#Ed is part of trauma team

[crystalrainfall]

Cyberpunk au continues!

Little extra comic:

[twelvemonkeyswere]

ofmd season 1: "hurt people hurt people" mostly from the perspective of Stede, who copes with his trauma through avoidance, hurting himself by hurting those around him

ofmd season 2: "hurt people hurt people" mostly from the perspective of Ed, who copes with his trauma through violence, hurting himself by hurting those around him

both seasons have subplots about healing and growth, about finding love, about what to do with those parts of yourself that are drowning you, and what NOT to do with them, and those storylines and themes help support the main ones, seen through the eyes of our protagonists.

in particular, the parallel deaths in the last episodes of each season (Badminton dying in front of Stede, Izzy dying in front of Ed) have distinct thematic beats as well, in different moments of the main characters' storylines, but are still connected in a similar way: both Badminton and Izzy represent the external voices and pressures that have etched themselves in Ed and Stede and have forced them to hide their true selves in order to survive. in Stede's case, the pressure and bullying was always kind of detached, an overwhelming indifference and casual hatred, while for Ed, the pressure and bullying was always up close and personal, given to him by the very people who claimed to appreciate him. that's why Badminton is a villain we don't care much about, and Izzy is a character that was much more fleshed out by the end, because sometimes the call comes from inside the house, and I thought it was nice the team tried to incorporate some of those nuances into the storyline to help develop the main themes.

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 17

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: *Gives you a box of virtual tissues.* Just in case. 😘

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: Macho angst ahead, hurt/comfort, major, major fluff…

Part 17: More Than Words Can Say

Mount Sinai Hospital was one of the largest private hospitals in the city. 

Fortunately, it was also the closest to Vought Tower, or what once had been the focal point of the superhero industry. It had been reduced to mere rubble and whatever dilapidated parts still stood. 

All the news outlets were covering the tower’s collapse, and speculating on what could’ve created the blast that made the entire city tremble—not unlike last year’s incident, when Soldier Boy killed the most powerful supe in the world.

In the hospital, M.M. walked through the Emergency Department until he found Yvette and her son, Devon. They sat beside each other on a single cot, now joined by Yvette’s husband Chris while she signed her discharge papers. She’d gotten off with a minor concussion and a bandage over her temple. 

“Just checking in on you guys,” M.M. said. Yvette smiled, but she asked about you. 

“She’s in surgery,” he told her. 

Yvette nodded, though tears welled up in her eyes. Chris rubbed her back and held his son’s shoulder. 

“Please call me with any news on her,” Yvette asked. 

“You got it,” M.M. said.

“And please,” she said, holding her son. “Thank Soldier Boy for us.”

M.M. paused at that. 

Seeing the family was well in hand, he returned to the trauma wing. There in the waiting room sat the whole team, minus Butcher, who’d been admitted to the hospital as well after the ED doctors didn’t like what they’d found on his lab reports. (But M.M. would look into that later. Hughie was with him now anyway.)

That left Frenchie, Kimiko, and Annie to wait for any news on you. Even Grace had arrived an hour ago. 

But M.M.’s attention was drawn to the dusty motherfucker standing near the hallway. 

Soldier Boy leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. The collar of his supe suit was undone to give his neck and chest some breathing room. He’d removed his gloves, and an empty gallon jug of water lied at his feet. 

He was covered in a fine layer of soot and grime, though he’d since washed his hands and face to the best of his ability. He was also flanked by his two hired men, Frank Cardoza and Lorenzo Rivales. 

Grace had run a quick background check on both, and as M.M. had learned, they were ex-Marines Soldier Boy had picked up in Colombia, while he was busy infiltrating a drug cartel.   

Fucking figures, M.M. thought, shaking his head as he watched the man. Grace stood and joined him.

“He’s not just gonna fuck off back to South America,” he told her. “You realize that right?”

She considered that with a tilt of her head. “Let’s just see what happens here.”

As if right on cue, your surgeon made his way down the hall and over to the waiting group. Ben pushed off the wall and went to meet him, as did Grace, Annie, and M.M. 

Annie and Ben eyed each other with mistrust and annoyance, respectively, but then he ignored her to regard the surgeon with a terse, expectant gaze.  

The doctor was a graying man in his fifties. He seemed to internally brace himself before he spoke, glancing at Ben first before the others. 

“We’ve repaired the damaged muscle around her right leg. The femur is broken. We also addressed the wound near her shoulder,” he said. “However, the rebar did nick her heart. She’ll need additional surgery to repair it.”

Ben sensed a but coming. He crossed his arms. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

The doctor gave a nod and a short sigh. 

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” he explained. “We’ve given her a transfusion, of course, but she’s in a delicate state right now.”

“So why’re you wasting time? Do your fucking job,” Ben snapped. Grace shot him a glance, but addressed the doctor herself.

“What are her odds, doctor?” she asked. Ben eyed her with a glare. She ignored him for the time being. 

“She needs this now. But, there is a chance she won’t make it out of surgery at this stage,” the surgeon replied. “The OR will be available in thirty minutes…so this would be the time to be with her, just in case she’s unable to get through this.”

“Excuse me?” Ben said. 

His tone was dark and deep with grit, and the doctor stepped back. No one dared attempt to hold Ben back, but Grace quickly thanked the doctor and urged him to move forward with prepping you for surgery. 

Loco shared a saddened look with Frank, who watched their boss with a deepening frown. 

Annie turned to Ben with a measure of sympathy, hidden underneath her irritation at his attitude and her worry for you. You were still her friend, and she felt guilty for how cold she’d been treating you lately. And she could see, at the very least, that this man cared about you. 

“Look, can you just calm down a bit? We’re all here hoping she pulls through,” Annie said. 

M.M. stood behind her, silent, supportive. But Ben just ignored her, and everyone else for that matter. 

He stalked down the hallway. And when he turned a corner, out of eyeshot, he growled and punched a hole deep into the closest wall.

Hughie perked up when Butcher finally started to rouse in his hospital bed. They had him on a hefty dose of morphine. 

He blinked his weary eyes, his head rolling over on the pillow. His lips quirked when he noticed Hughie, who was glaring at him. 

“Watching me sleep now?” Butcher remarked. “Pretty fuckin’ creepy, Hugh.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Hughie said. 

That was something Butcher couldn’t refute. He nodded. “I see they told you.”

“When were you gonna say something?” Hughie said. “When you fucking dropped dead?”

“Probably not even then,” Butcher teased. But when he took in the younger man’s face, all he saw was his little brother, Lenny. Butcher sighed. 

“Ain’t nothing any of us can do about it.”

“Fucking cancer?” Hughie said incredulously. “You could’ve gotten treatment.”

“Would’ve bought me a few more months, maybe,” Butcher admitted. That fell between them for a moment with stony silence. 

“It’s all right,” he added. “I’ve had my fucking time. Got to see the life drain from that golden cunt’s eyes…got to let my girl rest easy.”

Hughie didn’t buy that. Or maybe, he just didn’t want to. His eyes burned, both with emotion and determination. He stood from his seat and set out to find Grace. If there was anything that could help Butcher, she would know. 

While the others went down to the cafeteria for a bite to eat, Frank sat in the waiting room with Loco beside him and Dr. Baker’s briefcase on his lap.

He was sorting through its contents while Loco sat with crossed arms and slumping shoulders. He looked over at Frank’s stoic profile with a frown.

He was older, but not by much. They’d gone through one fresh hell after another together, and somehow, Frank always managed to pull their asses out of the wringer. It seemed Frank was trying to do the same for their boss. 

It was funny, actually. Soldier Boy wasn’t their first contractor. You were their first kidnapping though. Neither he or Frank had felt good about it when Antonio brought you back to the mansion in Medellin, but they’d agreed to do a job. Guarding you became part of that job. 

And yet, you had somehow reminded both Frank and Loco that they used to be respectable members of society. They used to have families, friends. They had once been soldiers. Good men. Maybe that was why they’d grown fond of you over the past few months. 

And Frank…well, Loco knew the man had his reasons for wanting to be done with this work. Loco couldn’t blame him; he was feeling tired himself. 

“Found anything good?” Loco asked in Spanish. Frank’s dark brows had drawn together in new interest.

“More than good,” he said. He looked up, but didn’t find Soldier Boy in the waiting room. “Where the hell did he go?”

Loco pointed to the reception desk. “Try asking someone.”

With a sharp sigh, Frank gave Loco the briefcase. “Guard that with your fucking life. Don’t let anyone from the CIA take it from you.”

Loco gave him a look of offense. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, bro. Fucking hurts.” 

Rolling his eyes, Frank got up and went over to the reception desk. 

“Excuse me,” he said. There seemed to be no one at the reception desk. Granted, it was late at night, and they technically weren’t supposed to be there. Grace Mallory had worked out an agreement with the hospital to allow them all to stay overnight. 

He didn’t have to wait too long though, as an on-duty nurse came over with a clipboard in hand. Her red hair caught his eye, along with her pretty smile. 

“Hi there. Can I help you?” she asked. 

Frank faltered, just for a moment. But he cleared his throat and met her eyes. 

“Did you happen to see which way Soldier Boy went?” he asked.

She gave him a wan smile and pointed down the hall, to the left. “That ‘a way. Think he had an argument with the wall over there.”

Frank followed her gaze and caught sight of the hole in the wall. He frowned. 

“Sorry about that,” he said. 

The nurse gave him a sideways look. “No worries, hun. It’s not your fisticuff outline in the wall, now is it?”

Once again, Frank didn’t know quite what to say to her slightly teasing smile. But he returned it, more reserved, but genuine. 

“Thank you,” he said, with a nod. Then he remembered then what he needed to do. 

And he took off brusquely down the hall. 

It took him a few minutes to pull his head together, but Ben eventually worked up his nerve to go and see you. 

You were still drugged out asleep, of course. He stood outside the large window of your private room in the Intensive Care Unit. He wouldn’t go in though. Part of him refused to believe it had gotten to this. 

And the reality, that this was his fault. He’d caused the blast that destroyed the tower. His fault he hadn’t gotten to you sooner.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you’d told him once. 

You were right then, and it still held up now. 

So, no…he wouldn’t go in there, into your room. The truth was, he couldn’t. 

But Ben’s awareness prickled before he noticed, Frank had joined him. Ben tolerated it. While he wanted to be alone, maybe part of him (one he wouldn’t acknowledge) craved some kind of company. 

“You’ll get paid, don’t you fucking worry,” he said dryly. 

“That’s not the only reason I’m here,” Frank said. 

It felt like a confession. Ben didn’t reply though; he was focused on your pale face, covered by the breathing mask. Shallow puffs of air fogged the inside of it while your heart monitor clipped on.

“There’s another solution here,” Frank said. 

Ben gave him a cursory side glance. “She wouldn’t take Compound V. Not even to save her fucking life.”

“That didn’t stop you before,” Frank mentioned. 

Ben didn’t answer, but he’d been internally debating it ever since he’d spoken with the surgeon. 

“All right, get it over here,” he said. “The temporary stuff.” 

Frank rose a brow. He’d been curious enough to try testing the man. But now, he frowned.

“She won’t forgive you,” he pointed out. 

“What’re you, devil’s fucking advocate? She’ll get the fuck over it,” Ben snapped. 

But after his initial anger subsided…he knew his subordinate was right. 

“She’ll be alive to hate me,” he said, more honestly.  

Frank inclined his head. “There could be another way.” 

Ben glanced over at him. 

“She lost a lot of blood,” Frank said. Ben frowned.  

“They’ve given her fucking blood transfusions—” 

“Yeah, normal blood. A supe’s blood is stronger. Yours could probably heal her,” Frank said. “But, the only one who can break your skin is you.”

Ben eyed him in suspicion. “Who told you that?” 

“Read it somewhere,” Frank said evasively. 

Ben huffed in response, but as that realization truly sunk into his mind, his lips pressed together in new determination. He left Frank to start a brusque pace down the hall. 

He ignored the red-headed nurse calling at him at the reception desk when he shoved through a locked security door, into the OR unit. He searched until he found your surgeon and pulled him from the sink he was washing his hands in.

The man gasped with fright, though he tried to hide it looking up at Ben. “What the hell’re you doing?”

“I’m making a donation,” said Ben. He raised a blunt nail to his wrist. “You better hurry the fuck up, because I’m about to open a vein.”

It was morning by the time another doctor returned to deliver an update on your progress: the “treatment” was working. Your wounds had knitted closed within an hour following the blood transfusion, and you no longer needed surgery. They had also x-rayed your leg and found that the bone was whole once again. Even your broken ribs had healed.

Ben nodded at the news. He didn’t respond, and just started walking down the hall. Grace, Annie, and M.M. stared after him with mixed reactions of confusion and curiosity. 

“Where are you going?” Annie asked. She was exhausted; all of them were. 

The supe ignored her though. M.M. shared a look with her before he decided to follow the man. 

Meanwhile, Ben once again stopped in the middle of the hallway when he was out of view. He took in a slow, steadying breath of relief, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Congratulations. After today, you’re gonna get your statue put back up,” M.M. said.

Ben turned around to stare back at the man, schooling his face into a stoic frown. 

“Yvette and her son are going to be fine, by the way,” M.M. added, as he crossed his arms.

Ben paused slightly at that, filing that information away with secret satisfaction. 

To M.M., he merely raised a brow. “You got something to say, or are you going to keep wasting my fucking time?”  

