#they'd always drag the whole program down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sadachmesarthim · 3 years

Text

coercive notions - stucky

content: semi-graphic violence, blood, minor character deaths, emotional manipulation and abuse, false imprisonment, kidnapping, torture in the form of nonconsensual body modifications, stockholm syndrome.

dead dove: do not eat. steve sucks big time in this one. i’m not really sorry about it.

note: happy 6k followers to @sweeterthanthis !!! i love the idea of these prompts, they definitely did their job !! i was thrilled when i saw i got my quote of choice. this one’s based on ”i wish i knew how to quit you” from brokeback mountain (my favorite angsty husbands)

if the timeline is nonsensical in this - think 2 years post engame but no one's actually died! there is also some background starker but it's only mentioned twice. this is my first time writing for steve and bucky, and my first ~dark~ piece. it was definitely the challenge it presented itself as, and i’m super thankful for the opportunity to participate alongside so many talented witers!!

word count: 4.2k ; read time 15 minutes

Steve'd survived because of Bucky.

Bucky was the one that kept the fevers at bay, bought him medicine, nursed him back to health even when neither of them thought he'd survive through the night. Bucky was the one that dragged him out of the river, and left him alive on the bank.

Left him to wake up.

Bucky was the one that welcomed him with open arms when Steve was abandoned by the Avengers. Steve'd lost his home, his family - everyone and everything he had - when the world rejected him (the millionth time). Bucky was the one that came back. He'd lost his arm, his identity, everyone and everything he remembered - but he still ran to Steve without hesitation. No matter how far away they got, no matter what separated them, they always came back to one another.

They got together right after the fight with Tony in Siberia.

They'd found each other, and suddenly gained a future.

Steve had never... really pictured himself having a future. When he was younger, he accepted that he'd die young. A fever that wouldn't break, a cough that wouldn't leave, pneumonia he couldn't beat... Then he joined the army. He suddenly... had possibilities.

But there was still war, he was still fighting, and he was still in the line of danger every single day. It didn't matter if he was fighting Hitler, homophobia, Hydra, - someone was always gunning for him. Someone was always trying to get him killed. And it worked! He died! Crashed straight into the ocean and froze, for seventy fucking years!

Until someone had the audacity to defrost him, and yet again force him into the line of fire. Without really consulting him first. It was something Steve was slowly coming to terms with - he’d always be fighting, always be serving, always be protecting.

He’d been failing his job as a protector, lately.

+//////+

They all thought it was a bit weird, but then again, so is living with two men that look seventy years younger than they actually are. So is living with your coworkers. So is being a superhero. So of course none of the other Avengers said anything.

Not when Bucky started asking Steve permission for things - to get up from, and leave, the table after meetings. If he could get seconds during breakfast or dinner. If he was allowed to come on patrols or missions. Everyone just assumed it was a forties thing, or that it was just Bucky getting more comfortable around them. The dirtier minds of the group (Tony, Peter, Natasha) chalked it up to a kinky sex thing.

Steve saw it as devotion.

Bucky saw it as a way to keep him appeased.

See, Steve'd gotten more... irritable, lately. Every time Bucky got hurt on patrol, was in a bad position during a mission, needlessly volunteered to do something dangerous - it pissed Steve off to high heavens, for no reason. It'd gotten significantly worse over the course of a few months, to the point where Bucky could barely breathe without Steve getting upset.

It came to a head one day when Bucky got pinned during a fight with New York's latest nuisance. He wasn't even supposed to be there, it was his day off, for fucks sake. But he'd heard the call go out, and suited up before following a few minutes behind the rest of the crew.

This particular species of big nasty™ (a xorrian dog? Thor had called it?) had an... upsetting taste for live, warm flesh. He popped up outta nowhere over Manhattan during the Friday morning rush, apparently scouting Earth for the next course in their Milky Way Dinner Service.

Bucky, self sacrificing moron that he is, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just as Steve laid down the final blow, narrowly avoiding the alien's jaw, Bucky slid underneath it, shoving his hand between the soft plating of the monster's stomach. He reached in, single-handedly gutting the thing while Steve put a shield-sized dent in its skull.

Their foe dropped almost instantly, crushing Bucky beneath several tons of dead weight. None of them would have known he was there, either, if Tony hadn’t programmed life-sensing protocols in a new combat arm he’d gifted the soldier for his second anniversary home and Hydra-free. A signal went to Tony’s suit the instant FRIDAY sensed structural integrity issues, sending him a precise location.

“What do you mean he’s here, babygirl? We didn’t call him in.” The worry in Tony’s voice was apparent, calling the attention of the rest of his team. They were all intrigued, prematurely pulled from their celebrations of a fight well won.

“It seems that Sergeant Barnes is approximately twenty paces northwest of your location, and his elevation is slowly decreasing. Would you like a map of the area?”

“Uhh, no Fri. I think I know exactly where he is. Cap, get your ass over here!” His heart rate was increasing by the second. If he thought correctly (as Tony almost always did), Bucky was... underneath the alien. “We need to pick this fucker up, or flip it, or something. I think Bucky’s stuck under it.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. “Tony, what the fuck are you talking about? Bucky wasn’t part of the group today.”

Steve didn’t hide his anxiety well when it came to Bucky. Their team knew that he was Steve’s whole world. One more life threatening situation, and Steve might actually die from old age with all the years Bucky’d stressed out of him. FRIDAY sending a detailed ping with Bucky’s combat arm location didn’t do anything to ease his anxiety, either. He knew it was just like Bucky to do something like this - jump in without word, all act and no think. Try to help his team out and wind up crushed by an alien pet the size of a 787.

Peter was next to them, soon, ready to help get this thing off their friend. Together, they managed to drag Mister Beast-of-the-Week far enough down the street, revealing a very unconscious, very bloody Winter Soldier nestled in the asphalt.

Steve was on him in a second, picking Bucky up with both hands. Tony already had FRIDAY doing preliminary scans and sending them back to Cho and Strange. Initial reads weren’t terrible, all things considered, but he still looked like shit. He might be five hundred times stronger than the average man, but no one’s prepared to be stuck under 200 tons of pure xeno-reptilian mass. Not even Bucky Barnes.

His head rolled back freely as Steve picked him up, exposing an already bruised and swelling jaw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, choking him on his own shock. Saved by the bell, Cho called Tony back immediately, sending for one of them to bring him to the tower surgical site immediately.

“We have to go, Steve. Let us take him, we’ll get him fixed. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But you have to let him go.” Steve’s upward glance brought him Tony’s exasperated face. He was dizzy, everything felt like slow motion.

