#I think my actual first hospitalization was at the end of January

[hoothootmotherf-ckers]

.

[sanctus-ingenium]

Another one of these since i haven't done it in a while! Sketch -> finished illustration

Thoughts & process below the cut :>

Out of Bounds: i deleted the sketch of this off my ipad because i didn't like it, and for months it only existed as a screenshot on discord. finally in january of this year i was like Wait Actually and decided to keep working on it. I didn't achieve the look I was going for (kind of foggy and vague. It came out too sharp and high contrast) but it was fun to throw the kitchen sink at it for an afternoon and then call it done finally. I don't remember which horse this was originally supposed to be, I think Macha?

I reused the pose, you'll find the same one in my Pascal sketchbook from the section on gait studies. That's the cool thing about doing 30 sketches at once, you can finish them up any time you like for a different drawing

The Fool ft Islin: the original concept for this is from [takes a moment to decipher the american date system on discord] January 2022

It wasn't dynamic enough, but I've had this on the backburner for sooo long. I think I completed like 4 cards in between this sketch and the final version lol. But, for a bit of background, this is from my series of major arcana based in Inver, and in particular the events of the 1860s-era book series, Moth Viper Foal (a demo of the first book, Said The Black Horse, is available for free/pwyw in my shop). This scene is a companion to Said The Black Horse, depicting the aftermath of the traumatic fight that caused Islin to storm off. He had been working at the mill as a semiprofessional back alley surgeon when he received an offer to join the church and work as a trained surgeon in their hospital. But when he brought the good news back to his friends it was met with utter rejection, driving him to basically run away to join the church. while gay and trans. thus the card.

he didn't actually bring a bag with him when he ran out but for the sake of the card i drew him with one

Gryfon and Pantera: This is how 99% of holy beast drawings start out, even the super stylised ones. I struggle a lot to draw them in procreate so they start in sai and then i transfer them over. The story of this is already explained in the caption of the original post so I'll just talk about the process which was... honestly torturous. I actually don't like too much textures and effects on things (wild, I know) and this one and Out of Bounds are ones where I kind of preferred it pre-texturising.

The text on the side is the official in-universe report of the event, detailing the casualties, the valiant actions of Gryfon's knight before he died and so on. There's also spoilers in there :>

My main struggle with this art style is how it always ends up slightly TOO sharp and crisp in a way the just a blur filter never can correct. There's not a lot of immersion to break, to be fair, but I think this still does it a little. I need to get more comfortable doing the lines with larger and softer brushes, and allowing imperfections.

[keeskiwi]

I had a transgenderization surgery 1 month ago and I got the clear to stop wearing my post-op binder yesterday, and I keep feeling the desire to write out my thoughts somewhere but not knowing where, and then I remembered tumblr is The transgender website, so, you know, why not.

I had a double incision top surgery on January 30th. It feels pretty surreal in some ways. I first started experimenting with gender things in late 2010, grabbed a binder from Underworks in 2011, then kind of coasted along in a state of "well, a haircut, name change, and some new clothes have been working out for me mostly well enough and my breasts aren't that big anyway and maybe it's not a big deal even though every year I'll research if I can make my insurance cover it just in case and daydream a bit about something horrible happening that would require my breasts to get removed, with a side of quietly burning with envy when I see someone else get medical care for their dysphoria." For. A while.

Late 2022 I finally decided I would bring it up with my doctor, and after over a year of horrible insurance wrangling I finally ended up with a consult in early January, and then suddenly they called me back and said they could squeeze me in by the end of the month.

January 30th I got up at early-o-clock, went to the hospital, met my surgery team, got knocked out, and woke up with a new chest. I'm really glad I didn't have to travel for surgery and was back home that evening. Between that and having two partners (one of whom has had top surgery himself) to care for me afterwards, I feel really grateful.

Anyway yeah, this was the most significant surgery I've had before. It was your standard double incision, although I opted to go without nipple grafts, for a couple reasons:

I had heard that nips were kind of tricky healing-wise, and as a health-anxiety-prone kind of person I didn't really need the extra fear of something going wrong there in my life.

Especially because I didn't have any particular attachment to the idea of nipples in the first place. Sometimes I wonder if this was an extension of wearing a vaguely skin-tone binder for the past decade+. Any time I saw myself with a flattened chest, it was without nipples, because they were being hidden by the binder ha.

Additionally, a thing I've struggled with wrt medical transition is that it often feels like the goal for my agab is to transition towards masculinity, and while I'm okay being mistaken as male (especially over being mistaken as female) it's actually kind of important to me that I'm...not male? Masculinity as gender neutrality is something that really irritates me. I'm not any flavor of trans guy. So going no-nips felt like a way to make a conscious change to my body that was perpendicular to the masculinity/femininity binary.

And finally, while exploring the concept I found out that some people really hate the idea of people transitioning to having nippleless chests, because to be human is to have nipples (I guess?) so removing your nipples was trying to remove yourself from humanity (I??? guess???) and while there's a LOT to unpack there, as someone with only a passing identification with the concept of humanity I found this appealing in a "don't threaten me with a good time" kind of way.

Maybe I'll just get tattoos of wasps there instead.