“You think saving one black kid makes you a hero?” M.M. asked, point blank. “Taking down Vought. Saving her. What does that all mean to you?”

Ben frowned in irritation. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“Just answer the question. Be honest for once in your motherfuckin’ life,” M.M. said. “Do you really think you’re a hero?”

Silence fell between them. 

Ben didn’t know what it was about this guy. Maybe it was his persistence, or the fact that he’d pulled you out of the rubble and got you to a hospital in time to save your life. 

But Ben actually considered the question.

Killing Stan Edgar and Black Noir. Saving you. He’d done it all for selfish reasons. The kid…that was something else. His face stuck in Ben’s mind, how he’d trusted the superhero, like dumb kids were supposed to do.

But in that moment, carrying the tower on his back and knowing he was the only barrier between a mountain of hot rubble and this one kid…Ben hadn’t wanted to fail. 

And still. You are the reason I needed saving…

It wasn’t really saving the fucking day if he started it, was it?

Ben’s lips turned on a humorless smile. Still, he had saved the kid. And his mom. And you. For now, that was enough.

“Looks like I am,” said Ben.

But he met M.M.’s stare, briefly allowing him to glimpse beyond a wall of arrogance and pride.

And Ben walked away. M.M. watched him go in silent contemplation.

Grace intercepted Ben before he could visit you in the ICU. 

Christ. What the fuck now? he thought sourly. 

She gestured for a word, and with an annoyed look, he followed her down the hall.

“I’ll get to the point,” she said. “Butcher is sharing a floor with your girlfriend, down in Oncology.”

Ben raised a brow. That prick had cancer? Par for the fucking course, if he said so himself. 

“So?” he remarked. 

Grace sighed. She’d expected that reaction. “They’ve given him weeks, but the way he’s been pushing himself, more likely it’s days. Taking the untested Temp V long-term has had its adverse side effects…if you were to make another blood donation, I’ll make it worth your while.” 

So now his blood was some fucking wonder drug? Hell no, Ben thought. 

“You’re asking me to save the guy who’s double-crossed me, tried to hunt me down, tried to end me?” he said, with a dark, incredulous chuckle. “You can fuck right off, sweetheart.”

She grated at the sweetheart remark, but Grace leveled him with steely blue eyes.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be on ice right now,” she pointed out. 

Ben’s lips pursed. He’d really like to snap this bitch’s fucking neck on principle…but then he thought about it. He could work this into his favor. 

“You know what. I’m having a good day, so maybe I’m feeling fucking generous,” he said. His mouth edged into a smirk. “But I think it’s time we renegotiated our contract. Don’t you?”

Grace stared up at him, and she inhaled a deep breath. 

“Fine.”

You slowly woke up in a hospital room, in a paper gown with an IV drip and a heart monitor. Which made sense, as the events of yesterday came back to you in a rush. 

But beyond feeling relieved to be alive, you also felt extremely well-rested. You didn’t feel like a building fell on you. 

What kind of masterful drugs are they giving me? You tried to read your chart on the wall, but you didn’t see any pain medication on there. 

Annie popped into your private recovery room. Her face brightened when she saw that you were awake. 

“Hey, hun! How do you feel?” she asked, lowering into a chair at your bedside. You wouldn’t know that this chair had been occupied by various members of the team over the past few hours, including M.M., Frenchie, Frank, and even Grace. 

“Great, actually,” you replied. But now you frowned. “I shouldn’t feel great.”

You remembered nearly being crushed under a pile of rubble. You remembered falling on a piece of rebar, and unable to move your crushed leg. You remembered the worry in Ben’s eyes… 

And panic stung at yours.

“Did they give me Compound V?” your voice shook when you asked. Annie calmed you down with a shake of her head and a reassuring hand on your arm. 

The door to your room opened once again. Ben’s frame filled up the doorway. When his eyes met yours, your breath caught in your throat. He was still in his supe suit, and with his hands resting on his belt, he strutted inside the room. 

M.M., Frenchie, Frank, Loco, and Kimiko came in behind him and at least looked showered. Ben looked like he hadn’t even done that much, nor slept all night.

“It wasn’t the V,” he said at last. “Just a little blood donation. Seemed to work like a charm.”

His resulting grin had a bit of charm in it as well. Your head tilted in confusion.

"Whose blood?" you asked.

"Mine," he said. His expression faded, slightly more serious.

You found yourself slowly smiling, though your brows still furrowed in surprise. He gave me his blood…instead of Compound V.

While you tried to wrap your mind around the gravity of that, you reached for the pitcher of water on the rolling tray beside you. You grasped the pitcher, but the plastic actually crunched in your hand. You gasped and moved your hand over so the water inside wouldn’t spill all over you.

Ben raised a brow. 

The room fell silent as all eyes stared at you. When the water finished pouring out onto the floor, you gently set it back down on the tray. 

“Seems you got some of his strength in the deal,” Annie remarked. 

“Great, there’s two of them,” Hughie quipped with a grin. 

“Well, that’s probably just temporary,” M.M. sighed. “Hopefully.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, and it brought a slight grin to Ben’s lips. 

After a bit of well wishing, everyone cleared out of your room to let you rest up…except for Ben, Frank, and Loco. 

“What are you guys going to do now?” you asked of the latter two. Loco cracked his knuckles. 

“Got another job lined up in private security,” he revealed. “I’ve lost the taste for drug running. Nearly lost a damn toe on the last one.”

You laughed. “Well, thanks for doing one more job here.”

“Anything for el Capitán,” Loco said, giving Ben a respectful nod. “He pays exceedingly well.”

You raised a brow at Ben, who shrugged with a cocky grin. Smiling, you turned to Frank, who was sitting in the chair beside your bed. 

“And you?” you asked. Frank gave you a rare smile. 

“Going home,” he said. “To my daughter.”

Your eyes began to sting, but you tried to blink away the beginnings of tears. You nodded and squeezed his arm. 

“Give her a big hug for me. And thank you again…for everything,” you said, even though you realized that thanking your former guard keep was strange. Still, there had been no part of your kidnapping that was normal in the least. 

Frank hesitated, but he covered your hand with his. 

Though he caught the way Ben’s face tightened, and Frank let go of you. He stood with Loco, giving you and Ben a final nod. Then the two men left your room and disappeared down the hall.

Part of you felt melancholy, like chapters of your life were closing. But you also felt like new ones were waiting in the wings.

Your gaze turned to Ben, who stood near your bed.

He was looking over your chart to see if the doctors needed anything else before you were discharged. But your soft voice called to him, earning his attention. You beckoned him closer.

He went over and sat down on the edge of your bed, laying a hand on your thigh. You reached out for his arm. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

Ben scoffed, though a hint of humor glinted in his eyes. “For what? Saving your reckless ass for the millionth time?”

“For saving Yvette and her son,” you replied with a smile. “And yeah, all that other stuff.” 

Your hand slid down his arm and slipped into his hand. Your fingers curled around his palm. 

“Really. Thank you…” 

Tears welled up in your eyes again. You still couldn’t fucking believe he opened up one of his own veins and gave you his blood. He gave a public hospital his blood in order to save you. 

He could’ve easily slipped you V24 again, or worse, the permanent stuff. But he didn’t just save you. He’d respected your wishes. 

What you wanted to say next got stuck in your throat.

Ben had something hiding behind his eyes, like he was reluctant to show you his real emotions. But when he focused on your face, his hand tightened on yours. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak. He only let go of your hand to brush a falling tear from your cheek. His lips twitched at a smile.

“Come on now, baby doll. You’re tougher than that.”

You choked on a laugh as more of your tears slipped down your warming cheeks. “Nope. I’m actually not.”

“Hmm. Could’ve fooled me,” Ben said. You matched his grin with a beaming smile of your own.  

Slowly, you pushed yourself up and took his dirty face in your hands. You guided him down to you, and you pressed your lips to his. 

He allowed it with his usual demanding, fervent kiss. But then it slowed. He held your wrist to keep your hand in place on his cheek, and his thumb drew bath and forth over your skin. 

You parted from him, pulling back enough to see his face. There was so much you wanted to say…but maybe right now, it was too much. 

You met him with another tearful kiss.

Before you were officially discharged from the hospital, you had one more visitor. 

Grace was once again there to debrief you. This time though, Ben sat at your side on the bed, a silent statue who regarded the woman coolly. He seemed to be tolerating her presence with more ease than usual, and you wondered why.

“You’re going on medical leave,” she informed you. “For three months, and then a psychiatrist will need to clear you for duty.”

Part of you wanted to argue, considering you were completely healed of your injuries. But you knew you needed a break from the S.A.—from all of this. 

“Your mother and sister will be brought out of witness protection soon, after we determine that the threat is sufficiently neutralized,” she said. “You can return home today as well.”

You could finally go back to your apartment…though the thought didn’t call to you as much as it should have. You glanced over at Ben.

“Is this the part where you try to ship him back to Colombia?” you asked. 

“That was the agreement,” Grace said wryly. You frowned, trying to blink away the tears forming once again in your eyes.

You didn’t want to lose him, but you also didn’t want to give up your life here. You didn’t want to leave the S.A., or your family, or your friends. Ben put you out of your misery, however.

“We renegotiated,” he said. 

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Grace explained, “In exchange for his assistance in another case, he can stay in the U.S. on a trial basis. As long as he agrees to live within the law.”

You didn’t entirely trust Grace. Ben would be watched at every moment. That was a given, but considering he still didn’t have full control over his nuclear power, you were surprised Grace would allow him free roam within U.S. borders. 

“And, provided, he agrees to a relocation. Preferably not in a densely populated area,” Grace added.

There it is, you frowned. You shared a look with him, and you could see he wasn’t entirely on board with this. You had no doubt he’d agreed to her demands by lying through his teeth. 

You turned back to Grace.

“What if he becomes a contractor for Supe Affairs,” you proposed. “There may be some fallout after Vought’s collapse, and more of their records to go through. Other labs to clear out. Ben would be a lot of help, if he’s willing.”

You glanced at Ben again. He met your eyes, then Grace’s, and he nodded marginally. He was getting bored of the heat in South America anyway. 

Grace heaved a sigh. Ben’s lips formed a smirk. 

“Oh, relax. I just ended Vought. You’d be an idiot not to cash in on that PR,” he pointed out. 

“Need I remind you that you caused the tower’s collapse?” Grace said tersely. “And you did not end Vought. There will be repercussions to this, believe me.”

Ben’s face tightened, but you grasped his hand. 

“But he fulfilled the mission,” you said. “He took out Black Noir…and Stan Edgar in the process.”

“The idea was to arrest him, but I get your point,” Grace said. Her hand raised to cover her mouth as she thought about your proposal.

Eventually, she spoke. “If you can play by our rules, then we’ll contract with you. But until you get that atomic bomb under control, you can’t remain the city. Upstate is the best I can do.”

Ben chafed at being told what he couldn’t do. What the fuck was he going to do in Upstate New York? Slowly rot to death in dusty-ass suburbia?

You shot him a knowing look, raising a brow. 

“It’s a fair offer, Ben,” you pointed out. His lips pursed in annoyance. But he glanced at your hand in his.

Then he looked up at Grace. “Fine. But first, unfreeze my fucking bank accounts.”

Ben later led you out of the hospital. There was a car waiting outside, and he got in to drive, despite you offering. He must’ve been going on very little sleep, if any over the past two days. 

And of course, he’d refused to be seen at all medically, saying he was fine. You were still concerned about that destabilizing gun Black Noir had shot him with. 

“I’m fine,” Ben had claimed. “Just need some sleep, that’s all.”

You watched his profile for a moment, and a smile started to raise your lips…until you finally remembered something that felt like a heavy stone in your stomach.

“Um…” you said, earning Ben’s attention. You looked up at him. “My father’s dead…”

Good fucking riddance, was Ben’s initial reaction. Followed by a frown, as he now realized he would never get the pleasure of choking the shit out of Jon himself. 

Ben had been fucking livid to learn from Frank that you’d been left alone in the Tower with your father while it was coming down (and Ben was petty enough to dock that little slip up from Frank’s pay). Had that asshole lived, Ben wouldn’t have put it past him to try and take you with him after escaping the building. The mere thought grated on him. 

“Black Noir killed him,” you said, heaving a shaky breath. 

That cut through Ben’s thoughts. He glanced over, watching you fight some conflicting emotions. 

“…Punched a hole straight through his chest,” you added.

Ben hummed in acknowledgement. You turned to him with a raised brow and glassy eyes. When he realized you were expecting a bit more from him, his lips pursed.

“Well, he got a quick death,” he said. “Better than he fucking deserved, far as I’m concerned.”

You sighed and leaned your head back on the head rest. Your eyes closed. 

“Goddamn it, Ben.”

Ben eyed you with a deepening frown. “What the fuck do you expect me to say?”

“How about some decency?” you asked, as a tear fell down your cheek. “He tried to apologize. But I wouldn’t let him.”

He paused at that. While he thought you were being unreasonable, it begrudgingly dawned on him what you wanted, and maybe, what you needed. He sighed through his nose. Even now, you were a handful.

Ben reached over, taking your hand from your lap. He pressed the back of it to his lips, earning your mild surprise.  

“That’s not your fault,” he said. And he briefly took his eyes off the road to look into yours. “None of it was. You understand me?”

Your face softened. Though you tried to blink away your tears, a few of them still fell. You wiped at them with your free hand, while the other squeezed around his fingers, resting against your thigh. Despite how you were fracturing inside, warmth still kept you afloat. 

