#I have an appointment with my primary this week so I’ll talk with him about it I guess

[floral-hex]

I’m so tired. I’m always tired. This suuuucks. and I’m sad and shitty. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but I don’t think remeron is a workin for me. Accidentally typed “wormin for me” at first. I wish it was wormin for me. Why won’t you worm for me?😔

[sserpente]

A Routine Check-Up (Kinktober #2)

Your phone buzzed. A message from Zayne showed on the display.

Your bi-annual gynaecological health exam is due. Can you come in this week?

A/N: *cough* I'm just gonna leave this here. Have fun!

Words: 2578 Warnings: you guessed it—smut ;)

Your bi-annual gynaecological health exam is due. Please schedule an appointment with your primary physician as soon as possible.

Oh. Your heart skipped a beat when you read the message that popped up on your Hunter’s Watch. Damn it all, you’d rather fight a horde of Wanderers than put yourself through that. You were, of course, very well aware of how important these regular check-ups were. Under any circumstances, they wouldn’t be a problem. But it wasn’t just any doctor that—

Your phone buzzed and you pulled it out of your pocket. A message from Zayne showed on the display.

Your bi-annual gynaecological health exam is due. Can you come in this week?

Alright then…the sooner you made an appointment, the sooner you could get this over with. You weren’t necessarily nervous about the exam itself; it was uncomfortable, sure but other than that… Ugh. It was the fact it was Dr. Zayne—your Dr. Zayne—who would be performing it. There was something you’d wanted to bring up. A little problem, so to speak.

Sure thing, Dr. Zayne! I’ll be off the clock tomorrow afternoon?

He read it. Mere seconds later, the three dots indicating he was typing a reply popped up at the bottom of your screen.

Come see me at my office at 5 PM then.

Right. You’d do that. You glanced at your bathroom door. Perhaps you should get trimmed a little down there before that.

Thinking about anything other than that fateful exam in the evening, you spent the whole day whiling away. The pile of paperwork—reports on Wanderers you defeated and the Protocores you’d retrieved—didn’t grow any smaller.

Damn it, you’d feel more comfortable walking straight into the N109 zone rather than Zayne’s office. You hesitated when you finally stood before his door, your fist hovering mid-air. You’d count to then and then you’d knock.

One, two, three, four, five…with a start, the door opened, revealing Dr. Zayne in his usual medical attire. He was wearing his glasses and he looked a bit tired around the eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t slept well either. Presumably, however, not for the same reasons as you.

You smiled. “Hello, Dr. Zayne.”

“Come on in.” Reciprocating your smile, he stepped aside. He’d already prepared the room. Normally, these types of exams were conducted in the treatment rooms but given you were a Hunter and Dr. Zayne was your primary care physician, no such arrangements had been necessary.

You took a deep breath, eyeing the gynaecological chair he’d set up.

“You seem nervous. Are you alright?”

“Me? Nervous? N-no, why would I be?”

Zayne tilted his head. His scrutinising gaze was full of worry—it often was when you discussed your health with him. “I’ve been doing your gynaecological health exams for many years now. You were never nervous before. What changed?”

Many years ago I wasn’t in love with you yet, you thought. Besides, we still haven’t talked about that kiss the other night…

“I guess I’m just a little anxious,” you lied, “Tara told me they found two cysts in one of her friends’ ovaries once.”

Zayne frowned. It was the last thing you saw before you moved behind the makeshift medical curtain to undress. Your skirt came off, and your panties soon followed.

“Have you been experiencing any pain or abnormalities?”

“I haven’t.”

“Then I don’t see any reason for worry. Have you been tracking your menstruation?”

“I have.” Timidly, you reappeared from behind the curtain and tiptoed over to the chair in your socks.

“Anything out of the ordinary? Any bad cramps or other symptoms?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Alright then. Sit down on the chair for me so we can begin.” He was always so calm, so reassuring, so…collected. Come to think of it, you had never seen him lose his temper. Even that one time he was so angry at you for dismissing yourself from the hospital early he’d been quiet—almost eerily so. It was a trait that drove you mad in the best ways possible.

Biting your lower lip, you climbed on the gynaecological chair and crossed your fingers over your belly, scooting forward until Zayne had you where he needed you. You watched him prepare a speculum and cover it in lube, his hands hidden by a pair of medical gloves.

Your heart was pounding when he moved between your legs. Knowing that this wasn’t the first time he was seeing you…down there and that there was nothing to worry about barely helped your situation.

It was different this time. You longed for his touch, longed for his presence. But…you took a deep breath when Zayne inserted the speculum into your opening slowly and carefully. But if he could stay professional, then so could you.

“I’m going to do your pap smear first. It might feel a little uncomfortable.”

You hummed by way of a response, bracing yourself. Zayne was so gentle you barely felt anything though. You almost closed your eyes. Almost.

“Alright…” he said when he was done. “Everything looks normal. No infections, no discolouration…” You were pretty certain he was talking to himself and working through a protocol in his head. You nodded regardless, resisting the urge to flinch when his hand grazed your outer lips when he removed the speculum again.

“I am going to feel inside you now to check for any abnormalities. I need you to tell me if anything hurts.”

“O-Okay.” Shit, he was going to do what now? You bit your lower lip when he inserted to fingers into your warmth. They slid inside with ease due to the lube he’d used earlier…although at this point you weren’t so sure anymore if it was just the lube that helped him.

Zayne pressed down gently on various parts of your lower body, supporting his movements by placing his palm on your abdomen.

“You’re breathing heavily. Are you in pain?”

“No. No, I’m fine, Dr. Zayne!”

“Hmm…” He paused as if he couldn’t decide whether he believed you or not. “Alright. Let’s do the ultrasound and then we’re almost done.”

You nodded yet again and pressed your lips together to a thin line.

You almost whined at the loss of his fingers inside of you. The ultrasound wand wrapped in a condom didn’t feel nearly as nice when he inserted it, his gaze fixed on the little screen next to the chair.

“Your ovaries look healthy…I can see no cysts. Your bladder looks fine too and your uterus…yes. Everything’s alright.”

He looked at you and blinked once, eliciting a shy smile from you. Good god…it was almost over.

Zayne removed the ultrasound wand and began to clean it up. “Do you have any questions for me? Or perhaps…” He hesitated. “Are you planning on getting any birth control?”

“D-Do I have to run that by you if I do?”

“Not all birth control pills or other methods might be compatible with the medication you need for your Protocore Syndrome.”

“I see…no, I…I don’t think I need anything…right now.”

“Alright. You can sit up. If you’d just remove your shirt for me so I can check your breasts for any knots…”

Your eyes widened. “Oh yeah! O-of course.”

Shit. You’d give anything to have Zayne caress your breasts under different circumstances. Embarrassment due to your obvious romantic affinity for him aside, you almost wished…

You sighed and did as you were told. Timidly, you lifted your shirt and kept your arms tucked in.

“That…that is not going to work, I’ll need to feel the side of your breasts too. Perhaps it’d be best if you remove it completely. I know it’s a little cool in my office, it won’t be for long.”

It’s not about the cold, Dr. Zayne. It’s not about the cold.

“S-Sure.”

You pulled your shirt over your head quickly. You hadn’t bothered to wear a bra today knowing the exam was due, and it was just easier that way. You were left wearing only your skirt before him now, your nails digging into the soft leather of the gynaecological chair and almost tearing the protective cover on top of it.

Zayne’s expression remained stoic. After putting on a fresh pair of medical gloves, he examined your breasts one by one. Your chest was heaving.

“Have you noticed anything unusual?”

“What? Uh, no, no, nothing unusual.”

“Good.” He retreated. “That concludes the exam. Are you sure you don’t have any questions?”

Yes. No. God, you couldn’t ask him what’d been on your mind for the past months…could you? Not anymore, not now that you and he…

A shiver went through you when he said your name—calmly but sternly. “Do you remember when I asked you to always be honest with me, especially when it comes to your health?”

“I do but—”

“But what?”

You felt your eyes heating up and sucked your lips between your teeth. “It’s…it’s embarrassing… Doctor Zayne, perhaps…perhaps I should be speaking to a female physician or a nurse about…this?”

“So there is something that troubles you.” He spoke your name yet again and damn it all, you wished he would stop being so considerate and caring for a moment. That would make things a lot easier for you right now. “Even if you do speak about this with a female physician, they are obligated to enter all accumulated data into your e-file. As your primary care physician, I have access to that file. Whenever something gets added, I am either the one who entered it or the first one to find out.”

“O-oh…”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He placed his hands on your bare knees, his gaze respectfully glued to your eyes rather than your exposed sex right before him. “There is nothing you need to be ashamed of around me.”

“Zayne, I…just…I’ve been having trouble, uh…well…getting there lately.” Oh god, this was so embarrassing. Where was this pit to swallow you whole that everyone always talked about? You felt like you were in some cheap porn movie…

“Getting there?” He sounded genuine. Great. You had to spell it out.

“I’ve been having trouble…reaching orgasm when I…you know.”

Zayne remained quiet for a moment. Not a single emotion escaped his neutral expression—you did not, however, miss the slight twitching of his jaw.

“Prolonged stress can impact the ability to relax enough for acceptance, for lack of a better word, of sexual stimulation,” he began matter-of-factly, “and ever since you finished training at the Hunter’s Academy, your stress levels have almost constantly been alarmingly high.”

“How do you know that?”

“Heart rate variability analysis and regular hormonal testing during your monthly check-ups.”

“Ah…But…a-are you sure it’s just that? I’ve…I’ve tried everything. I even bought…” A vibrator. You stopped yourself and bit your lower lip.

“If you are worried about any physical causes, I can take a look. But, your Protocore Syndrome aside, you are healthy. It is highly unlikely you are affected by Anorgasmia or similar orgasmic dysfunctions that I have missed to diagnose. Have you always struggled? Or have you been able to bring yourself to climax before?”

You didn’t need to see yourself in the mirror to know you were as red as a tomato at this point. “I…no, this did start a while after I passed my Hunter’s exam…”

Zayne nodded. “There you have it. But if you want to be sure, I can go through a couple of tests with you.”

“T-tests?”

Another nod. “To make sure there are no physical restrictions to your ability to feel pleasure.”

Your lips parted. You…didn’t know you’d needed to hear the word pleasure out of Zayne’s mouth. But even so…this annoying little problem had been on your mind for weeks. What if there was something wrong with you? Something new that neither Zayne nor you had yet discovered?

“Then…then let’s do the tests. I want to be sure it’s nothing serious. How… How will you be doing that?”

“The best way would be through direct stimulation of the erogenous zones. We’ll work from there.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Sit back on the chair for me.”

You obliged and watched him mutely. Zayne applied some of the lube he’d used earlier to his thumb and moved back between your legs. You spread them wider hesitantly. With your heart in your mouth, you bit down hard on your lower lip when he pressed his thumb against your clit and began to caress it with slow and deliberate circular motions, his fingers cupping your pubic mound.

A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop yourself.

“You are responding right away. That is a good sign.”

Fuck…it…it did feel good. So good. Too good. So much better than when it was your fingers playing with your pussy. Perhaps it wasn’t the stress after all. Perhaps it was the fact that you were longing. For him. Perhaps your thirst could not be quenched unless it was…with him?

But…no! You couldn’t possibly…exploit him like that…he was…genuinely caring and…wanted…to make sure that…fuck…

Zayne applied a bit more pressure.

To make sure that…you were okay…he…he…

There was no way to hold back a moan when he used his other hand to slide two fingers inside of you. He curled them just right, quickly finding what he was looking for. And as he started stimulating your g-spot, you realised that it indeed wasn’t the lube that made you wet, receptive and responsive.

Zayne looked up, his lips slightly parted. Surprise reflected in his hazel green eyes—almost as if he caught himself…enjoying your reactions. Could…could that be?

He kept going nonetheless but his gaze now remained fixed on you, watching you intently.

“Z-Zayne…” You knew what you wanted to tell him. You knew what was going to happen. He knew that too, it seemed.

“It’s alright. Let go.”

“I…oh…oh God…Zayne…” You couldn’t have disobeyed the doctor’s orders even if you had wanted to. You came undone around his fingers, your tight walls clenching around him rhythmically as your orgasm washed over you. You arched your back, bucking your hips to meet his attentive touches. Zayne did not let up. He kept his hands on you to help you ride out every last wave of pleasure he’d bestowed on you.

Your eyes locked with his once you came down from your high, embarrassment crawling up your spine. But Zayne…he was breathing heavily. His eyes were glazed as if…had…had this aroused him too? You didn’t dare look down for evidence.

“There. Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I…I am. I…”

“It’s the stress that is keeping you from relaxing without a doubt. I…I believe I might have to describe more of this treatment to you just to be sure.” Wait, what? “Especially given how the excessive release of endorphins during an orgasm can help reduce stress levels.” He chuckled. He actually chuckled!

“I…you…we…” It was no use. You were at a loss for words.

“You were my last patient for today,” Zayne announced. “Let me drive you home.”

You nodded, still dazed from what had just happened. Your cheeks were flushed, your ears hot. Between your legs, there was a waterfall you’d have to bring back under control before you put your panties back on.

This evening was far from over. Because if there was one thing you knew despite both your twisted emotions and feelings for one another, this bi-annual gynaecological check-up had just moved your relationship to a new level.

[basicallyrybread]

Y’all wanna hear about how a doctor almost killed me (twice) in the same appointment? Great well buckle up motherfuckers because the level of idiocy here is mind blowing.

So my PCP (primary care provider for those who think its something else 👀) is part of a bigger team of PCPs that we’ll call The Clinic. The Clinic only operates between the hours of 8am and 4pm and when you live 40 minutes away, can’t drive, and are practically on deaths door with strep throat, going in isnt exactly an option.

Good news! The Clinic has Another Clinic that operates after hours that your family can drive you to! Let’s book an appointment there instead.

Now let’s stir in some context to this shitshow: The Clinic and Another Clinic are a) not staffed by the same PCPs and b) HAVE SHARED PATIENT INFORMATION SO FILES ARE ALWAYS UP TO DATE (that last ones important!) They know what medications I’m currently taking and my one medication allergy which is the entire class of -cillin (penicillin, amoxicillin etc) antibiotics. I am anaphylactic to them. They will kill me.

So I go to Another Clinic and a resident sits me down and asks whats going on. I tell her that I have strep and need antibiotics. She checks my diagnosis and goes to get my prescription. Girl had my file open on her computer with a BIG RED FLASHING ALERT AT THE TOP regarding my allergy. She comes back into the room. Cue the following:

Resident: I have your prescription for penicillin here and you are good to go!

Me: No, I’m allergic. I will die.

Resident: Oh? It doesn’t say anything on your chart about that, are you sure?

Me: *points out the BRIGHT RED FLASHING ALERT*

Resident *sheepishly*: oh okay, let me go get you something else and talk to my supervisor.

Now, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt, it was almost 8pm, it was pitch black out and all either of us wanted to do was go home. HOWEVER. She returns with a new antibiotic that I hadn’t heard of before: Clarithromycin. Great, now lets go to the pharmacy.

I show up at my usual pharmacy, the pharmacist there knows everything about me and my medical history and he’s amazing. I love him.

Never in my life have I ever seen a pharmacist so scared and angry at the same time while frantically calling Another Clinic before they close.

See, I’m taking a medication for my POTS called Lancora (or ivabradine if you want the generic name), and I was unaware of this until my pharmacist told me but Lancora + Clarithromycin = Severe Brachicardia and/or Death. It is literally on the manufacturer list of ABSOLUTELY DO NOT TAKE THESE MEDS TOGETHER YOU WILL DIE shit. That’s when I knew that the resident nor her supervisor hadn’t even glanced at my file.

Pharmacist wasn’t able to get a hold of the clinic so he gave me two options. Forget the antibiotics and risk potential complications with scarlet fever OR stop taking my Lancora cold turkey for 2 weeks while I take my antibiotics (which would definitely result in debilitating POTS symptoms). I chose option b, missed several days of work and school, and like the fool I am, never reported the incident.

Let this be a lesson in several things kiddos:

1. If you are unsure about anything ask for a supervising doctor or a second opinion

2. Doctors don’t know shit about medications. Keep your pharmacist on speed dial.

3. Protect your self when it comes to contraindications. Ask for a copy of the manufacturer’s label if it isn’t something that’s typically given to you.

4. And finally: the system is fucked. All of it. Burn it to the ground :)

[cafeinthemoon]

Founders with s/o who’s struggling with depression and alcoholism 💔

This request  was made by @akimurachang (@nakaakiko​) and since i’ve already had some ideas for a scenario/situation like this, I decided to write it. Thank you for requesting this and for trusting my capacity to write it! Also, I hope you can forgive me for taking this long to do so. I will try not take so long to make requests from now on. Please people be patient with me, I'm trying my best XD

So here we have the Founders finding out their s/o has problems with alcohol and depression because of the proof that’s all over the place (broken bottles, etc.). How would they react to this? What would they do to take care of their loved one?

I’ll be using the same scenario for all of them, which is they going to their s/o’s house to find out why they didn’t attend to a mission about which they talked the day before and then finding s/o lying unconscious in the living room with a dripping bottle around.