He didn’t register the movement until he saw it, watching Peter’s hands as they held him back. Tony took Bucky’s lifeless form, carrying him toward Stark Tower and away from the wreckage.

The wreckage he shouldn’t have been anywhere near in the first place.

The wreckage he wouldn’t even have known about if he didn’t beg Tony to be included in all mission alerts.

The wreckage he would have avoided if it weren’t for the martyr complex he’d had since birth. It might not be nearly as strong as Steve’s, but it was still there. Bucky’d always gone to obscene lengths protecting the people he loved.

Steve had a track record of doing a piss poor job of repaying the favor. He couldn’t save him from the war. He couldn’t save him from the train, or from Hydra. He couldn’t save him from Thanos. He couldn’t even save him from a stupid little skirmish downtown. No, from where he was standing, Steve’d fucked up. Big time.

He promised that day, he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again.

+//////+

It was weeks before he was back to normal, and even then - Bucky wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave. Not because he was still sore, or not feeling up to par. In fact, he'd been antsier and more ready to get back into the field than ever. He missed his friends, he missed the people he fought evil with every day. He missed sparring with Sam and going on runs with Peter, listening as Thor regaled stories about Old Asgard no one.. could quite follow. Missed the twice weekly calls from Shuri. But most of all, he missed his freedom.

Steve wasn't ready to give it to him.

When he woke up after surgery, Steve was right next to his recovery bed. He almost looked like he did back in the day - sleep deprived, worry lines forcing their way to the surface of his face. Vague frustration enveloped him, even when he met Bucky's conscious form for the first time.

Their first few conversations were tender, loving, but it didn't take long for them to sour.

Steve'd insisted on bringing Bucky back to their shared floor immediately after he woke. He allowed Cho to look him over, FRIDAY to scan him, everyone to come say hi - but he never let Bucky out of his sight. Not while Bucky was awake, anyway.

He slept a lot in those first few days. He was still healing, and while it might have been much faster than anyone expected, he was also recovering from what should have been several deaths over. He spent most of his time in bed, asleep, or talking to Steve.

Most of it was lecture, some was praise. How stupid he was to get involved on his day off. How much Steve loved him. How he wasn't allowed to go being a martyr like that again. How much Steve loved him. How Steve was going to do a better job of watching over him from now on. How much Steve loved him.

There was a lot of that, after Bucky woke up. How much Steve loved him. How important Bucky was to him, how much it meant to him that Bucky was alive and breathing and conscious and okay. Every time he got a lecture, or a reminder, Steve's hand was on him somewhere. His shoulder, his wrist, his face. His throat. Every time he spoke, he squeezed, just the tiniest bit. Not threatening, not even to force acknowledgement. Just.. Because he could. To the untrained eye, it was just physical contact.

Bucky knew better.

Bucky knew conditioning when he saw it. When he felt it.

Bucky also knew he was significantly more susceptible to conditioning than most people.

Bucky was fucked.

+//////+

Tony didn't think anything of it when Steve asked for handcuffs that could hold a supersoldier back. He, too, was a pervert with a genetically enhanced super-boyfriend, who was he to deny the Captain a little fun? He'd designed restraints Peter could use without breaking (or hurting himself!), why not share the love?

No one thought anything of it when Bucky stopped joining them on missions. Trauma has a different effect on everyone, maybe Bucky just needed time to process almost dying (again). No one would blame him for it. Hell, most of them encouraged his staying home.

None of them... really thought anything of it when he quit leaving altogether. They trusted Steve's judgement, and if he didn't think Bucky was ready to leave, then he wasn't. Bucky knew better than to defy him, too - just kept his mouth shut around "yes, Steve"s and "okay, Steve"s.

The conditioning didn't stop as he got stronger. He'd been back to 100% weeks ago, but Steve was still babying him. Carrying him to the shower, not letting Bucky bathe himself, or brush his own teeth. He couldn't dress or eat without help, go anywhere without asking. "I just want to keep you safe. I need to know that you're not going to get hurt." Steve's words remained calm, level, but his face betrayed the threat behind them. If you don't listen, you won't be able to leave at all.

Bucky'd learned the hard way that if he didn't listen to Steve, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd attempted to leave their floor by himself while Steve was out on a mission with Tony, Nat, and Thor - he got up early, showered, got dressed. His first taste of freedom in a long time, he was so excited to go see everyone again.

He was downstairs and halfway through breakfast with Bruce and Peter when Steve got back.

+//////+

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It's a familiar feeling to him, one he thought he'd never deal with again. The isolation. The lack of control. The fear.

Steve initially hadn't looked mad. He let Bucky finish his meal, kept a distant but watchful eye over the group until the two others finished and moved on to their lab work downstairs.

Bucky knew he was fucked. He'd broken rules. He'd left their room without permission. Steve might not have looked it, but Bucky could feel the anger and disappointment radiating off him.

After that... He wasn't allowed to do anything.

No workouts, no missions, no patrols. No leaving their room. Steve'd used the restraints Tony made - had him thoroughly tied down to the floor below their bed. No internet, no phone. Not a single book or movie or boardgame in sight. Good boys don't require entertainment to behave. No eating - Steve'd placed a gastric tube down his sinus to provide nutrition. His muzzle, the one hydra'd used... Steve'd locked it over his jaw, and left it there. Good boys don't need to use their mouths - not to drink, not to eat. Not to talk back or call for help. No using the bathroom on his own - he had a catheter replaced once a day, and Steve changed his bag as needed. Good boys don't get to leave the bed, not even if it's an emergency.

He learned to wait for Steve. Learned his schedule - early morning meetings with Wakanda, check ins with Fury and Maria, patrol a bit after lunch. Then, he'd come back, make sure Bucky's bag was empty and his feeding tube was flushed and clean before feeding him.

Steve allowed him to use the bathroom and shower at night, under incredibly watchful eyes. The restraints Tony'd made were long enough to stretch the entire perimeter of their room, but Steve kept him on a short leash. Bucky had five minutes total - shit, shower, shave. If he didn't finish in time... There's always tomorrow.

If he did, he'd get rewarded.

Steve'd wrap him up in a large fluffy towel, carry him to bed. He'd bring back the sweet little reminders, with his hand around Bucky's throat. How much Steve loved him. How this was all for his protection. How Steve wasn't going to let anything happen to him, ever again. How proud Steve was of him, for letting him return that favor, even decades later. How well behaved Bucky was, how good he'd been for Steve.

Steve was so different from Hydra, too. That's what made it so fucking difficult to resist the love bomb-type conditioning. He wasn't the torture type - didn't like the idea of doing anything he didn't have to. Steve didn't want to hurt him, and Bucky knew that. He found it harder to reject Steve's advances the longer he was locked in that fucking room, found it harder to discern whether or not he... wanted... to reject it.