The first time I saw myself at my first post-op was like--my chest is covered in incisions and tape and dried blood and marker and swelling but somehow it was still the most comfortable and appealing thing I had ever seen, and I keep feeling kind of amazed? I think that I had been really focused on like, specific Things I Could Do Post-Top Surgery, like wearing better-fitting T-shirts or taking my shirt off during the summer when it was hot, and I didn't fully realize just how...good it would be just existing? At first I thought it was hyperbolic thinking, but the more I consider it the more I feel that I've spent more time voluntarily looking at and interacting with my chest in the past month than I have the whole rest of my life. Some of it was forced aftercare from the surgery of course, but I lose a bunch of time each day just getting caught in front of mirrors. I didn't realize that I could like the way I look under my clothing so much.

And things like, realizing I've been saying "my chest [euphemistic, regretful]" in regards to my breasts my whole life, so I keep wanting to say "I don't have a chest anymore"--but the thing is, I do! I do have a chest still, and "my chest" is now something I feel happy to claim because I got to choose it. It's a little ouchy and lumpy and at the moment it looks like someone taped poison ivy to it because my skin finally got sick of the surgery tape and staged a revolt, but it's still the best chest I've had in living memory, and it's only going to get better from here.

I'm just really happy.

[fiveredlights]

Okay I need to know things from literally ALL of the wip’s 😂

But I guess the ones that intrigue me the most are the post AUS2024 fic, the alternate Vegas 2023 story and the lmao daniel retirement fic!!

But like I said, I want to know all things lol! You are like one of my favourite authors ❤️

P.S. please feel no pressure to update, write or anything. Take your time

beth you ask and i will dutifully answer, gonna put everything under the cut because this is a long post 🫡

snippets: ausgp 2024/you're on another path

so fun fact about this one i wrote it post quali, and i had planned to post it after the race was done so i a "pre-wrote" two endings. i wasn't going to because i was gonna be like "oh max will win but something bad might happen to daniel" so i had this ready to go:

and i was sitting in the grandstand watching max's car explode in the pitlane and all i could think about was "did i do this. again" and honestly who knows.

Daniel’s already lying down face first on the bed when Max makes it back to their hotel room. He’s been doing it a lot recently after races, opening the door to their hotel room and just starfishing on the bed, unmoving until Max gently coaxes him to actually sleep. 

God, if his twenty-something year old self could see him now. 

Yeah, you’re back at the team you started with—no not HRT, that’s gone now, yes the Red Bull—not junior—sister team. The Red Bull seat? Yeah, not yours anymore, and it’s looking like it’s gonna stay that way. No, no podium at your home race, more like qualifying P18 because you were an idiot and drove over track limits. Points? Well, you had a good chance but I guess luck just wasn’t on your side yet again. 

Oh, and that young and upcoming driver from the Netherlands? Yeah, he’s your boyfriend now—surprise, you’re gay! And he’s a three time world champion, but that’s probably not important. 

Any one of those things would’ve sent Daniel into hospital, but all of those things combined? 

Early death. 

snippets: las vegas 2025/bonus fic reimagined

(i'm going to assume you mean las vegas 2025 and i'll give you both)

Max isn’t winning right now. 

He couldn’t really tell you why. 

Plenty of pundits, fans, strangers on the street have stopped him and asked him to dissect why he hasn’t won a championship in the past two years. He gives them a hastily PR trained and approved answer that seems to be more conscious in his mind now than before and cracks a well timed joke he’s sure his teammate would be proud of. 

Then Daniel comes along and will say, “Max already has three, he’s got to leave some for the rest of us!”, and the conversation will usually move on quickly after that. 

He knows that Daniel isn’t the sole reason for his non-winning ways right now, but when the eventual news of their relationship happens to drop, there’ll be dissections for days on if Daniel plays a part in Max’s performance right now. 

The last time Max hadn’t won a championship was when Daniel Ricciardo was with Red Bull, surely there’s some connection there?

snippets: las vegas 2025/don't read the last page

(Max is italics, Daniel is not.)

Max 🩵

July 31, 2025

...

I may have accidentally 

I swear it was an accident 

Like I pinky promise swear to our first born child

Don’t bring Matilda into this

Did you murder someone

What

Why is that your first thing

You are making a big deal out of it

Like bigger than the podcast you did in January

So I have to assume you murdered someone

Okay well it’s not murder but nice to know you think I’m capable of it

Daniel

I forgot to take off my wedding ring and wore it in the paddock and people saw and I got asked about in the press conference 

They definitely thought I was just engaged so I guess that’s just a silver lining

And you have a bet with Lando over when I was going to accidentally do this

Which is rude because I would never do the same to you Maxy

You literally have a bet with Fernando over if I’m going to slip up and say husband in an interview

How do you know that

And he’s Fernando you know you can’t say no to him

Daniel

When you came out you literally posted a photo of me on your Instagram

The whole paddock knows we are married

Half of them went to our wedding

About 85% of fans think we are in a relationship because you keep on teasing them with photos that is definitely me

Is it so bad that we just say yeah we’re married

We are literally about to have a kid

Okay well when you put it like that

I guess you’re right 

I know

I’m always right

snippets: lmao daniel retirement

They asked him if he wanted a big farewell thing, like they had done with Sebastian and Kimi a couple years back. 

He’d almost said no until Lando pulled a face and said “Mate, people’s last memory of you driving can’t be you heading to the pitlane again.” 

So he agreed. Told Blake to tell them to keep it minimal. No standing on giant mockups of his face during the national anthem or whatever. 