So you looked up at Ben, and you nodded. He seemed satisfied by your answer. He turned back fully to the road, but you kept a tight hold of his hand. He allowed it.   

“We’ll have to go to the safe house to get our stuff,” you said eventually, with a small sniffle.

“No need,” Ben said. “That’s taken care of.”

That confused you. Was he taking you to your apartment then? 

But instead, he drove you out of the city, and an hour upstate into Scarsdale. You’d never been there, but you knew it by reputation—as one of the most affluent towns in the state.

You were even more confused when he drove down a street flanked by tall hedges within a private community. He pulled into a circular driveway in front of an immense white house, with a red brick roof, colonial architecture, a manicured lawn, complete with matching fountains lining the front door.

Ben parked the car and encouraged you to get out with him. You followed him up to the front porch, expecting an old billionaire to pop out of the tall bushes at any moment to chase you away. 

“What’re we doing here?” you asked. His hands fell to the belt of his supe suit as he surveyed the stood, the door, and the walls for anything amiss. 

“I’m looking into buying it,” he revealed, as if he’d just told you, It’s pretty fucking sunny today, huh? 

“Our stuff is ready to be shipped out when the deal closes with the owner,” he added.

Your eyes flew wide. “What? When did you have time to scope out houses?” 

You’d only been discharged about an hour after the conversation with Grace. 

“I had Frank look into some shit. He found this one,” Ben shrugged. “Could use some work, but not bad.”

Our stuff, you repeated in your mind. This house…was he trying to recreate what the two of you had in Medellin?

And more importantly, was this his way of asking you to move in with him? 

Well, there’s not too much asking going on, you thought in annoyance. And yet, you blushed; the sentiment in itself was enough to warm you. 

You brought Ben back down to Earth by grasping his hands, earning his attention from the old grout in the tile.

“Ben, this place is amazing,” you said. “But I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable living like this.”

He frowned down at you. “What the hell do you mean? You could have anything you want here. It’s safe. Got plenty of room—”

“A bit too much room,” you said, holding up your thumb and forefinger a couple inches apart. 

He looked adorably grumpy. You smiled and squeezed his hand. 

“Did you really feel cozy and at home in that mansion with fifty rooms and nobody in ‘em?” you asked.

He didn’t answer you, and he didn’t seem happy either. You didn’t want him to take this as a rejection. 

“If we’re going to do this,” you said, “then can we start a little smaller? Somewhere that feels like home to both of us?”

Ben stared back at you in annoyance. “You need to broaden your palate.”

You just managed to stop yourself from laughing.

“You haven’t had a normal home in a long time, Ben,” you replied. Maybe ever, you realized. “How about you trust me?” 

He gave you a dubious frown.

“What about this,” you tried. “Let’s pick it out together! If in a few months you still hate the new place, we’ll try it your way.” 

“You’re assuming we’re gonna make it that long.” Ben was starting to wonder if this was going to work after all. The two of you were from very different worlds. 

You offered a cheeky smile. “I’m optimistic.”

He huffed. “Sure.” 

You reached up on your toes, and gripped the front of his suit when you leaned up to kiss him. His hands rose naturally to hold you, resting on your jean-clad hips. He followed your languid kiss, his furrowed brows relaxing when you touched his cheek.

When you broke from his lips, his eyes opened to find yours. 

“I am, Ben,” you said more seriously. “I’m not playing games. This is real to me, and I want to be with you.” 

But then you hesitated. You lowered back down to your feet. 

“But if it’s not to you…if you’re just passing time with me, until you get bored,” you said, “tell me now. Please.” 

It was Ben’s turn to hesitate. It was the please that got to him, along with your downturned gaze. He captured your chin between his fingers and raised your face up to him. 

“I’m not fucking around,” he said. “I want you to live with me.” 

Your smile was soft and bright when you took his hand. Ben wouldn’t admit it, but something in his chest stuttered to life then.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

AN: *squeals* It's happening! We've really gotten here, folks. How'd you like how it all wrapped up with Grace, M.M., and even Butcher?

But we're not quite there with these two yet...

Next Time:

“Why’re you nagging me like a goddamn wife?” he snapped.

“Wife?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You don’t even call me your girlfriend.”

But God forbid another man even smile in your direction. Ben was possessive, protective, and claimed with all but words that you were his. And yet, he wouldn’t say it.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was afraid of commitment, but you’d been living together for six damn months.

Keep reading: THE EPILOGUE

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[lookinglass-fic]

A bit personal, and also cw/tw for mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation//

I lost my best friend to suicide two years ago. And I can't lie, the themes in OFMD season 2 are hitting hard. Ed is definitely my comfort character, and I love him so much and just want good and nice things for him and want him to be happy.

The sucide themes are... heart-rendingly accurate and make total sense, in ways that I feel certain that someone(s) in the writing team and/or crew have had experiences with this particular thing.

It's bringing up a lot of grief and some unearthed trauma for me, I think. But I think it's also a great opportunity to talk about what you can recognize in friends and loved ones who might be having ideation.

In re-watching episode 2, I noticed some things. The day after the cake topper incident, the morning where Ed tells Frenchie, "I had a very rough night last night, but I think I got all of the poison out of my system," he's cleaning up the cabin. He's cleaned himself up. He's chipper. It's the same morning he gives the gun to Izzy, the same night that he goads the crew into killing him.

And please note, I am not an expert. I'm not a psychologist or therapist, I'm not qualified to dole out real advice. I've just become... intimately familiar with warning signs of suicide the past few years after joining some support groups and being part of discussions and hearing dozens upon dozens of stories from the people left behind. And this is just advice from one human being to others who might need to hear it.

People who have long-term ideation can tend to have a sudden upswing in the day or two immediately preceding death, and it's because they've made the decision to go ahead with it.

My friend had seemed to be getting better. He was chipper, sending photos of things he liked and generally texting/calling people in a cheerful mood. The day it happened, he was on a hike sending me pictures of rabbits and magpies.

If your loved one is going through an incredibly rough patch and has a sudden upswing in mood, if they start cleaning up by giving things away or making big changes, it's time to check in. It's time to find a way to break through to them and see if there's anything at all you can do to stop them from going through with it.

This show brings so much attention to so many things, and they get so many things right. I'm in a kind of a weird mental place right now just because this is bringing up a lot of feelings for me, but it's only because it's so accurate and hits so close to home. If this can help even one person, then it's worth me being weird on the internet about it.

And for anybody out there struggling... just find one thing. Just one thing to keep you here until tomorrow. Just one thing to stay for. Warmth. Food. Intercourse. Anything. Just please stay.

[quadrantadvisor]

Danny Phantom Crossover Angst Week: Prompt - GIW Experimentation

Fandom: Marvel "Team Red"

Words: 2,550

Read on AO3

The new government offices in the Kitchen were suspicious, simply by virtue how un-suspicious they were. Matt, Foggy, and Karen had poured over their documentation, and found it to be squeaky clean and overly banal. Not that it mattered, really, when Matt was going to stake out their building regardless. Newcomers on his turf had to prove themselves.

Matt didn’t like what he heard.

It may, in fact, be time to call in the cavalry. No matter how deeply, desperately, Matt did not want to do that.

-

“You hear that, Spidey?” Wade Wilson crooned. “Ol’ Hornhead needs our help.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Spiderman said mirthfully, shaking his head.

They’d been like this for several minutes. Matt was cataloging and systematically shuffling through his life choices, trying to decide which one in particular led him to this moment (so that if he ever had the opportunity to time travel, he could prevent this.)

“Listen,” he told them. “I called you because I have reason to believe this situation is urgent, but my source has been unable to retrieve certain necessary information.”

“Like what?” Spiderman asked before Deadpool could get a word in edgewise.

“Like the dimensions of the building. I know that they don’t match the official schematics, but not what they actually are.”

“That seems very unlikely,” Wade cut in. “I thought you had like, a psychic connection to every part of your kitchen. How does anyone build something without you knowing about it?”

“I’m not psychic,” Matt deadpanned. Who needed a sixth sense? Matt did just fine with the ones he had. “But the answer is, very carefully.”

“Sure, sure,” Spiderman said. “And what’s the actual emergency?”

“They’re holding someone against their will,” Matt told him, glad to cut to the chase. “I have reason to believe that this person is in a great deal of danger, and has been tortured and experimented on for a significant amount of time.”

“The US government is doing this?” Spiderman asked, surprised. “After how many human rights scandals we’ve had in the past few years? Are they stupid?”

“Yes,” Matt answered immediately. “But there seems to be some question of this person’s level of sentience. My source said the attitude of the agents was, ‘Don’t worry if it’s screaming, that means it’s working.’”

The cold slide of a katana being drawn made Matt realize that he should’ve been paying more attention to Deadpool, who had become strangely quiet.

“DP, you good?” Spiderman asked, because he was naive enough to ask questions he already knew the answer to. Matt had gotten caught up in his own urgency, and completely forgotten to take Wade’s history into account. He’d stumbled into a thorny web of traumas, and had no one to blame but himself.

“Doing great, Spidey!” Deadpool said with a cold cheer, and Matt fought the urge to shiver. “Feeling very ready to teach some remedial lessons on human/alien/magical and/or mechanical construct rights! C’mon, team, time’s a-wasting!” And he was off.

Spiderman turned towards Matt and paused, presumably trying to share some sort of look (which wouldn’t have worked regardless, did he forget he wore a full face mask?) Then he tensed to leap, and Matt followed suit, the two of them determined to clean up whatever mess Deadpool made.

-

Deadpool had been made emphatically aware that, if he killed on their watch, neither Spiderman nor Daredevil would ever work with him again. Matt guessed that that promise was the only thing keeping him from further brutality. The stench of blood grew quickly cloying.

“HEY!” Spiderman shouted on his left.

“What?” Deadpool asked in front of him. “It’s not like he needs both hands.”

Spiderman’s webbing thwip-ed out, staunching the wound. “You guys picked a really bad day to wear white,” he said to the swearing agent.

“Lay off the suits, freak!” another one said, aiming his strange weapon at Matt’s friend. Matt quickly disarmed him.

Their suits were entirely white? No wonder they smelled so strongly of starch and bleach. Another point towards government stupidity.

The three of them made their way deeper into the facility, and white suits were replaced with white lab coats, though the scientists still carried the little noisy pistols, powered by something Matt couldn’t identify by smell. Whatever kind of energy it was, it left strong taste on his tongue, like citrus and metal and sparking electricity.

Then, finally, they found what they were looking for.

As soon as he opened the door, Deadpool’s tone changed, from frightening mania to a solemn sort of despair. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

Matt was in an unfamiliar building, having to feel his way through as he went. He’d had to navigate combat situations while ignoring a great many assaults upon his senses, from loud alarms to overwhelming scents to a completely unfamiliar power source that made his skin tingle. But the inside of that room was worse. Matt resisted the urge to plug his nose against the air saturated with bleach, old blood, and rotten… whatever it was.

Spiderman, seeing into the room, gasped, then composed himself, following Deadpool inside.

“Hey, kid,” Deadpool said softly. This was why, despite all the instincts telling him otherwise, Matt trusted Wade. Wade cared about vulnerable people, in a way that was both obvious and experienced. He wore his care on his sleeve. Matt couldn’t help but admire it, and felt a kinship he couldn’t quite deny. “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?”

A mumble responded, drawing Matt’s attention, and he drew short. There was certainly a structure in the center of the room, and upon that structure (gurney?) was…

It was unlike anything Matt had ever experienced. It was in the shape of a person, yes, but it was almost like the absence of a person. Cold emanated from the space, but air seemed to pass right through it. Sound was drawn in by the shape, muffled. Was there really someone there? Matt’s skin prickled. (Matt still wasn’t psychic. But something about it didn’t feel right. Like it wanted him to be afraid.)

The figure wheezed.

“He can’t be older than sixteen,” Spiderman whispered.

“Hey, kid, hey, they really did a number on you, huh? Can you hear me?”

This time, there was no response, just the same shallow, painful breaths.

“Alright, up we go then,” Deadpool said, reaching for the figure. Matt almost called out, almost told him not to touch it. He half expected Deadpool’s hands to fall right through. But contact was made, and Deadpool hefted what apparently looked like a young teenaged boy into his arms.

“Alright besties, you clear the way and I’ll cart the kid out of here,” Deadpool said, tone comically sweet.

Again, Matt wanted to protest. Now that they had the captive, the rescue seemed less urgent. He wanted to know just what was going on here, what the subject was, why he was being studied. He had a bad feeling, was all.

Matt held his tounge. Deadpool and Spiderman’s hearts were both racing, and they radiated fear and concern. Something was leaking from the boy, something that smelled like the power source of the agent’s weapons but somehow more organic. Matt’s bad feeling didn’t matter, not until something bad actually happened. He could come back later and collect the information he needed, especially since he’d be able to use actual stealth to do it (thank you, Wade, for barging in.)

They went out the same way they’d come in, mowing through agents much less brutally now that Deadpool’s hands were fully. The number of people working in this building was frankly ridiculous.

The agents were not shy about targeting Deadpool, seeming unconcerned about any harm that may come to their captive. As they passed, they shouted at them, telling them to “Drop the subject!” or “Give up the Ghost Kid!”

(Ghost Kid? No, he couldn’t be a ghost. That was ridiculous. That wasn’t what ghosts were like, it couldn’t be.)

