

You cannot help everyone.

Often its better to remain quiet man.

We all cope in different ways.

Pain is relative. Do not compare yourself to others. You might be able to be hit by a car but a gash is worse for the other person. Nothing is a competition. You may be hit constantly with bad news but take it as it comes and deal with it. Don’t go comparing your pain to others, it’s bad news.

Illness isn’t the end of the world.

Don’t panic or come to believe it’s the end of it all. Won’t lie, you have potential osteoporosis on the way and your nerve damage gets worse but take it as it comes. You’re still ok. You find methods to cope with it.

Finally man, you're growing up and smashing norms within our culture. You've even been called a pretty boy twice. Life moves in mysterious big guy.

Anyone wants to speak to me about anything, transitioning, changes, coping anything, send me a message. I’m not perfect but I'll really try and help you.

#ftm #ftm hrt #asian ftm #trans #transgender #intersex #nonbinary #non binary #mtf #anxious #anxiety #depression #mental health #mental illness #bpd #life story #transition #transitioning #testosterone #sustanon #intersexy #chromosomes #gonadectomy #gonads #love #queer #they/them #pronouns #he/him #hospital

[forestwater87]

“JASPER DIES AT THE END” (S2E5) MASTERPOST: THE WRITERS ARE BRILLIANT (AND DAVID IS CUTE, TO NO ONE’S SURPRISE)

Hey guys, you know what everyone wants to talk about with this exciting episode that teases major character death and angst? 

A book about a monster made of frozen meat!

No? Just me? Well fuck it, I’ll save the John Dies at the End talk for the end of this post, but someone is going to listen to me freak out about it, okay?! Because it is goddamn brilliant!

First though: Baby Davids.

SO MANY BABY DAVIDS.

This is actually not a Baby David. It might be hard to tell, considering he’s an adorable baby, but this is actually a grown fucking man.

Which makes the fact that he’s driving a car pretty reassuring, I guess.

Although he must stop making that tiny little pout mouth, because I might actually dehydrate myself from crying so many tears. 

It’s so cute. It’s too cute.

David, I’m really gonna need you to keep your eyes on the road more than 30% of the time.

Good boy.

Also, is his steering wheel at dick height? That . . . seems wrong, somehow. Where is it?

(Also HopefullyPessimistic pointed out that he’s not wearing a seatbelt. To be fair, I don’t think this car has seatbelts, at least not in the front, but that’s not very safe!)

DAVID

LOOK AT THE FUCKING ROAD

Thank you.

GODDAMN IT YOU’RE A BAD DRIVER!

Anyway, they’re all going to the hospital because the kids glued Space Kid to cardboard, I think? And apparently this isn’t something that can be cured by, like, putting him in water until the glue and cardboard dissolve.

To be fair, I wouldn’t trust whatever chemicals are put into the glue Campbell buys (and let’s be real, probably makes). It might be a good idea to seek immediate medical attention.

Why are the kids there?

Shh, don’t ask questions. Just look at how cute Max and Nikki are.

See, isn’t that better?

Anyway, Nikki gets David talking about his time as a Camp Campbell camper just like they are now! (Seriously, how many fucking times has David used those exact words?)

David is overjoyed!

(And adorable.)

(And still not looking in even the general direction of the road!)

Max is . . . less so.

Nikki’s face!

David please, you’re gonna kill someone!!

At this point Max gets so upset he apparently starts tripping balls. Or . . . maybe they all do? Maybe this is the result of glue fumes?

I can’t imagine it’d make David’s driving any worse, at least.

And now . . . flashback time! Which means . . . CUTENESS AHOY!!!!

Oh.

This . . . is not what I was hoping for.

If Campbell could just try not to look like he’s eye-fucking the audience I’d really appreciate it. He’s like his very own Workplace Sexual Harassment video.

Baby Jasper is precious. I realize that there is no non-baby Jasper so calling him “baby” is a bit unnecessary, but . . . look at him. He’s such a baby!

The way Campbell defers to QM is oddly sweet. I wanna know more about their relationship.

I’m gonna need someone to explain to me how that moth is alive after being presumably squished between the pages of the book. Also how the Quartermaster is reading without looking at the words.

There is no good way for me to animate QM’s mustache, but trust me, it moves when he talks and it looks kinda like an octopus swimming and I find it unreasonably endearing.