Fandom: Naruto | Founders

Symbols: 💗 | ◻ | ▶▶

Warning (s): mentions to depression, emotional exhaustion/trauma and alcohol, minor injury

Hashirama 🌱

The thing with Hashirama is not that he doesn’t know that something’s not right; instead, his first reaction is to refuse to believe in his eyes

But all the signs are there for anyone to see

The missions you didn’t attend to and never justified your absence

That time when you casually met in the village and he noticed you were talking too much with a strange alteration in your tone

Somehow a mess in your house that persists and seems to increase in the weekends

A broken bottle you tossed into trash and that small cut in your hand you got while taking out the glass

Your physical tiredness (a result from your habit of using alcohol to replace food) and a decrease in your reflexes and other skills as a ninja

Hashirama is not stupid; he sees all of this

But is hard to accept that you, his strong, brave and lovely s/o could be a victim of such thing

That day when you don’t apply for the mission about which he talked to you the day before, he goes to your house to see if you’re okay and what he sees there is heartbreaking

You’re lying unconscious on your living room’s couch, and a bottle is dropped, its content dripping out and staining the floor

He takes the bottle out of the way and looks closer at you. You have an exhausted expression, your lips had some remaining drops of alcohol on them and your cheeks were wet with what he noticed to be tears

He takes the bottle to the kitchen and tries to wake you up

You wake up dizzy, with a some sort of numbness in your muscles and a terrible headache

When you recognize Hashirama by your side, you suddenly remember the mission

But before you can speak, he explains that he already sent other person in your place and that for now you have to take care of yourself

He tells you to stay where you are, because he’s going to run you a bath

When everything is ready, he takes you to the bathroom and helps you to take off your clothes and to find the shower

After the bath, he takes you to your room and leads you to bed, saying he’s going to prepare some food (it’s obvious that you’ve spent the night before and the morning drinking and haven’t eat anything)

He brings the meal to your room and doesn’t let you leave until the bowl is empty

Then he tells you to take some rest. He leaves eft a wood clone with you in case you need something while he cleans the house

With all the minor inconveniences fixed, you have time to focus on the primary stuff

Hashirama has a way to make people be honest while talking to him, and this works on you too

You tell him your story with alcohol since the start, when you drank for the first time and when it became a real problem. You reveal to him what you feel before, during and after drinking, your fears, your insecurities, your reasons and your failed attempts to stop

He is a good listener, has empathy as no other, and most important, he’s never judgmental

He assures you he would never be disgusted or look down on you because of your problem, which was your biggest fear and your reason to not speak out before

Hashirama is not he most practical person around, so he has a hard time creating measures to help you

In this matter, you show to be more prepared than him: you suggest not leaving anything that reminds you of alcohol at your sight, not going to places where they offer alcohol and things like this

He uses your suggestions to create codes you can share in case you need immediate help

You reschedule your free time to keep your mind occupied with the things you’re good at: if you feel useful, necessary to yourself and the village, your self love and self respect will grow, and with them you will to overcome your problem

He also says that if you feel comfortable, you two can seek for advise with someone who’s been through the same as you

It is true that after some weeks of improvement, there are some relapses and you are caught drinking again

And maybe Hashirama doesn’t show necessary firmness when this happens

But he compensates this with his ability to transmit the strength of his will to other people

Hashirama doesn’t let you give up on yourself, because he knows that this is the key to your cure and he wants you to be aware of that too

When you are with him, you feel like everything is possible and that even someone with your problems can be saved

Tobirama 🌊

Now, with Tobirama things seem to happen faster

Because he's not blind to the signs

So he doesn't take long to take some action

He has been observing your behavior for a while now, but never interfered because he was hoping that you would reach out to him sooner or later

But this doesn't happen, and when one day you don't show up to the mission you were assigned to just the day before, he decides to stop waiting and to do something

The first thing Tobirama feels about the situation is frustration

He thinks you weren’t being honest with him for all this time, and that you don't really trust him

In his mind, it means that to you he's not important enough for you to share your stuff with him

Tobirama doesn't say anything. He just goes to your house to confront you for your reckless attitude

Yeah, you might have some trouble in your personal life, but neglecting your obligations? That's too much

However, none of his previous observations have prepared him for what he finds there

Lying on the couch, unconscious, visibly exhausted and with a bottle on the floor right under your hand, you were nothing like the person he knew

He starts to question himself: did he take too long to do something to help you? Was it his fault?

Being the practical person he was, Tobirama doesn’t waste time with deliberations and approaches you

He’s not a medical ninja, but he doesn’t have to be to understand what happened there: you emptied that bottle, passed out and didn’t wake up because you probably started drinking late at night

He also notices that the skin of your face is a bit clingy: tears rolled down on it hours before

Tobirama’s first measure is to create Shadow Clones to work on your house while he is going to take care of you

While there’s a clone organizing the living room and other two or three verifying the conditions of the other rooms, he uses his sensory abilities to examine your chakra flow

It’s not that good

He uses some basic healing technique to bring you back to consciousness

When you wake up and understand what’s going on, you try to explain and apologize all at once, but he tells you to stay quiet

You do it, and he runs you a bath. But you can do it by yourself thanks to the jutsu he used on you, he goes to your room and comes back bringing you clean clothes

While you dress up and such, he goes to the kitchen to prepare some food. The Shadow Clone he sent there tells him about broken bottles he found on the trash. He dismisses the Clone and decides to talk to you later about this

You come to the kitchen and he puts the bowl in front of you

All the time you stay there in silence. It’s hard, after what happened, to have Tobirama’s eyes on you and not feel judged

You’re in the middle of the meal when you stop eating and break in tears

You hide your face in your hands, so you don’t see him approaching; you only notice it when you feel his hand on your hair

He invites you to a calm place where you can talk without distractions

You accept the invitation and he uses his Hiraishin to take you to a river’s shore

At first, you don't know what to say and he doesn't know what to say to encourage you. But you have known Tobirama for a while now, so you have no choice but to accept that the first words won’t come from him

You don’t try to justify yourself or explain your feelings right at first. You just tell him the sequence of events

He listens to you without interrupting, nodding to confirm he’s following everything. It’s always strange when you have to open your heart to him, cause these emotional matters are not his specialty

Still, he tries his best

He doesn’t sugarcoat anything: he clearly tells you how disappointed he is, not just because you failed with your appointment but mainly because you didn’t reach out to him

He says he wants you to trust his capacity of doing anything on his reach to help you

He then explains that he’s going to be by your side for anything you need, but you’ll need to fight for yourself if you want it to work

You explain that periods of depression and relapses are common for people in your situation, and that it’s not going to be easy for him to deal with you when they happen: your previous partners gave up on you during the process

You are going to need his strength, love and patience for the whole journey

Tobirama looks in your eyes and states that you are not just his loved one; you are part of the village, part of his family, and he won’t give up on his family without trying to save them with everything he got

Madara 🔥

Well, don’t get me wrong in this one

Madara loves you and cares about you as much as the other Grandpas

But unlike them, he has a hard time to understand that even the person he loves most has their flaws and makes mistakes

With all your qualities, abilities, and after all you have been through, how could you fall for such thing?

Yes, Tobirama also finds it difficult to understand that you have a problem that you can’t fix all by yourself, but with Madara the whole question is about strength

It was never a secret to you that weakness disgust him

nd to him, your problem with alcohol is exactly a weakness

So how can he find himself by the side of someone like you? Impossible

But the evidences are all around: the appointments you’ve missed, the alterations in your behavior during weekends, the mess in your house, the headaches and tiredness on Mondays

There was one time when he noticed a cut on your hand and immediately knew it wasn’t caused by a kunai or any other weapon

When he questioned you, you lied. He knew it, but he didn’t dig deeper

However, now its impossible to close his eyes to what’s going on

You didn’t show up to the mission you had together, so he goes after you to find out what happened

When Madara finds you lying asleep on the couch, with a bottle that must have slipped from your hand and now stains the floor with the last drops of its content, he’s confused

He really doesn’t know what to think nor how to feel about the scene

He checks your vital signs to understand the seriousness of your situation

You’ve been unconscious for a couple of hours, but your heartbeats are regular; your levels of chakra seem to be normal as well, but your reflexes will be impaired for a while and you won’t be able to stand up and walk without help

When you finally wake up, you find Madara sitting next to you. It’s clear that he has been there for a long time

You’re experiencing a terrible headache and it seems that your body doesn’t respond to your brains commands

He approaches and helps you to sit on the couch

You can’t look in his eyes. You’re so ashamed that he found you in such state that you’re unable to say anything

He helps you to leave the room and says he’s going to take care of you

You’re aware of the Clone he sent to other parts of the house under the excuse of “checking if everything is in order”, but you don’t argue; you just nod and let him manage things

The first thing he does is to take you to the bathroom. You watch while he warms up the water and brings clean clothes for you

You’re so tired that you don’t even try to protest when he helps you during your bath

It’s also when he notices more marks all over your body that remind him of that one you had on your hand

When the Clone disappears, he receives his memories and finds out that you’ve tossed some broken bottles on the trash. It’s when he finally realizes that this shattered glass are the origin of your injuries

He finds some medicine for the recent (and more serious) ones and lets you resting on your bed, only returning to bring you warm food

You think of refusing it, but it smells so good and you’re so hungry you’d just eat everything in five minutes if he wasn’t there to stop you

He then brings some medicine for the headache

When everything seems to be fixed, Madara tells you to take some rest, explaining that he will return later, and you agree in silence

Days after that, your first attempt to discuss the problem is a total failure

Like, it’s clear that Madara is concerned: the idea of seeing the person he loves following a destructive path like this is intolerable

But he’s divided between this feeling and his vision of strength and weakness, which influences his manners and his talking

So every time he says “you have a weakness”, it sounds like “you are weak”

You’re already in a fragile state, both mentally and physically; you sense you won’t take this for so long

You try to explain your side to him, but he doesn’t seem to understand

Finally you become angry enough to tell him to just leave instead of wasting his precious time with a burden like you

There’s something in Madara’s silence that seems to tell that he regrets the way he talked to you, but no apology comes from his mouth and he in fact leaves

The days pass and your situation only gets worse: while you drown in your alcohol addiction, he suffers for both of you but doesn’t take action anyway

When your absence is noticed by other ninjas (in the village itself and in missions), Madara puts his pride aside and goes after you

He comes at the last moment

You’re on a pitiful and also dangerous state

He immediately takes you to the village’s hospital and asks Hashirama to examine you, which he does, not without scolding his friend for his attitude

This time, Madara is too desperate to argue

He spends day ad night by your side, and makes it clear how much he loves you

When you wake up again and find him there, you read the regret in his eyes

He tries to say something, but you dismiss his attempt, making a sign for him to approach

You say that you current situation is like the one a war would put you through, and that you can’t get out of it by yourself:

“I need the greatest warrior beside me to win”

He kisses your forehead and holds you as tight as your conditions let him

“No. I need the greatest warrior beside me. Forever”

[finalgirlkateausten]

Sick Day

So this drabble goes with a larger au, which is currently an in-progress multichap that will be up... at some point. Huge huge thank yous to @freetobegrace and @andreasbayden for the inspiration for this! We've all kinda been talking about a Ted Lasso au where Rebecca and Rupert had a kid, and I've finally gotten around to writing it. Could not be more honored to brainstorm with these lovely people ❤

Summary: Rebecca gets a call from her son's school that she needs to pick him up because he's gotten sick... but technically, it's Rupert's week for custody.

Monday morning sees Rebecca in an utterly foul mood that even biscuits from Ted hardly help. It’s storming outside, a torrential downpour, she has three more days until she sees her son again, and coming off a semi-relaxing weekend to a mountain of contract re-negotiations and relegation costs is enough to make anyone miserable.

The biscuits and her lunch plans with Higgins are the only bright spots in a day she already knows will be filled with paper cuts and ink stains, so she’s even slightly relieved when her phone rings. Talking to another person is almost always better than staring at a screen or signing documents until her hand is cramping. She picks up her cell phone quickly, frowning when she sees the contact name for James’ school scrolling across the screen.

“This is Rebecca Welton,” she answers.

”Ms. Welton, this is Lucy, the school nurse at Richmond Primary School, are you available to pick James up today?” the young woman sounds unreasonably chipper, and there’s the sound of a keyboard clacking, even through the phone. ”He threw up in class and is running a fairly high fever.”

“Yes, of course,” she answers immediately, swallowing bile in her throat as she realizes what she has to say. “But, ah… technically James should go home with his father. He has custody this week.”

”James specifically asked that we call you instead,” the nurse responds. ”He says he’s felt bad all day, but his dad told him he needed to go to school anyway.”

Rebecca mulls that over. James isn’t normally one for exaggeration, but Rupert won’t be at all forgiving just because she got the call and their son asked for her. “Would it be too much trouble for me to speak to him?”

”Not at all.” There’s shuffling on the other end, and then James speaks, sounding tired and puny even over the phone.

”Are you going to come pick me up, Mum? I don’t feel good.”

“I’m very sorry about that,” she says, her heart aching at the thought of not being there for her son. “But James, you technically are supposed to go home with your dad.”

”Dad doesn’t even believe I’m sick,” the nine-year-old protests. ”I told him I didn’t feel good this morning, and he said I should ‘buck up and walk it off’. Even Bex-who-I-don’t-like--” he always says her name like that, all together, as if the descriptor is a part of it-- ”Put her hand on my forehead and said I felt warm. But he just ignored her!”

At that, Rebecca’s last flake of charitability toward her ex-husband vanishes, washed down the storm sewer with the rain. “Alright, I’ll be right there. You don’t have to go back to your dad’s this week, not if he can’t even take care of you when you’re sick. I’m sorry you had to go to school feeling bad, James. I love you.”

”Thanks, Mum. I love you too.”

Not half an hour later, she’s in the back of the Rolls Royce with James dozing in her lap. She clicks on Higgins’ contact in her phone-- she really needs to change that name-- and waits as it rings.

”Hello? Why are you calling me from your office?”

“I’m not in my office,” she says, keeping her voice low and absentmindedly stroking James’ hair. His forehead is damp with sweat. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel our lunch plans; James got sick at school so I’m taking him home. I assume he’ll sleep and I’ll be able to answer emails and whatnot as usual.”

”Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Higgins says. She can practically hear his hesitation through the phone.

“I’d like you to call Rupert for me.”

All she gets for that is a sigh.

“He’s going to be spitting mad if he finds out at school pickup, you’d best call now,” she continues. “Quite frankly, I don’t care if I’m in violation of the custody agreement, James told him he was sick this morning-- and he was-- and Rupert blatantly ignored him.”

”I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” Higgins says, ”But I’m a director of football operations, Rebecca, not a divorce lawyer.”

“And you’re quite good at your job,” she says. “I’m just asking you to do me a favor, Leslie. Please and thank you.”

”Alright,” he agrees, ”but if he tries to press the issue, I’m telling him to call you.”

Higgins must offer some sort of suitable explanation, because Rebecca has a good hour of peace and quiet before her phone rings. She tucks James into bed, singing softly and rubbing his back until he fully drifts off. Once she’s positioned a trash can by the side of his bed, she heads to the kitchen, ignoring her work emails in favor of starting up a pot of chicken soup.

Even though the work she does ultimately have to do is the same as what she’d be doing at the club, it feels nicer at home, sitting in the large beanbag in the corner of her son’s room. Her back is going to complain to her about this later, but it’s worth it, to be able to watch over him. Rebecca occasionally unfolds herself from her cross-legged position to check on him closer, pressing her hand or her lips to his forehead. The fever doesn’t seem better, but she’s made an appointment with the doctor already, so that’s good.

When her phone rings, she heaves a sigh and steps from the room, crossing her fingers that the conversation stays civil, though she knows that’s unlikely.

“This is Rebecca Welton…”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Iron 7 (Peter Parker x F!Oc)

Words: 2, 323

Masterlist

Chapter 6

Post-credits scene (Iron man 1) / Chapter 8

2010

"It's unfair that I can't go," Lily complains, walking into the living room.

"You should get used to it," Jess says without taking her eyes off the television where they’re playing the replay of the grand opening of Stark Expo. "No one else can find out who your father is.”

Lily leans against the back of the chair where Jessica is.

“It’s unfair. My dad hasn't even said anything about going, lots of kids have fun there,” She sighs.

The screen highlights the dance of some women in small red shorts and tops, referring to the armor. And to Tony with a huge smile showing his great achievement.

"Even he has more fun than me,” She grimaces. "Although, I think he’s more cocky now than before…”

“Big word,” says Jess. "Stop complaining. Maybe one day, I can take you.”

"Seriously?"

"If your father lets us visit him for free, of course,” She turns to see her and smiles. “Now finish your homework.”

“Fine."

Lily returns to the table with all the homework that her math teacher left her after her private class. She expected to go to school like a normal girl, but Pepper and Tony insisted on hiring several teachers to visit her during the week. "We can't risk it," They said, much less when reporters and practically the whole world follows Tony in every move since he broke the news about the Iron Man.

She can’t complain, some subjects are fun and she advances very fast, if she were in a school, she wouldn't be able to do it. In addition to the private lessons she has some with Happy, she appreciates that too. It's fun to see Happy struggling to learn the subjects with her.

"Hey, Lily. You have to see this,” Jess says from the living room. Lily returns and this time sits on the couch to see her father in the Senate or the military committee. Obviously, television doesn't show everything, but enough to see that her father just makes fun of everyone, especially that businessman Justin Hammer.