[swearyshera]

So we are at the end of the road on something that has always been about the journey, not the destination.  I’ve taken my time to gather some thoughts.  This blog has meant a lot to many people, not the least of which is me.  I’ve had a hard time these last few years – I think it’s been hard times for everyone, in one way or another.  Personally, I seem to remember discovering this blog not too long before I had a breakdown and handled it very poorly, making bad decisions that cost me a lot of friends, or at least people whom I thought were my friends up until a breaking point.  (Your blog was unrelated to this).  When I came out of hospitalization I had a few things to rely upon – a video therapy group was one, certain family members and, well, as silly as it sounds, hitting up tumblr for my daily dose of Sweary She-Ra to make me laugh. And then in mid-January, 2023, one of the people who was closest to me in my entire life died suddenly of technically unknown cause but considering his health issues, probably a heart-issue. It was sudden and devastating.  We shared She-Ra and the Princesses of Power together because he was kind of curious about it and I was a nostalgia-fan of the ‘80s series.  We both became massive fans of Entrapta.  In fact, my nephew / best friend got me into the fandom in the first place because he had a silly idea for a fanfic about Entrapta wrecking havoc in the Fright Zone just post first-season and had little confidence in his fanfic writing, but decided to pass along said idea to me, an inveterate fic-writer for many fandoms.  I was put through the wringer this year – it’s the first time I’ve been in partial charge of a memorial service.  I am feeling better now than I did at the beginning of this year because I’ve found the strength to keep doing things that he and I liked to do together and time helps.  And again, in all of this, I had a silly little comic where a sparkly purple princess calls people “twattingler,” others make liberal use of the word that originally meant Fornication Under Consent of the King, one character swears all the time but apologizes for it, one character is contractually obligated to use Ned Flanders style cursing and there’s a fourth wall breaker and an incompetent boss with indecipherable accent and Marxist unicorns and all the rest.  No matter what was happening with my emotions I could just… take a little break and look at the funny fancomic.  Sweary She-Ra for me has been like a warm mug of tea on a cold day or a bowl of baked macaroni and cheese with a butter-cracker crust made out of the old 1960-70 something Betty Crocker cookbook.  It’s been Internet comfort food that has been sorely needed at times.  So thank you.  I just want to thank you for this funny little fan project.  I don’t think you have any idea how much it has meant to your audience.  @freedfromthegalactichivemind

And I don't know if the audience has any idea how much it has meant to me!

When I started this, things were pretty shit, weren't they? Here in the UK we'd just come out of the second Covid Lockdown, with the third expected to happen imminently; the weather was miserable, we'd barely seen our friends in months, the world in general just sucked. And I'd love to say that I felt a calling to break through that with some humour, but no... it was nothing like that. This is what happened...

And so it all went from there.

I almost just went for random scenes as I thought of them, rather than starting from the beginning. But I thought "Eh, fuck it, let's see how far I get", and the rest is history.

Even as the storylines got more complex (bear in mind, I started purely with the intention to do the original script with a few swear words peppered in), I always wanted to keep things upbeat. The painful moments are those 'this is the good stuff, hurt me more' moments rather than actually horrifying things - I know there's been a couple of exceptions, but in general it's held true.

But I've always been driven by one thing - the world isn't very funny right now; it's stressful, sometimes downright terrifying. And if I can alleviate that for ten, twenty seconds per day and make that tiny bit of difference to someone, then I consider that a job done. I'm not out here claiming to have the cure for depression, or some kind of plan to save the world, but I (hopefully) can make a few people smile in the midst of all the shit that's happening, even if it's just for a moment.

So much has changed in the last three years, but this blog has been such a central part of my world, it'll be weird when it's over (maybe that's why I don't want to stop there!). But if this coming Friday really is the last chapter in this part of my life, I'll still be happy that it happened. And if you've ever smiled or laughed at the blog, I'm happy that happened as well.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

feed me, stephie

LOVELY I am SO glad whenever you give me an open-ended request, because when I run out of lists that are ready for asks I've gotten, I can instead use one of my already-ready-with-no-ask fic lists instead, LOL... THANK YOU!!

Are ya hungry for some John Angst today? I think that's what I'm gonna feed ya! Hope you're hungry, it's a big one!

Apologies, there ARE some FFNet fics on here... that's how long I've had this list waiting to be posted LOL.

I hope you enjoy, Blue!!

JOHN 3rd PERSON POV Pt. 3: ANGST / ANGSTY FLUFF or BAMF FICS

See Also:

POV John First/Second Person Pt. 1

POV John 3rd Person Pt 1: Fluff, Humour & PWP

POV John 3rd Person Pt 2: Whump & Hurt/Comfort

Too Much by belovedmuerto (T, 567 w., 1 Ch. || Empath AU ||  Empath John, Mild Angst, Cuddles) – Sometimes, it's too much for John.

Five Seconds by xXLadyLovelaceXx (K+, 658 w., 1 Ch. || TGG Pool Scene, Friendship, Introspection) – In the half-second before Sherlock shoots the jacket, John notices something.

Tea by Art and Soul (K, 693 w., 1 Ch. || Angst & Friendship, Reunion) – John’s habit of making tea for two has little use, considering his flat-mate has been dead for three years. But he keeps on making that second cup, hoping he’d wake up and it’d be gone. But it never was…

The Sidewalk by politewarning (K, 956 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Angst, Friendship, Sherlock’s Birthday) – Standing on the sidewalk outside the hospital on the 6th of January to have a one-sided conversation with his dead friend was not something John had intended to make into a ritual.