UH OH GUYS

WE GOT TROUBLE

HIS NAME IS DAVEY

AND HE’S THE TOUGHEST OH MY GOD I CAN’T HE’S JUST SO FUCKING CUTE SQUEEEEEEEEEEEE LOOKIT HIS LITTLE FACE AND HIS NEAT LITTLE HAIR POOF OH MY GODDDDDDDDDD

Ahem. Anyway.

Glad to see that David never outgrew his “pushing people out of the way, often literally to the ground” phase. He’s apparently been doing that since . . . 9? 10?

Okay, is it just like a rule that female counselors have to have hair that does that? This two-tone thing is ridiculously confusing, though at least this one doesn’t look like a hat.

. . . Wh-where did you get that can from, David? Where on your tiny body did you fit it?

Gasp! 

No, honestly, that does upset me. Don’t litter; it’s disrespectful and disgusting and grown-up David would be very disappointed.

Davey would like you to know that he thinks nature is stupid. At least, that’s what I think he’s saying; it’s hard to concentrate because he sounds like Mickey Mouse with a sore throat.

Also he keeps making faces that are so cute I almost drown out the dialogue by screaming.

I know I call David a kitten too much, but look at me and tell me you don’t see an angry kitten. Actually, don’t tell me, just unfollow me, because we clearly will never agree on anything important.

Boyfriends? Boyfriends.

BOY. FRIENDS.

You might think breaking out “square” and “dang” are cheesy even for David, but this was probably like 2002 or so? It’s a little-known fact, but obscenities actually weren’t invented until 2004, most people believe with the success of Lil Jon. So this was actually appalling for the time period.

Davey gets to go on some magical probably-vaguely-racist nature quest with Jasper and Campbell! And boy, is he thrilled!

There are going to be a million comparisons to young Davey and Max by everyone who watches this episode, which makes totally sense because they’re so similar and it explains so much about David’s attitude toward him and his refusal to never give up and all that.

It sounds like there’s a “but” at the end of that, but there isn’t. It’s just going to happen a lot. And that’s a pure and good thing.

I need adult David to roll his eyes even, like, a tenth as much as Baby David does. It’s so fucking cute it hurts.

Jasper is a good good boy.

You know, I have a crimelord/FAHC AU where the Quartermaster is Campbell’s right-hand man.

I’m starting to think that maybe it’s actually the other way around.

(Also David’s being totally unimpressed and Jasper’s general confused faces are so good.)

Cam, never make that expression again. Please. For the children.

David actually says “SIGH.” Even as a “bad boy” he’s the biggest fucking dork.

So they’re off! Exploring! They don’t get very far, but Davey’s face goes on a motherfucking journey all its own. Join me, won’t you?

The noise I made at this face was inhuman. I sounded like someone had stepped on my throat really hard.

That was an adventure of a lifetime, and I hope you all enjoyed taking it with me!

I literally wrote “Max” instead of “David.” I’m just not used to see that little face so angry.

This is the “check out the balls on new kid” moment for Davey, when he seems actually kinda impressed that Jasper’s telling Campbell they’re lost. Sure, Jasp isn’t a new kid, but his “this oughta be interesting” expression is great.

“We are FUCKING lost!”

No, he didn’t say that. How great would it have been, though? 

Actually, @hopefullypessimistic84 has my new favorite theory, and I’m just gonna paste it here because it’s genius:

since David was the one telling the story to the trio...we don't know for sure Davey said "Darn"

The boy could've been saying some no-no words

I’ve adopted this as canon. Jasper had to learn how to swear somewhere, right?

I have no comments. David is just like 75% eyes and it’s very important to me.

David: torn between resentment and admiration for Jasper (and probably Campbell). And crossing his arms like a little dweeb.

I feel like we need to have a a conversation about how Jasper looks exactly like Griffin McElroy. (To me, anyway. I might be the only one who sees it.) Which came first, the design or the voice?

David is perfect and Campbell gives no fucks.

B

O

Y

F

R

I

E

N

D

S

Some cute Jaspers, mostly for HopefullyPessimistic but let’s be real, we all need some cute Jasper in our lives.

Have I mentioned that Davey is cute? Seriously, there’s like nothing else to this post. He sounds like Mickey Mouse and looks like a ball of sunshine had a baby with a kitten.

JESUS CHRIST, CAMPBELL

Can we talk about how David knew Campbell was going to kill him? Because he’s the one telling this story, after all.

Sad David is my favorite thing. Sad Baby David is even better oh my god.