He was Bucky's dialysis, and his drinking problem.

He was Bucky's oxygen machine, and the cigarettes he'd smoked to earn him one.

Steve could ask Bucky to do anything, ask him for anything... and he was powerless to say no. He'd tried.

+//////+

It'd gotten him a flick to the mouth, for his hesitation.

"When I ask you a question, love, you need to answer me. Do you understand?" The tears in his eyes nearly spilled over, sharp pain from his lips radiating into his nose and the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to get the fuck away from Steve and the compound and everything.

"Yes."

"Yes what, angel?" Steve might've been good about keeping his emotions checked in public, but Bucky could tell he was smug. Gloating. He enjoyed this. What'd happened to the sweet kid from Brooklyn that could barely hold himself upright? Bucky missed him.

"Yes, Stevie. I’m sorry Stevie." Saying his name was painful. This wasn't his Steve. This wasn't the Steve he'd fallen in love with. Wasn't even the man that'd dragged him out from underneath that alien... How long ago? Months? Years?

Bucky didn't know anymore.

Didn't know why his friends hadn't saved him yet. Didn't know how his absence went unnoticed for... however long it'd been. Didn't know why he was struggling to be upset about it all.

Steve, observant as he was, could practically see the gears turning in the other's head. He cradled Bucky's face in his hands, drawing him into calculated eye contact. Bucky felt sick. There was something... wrong, there. Something Bucky'd never seen before.

"They don't love you like I do, Buck. They don't want you. They don't love you."

Bucky flinched at the words, physically recoiling from Steve's grasp. He knew it wasn't true, he knew... He thought it wasn't, right?

Steve's laugh pulled Bucky out of his own thoughts, bringing him back to the room in front of him. He had a display up, with various recordings of the rest of the Avengers. He flipped through them, muting and unmuting seemingly at random.

"... I mean, he's probably ditched us for Zemo again. Would that really shock you?"

"he almost died again. I don't blame him, i wouldn't want to be found eith-"

"-e can take care of himself, let's just give him time."

Steve waved the holo display away when he saw the first few tears fall. "Don't you see, Baby? They don't care like I do - they don't love you like I love you. No one will ever love you like I love you." Steve's words stung, but Bucky couldn't deny that they made sense. Of course no one was looking for him. He was unpredictable, still kind of an outsider. Why would they try to come find him? Why would they care?

Bucky's mouth moved before his brain could stop him.

"'m sorry, Stevie, please, I'm so sorry! I-I- I thought they cared, please, please don't leave me Stevie! I was so wrong, Steve please! Wish I knew how to stop, Stevie, but you know I can't. You gotta help me stop Stevie, I've been so confused, been tryin' to quit you Stevie but I can't. Wish I could quit you but I can't, I can’t be left alone anymore. Please, you can take my arm if you want it, Stevie. Take anything, take whatever you want from just please, please don’t leave me alone anymore!"

He was in hysterics at this point, unable to believe what was coming out of him. Was he really okay with Steve taking his arm away? Did he really love this Steve back? Was he just scared?

The worst part was that he couldn't tell.

+//////+

The smell of fresh coffee woke him before he was ready. His eyes burned, still dry after Steve refused to close the window before they went to bed.

Bucky would have closed it himself, but he couldn't actually reach that far.

They'd moved out to the cabin a few months after Bucky finally broke realized how wrong he was. It was a cute little place, big enough for the two of them but small enough to not draw attention if someone came upon it by accident. Not that they really could. Steve'd installed motion sensors five miles out, and had fully automated... solutions, in place, should any threats or issues arise.

They went entirely unused.

It really was a beautiful plot of land - they had a few animals, a cute pair of kittens to dote on and play with. He had enough room to move around, to sit in the sun or curl up in bed. He had plenty of books, games, anything and everything he could want to occupy his time, really. He had Steve.

And breakfast now, apparently.

Steve set the plate on the bedside table, gently sitting next to his lover and planting small kisses on his still shut eyelids. Bucky looked up and smiled, blushing at the hand that'd wrapped around his neck. He reached out, gently thumbing at the inside of Steve's wrist. Oh, how he'd missed this. Missed contact with his Steve.

He opened his mouth, accepting the bite Steve offered him. Steve always made the best pancakes, he thought, appreciating the hot meal hitting his tongue. He hadn't eaten this good in weeks. It was hard for him to cook without his arm, but Steve always provided. Steve cooked for them, cleaned up after them, made sure Bucky was sated. Safe.

He'd taken off for a mission nearly a month ago. A dangerous one, he'd said. One he might not return from for a while, he'd said. Bucky worried. He always did when Steve left, especially since he couldn't know where or why he was going. But Steve always came back to him. Sometimes, he was back in one piece. Once, he'd come home with an arrow in his stomach and several gunshot wounds. That'd been a... scary night. Another time, he came home with half of his hair singed off and his clothes in tatters.

Last night... Last night he finally came home, and he looked like shit.

He was covered in bruises, nearly 40 pounds lighter than he was when he'd left. There were holes in the shield, too large to be bullets but too small to be anything else easily recognizable. Some were through his suit, too - puncture wounds littering his chest and stomach. They were already partially closed, but he was still bloody.

There were still webs in his hair, too - Bucky brushed them away after Steve closed (and locked. always locked.) the door. He knew better than to comment. Steve was just protecting him. Steve loved him, he was doing what he needed to keep Bucky safe.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. That each time Steve left for a mission, Bucky cried himself to sleep. He thought, eventually, that the pain would go away. That the death of each of his friends would get easier, somehow. That the fear, the hope, of losing Steve would stop consuming him.

He'd just smiled, kissed his husband's cheek, and helped him strip down. He'd mouthed at the graze left on the side of Steve's neck, reverent in the presence that was his protector. Bucky'd developed quite the complex, in their time of isolation. Every time Steve came in - from cutting firewood, picking food from the garden, feeding the animals, or from nights like last... Bucky just couldn't stop talking.

About how he wouldn't be alive without Steve. How he'd still be a mindless slave for Hydra, killing innocent people under everyone's noses. How he owed Steve his life, a thousand times over. How he'd've been taken by Ross or Stark or Clint or someone, and locked away miles under the sea. He'd pressed them into Steve's jaw like kiss-coated secrets, like no one in the entire world knew these things but Bucky & Steve. Like they were bits of information to cherish, to chew on and savour before swallowing.

Steve just laughed, picking Bucky up and bringing him to bed. He followed shortly after, cleaning and patching himself up before snuggling right up to Bucky.