Booted by Sexxica (E, 1,175 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped, Kidnapping, Handcuffs, Biting Kink, Blow Jobs, Coming in Pants, Tight Spaces, Humour, Smut, 69 Sex Position, BJ’s Through Pants) – John and Sherlock have been kidnapped, handcuffed, and stuffed together in a car boot. How come they can never take these situations seriously? Part 3 of the Tumblr Ficlets Gone Wild

Shooter by Amputation (K+, 1,406 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Suspense, BAMF!John) – The men were trying to rile the other into acting first, it seemed. How boringly predictable and dull this was! 

Risotto by Richefic (K+, 2,153 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Angst, Misunderstandings, Apologies) – The first time that John cooks dinner for Sherlock is almost the last. Fortunately, Sherlock is really quite observant. Inspired by John's reference in "The Great Game" to there being some leftover risotto in the fridge.

A Room of One's Own by whitchry9 (K+, 2,174 w., 5 Ch. || S2 Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Coma, John Whump, Worried Sherlock, POV John, Angst, Friendship/Bromance, Hospital) – When a severe head injury lands John in a coma, somehow he ends up in Sherlock's mind palace. It's actually pretty nice there, and John is entertaining the notion of staying there, rather than returning to his broken body. But Sherlock isn't taking it as well, and John can feel him breaking around him.

Those Days by StillWaters1 (T, 2,663 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD / Sensory Attacks, Caring Sherlock) – If Sherlock had danger nights, then these were John's danger days.

BBCSH ‘Lament’ by tigersilver (T, 2,951 w., 1 Ch. || Implied Infidelity, Angst, Post-HLV, Canon Divergence) – When Sherlock is alone in the flat he still speaks to John Watson.

Undercurrents by entanglednow (E, 2,996 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Disturbing Things, Crime Scene Fetish, Pseudo-Necrophilia, PWP, Masturbation) – “There, that's it, perfect, shut your eyes and don't move - and don't speak."

Until the End of the World by SarahCat1717 (G, 3,049 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, First Kiss, Pining Sherlock, Oblivious John, Drunkenness) – Taking place in Season 3, John listens to an old favourite song and sorts through his memories and feelings about Sherlock and Mary.

Fortune Favours the Wet by CaffieneKitty (K+, 3,668 w., 1 Ch. || Adventure, Trapped John, Mild Peril) – There was something to be said about the quiet of the bottom of a well... Things go wrong for John during a case.

Because Your Coat is Part of You by camellialice (K, 3,705 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and 1, Canon Compliant, Sherlock’s Coat, Angsty Fluff) – Five times John wore Sherlock's coat and one time he didn't need to.

The Dance Lesson by bittergreens (G, 4,596 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Missing Scene, Dancing, Pining Sherlock, URT/UST, Romance, Angst, POV John) – Sherlock teaches John to dip. Part 1 of Goodnight, Vienna

Wasted Hours by songlin (E, 4,973 w., 1  Ch. || Omegaverse || O!John/A!Sherlock, Pining, UST, Angst & Porn) – John is respectful. John keeps his distance. He doesn’t look at Sherlock when Sherlock decides trousers are for dull people. He doesn’t breathe in and savor it when Sherlock flings himself onto the couch first thing in the morning, wafting alpha scent, dressing gown settling around him in a cloud of blue silk. He doesn’t linger when he’s piecing Sherlock back together after a fight, even though he’s half-dressed and beautiful and right there. He can ignore it. He can control it.

A Case of Identity by PostcardsfromTheoryland (T, 4,978 w., 1 Ch. ||  Post-TRF, John on Holiday, Pining Sherlock, Whump, Angst, Reunion) – All John wanted was to get away from London for a few weeks. No people pointing and whispering about Sherlock Holmes when he walked past, no reporters wanting an "exclusive" about the dead detective, just some rest and relaxation in the sunshine. Then again, these holiday trips never seem to go as planned.

Electric Potential by pygmymeese (T, 5,011 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural) – It's not clear why everyone in the world suddenly gets a ghost only they can interact with. All John Watson knows is that he's stuck with a brilliant, if smug, ex-consulting detective, and that life is definitely looking up.

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe (G, 5,504 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Stabbed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Panic Attack (Sherlock), Self Esteem Issues, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When John moves back to 221B, he thinks he’s the broken one, but after a while, it becomes clear that he might not be correct.

Excerpts from Purgatory by reapersun, what_alchemy (E, 5,829 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Doctor John, Reunion Fic, Rough Sex, Angry Sex, Bottomlock, Fic with Pics)  – John serves community service in homeless shelters for chinning the superintendent. Unbeknownst to him, the Homeless Network has his back.

This Year by DiscordantWords (T, 6,283 w., 2 Ch. || TEH Divergence / No Mary, New Year’s Eve, John’s A Mess, Jealous John, Awkward Conversations, Trapped in a Closet, Estranged After Return, John POV, Semi-Reunion, Angry John, First Kiss, Reconciliation, Clueless Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Last year, Sherlock Holmes showed up at the Landmark with a fake moustache and a bad French accent and threw John's entire life into disarray with two words: "Not dead." This year, there are more surprises in store.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do. If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

Second Waltz by Atiki (T, 6,685 w.,1 Ch. || MCD, Angst, Fluff, Cancer) – "The night I died, you wished I could wait for you."