“I know I’m a bad kid —”

“I’m rotten to the core!”

Sweetie, you're like if a Chihuahua got bitten by a radioactive young Haley Joel Osment and transformed into the cutest thing on the planet. 

You’re no Max.

Can we just have a conversation about how Davey looks when he says “and even if I’m not as good as he is”?

Baby

BABY

How deep does this inferiority complex go?! When did it start?! WHO KEEPS TELLING YOU YOU’RE NOT AS GOOD AS OTHER BLONDE-HAIRED BLUE-EYED TWINKS I’LL FUCKING PUNCH THEM DAVID YOU’RE SO PERFECT AND LOVABLE JUST THE WAY YOU ARE SHHH DON’T BE SAD

Seriously, though, this is goddamn heartbreaking. He’ll later say that saving Jasper was reaching his “full potential” — and I mean, yeah saving someone’s life is pretty fucking impressive, but at ~10 years old he shouldn’t consider being the sidekick to someone else’s story his main accomplishment.

Baby. Don’t do this to me. I can’t handle these feelings.

BRAVEHEART!

There are times where I just have pictures and no commentary, and I ask myself if I should just not include those pictures, because I don’t have anything interesting to say about them. And then I look at this motherfucker’s face and think no, this deserves to be stared at.

Stare at it, guys.

I should point out how cute all the kids look, but I’m pretty sure the only thing that exists for me right now is DAVID’S FACE WHAT THE FUCK AM I EVEN LOOKING AT MY BOYYYYYYY

(Also good job letting those eyebrows grow in, babe. It wasn’t a great look.)

This is the closest David will get to rolling his eyes as an adult, and we need to appreciate it.

NIKKI WHERE IS YOUR SEATBELT

THIS DRIVE IS SO UNSAFE

I AM SO STRESSED

These images are good and pure.

Wait wait wait wait WAIT

TWINSIES! (Or . . . same-person-sies. Whatever, he kept this expression into adulthood and I am here for it.)

As David’s mouth gets smaller, so do the colored parts of his eyes. You know what I’m going to say about this.

Is this post too long? Yes. Is it going to stop me? Nope!

DON’T FUCK WITH DAVEY. HE’LL FUCK YOU UP.

God this post is getting stupid

Look at him prance! That’s the intimidating prancing of someone who is gonna fuck you up

Jasper has been underrepresented here, which is a shame because he’s a lovely child and wait where’s the second half of that bear?

I mean, it’s standing on its hind legs, right? But . . . where’s the rest of it?

@ciphernetics pointed out that if Jasper had lived, he would’ve had these big scars across his chest and David would kiss them and now I want to cry so fucking thanks for that, Netics. Let’s all be sad together.

Does anyone else get a weird “Scuttle looking at human objects” vibe from this? Just me?

Just me, then.

D:

Don’t point that there, Campbell! That’s how lawsuits start!

David is not fucking around.

NOT. FUCKING. AROUND.

(Honestly, I’m slightly amazed that he got out of this forest alive. By the way, if I’m lost in the wilderness, please just use technology to save me. I don’t give a single fuck.)

David is the O.O face. He just is.

“I’ve seen bears do some pretty crazy things before.”

What . . . what kind of impossible things, Cam?

Why are you making that face, Cam?

Was it . . . was it sex things?

Look at little detective Davey! He’s my Scooby son and he can’t do anything without looking like a total dork and I love him more than life itself.

Here we have Heartbreak OH SHIT: A Triptych

(shoutout to Lemony Snicket for teaching me what a triptych is, btw. I swear I’ve learned more from those books than actual school.)

LOOK AT DAVID’S FUCKING SWEET MOVES!

Okay, someone explain to me how he could avoid getting stabbed/clawed/stomped on by three bears two bears and a maniac, yet cannot avoid damage from a single solitary bus? What happened to your moves, Davey?

Oh my sweet Jesus LOOK AT THIS FACE GUYS

Also I might just be a monster, but my response to these events would absolutely be “HOLY SHIT THAT’S THE COOLEST GODDAMN THING I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!” not “hey you didn’t have to murder the bears.”

I mean, you kids realize that bears . . . run? Trust me, you weren’t getting far without some good ol’-fashioned bear murderin’. 

Fuck, I can’t believe I just complimented Campbell. Ew. Ew. Ew, this feels wrong and weird and gross, like when you fall asleep without brushing your teeth. Ugh, let’s move on.