(Oh sweet Mother Mary.)

Spiderman started webbing the agents’ mouths shut.

When they had nearly reached their goal of escape, the figure began to murmur and shift.

“Hey kiddo, you with us?” Deadpool asked.

“Who’re you?” was the slurred response.

“Just your friendly neighborhood mercenary!” Deadpool chirped. “And I’m getting you out of here.”

“We’re leaving?” croaked the boy.

“Yep! Me’n my buddies,” Deadpool moved his head, gesturing to Matt and Spiderman, “we’ll keep you safe. These creeps aren’t gonna touch you, never again.”

The being moved suddenly, lurching up in Wade’s grasp, maybe meeting his eyes or grabbing his arm?

“The research,” he gasped, “the containment devices, the weapons, you have to destroy them! What they’re trying to do, it’s-” he broke off, coughing weakly.

“Kid?” Deadpool asked.

“An entire dimension,” the boy answered weakly. “They want to destroy an entire dimension.”

The alarms were still blaring. The number of agents coming in from different parts of the building hadn’t slowed. As bad as that sounded, and as much as Matt wanted to get their research away from them and into more capable and ethical hands (Karen), they didn’t have time if they didn’t want to take huge risks.

“We’re leaving,” Matt said, the full gravel of the devil in his voice. “We’ll stop them, but not tonight.”

“Yeah buddy, don’t worry, we’re gonna take care of it,” Spiderman assured him.

“You don’t understand,” the boy said, distraught.

Their group had reached the first floor. Matt was bruised and exhausted, but none of the combatants were experts in hand to hand. They were going to make it out of this, mission complete, none the worse for wear. It could’ve gone a lot worse.

“I’ll do it myself.”

The figure in Deadpool’s arms suddenly, inexplicably, dropped. No struggle, no loosening of Deadpool’s grip. It was like he fell straight through them.

Despite his weakness, the boy slipped away when Wade reached out for him. Then he, if Matt’s senses weren’t playing tricks on him, started floating.

“Back up,” he said, “and cover your ears.”

Matt didn’t like to muffle his senses, but he wasn’t an idiot. When a being like that said to protect your hearing, you did it. He pressed his palms tight to his ears and moved away.

It wasn’t enough.

What came from the thing could barely be called a sound. The sensation was almost physical, air distorting worse than the concussive blast of an explosion. He directed it down, down, through every level of the building, and the floor pushed back in waves as it fought against its own destruction. Inevitably, it failed, and Matt hugged desperately against the wall, hoping he wouldn’t lose the very ground beneath his feet. He sincerely doubted any electronics could survive the onslaught, meaning that whatever records and weapons were being stored here would be just as gone as the boy had wanted.

Matt didn’t know how long the attack lasted, maybe just seconds, regardless of how long it felt in his pain. The ringing in his head didn’t stop with the onslaught, and he removed his hands cautiously, hoping he wasn’t bleeding. Matt rose from his crouch, and tried to figure out what to do next. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t hear anything over the ringing, could only stand there and wonder if a single step would send him plunging to his death, if the ringing was just too loud or if his hearing was gone for good (he could do it, he could, but please, God, he didn’t want to, didn’t want to adjust, to lose such a huge part of the world around him, please, not again.)

He startled when someone touched his arm. “-hear me?” they asked, and Matt realized it was Spiderman, because he could feel his heartbeat through his fingers, knew the resonance of his voice in his chest, and Matt resisted the urge to cling to him for some sense of normalcy, because yes, even though he couldn’t hear him, he knew the vibrations of his body and could still interpret them.

“There you are,” Spiderman said. “Just mouth stuff at me, my ears are shot after that. You good?”

Matt grunted, and was disturbed by the lack of feedback within his own skull. “Can’t hear a thing,” he reluctantly admitted, doing his best to turn towards where he figured Spiderman’s eyeline was. He paused, uncomfortable, but added, “A bit dizzy, too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Spiderman immediately replied, getting a better grip on Matt’s arm and starting to pull him somewhere. It wasn’t easy guidance, like Foggy would offer, it was a firm lead, something Spiderman would use to pull civilians away from danger. Matt suffered the indignity, seeing as he could barely stand straight and had almost no idea where the holes in the floor were. “Man, that kid scared the shit out of me. I’m so glad I managed to catch him.”

Catch him? That made sense, maybe, if whatever power that had kept him suspended gave out after that display. Spiderman didn’t have the boy now, though, so he must’ve handed him off to Deadpool, or maybe he’d used his webs.

The air changed, and Matt figured they’d made it outside. He expected Spiderman to let go of him, and felt both relieved and embarrassed when he didn’t.

Air moved, the ground vibrated, and Matt could tell someone approached them. Spiderman didn’t react negatively, so likely it was Deadpool. The mercenary stood in front of them, speaking, but the breeze whisked the vibrations away and Matt couldn’t make out his voice.

“Don’t ask me,” Spiderman replied. “Hey, you paying attention Double D? What the heck do we do with an incredibly powerful, partially human, transforming kid who may also be bleeding out?”

Transforming? Bleeding out? Matt had thought the blood smell was just Deadpool. Without thinking, he reached forward, seeking more information. After a moment, he made contact, and felt relieved at the familiar heart and breaths. Thus oriented, he moved his hand down to the figure in Wade’s arms.

It was a normal human boy. No uncanny not-there-ness, no hum of energy and power, just a kid with blood pumping through his veins and dripping from a poorly treated would along his torso.

“I don’t know,” Matt said. “Hospital?”

“I am not just dropping him off at a hospital,” Deadpool said. “If that’s your plan, I’ll just take him back to my place and-”

“Hey, Daredevil, didn’t you say you couldn’t hear?” Spiderman interrupted.

Matt nodded absentmindedly. “Not a thing.”

“We’re wearing full face masks,” Spiderman pointed out. “How do you know what we’re saying?”

Deadpool gasped dramatically. “He IS psychic!”

Matt sighed heavily, wishing he could drop his head into his hands, but that would necessitate letting go of his friends. “Claire is going to hate me for this,” he lamented.

“Who’s Claire?” Spiderman asked.

“He didn’t deny it!” Deadpool crowed.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Matt said, ignoring the mercenary. “You’re going to have to guide me though, I’m practically useless right now.”

“Sure thing,” Spiderman said, not needing more than that, and Matt knew that there was a reason he liked him.

Their group, much worse for wear and plus a new member, headed off again into the night.

[ohmyglobwhatthefrickamievendoing]

The general consensus from the tags in this post seems to be:

"he joins, obviously"

and look I'm 110% on team gentlebeard (can they please just fucking talk!??? actually sit down and use proper words and talk about their past lives that led to each of their specific traumas and also how that affects what they want in their current lives & future outside of each other so they could figure out how to compromise & support each other like adults pls i'm begging) & despite finding izzy funny I didn't really care for him in s1 but ummmm given ep 6&7....namely:

• izzy & ed actually talking and possibly moving towards a less toxic relationship

• izzy finding new & healthy ways to express himself as a queer man in a safe space that hasn't really existed until now (instead of being a repressed angry little fucker)

• showing that izzy's literally an artsy outsider which is apparently ed's type????????????????

• izzy singing love songs

• the way stede looks at izzy when he sings????

• izzy singing love songs WHILE stede&ed fuck

• izzy walking in on post sex breakfast in bed & being oddly smiley (& snarky) about it

• izzy giving ed & stede genuinely good advice

• izzy admitting to stede that he was (is?) in love with ed (yeah we all knew but)

• izzy saying stede's good for ed because they balance each other out

• (i'm not even sure if i hallucinated this part or not but when they cut from zheng & olu holding hands was izzy's hand on stede's thigh? knee?)

• izzy being protective of/worried about stede when he's drunk off his ass, heartbroken & picking stupid fights

• and obviously stede&ed being Stede&Ed (perfect for each other in spite of everything)

I mean I've always been interested in a stede & izzy slightly homoerotic friendship because i personally can't think of anything funnier for izzy's character arc (the equivalent of hitting rock bottom and then continuing to dig, for him)

But

yeah no okay fine y'all got me damn

do i think it'll be canon? no...

do i see the foundation & potential now? sigh....yeah

so ig the conclusion of that first post is:

HE CAN JOIN!

i got dragged in here (mildly, softly) kicking & screaming

[cheeseyberg]

Part 1 Part 2

Steve is annoyed. He's trying his hardest not to be but there it is, burning low in his throat as he bites back another bitchy comment that he would really love to let fly. He keeps reminding himself that they are kids, teenagers who have been stunted by trauma and may be a little immature in areas that don't involve fighting interdimensional beings. They deserve time spent ragging on each other and if they want to include him in the teasing then that really is proof that they accept him.

But he's not an idiot, just because he's a little bit slower than the nerds who he has adopted doesn't mean he's stupid. He takes the average amount of time to make connections, it's not his fault his friend's brains all run at the speed of a supercomputer.

"Henderson, I'm not going to tell you again, watch your tone dude!" Steve allows the half bitchy comment to land in a lull of conversation so all the brats hear it, "Besides, I haven't agreed to anything yet so I don't know why you're all arguing who gets stuck with me."

The whole thing had started with the opening of a new café in town. It was across from the arcade so naturally the kids clocked it immediately and had been anxiously awaiting the grand opening. Plans were made, funds were acquired, rides were begged for and the end result was that Steve, Eddie and Nancy shared babysitting duty on the opening day. It had been a pleasant day really, Steve was happy to have adults to talk to while the kids terrorized the new shop owners. This may have been where it started to go off the rails, he realizes now. Once the lovely couple had realized they had been invaded by baby geniuses they became enamored and in a clear bid to appease and possibly distract, the next time they had visited there were signs up announcing a weekly trivia night.

The problem was the team size limits. No more than six people to a team, and Erica had made it very clear that she would not be the odd man out because of her age. In fairness, the party hadn't even suggested it, they knew Erica was a force to be reckoned with and so the splitting into two teams had commenced and now she was a hot commodity that both teams wanted. Steve was having the opposite problem.

"Nobody is questioning your numerous good qualities Steve, I'm just saying that picking you first on my team isn't like a brilliant strategic move," Dustin stumbled over the words trying to make it clear that he wasn't wanted without putting his free rides in jeopardy.

"Enough! Nobody agreed that you got to be a team captain anyway and you're being a butthead. Here's how this is going to work, adults are the team captains," Eddie's edict was met with a flurry of protests from The Party yet he continued. "Complain all you want but the more whining I hear about it, the worse it is for your characters during the next campaign!"

That shut them up, Steve wondered what he had ever done before Eddie joined their family and had real leverage to hold over them to get them to behave. Gave in, was the answer but he preferred to ignore that part.

"I'm a captain and Steve's a captain-"

"Wooooow, why aren't Robin and Nancy the captains, you misogynist?!" Max was spending too much time with Robin in Steve's opinion.

"You're spending too much time with Robin, first of all. Secondly, Robin and Nancy aren't here so they forfeit the rights to team captain. As I was saying, Steve and I are captains and we will divide you as evenly as we can. Even with Robin and Nancy we still have an odd number so we'll have to split 6 and 5 to a team. Tomorrow at movie night we'll roll to see who gets more players and then we'll divide our teams with everyone present. What say you Stevie?" Eddie ended his proclamation by turning to look at Steve, who realized he was blushing a bit at having Eddie defend him to the assembly of assholes.

"Sounds good Eds," of course he was going to agree when it was Eddie asking. He turned back to the table in time to catch a raised eyebrow between Max and El but chose to ignore it. "And, as captain and procurer of the movies, I'm vetoing any horror movies so don't even try it!"

"Freddy's Revenge is finally out though! I thought we agreed to watch it!?" Eddie's protest was the loudest.

"A creepy burned dude who kills you in your mind dreams? No thanks, we absolutely did not agree to that and I'm vetoing it forever. Watch that shit with Robin, besides, it doesn't even have Johnny Depp in it so what's the point?" Steve catches another look between the girls but this time Erica joins in, he's not sure what caused it that time. Maybe the reference to Vecna was too much. "Come on guys, seriously, pick something happy for once."

"'Mind dreams' says the team captain," he catches Mike muttering under his breath and stares him down until he gets a half shrug which is as good as he can expect as an apology from the teen.

Part 2 Part 3

[uselessheretic]

the "stede played no role in ed's mental breakdown and ed would've ended up like that anyways" thought process is killing me because i really don't think it's true. yes, ed is a volatile shaken soda can of trauma waiting to burst, but he exists within the context of others as well. he was clearly already mentally ill and had serious issues, but the severity of his breakdown was intensified by outside forces with his relationship to stede.

ignoring the fact that stede left, by the time we get to their kiss ed is in an extremely raw and vulnerable place. he has unlocked multiple traumatic memories over the last few weeks, lost several of his closest friends, uprooted his entire life in a career change, for the first time ever truly and genuinely fell in love with someone, and laid himself bare, offering his love to someone he thought would take it.

if this was in modern times and ed lived in a utopian world of competent mental health services, he would likely have a care team right now giving extra support than usual because he is set to fucking blow at the smallest upset.

all of this may look like progress, but this is too much too fast placing him in a dangerous and precarious moment where any damage done has the potential to push him into probably the worst mental breakdown of his life.

and it's not stede's fault that ed has trauma, and it's not like stede could've known how bad it would get. stede isn't equipped to handle this either. he is also dealing with his own issues and him making a mistake was inevitable. he stumbled in a way that is completely understandable and it had consequences much larger than he could have ever anticipated.

stede still owes some level of responsibility to ed and his breakdown though. stede had offered himself as a place of solace, accepted ed's trauma, and made big life decisions with him surrounding this. even if ed didn't become violent as a result, stede's chronic need to run away from intimacy would've done immense damage to anyone in that situation. yes he had his reasons! it's not malicious, and neither was abandoning his wife and kids, but this is a pattern of behavior with stede reflective of his biggest character flaw. it's understandable, it's sympathetic, he had his reasons, but in the end he still hurt someone he cared immensely for who he knew was in a vulnerable position. even if he didn't know ed would turn into the kraken, he absolutely should have understood how badly this would sting.

the situation is complicated. there aren't any good guys here, there's just a lot of pain and disappointment. it needs to be resolved between them! ed has to take responsibility for his own actions—he hurt the crew, not stede!—but if stede wants to be in a relationship with ed, if he wants to love him and to be with him, he needs to take ownership of his part in this too.