A Kiss and a Cuddle should be Sufficient by Evenlodes_Friend (E, 6,853 w.,  3 Ch.|| Gay Sex Club, Fake Relationship, PWP, Orgies, Rimming, BJ’s, Violence, Case Fic, Voyeurism) – Going undercover, Sherlock and John pursue a vicious killer to a gay group sex party. Not unexpectedly, things get a little out of hand. Set after Baskerville, but before the Fall.

Hide and Seek by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 6,934 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Reverse Reichenbach, Mycroft is a Dick, Depression, Case Fic, Friendship, Reunion) – Pseudo sequel to "The Refining Fire." "You owe him the truth, and you owe me the proof that will convince him that I had no part in this."

High and Tight, Soft and Loose by cwb (E, 7,429 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, Miscommunications / Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time, BAMF John, Insecure Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock, Junk Size, UST / RST) – John pressed the knuckle of his index finger against his mouth and sighed. “So, you're coiled like a spring and ready to be ... sprung?” “If you want to be pedestrian about it, yes.” “Like I said, you should do something about that.” “And like I said, pedestrian. What would you have me do? Take up jogging? Yoga? Oh! Unless you mean –” “I don't mean anything. Let’s drop it.”

I can’t pretend by Salambo06 (E, 7,692 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Victor Trevor, Jealous John, Miscommunications, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Anal, BJs) – They had arrived more than a hour ago, and the moment they had walked inside the hotel reception, John had understood why Sherlock hadn’t wanted to come. Two men, posh suits and expensive watches on their wrists, had come to greet them with sharp remarks and badly hidden mockery, and John had seen red. Sherlock hadn’t said anything, mostly ignoring the two men entirely, and without thinking twice about it, John had slid an arm around Sherlock’s waist and introduced himself as his husband. 

Alone On the Water by Mad_Lori (G, 7,725 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, UST/URT, Angst, Euthanasia, Love Confessions) – Sherlock Holmes never expected to live a long life, but he never imagined that it would end like this.

Victim, Bait, Hero, Friend by KimberlyTheOwl (T, 7,887 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Epilogue, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Past Kidnapping / Torture / Implied Rape, Panic Attacks, Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Lestrade is a Good Friend) – Some insights into why John was perfectly willing to throw everything away for a chance to kill Moriarty at the pool. Trauma, ugliness, and finally healing. Some nice supporting work by Lestrade as well.

Every Night I Look for You by destinationtoast (E, 8,377 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Post-TRF, Angst, Mystery, Unsafe Sex, BAMF John) – Every night, John looks for familiar hints of Sherlock in the men he meets in bars, and he does with them all the things he wishes he’d done before. Eventually, he stumbles into a situation that Sherlock would know how to handle, and John must decide whether he can handle it without him.

Beyond the Vow by tunteeton (M, 8,994 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-S3, Explosions, Mary is Good-ish?, 3G, Infant Death) – Being a sociopath was never this emotionally exhausting. 

The Frost Child by twistedthicket1 (M, 9,994 w., 2 Ch. || Frozen-ish AU || Magical Realism, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Powerful John) – In a world where people are born with a Gift of varying levels, simple John Watson is the last person one might look at when thinking of any strong Magick capabilities. Hiding comfortably in the shadow of Sherlock's brilliant deducing abilities, John is content to keep it that way...

Ravish Me by amalnahurriyeh (E, 10,025 w., 1 Ch. || UST / RST, Makeup / Lipstick, Sympathetic Sally, Experiments, Pining John, First Kiss, Face Fucking / BJ’s, Cuddling) – Sherlock is experimenting with patterns of wear on lipstick in daily encounters. John is going to go insane.

Paparazzi by SilentAuror (E, 10,543 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Friends to Lovers) – John moves back into 221B Baker Street after his marriage falls apart and the paparazzi won't leave him and Sherlock alone about the status of their supposed relationship. Sherlock, of course, never denies it, until one day he does...

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

The Red Dianthus by kinklock (T, 11,382 w., 3 Ch. || Supernatural Elements, BAMF!John, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Romance, Halloween, Dev. Rel., Case Fic) – The boys investigate a mysterious disappearance in a supposedly haunted house, and get much more than they bargained for.

The River Variations by withoutawish (T, 11,619 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmates, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Three Garridebs, Romance, Light Case Fic, Near Death Experience, Angst and Fluff, Dark Humour) – John Watson never knew that he wanted a ‘no toast in the mornings’ normal until he realized what an honor it is to be destroyed by Sherlock Holmes.

Johnlock Ficlet Collection by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 11,505+ w., 16/? Ch. || WiP || Random Ficlets, Pining, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Parentlock, AU’s, First Kiss, Character POV’s) - Just a collection of Johnlock ficlets, originally posted on my Tumblr page.

I See You Through by belovedmuerto (T, 12,078 w., 8 Ch. || Psychic AU || Empath John, Alternate TGG, Whump, Nightmares, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn, Pre-Slash) – John has never asked Sherlock about his past, his childhood, the reason he quails in lonely misery almost every time he sees his brother. He’s never needed to. Part 2 of An Experiment in Empathy

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, POV John, Phone Sex, Texting, Masturbation, Long Distance, Drunk Texting) – What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once:  Flirting. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

I'm content as we are (but) by inqui (The_Circus) (E, 13,086 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, UST/RST, Pining, Victor Trevor, Minor Whump, First Kiss / Time, Misunderstandings) – In which John Watson sees something unusual, becomes jealous, and makes too much of a small thing as an old friend of Sherlock's shows up in the middle of a case.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

Speaker for the Bees by antietamfalls (M, 14,649 w., 3 Ch. || Deaf Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Sign Language) – It isn't always easy assisting a deaf detective. Luckily for John, they make a pretty good team.

Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E, 15,139 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Christmas, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Angst & Fluff, BJ’s, Anal) – John is invited to his aunt's Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John's family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock.

Lacuna by coloredink (E, 15,607 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Consent Issues, Drama, Amnesia) – God, it must have been terrible, to think that he would never have this again.

A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E, 16,825 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, POV John, Pining John, Cruise Ship, Angst & Fluff, Case Fic) –  John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica

Best of Three by SilentAuror (E, 17,473 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, John is Shot, Porn with Feels, Post HLV, Rimming, Denial, Anal) – “You want to have sex with me,” Sherlock announces one evening about a year after John's divorce. John's vigorous denial sparks a three-day wager wherein Sherlock is determined to prove his point, and John is determined to hold onto his heterosexuality. Set well after HLV. (Canon-compliant). PORN. With feels.

Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

Vena Cava by SilentAuror (E, 27,452 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fix-It, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Infidelity) – Sherlock has been shot in the chest; John has been shot in the heart. Though everything is broken, they do their best to heal the wounds that Mary left on them both.

Silhouettes by allonsys_girl (E, 28,585 w., 7 Ch. || Canon Compliant, POV John, Heavy Drinking, Sad/Depressed John, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, Foot Jobs, Blow Jobs, Infidelity, Cheating, Drug Use/Abuse, Anal, Switchlock, Rimming, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John find comfort in each other's arms, but as ever with these two, it's not your typical relationship. It's fluffy at the beginning, gets deeply angsty in the middle, gets porny at the end.

"finally kiss the bloody idiot" by Salambo06 (E, 29,812 w., 13 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Fake Relationship, First Kiss / Time, Angst, Misunderstandings, Fantasies, POV John) – Inspired by a fic idea on tumblr : "John and Sherlock know the Yard has a pool going for when they’re finally going to get together. It’s been running forever, and it’s worth thousands of pounds. It’s all fun and games, hahaha, until they find out Lestrade is in dire financial straits (dog needs emergency surgery, he’s putting his kid through gymnastics training, I don’t know, something), and they decide to fake a relationship to win the pool for him. Sherlock figures out the day and way that Lestrade thinks it’s going to happen, and they act it out. It’s all for a good cause, fake relationship style, until it’s not." Part 1 of The Pool

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION|| Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

The Curious Adventure of the Drs. Watson by ShinySherlock (M, 40,883 w., 14 Ch. || BBC & ACD Fusion || Victorianlock, Time Travel / Magical Realism, Friends to Lovers, Love and Kissing, Romance, Body Swap) – What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places...  “Imposter!” Hands clenching the lapels of John’s coat, Holmes shoved him anew. “Yes!” John agreed, nodding, and then grimacing. “Sort of!”

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways, Needy Sherlock, Wings) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

Left by lifeonmars (M, 45,153 w., 9 Ch. || Magical Realism, BAMF!John, Slow Burn) – John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Fan Mail by scullyseviltwin (E, 53,942 w., 15 Ch. || Stalking, Obsessive Fans, Angst) – “WatsonChick143 has been rather maniacal in her commenting as of late… she’s left comments on everything you’ve posted John, something so obvious can’t have escaped even your attention."

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

You Might Just as Well Be Blind by ArwaMachine (E, 56,625 w., 12 Ch. || Fake Relationship, For a Case, Bed Sharing, Platonic Cuddling, Jealous Sherlock, Oblivious John, BAMF Hudders, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Case Fic, Flirting, Pining John, POV John, Toplock, Possessive Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Infidelity) – When a serial killer starts targeting couples, Sherlock and John must do what they have to do in order to get to the bottom of things. Unfortunately, John already has a girlfriend. Surely pretending to be in a relationship with Sherlock won't pose any problems with his relationship, will it?

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets,  Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autism-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

A Cure For Boredom by emmagrant01 (E, 81,665 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Talk, Threesomes, Light Dom/Sub, Sex Club, Experiments, Anal, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming, Cheeking, Double Penetration, Mild Kink, Porn Watching, Voyeurism, Masturbation) – They’d never talked about sex in the year they’d known each other. Well, that wasn’t quite correct: Sherlock had never said a word about sex; John had bemoaned his personal dearth of it on many occasions.

A Case of Identity by jkay1980 (T, 91,009 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Fake Relationship, Case Fic) – John and Sherlock have succeeded in rebuilding their friendship after Sherlock’s fake suicide, but an unusual case puts their relationship to the test. They pretend to be engaged and attend a marriage counseling workshop. Under the pretext of the case, Sherlock turns out to be a master of seduction, and John finally learns he might like Sherlock more than he thought. Slowly, John discovers that he loves Sherlock not only in a friendly, brotherly way, but both men have to fight their own demons before they can think of taking their relationship to a new level…

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w., 71 Ch. || Future AU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say: Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence / Post-TRF / S3 Rewrite, John’s Sexuality, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, Gay John) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w., 13 Ch. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatize to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,869 w., 26 Ch. || Omegaverse / Prime Universe Crossover || OmegaJohn / AlphaSherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, Humour) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[queeniecook]

January 21

Rashidah has a day to herself for the first time in weeks. Her brother and sister are in school. Her Mom is in Sulani and the farm chores are done. She decides to go for a drive and ends up at a spot she used to hang out in high school - the mini mall in Newcrest. She sees Rahul the moment she walks in. She honestly isn't surprised to see him there, it is his favorite pizza place after all.