"Very cocky.”

Both girls nod.

***

"And I also learned about worldwar-two, but Professor Edwards said it would take us longer to do our research because there is so much information," Lily informs walking next to Pepper.

"I'm glad you're enjoying your classes, honey," She says with a smile, but then sneezes.

"Are you sure you shouldn't be resting?" The worried girl asks.

"I'm fine, don’t worry.”

They both go down the stairs until they reach Tony's workshop. Pepper puts the combination and they enter. Lily, seeing Tony for the first time in a few weeks, runs towards him. Tony gets up from the chair and receives her with a hug, bending down to her height.

"You should also greet me this way, Pepper," Tony teases. Pepper rolls her eyes, but she can't help a smile at the cute image.

"Why didn't you wake me up when you arrived?" Lily asks as they part. She crosses her arms.

"I could hear your snoring outside,” He jokes. “No nightmares?"

"Didn’t have any this week.”

“Good, and enough waiting for me on the couch, last time you complained about back pain. Those complaints are not allowed until you’re fifty years old... or thirty, it depends,” He nods, ruffling the girl's hair making her laugh.

The moment ends when Pepper remembers why she was upset with Tony. Now they both walk around the workshop discussing things. Lily listens to them as she sits in the chair where Tony was. She frowns when she sees a brown box, but Pepper's comment distracts her.

"The Expo is a gigantic waste of time.”

“There’s nothing more important to me than the Expo,” answers Tony. “It’s my primary point of concern.”

"Hey!" Lily complains. “What about me? I’m your daughter! And you haven't taken me to Stark Expo yet, so unfair…” She says with a pout.

"What?" Tony says from the other side. “I'm sorry, kid. Grown ups talking here!" He answers by pretending not to have heard her.

Lily makes a face.

"The Expo is your ego gone crazy,” follows Pepper.

Lily stopped listening. Photos of boring cars on Tony's computers are more interesting than Pepper scolding her father. She only lifts her head when they return to the entrance. Tony trades a painting for an Iron Man painting. Then, suddenly, Tony appoints Pepper CEO of Stark Industries.

"Trying to figure out who a worthy successor would be,” says Tony over a few glasses of champagne, "and then I realized, well since she's only eight, she can't run a company,” He points out to the girl.

"Yet!" She yells from her place.

"It’s you. It's always been you.”

***

"I think I'm ready for that training," says Lily pulling the ropes of the ring in the middle of the room.

"Not yet, Smarty," Happy replies.

"But I'm eight now and I can outrun you.”

"Anyone can outrun Happy, kid," adds Tony.

"So why did you tell me to come if you won't let me train?"

“Watch us and learn.”

Lily makes a face. She’s getting tired of everyone forbidding her so many things.

It doesn't take long for Pepper to walk in asking Tony for a signature. Lily walks over to the white chair near Pepper. She sighs, she's about to complain to her, but the presence of another redhead interrupts her. She had never seen that woman and apparently she also distracts the two men.

"What’s your name, lady?" Tony asks

"Rushman. Natalie Rushman,” She introduces herself.

“Hi," greets Lily. Natalie looks at her with a smile.

"Wait, I thought no one should know about Stark Jr.'s existence,” Tony points out.

“She’s already signed a confidentiality contract. Don’t worry.”

Tony shrugs and invites Natalie into the ring. She obeys. Pepper sits on the couch next to Lily and Tony pulls her aside to sit on the same couch.

"Now she’ll be your assistant?" Lily asks. Pepper nods. “Wow, you used to be Tony's assistant, now you have one. I wish I had one,” She says.

"I want one of those too," says Tony. And with that, they argue again. Lily rolls her eyes, but something else interrupts her thoughts and the discussion.

Apparently Natalie is more than capable and better trained than Happy since she manages to throw him to the floor in one movement. The three of them get up from the couch.

"Happy," Pepper squeals.

Lily goes back up to the edge of the ring and smiles seeing how Happy gets up with difficulty. She raises her head to see Natalie.

"Cool! Can you teach me to do that?"

“Sure."

"Definitely not," Pepper and Nat say at the same time.

"Why not?" Lily frowns and steps out of the ring

The second redhead clears her throat, she puts on her shoes and talks to Tony about some documents. In the end, they finally finish the paperwork for Pepper to become CEO. Natalie leaves. Tony and Pepper start talking about a trip to Monaco.

"What? Are you going to travel again? You just arrived,” The girl complains, drawing their attention.

“It'll only be a couple of days, Lily," replies Pepper.

"That's what you always say.”

“Hey." says Tony. "It's a business trip, kid.”

"That too you always say,” She rolls her eyes. Pepper looks surprised, that's not how she used to act before. "Can I go this time? I can do my homework there.”

“Sorry, but no. Remember that you’re still a ghost." says Tony

She frowns.

"That's not fair. You always leave me here, I can't even go to a park and you don't let me accompany you, you’re hardly home anymore,” She says, raising her voice and causing a certain tingling to appear in her hands.

"Watch your tone, Lily,” says Tony starting to get annoyed. He looks down at the girl's clenched hands. "Turn that off, now.”

"Just this once, I promise to be good. If you want, I'll stay at the hotel,” She insists with a frustrated sigh. She opens her hands to avoid making a mess.

"I said no, young lady.”

"But-"

"Lily Stark, I said no,” Tony ends with a firm voice.

The little girl clenches her teeth and runs out of the place before they can see her cry from anger.

"Huh, it brought out your moody side too, Tony," Happy says from across the room.

Stark sighs.

"I'll talk to her when we get back.”

Pepper feels guilty. Maybe they’d been more absent since Tony announced the identity of Iron Man and now it’ll be worse because of the new job. She wants to follow her, but she knows better to leave her alone for a moment.

***

"Hey, you broke your record," Jess says, handing a bottle to the girl, who gasps. She takes it and sits on the chair next to the girl.

It's been a couple of hours since Lily started running through the gated area of the Stark property.

"Can we do something else?" Lily asks.

Jess takes out the notebook where the itinerary is written.

"I suppose we can rest for a while," Jess replies, taking off her sunglasses.

"You didn't do anything, what are you going to rest from?" Lily says with a smile.

"I can't be in the sun that long, I want to be tanned, not burned.”

"If you say so.”

After the break, Lily continued with her task, finishing earlier that she is used to. The rest of the day, they both decided to just relax with some masks that Jess had brought.

"Why do they smell funny?" Lily asks feeling the texture of her mask.

"That's coconut, you'll get used to it,” answers Jess. “Afterwards we’ll paint our nails, we’ll watch romantic movies while we eat ice cream. It’ll be fun.”

"Why are we doing this?"

"It's what some girls are used to doing when they are alone or with their friends.”

Lily nods. "Why?"

Jess laughs. At this point she’s already used to the onslaught of questions that she sometimes receives.

“It's fun, it's also girls quality time, you know, they talk about handsome people, the boys they like from school. It’s a distraction that sometimes we need, even from parents.”

Lily frowns.

"Do you need a distraction from your parents?"

“Okay,” Jess gets comfortable on the bed to sit in front of the girl. “Many times, especially when you’re a teenager, you argue with your parents and it’s normal. That’s why it’s good to have friends with whom you can vent. Trust me, if I didn't have my friends, my relationship with my mother would be a disaster. But it's not a bad thing,” She clarifies when she sees Lily's grimace. "Parents also need to get away from their children a bit.”

"Is that why Tony travels a lot?"

"I don’t think so. He’s an important businessman and he just wants to take care of you, that's why you should stay here.”

"It's not fair,” She crosses her arms.

“Yes, you should get used to that too. When you’re older it’ll be a little easier.”

Lily's head fills with more questions.

“Jess."

"Yeah?"

“We're friends?”

"Of course.”

"Can I vent to you about my dad?" Jess laughs.

"Tell me everything.”

They both talk about many things and do girlish stuff. Lily learns a few things as Jess tells her about her life as a student and everything she does when she’s not taking care of her. At one point, she wishes she had that life, but, even if she could go to normal school, she couldn't have all of that, at least not like Jess.

Night comes, Jess sleeps in the guest room leaving Lily in her room. The great Stark mansion is completely silent, the nightmares that had not tormented the girl for several months return and this time, they’re worse.

She’s on the floor of an empty room, the four walls are completely white. She doesn't see anyone else, but she knows someone is watching her. She wants to ask for help, she wants to scream, but no matter how much she opens her mouth, nothing comes out of her. Her torso and arms are trapped with a straitjacket. She tries to get out of it, but everything is useless.

The tickling starts in her hands, but this time she’s not in control and quickly spreads throughout her body. She wants to burn the straitjacket, but in the dream it’s not possible.

"Lily!"

The girl suddenly wakes up sitting on the mattress. She looks everywhere, but her mind is still in that empty room. She falls off her bed, but keeps moving until a wall stops her.

“Lily, it's okay! Quiet! You have to breathe…” Jess says in the dark.

“Don't!" screams Lily. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. "Please don't hurt me!” She sobs. “Please, please…”

"Lily, it's me!” The girl approaches the girl and touches her arm, but she removes it immediately when she feels the high temperature. Jess screams in fright, causing Lily to jump in place of her. "J.A.R.V.I.S, turn on the lights!” She orders and the AI obeys.

Lily blinks trying to focus her vision, when it happens, what she sees is another fear: Jess is in front of her looking at the blisters on her hand.

She had done that. Lily burned Jess.

Memories of when this happened with her mother come to her mind, causing her panic to escalate.

She doesn't hesitate twice to leave the room, ignoring Jessica's calls. She runs through the house, down the stairs and to the workshop. J.A.R.V.I.S lets her in and sets the code so that no one else could enter. Finally, Lily goes to one of Tony's cars and hides underneath it. She bends her legs and hugs them to her chest. The only thing that can be heard in the workshop are the uncontrollable sobs of the girl.

Taglist

If your username is crossed out it’s because Tumblr didn’t let me tag you, sorry. If you want to be removed from the taglist, you can tell us, we also make mistakes, lol

@stardusthigh​   @silenthappyplace​ @yourbonesareinmybody​​  @aylauwuuniverse @tyb1​ @skittles-skittles​ @hufflepuffzutara​​   @poetryislife0715 @21bruhs​​  

@just-here-to-escape-from-reality​​

@heavenlymistakes @lauramacch​  @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

[gillian-greenwood]

My Episode 7 Predictions!

Mother of God! How have these weeks passed by so fast?! I've decided to share what I think will be answered tomorrow night and some of the fates of our beloved characters! The series has gotten off to an even bigger success than it's predecessor and EVERYONE'S talking about it! Without further ado, let's see what I'm predicting!

Who's H/fourth man (or woman) and will we find out?

The question that's on the nation's minds. That has been boggling us since 2017... My personal prediction still stands as CC Philip Osborne, however... I think he's purely sitting on his arse and pulling the strings, whilst others are doing his dirty work. Those people are Patricia Carmichael: who in all honesty I'm manifesting isn't actually bent but is so career driven and a bit of a lick arse that she's just taking orders and not questioning anything, plus she doesn't think much of Ted either... I have joked that she's been shagging Osborne on the side which would be quite funny. I also believe Buckells has been Osborne's true scape goat for years. Someone as laid-back and unpassionate as Buckells is easily manipulated - I mean how the hell has he become a super? As Steve rightfully says, he couldn't order a piss up in a brewery. Seeing the connections go well back into the early noughties whilst Buckells was part of an oasis tribute band, it's an easy conclusion to make. Lastly I will mention Thurwell, now I think Thurwell may have been more involved on his own doing anyway but I think he'd still been pretty busy doing things on behalf of Osborne up until his alleged death in sunny Spain (Belfast but shh). I know a lot of people still think Buckells, some reckon pas-agg Pat is the top woman... and a few still think our beloved Kate is 'H'.

Now the other part of my point is actually finding out... I think us as viewers will certainly know the identity of this mysterious individual. But, I think we'll find out in the very last few seconds and poor AC12 won't be any the wiser which will open up the foundations for a possible series 7. I think a lot of things will be answered for us viewers but not everything for the characters. I know that if they had a series 7 there would be an other primary focus but I just think it would be clever. Just like how we found out as viewers at the end of series 1 that Dot was a wrong'un.

Is Thurwell really dead?

I'm still very amazed by the whole induction of Jimmy Nesbitt as a series of photos. I know we were supposed to have a secretive guest actor appearance and I believe it was Robert Carlyle's name floating about which would have been insane! But that moment we saw Jimmy, I yelled at the screen. So, this answers the question of seeing a character that had only been mentioned previously - which has been very much hiding in plain sight. Even with a rewatch, I had forgotten about Thurwell and therefore hadn't even considered him. But, I did mention the list from series 3 which did loosely tie in. Anyway, when we learned that Thurwell and his Mrs were now dead and clearly had been for a while - it was cleverly shot so we didn't see who it was, only the Spanish Police's word. You know, I think if we were to get a series 7, Thurwell could appear and he's in fact not dead. It's very rare you get a very well known actor in for something so small without it leading to bigger things. Although, they got Andi Osho, a very much loved comedian in purely for archival photos and videos... I do feel that Thurwell could have easily been on the other end of the fake MSN, and doing Osborne's dirty work - especially with the Spanish connection. In a BTS photo we have seen a clue to a piece of paperwork regarding a time share (Spain mentioned) in front of Kate which will likely have a connection to Thurwell and Spain. I think he's possibly still alive but we'll see...

Joanne Davidson

Kelly Macdonald has been welcomed with a very warm reception. Wow, her connection to Tommy Hunter (albeit disturbing, homozygous DNA... nasty business) was not something I ever expected although I guessed very much so when we learned of the DNA match with a nominal. Would I define her as bent? I mean in layman's terms, yes she is. However each guest star has had a very complicated relationship with the definition - all have done dodgy things and usually for good reason... But I do sympathise with her because of her background, born into trouble, it was very hard to escape - even if her mum took her to Scotland for a life away from it all. From the very start of her career she was doing the OCG's bidding and it transpires she was in the police on Tommy's orders - so very much another caddy. I do feel Jo had always wanted to be a good person and do right and in some ways she did - however she's in too deep. Next I'll mention her relationship with Kate and it's something I'd never have predicted. A lot of suggestive and sapphic behaviour from the off. Now, I do think Jo cares deeply for Kate and has developed strong feelings - and I think Kate deep down has also but I don't think anything will happen sadly. And that's more for the fact that they had run out of track before they could even get going as so much has happened. Kate's gonna save Jo when her transport gets ambushed, that's a given... but I don't think we'll see anything happen that we want to happen. I hope I'm very wrong and we get something but with the hour we've got I don't think it'll be the case. And as for her fate? I think she'll survive. Guest leads usually die, eventually... with the exception of Roz who's serving time with one arm in Brentiss. Giving how unfortunate her life has been from her conception, I think it'll do her justice to escape with her life. Witness protection? Hmm perhaps... Although I think she's done enough dodgy stuff to warrant a prison stretch. Will she be instrumental in revealing who the fourth dot is? Well yeah actually, I think she grew up thinking Thurwell was her dad... and of course having connections to both Osborne and Buckells. Jo joined the force just before the turn of the millennium so would have been a copper when the Lawrence Christopher case occurred in 2003. Even though not directly working with them, I'm sure she knew what was going on and would have come across Osborne and Buckells at that time. I have a strong inkling that she knows exactly who she's been talking to and has been under their wing since the start. If she dies I will be gutted.

Kate

Where are we going with Kate? Well she's just killed Ryan (lawfully) and has gotten away with it. But Carmichael isn't thick... and nor is Steve and Ted. They all know but I think that'll be that for now. For ages I thought she was gonna D word but I think she's gonna be alright now. I hope that somehow she gets back into anti-corruption permanently because that's where she's best suited. I'm shocked that she hasn't had a glass box spectacular - my predictions for her to be accused of being bent and all that were way off the mark... and not a single mention of the two dying declarations... With only an hour tomorrow and so much to deal with, I guess that's not going to be mentioned. And Kate ain't gonna be sanctioned either. But, there's always opportunity with a series 7... She'll definitely be back in AC12, interviewing... I can't see all the BTS photos being Jed Herrings. But we'll see tomorrow!

Steve

Poor Steve eh? He's not had an easy time of it. Addicted to painkillers as I rightfully predicted, unable to trust his gaffer, torn on a transfer and a up and down friendship with his 'mate'. Oh and the car, actually let's not talk about the Mazda... Anyhow I believe that Steve will talk about his back and recent struggles with meds after a lot of emails from occupational health. Will he get pulled off the job at the last second because he didn't book an appointment... yeah I think that might happen and Kate takes his place or something. But there is a counsellor or something credited so I'm pretty certain on that. Will he lose his long overdue promotion? It's possible! I don't think the test was going to come back as a fail but more of a cause for concern - just that the levels of codeine etc in his system was higher than it should and it would be best advised to talk to someone. We haven't seen much pill taking going on since the drugs test so has Steve been going cold turkey? Or have they just veered away from that part of the story? In all fairness he's appeared fine with his back since the Windermere convoy - he ran across an industrial estate... I mean. I hope Steve gets a glimmer of hope and happiness because he rightfully deserves it. Ever since the start he's had his fair sharing of aggro and he deserves a break. I do think however he may be partly responsible for nailing the final nails into Ted's coffin - especially after he discovered the 50K up Merseyside and the truth from Lee Banks. I think he could be potentially happy with Steph, it would be nice for something to happen with them but we'll see. Steve needs a big hug.