Sleeping was interesting, initially, but they'd adapted. It was easier to cuddle Bucky without his arm, but sometimes Steve woke up with his legs tangled in loose chains by the footboard. It was an easy enough trade, in Bucky's opinion. Give up his arm, give up a bit of freedom, and get a loving, devoted husband in return? One that would make him breakfast in bed, one that would hold him and kiss him and praise him whenever he needed? One that would kill for him? Die for him?

Bucky saw it as a fair enough trade, and if that meant their friends needed to die... He tried not to think about it.

26 notes · View notes

pink-peony-princess · 3 years

Text

A Little Piece of Art

The art gallery had always been one of Shawn's favourite places, he loved the colours, the textures, even the smell of the freshly painted canvases.

During his residency year of Emergency Medicine this love, had become something more, something sacred. His weekly visits to the local art galleries were the only chance he got to 'just be'. He found something so comforting in the way the colours melded together forming any number of unique patterns, the colours quietly, but boldly expressing the many emotions with fuelled the artist's work.

Maybe it was this that he connected with the most? Life as a medical resident was hectic, always ruled, by other people's, needs, wants, emotions, there never seemed to be time to address your own wants and needs. But time, at the art gallery, Shawn found, gave him an escape, a way to wonder off into a world of bright unchecked colour and vibrancy, away from the harsh unrelenting realities of people's all too often life-threatening and life-changing injuries, away from everything an everyone. Well everyone except one person that was.

He'd first met Auburn three years ago, it was a chance encounter, he wasn't meant to walk into that particular little gallery , and she wasn't meant to working that day, but as fate had it she was and he did.

They'd striked up a friendship fairly quickly, a mutual interest and respect for the works of art and the artist's behind them fuelled many hours of conversation. There had always been an unspoken, but undeniable chemistry between the two of them, but Shawn was busy with work and didn't want to drag someone else into that mess, and Auburn was just too shy to ask

When Shawn found out that Auburn was single, he was shocked. She was gorgeous, with long platinum blonde straight hair and the perfect figure, yet up close she had just the right amount of freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose, breaking the facade of perfection.

Auburn had been equally as confused when Shawn admitted that he too was single. She could understand the reasoning behind it, with a busy job and other commitments including a family that lived out of state, she couldn't however get over, but Shawn was gorgeous like some Greek God doctor-model who had just made his way from the runway and into her gallery. He was tall and lean, but muscular with tattoos scattering his hands and arms, deep brown eyes which seemed to reach your soul with the barest glace and a mop of perfectly kept brown curls- always tamed by hair product which Auburn longed to run her fingers through.

Two years and much flirting later and Shawn had finally gotten up the courage to ask her out l, to which she immediately agreed. He'd taken her to one of his favourite restaurants for dinner and they're talked for hours as if they'd known one another for a lifetime. Shawn told her about his hobbies, medicine was number one for which Auburn admired him for following his passions, closely followed by the guitar and ice hockey, not to mention family, he loved his family, Auburn found this to be an immediate turn-on as she too was close to her family although she couldn't get to see them as often as she liked l, they were across country and an art gallerist's wages certainly did not cover the cost of the ticket.

She found herself telling him all her most embarrassing stories from grade school when she's tripped and fallen into a muddy puddle bigger than she was in front of her entire class, and all about the time she'd been left to sit outside the movie theatre in 8th grade for two hours waiting for a date that would never show.

Shawn was furious at this, exclaiming that he would never do that to a girl, and anyone who would, was a coward, before downing the rest of his Tequila.

Admittedly by then they were both a little drunk and high on life and the presence of each other

When the evening ended Shawn walked Auburn home like the gentleman he was,turning to leave her and she made it to the doorstep, but something in him made him turn around causing him to crash into her body with the force of a truck as she too made her way to him. The two sharing a heated kiss before Auburn turned head down to hide the raging blush and wide smile that lit up her face and made her way inside.

From that moment the two had been inseperable, with Auburn moving into Shawn's condo- a far cry from the crusty old place she'd rented when she first got the city.

They'd done the whole meeting each other's families, both feeling completely at home and welcome, before a year later getting the happy news that they were expecting.

Auburn had been feeling off for over a week when Shawn finally convinced her to go to the doctors and get a blood drawn, a million things flying through his head as to what it might be.

The pregnancy news had completely shocked them both, but as they had sat there together staring down at the piece of paper stating the cause of all her sickness, irritability and hunger there was no denying that it was right.

They were over the moon, elated at the idea of being parents with Shawn referring to the baby as he laid his hands on her stomach as "Their happy little ancient!"

To say that Shawn was protective was an understatement a helicopter parent (to be) might be more apt Auburn thought as Shawn handed her what fleet like her tens of pills as she ate her breakfast before rushing from the room only half dressed to finish getting ready for work which now that he was finished residency (and at the top of his class, which Auburn loved to brag to her friends about) was a local hospital where he was working.

...

The day started normally, Auburn went off to the gallery to start her day l, daydreaming of seeing Shawn who'd been away on training for the last little bit.

Somewhere in this perfect daydream, everything came crashing down. The last thing Auburn was aware of was the screech of tyres and the immense, unstoppable feeling of pain.

...

"Dr Craigen,we need you in triage one." Brian's nurse Amy spoke as she came skidding into the room.

"Can it wait?" He asked looking up briefly from the hand of a young girl he was suturing after she was bitten by a dog.

"No, it can't." He could hear the tension in her voice, so he stood removing his gloves, and paging another doctor to take care of the girl before following her out.

"What is it? Who?"�� He asked as Amy all but ran through the corridor. His question was cut short as they reached the bay in question.

"Just stay still! For God sake, you don't have a choice." He couldn't see the patient's face from outside the door, but he could see that two nurses and an intern were currently trying to restrain her, against her will.

"What on earth do you think youre doing Doctor Tanaran?" Brian asked as he grabbed a pair of gloves and stepped into the room. The intern stepped back from the patient, turning to look at him.

"We need to get an I.V. in her, but she's not cooperating," he responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Brian?" The person on the bed asked. He recognised the voice immediately and sure enough as he stepped around to the other side of the bed, there lay Auburn a close personal friend, someone who he considered to be like a sister, and the girlfriend of one of his best friends, Dr. Shawn Mendes.

She was almost unrecognisable, bloodied, and bruised, tears flooding her face and falling into the linen of the bed staining it a muddy brown as they mixed with the blood flowing from a nasty looking gash on her head, an oxygen mask laying forgotten beside her.

"Auburn?" he asked finally making eye contact, before looking up to find that she had not even been attached to any monitors yet.