[phoenixlionme]

I see a certain section of the fandom trying to say what Caitlyn did was irredeemable. And let's be clear: What Caitlyn throughout S2E3 was WRONG; she may in mourning but that doesn't excuse or justify her actions. I can understand them and it's clear the writers are also showing that what Cait is doing is wrong. But I also feel that the same section of the fandom who say Caitlyn is the "bad guy" have amnesia over Jinx's actions: She willfully her drug kingpin father, killed a number of people (both Piltovan and Zaun), pointed a gun at Vi, kidnapped Vi/Silco/Caitlyn (the last one she kidnapped in her home after she took a shower, which is a special kind of privacy violation), launched a rocket that only killed half the council but also caused other innocent deaths. And yet some parts of the fandom will gloss all over that because of her trauma and abuse at Piltovan's hands. Look, like Caitlyn, I both understand but also don't excuse Jinx's actions. They are both traumatized young women but have each done cruel and inexcusable actions that they will most likely pay for in Acts 2 and 3.

And while I make this post, I am in NO way downplaying the unfair treatment Piltover has with Zaun. It's clearly one-sided. I am just making the point that Jinx is no saint either. Neither is Jayce, Mel, Vander, Vi, (especially) Silco, (especially) sevika, (especially) The Council. No one is perfect on this show. Everyone is capable of doing and/or saying monstrous actions and trying to justify it. All I am saying is that we don't forget that Arcane is about nuance and the fact that no one in Arcane is completely good or bad; that everyone is capable of great good and evil.

Also, those who are saying Jinx's attack on the Council was different because she was targeting the symbol of Zaun's oppression vs Caitlyn's strike team in Zaun trying to hunt down Jinx. Yes, they are different but both are still inexcusable because they only serve to heighten the already tensed and hate filled nature of the two cities. Yes, I can understand both their actions come from a place of pain but they are using pain to hurt or risk hurting innocents. And they both will have to answer for it in the upcoming Acts, we just don't know how or when.

At the end of the day, Arcane has complex and nuanced characters, whose actions you can understand and even sympathize with but shouldn't gloss over their morally questionable or just plain f-ed up decisions. Plus, we are only at 3 episodes (as of this writing), and the writers waited three years (maybe longer if we count the conception of the show) before releasing this season. Let's have a little faith in them.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: BEMIS. Part 2

READING THINGS SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO! 

Part one is here. Thanks Tumblr.  (please go read it)

Two issues left of this trash heap volume. Any time you think it can’t get worse you look at the next panel. 

NEXT ISSUE. We’re almost through this collection. This bread is not what I ordered. Send it back. 

ISSUE #192. 

(Spoilers: There are no sharks in this episode. For those of you waiting for the dolphins, that’s in vol 2)

Alright. In this issue. We open with Marc, Diatrice, and Frenchie sitting at the table having coffee. ANd Frenchie looks very dead and is in scrubs. 

I’MMA PAUSE FOR A SECOND. 

I will cover the Lemire run later. It’s inevitable and something I’m deeply looking forward to. 

The thing about the Lemire run is that it takes place at a time when ALL of Moon Knight’s original friends had left him. Gena, the kids, Crawley, Frenchie, Marlene… They had all been driven away. They were all in pain and either hated him, were disenchanted by him, or just pushed away. 

The Lemire run takes place with the Moon Knight system, Marc in particular, having a severe mental health crisis. 

DID is caused by extreme repeated trauma at a young age. It leads to dissociative episodes, and it is not uncommon for other issues to crop up (thanks trauma!). A lot of systems, if they have the health care, end up in and out of hospitals when they reach crisis points. 

In this run, a LOT of things happen that seem spectacular and fantastical and a lot of things that are grounded in reality. It’s hard to say if the whole thing happened or was really all just in Marc’s head. There is evidence for the latter. I’ll discuss that at a different time. But in this run, he witnesses his friends all leave him again. It’s a way for his mind to make sense of it and to let them go. To let go of the past and the pain associated with his friends departing him. In this world, Frenchie sacrificed himself to save them and died. 

So… Bemis is assuming that the audience took in the Lemire run at face value. He feels he has to explain away the events. He isn’t trusting the reader at all. In fact, he’s even going to try to explain it to the reader.  This is bad writing. This is just… Where is the editorial team? Why are they not explaining things to him? Did they even read his script? Or were they so desperate to feed off of the success of Lemire and get Moon Knight up and going again that they just shoved whatever they could at the fans and waited for the money? 

UNPAUSE. 

So this is why Frenchie is a zombie. He’s trying to explain away Frenchie’s ‘death’.

"Undead?" Frenchie asks Marc. 

"Well, no. Not really undead. Just dead. It's all I can visualize. Like when you seen an old person and think of them naked and then can't stop picturing it." 

"That's disturbing. But I'd be equally haunted if I had seen YOU get murdered in a waking nightmare of insane asylums and Egyptian Gods. You saw it. You felt it. It was real enough." 

(Also he has his legs.) 

There's one of those comic editorial notes in the corner: To find out what Marc's talking about, read the mind-bending Lemire/Smallwood Run! - ED

#^%#$$@ YOU ED. DO YOUR JOB AND ACTUALLY KEEP THE CONTINUITY AND EDIT THIS PILE OF-

deep breaths. deep breaths... We're going to get through this. 

So Zombie Frenchie talks to Marc about what Marc saw in the asylum. 

"Losing you was some kind of fantasy. You can chalk it up to me accepting my dissociative identity disorder, or me facing my demons...But I think I needed to see you die in order to make sense of your worth to me. That's not fair to you. You're my best friend." 

So close. He's SO close to getting the run. And I get the feeling it's spouting off what he was cliff noted about the run without either reading it himself or perhaps he did read it, didn't understand it, and someone had to explain it to him. 

It wasn't about him accepting his dissociative identity disorder or facing down his demons. It was so much more than that. 

At this point Frenchie pulls off his zombie look (literally) and is back to being a normal looking man. 

And we get what Bemis REALLY thinks is going on. 

"You think too much, Spector. You can picture whatever you want in that malfunctioning cranium of yours if it helps you make sense of the hand you've been dealt." 

"...Okay." 

"Now, Marc, are you actually hearing me, or are you still picturing some grotesque fantasy?" 

He’s just using things as an excuse to paint Marc with whatever mental illness he fancies at the time. Hallucinations are apparently now in the mix. What does Bemis actually think is mentally wrong with Marc? Did he do ANY research at all? Is he just pointing at the DSM randomly and picking out things that make the comic edgy or ‘funny’??

As Marc prepares to go, a brick smashes through their window. 

He climbs out the window, dramatic style, and finds Bushman and Truth and some other guys with guns waiting on the street below. 

Bushman has the landlord (a little old lady) at knife point. 

They tell Marc to meet them in the lobby or the old lady gets it. 

Oh look. Another jab at underlined villainous homosexuality. 

Just before Moon Knight can start trashing them all, and Bushman knows he would, Raoul tells him that Marlene is on the boat. 

Oh good. Khonshu's narration is back. I'd missed it. 

Honestly, any time Khonshu narrates it's just a lot of random metaphors, over explanation, or depictions on what's going on that aren't needed. 

He describes Marc being tied to a boat surrounded by his enemies with his fate unknown. ....as the comic shows him tied to a boat surrounded by his enemies with his fate unknown. 

Let the reader read the damn comic! 

Bushman goes against orders of the Sun King and decides to go toy with Marc. 

Never a good idea and everyone there knows it. 

He holds a knife to Marc's face. Well... Honestly, it’s in his style to do just this… Props for that I suppose. 

And Moon Knight makes his way around the top deck of the boat and takes out all the bad guys,circling back around to Bushman. 

"You don't scare me, Spector!" 

"I didn't want to have to do this to you again." 

And Marc cuts off two of Bushman's fingers then tosses them overboard. 

"You can replace those, but they'll never be yours again. And next time, I won't be satisfied with a piece of you. I'm not one of those super heroes who won't straight-up kill you, Bushman." 

It's fitting for what Moon Knight did from the 90s through early 2000s. As much as I disagree with it, it does fit for those times. 

He goes below deck and finds a bunch of sad looking people sitting around like refugees. 

Marc asks what's going on and he's told that they signed up for this. 

He talks to one of the kids who tells him they are going to an island to form a new city for only them. 

Back on deck, he finds Truth. 

"Unlike Raoul, I think I may have learned my lesson in trying to defeat you personally. Besides, I was tasked with your delivery to the Sun King. I just want to help you see what I see, Spector." 

For once, Truth is pretty reasonable. 

True uses his powers on Marc and it's just... 

"I have a vision every waking day. Lovers and dreamers piled waist-deep in the streets. I wade through piles of their slack, twisted bodies. Utterly powerless. Nauseated. It's my fear of this moment that motivates me, not the desire to save lives. The Fear that I've built my sanity on a lie. My hope for a better world is my most tragic form of dissociation." 

You know... I'm not even sure Bemis knows what dissociation really is at this point. 

Truth tells him that he's ready to face the Sun King now. 

They arrive on the island where the 'refugees' get off and go to make camp in the village that they found. 

OKAY. Okay. okay... here we go. 

So... I'm going to point out something here that someone probably should have mentioned to Bemis while editing this crap. 

The bad guy henchmen are all disabled people. People missing arms, legs, hands, eyes, on crutches, or fake legs and things. 

They follow around a man that looks like white Jesus that calls himself "Ra the God '' and "Sun King". They head to a place that Bushman called an "Undiscovered tribe of underdeveloped backwards people". They take over the island for themselves and he brings in other people to populate it....

He's literally colonizing it. 

The other bad guy is an overweight drug dealing black man with possible repressed homosexual desires for the good guy. The other bad guy is a large menacing tattooed white guy that makes people spout nonsense and calls it deep truth like characters in a Chuck Palahniuk novel! 

Is anyone else as fed up with this as I am? Am I reading too much into this? Is this really not as bad as I think it is? Because…this looks pretty bad. 

Moon Knight finds Sun King on the beach who welcomes him to "Isla Ra". 

"Soon this island will burgeon with those willing to light up this shadowy world. They're like us, Marc! The sickly, the fragile, the INSANE. Society's regrettable by-product, but to me...To us... They are everything!" 

He tells Moon Knight to relax. He knows that as long as Marlene is his prisoner, Marc won't do anything to risk her. 

"Take a catnap, Marc. We fight to the death tomorrow, but tonight we indulge in a ritual." 

"A ritual you probably just made up." 

"Ra feeds my mind what it needs to know." 

"You're going to drug me, aren't you?" 

"Sleep, Marc. Tonight we become enlightened." 

So... We see nightfall and Sun King and Marc sit before a camp fire. 

So of course we get an instant jab of homophobia. 

"Why did we have to do this half naked?" 

"Shhhh Let your mind unravel, Spector." 

"I don't do well with psychedelics, Sun King." 

"It was only tea." 

"It smelled like woodstock." 

I have a problem with this. Marc is telling him flat out that he doesn't do well with psychedelics. 

Studies have shown that certain drugs can actually trigger mental illnesses that are linked to chemical imbalances. Not to mention that if he happens to be on any drugs meant to help him, they could negate their effects, interact with them poorly, or make him very ill. 

We know Marc has been in and out of mental hospitals. We know he's been drugged before in these hospitals. Forcing him to take a psychoactive trip is not a cool thing to do for the dramatic storytelling. What’s going to happen is that we’re going to get a really trippy scene of them going into Marc’s ‘messed up’ mind and he’s going to learn things, find peace or some bullshit, and then be healed. 

This gives the wrong message that doing these potentially harmful drugs will fix all your problems! Especially if you have dissociative issues or other similar issues. 

ALSO. People with DID? Not all the alters respond the same way to inebriation. Some will get drunk if they look at a beer. Others can do a LOT of pot and not feel a thing. The brain is a fascinating and complex place. Marc could do psychedelics and Jake could just be having a nice time while Steven has the worst trip of his life. 

Sun King goes on. 

"We share what they label 'insanity'. That gives me a gateway into your beautiful, tortured mind. Let me in, Marc. Let US in." 

NOT ALL MENTAL ILLNESSES ARE THE SAME. ONE CRAZY DOES NOT ALL CRAZY MAKE. 

And Marc starts tripping. 

In Marc's mind, we find Marc, Jake, Steven, Khonshu, Sun King, and Ra. 

Ra calls Khonshu a "bad boy" and Khonshu calls Ra a "loathsome fascist." 