Ted

This is going to pain me saying it. But, I don't think Ted is going to make it to the end. His retirement is inevitable. I can see the argument of the retirement being rescinded if they unmask the fourth dot etc and solve stuff but realistically, he's past retirement age. He's so focused on getting to the end of this marathon that I don't think he will see it through and know who it is - because he'll... yeah I don't need to say it. How? I've been saying his heart is gonna pack in. He's going to be in deep trouble over that 50k because Steve and Kate know the truth. But why would the likes of Carmichael find out... Well we've seen a clue of 'definate' on some paperwork - I reckon Ted by coincidence also makes this spelling mistake often as it is one of the most commonly misspelt words and therefore will be in the 'H' running again - he wont be 'H' as I reckon Osborne makes the same mistake... He alleges he misspelt it cos he studied the texts carefully but I think he spelt it how he usually would. They'll all go down the wrong path and accuse him which will lead to his ultimate downfall. Another little teaser is Steve appearing to listen to Ted's 2019 glass box spectacular however notably Carmichael says AC12 interview and not AC3... so mixing two different interviews to tease us? Maybe Ted might feel he has no choice but to sacrifice his career for the truth. However it all gets too much. Lies cost lives... I can't see Ted going on from beyond here and Ted was always supposed to be a minor character until he was very well received by the audience and he was made a main character. Realistically, his story is told and he's at his endgame. I hope he survives, by god I do... He's one of the most loved fictional characters at present. But I have a really bad feeling and I'm worried! It seems a total Jed thing to do for Ted to meet his end without ever finding the truth... seeing that's what his heart has been set on for about four years... I'm sorry to even be going there but it's what I think will happen. And I want to be wrong.

Miscellaneous Predictions

I want to round this all off with other little points. Carmichael won't be bent, maybe still involved with anti-corruption, you love to hate her, there's so much more they could do with her character. I don't think Steph's dodgy at all, she's just a widow whose been helped out by Ted in an unlawful way. I think her and Steve would be well suited. I hope Chloe will get to the end and continue on in anti-corruption, she's got a lot of potential. If Osborne isn't sussed, I reckon he'll still be CC. DCC Wise isn't bent either, just getting on with her job. But if Osborne does get caught and I'm wrong, there will be a lot of chaos for both him and Wise. Farida gets out of jail and starts afresh. Buckells I reckon will get out but won't be apart of the police force anymore. Lomax isn't bent, just a regular cop trying to get the work done. The rest of Jackie's remains will be found under the workshop floor, maybe with someone else? God knows who. Or maybe with some evidence that helps lead AC12 on the right track. Steve will still be an officer and Kate will be back where she belongs. There's probably more but my head hurts.

Will there be a series 7?

Yes.

Thank you all for reading my jumbled thoughts all packed into a text post. I'm nervous but excited for tomorrow night's finale. Let's see if I get anything right... probably not...

[yikesharringrove]

Umm, I accidentally deleted the request for this while moving it to my inbox, so here it is. (Also this is like, four months old).

I’m gonna rec this fic which is super well written and adorable

Steve is ftm. (Personally, I’m not a big fan of mpreg unless it’s like, biologically plausible 🤷‍♀️)

Under the cut bc it’s long and there’s a little bit of smut.

-

Billy’s hands were shaking as he raced out of the house.

He had a bag slung over one shoulder, had already put two others in the Camaro.

His dad had gone in hard today. Three days after Billy graduated high school and he’s already calling him a deadbeat, a fuck up. Telling him to get a job like he hasn’t worked every summer and most weekends since he was fourteen.

He lit a cigarette as he slid into the driver’s seat.

He was gonna make one stop on the way outta town.

-

Steve had given Billy a spare key months ago, after he was tired of always having to go downstairs and answer the door.

He liked it when Billy just made his way up, started kissing whatever skin was already exposed and asking Steve if he’s wet.

Tonight, Steve thought, was no different.

Billy was kissing up his calf, mouthing along his knee, a few fingers creeping up the leg of his shorts.

Billy was the best sex he’s ever had. Not a lot of gay guys will go down on Steve, some won’t even fuck him. He had been real hesitant to tell Billy, start having regular sex with his best friend, because he didn’t think Billy would want anything to do with him when he knew what he was bringing to the table.

But Billy had told him not to be an idiot, ate him out, and pounded him into the mattress.

And Steve was in love.

So he let Billy fuck him whenever he pleased, because at least Billy was giving him the time of day, at least he was getting some.

He opened his eyes, smiling lazily down at Billy.

“‘Time is it?”

“Almost two.” Billy was curling two fingers into his waistband, slowly pulling down his shorts, like maybe Steve wouldn’t notice.

Steve lifted his hips, and Billy whipped off his shorts, diving right in for his pussy.

He ate him out with the same fervor he did everything. Making all these gross slurping sounds, sucking on Steve’s cock and shoving his tongue inside him.

He made Steve cum twice on his face, as was the norm, before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and getting right to business.

He fucked Steve like he was mad at him.

He often did. And Steve knew he wasn’t mad at him, moreso mad at the other him, the him that’s ruined Billy’s life since before he was even born.

Steve wasn’t as dumb as everyone thought. Knew that when Billy snuck into his bedroom at odd hours of the night and absolutely ravished him, something bad had happened with his dad.

So when Billy finally rolled off of him, and lit a cigarette, Steve knew better than to ask.

“I’m leaving.” Steve just hummed at him. Billy sometimes stuck around after sex.

But Billy didn’t move.

“Like, leaving Hawkins.” Steve just hummed again. Billy talked a lot about leaving Hawkins. Steve had always secretly dreamed of running away with him. 

Billy just studied his face in the dark, stubbing out his cigarette and rolling over to hols Steve close to his chest.

Steve closed his eyes, let himself pretend.

Pretend that Billy loved him back.

-

He woke up to rustling, Billy getting dressed to leave as weak sunlight began to trickle through his curtains.

“Oh shit, didn’t mean to wake you.”

He smiled lazily at Billy.

“You comin’ back over tonight?” Billy looked stiff.

“Probably not. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah. Later.” Billy was sitting on the end of his bed, had just finished tying on his boots.

And then he moved, quick as a flash to kiss Steve softly before he was thundering down the stairs.

Steve was just falling asleep as the Camaro roared away.

-

Billy had skipped town that night.

And Steve never forgave himself.

-

Steve was leaning over the counter, his head pressed into the cool top of it.

“I threw up all last week, and I just feel like shit.” He had been whining to Robin practically all morning at Family Video.

“Do you think you have the flu?”

“I don’t know, Rob. I mean, my stomach hurts a lot, but like, it feels like I’m just having awful cramps.”

“Are you on your period?”

“Nah. Don’t get it very often with the hormones anymore.”

“Normally I’d suggest pregnancy, but I know you’re in a bit of a dry spell.” He rolled slightly to look darkly at her. “Still no word of Billy?”

“No. The one person in Hawkins that isn’t too transphobic to fuck me, and he skips town.” Steve sighed. “I should’ve known, too. He was being super weird that night.”

“Whatever. When you and I skip town, we’ll have the time of our damn lives, and get you laid.” He laughed softly.

“I’m just gonna go to the doctor this weekend. Get a full physical.”

“Let me know the verdict at and I can come over with some medicine, if you need.”

“Thanks, Rob.”

-

Steve was lying back on the stiff exam table.

He had already given blood and urine samples, and was just waiting for the doctor to tell him what the fuck was wrong with him.

Sometimes his hormones had to be adjusted, and caused all sorts of weird shit to go haywire in his body.

Dr. Mauch was a kind woman, always been pleasant and accepting of Steve, even referred him to an endocrinologist for his hormones.

She didn’t smile when she came in, though. Just sat down at her stool.

“I’m going to go out a limb here and say that this is not news you’ll be happy about hearing.”

Steve felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“You’re pregnant.”

He blinked.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. But you most definitely are.”

“But, but I’m on blockers, and testosterone, and I haven’t had sex in months.”

“I’d say about six months.” His mouth was dry. Billy had left in late May. About six months ago. “And being on hormones is not an effective method of birth control. Some men still get pregnant after taking them.”

“I’m not, I don’t look pregnant.”

“Some people don’t really show their pregnancy. My sister was rail thin the entire time, had a perfectly healthy baby girl. It’s all about your body type.”

“So, so you’re telling me, that I’m six months fucking pregnant.”

“Yes.” He slumped back onto the exam table.

“What are, what are my options?”

“Well, unfortunately, not many. Abortions are only legal in Indiana up to 20 weeks, or five months, or unless the person pregnant is facing severely compromised physical health. There’s always adoption.”

“No one’s gonna want a baby from a trans guy.” She pursed her lips.

“I think that’s a harsh statement. Many people are desperate for babies.” Steve just stared at her.

“So, if I have to take it to term, should I like, go off my hormones.” His stomach gave a lurch at the idea.

“I would recommend it. There’s very little research one pregnancy in transgender individuals. We really don’t know how hormones can affect the baby.” Steve sighed. “I would say, get in with an OB/GYN. I can recommend a few I know and send them your medical history. Your name change and hormone therapy is part of all of it, so hopefully they will be kind.” Steve sighed.

“Thank you, Doc. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry for the disappointing news.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” She gave him a copy of their appointment notes, a list of OB/GYNs for him to research, and a hug before she left.

He drove home slowly, feeling exhausted, like the weight of the fucking world was on his shoulders.

He got home to find Robin sitting on his front porch, her nose buried in a book, a pizza box sitting next to her.

She looked up at him, and he burst into tears.

-

“Look, Max, if he contacts you in any way, tell him to call Steve, okay? It’s important.” Robin was yammering to Max on the phone, trying to get a way to contact Billy.

Steve was laying on the couch, had his shirt rucked up over his stomach, pushing it out and sucking it in, trying to see any change in his body.

“Just give him Steve’s phone number and tell him he’s an asshole.” She hung up the phone, perching on the armrest at Steve’s feet.

“She know where he is?”

“No. She said he ran off and hasn’t contacted her at all. She didn’t even know he was leaving.” She slid onto the couch, let Steve put his feet on her lap. “You think he’d come back? If he knew?”

“I don’t know. I’m not really asking him to. I mean, I don’t think I’m in a place to take care of it, but I kinda just want him to know it exists. Like, I think he deserves that.”

“I get it.” Her voice was soft. She watched Steve stare at his tummy some more. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is just, dysphoria out the wazoo.” Steve huffed a laugh.

“I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. I think ‘cause I’m not showing. I don’t look pregnant, so how can I be pregnant, you know?” He sighed tugging down his shirt. “Going to the doctor’s gonna be a damn nightmare, though. They’re too used to dealing with women. It’s gonna suck.”

-

Steve was right.

Even though his primary care doctor had sent his medical history, he still got deadnamed and misgendered at reception, and intake, and by the nurse, and the doctor when she finally arrived.

They gave him a pelvic exam, getting him in for a sonogram as well.

And as the doctor was moving the imagining wand around on his tummy, and he heard the heartbeat for the first time, something caved inside of him.

A baby. He was having a baby.

And part of him, a really fucking big part of him, was starting to love it.

-

His parents were home for four days.

And Steve had waited for the final day of their homesteading to tell them.

He’s glad he did.

Diner was as quiet as always, and Steve had nearly choked on the words.

“I’m pregnant.”

His father had gotten out his wallet, asked how much an abortion costs.

“I’m too far along for that. Nowhere will legally do it.”

His mother had just stared at him. His father asked how far along he was.

“Close to seven months. I didn’t even know until like, a week and a half ago.”

And his father had stood up, and the yelling began.

“I can’t believe you. You kick up this huge fuss, make us change your name, and the way we refer to you, go around telling everyone your a boy, and you get pregnant like the little slut you are.”

And he had told Steve to back his shit, told him he was not welcome in my house anymore.

And Steve didn’t have a lot of shit he cared about, the clothes he liked fit in one duffel bag.

His mother didn’t look at him as he left.

-

He had called Mrs. Henderson from a payphone.

Nobody else could give him a ride anymore, and he wasn’t expecting her to drop everything and drive him somewhere, but she had freaked out at the words kicked out and for getting pregnant, and told him to stay where he is.

She was there with a tight hug and a travel mug of honey lemon tea within twenty minutes.

Steve had asked for a ride to a youth shelter he had read about, but she shook her head, said you’re coming to live with me and Dusty and Steve had cried in her passenger seat, and again in her guest bedroom.

-

Steve groaned.

He had finally begun showing, just a little bit out a mound near his belly button.

But he felt like shit, had taken to spending most days in bed.

He bat away whoever was shaking him.

“Go away.”

“Steve, it’s Max.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“I found Billy, you asshole. I have his address.” Steve sat bolt up straight.

“You, where is he?”

“Boston. He went east, for some reason. But he sent me a letter, out of the blue, and I told him you had something important to say, but he said he doesn’t have a phone.” She handed him a slip of paper.

“Thanks, Max.” He gave her a weak smile, found her chewing her lip.

“Is he the father? The other father, I mean.” He had told the party about the pregnancy, figured rumors would begin spreading soon enough.

“Yeah. He’s the other father.”

“He wouldn’t have ditched you. If he’d known.”

“I know.”

“He’s not like that.”

“I know.” She stared him down. He kept his face open, honest.

“Are you gonna write to him?”

“Yeah. I just, I don’t really know what to say.”

“Just keep it simple. Tell him he’s got a kid. Let him choose what he wants.”

-

It took Steve almost a month to draft a letter.

He didn’t really know what to say.

He settled on the bare minimum.

I’m pregnant. And it is most definitely, without a doubt, yours. I’m not expecting anything from you. I don’t want money, or for you to move back to Hawkins. I just thought you deserve to know about your kid.

He read the letter about three times, one hand pressed delicately to his little bump.

I’ve decided to keep the baby. I’m going to raise them. You’re welcome to meet them, and be in their life if you choose, but if not, I’m not going to hold it against you.

He sealed the envelope, leaving it on his nightstand.

And then his contractions started.

He didn’t get around to sending it.

-

Claudia was the only person in the room with him when he gave birth.

She held his hand the whole time, coached him through his breathing.

And when his son was born, she pet his head, told Steve how beautiful he is.

-

Steve was slumped face down on the bed.

He had just gotten Oliver down, calmed him down enough for him to finally sleep.

He rolled over, scrubbing a hand down his face.

He had barely slept all week. But Oliver had smiled at him for the first time yesterday.

He turned to lay on his side, zeroing in on the envelope on his nightstand.

He sat up quickly.

Fuck. He needed to send that letter.

He didn’t bother thinking about it, just wrapped his sweater tighter around himself, and hurried to the mailbox. He put the little flag up, leaving the letter in the little inner clasp.

He looked back down at Oliver, running one finger over his fuzzy little head.

-

He didn’t hear from Billy for three weeks.

He knew the letter wouldn’t take more than a few days to get to him, and it would take just as long for Billy to get him back.

He had pushed Billy out of his mind, figured if he wanted to be part of Oliver’s life, he had given him enough of a chance to be.

He put on a thick sweatshirt, had taken to wearing baggy tops to hide his tits, too sore, too big to bind anymore. Oliver squealed at him when he leaned against the side of his crib, reaching out for him.

He strapped him into his stroller to take him on a walk, stopped dead in the doorway.

Billy fucking Hargrove was in the driveway, standing next to the Camaro like he had just gotten out of it.

His eyes were wide, trailing from Steve, to Oliver, and back again.

“Is that my kid?” Billy’s hair was shorter than when he had left.

“Oliver. His name is Oliver.” Billy stepped around the car.

“Can I, can I see him?” Steve brought the stroller down the driveway, taking Oliver out of the stroller.

Billy held him like he was made of gold.

“He’s beautiful.”

“I think he looks a lot like you.” Billy smiled at him.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here, I was waiting for my semester to end.”

“It’s okay. I just, you know. Thought you deserved to know about him.” Billy stared at Oliver, his smile going soft as Oliver squealed, tugging on Billy���s hair.

“I want to be in his life. If that’s okay?”

“Of course it is. He’s your son too.” Billy brushed his thumb down Oliver’s nose.

“Thank you, Steve. And I’m, I’m sorry about how I left. I was going to-” he cut himself off, looking back at Oliver. “I was gonna ask you to come with me. Chickened out last minute.”

Steve’s heart was banging against his rips.

“I would’ve gone with you. Used to dream about running away with you.” Oliver started getting fussy, making disgruntled little huffs. Billy passed him back to Steve. “I was in love with you. You know that?”

“Yeah, I knew that. Was to chicken shit to do anything about it.” Billy was still looking at Oliver, the way he nestled into Steve’s neck. “He loves you a lot.”

“It’s been the two of us for awhile.”

“You’re a good dad. Always kinda figured you would be, though.” Billy took another breath. “You know, you could’ve told me sooner. I would’ve come back.”

“I don’t want you to, to change you life. Don’t quit school, or something.”

“Steve, I got a kid. I want to change my life for him. For, for you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“No never did. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing my family.” Steve hesitated.