"Everyone get your hands off the patient, now." he stared poignantly at the intern that who still had his hands on her.

"She just wouldn't cooperate." he grumbled as he stepped back.

Brian saw red at that, turning to glare before speaking.

"Have you thought about why the patient might be uncooperative? Have you even bothered to ask?" I questioned folding my arms across my chest.

He looked down at the floor, but didn't answer. "Didn't think so. So not only have you terrified an already distressed patient, but you've assaulted the girlfriend of Dr. Shawn Mendes, head of this ER."

His head snapped up at this, a look of shear panic on his face.

"Dr. Craigen I didn't think-"

"That's right," he interrupted. "The same way you haven't thought the three other times I've had to speak to you over the duration of your time here so far.

Get out of this room, and go and tell your resident that I don't want you on my service anymore. Oh and Tanaran," Brian called as the man made his way for the exit. "If I ever see or hear you do something like that ever again, I will personally make sure you're pulled from this program."

He sighed and turned around to see Auburn smiling softly.

"Thanks Bri" she spoke softly, very dazed,reaching her hand out for him to take. Somewhat restricted by the board and collar she had been placed on for spinal management.

"No problem hon. He's got an attitude that one.

So I'm just going to start slowly okay. I'm just going to hook you up to some monitors so that we can check you're heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen. Can I see the chart please? " he asked one of the nurses that was stood meekly in the corner.

"Yes Doctor," she responded before leaving and returning a minute later with the relevant information.

"Okay so it says here, that apart from that gash on your forehead and a fracture to your arm you have some fractured ribs, a suspected bruised spleen and a dislocated ankle as well as possible spinal injuries," he listed off as he took in the notes from the Emergency Services.

"They only got half way through checking her." the other nurse responded. Brian nodded, before placing the chart in the holder at the end of the bed, and returning to Auburn's side. He picked up her hand gently to check her pulse, watching as her eyes fluttered, drooping slightly.

"Auburn, I need you to try and stay awake for me," he spoke, tapping her check softly, moving to check her focal response with his pen light and finding that she had a fairly moderate concussion.

She let out a small groan, but managed to open her eyes, watching me tiredly.

"That's it," he praised. " smiling before grabbing his stethoscope from around his neck and resting it to her chest.

"Deep breathes," he asked quietly. She did as asked, but it was obvious from the way she was wincing every time she inhaled that she was in pain.

"It hurts and I want Shawn." she cried.

"I know you do hon. We'll get him here soon," he promised, paging one of his nurses to go and find him.

"How bad is your pain one to ten?' he asked, watching her closely.

"Eight " she answered.

"Okay I'm going to help ease some of that okay. " he spoke resting the I.V.tray that the previous doctor had set up next to the bed.

"Tell me what you remember? " he asked, trying to keep her talking.

"I was just crossing the street, and a car came out of nowhere. I don't know what happend. I was coming to see Shawn." she added.

"I'm sorry Auburn. " He really did feel sorry for her, not only as a doctor, but as a friend. She and Shawn had barely gotten to see one another the last few weeks, and now this.

"They didn't even stop to help me! " She cried, more tears trailing down her face. He felt so sorry for her, and sick at the thought of how Shawn might react. He just hoped Shawn was able to stay calm, for both of their sakes.

"Small scratch." he warned, inserting the line, and getting her started on some much needed fluids and pain relief. She flinched a little, but didn't pull away. "Okay, so I'm going to get Dave to come and help me with a spinal exam, and he should also be able to determine if we need x-rays for these breaks okay" he explained gently,trying not to scare her.

She looked worried at the mention of x-rays, but he just assumed it was due to her being clastrophobic, as she didn't say anymore on the subject.

He walked out of the room, quietly closing the door after me, and made my way to the nurses station where I found Dave helping a nurse. As an Orthopedic doctor he was often called down for consults, so it was common to find him here.

"Dave, do you mind helping me for a second mate?" he asked, before coming to stand next to him waiting as he finished his conversation.

"Yeah what is it?" he asked as Brian handed him Auburn's chart.

"Auburn?" He asked disbelief clear in his tone, eyebrows raised in confusion. "Auburn as in Shawn's Auburn.What happend?

"Hit and run." he answered. Causing Dave to wince in sympathy. "They didn't even stop!"

"Has anyone gotten a hold of Shawn?" He asked, shaking his head as they made their way to the door of Auburn's room.

"Yeah, but she's quite distressed obviously, so I'm just taking it really slowly. At least until Shawn gets here, unless something is absolutely vital," he told him. Dave nodded before opening the door, and greeting Auburn with a bright smile.

"Hi Auburn, Bri told me you got in a fight with a car?" He asked, causing her to smile faintly.

"What have we got so far?" he asked.

"Large laceration on the forehead and a fracture to the left arm, some fractured ribs, a suspected bruised spleen and a dislocated right ankle as well as possible spinal injuries, she is also complaining of chest pain." Brian added as he hummed at the growing list of ailments.

"Auburn are you having any trouble breathing? " he asked, she nodded letting him listen to her breathing as Brian had. The room was quiet for a few moments except for the beeping of the machines as he moved the stethoscope around her chest, before stepping back with a sigh.

"Slightly muffled left side," he agreed, glancing to the monitors, a look of concern on his face.

"It'll need to get an x-ray, and maybe an ultrasound." Brian nodded, adding,

"I'd also like to get some CTs of the head just to be sure there is no underlying bleeding. Is it okay if we give you some oxygen?" he asked wanting to up her saturation, especially given her breathing troubles.

She made a small jerk of the head in the affirmative, allowing him to place the mask that had lay beside her back on her face.

"Any other pain?" Dave asked lifting the blanket to assess the damage to her lower extremities, she took a few shaky breaths.

"Just my ankle."

" Okay,we just need to turn you and have a feel of your spine. Before we do, anything else, as we don't want to aggregate anything." Dave explained coming back to stand at the head of the bed. "All you need to tell me is if you feel anything sore."

She hummed in resonse, unable to nod due to the collar.

"On three, one,two,three. " Brian spoke before rolling her and holding her steady.

"Any tenderness?" Dave asked as he made his way down her spine, gently feeling for abnormalities.

"No." she answered innnediately.

"Wiggled your toes for me?" he asked as he went to stand by the end of the bed again. She did so, causing them both to breathe a sigh of relief.

Five minutes later and Dave l had decided that x- rays were necessary, due to the precarious nature of the fractures in her arm and ankle and that the fractured ribs did need further investigation, however that no spinal damage had been done, meaning she could be removed from the collar and brace.

"Where's Shawn?" She asked, again as they went about removing the neck brace. Brian was starting to wonder what was taking the nurse so long himself.