Well, they seem to have recovered. (Good. Appreciate the awesome.)

I’d also like a story about how the 3 of them carried those bears down a mountain, but I guess that’s for another flashback.

He absolutely thinks he’s gonna get in trouble here and my heart cannot handle it. Honey, please. Tell me who hurt you.

Thaaaaat’s unsettling.

I mean, it’s not, it’s adorable, but eyes shouldn’t do that. Makes me wonder if Campbell slipped him something up on that mountain.

Wouldn’t put it past him, is all I’m saying.

LOOK HOW HAPPY HE IS!

LOOK HOW MUCH JOY HE’S GETTING OUT OF FEELING WORTHWHILE FOR ONCE IN HIS SHORT LIFE wait a second.

That’s awful.

Does David seriously love Camp Campbell because it’s the first time he’s actually felt like he accomplished something? Is this episode actually really fucking depressing and not in the way we all assumed it would be?

Shhhh don’t think about it! Look at how cute he is instead! 

Awww I just wanna snuggle him. And give Jasper immediate medical attention. 

(Seriously, Campbell, the fuck.)

Here we have a grizzled old man stealing a small child’s nipple. I know it’s too high let me have this goddamn joke okay

I’d call David an asshole for not caring about Jasper’s sadness, but considering how much this episode made me feel like crying in a corner already, I think it’d be pretty mean to shit on this poor kid’s happiness by pointing out what a jerk he is.

Besides, we don’t know Jasper. He was kinda a dick in the beginning of this episode too — though to be fair this was all told by David, so I have to wonder how much of that was his obvious hatecrush.

“Ha, look at me! I’m so great! Don’t you . . . don’t you think I’m great, Jasper? Jasper, are you seeing this? How great I am?”

H A T E 

C R U S H

Cute cute cute cute cute

Also um the fuck

David

This is why people on Tumblr call you gay

It’s this

All of it

All of the this

Going off to hit on/brag at his depressed totally-not-crush. Guys I ship this so hard.

I

Okay but

what am I supposed to SAY here?!

He’s beautiful!

He makes me want to cry!

I made a legitimate squeaking noise at the cuteness of these pictures!

WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY, DAVID?!

WHY ARE YOU SUCH SUNSHINE AND RAINBOWS?!

Fuck this fuck. Ruined my stellar commentary. (Ha, yeah okay.)

And now for the part I actually wrote first because I’m too excited, and nobody else will care about!

John Dies at the End is a novel by David Wong (who also serves as the narrator; think Lemony Snicket, if he was a drug-addicted depressed nihilist asshole who . . . okay, just think Lemony Snicket). It’s also a movie; I haven’t seen it, I keep meaning to, I’ve heard mostly-good things. The book is a masterpiece and I love it so goddamn much.

So what does it have to do with Rooster Teeth? 

Well, the title’s an obvious nod, which Miles has just straight-up said. But also the titular John is an upbeat, recklessly gung-ho guy always eager to jump into anything, which usually leads him into getting into trouble — and dragging Dave, the reluctant, cynical asshole who wants nothing to do with these adventures, into shit with him. Now who does that sound a bit like?

It’s something of a stretch, but I don’t think it’s too far off: Jasper is John, the energetic do-gooder with a serious ego — hell, they even have the same place in the title — and David is Dave Wong, the reluctant hero who despite not wanting anything but to be left alone, ends up doing the right thing because he just can’t fucking not when shit gets real and no one else is willing to step up.

And then, obviously the major reference is in the fact that John does not die at the end of John Dies at the End. I’m honestly upset that I didn’t see the end of this episode coming, because the title basically tells you, if you picked up on the reference, that Jasper will absolutely live.

Which he does.

Also the sense of humor is a great combination of deeply poignant and so immature you can’t believe actual adults sat down and wrote it. So, obvious parallels.

THESE WRITERS. THEY ARE SO FUCKING GOOD.

(This is what being an English major does to you, kids. It’s not good for your social life. You will overanalyze everything. Obviously I highly recommend it.)

#campcamp #campcamp season 2 #john dies at the end #cc jasper #cc david #cc campbell #cc qm #cc quartermaster #david wong #campcamp masterpost #to be fair david didn't die and get replaced by a hell-dimension version of himself with an identical personality and memories #(that we know of) #so it's not a 1:1 comparison #also there was no meat monster #which is a shame because that part scared the shit out of me #my stuff #no proofreading #not this time