Marc tries to tell himself that this isn't real. Jake demands to know how Ra can be there if it's "all just made up by Marc's mind". 

"Steven is distressed and theorizes that "I think we've entered the world of metaphor, Jake. ANd it's scaring the hell out of me." 

Bemis must really dislike Steven Grant. He writes him as weak, cowardly, clingy, and narcissistic. Not a fan. 

So now, Ra takes hold of Khonshu and tells him to show him the truth. 

He spouts a lot of garbage here and it just... It's fanatical. It's... It's dangerous. 

What do I mean by that? He's talking about things like righteousness. About prophets and saviors and gives images of a world under idealistic circumstances where everyone gets along because he rules it. 

Marc snaps out of his trans by the fire to declare "No... Ra is....RIGHT?!" 

There was nothing right about that crap. It makes no sense. It’s just propaganda crap. There is no just and right and perfect in this vision. It’s a problem. A big problem. 

END ISSUE. 

One more to go. I can’t wait to put the Sun King behind us. 

After all? How much worse can it get? (spoilers so much worse. Sooooooo much worse). 

ISSUE # 193

I like how the past two covers have had NOTHING to do with the actual story inside. It’s like they are trying to make it look cooler and more dramatic than things are. 

Moon Knight in the jungle? I’d read that. Marc spent a lot of time in South America. Although, standing on his cape like that means he can't stand up without falling out of the tree. Just saying. 

Alright so... Marc went on a drug trp and came to the realization that Ra and Sun King were right for some reason? 

And this broke him and made him some passive weakling for some reason? 

We see him wake up the next day and being kicked around and dragged around because "the moon can't save me now." 

Then he's taken to a tent with some old lady outside knitting and she uses her flaming hot knitting needles to burn a sun into his back? 

Back with Frenchie and Diatrice, we see her praying to "Dear Mister Khonshu" and she asks that he not let "the bad men kill my daddy." 

She asks him to let Marc save her mom so they can be a family. 

Marc is pretty broken now and he's taken to see Marlene. 

He tells her that "this time is different"

"I know. He's different. I know because I'm actually scared." 

And Marc begs Marlene not to let Diatrice forget him because he's going to die. 

Why are they acting like Sun King is some super huge bad guy unlike any they have ever faced before? They have faced WORSE. 

He's fought ghosts. He's fought vampires. He's fought werewolves. He's faced aliens and apocalyptic events! 

Some hippy looking man with flames is NOTHING. 

HE'S FOUGHT SO MANY ANIMALS (I need to make a list). 

Marc is taken to a ring of fire and tossed inside to face the Sun King in a battle to the death. 

He tells Marc to fight like he means it or he'll hunt down his daughter and burn her to death. 

They fight and he takes a beating because suddenly Sun King knows how to fight? 

He sets fire to Marc more than a few times. 

Back in the head space, Jake tells Khonshu that they have to do something. 

I have real issue with the assessment here. 

Khonshu tells him: 

"Look around us. We're just faint firings of his synapses now. His defense against the darkness. As we have been since his childhood, and...Our connection is nearly severed. He is alone now, save for death itself." 

This is the belief that Marc is "the original" and that he created the others to deal with things and gave them all parts of himself. 

This is old thinking that people with DID were just shattered and broken bits of themselves that needed to be put back together. It's outdated. It's insulting. 

Why does everything Khonshu says just sound like absolute drivel? 

Like he was TRYING to be deep and just spouting off things that sounded metaphorical. It's just bad writing. He's clearly trying to copy Lemire. 

So he asks if Jake has ever believed in anything. 

And Jake remembers Diatrice. 

And they all take a moment to bask in the glow of their daughter’s memory. 

Then we get Steven’s version of what Khonshu said. 

Yeah. This is where that saying comes from. 

Somehow this gives them the ability to punch harder? 

And he starts beating on Sun King. 

He gets the Sun King to admit that he fears him now for some reason. 

And this makes everyone happy like some sort of 1980s movie.

And the Sun King can no longer use his fire. Because 

"I convinced you. Now Bow before me you horrible bastard." 

I'm not sure it works like that, Marc. But sure. You convinced him. 

And the Sun King bows down before him. 

"Thus ends the reign of the Sun King." 

And the people in the croud are cheering? Despite being there to support the Sun King and because they hate Moon Knight. 

Later we find Marlene bandaging up Marc's burns. 

The Truth stands by watching for the boat to return to get them off the island. 

"The man's cause is dead to me. Proven false by his impotence. I would undo any affiliation I had with him. I've found the facts of life to be more...Malleable than I realized. Maybe with some time in a room by myself...I might reassess my purpose." 

Yeah sure. A man is impotent because he lost a fight with another man and now no one believes in him. 

This is some fucked up masculine toxicity. 

Marc turns to address the other people on the island. 

"All of you just got stuck on a desert island because you let yourself get convinced of a bunch of crap by a completely mad super villain."

Uh huh. So the notion of him raising his own group of followers and warriors out of normal people. Cause that isn’t an issue. Obviously these people are easily swayed and maybe a bit fanatical. So telling them that you are now the new leader is not problematic at ALL. 

Also? That “I believe” in the back? 

We get a zoom in. I’m not going to show you the image. 

It’s Dr. Emmett! 

She's in her Moon Knight cloak thing (why would she bring that to the island with her if she was there following Sun King?). 

She's covered in burn scars and missing an eye. It's drawn to look like a rotten hole. 

Does no one believe in medical care here? Open eye holes are a problem. They run a risk of infection! Also they don't just stay open eye holes. The eyelids will collapse downward a bit. 

Anyways. She's back there going "I believe... I believe! Your doctor believes, Marc!" 

And the comic ends there. 

That was something alright. UGH. 

Give me a second to gather my thoughts up from this burning dump of ableism and poorly depicted mental health peppered with racism and anti-semitism. 

Volume one of Bemis is like a love letter to the kinds of people that think it’s fun and funny to show mentally ill people as dangerous, wild, unpredictable, and overall pathetic. 

The continuous use of language like ‘Insane’ and ‘Crazy’ is more than poor taste. It’s a constant reminder that we aren’t supposed to see Moon Knight as normal at all or even sympathies or identify with him. 

You see, there is a difference between “We have the power of crazy” and “You were the only superpower I ever had.” 

A big difference. 

In the former, it’s played up for laughs. Much like the old gags of seeing a man in a dress. It doesn’t age well but it persists. It persists because it still garners laughs. And the people that are still laughing are the people like Bemis. And he draws in more people who are like minded and he tells them it’s okay to keep laughing. 

The latter is a beautiful way to show that having DID was a powerful and wonderful way to be strong enough to survive when everything didn’t want you to. 

How did he get away with this? He is Bipolar. I’m not going to argue if he is or isn’t. I don’t know him and that’s his own personal history. I’m going to argue that being Bipolar does not give you the right to assume you understand ALL mental illnesses or that you can write for all of them. Or even lump crazy with crazy. 

Marvel is the sort to say “Ah yes, this person had a drink with a black person once so they should be able to write for Luke Cage.” Or “I took high school spanish so I can write for Miles Morales.” 

We can’t put up with this anymore. We can’t let them do this. We can’t let Marvel keep perpetuating things that hurt us. That hurt others. That keeps ripping the power away from those with so very little to begin with. 

So this is Vol 1 of Bemis.��

“But Drifting Pieces” you might say “How can it get worse than this? This was pretty bad.” 

My friend… You are in for a ride. 

PART THREE: HERE

[blackbeardsemophase]

The thing is, Stede has never liked piracy for the same reason that Ed despises it.

It's just that Stede believes it's a matter of skill and experience that he needs to obtain in order to be a "real pirate" and that once he gains those things, he'll be magically okay with the gore-y bits. The soul crushing bits. The poison.

Stede desperately wants to belong and to have friends because more than anything he wants respect and love - things he has never had before. He's interested in the idea of community and team work and communication - it just so happens that he has made these interests pirate flavored because it facilitated the latter. Own a big cool ship, get a bunch of crew who were basically hired friends, and do something stereotypically masculine in an attempt to feel like a success.

We see Stede haunted/guilt ridden even by his involvement in the accidental deaths of the Badmintons. Yes, part of his guilt is due to feelings of inadequacy stemming from his failed marriage/domestic life, but the other half is feelings of inadequacy at being a pirate aka committing acts of violence. The whole reason Stede pushes back against the whole "traditionally piracy is a culture of abuse" is because it makes him uncomfortable to do violence. This is well established within the first episodes of season one, and during Stede's reaction to raids, or to Calico Jack, or Chauncey's death.

Episode 2x06 was a great culmination of this point about Stede. When he had Ned at swordpoint, he had to decide whether or not he was going to kill him. Ed, who knows extremely well how bad it feels to kill from his own firsthand experience, cautioned Stede against it in an effort to spare Stede these awful feelings of guilt and trauma (which I think Ed knows Stede would feel because he can tell how Stede handles violence and it isn't well). Stede is therefore torn between performing the violence that is expected of him as a pirate captain (there is so much to say about how this relates to masculinity that I don't have the words for) or saving himself the trauma of killing. In the end, Stede kills Ned and we immediately see in his expression that he is upset, so much so that he flashes back to his childhood; one scene of himself picking flowers and being soft and the other of him watching horrified as his father slaughtered the goose. He also retreats to his quarters to isolate where he sits on the sofa in much the same way as he did after Nigel died in s1. It was a perfect setup to illustrate that at the end of the day, Stede is never going to be okay with killing in the same way that Ed isn't. Their relationship to violence runs nearly parallel, and once Stede realizes this completely I think he and Ed will come to a compromise about how they want to spend the rest of their lives together and what they really want to do.

[providing-leverage]

I've had a fic idea kicking around in the back of my mind for a while where Ted and Beard give the team a safe sex talk.

Because these two came not just from coaching a whole different sport, but a whole different demographic college-age young men who grew up in the US, probably in red/conservative states. And in the US, especially red states, we don't get sex ed in high school. Abstinence-only is the norm.

The first time I got any kind of sex ed that wasn't preaching abstinence was in a college course where my professor had realized that this gap in our education, while sucking for us, also impeded our ability to understand some of the later material. She developed a sex ed course taught over two weeks or so.

In this vein, Ted and Beard realized while working with college students that their teams were lacking some vital info about things like STDs and consent. So they threw together a power point which they normally present at the beginning of a season, which is part of their getting settled ritual.

The original premise of this fic was something fun, comedic and fluff filled. Pure crack. I have done zero research on sex education in the K and other countries where the AFC Richmond players are from but I'm sure it's better than the United States because the bar is on the floor. Plus these guys are older and more experienced so the talk would be a refresher kinda thing. I was going to throw in a few paragraphs about how Ted and Beard made an effort to include talk about non straight sex too, for that to resonate with Colin. Maybe make this happen when Trent was shadowing Ted, or have Trent hear rumors and grill Ted about it like he did about Sam's birthday party.

But then, just now, it occurred to me that depending on the timeline, Jamie might still be there. So it's early season 1. Maybe just after the gala. And when Ted starts talking about how consent matters so so much, not just for the girl but the guy too, that brings up some...stuff.

Because they're talking about informed, enthusiastic consent. What counts as consent. Relationship dynamics. How you do it because you want to, not because you've been told by a partner or society that you should. Honestly might segway into asexual spectrum Jamie because my own asexuality colors my writing and interpretation of characters (Jamie being ace in sex-positive, likes to make his partners feel good vein, similar to how @zehwulf talked about evidence towards Ted being asexual) and also because I enjoy ace-ifying characters.

Anyway, the TLDR of it: I had a fun idea and now I'm thinking about Jamie Tartt's trauma. A normal occasion, in this fandom, I think.

[love-me-a-lotta-whump]

낭만닥터 김사부3 - Dr. Romantic 3 ep.10 & 11 - Episode Highlight - 🇰🇷

Whumpee: 서우진 (Seo Woo Jin) played by 안효섭 (Ahn Hyo Seob)

Synopsis: At Doldam Hospital, Dr. Kim Sa Bu and his team are committed to saving lives. After three years, a state-of-the-art trauma centre is set to open, equipped with the latest in medical technology.

Genre/Tags: Medical, Found Family, Romance, Whumpee w/ Trauma

Watch On: Hulu, DramaCool, KissAsian

Notes at the bottom + bonus GIF

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW

Episode 10

(Ppl are concerned for him during the entire first part of the episode)

7:43 - unconscious, concern for him, woke up, coughing, trying to move but can’t, in shock, shaky breathing, shaking, crying out in pain, heavy breathing, groaning

13:23 - (all one scene but a lot going on/breaks) heavy breathing, sweating ::: concern for him, shaking, sweating, heavy breathing, wound reveal (?), shaking, struggling to speak, said he was in a lot of pain, shaking, shaky breathing

21:55 - (1 scene but has small breaks) found, shaking, struggling to speak, heavy breathing, told the rebar would have to be pulled from his body, concern for him ::: shaking, sweating, shaky breathing ::: talking about how pulling out the rebar will be “unbearably painful”, shaking, tourniquet put on his arm, given pain medications, held down, scared, heavy breathing, screaming, held, writhing, crying, shaking, heavy breathing, concern for him, comforted, bleeding

31:08 - rolled into the ED, shaking, sweating, shaky breathing, concern for him, moved to a bed, in a lot of pain, wide eyes, examined, heavy breathing, writhing

38:05 - being prepped for surgery, unconscious, facial wounds bandaged

38:40 - in surgery, intubated, arm operated on (continued to below (47:33))

47:33 - still in surgery, unconscious, intubated

53:08 - asleep in the ICU, oxygen mask, arm wrapped in bandages, woke up, concern for him, heavily lidded eyes, weak

56:32 - (flashbacks: struggling to walk, half collapsed into a shelf, holding his ribs, all beat up, stumbling)

1:08:05 - arm in a sling, IV, looked after, glassy eyes, crying

Episode 11

16:22 - scar reveal, doing physical rehab for his hand

———+———

MORE WHUMP LISTS >>> {x}

I used KissAsian to make this Episode Highlight. The time stamps may vary across platforms.