-Shawn-

I hadn't been able to focus all day, it was my first day back after being away at a two week trauma conference,and also the first time I would be able to see Auburn and the baby since she was meeting me at work. I sighed as I tried yet again to focus on the swirling numbers of the department's budget on the screen in front of me.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a knock. "Dr. Mendes you're needed down in triage. Urgently." A nurse spoke,making me stand and follow her immediately.

-Third Person-

"He's on his way now hon, but we really should get you up to x-rays okay." Dave spoke, going to start moving the bed.

"Not not until Shawn is here," she begged, catching his hand and stopping him. Seconds later, and Shawn ran through the door, eyes wide as he took in the site of me.

"Auburn, baby,what happend?" he asked, leaning down and gently stroking her head, careful of the cut.

"They didn't stop!A car!" She cried a fresh batch of tears starting.

Shawn was pretty calm considering the situation, Auburn however was not, Brian could see from the monitor that her heart rate was spiking and he tipped his head to Shawn, indicating for him to do something.

"Try and slow your breathing honey," he encouraged softly as it spiked to about 130 when it had previously been sitting about 110. She managed to slow it a little, Shawn not saying anything, merely cupping her face gently and kissing her head.

"Shawn, " Daves spoke, "we really need to get her to x-ray. She has broken ribs, we need to determine how bad."

"No, no x-ray," she interrupted again.

"Sweetheart, you'll be fine, I promise. " he spoke, stroking her hand softly.

"It's not that." She answered, looking away.

"Then what?" Dave asked looking to Shawn.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered. "We found out two weeks ago. We wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Someone get Connor down here," Shawn ordered almost too calmly.

Dave and Brian shared a worried look, if she was pregnant, there was a possibility that something may have effected the baby.

"Page Connor." Dave mumbled to Brian.

"I've already done it ,he's on his way." Briam tried to reassure him, hoping that he would calm a little at the fact that the best ObGyn was going to be consulting.

"No what if something's wrong? " Auburnpanicked, catching on.

"Auburn you need the ultrasound," Shawn spoke firmly.

Her lip wobbled a little causing Shawn to soften his tone a little. "I'm sorry babe, I'm just worried about you. And you need the x-rays," he added.

"Auburn, you need to understand that while normally we wouldn't use x-ray, in this instance it's important, we won't have a healthy baby, unless it's mummy is healthy too yeah? " Dave explained gently.

"O-okay," she agreed reluctantly.

"I think we can however forgo the CT, given that you've been alert the whole time. " Brian spoke earning a smile from her.

"But you won't be allowed to sleep for the next few hours and even once you can we'll need to wake you every hour, on the hour," Dave warned.

Just as we were about to start moving up to radiology having unhooked the bed Connor arrived.

"Sorry I came down as fast as I could," he apologised "Hi Auburn," he smiled as he came over to the side of the bed.

"So you found out you were pregnant two weeks ago?" he asked. She nodded. "And everything has been normal so far? No bleeding?

"No." She answered, nervously, causing Shawn to squeeze her hand a little.

"Okay then, I'm just going to pull your gown up." he did so before reaching for the gel. That was housed next to the portable ultrasound machine that we always kept in the triage bays. They were smaller, and less powerful, but still useful in situations like this. "This will be a little cold," he spoke before placing the gel on her stomach. The room was silent, everyone waiting with baited breath, Auburn with her eyes shut. Connor hit a button on the machine and the room was filled with a rhythmic thumping.

"What's that?" her eyes snapping open to met his.

"Congratulations Auburn, that is your baby's heart beat. Junior seems very happy, very strong heart rate at 150 beats per minute." Connor smiled.

" Oh my God!" she cried reaching up to hug Shawn, before sharing a kiss.

"Judging by the size, bubby's just gone 12 weeks," Connor added, pointing out the measurements on the screen.

Everyone's faces were the same- all smiling from ear to ear.

"Do you want a copy of the scan?" Connor asked.

"Hell yeah!" Shawn agreed making Leah laugh. "This is going on the fridge."

Twenty minutes later, and we had all gone down to radiology, Shawn not having left her side. A permanent smile etched on his face.

"Just stay still for me Auburn." Dave asked,adjusting her leg to get the right image.

Once that was done, and it was determined that nothing needed surgery she was taken back up to a more private room, and Dave set about casting her.

"This will feel a little funny, but it won't hurt now." He reassured her as she became a little fidgety, giving her some laughing gas and upping her pain meds slightly.

It was then Brian's turn to stitch up the wounds on her head, something which should have been very straight forward, but she was terrified, having all but jumped (or gotten as far,which wasn't very) into Shawn's arms.

"It won't hurt Princess, Brian will numb you up good okay?" he spoke, sitting next to her, while Brian sat on a rolly chair by her head, Dave next to Shawn.

"Ready?"

She nodded.

"You're being so brave Princess," Shawn encouraged as she clung to his hand.

"Have you thought of any names for the baby?" Connor asked from where he sat in the corner working, having left briefly while they were at radiology and then returned, wanting to be here for support. Something which Shawn was grateful for.

...

An hour later and they were officially off shift, but had all taken up residency in Auburn's room, wanting to keep an eye on her, as she was a part of the family. They all sat quietly doing paper work, as she rested, fast asleep now that we have deemed it safe.

"How are you feeling Shawn?" Brian asked, looking up to find Shawn watching her.

"I don't know, I have never felt so many emotions in one day!" he laughed, before Auburn broke the silence with a small moan.

" I'm cold," she mumbled, "And sore," she added, visibly shivering.

"Here, budge up." Shane spoke, helping her to move over, before getting into the small bed again.

Connor got up to adjust the pain meds and check her vitals. However she didn't settle. "What's wrong Poppet?" Shawn asked. Sometimes the meds could make patients a little agitated.

"I want to have a bath, I feel gross, and you smell different. " she grumbled, her nose wrinkling. Shawn looked up at Connor and Brian,all laughing.

"How much of the stuff did you give her?

"I'm serious." she pouted, swotting Shawn's shoulder. "I don't like the smell of the scrubs. It doesn't smell like you."

"How 'bout this?" he asked bending down to reach for his bag, and grabbing a hoodie.

"Much better," she spoke, nuzzling her head into him.

"Now I'll help give you a pat down with a cloth if you want?" he offered. You can't really have a proper bath yet cause of all the wiring and your cast."

She nodded

"Just sit up slowly okay. You might feel a little dizzy." Brian warned, standing up to help too.

Connor went ahead to start the water for her while Dave came to help move the wiring as they supported her to hop to the bathroom. Eventually Shawn just picked her up,being extra careful of her ribs, holding her under her shoulders instead,and cradling her somewhat like an infant.