“Would you like to come in? Have some breakfast? You could give Oliver his bottle, If you wanted.” Billy’s eyes lit up.

“I’d like that.”

[anxiouslyfred]

Time Increases and Falls

Summary: Virgil doesn’t want to meet his soulmate after the things his brother has said since finding his. He doesn’t try to avoid meeting them though, not even by making choices to deliberately increase the countdown to meeting on his wrist.

/\/\

Most people didn't check the timers on their wrists very often. Society thought that chasing the timers obviously was immoral, a sign of impatience and desperation.

Arguing against that, and giving Roman a chance to actually try and find his soulmate had originally started Remus checking his timer regularly, but now it had become a game. How would making decisions in his life change the time it would take to meet his soulmate? Also how many reasons could Remus imagine for unexpected jumps up in the time they had until meeting?

The actual time wasn't really motivating for Remus. He'd meet his soulmate eventually and the timer changed too often for him to try and predict when. It was fun occasionally to make a decision based purely over which had the shortest time to meeting his soulmate, but then again, it was also fun sometimes to change decisions over which would cause the most chaos.

He was certain that his soulmate did pay attention to it though, and often made sure to chose the option that increased how long they'd take to meet. Remus had an entire list of excuses for the commiserating glances people gave if they happened to see his timer jump up, which given timers were on the back of the wrist, rarely covered by sleeves, was quite often.

Virgil didn't want a soulmate. He'd witnessed Patton and Logan meeting and how they now treated each other and something about it made his skin crawl. They'd dote on each other and insist on constantly being together through any possibly difficult situation, to comfort, protect or help. His parents though it was sweet but Virgil just thought it sounded exhausting, like they'd decided to abandon being individual people after meeting despite how different they were.

No he didn't want to lose his identity or spend every waking moment glued to the side just because a timer reached zero when they met. He liked his own space, thank you very much. That didn't mean he was trying to avoid their meeting though, just that he didn't mind each time he learnt later the timer had once again had days added to it.

Honestly his anxiety did seem to be a primary cause of delays to their meeting and that was pretty much the only good thing Virgil could say about the condition. Someone would comment asking if he was excited about meeting them when the counter got to be within a few days, and the surge of fears about what that could mean for his identity would make him back out of some event or other. Even if the event was nowhere close to the time they should be meeting dodging it would increase the time.

Of course there were also times when he'd deliberately try to keep all his appointments, to concerned about Patton and Logan attempting another intervention that he would push himself to keep to the choices he'd made. The timer would still increase, and Virgil couldn't find any explanation for it other than he would have gotten distracted by something along the way that changed their chances of meeting.

His timer had once again gotten to a matter of days before he was meant to meet this soulmate and Virgil was wondering when it would change again, double checking whenever he was alone to see if he'd inadvertently messed up their future meeting again.

His life still needed to be lived though so Virgil was doing a weeks grocery shop and trying to ignore the nosey glances everyone shot to each others wrists. They should be able to cope without knowing if he had a soulmate yet or not, but everyone did it automatically now.

“Oh, are you going to be doing something special for your meeting?” The cashier asked, making no attempt to hide her staring as she scanned all the items.

Normally Virgil would brush comments like that off, except there was something big happening on the day the timer currently indicated. He had a big presentation coming up that would be in front of far too many important people for his career to progress. On top of that stress, the shop had been busier than usual and Patton had called up halfway round to ask if he could get something from right at the front of the store for them. Pushing through the people and making sure he had everything he needed had Virgil clinging onto calm by the thinnest final thread and that question was breaking point.

He'd shaken his head violently, paying by card as quickly as he could before running out of the store, bags in hand, with no glance spared for the timer on his wrist that he'd just felt change. Experience said it would just had extended anyway.

Virgil managed to get the bags shoved into his car before leaning against it, trying to remember any grounding exercise he could to calm down. Nothing was working and he started to turn and walk somewhere, anywhere, just get the excess energy out of his limbs enough that he could drive.

He made it two steps before finding himself on the ground under a complete stranger, a shopping cart rolling further through the car park as they watched. “Dude, what the bloody hell were you doing? Trying to go cart racing with a trolley or something?” Virgil glared up, but froze as the usually unnoticeable movement of his timer vanished.

The man must have felt the same thing as he scrambled back, pulling Virgil back to his feet quickly too. “No but that sounds like an awesome idea if you want to try it. I bet there's something in there I could use to rig up an engine for a trolley too. I'm Remus and you're my soulmate.”

“Virgil and if you're doing crazy shit like that I'm not getting involved.” There was none of the need Patton and Logan had claimed came from being soulmates to stick with Remus and Virgil couldn't be more relieved about that. It still wouldn't convince him to put his life at risk for the maniac.

“Setting boundaries straight off. How long do I have to know you before I can push them?” Remus didn't seem phased by the harsh tone, just nodding along and absently watching his shopping cart as it finally stopped against a curb.

The question was one nobody had asked before, and probably nobody else would ever think of asking, but it made Virgil relax. “At least a few months. If you pull the have to be around each other 24/7 thing my brother pulls with his soulmate make it a few years.”

“I get you, everyone needs their space to do insane stunts on their owns sometimes. Can I have your number to at least stay in touch?” Remus pulled his phone out, pouting as he saw a car swerve to avoid hitting the cart. “Come on! You should've hit it! Charged the supermarket for lack of places to return carts to or something!”

Taking the phone, Virgil snickered at the yell. “Couldn't they just turn that back on you? I mean your shopping is in there.”

“And I'm stood all the way over here where we fell ages ago. Either they shouldn't make their car parks slope enough for the trolley to roll that far or they should give them like auto breaks for when the carts roll to fast.” Remus nodded as though that was entirely logical. “Also so I can test just how good auto breaks would make trolleys at sending me flying. Ro always holds back when trying to make a cart stop.”

“Okay, I'll add that to the million questions this meeting has given me. I've already text myself from your phone so we've got each others number, but I've got frozen stuff to get home before it's dangerous to refreeze it again. And you better be getting that cart back because I am not helping to replace anything you lose in your idiocy.” Virgil decided, finding that somewhere in talking to Remus he'd calmed down properly again.

Remus was chasing through the car park as soon as he'd taken his phone back, promising to call later over his shoulder.

Virgil had never wanted a soulmate, but he could be happy with whatever kind of adventure just talking to Remus was going to be.

[dibs4ever]

Grieving

Nathan Gordon smiled at the little red headed bundle in his arms. So tiny, and new. Only a month old and so much had already happened to the poor child she had already gone through so much. Her mentally unstable mother running off in the night with her 4 year old brother.

Leaving her father alone with the newborn and a paper signing her rights over. Why keep one but not the other?

Nathan couldn’t understand it

Then again Barbara Keen never was exactly right in the mind

“Dad thanks again for offering to do childcare.” The voice of Jim Gordon spoke

Nathan looked up at his son and shook his head “Think nothing of it. It’ll give me something to do with my days now that I’m retired” he smiled bringing his infant granddaughter to his shoulder

Jim smiled “Well there is absolutely nobody else in the world I’d trust Barbara with. You raised my sister and I on your own which wasn’t exactly common in the 70s and 80s “

Nathan chuckled “Your mother was involved.”

Jim looked at his father over the brim of his glasses. Okay so maybe he did raise the kids on his own for the most part

Little back story on Nathan Peter Gordon

After getting an honorary discharge from the Vietnam war due to an injured leg he did what all the war men did and found a wife to marry and settle down with. It was 1962 he was 25 years old when he married Francis.

She wasn’t like his friends wives, she wasn’t sweet or doting. She didn’t ask him how is day was

She was a bitter women who wouldn’t stand for anyone who didn’t agree with her.

If he was being honest with himself the only reason he married her was because that’s what was expected of him. Women weren’t where his attraction laid. But being a gay man in the 1960s was just asking for a lifetime of criticism. Besides Francis could give him what he desired to be most. A father. Which happened in 1963 when his his daughter Hannah was born and then 3 years later when James was born

He absolutely loved being a father but always feared leaving them with Francis when he left forgot work as an attorney . She was cruel to them.

In 1970 after years of verbal abuse and accusations from Francis he finally confessed to the woman that he was gay.

They promptly divorced, Francis shocked the judge when she requested only to have the children every other weekend. Allowing Nathan to be the primary caregiver.

Something he thanked it was probably the only nice thing she ever did for him. Although he was certain she didn’t want them anyways. It wasn’t easy being a single dad but he wouldn’t trade it for anything, he supported and loved his children. Praising their accomplishments. Hugging them when they were downs and giving advice as they grew up under his wings.

Fast forward it’s 1996 and he’s holding his 30 year old sons newborn daughter.

Nathan takes care of his granddaughter every day and some nights for the next 5 years as his son worked his way up in the GCPD.

Then in 2001 she starts kindergarten and he only has her after school and some nights. It’s a bittersweet moment for both Nathan and Barbara. The two of them were each other’s best friends

Nathan waited outside the school with the other parents and caregivers. The school doors opening

“Grandpa!” The five year old shouted running across the school courtyard and into his arms with a flying leap.

She snuggled into his chest “I missed you.”

He chuckled lightly “So did I, come on little one, let's go get ice cream. It's Friday after all.” He smiled

4 years later he’s on his way to pick her up from school again. He hadn’t been feeling right . He has a coughing fit, then looks down at the kleenex...blood. Something wasn't right

Stuffing the napkin product in his pocket he decided to put on a brave face and go pick the light of his life Barbara Gordon up from school. She’d help him relax till his Doctors appointment next week

Nine year old Barbara opens the back car door and climbs in

“Hi grandpa.” She smiles leaning over the seat to plant a kiss on his cheek “Did you make any snacks at home? I’m starving.”

Nathan smiled, he almost always prepared a small snack for his growing grandauter to have when she returned from school. But today he had felt so ill and afraid due to coughing up blood that he completely.forgotten be had planned to make a her-her favorite snack of homemade nacho.

”I thought we’d get ice cream” be spoke looking back at the girl in the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the driveway

She laughed lightly he freckles doing a little dance when her nose scrunched up. He adored her freckles “Grandpa it’s only Tuesday. We only get ice cream on Friday’s.”

He shrugged “Who says we gotta play by the rules.” He winked

Barbara smiled at him

The following year Nathan Gordon passes away from cancer. He’s surrounded by his daughter Hannah, her husband and their children along with his son and Barbara.

Barbara Gordon sat in the office chair of her fathers office. Since her grandfathers recent passing her dad had yet to make arrangements for a new childcare provider.

Not that she needed a babysitter. She wasn’t a baby. She was 10. Besides the past couple months her grandpa had been so weak she basically took care of herself anyways

Her dad had been gone for a while. Where to? she didn’t know. He never told her anything anyways.

She sighed and continued drawing random doodles on the piece of copy paper she’d been using for the past 30 minutes to occupy her time.

The door opened. Her dad stepping in. But he wasn’t alone . A boy with dark hair, shorter than her but probably around her age stood at his side. This she knew wasn’t common. Very rarely did her father handle children personally like this at work. The boy was looking down sadly.

“Why don’t you take a seat son” her father waved to the pair of seats that sat infront of his desk. The boy nodded then moved and took a seat in one of the chairs

“Barbara this is Richard. He’s 10 like you. Why don’t you keep him company while I make some phone calls in the hall.” Her dad informed

She nodded and watched him walk out, the office door closing behind him

After a moment of Richard not looking up, Barbara moved and switched seats to the available one beside him

“I’m Barbara, how are you Richard?” She asked

He shrugged

“Not much of a talker Huh? It’s okay I’ll talk. I’ve been bored out of my mind all night. My dad thinks I need a babysitter but I don’t. I mean I’ve literally been sitting in this office by myself all night anyways so tell me what the difference would be if I was sitting at my home all night alone?”

Silence

“I’ll tell ya, nothing. I finished all my homework within 30 minutes of being here. My grandpa had me on a strict routine. If dad was ever around when I got home from school the past 5 years he’d know I always finish my school work promptly. What grade are you in Richard?”

“Can you call me Dick?” He spoke softly

Barbara grinned “He speaks....uhh sure I guess. Like I was saying my grandpa. He knew, he always said I should skip a grade. Grandpa knew more about me then my dad.”

Dick looked up at her “I’m in 4th grade. You talk a lot” a small smile played on the boys lips. Although his blue eyes were still filled with saddness

Barbara flashed him a smile back “Sorry my grandpa always said I talked a lot when I was nervous and you being so quiet kinda brought it out.”

Dick nodded “You and your grandpa are close? You’ve already talked about him 3 times in the past 10 minutes”

Barbara inhaled a breath at the mention “We were he Umm. He died last month.”

Dick looked down again “Oh”

She nodded “First time someone close to me has ever died. Have ugh have you ever lost someone. Maybe you could help me, give me some advice.”

Dick was silent “I’ve lost someone. But I don’t have advice.”

Barbara tilted her head “Who did you loose?”

He took a deep breath “My parents.” He squinted his eyes

Her eyes widened she couldn’t imagine loosing her father. Loosing her grandfather was tearing her up inside as it was “When?” She wondered. They were only 10. How young was he when he became an orphan?

“Tonight-they were murdered. I saw it.” He choked

Barbara’s jaw dropped. That explained why he was here “Dick, I’m so sorry!”

Tears began to flow slowly from the boys eyes

Not knowing what to do, the young girl moved her hand grabbing the fellow boys hand and lacing their fingers. To her relief the boy squeezed hers tighter. Letting her know that the small movement was just the right amount of comfort he needed at that moment. Together the two adolescents sat holding hands. Tears slowly streaming down their faces. Finding comfort in their newfound friendship and grieving their recently lost loved ones

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 144: Hermione's Helping Hand

The room was a very dangerous landing, each of them got a book to the head no matter where they landed. Frank was on a flaming red comforter on the bed with a dog eared copy, the title so faded he hadn't a hope of recognizing it until he flipped through a few pages, and even then did not follow the Muggle story.* Alice had a heavy tomb smash so hard against her forehead she saw stars, and it was over a copy of some muggle thing to do with the human anatomy a Healer would struggle to follow.

Lily groaned miserably as she removed a book on alchemy from her face, and Potter's glasses had broken where he'd faced planted a window with an interesting view of a Muggle neighborhood and still had a book on the windowsill crack a lens he couldn't even read the title of now.

Peter had to pull himself out from a whole pile of books, on top of which was Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard, and Regulus even found one on teeth he had to dislodge from his own.

Remus landed painfully on a desk, the book losing its place as the bookmark toppled out of sight he felt bad for, and Sirius even found a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages to his distaste for the first time in his life as he pulled it from where it had whacked his ear.

The silver book itself they were all supposed to be here for sat in the middle of the room with the air of innocence. For once.

"As if we haven't been traumatized by enough books already," James sighed as he tapped his glasses to fix them.

"If this room isn't Hermione's, then I'll kiss a centaur," Sirius happily informed the room at large.

"Brilliant deduction there," Lily rolled her eyes, but there was only amusement in her voice. "Did you figure that out before or after this?" She was holding a picture of Hermione in this very room, a still image of her sitting at this very desk with Crookshank's in her lap, the sun just visible on the horizon from the window.

The walls didn't house much decoration, it was simple yet charming to see so much of her personality packed into the comfortably sized room.

"The best part is, I bet this is only a quarter of the ones she owns," James grinned. "She takes most of them with her to school!"

Sirius laughed and Lily found herself smiling in agreement as Lupin tried the door, which mercifully opened. The others scattered about the house, some for the loo, some for the kitchen. Sirius made to do the latter, but lingered in the door jam to watch in fascination as Prongs hesitated, and then turned back to Evans.

There was a reluctance in him he'd seen a few times now, and he had a very good guess why James was suddenly so hesitant to engage with her. He'd been devastated by the news of Sirius' death, arguably more than him even, and it wasn't hard to follow his logic if he had to change something to keep it from happening it would be taking Harry out of the equation via her. He wished his brother wouldn't think like that, but he'd never liked Evans much himself to understand his fascination with her and so wasn't even sure how to urge him back.

When James turned back holding in whatever he'd been about to say though, Lily startled them both by asking, "so, do you know what a dentist is?" The tone was mild, maybe a little mocking, but she was now holding the book Regulus had spat out with a curious smile.

He would have expected James, as usual, to not actually know how to respond to her when she spoke like a normal human being. Instead he hesitated with an odd smile in place and said casually, "not really, but I got the idea. Teeth and such, Muggles need them cared for without a spell."

Prongs hesitated again, some torn expression lingering, before he softly asked as if speaking of her ill coming death, "how come you never took Care of Magical Creatures?"

Sirius snorted fantastically, earning a dirty look from both of them. He raised his hands in surrender and took a step back into the hall, where Remus came up and pulled on him out of sight. James turned back to watching her, still unsure if he should have asked. She'd gotten assurances on their first day from McGonagall, Flitwick, and Slughorn all the creatures came to no harm for their classes to commence. He'd watched her love of animals long after that, she'd taken to cuddling with every cat in the common room and watched the birds deliver post every morning despite receiving none of her own long after other Muggle-borns grew used to it, but that look of awe and longing lingered in her.

Just because he'd given up on the idea of her didn't mean he couldn't still learn more about her, right? It was something he'd wanted to know for years but obviously she'd never have answered before. Maybe if he tried without the flirting he'd get a better result.