Here’s another GIF from the drama 😏

[adzeisval]

Izzy's Protectiveness

This got a bit rambly but here we go.

I love characters who have a trait that is both a positive and a negative one and Izzy’s protectiveness is definitely both. I also think that Izzy’s protectiveness is part a natural inclination to it, part of his job as first mate, and part a reaction to past trauma. 

I think this trait is the most positive when it comes to protecting his crew. Mind you, you have to be HIS crew not the crew of a ship Blackbeard has taken over. Izzy makes a deal with Stede for the hostages to not only get the knife out of his face but to protect Ivan and Fang as well. He also seems upset that they “lost several of their men” in the attempt to get Stede. He tries to bring the crew’s looking worse for wear condition to Ed’s attention and when Ed’s waving a gun around on deck Izzy makes sure no one on the crew gets shot. 

(On a side note, this need to protect the crew isn’t always his main motivation, when he teams up with the English to try to get rid of Stede that definitely puts the crew in harm's way but his hatred of Stede at the moment overrides everything else.)

The trait moves from protective to overprotective when it comes to Ed. Izzy believes that by shoving his softer traits down Ed is protecting himself and therefore should keep that shield up to avoid getting hurt. And once Blackbeard becomes famous and people just give up at the sight of his flag? Well that’s a good thing in Izzy’s mind, it protects Ed, himself, and the crew all in one go.That need overrides any inkling Izzy has about how Blackbeard is hurting Ed and is no longer something Ed needs. Izzy also wrongly thinks that getting Stede out of the picture will protect Ed.

Now this is getting into a highly speculative part but I would be willing to bet some of Izzy’s issues come from his own trauma and how he’s learned to protect himself. 

Somewhere along the line someone hurt Izzy and he dealt with it by closing up and putting up shields and not showing the soft core of himself for fear of getting hurt again. So I’d imagine he sees that softness in Ed and teaches him to hide it away or else you’re going to get hurt and Izzy doesn’t want to see Ed get hurt like that. Izzy is wrong, of course, and he ends up hurting Ed instead of protecting him. 

So while Izzy being protective is a good thing he sometimes goes about the wrong way and ends up hurting instead of protecting. Luckily this is OFMD and Izzy learns that opening up around the right people can be worth the risk of potential hurt. You can find a place where you can dress in drag and sing and those around you will celebrate with you. Izzy also realizes that Ed needs to do the same and the end result is worth letting one’s guard down. 

You just have to find the right people.

[mxngldmxdnsss]

The Hunt - series

Chap 5. Decode - Recom Miles Quaritch

I’m literally so tired rn wtf

pairing - recom miles quaritch x omatikaya!fem!reader

cw! violence, war, guns, fire, trauma, this may be triggering to some with ed’s, death and nurses

Note : this chapter is DARK if you have problems with the content of this writing please do not read it any further. this series will have dark content. I apologize for saying this however I’m not responsible for the thoughts that come with this piece, I can only warn you and provide viewer discretions.

mature content ahead : proceed with caution!

The cries of those people replayed over and over inside your head. Their screams of horror and fear. The sounds of guns and the heat of the fire set on the villages. It reminded you of hometree.

You remembered it like it was yesterday The cries of your people, sobbing as their only home they’d known was brought down in a day. You could still picture it. Could still hear it. Your people never stopped grieving their beloved hometree. Even you found yourself crying over your home. You could never visit for too long without fearing the sky people finding you.

You believed you could find a way to change these people. But they were savages. Ripping people from their homes. Taking no mercy on them. Killing their bonds like they were nothing. It tore you apart inside. How naive you’d been to believe that you could befriend, even mate with the monster in charge of the team.

It was one village after another, you felt so weak and helpless. Unable to do anything to ease the cries and pleas of the innocents. They looked to you for help, and all you could do was hope to calm them, even as your captors brought hell onto them. As the soldiers held guns to their heads and demanded answers.

The terror you witnessed all over again. It was horrifying, and you had to play part. The thought made you shudder as another sob escaped your throat. You brought a hand to your mouth and curled in on yourself, rocking yourself to sleep. You hoped the morning would never come, that the land would be forever shrouded in darkness, punishment for the sins brought upon Eywa and her people. You prayed to Eywa, words muddled by your broken cries. Spending the days to come, wailing as you hoped to wash away your sins.

You could hardly eat or sleep, the thoughts of what had happened plaguing your mind like death. Only you knew death was paradise to anything or anyone in the metal box you were trapped in.

Eventually the caretakers began to worry when your tray returned full, and your vitals dropped. They didn’t understand, they could never understand. To grieve so deeply for life you’d never known, was a feeling foreign to their cold hearts. The sky people were no different from stone. And the demons you’d once wanted to change, were hollow, void of feeling or compassion. Like dolls made from grass and leaves, made to obey.

You sighed at this thought, finding distraction from the uncomfortable ‘iv’ attached to your arm. Looking down, you observed the blossoming bruise surrounding the needle. It stung. Everything stung. Inside and out. All you wanted was to go home to never leave camp again. You felt tears forming in your eyes at this. The dreams of home felt real sometimes. Only to find yourself waking to the walls of your cell.

The reality of everything never felt so painful. You’d that that after war and loss, that you would feel numbness to everything. But it was opposite, all you could was feel every emotion from before. You felt it all in its fullness. You felt the anguish from your warriors, who felt nothing but failure. And you lived the cries of parents who lost their mates and children. It was a hard pill to swallow, but you knew that these humans needed tastes of their own medicine.

You knew when you got home you would have to tell your clan everything, and you knew that there would be war, greater than before. This time with more than the forest Na’vi fighting. You could only hope that before your release you could stay strong, your people needed you, needed your intel and insight. You only wished the Great Mother would show you how, how to help her people.

And she did. That night you dreamed something you thought was only a desire. But she showed you the hurt and pain it would bring beforehand. You knew you had a choice, but the choices separate from Eywa’s will, were measured. You thought of them, finding ways to make them work. But you knew that go succeed for your people, you would need to present Eywa, in all of her glory, to whom who’s fate was undecided.

You would need him to see Eywa. And for Eywa, him.

Your heart cried for him, although your mind seethed. It was him, you knew deep down, who Eywa had chosen to help bring balance to the sky people. With his influence he could bring peace to the humans, and with their peace, the Na’vi would be free from war.

You swallowed your fear and asked for him, all of him. Promising good health, just for his presence.

The nurses could only give you what you wanted, their worry for you more powerful than the fear for the General. They were happy, you figured. They were happy to have you bathed and changed, to have you fed and rested. You were relieved, their will to help so powerful. Like light within the darkness.

After you were cared for, they even started to move your things. You were given a room with a window, able to look out at the forest beyond the fences. Your home. You just had to comply, to learn their ways as they learned yours. It’d seemed that Eywa’s will extended to the sky people who didn’t believe in her. It was strange but a comfort to the pain you’d pushed down.

You’d kept your gaze on the trees, even as your caretakers came in and gave you a check up, and reminded you that he would visit you. Within your silence you’d prepared the way you’d fulfill your task. Praying once more to Eywa for guidance and signs, to know you were doing this correctly.

Ignoring the sound of the door as you witnessed atokirina’. You shivered, the spirits in numbers. It was enough to bring you to tears. You believed, in everything now. You had a mission, and without fail you would complete it. ‘Eywa’s mission.’

Wiping your tears you turned, expression content as you smiled at the person before you.

“Y/n.”

“Miles.”

Chap 6. It Will Rain

taglist - @gremlinfuck @katkat1918 @sublimedeersong

[chicaotaku-fanfics]

There's Three of You?! Pt. 7

Finally! Part 7 and, *drumroll please...* Enter Connor Rhodes, Sarah Reese, and the rest of the Med gang!! I'm so excited!

Let us begin!

Warnings: foul language, might be some medical inconsistencies.

CHAPTER 7

After some months, the new Emergency Department was finally gonna be inaugurated.

While the ED was been remodeled, many new people joined the team, such as our new head nurse Maggie Lockwood, and other doctors, like Dr. Ethan Choi, who specializes in infectious diseases, Dr. Natalie Manning, a pediatrician… she is a good doctor but I personally don’t like her, and many others. And there was also a student doctor, Sarah Reesee, who is just so cute! She seems a bit insecure, but I hope we can get her out of her shell. Meanwhile, some people stayed… and by some people I mean my personal headache: Dr. Zanetti.

And also, we were all sent on a leave while the ED was made… which was good, we had some time off and Will and I were able to catch up after all the time he was away.

Ms. Goodwin asked us all to be on time, wearing our coats and standing outside the doors for the grand reopening. Wearing mine, which had the hospital’s logo and name on the left side, my name stitched on the right with the words “Emergency Medicine” just below it made me proud. My burgundy scrubs matching my brother’s, as well as all of the other doctors.

The media and press where here, as well as the mayor, it was big.

“Thank you. We owe a great debt of gratitude to one man in particular. He championed us, supported us, and happily, along the way, befriended us. Without his help, this incredible new emergency department would never have become a reality. Our Mayor, Rahm Emanuel.” She said, we all cheered for him, he gave us something we were only gonna be able to repay him by giving our patients the best care possible.

“Thank you. On behalf of all the people of the City of Chicago, all the families, all the parents who will be bringing their kids and their family members here in dire need of care, I want to thank you ahead of schedule for what you do every day to making sure that everybody counts in the City of Chicago. Thank you.” said the mayor.

We all again cheered for him. Then with the help of Ms Goodwin they cutted the ribbon, Will and I cheered the loudest, and just as it fell, Will’s pager went off, then mine too, then it was as if a symphony of pagers had started. I looked at Will, he looked at me, then Natalie looked at us, and as we were trying to understand what was happening, the mayor was ushered away and the ED doors opened, Maggie came out calling what could only be my worst nightmare for the first/second-first day at the same hospital.

“CFD Plan 2, mass cas. Multiple trauma patients minutes away. Let's go!” she said.

As one, we all started entering the ED. Will, Ethan and I being some of the first people inside, I had already taken off my coat, looked at them both and they understood, passing me their coats. I opened the door to the doctors lounge, threw the coats on the sofa and went back out. I grabbed a pair of gloves and snapped them on as I was waiting for the patients to arrive.

Some flashbacks from the bomber incident filled my mind for a second. I shook my head to get back to reality, and just in time, because the first patient was rolled in, followed by the rest.

Maggie waved at the sensor at the door for it to open faster.

“What do we have?” she asked the paramedic.

“45-year-old male, left leg amputation.” he answered, I walked up to him, then looked at Maggie.

“Treatment two!” she said, we walked there, got the patient into a bed, but I could still hear the commotion outside.

“Train motorman. GCS 3. BP of 90 by palp.” another paramedic said.

“Maggie, where’re we going?” asked my brother.

“Go to trauma 4.” she answered. After that, I focused on my patient.

I asked for a chest x-ray to make sure my decision to put in a chest tube was right after my initial assessment with my stethoscope, -surprise, it was, had to cut into him to control a big left pressure hemopneumothorax with some shift-, I then secured his airway, -to no one's surprise, he started crashing, his pressure dropped as well as his O2 levels, I had to intubate him, which only took me about 15 seconds, he had a loose jaw which worried me a bit-, then treated the blood loss and sent him up into the OR to try and fix the stump this guy was gonna get after losing his leg.

I took off the gloves I was wearing and grabbed a new pair on my way to the ambulance bay, just then, another patient rolled in… with a guy on top of him performing CPR.

“28-year-old male, crush injuries, severed artery, massive blood loss.” I heard the guy say, I started walking towards him to help.

“Trauma three just opened.” said Maggie.

“Got a tourniquet on his right leg. Tried to intubate but couldn't get his jaw open. He lost his pulse on the ride.” he added. Well that’s not good, not good at all.

“Put him on our monitor and rapid transfuser. Grab 4 units of O-neg, and start with a round of epi.” said my brother.

“Already hit him with the epi times two. Still no pulse. He's in fib.” said the guy again.

“Let's get him in the bay. I got it from here, man.” said my brother, but the guy refused to give up.

“Nope, he's mine.” he said

“Okay, who the hell is this guy?” asked my brother, irritated, I wanted to smack him, but it wouldn’t look professional.

“Says he's a doc.” said one of the paramedics.

“Get off the gurney, Doc. I'm senior resident in this ER.” said my brother, throwing his status around.

“Yeah? Well, I'm your new trauma fellow.” said the raven haired man. Damn! Outranked by the new guy.

“And I’m a junior resident but you don’t see me bragging about it Will. Focus on the patients.” I said, walking into the the trauma bay to assist the guy.

“Dr. Halstead!” I heard Maggie call and I lifted my head, at the same time that Will turned his. This called the attention of the new guy, Maggie pointed to my brother to indicate it was him who she was calling.