Half hour later, and Shawn had successful sponge bathed her, the rest of the group having gone back to their work while they waited.

"Get some rest Princess,you've got a little piece of art growing in there, you and Jellybean need it, he whispered as he placed her back in bed, rubbing her stomach softly.

"Love you," she whispered, already half asleep.

"Love you more," he replied kissing her head, they all shared a smile, because at that moment, all was right with the world.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #doctor!shawn #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn

49 notes · View notes

samtheflamingomain · 3 years

Text

25.21%

I've been sober for 3 months today. 92 days. 25.21% of 2021.

I could've posted more updates, more milestones (it took a LOT not to post on Day 69) but I wanted to kind of save it up for a Big Day. It was also a decent way to continue to incentivize my continued sobriety: a full pass to do a shameless, hardcore bragging sesh.

Anyway, this post comes in 2 parts: the TL;DR for those who only want the gist, then more in depth on my ability to stay sober, the lasting effects of rehab, etc.

I tried my damnedest to pare this absolute novel down, but it's long, so feel free to dip out if you just get bored. Onward!

TL;DR: I went to rehab the beginning of July for 3 weeks and haven't had a drop of alcohol since. I've lost weight, I'm more healthy, my daily anxiety level went from 8 to 2, I haven't had an anxiety attack in 3 months, and everything generally just seems... easier. My memory and concentration have improved. I've been productive and I've been meditating every day. I'm saving money, and while I sometimes fantasize about getting drunk, that's usually all it is.

Honestly, it's been much easier than I expected, but I think a lot of that is because for the first 3 weeks, the time in which I would usually break down and start drinking again when trying to get sober myself, was spent behind a locked door. So far I haven't had any days where I was close to giving in. I haven't had many days where I've been depressed about it, missing it or really tempted. Maybe 3-4. I've basically just gotten on with my life as if alcohol doesn't exist.

To wrap up the short version for those ready to peace out, I'll leave it with a bit of advice.

I don't feel qualified to give any specific advice, because my story feels very unique to me, and I honestly don't think what worked for me will work for MOST people. Sometimes people spend a year in rehab and still drive straight to the liquor store on their way home.

That said, there's one thing that I've found pretty universally true: you have to really want it. For a while, I floated about without much of a "reason" to stay sober. I don't have a spouse, kids or a job I've been fired from, so I didn't see the point.

It's taken me a while, but after not being "convinced" by a few superficial "reasons" like weight loss and saving money, I thought I needed something more... permanent? Consequential? I now realize that my "reason" for getting sober at a young age after only a few years of alcoholism is that I don't want it to get to a point where I'm hurting other people, drinking myself into multiple lasting health problems... I don't want it to become permanent or consequential.

Anyway, that's my two cents. If you do have something like kids or trouble keeping a job, definitely use that as your reason. But for anyone who's a pretty "functional" alcoholic like I was, "not letting it go on long enough to become disfunctional" is a good enough reason.

This is going to get stupid long, so feel free to walk away now, just glad you read this much and it really does mean the world when people listen to what I have to say.

Now some more things in depth. I'll go in chronological order: what made me get sober, what I took from rehab (and what I left), and how it's been the past few months.

I started drinking when I got kicked out, manic out of my mind and homeless unable to sleep. It took a while until I was able to sleep without alcohol, but by then the addict brain had taken over. I'd tried a few times to get sober myself, but I never made it more than a week without, and always got back to daily drinking after a few months maximum.

Some people need a "wake up call", a "last straw" or a "rock bottom". Something external to make them realize they can't go on as they are. For me, the catalyst was my health, which is more of an internal reason I suppose. I didn't have a heart attack or liver failure, but my anxiety was getting uncontrollable and I knew it was directly tied to my drinking.

My life had been starting to feel tolerable, and I was more financially secure than ever before. Things were looking up... except for the alcoholism. This is a weird analogy but the only one that makes sense to express why, if I was doing so well on paper, I decided to go to rehab: you have to sweep before you mop. If I hadn't been in the place I was, I don't think I would've been successful at rehab. I had to sweep up the cat turds from the floor of my life before I was able to mop up the shit stains with sobriety. I know, I'm a true wordsmith.

When I finally called the hotline that hooked me up with a bunch of different rehabs, I knew I was in for a wait. It was about 5 months from that call to checking in, which isn't too bad considering I've been on the waitlist for a neuropsychiatrist in ALL OF CANADA for 4 years.

That brings us to July 12th, Rehab Day One. I've gone in depth in multiple other posts but to touch on it briefly, if I had to describe my experience in a sentence I'd say "the place I went to got very lucky with me".

What this means is that, of the 5 people in my group, I think this exact program was only ever going to help me. At the same time, I didn't even know what I would need, but this exact program was 90% of it. I didn't think 3 weeks would be long enough, but for me it was. The hours-long, repetitive, basic-ass CBT groups held 5 times a day 7 days a week was absolute torture for everyone but myself. While it was a drag to spend an hour on defining what a cognitive distortion is, the routine and repetition, something I've never gotten out of any outpatient program, helped me to really absorb the information and let it rewire my brain.

I've always said that I'm someone who should be spending an hour a day with a therapist for the rest of my life, and while that's not even remotely feasible, this was as close as it's ever gotten, and it proved me right, because it worked. I've done biweekly therapy for a short time but even that didn't come close to the way my brain changed in those 3 short weeks.

This program required absolute commitment and open-mindedness. This isn't because it was hard work or difficult concepts, but quite the opposite. While I hate the entire concept of art therapy being used as a cure-all for mental illness, I willingly got out of my bed, went downstairs and tried doing a dot mandala for an hour because I'm willing to try anything to get better. A lot of people might think they are, but really aren't. To use the mandala as an example, one guy was really into it, I wasn't, but we both finished. The other 3 tried, messed up a few times, and then scrolled through their phones. When I say this program necessitates complete engagement, that's not a compliment. It shouldn't be a chore to engage with the program. It shouldn't take me actively saying "I know I've known this basic concept since 4th grade, but maybe hearing it again will help" to get something out of a rehab program. So again, in every way, I got lucky, and so did they.

Before I finish with the rehab section, having had a few months to reflect on the whole thing, I now have an endless list of things wrong with it. I arrived, greeted by the most jaded and disillusioned of staff, and quickly became disturbed and at points concerned with just how negligent the staff are.

Maybe it's because I've been on the psych ward where they won't even let you have shoelaces and shine a flashlight on your face every half hour through the night, but it could've been so incredibly easy to sneak in alcohol. I brought 2 full water bottles, fully expecting to have to dump them out upon arrival, but they said "nah it's fine". Is it though?