"Hey." He says quietly, making eye contact for a brief moment before looking off to the side. It's weird seeing her. They used to see each other almost everyday and then his Aunt had an affair with her Dad and it just went downhill after that.

Before Rashidah can even reply, Andrew is speaking "Dude, you gonna share that or just hold it forever?" He asks, referring to the twinkie his friend holds in his hand. They had ordered a pizza fifteen minutes ago but the lady who was supposed to be cooking it had sat down beside them and decided to talk to another customer. Good thing they hadn't paid yet. 

Rahul snaps out of his emotions and makes eye contact with Andrew before shoving the entire twinkie in his mouth.

"Jerk." Andrew comments before looking at Rashidah. "Please ignore this ape's manners. Hi, I'm Andrew Ambrose."

Rashidah offers the man a brief smile. Ambrose, she wonders if he's related to Jillian Ambrose. "Hello. I'm Rashidah Watson." She greets him before looking back at her ex-boyfriend who is trying to chew the twinkie in his mouth without making a giant mess. "I need to talk to you actually...you know, when you're done with your quest to conquer twinkies." 

Two minutes later...

"What's up?" Rahul asks, he decides to actually maintain eye contact this time. It would be rude to look at her stocking hat or the snow outside while he's talking to her. It's hard though, he used to love her face now it brings an ache to his heart.

"One of our chicken coops at the farm needs some repair and...well my Mom is out of town and I'm not handy at all..." She pauses, releasing a breath. Her Dad used to do all these things. Her Dad. The man who had an affair with Rahul's Aunt. That situation led to young couple breaking up. Once the news came out of the affair, all the couple did was fight. "Would you be able to look at it? We'd pay you." 

"I'll do it but you don't have to pay me." Rahul tells her. Truth be told, he has regret when it comes to how things ended with the girl in front of him. He shouldn't have supported his Aunt but he felt he had to, since she took over raising him after his Mom passed away. If he can help her and her family out someway, he's happy to do it. 

"Rahul..." Rashidah starts, shaking her head. 

"It's cool, I'm happy to help. Really." He tells her with a small smile. To his relief, Rashiah finally relents and nods her head in acceptance. 

"Wanna join us, Rashidah?" a voice calls out to them both. The duo had forgotten Andrew was even there. 

The cook had finally went back to make their pizza. Normally Rashidah would just leave but she has to admit, it's kind of nice to be around people her own age again. Andrew is happy she's joined them as well, he thinks she's pretty and funny. It's been a rough few days. He hates that he was out of town when his sister gave birth to his nephew and that they almost lost them both from what his Dad said. He's tried to make up for his absence by going to see Jillian and Slade in the hospital everyday.

"Anchovies on pizza are nasty." Rashidah comments after Andrew asks her what topping she thinks should not go on pizza. He nods his head in agreement, while Rahul pulls up a chair to their table. 

"Pineapple too." Rahul says, hiding a smirk. 

"You leave my pineapple alone!" Rashidah says, fake glaring at him. 

Most people would piece it together that maybe there was more to Rahul and Rashidah then friendship but Andrew doesn't see the signs.

"I like pineapple." Andrew says, granted he prefers it in a fruit bowl but he leaves it at that. Instead he clears his throat softly and takes his shot. "I know we just met but...Rashidah, would you like to do go out sometime?"

The silence descended until the cook slammed the oven door shut in the back of the kitchen.

"That's really sweet of you, Andrew." Rashidah starts. She feels bad she's about to turn him down. He seems like a cool guy. "I don't date. I have a lot going on with my family's farm and...I just don't have the time."

Both she and Andrew miss Rahul's shoulders sagging in relief beside them.

[dahliaduvide]

I've been digging into the life of Jeremy Wade Delle, beyond just the day of his death that is immortalized in the Pearl Jam song we all know so well.

One thing Jeremy Delle and I have in common is that we both spent time in a psych hospital in our teenage years. We both ended up in adolescent wards of large chain hospitals. My experience wasn't completely negative, but I don't think it helped anyone but my mother.

Jeremy Delle was hospitalized in April of 1990 after what is believed to have been his first suicide attempt.

His parents put him in Timberlawn Psychiatric Hospital where he started seeing a doctor that continued to treat him until his death by suicide on January 8, 1991. He actually had completed a session with his doctor the afternoon before he died.

The redacted police report gives only a small amount of information about the doctor that Jeremy Delle was seeing. His name is given as Dr. Bob H####, and as Dr. Robert H#### on a card that the police found in Mr. Delle's wallet. This card lists two phone numbers for the doctor. The first if the general number for the Timberlawn facility, but the other number is likely a direct line to the doctor's office.

The information given in the July 1990 list of hospitals printed in D Magazine, a local Dallas publication, about Timberlawn is "4600 Samuell Blvd, Dallas. 381-7181. Psychiatric hospital; 232 beds; offers chemical dependency treatment, occupational therapy, and psychiatric unit". That's the same as the first phone number listed on the card on Jeremy Delle's wallet card. The second is 381-6327.