Then came in the student doctor, Sarah Reese… she’s kinda cute.

“Hold compressions.” ordered the guy, then cutted a line in the patient’s trachea to be able to stick the tube to ventilate. Then he turned to us. “You are?”

“Sarah Reese, fourth year med student.” said the girl beside me.

“Dr. Lillian Halstead. Junior resident.” I answered

“Can you do a cordis in the groin?” he asked Reesee.

“Mm-hmm.” she answered.

“Get a left femoral in there.”  he told her.

“Yes, sir.” she answered, she went and got the kit, started doing the procedure in the slowest pase possible. Even I was getting desperate, I took the disinfectant and squirted a good amount on the area.

“There, you're sterilized.” I said first, I never saw the new doctor was looking at us. “Now stick it.” the new guy and I said at the same time, that surprised me, but I hid it well.

She tried to get the line started, but she couldn’t, she was visibly struggling to get it. Doris, one of the nurses commented on it.

“He's a patient, not a pin cushion.” she said coldly.

“I can't find a vein.” said Reesee, I took over and got the line on my first try, drawing a bit of blood.

“Done.” I said.

“All right. Shock to 120.” he instructed, as the machine was appropriately charged, he gave another instruction. “Clear.” We all stepped back and the patient was shocked.

“No pulse.” Said Doris.

“Again. 200. Clear.” he said again, changing the voltage this time.

We all stay where we are and this second shock manages to restart the patients heart.

“I have a pulse. Sinus tach at 112.” said Doris again, I let out a relieved breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“And...he's back. Get a BP and keep giving him blood. Send a rainbow of tubes and a type and cross. Get his blood gas and get him to the OR.” he instructed, I helped with the handrail on the gurney and the nurses rolled it out of the room, heading straight for the elevators.

I snap my gloves off and out of the corner of my eye see Ms. Goodwin stepping away from the room. I turn to the girl who seemed upset, I place my hand on her shoulder.

“Please don’t take it personally. When you’re in the ED, you gotta be quick. Ok?” I asked her, she just nodded, still a bit down in the dumps, I tried to cheer her up. “Between you and me, I was treated as an errand girl on my first day, getting scolded by a doctor? Seems like nothing in comparison.” she smiled a small smile and stepped out. I smiled too, and then stepped out of the room myself.

I was about to go see if I had another patient, but to my surprise I found Dr. Hotshot on an empty room, without a shirt on, stitching his arm. I grabbed my third pair of gloves of the day and made my presence known to him.

“Dr. Mystery, I thought you could use these.” I said, he only turned his head momentarily to look over his shoulder. Sweet Jesus, if I wasn’t tired of men, he would be THE top of my dating list.

“Thank you.” he said, I smiled at him and then looked down at the needle and thread he was using.

“How'd that happen?” I asked, he kept his attention on what he was doing.

“Must have snagged it on the wreckage.” he said, as if it was an everyday occurrence, again not looking at me.

“You know, we do have a couple of doctors around here.” at that he did turn to look at me and gave me a small smile. “I could hook you up.” I said, teasing smile on my face, pointing to my name stitched into my scrub so he could see the «Dr.» before my name.

“I don't need one, but I could use some help though. Come be my other hand.” he said with a small smile on his face, my smile remained but it changed to a sincere one. I took a step closer to him and was finally able to notice the technique in his stitching so far.

“Oh, nice. You closed that like a plastic surgeon. Where'd you pick that up?” I asked, curious he looked at me quickly and gave another small smile, before focusing on his arm again.

“Riyadh. Spent a year there after my residency. Saudis paid me well not to leave unsightly scars.” he explained, giving me another quick glance, I was honestly impressed. Then his tone changed into a questiouning one, “Could you pinch those two sides together?” I did, but he kept his attention on what he was doing.

“What about a tetanus shot?” I recomended, taking in consideration that we didn’t know what he nicked himself with.

“No, I am current, Dr. Lillian… Lillian Halstead.” he said, after reading my name, I figured that when I introduced myself earlier his mind wasn’t on my name, but on the patient he was treating, I smiled at him again.

He looked at me with those, oh so, blue eyes of his, and I wanted to melt. Sweet Mother of God! This man is HANDSOME.

“English? Irish?” he asked, curiosity clear in his eyes.

“Irish ascendance actually, my great-times-something grandparents were Irish immigrants who came here with the, now famous, «American Dream», but I was born and raised here in Chicago, Canaryville to be exact, you?”

“Chicago too. Born and bred as well. Been away for a while.” he said, I became curious, haven’t heard his name yet and still I’m learning a lot about this guy. 

“Welcome home then.” I said, the smile still on my face. His smile was enough answer for me.

I left the room and went into the doctors lounge, grabbed my coat from the couch and hanged it in the space under my locker, which was right beside my brother’s. Just then I noticed my brother, sitting at one of the computers, a coffee mug near him, looking lost as Hell.

“Well, there's something I don't often see: Will Halstead looking stumped.” I said to tease him. He sighed.

“Why is it that brain injuries are never like you read in the textbooks?” he asked while getting up, grabbing the mug and serving himself another cup of coffee, I shrugged and nodded him to go on.

“My pregnant TBI patient, bilateral contusions. She was a GCS 3. And now, all of a sudden, she's exhibiting movement, and she's improved to a 6.” he said.

“Well, color me impressed. That’s the first time I hear something like that, but that’s good, right?” I asked him, he shrugged.

“Yeah. The baby's parents will be happy.” he said, a bit irritated, I looked at him questioningly.  “Oh, she's a-- she's a surrogate.” he added.

“Oh. Wow.” I said, knowing what that meant, and knowing my brother knew I had understood his position.

“Yeah.” he said, I sat on the sofa and he was on the table. As soon as my butt hit the cushions I let out a tired groan.

“You meet the new guy yet?” I asked Will, then facepalmed myself because, yes he has, I nearly bit this idiot’s head off for snapping at him in the ED.

“You could say that… you were there! Likes to throw his weight around. I don't know, strikes me as a little arrogant.” he said, I gave him my signature «are you kidding me» look at that statement.

“Takes one to know one” I whispered to myself, but being the only ones in the lounge, it was perfectly clear for my brother, he looked at me with a confused and surprised smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean young lady? I’m not arrogant” he said, I couldn’t hold it in and I started laughing, he looked at me and chuckled.

“Hey, I am not arrogant.” he repeated, I snorted again.

“No, no, no, no, no, of course you’re not, you just happen to know more than anybody else.” I said, then stood up and left, but had to hold the door open for little Ms. Natalie Manning.

“Dr. Manning.” I said as a greeting, she looked at me and gave the fakest sweetest smile I have ever seen.

“Hey Lilly.” she said with that awfully sweet tone, as soon as she was inside the lounge, my brother’s attitude changed entirely, I wanted to gag. So I just let the door fall close and went on my merry way around the ED to see who else I could help.

I witnessed April calling Dr. Mystery away to meet with the relative of the patient he treated, Jorge Melendez, -as I had learned his name-, and was yet again surprised by this new doctor who spoke Spanish fluently. I walked over to Maggie and April with a shocked look on my face.

“He speaks Spanish?” asked Maggie in a whisper, I let out a little chuckle, -the one Will swears makes me look/sound exactly like Jay, but won’t admit he makes it too-, then bit my lower lip. That made both nurses look at me.

“If I wasn’t swinging for women right now, I would definitely date him.” I said as if it was nothing, that made both Maggie and April look at me with even more shock on their faces.

“Wait, you’re…” but April’s question was cutted short with the arrival of a very familiar person’s voice.

“But to me, you're as fair as you were, Maggie. When you and I were young.” Hermann sang as he placed a container on top of the desk.

“Hey, Herrmann.” the three of us answered, one after the other, he smiled at us.

“You boys hanging in there?” asked Maggie, being the total mother hen I’ve learned she is.

“Well, you know, it's a train wreck.” he said, I wanted to laugh but knew it wasn’t the time.

“Hm.” was Maggie’s answer.

“You?” he asked, being the sweetheart that he is.

“Same.” Maggie again answered.

“Is that from the crash site?” I asked, pointing slightly towards the container.

“Yeah, it's the first load.” he said, looking at me, then looking back at the container. “Cell phones, shoes, wallets, purses.”

“Thank you.” I said, smiling a sincere smile at him.

“You're welcome.” he smiled back, he started leaving until he called me again. “Hey kiddo.” I turned to look at him. “Good to see you.” he said, I smiled at him again.

I let Maggie open the container and took the first bag that came out to inspect it, trying to find something to identify the owner. We looked at each other in slight shock when we discovered she had pulled Jorge’s bag. I gave Maggie the honor of delivering the bag and its contents to Marina, -the woman who I had learned was Jorge’s girlfriend-, and then went into the doctors lounge again, this time to update some charts on my amputee patient.

Then came in Will, for another cup of coffee. I was about to make a comment about it and how a lot of coffee wasn’t really good for his health, but the new guy entered the room, dressed in his scrubs, looking hot as hell, but with a tired/irritated expression on his face.

I was then witness to the stupidest argument ever.

“Your comatose guy… seems like you'd want to put him on the hypothermic protocol and protect his brain.” said Will, then he placed the rim of his cup to his lips and took sip from it, I thought it would be a good idea, but I had seen the medical history of the guy, it wouldn’t work, poor Jamie had been through Hell and back.

“Well, I just gave him 20 units of blood. His pH is only 7.2, and he's too cold to make a clot, so I didn't see how the hypothermic protocol would help him.” the new doctor said while putting on his coat, I noticed the name on it and became genuinely surprised.

“Hey, you're the fellow. I'm just a resident.” said my brother, and I honestly wanted to strangle Will.

The new guy went to the little coffee bar, grabbed a mug and served himself some coffee, I considered getting my own second dose of caffeine for the day, but just then, my brother decided to open his mouth again.

Will… watch what comes out of your mouth next, if not, I’ll be the one having to resuscitate you after I kill you.

“Heard you're local. Me, too. Where'd you grow up?” he asked, the new doc, Dr. Rhodes, looked like he was gonna strangle my brother before me if he didn’t shut up.

“Lake Shore Drive.” I was impressed, getting those details made me realize who exactly was Dr. Rhodes, but decided to keep my mouth shut, if he hadn’t said anything yet, it was for a reason.

Will let out an impressed whistle before answering “Nice. Well, I doubt we have any friends in common.” Dr. Rhodes looked at my brother with a «try me» kind of expression. “Canaryville.” my brother added next.

“Oh.” said Dr. Rhodes, just then he noticed me, but I made the universal sign for silence and pleaded with my eyes for him not to say anything.

“Where'd you go to med school? Johns Hopkins? Stanford?” Will asked, and AGAIN I wanted to strangle him.

“No. I went to UAG.” Rhodes said, I was impressed. Like I said before, I was learning more about him by the minute.

“Where's that?” asked Will. That’s when I decided to make my presence known.

“Guadalajara.” both Rhodes and I said, Will, honest to God, jumped when he heard me.

“Didn't see that coming.” he said. “Nor saw you in here.” he said to me, like it was an afterthought. Just then his phone got a notification, he pulled it out, looked at it and excused himself, grabbing his coat on his way out. “Got to go.”

I let out a long breath, covering my face with my hands, I heard Dr. Rhodes move, and I assumed he turned to look at me. I dragged my hands down my face, not caring about my make up, I was gonna end up redoing it by the end of the day anyway.

 “Please ignore my brother. I’m pretty sure he knocked his head somewhere along the line when he was a kid.” I said, finally looking at my new colleague, he let out a small snort.

“So… the red knucklehead is your brother, Dr. Halstead?” he asked with a bit of a teasing tone, a very huge difference compared to his earlier mood.

“Lilly, enough with hearing 'Dr. Halstead' outside and having to ask if it’s me or Will Maggie’s calling for.” I said, he smiled at me, seeing as I wasn’t judging him on the first try.

“Connor. Pleasure to meet you Lilly. Thanks for your help earlier, and also, I’m sorry. I realized that I never introduced myself, properly, to you, so… Connor Rhodes, trauma surgeon.” he said, offering me his hand to shake, I took it and gave it a firm squeeze and shake.

“Pleasure. Again, I’m sorry about my idiot of a brother, he dismisses his brain-mouth filter sometimes.” I said. Connor chuckled at that, then kept a small smile on his face.

“Well, as long as you don’t dismiss that filter, we’ll be fine.” I smiled at him.

“Oh believe me, my personality is more Jay than Will… but I do have my moments.” he seemed confused for a second, then I remember that I mentioned Jay. “Jay’s my older brother.” I said, he looked surprised.

“So there’s three of you? Wow, you must be Chicago’s worst nightmare.” he said, a teasing glint to his eyes, I let out my patented Halstead Chuckle®.

“Only for bad guys and diseases.” I said, he again looked confused. “ Will and I are doctors, Jay’s a detective with the CPD’s Intelligence Unit.” I explained, now Connor was the one who let out an impressed whistle.

“Didn’t see that one coming.” he said, I smiled at him and offered my fist to him. He understood and bumped it. “Thanks Lilly, I really needed that.” he added. I again smiled and went on to check on my amputee patient in the ICU.

Finally!! Up to speed with AO3, which, by the way, if you want to go and leave some kudos there, feel free to do so, I'll post the link later.

Thanks again for giving this story a go and putting up with my craziness and shenanigans.

Love you all a lot, see you soon!