Then there were actual counsellors there who were... okay. I recall one, the one I thought was the smartest, reading a handout aloud and coming across the word "delve" as in "let's delve into..." and stumbled, then said she doesn't know that word. The room was silent. As she pulled up Google on the screen I said, "it means to dive into it". She Googled it anyway. Synonyms include "dive in". If that was the only example I wouldn't mention it, but this was the first of at least 10 words she had do Google, none past a 10th grade level, from HER OWN MATERIAL. From that point on it became clear that they had no fucking idea what they were doing.

We had one last one-on-one counselling session before we left and the counsellor just filled in boxes to questions on her computer, rephrasing everything I said to fit into the buzzwords and "lessons" we'd "learned". Example. Me: I do think I'm better able to catch myself thinking 'oh I can just have one drink' and say 'no I can't'." Her: "Okay, so would you say that you can recognize negative cognitive distortions like permission-giving thoughts and counter them with a more rational and less emotional mind?" Like girl, blink twice if your boss is holding your family hostage. She gave me some papers, detailing all the online courses they were signing me up for and options for more treatment they'd be sending me, a phone number to call and a phone appointment for the next Monday. I never got that call, the phone number is a hotline, I never got a single email from them, and given how shitty they really are at their jobs, I didn't feel the inclination to try and get those resources. If they even exist in the first place.

In summation, it was a place where it was physically impossible to get alcohol. That's really all I can say in its favor. Oh, and they let you have your cell phone.

Now on our timeline I'm back home. I want to kind of analyze why it's been easy for me.

I often said that my main goal of going to rehab was to lock me away from alcohol long enough for it to reset my brain. Most people thought that was naïve, but that's exactly what happened. But I'm well aware that my experience of "instantly became sober and literally hasn't had a single hard day in 3 months" is absurdly unusual.

I put this down to a few things. Firstly, I'm on seven different meds for my mental health. Almost all of them have their effects dulled or even eliminated when you drink. So when I noticed my mood, fatigue, memory, concentration etc all getting better at once - right about as I left rehab, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that all those meds started working properly.

Secondly, I've been keeping myself busy, but that's something I've always been good at. Now I specifically choose to undertake projects that will eat up a lot my time and put me in a state of flow. I recently made an entire card game from scratch, and let me tell you, I didn't think of alcohol for a week.

Thirdly, my other goals now get in the way of alcohol. I'm getting old and my body is deteriorating. But I've always wanted to do just one last season of gymnastics. Well, I need to lose weight for that to happen. I've already lost 35 pounds, and after another 20 I'll be ready to go. Also, I used to spend more on alcohol per month than rent. Even though I've done a few shopping sprees lately, I haven't come remotely close to how much I was spending before.

I want it more than anything. I want to be sober more than I want one night of "fun" that will more likely than not lead me back to where I was a year ago. I never want to need anything as much as I needed alcohol.

Lastly, just a few more random thoughts.

A lot of people, myself included, worried about the fact that I work at a bar as a cook, but honestly the entire time I'm there I'm thinking about food, not alcohol. If I'm hanging out with some regulars before/after, I can watch them drink and be perfectly fine with my coffee, because the coffee is $2, and I used to spend $20 after every work shift.

I also decided in rehab to start taking better care of myself as best I could. This started with getting my second vax which I'd been putting off, then an eye appointment, then new glasses, then a dentist appointment where I was informed I need to do $3000 worth of work on my implant that's erroding my bone matter, so that sucks, but I caught it early. I've also been meditating every day. In just 3 months, I've made pretty big improvements to my self-care and my daily routine.

One of my fears about sobriety was "missing out" on "having fun". A few days ago, all my housemates got together to play Mario Party, and it was kind of my first night doing something social while sober. It was a breath of fresh air - I wasn't constantly running to piss, I didn't worry about running out of alcohol, I didn't get sloppy and obnoxious as I can sometimes do. I even came very very close to winning my first game of MP. When I reflected on the night, I realized that, if I'd been getting drunk the whole time, I would've sucked at the minigames, been a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to be teamed with me, and likely would've stopped caring about the game itself after the first few turns.

Yesterday I was making my 4th pot of coffee of the day when I realized there was a full glass of wine just sitting on the counter. I had absolutely no idea where the hell it came from - nobody in my house drinks wine. I shrugged and poured that sweet sweet bean juice. It was only when I sat down and took a sip of coffee did I find myself thinking automatically, "this tastes so much better than wine". I only realized then that it had been rose wine, the only kind I've ever been able to tolerate. It was the ultimate moment of possible temptation, and the thought of just chugging that glass - as I may've done in the past - didn't even cross my mind.

I'm so glad to be where I am. I'm about to undergo some serious financial changes - i.e. going absolutely broke - but drinking isn't gonna help that, so I'm cautiously optimistic.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

#rehab #alcoholism #alcohol tw #sam #recovery #sobriety

2 notes · View notes

pinkpeonyprincessblog · 3 years

Text

A Little Piece of Art

The art gallery had always been one of Shawn's favourite places, he loved the colours, the textures, even the smell of the freshly painted canvases.

Shawn was furious at this, exclaiming that he would never do that to a girl, and anyone who would, was a coward, before downing the rest of his Tequila.

Admittedly by then they were both a little drunk and high on life and the presence of each other

From that moment the two had been inseperable, with Auburn moving into Shawn's condo- a far cry from the crusty old place she'd rented when she first got the city.

They'd done the whole meeting each other's families, both feeling completely at home and welcome, before a year later getting the happy news that they were expecting.

Auburn had been feeling off for over a week when Shawn finally convinced her to go to the doctors and get a blood drawn, a million things flying through his head as to what it might be.

They were over the moon, elated at the idea of being parents with Shawn referring to the baby as he laid his hands on her stomach as "Their happy little ancient!"

...

The day started normally, Auburn went off to the gallery to start her day l, daydreaming of seeing Shawn who'd been away on training for the last little bit.

Somewhere in this perfect daydream, everything came crashing down. The last thing Auburn was aware of was the screech of tyres and the immense, unstoppable feeling of pain.

...

"Dr Craigen,we need you in triage one." Brian's nurse Amy spoke as she came skidding into the room.

"Can it wait?" He asked looking up briefly from the hand of a young girl he was suturing after she was bitten by a dog.

"No, it can't." He could hear the tension in her voice, so he stood removing his gloves, and paging another doctor to take care of the girl before following her out.

"What is it? Who?" He asked as Amy all but ran through the corridor. His question was cut short as they reached the bay in question.