And, it worked. She went a little red, but answered casually, "I was trying to prove something, to my parents, to Snape, myself. Taking Arithmancy and Runes, the harder and more difficult classes. I regret it a bit now."

Potter watched her, absolutely fascinated by her little speech it seemed. She kept waiting for that to wear off now that she was actually trying to talk to him on a regular basis, but it didn't seem to be happening.

"You can take it come NEWT year if you want," he told her, that damnable cheerful smile creeping back now as they managed the first casual conversation of their life. "Remus will lend you his notes for the OWL's next week if you want."

She laughed in surprise, then realized he wasn't joking. He really thought she was that smart she could take a class she hadn't been in for two years? "I'll, ah, take that into consideration," she tried to shrug.

He hesitated, seemed to decide he'd pushed her enough, and then finally left. He'd gotten her to laugh, that was more of an accomplishment he'd managed in his life already! He glanced the way two of his friends went, rolled his eyes, and called towards the kitchen, "hey Alice, want to show me how a muggle stove works!"

Lily blanched in fear of him burning the house down and snatched up the actual needed book, not bothering to pretend to herself she was smiling as she followed along and cracked it open, but paused to take in the rest.

The hallway was littered with cheerful hallmark signs such as 'Love, Life, Live,' and several more of Hermione through the years, but Lily kept watching the muggle photos despite the fact that they weren't moving in mild curiosity for several moments before it occurred to her why they seemed a little odd. Hermione was alone in each of them, smiling brightly, but the only one in focus. Not only no friends hanging off her arm in her primary years as she held up spelling awards and science fair projects, but her parents didn't seem in any of them either. One particularly telling one was a candid shot of a very young Hermione sitting in an empty waiting room, reading a book far too big for her lap. Only when she got to the very end of most recent photos hinted at who could have been there all these years, and it was an extremely elder lady, possibly her grandmother or even a nanny, the photo at such an angle it was clearly taken by her as well as she stood shoulder to shoulder with Hermione. The tender look of love in the older woman's eyes only leveled with the weary exhaustion in the folds of her skin. Beneath that was a hand drawn calligraphy plaque with the year and date, but no other sort of explanation except her socially awkward behavior from back at the first book.

The kitchen seemed to double as a study, there were heavy journals on multiple surfaces, Frank was flipping curiously through one that was ear marked with dates, names, and what the appointment was going to be for, another that Regulus was prodding his wand along curiously through every page seemed to house lots of studies and practices on how Hermione's parents could improve their work. She doubted he followed a word, even she probably couldn't.

The chapter title itself was unsurprising, and she went through it still laughing it was all about Harry's first act as Captain sorting out members of his team, indeed with Hermione's help. Wasn't this just a day of surprises.

Potter continued to rank highest of all in that regards. The look on his face when he found out what Hermione did was priceless.

The reason behind it she misunderstood.

"She cheated? On Quidditch! I'd expect this girl to snog Snape before I heard her do something like this!"

"She did set Snape on fire once during a game." Alice happily reminded as she swatted his hand away from the hot surface, again. He seemed to keep forgetting despite the red light and heat waves coming up from the innocent black circle. "Guess her bar goes out the window during sports," she finished with a giggle.

His flummoxed expression still seemed at war if he should be impressed or agitated at this, while Regulus was snickering relentlessly for the show as well as he said, "I thought it was brilliant, as if I want to sit around hearing about that McLaggen's temper for the games, he'll ruin what little fun we've been getting out of these."

His eyes tracked curiously as he seemed to realize his brother wasn't in here to give his opinion, but seemed distracted enough when Peter spoke, "think of it this way, you or Padfoot would have done it to some arse in the hallway if he was really saying half that shite. Does the location matter that much?"

"I mean, yes," he pouted, but if anything he looked more confused. "Quidditch shouldn't be trifled with," he finished with a hint of defiance, but eventually sighed and turned back to turning the stove on and off with the odd switch and all the numbers while she finished.

Remus let his fingers brush against Sirius' and subtly pulled his fingers before letting go. Sirius needed no further prompting before following him out of the room into what must be Hermione's parents room. Remus didn't care as he locked the door and then hugged Sirius.

He laughed in delight, immediately returning it as he said quietly into his neck, "I'm getting whiplash from you."

"I just wanted to make sure you know I'm grateful," Remus told him as he pulled back, having to remind himself not to let his hands linger. "For not beating Frank's face into a pulp, back in the apothecary," he elaborated.

The fact that Sirius never held his mood swings against him or even ever accused him of being moody because of the full moon made him wish he could snog his face off right about now. Merlin, James had barely been involved and he'd called him on being an emotional ass!

"Oh," Sirius' face did not settle into a promising expression, barely concealed anger still there, but he made such a valiant effort to push it back away Remus had to fight back the urge to kiss him again. "Right, you're welcome. If he had done it on purpose though, I can't say I'd have been able to stop myself." Moony and Prongs had made a valid point, better Longbottom occasionally forget the dangers than continue being a racist arse, but his point still stood there was a middle ground that wouldn't put Remus in pain! The Marauders all knew it, couldn't he?!

Remus really couldn't resist and let his hand brush along his cheek and settle down on his neck as he gazed into his eyes. Sirius hummed as always at the physical affection. Remus could have hugged him back in the apothecary and not been an arse about this too! This really would just have to be enough for him, he could never ask for better friends. He reluctantly let his hand drop back away with one more whispered thanks.

Sirius looked hurt though, to Remus' confusion. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" He denied, he really hadn't thought Sirius would realize he was starting to back off yet, as much else as he was dealing with.

"Remus, you've barely looked at me since the polyjuice prank," Sirius finally called his crap. "So if you're not mad at me, would you please say so?"

"I'm not," Remus instantly promised. Merlin if he was mad at Sirius for every stupid prank he'd never not be enraged at this one. "I'm, mad at myself." He finally reluctantly admitted.

Sirius' face clouded with concern. Even on top of dealing with James, Peter, and Regulus at once Padfoot hadn't once tried to cope a field on him for some fun away from them while in this room, and a traitorous bubble of hope still lingered in Remus' chest this could mean more to Sirius. They were just friends with benefits, he instantly reminded himself. Friends! Of course he cares, you know he does.

"Anything I can do to help?" Sirius was even the one to reach for his hand, their fingers naturally intertwining.

"It's, Harry," he finally gave a half truth, which was still a truth that the book provided. He couldn't believe he'd only been back in Prongs's kids life once so far this year with Sirius out of the picture. "Not even writing to him, I'm just, this future- I don't want to stop-" He stopped himself quickly before something stupid came out. 'Being there for you,' probably sounded way too intimate to Padfoot. Maybe if he'd actually been around Sirius during that awful Ministry fight he would have come back out of it and none of this would be thrown in their face so repeatedly!

What kind of heartless monster couldn't do the bare minimum to look after one of his best friends kids anyways? And he was complaining Sirius wasn't ready for more, he clearly wasn't capable of it either.

Sirius had such a beautiful smile, and one he so rarely showed anyone. A smirk, his teasing grin were all anyone but the Marauders ever got to see, and Remus drank his fill in now as Padfoot squeezed his fingers while mimicking as well, tracing his cheek before letting his hand rest on his neck as they naturally mirrored each other. Remus wouldn't dream of denying he instantly felt warm and assured as he leaned into the touch even before Sirius told, "this future's a mess Moony. Don't kick yourself about this poor kids life we have no control over. We'll find a way to fix this."

He spoke with such assurance it's like they should have heard the very words Evans was reading change to match. Remus was convinced Sirius could hypnotize the moon to never be full again in that moment as he leaned in and kissed him.

It was just sweet, and gentle. There was no randiness in either of them, just a silent promise as Remus leaned back that no matter what, his words would be true.

HPHPHPHP

*Let me know what you think Hermione's favorite book is. I personally always thought it was Sherlock Holmes.

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

you mentioned something a little while back about trauma anniversaries? would you be comfortable explaining what it means and what its about?

Sure thing. 

So.. trauma anniversaries are complicated, and vary from person to person, but the general idea is that when one experiences a traumatic event (or events, plural, centered around a specific time period), the brain/body stores that information and (as with other PTSD reactions) sometimes has an uncontrollable and unpredictable response to it. 

“Many trauma survivors experience challenging “anniversary reactions,”  which are defined as ‘unique set[s] of unsettling feelings, thoughts or memories that occur on the anniversary of a significant experience.’ When a survivor finds themselves in the midst of a trauma anniversary, they often are forced to re-live feelings from the traumatic event, causing symptoms like increased anxiety, depression, trouble sleeping, loss of appetite, nightmares, and irritable outbursts.”

Our bodies hold on to trauma in an effort to protect us, but sometimes those signals get mixed and bad feelings get tied to a time period, which is not particularly useful in most cases. 

This time of year makes me a bit wonky in general, with the changing of the seasons and the temperature drop, but October is also an anniversary for an event that changed my life and dramatically impacted my mental health... and I didn’t realize that it was affecting me until I was already deep in it this go round. 

I hate talking about it like this, because of the age old dichotomy of “it wasn’t that bad” and “it was bad enough and it’s affecting me”. I’m still working on accepting this stuff without falling into the mental trap that I’m “whining about nothing” and that “other people have it worse”. They do. Someone always does. But that doesn’t mean that the stuff that’s happened to me isn’t bad. 

I don’t know how much information you’re looking for, or if you’re asking about my experience specifically, but I’m still a bit off so what the hell. 

I already have issues with fall and the beginning of the school year for various reasons that I won’t go into. So this time of year is always tricky. But...

For those who don’t already know, five years and fifteen days ago, I called my grandmother and she told me she was going to kill herself. I was the only one home, I had just turned 23 years old two weeks beforehand, she had told me she was having a hard time affording some things, and I had offered to make her an appointment with a therapist and with a new primary care physician and to pay for it all so she could keep taking her medication. 

I called to ask her what day might work for an appointment so I could take the time off work, pick her up, take her to lunch, and then drive her to the appointment, and she told me she was going to kill herself. She told me she had been saving up her pills, and that’s why she hadn’t been taking them. She told me she had discussed it with my grandfather, and that he knew and was ok with it, and they were going through their belongings so there would be “less for him to deal with” once she was gone and that she was “surprised I hadn’t caught on sooner”. 

I kept her on the phone, kept her talking on my cell, and grabbed the home phone to start calling anyone I could think of. My mom, my dad, my aunt (with whom I had only reconciled five days before-- big misunderstanding, but still a lot), my mom’s cousin... no one would answer. 

By the time my mom got home, I had been on the phone with my grandmother for over an hour, mid panic attack, and I was hyperventilating so hard I couldn’t see and I couldn’t stand. Your limbs go all tingly when you don’t retain enough carbon dioxide, and I remember trying to walk to her and collapsing. I gasped out an explanation, my mom took the reins, and we were able to get in touch with my aunt and get the necessary medical professionals on hand to give my grandmother a psychiatric evaluation and put her on a 72 hour hold. 

We were at the hospital until nearly 4 in the morning before a nurse told us that they legally couldn’t release my grandmother because the doctor had mandated a three day safety hold, and that we should go home and get some rest. By the time we made it home, there was a message on our answering machine that a county examiner had released her and there was nothing more they could do. 

I found out later, much later, that she had never stopped taking her meds. She’d never said a word to my grandfather. She had no intention of killing herself. She wanted a reaction from me, and she got one. She called my cousins and told them I was a liar. She called family members who have never even met me and told them how awful I am, and that I make things up for attention.

I waited a little over a week to call her. I recorded the call, so that I’d have proof if I needed it. It’s still on my harddrive somewhere. Two plus hours of her calling me a liar, telling me that conversation never happened, telling me that she’s ashamed of me, that she hopes no one in their right mind ever loves me because I’m a monster, that she pities my friends and anyone who has the misfortune of knowing me because I’ll stab them in the back too as soon as I want some attention. The list goes on and on. 

That continued for a while. Whether or not it’s true, when someone you love tells you things over and over again, you can’t help but wonder. 

I started having dreams that she was hitting me, and that people were letting her do it. I started having dreams that I was in a loving, committed relationship but came home one day to a seething partner who had just gotten off the phone with her and realized I was a worthless liar, and of them, too, turning abusive. I started having dreams that I was alone at the bottom of a deep, dark hole, and no one could hear me or try to get me out. 

She decided one day that we were going to pretend nothing had ever happened, and I was forced to play along. All the while she’d still call and say awful things to me, then show up at family gathering like nothing was wrong. She’d say one thing to me, another to my family, and call me a liar to my face and behind my back. She kept telling friends and family that I was being abusive and manipulative to her. 

It hit the point that I truly, genuinely couldn’t remember what she had said in that initial call, and I worried I had made it all up. Gaslighting at it’s finest. 

It’s taken years to realize it, but every interaction I had with her following that date has been either abuse or manipulation. She spent months and months refusing to speak to me unless it was to tell me how horrible I am, then like flipping a switch one day I came home and there was a gift on my front porch from her. She’d ease up for a while, then suddenly be awful again. My entire life, she had always been the epitome of a perfect grandma... she’d take me on outings, buy me little gifts, bake with me at the holidays, sing songs with the grandkids, loved playing with us, we’d talk for hours on the phone, they came to dinner frequently. And now... it’s like a veil has been lifted and she’s unrecognizable.

I tried to maintain a relationship with her. She screamed at everyone at Easter a few years back that her silverware was more important to her than a relationship with me. I kept trying. She told a lawyer that my mom and I had “stolen her medical records” and were “forcing her to have medical procedures against her will”. I kept trying. She threatened to send a police officer to our house, accusing me of stealing. I kept trying. 

And finally, last fall, I called to wish her a happy birthday, she began a tangent, and I realized I was so tired. I asked her outright if she wanted a relationship with me. She told me she couldn’t be bothered to think about it. I haven’t spoken to her since. 

That one phone call cost me so, so much. I lost my relationship with my grandmother and my grandfather, by extension. Other family members have questioned if I’m lying to them, or if I made things up. I’ve questioned if I made things up. 

In the midst of all of this, my father also completely shifted and I don’t know why. He started picking fights with me, almost constantly. If I tried to change the subject, I was too stupid to have a discussion. If I stayed silent, I clearly knew I was wrong. If I said anything in reply, I was lying. He throws things, when he’s mad. He kicks things. He used to punch walls. My mom has since said to me that if she had any idea that he would turn into this person, she wouldn’t have married him. Sometimes he’s great, sometimes he’s awful. I never know which version I’ll be dealing with. 

I’ve spent nearly five straight years in therapy trying to deal with this. My original goal was not to hate my grandmother, or my father. It had to adapt to not hating myself because of what they said to me. 

So October is hard. Because October is when my mind and body unconsciously remember things changing. Relationships I’d always counted on turned abusive. Nothing I said or did was safe. It’s dangerous. 

I blew past the actual anniversary just feeling sort of... jittery. I’ve spent a few weeks feeling withdrawn and anxious and not knowing why. I had a noticeable uptick in old thought patterns and intrusive thoughts about self worth, self harm, etc. 

Whether or not it’s logical, whether or not it makes sense... my self preservation has locked onto this time of year as unsafe, and it falls into old patterns in an attempt at protection. Old patterns include anxiety, difficulty eating regularly, issues with self worth, withdrawing from others, emotions very close to the surface, and a few other things. 

And that’s where I’m at. 

I’m ok, and I’ll be ok. I’ve got some experience dealing with this under my belt now, and I still see my therapist regularly. I’m talking to her next week. At the moment, I’m just trying to take care of me however it makes sense, and not doing anything dangerous or dumb. 

So... that’s what I mean by trauma anniversary. 

[degrassi-fanatic]

His Proxy

Warmth seeps through the flimsy paper of the coffee cup he is holding in his hands. It does little to keep away the cold. If Rossi were alone, he would be nursing his drink inside the actual coffeeshop, instead of sitting in the icy outdoors chair just outside of the establishment, in the middle of winter. But, he’s not. He’s with Reid and he knows that there are far too many things in the shop that would make Reid uncomfortable; the amount of people, the close proximity of the seats, the numerous twinkling lights, and not to mention the recycled air that’s sure to have Reid going off on a tangent about proper air ventilation.

Which is why Rossi is freezing his ass off on a plastic chair, with Reid doing the same on the other side of the tiny table between them. The two of them going out for coffee is not a rare occurrence but, for some reason today feels different. Perhaps it’s because Reid’s own cup is sitting on the edge of the table, full to the brim and far from his reach; usually Reid can chug scalding coffee and be ready for his third cup while Rossi is still on his first. Or maybe, it’s because Reid has been shuffling a couple of papers, smoothing out creases that aren’t there.

As Rossi sets the cup down on the table, he lets out a long sigh that has Reid finally looking up from his hands.

“Okay, I guess I’ll have to say something first,” Rossi says, more to himself than to Reid, “What are those papers you’ve got there?”

Reid’s fidgeting fingers come to a halt. Then, instead of giving him a verbal response, he simply hands over the small stack of papers without meeting his eyes.

For a moment, Rossi is puzzled as he rakes his eyes over the contents of the first page. Then, he realizes what exactly he is looking at.

These are forms for the appointment of a new proxy, a new health care agent. The box listed for the name of the primary individual has already been filled in with a messy looking ‘Spencer Reid’. Not too far below it, the box for the name of the health care agent has been filled in with the same chicken scratch drawl from before, spelling out ‘David Rossi’.

“When I joined the FBI, I realized that I needed to update my medical information, in case something happened to me.” Reid begins to explain as he stares at the documents in Rossi’s hands, “It was a no-brainer when it came to who I wanted to make my medical decisions for me, when I couldn’t. My mother is indisposed. My father isn’t… But, Gideon was there.

“Until he wasn’t.” he adds on.

“Gideon was your health care agent.” Rossi confirms.

Nodding, Reid shifts around until he can shove his hands underneath his thighs; something he always did to ground himself.

“Even after he left, I never really bothered to change it; I guess I always thought if I was hurt, he would come running.” he admits, “Then, three weeks ago, I was...”

He doesn’t need to say anymore because Rossi remembers what happened three weeks ago in vivid detail. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to forget it; the sight of a beaten and bruised Reid laying against cold pavement as Rossi  desperately called for EMS, the sound of the painfully silent waiting room, the lingering smell of blood being taken over by the scent of disinfectant as he walked into the hospital room.

“I was dying,” Reid manages to continue, “And the hospital was calling Gideon, except his number wouldn’t go through and I knew that—”

His words are cut off as he turns his head to look up and away, in an attempt to prevent the tears from spilling down his face.

“I knew that Gideon wasn’t going to come, that he was never going to come.”

“Spencer…” Rossi murmurs softly as he sets down the papers in his hand.

Using the back of his sleeve, Reid dabs at the corners of his eyes, wiping away the tears as he lets out a sniffle.

“I just need someone I can trust to be there for me.”

“Why me, though?” he asks, “Why not Hotch or JJ? Even Prentiss or Morgan? Garcia?”

“Oh.” Reid lets out.

If the heartbroken expression on Reid’s face is anything to go by, Rossi must’ve asked the wrong question. Within a second, Reid leans over the table and picks up the papers.

“You’re right.” he continues as he stands up to pack away his belongings into his bag, “I should probably just ask the others. I don’t even know why I thought you would want to—”

Before he can get up and run away, Rossi lays a gentle hand against his wrist. It’s enough to get Reid to stop.

“Spencer,” Rossi says, “The answer is yes.”

“Oh.” Reid lets out again, looking dumbfounded.

Without anything else to say, he simply slumps back down into his seat. His bag hitting the ground with a thud. His coffee rippling as he accidentally knocks his leg against the edge of the table.

“I just want to know why you would ask me to make decisions on your behalf if you’re, God-forbid, out of commission.”

A contemplative silence washes over Reid as he takes a minute to think about why he would want David Rossi, commitment issues extraordinaire, to be in charge of his body when he’s incapable of being so.

“Y’know, for the longest time, Gideon was the closest thing I had to a father.” he starts off as he fiddles with the tassels at the end of the scarf wrapped around his neck, “Then, he left. I know why he did but, it just hurt; to know that all of those years were worth nothing when push came to shove.”

An overwhelming sense of dread begins to build inside of Rossi. His hands ball up into fists, where they rest against the tops of his thighs.

If Reid is only asking him to be his health care agent out of some sort of strange transference because he misses Jason, Rossi won’t sign off on those papers.

He cannot bear the thought of only being Gideon’s replacement in Reid’s eyes.

“Listen Reid, if I’m just your second option—”

“No!” he exclaims before flushing when he realizes how loud he was, “Look, I’ve come to realize that though I considered Gideon my father, he didn’t consider me his son. He already had one. He was my mentor and a friend but, what we had wasn’t what a father-son relationship was supposed to be.

“But, you, Rossi?” Reid asks, “You helped me pick out my suit for my date. You brought me, Henry, and Jack out fishing that one weekend. You took Prentiss and I out on Father’s Day, and don’t even try and tell me you didn’t know what day it was.”

Rossi swallows down the sudden lump in his throat.

When James had passed away and Carolyn and him had filed for divorce, Rossi vowed to himself to never have any children. The pain of losing a baby that had only lived for a total of three days was enough to do him over; he cannot imagine the pain of losing a five year old, a fifteen year old, a twenty five year old.

As Reid lays everything he’s done before him in a neatly strung together set of words, Rossi realizes just how terribly he kept his promise.

“I didn’t raise you, Spencer.” Rossi says, his voice coming out hoarse and watery at the same time, “But, I wish I had.”

All Reid can do is stare up at him and if this is the look he gives to those he loves, Rossi cannot understand how William Reid walked away from it, how he walked out on his son.

Rossi can’t talk much, though. He’s walked out on his fair share of people.

Spencer won’t be one of them, though. Nor, will Emily. Not even Jack or Henry. No, for once, David Rossi is here to stay.

“I don’t think you would’ve liked me when I was young.” Reid jokes, in an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

Rossi lets out a chuckle.

“Who says I like you now?” he teases back as he brings the rim of his now lukewarm cup of coffee to his lips.

[irene-sadler]

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

1. my usual due diligence b/c some deeply programmed part of my brain can't not cite my sources::

are you interested in reading some secondary source material about the civic government of a medieval city?* or a primary source document listing the personal expenses of Henry VIII between 1529-1532, a line item of which i copied and modified for this chapter? well now u can i guess, go for it.

 *(there's like no easily accessible canon info about what Rivia (the city, not the kingdom or the castle) is like, but after some side reading about other medieval cities it seemed like it should be roughly the size of York vs the size of London or Paris, which were the capitols of much more important kingdoms to irl western Europe than Lyria and Rivia seem to have been to northern Fake Europe. i mean, before Meve more or less single handedly fucked up an entire invasion force and yeeted herself into international fame obviously.)

2. i posted a short scene i cut from this chapter here. 

 ---- 

  7.

    In the days leading up to the fair, a veritable army of men in armor descended on the castle and town surrounding it, spending a mint of money and tearing up the grass of the green outside the wall with ceaseless practices and a few very real fights. The Baroness, who had graciously accepted the Queen’s invitation, became a semi-permanent fixture beside the hastily erected fence surrounding the field. Despite the cold, she spent the short daylight hours observing and offering opinions and guidance. Gascon arrived with a retinue of familiar-looking rogues that drew a dark frown from Reynard and threw himself happily into the endless clashes. The Baroness watched him for most of an afternoon, then in the evening delivered a detailed lecture indicating how and where his technique could be improved, which he cheerily took to heart. The result, according to his tutor, was that he progressed, somewhat, from a reasonable amateur to something like a professional.

     Meve managed to keep her company often enough to hear many of her opinions. She noted bad habits and technical errors in almost all of Meve’s serving knights, with few exceptions; of Sir Odo, she only remarked casually that he yet showed no sign of losing a step, age or prior injuries be damned. She made the unusually enthusiastic comment within earshot of its subject as he offered advice to a young knight he’d unseated; he appeared slightly surprised and rode over, eyebrows raised.

    “Was that a compliment, my lady?” he asked, looming over the two women where they stood by the fence.

    “Would you like it to be?” the Baroness replied, giving no sign either way.

    “Why not?” he said, matching her tone, bowed courteously in his saddle, slammed his visor down, and rode away. Meve stared distractedly after him.

    “He’ll be an early contender for the prize, I believe,” the Baroness remarked.

    “Well, he’s certainly my favorite,” she replied, airily.

    “And doesn’t he know it,” the older woman muttered, then added, “That man has a target on his back.”

    Meve returned to earth and turned an inquiring frown on her.

    “Look,” the older woman explained, waving a hand to indicate the field at large. “There’s not less than two dozen knights here, and squires besides, as well as more than a few fighters who are neither. Some are no doubt here for the prizes, and some for th’ entertainment value, and others to catch a woman’s eye, but, no matter what their reasons, every man among them would very much like to defeat the Queen’s champion, make no mistake.”      

    The Baroness paused significantly, clearly waiting for her to see a point. Meve, aware that even Reynard lost a match, on occasion, failed to arrive at whatever it was; she shrugged dismissively and said, “Yes, and?”

    “And, therefore, don’t leave his equipment unguarded overnight, or his horse,” she explained impatiently, with a slight eye roll; she added, as an afterthought, “Your Grace.”

    “Oh.”

      After dinner she stared contemplatively into the fire, paying no attention to Reynard and Gascon’s idle chatter nearby. The Baroness’s suggestion - or was it a warning? - weighed on her thoughts. So did the fact that she had yet to find a third judge; a difficult prospect, as whoever she picked might not suit, or, worse, might be inclined to see political significance where there was none. Further, she hadn’t seen the black knight, or even heard anything of him, in well over a week; it was arguably the least of her problems, but bothered her nevertheless. She was jolted out of her reverie only when Reynard shook her suddenly by the shoulder; she frowned distractedly at him, realized he had asked her something, and said, “What?”

    “What are you thinking about?” he repeated, patiently. Gascon stared glassily at her, an expectant smile on his face. She explained about the judge, in brief, expecting their conversation to then go on without concerning itself with the matter.

    “But why d’ you need three judges?” Gascon wondered, instead, slurring his words somewhat.

    “Because there are always three judges,” Reynard replied stiffly, evidently less than perfectly sober himself.

    “The third judge is necessary, I’m afraid,” Meve explained. “A tiebreaker.”

    “Oh,” said Gascon, “I see. Well, what I would do is just get Gaspar or someone t’ do it, and say good enough; I suppose it doesn’t truly matter who does the job, in th’ end.”

    “The joust is serious business,” Reynard said, growing somewhat haughty, “You can’t just appoint some ruffian who can’t talk as an official.”

    “No,” Meve said, soothingly, before Gascon could react, “I don’t think he would do, at all, not to worry. However, Gascon’s drunken rambling has given me a thought - I don’t really have to choose the third judge myself.”

    “What do you mean by that?” Reynard asked, suspiciously.

    “Never you mind,” she said, casually, “You’ll find out soon enough. Anyway - I meant to ask you, Gascon, for a favor.”

    “By all means,” he replied, cheerily.

     “I need you to assign some of your more reliable and sober men to keep an eye on Reynard’s harness, weapons, and above all his horse, until the fair.”

    “Why?” Reynard asked; Meve ignored him, temporarily. Gascon, on the other hand, seemed to immediately understand, and nodded his agreement.

    “Oh, yes, naturally, you do,” he said. “I’ll put my best people on it, not t’ worry.”

    “Thank you,” she said, and then explained herself to Reynard after Gascon departed to see to the matter. He frowned doubtfully and began, “I really don’t think it’s necessary to -”

    “I know you don’t,” she interrupted, a little curtly, “It’s why I didn’t ask you.”

    He fell into a slightly disgruntled silence, obviously offended; she immediately regretted her tone, blamed it on the late hour, and delivered a genuine apology, which he graciously accepted, as he always did.

      At ten the next morning, she attended a meeting with the bailiff, aldermen, and Mayor of the city outside her castle walls. The Mayor was an ancient man who’d been installed in his position some years before she was born, and would not be hurried as he explained, at length, the procedures and trials of the next few days. She half-listened to his speech, delivered in the same didactic voice as always, and to the discourse that followed, well aware of the various topics that would be covered, as they were exactly the same each year for each fair - roadblocks, fire brigades, the necessity to have extra guards at night, the necessity to have yet further guards to keep the visitors out of the stockyard and away from the docks, the vanishingly small probability of snow. The Queen sat, patiently chiming in on the usual occasions to promise a detachment of soldiers from the castle and to offer the use of the stables in the courtyard, if needed, but otherwise waiting in silence for the meeting to wind to a close. There was, she knew from experience, no speeding up the unvarying process, and it was easiest to try; at the end, however, when the Mayor, as always, asked for any final remarks, she said, “I’ve one, gentlemen.”

    The room turned as one to stare at her in collective astonishment; she had never shown the slightest desire to lengthen any meeting in the past, and the atmosphere grew wary and uncertain at the irregularity. She smiled at them, professionally, and continued, “I have a small request only: the jousting event that’s bringing you so much custom this year requires three judges, but I find myself with only two; I thought perhaps you could select the last yourselves and then send ‘em along to the castle this afternoon.”

    She was assured that the thing was in their power to grant and departed in secret amusement, leaving the disturbed city government in full knowledge that, so long as she ruled in Lyria and Rivia, the troubling moment would never be forgotten.

      The city council sent along their choice - a round, dark-haired young woman - some hours later. She received a very dubious look from Reynard when Ethan brought her into his little office, where he sat in consultation with the Queen. Her name was Giselle, she said, and she knew nothing whatsoever about jousting - although, of course, she’d seen many a brawl, because she was a barmaid at the largest public house in the town square; she was just lately seventeen, but had been employed there since she was ten, and fights were expected and even wagered on should the combatants be interesting enough. Meve was, for once, grateful for Reynard’s unyielding sense of propriety; he grew steadily more unapproachable, but said absolutely nothing as the girl finished her introduction and subsided into silence, casting an uneasy glance at his remote frown.

    “Well,” Meve said, pleasantly, “It’s no matter; the finer details of the sport are easy enough to learn. I’m not going to force you, if you’d rather not, but should you like to be a judge tomorrow along with myself and the Baroness, you’re quite welcome.”

    Giselle’s face lit up; she replied quickly, “Oh, yes, I’d love to, my lady.” Meve nodded, satisfied.

    “Well, then, Ethan there will explain the rules and answer any questions you have; you may go along with him,” she said. Ethan promptly turned a brilliant shade of red as Giselle turned a broad smile on him. Meve drew on decades of diplomatic experience and managed to maintain a straight face as the pair attempted to make their escape from the overcrowded office, briefly became jammed together in the doorway, and awkwardly negotiated their way out, one after the other.

    “Gods preserve us,” Reynard muttered, rubbing his forehead painfully, the moment the door finally shut behind them. Meve snorted a laugh at last, perched on the edge of his desk, and said, “She’ll do nicely, I think; seems game enough, given the circumstances.”

    He shook his head at her and asked, wearily, “Is it too early to start drinking?”

    “It is a holiday. However, those guard patrols for the town must be arranged, and I still have to review my steward’s reports -”

    “I’ll bring the reports as well as a bottle, then,” Reynard decided, making for the door; she caught his arm as he passed, kissed him, and pulled away a long moment later to stare into his eyes. He blinked down at her, apparently struck as speechless as his squire, until she released him and said, “Go on, then; I’ll be here.”

    “Actually, I’m not thirsty after all,” he said, not moving away. She flashed a smile, slid her arms around his neck, and didn’t argue.

      Reynard did arrange the patrols, eventually, but Meve was forced to put the paperwork off; there was a feast to attend, and she had no time to read accounts before it began. It had to be held in the courtyard under the moonlight, because the entire city was invited and most of it’s more upstanding citizens had actually turned up, and, on top of them, all the knights and their horde of attendants; the resulting crowd would never fit inside the great hall. Even her usual courtiers had trouble maintaining stiff decorum in the open air, by blazing fires and with an astonishing amount of food and drink in them. The Queen herself sat at a table with the Baroness and Count Odo; the Count was companionably silent as usual, and so Meve passed the time chatting mainly with the Baroness. The women waved off occasional requests to dance in favor of a detailed discussion of feats of arms they’d witnessed during tournaments and battles, until, unexpectedly, Sir Holt advanced on them out of the crowd. The Baroness immediately paused, mid-sentence, and stared him down; he did not appear to notice her pointed, but wordless, dismissal. Reynard stiffened slightly in his seat, eyes narrowing. Meve sighed quietly; she of course knew the red knight was in attendance, because she’d spotted Gaheris out in the lists the previous afternoon, but had thought he’d have had the sense to avoid her.

    However, all the red knight said to her was a polite greeting and a remark on the success of the evening, so far. She nodded at him in acknowledgment; he then turned to Reynard and said, “Count Odo - I look forward to our rematch, tomorrow.”

    “Do you, now?” the Count replied, coldly; then, his conscience apparently made uneasy by his own rudeness, added, “As do I, Sir Holt; best of luck to you, when the time comes.”

    “And to you, my lord,” the red knight said, glanced uncertainly at the condescending Baroness, and retreated without further comment. Meve glanced sideways at the Count’s distant frown and nodded to him resignedly. He needed no further invitation to quit the field, and, for some reason, the remainder of the event seemed to go on with a shade of awkwardness in his absence; her renewed conversation with the Baroness felt somewhat stilted, and the din of the crowd around them oppressive. The feast eventually ended with an inevitable speech by the Mayor, which not a soul attended to; the locals had heard it before and the visitors seemed to be unsure who it was that was lecturing them. The Queen then delivered some much briefer remarks, as expected, which received the crowd’s full concentration, dismissed them to their own devices, and departed.

      An hour later, she was safely in her own private office, puzzling over a line item in her steward’s report: paied to Sir Roger Eres knight upon a bille of Sir John Kimborne knight 153 g., when someone came thundering up the stairs and burst suddenly through the door. Reynard jerked awake in his chair by the fire, alarmed at the noise, saw what had made it, and settled again with a quiet, relieved, sigh. She herself had turned a savage glare on the intruder, but subsided when it only proved to be Gascon, reeking of liquor and panting slightly.

    “It’s late, Brossard. What do you want?” Meve asked, looking back down at her papers. She sat back with a quick, irritated, frown as the Duke strode over, slapped a wide leather strap down on top of them, and demanded, “Look at this.”

    “It’s a girth, from a saddle,” she said, glancing from it to him with a raised eyebrow.

    “Yes,” Gascon agreed, despite her warning expression. Reynard stood with a faint groan, walked over, glanced at it, and said, “Isn’t that one of mine? What’s this about?”

    “Look there, by the buckle,” Gascon said, impatiently, pointing. Meve eyed the area and spotted what appeared to be a wrinkle or crack in the leather; she picked it up to study it more closely, and finally looked back up at the Duke, scowling.

    “It looks as if someone cut it most of the way through,” she said. “And then, what? Glued it back together? A damn good job, too; would never have noticed it, myself, if you didn’t point it out.”

    “It would likely snap th’ instant it took a hard shock,” Reynard added, taking the girth and turning it over thoughtfully. “But when someone might’ve done it, I don’t know. I used this just yesterday, practicing against Roland Orlac; you were there, Meve.”

    “Perhaps they did it days ago, and it was just luck that kept it from breaking, then,” Gascon suggested, shrugging. “Or it could have been yesterday afternoon, before Pug and Gaspar started looking after your things.”  

    Meve swore angrily, already forming a long list of suspects: disgruntled barons, unscrupulous competitors, foreign saboteurs, domestic anarchists. Reynard sighed in weary agreement with her.

    “Well, annoying as this is, it’s not my first overly bitter rival, I suppose. I’ve survived th’ others; this will be no different,” he said, pragmatically.

    “Yes, well, regardless, it’ll be your last. Find out who did this, Gascon,” the Queen said. “I take attempts to sabotage my General’s equipment very personally.”

    “I’ll do what I can,” he assured, grimly.

[nickysurfer28]

Summary: Chris wants an official date with you. Will you say yes? And what happens during your newest dream with him?

Word count:over 1k

Warning ⚠️: 18+only smut,sex,group action,etc.

Characters: Dr.Nicky Ransom x Chris Evans , Denise Ames (cousin),Tim,Judith.

Chapter 10:

You wake in an unfamiliar room, and it takes you a moment to get your bearings.

Right. I fell asleep at Chris’s house. He must have put me to bed. It’s no surprise a house this size has a guest room.

You cast your eyes around the elegantly furnished room.

This is.. gorgeous. My interior design skills place in comparison!

Images from last nights dream flood your mind , and a fresh pang of arousal makes you gasp. You stare up at the ceiling, your body throbbing with frustrated desire.

I’m in Chris’s house. In Chris’s bed.

You slide a hand down your body, your skin tingling deliciously in its wake.

It wouldn’t be so wrong to give myself a little relief, would it? I should... pick up where my dream left off.

You slip your fingers between your legs, finding yourself slick and swollen.

That was a hell of a dream...

You close your eyes, remembering the feel of Chris’s mouth on you.

“Mmm...” Nicky moaned.

You circle your fingers faster, plucking at a nipple with your other hand.

So close...so close..

You piston two fingers inside yourself, then a third, imagining Chris’s hard cockiness their place.

“Oh!” Nicky squealed.

Climax surges through your body like an electrical current. Fully spent, you lay back against the pillows, panting.

And I’ll totally be thinking about that next time I see Chris. Great idea, self.

You slip out bed with a sigh. Your legs warble as you stand, your head swimming dizzily.

Ugh. Guess that’s what I get for staying up late. I’d do it all over again, though.

You look down at yourself and laugh.

And it’s no wonder my brain conjured a ball as I slept!

You straighten yourself up as a best you can, and you see a pair of shorts, and a man’s shirt laid out for you.

Chris is really thoughtful, huh.

After you change ,you head out into the hallway.

All right. Let’s see...

Doors lead off on either side of the hall. You try each in turn, revealing a series of rooms that look to have been rarely if ever used. You head back into the study.

We had a drink, we danced, I fell asleep, and he put me to bed. Nothing else happened between us last night. Certainly nothing sexual.

Your ears pick up the faint strains of music, and you follow it into an elegant parlor. Chris sits at a grand piano, his fingers moving gracefully over the keys. He looks up as you enter.

“Good morning.” Chris answered warmly.

“Good morning to you,too.” Nicky answered.

You watch him play for a moment.

“Wow, you’re .. very talented.” Nicky answered.

“Thank you.” Chris answered.

He chuckles, his fingers effortlessly gliding over the keys even as he speaks to you.

The song he’s playing sounds familiar.

“Apologies. I know classical music isn’t always everyone’s favorite.” Chris answered.

“No, it’s beautiful. You play so well.” Nicky answered.

“You’re too kind. Many don’t particularly appreciate this music nowadays.” Chris answered.

Chris smiles sadly as he plays.

Wait, the song is on the tip of my tongue.

“Well, Mozart is pretty palatable for anyone.” Nicky answered.

Chris smiles, his eyes alight with surprise and happiness.

“You know the piece?” Chris answered.

“Yeah. That’s his Sonata in B-flat major, right?” Nicky answered.

“It is.” Chris answered.

His lifting, hypnotic voice lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Very impressive.” Chris answered with a smile.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, but you smile back.

“Not as impressive as your playing.” Nicky answered.

“I take it you like classical music?” Chris answers.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Nicky answered. “So... who’s your favorite classical composer?”.

“Chopin. Definitely.” Chris answered.

Chris smiles, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. It’s the same smile Chris of you dream wore as he pushed your skirt up around your hips. Your pulse races.

“Ah. You slept well, I hope?” Chris answered.

“Um.”Nicky answered. Focus, Nicky! I have to...keep my cool.

You take a calming breath.

“I slept great. The bed was crazy comfortable.” Nicky answered. “Your guest room is beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you had a restful sleep.” Chris answered.

You have no idea.

“I did.” Nicky answered.

Chris nods.

“I’m glad. I’m afraid that room doesn’t see much use. And I’m sorry about your costume.” Chris answered. “I can’t imagine it was comfortable to sleep in, but I thought it best to- ah- leave it on you. I hope that was the right decision.”

An unwelcome tingle of arousal makes you shiver.

“Definitely the right decision.” Nicky answered.

Is the man trying to kill me?

You clear you throat , shaking the sexy thoughts from your mind.

“Sorry I just kind of ... fell asleep on you last night.” Nicky answered.

Chris laughs.

“You clearly have no head for drink.” Chris answered.

“It’s more a factor of usually being in bed well before midnight!” Nicky answered.

“Ah. I fear I can’t relate. I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac myself.” Chris answered.

“Have you spoken to your primary physician about that?” Nicky answered.

Chris arches an elegant brow.

“Right. None of my doctory beeswax.” Nicky answered.

“No. But I’m touched that you care.” Chris answered.

“I’m....glad you think so. Because I know it can be kind of annoying.”Nicky answered.

“It’s not.” Chris answered. “It’s nice having you here. I don’t usually have company in the mornings.”

Your eyes flick over to the heavy drapes blocking out the morning sun.

Poor Chris . I hate that I have to rush out on him.

“Thank you for having me, but...I should get going. It’s a workday for me. I need to get home and get ready for my appointments.” Nicky answered.

Chris raises from the piano.

“Won’t you stay just a bit longer?” Chris answered.

“Chris...”Nicky answered.

“Just a cup of coffee. What do you say?” Chris answered.

You go over your morning schedule in your head.

Coffee wouldn’t take long. I could spend a little more time with Chris and still get ready in time for work.

“I have time for coffee.” Nicky answered.

You let out a laugh of surprise as Chris pulls you into abrupt hug and then follow him into the kitchen.

The room is just as dim grey as it was before, but it seems less gloomy with Chris inside. He bypasses the coffee pot and pulls a French press out of an otherwise empty cabinet.

“You would be that bougie!” Nicky answered with a smile.

“A man needs to have standards.” Chris answered.

You drink your coffee slowly, talking about nothing in particular and enjoying each other’s company.

Is this what dating Chris would be like? Spending every morning with a sweet, gorgeous man who makes me fancy coffee? That doesn’t sound bad at all.

The time passes quickly, and soon you really do have to go.

You summon a ride, and Chris escorts you to the front door as the driver approaches.

“Thank you for spending the morning with me, Nicky.” Chris answered.

“We should do it again sometime.” Nicky answers.

You press a soft kiss to Chris’s cheek.

“Goodbye, Chris . I’ll see you around.” Nicky answers.

He takes your hand before you can open the door.

“Can we do it again?” Chris answered. “After spending last night chasing donations, I feel like I owe you a real date. Only if you’d be interested, of course. I wouldn’t want to presume-“.

“Chris... I’d love to go on a real date with you.” Nicky answered. “Later this week?”.

He smiles , and you feel a rush of lightheadedness that has nothing to do with your lack of sleep.

“That would be perfect.” Chris answered with a smile.

You reach for the door again,

“Wait!” Chris answered.

“Chris, I really have to-“ Nicky answered. The words are muffled as Chris presses his lips to yours. His kiss is chaste, but desire courses through your veins all the same. You wind you arms around his neck, kissing him fervently. His tongue plays at the seam of your lips, and you part them eagerly for him, greeting his tongue with your own.

“Mmm..”Nicky moaned.

He holds you close, his body flush against yours as he kisses you hungrily. You moan, content for the moment to stretch on forever... and jump as a horn blast communicates your ride’s impatience. You step out of Chris’s arms, your cheeks burning.

“You make it hard to leave, I’ll give you that.” Nicky answered.

“Then don’t leave.” Chris answered.

“I have to. See you soon?”Nicky answered.

Chris nods resignedly, and you give him one last kiss before slipping out the door.

After your final appointment that afternoon, a sudden burst of motivation carries you to your storage room.

This is where I’ve kept all of Clare’s things since she died. It hurts too much to look at them.

Now you unpack box after box, examining the priceless treasures within.

Clare’s sketchbooks. Her paintings . Her high school yearbooks....

You open a photo album to a shot of you, Clare, and Denise looking happy and carefree, and you smile wistfully.

If only .... I’d been old enough to help Clare. I didn’t understand at the time just how vulnerable she was. If I had , maybe I could have saved her from Adrian.

And you think of the man who ruined at all. Clare’s boyfriend . The love of her life, supposedly.

Adrian. His name was Adrian.

For a man you never met, Adrian has cast a long shadow over your life.

He took Clare from us, and he became my symbol for everything to avoid in life: dependency, need, lack of control... it’s why all my relationships have been so superficial. But now, with Chris...

Your cheeks warm as you remember the kiss this morning.

He’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. Clare’s art should never have been gathering dust in here. It should be displayed all through the house to honor her memory.

You select a dozen canvases, and set them aside to take to a framer. Your phone vibrates with a text from Denise .

*text messages*

“Huge portrait exhibit at the museum this weekend! Wanna come with me and Tim?” Denise text.

“That sounds...fun.” Nicky text.

“I haven’t been to the museum in ages. Count me in.” Nicky text.

“YAAAAYY! Denise text.

“You should invite Chris, too. Art museums can be romantic..;). “ Denise text.

It sounds like Denise been spending too much time with Judith.

“You know what? That sounds like a great idea.” Nicky text.

*end of text messages*

You agree on a time and shoot a message to Chris.

It’s time to focus on the future.

A future that might just include a relationship with Chris Evans.

When you’re done with work on Friday, you feel utterly exhausted.

I’m excited to go to a museum with everyone..especially Chris.

That thought clings to you as drift off to sleep.

*dream sequence **

You’re in a museum, full of statues depicting knights in shining armor in battle.

I’m lucid dreaming again.

You walk up to one of the suits of armor.

“Hello there.” Nicky answered.

The knight tilts his head at you in acknowledgment.

“Oh, wow.” Nicky answered in shock.

Then, you notice all the knights shift to look at you.

“This is strange... but I’m not frightened.” Nicky answered.

“Is that wise.” Chris answered.

With a gasp, you whirl around to face the voice.

“Chris! What are you doing here? Our date isn’t until tomorrow.” Nicky answered in shock.

He steps closer to you and reaches out, stroking your cheek.

Then, everything shifts.

“A battlefield?”Nicky answered.

You turn around and see Chris dressed in knight’s clothing. Shadows of the knights close in on you, and Chris draws a sword.

“Give us the girl.” Knight answered.

“Never.” Chris answers.

Chris swings his sword and fights them off, moving smoothly and gracefully, almost like a dance.

“Chris! Watch out!” Nicky yelled.

He heads your warning, easily dodging around the knights. The battle stills, and Chris turns back to you.

“Are you frightened, Nicky?” Chris answered.

You barely need to think about the question.

“No.” Nicky answered. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He drops his sword and strides over to you. The defeated knights circle in, keeping their distance as they watch you both.

“You should be.” Chris answered.

Chris strokes your face with his hand, smearing mud across your cheek.

“Too bad for you.” Nicky answered.

He growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and hugging you close to his body. The force of it sends a thrill through you. Then, he claims your mouth in a heated, possessive kiss. You surrender to him easily, melting into his touch.

“Nicky...” Chris answered.

You feel the muddied ground on your feet, but you don’t care. You tug him closer, and he begins to lower you to the ground. Dirt and mud surround you as he claims your mouth with an animalistic want.

“The knights are still watching us.” Nicky answered.

“Does that bother you, Nicky?” Chris answered. “Does it bother you that I want to take you here, for all of them to see?”

“...yes.” Nicky answered blushing. “It... it does. It’s embarrassing.

Chris smiles fondly.

“Adorable.” Chris answered.

He pushes you further into the mud and you feel it cushion you, wet and filthy.

“I want you, Nicky.” Chris answered. “I want them all to see us.”

Desire courses through you, filling every inch of your body.

“What do you want, Nicky?” Chris answered.

You swallow, feeling the mud in hair, dirtying your clothes. The knights look on.

“Chris...I want you to fuck me here for all to see.” Nicky answered.

Chris growls, crashing his mouth to yours. You moan into him, and he takes advantage of your open mouth to plunge his tongue inside you. He explores your mouth like a man starved.

“Too many clothes..” Nicky answered.

He grunts and tears your clothes off as if they were made of paper. You gasp, your nipples hardening as they meet the cold air.

“C-Chris....” Nicky whispers.

“Are they watching, Nicky?” Chris answered.

You look to the side and see the knights are even closer than before, watching every move.

“Y-yes.” Nicky answered.

“Good.” Chris answered.

Chris takes his cock out and rubs it over your exposed, wet entrance.

“Oh, God.” Nicky squealed.

“So wet, Nicky.” Chris answered.

Then, without ceremony, he plunges into you. Groaning, he takes you roughly, his thrusts fast and hard as he pumps his cock in and out of you. Frantically, you move your hips to meet his hard thrusts, desperate for more friction.

“God, Nicky.” Chris answered

You moan, looking around to see the knights around you, their cocks hard in their trousers.

“They’re watching, Chris.” Nicky answered.

“I want them to see more of you.” Chris answered.

He pulls out of you and you whimper.

“I want you on your hands and knees, Nicky. I want them to see your face as I take you.” Chris answered.

“Chris...take me from behind.” Nicky answers.

Chris flips you over easily, exposing your ass to him. Mud is everywhere, wet and squelching. You look up, seeing the knights stroking their cocks as they watch.

“Look how beautiful you are, Nicky. They can’t help themselves.” Chris answered.

He pushes you into the mud so your ass is up in air, his thrusts just as merciless as before. Then he plunges into you again, and you scream in pleasure. The knights watch as they stroke themselves, faster and faster.

“Are you going to come, Nicky?”Chris answered.

“Y-yes. Oh, God, yes.” Nicky answered.

“Come, then.” Chris answered.

He thrusts harder, faster , until all you can do is scream his name.

“Chris...Chris!” Nicky answered.

And just like that, you come undone.

“Nicky....” Chris answered.

The knights around you all finished just as Chris comes inside you, spilling his hot seed everywhere. You collapse on the ground, and he lays himself on top of you. You’re both panting,exhausted and sated. You both lay there in the mud, filthy and sated.

“You did beautifully, Nicky.” Chris answered.

Chris kisses your neck gently, and you moan.

“You deserve to be treated like a princess after that.” Chris answered.”which is exactly what we’ll do.”

“What do you mean?” Nicky answered.

And just like that, the mud and dirty battleground disappear. You find yourself pristine,dressed like royalty.

“What?” Nicky answered in shock.

And then Chris appears, dressed like a gentleman.

“Hello, your highness.” Chris answered.

He gives you a bow, and then you see them. A second Chris, identically gorgeous.

“Are you ready to be treated like a princess?” Chris answered.

*end of dream sequence *

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[prettykikimora]

what should i do today? most of the doctors are closed so i can’t make any calls, i’m gonna go in tomrrow for the follow up where the shitty guy is gonna tell me my blood test results came back everything fine and i might spring the informed consent paperwork just on him just to get a signature.  It doesn’t have to be anything too extensive.  I’ve got 2 weeks still till my next hrt doctor appointment. I got my old doctor’s referral by just speaking to her for like 10 minutes 5 years ago, haven’t seen that doctor in years, Sooooo, im assuming it’s going to be an easy matter, this man clearly doesn’t like, know what he’s talking about so he’ll just sign it i hope then i’ll be on my way.  My trans doctor still isn’t taking new patients on my insurance yet....otherwise she’d be my primary now...