Without a last name, I couldn't search for any other mentions of the doctor in public records (and I didn't find anything relevant using the phone number), but there were certainly a few articles about Timberlawn. More than a few, I had to winnow them down to the ones that seemed most relevant to what Jeremy Delle might have experienced during his stay there.

This article from June 1990 explains the sudden growth in the industry in Texas. The financial motivations behind it have very distinct consequences that the article outlines: patients rarely stay longer than their insurance foots the bill.

When the money runs out everyone- adult, teenager, addict, seems to be miraculously cured.

There are several claims of misconduct by care providers throughout the time surrounding Jeremy Delle's stay at Timberlawn.

May 1988: A Dallas woman is admitted to the substance abuse program at Timberlawn. In February 1996, when she is in her early 30s, she alleges misconduct by her doctor during her stay at Timberlawn.

May 1991: In March 1993, a patient alleges he was pursued by his doctor after seeking treatment at Timberlawn for depression after the end of his marriage. He also alleges that she initiated an inappropriate romantic and sexual relationship which lasted from November 1991 to February 1992.

Obviously, Mr. Delle would have been, or at least should have been, housed in separate adolescent areas from any adult patients, but he might have seen the same doctors. Particularly because he was treated for substance abuse. I have some doubts about whether he was actually using any drugs or not, but I'll put that together in another post with some supporting documents.

I also found these court documents from 2009 relating to a patient that was hospitalized in the Timberlawn facility as a minor. She claims to have been raped by an older male patient due to inadequate supervision of the patients by staff and a lack of private space available to patients. No dates or ages are given, however, so it's impossible to know if this happened within the early 90s. However, if Jeremy Delle had survived until 2009 he would have been in his mid-20s, which is when childhood traumas begin to be understood by a maturing mind.

I'm not a lawyer and couldn't even pretend to be one on the internet, so I won't claim to understand anything about what is happening, but I can read through it and capture other facts about who, where, when, etc. If anybody with a better understanding of USA or Texas state law wants to shed some light on this that would be helpful.

I wasn't able to find any further information about the progress or outcomes of these cases, so I've chosen not to include the names of the staff accused, but they are included in the media coverage if anyone would like to search through news databases that aren't freely available online. I can only research the documents I can find, and unfortunately I don't have access to any academic databases at the moment, either.

My personal opinion is that whatever started Jeremy Delle down a troubled path started before he got to Timberlawn and the care of Dr. H.

I do think this line of research is important for understanding whether or not Mr. Delle received effective or adequate care as his mental illness spiraled out of control.

It strikes me that these stories about Timberlawn confirm and debunk some of the conceptions we have about this particular young man's life from the song written about him in 1991 by Eddie Vedder and Jason Ament. Jeremy Wade Delle was failed by everyone in his life with the power to help him as he started to sink under the waves of his illness. But his parents didn't ignore it completely, they tried to get him help. Maybe not when his illness first manifested, but as soon as his first 'cry for help' came in the form of a suicide attempt, they put him in a hospital that was known to be the best in their area. One with a developing, supposedly cutting edge, program for adolescents and those suffering from substance abuse. They most likely brought him home when the hospital said he was better. Sadly that might have had more to do with how long the hospital knew that insurance would foot the bill and not Mr. Delle's actual mental health.

The story is no less tragic than the story Pearl Jam spins in their song, but it's far more nuanced.

And it's still a great song.

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Of Constant Sorrow

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  The Boys

Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Rating:  Mature

Synopsis: The after-the-fact deposition of the nurse brought in to care for a certain explosively hot patient.

Tags:  Solider Boy, Ben O'Connell, Original Female Character, Billy Butcher, Grace Mallory, Starlight, Annie January, Hughie Campbell, MM, Marvin Milk, Frenchie, Serge Cassell, Kimiko Miyashiro, Original Male Character, Unethical Experimentation, Unethical Medicine, Canon Divergence, AU, No Good Answers

AN:  Content warning -- unironic use of racial slurs.

This was actually my mother's idea-- my mom spent twenty years as a home health aide who specialized in elder care. She and I got to speculating on how someone might connect with Soldier Boy even in his vulnerable state at the end of S3, and this is how I ran with her idea. Factual errors are mine; I'm not a medial professional. Songs are, "Ship of Fools," by Bob Seger, "Man/Maid of Constant Sorrow," by Dick Burnett, "My Favorite Dream," by Bill Walsh and Ray Noble (the magic harp's lullaby from 'Mickey and the Beanstalk'), and "Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral (An Irish Lullaby)," by James Royce Shannon. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any trademarks or copyrights. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and is protected by Fair Use.

---

Data classified Top Secret/eyes only under authority of case officer Mallory

Interrogation session 8 re case Solider Boy. Subject: DePoister, Charlotte, captain, USA.

WB: We recording? Right, this can go all sorts of ways, love-- CD: You can knock off the intimidation schtick. I can see how sick you are. You should be in a hospital.

HC: He's been doing a lot better lately-- how can you tell? CD: Because it's my damn job, jackass.

WB: Don't you worry 'bout me. I'm sound as a pound. MM: Okay, let's not get sidetracked. Tell us about how you got hired to be Solider Boy's nurse. CD: I'm a Supe-- super-ability immunity to poisons and radiation. However, I’m not indestructible. I didn't even get super healing. I cut, I bruise, I bleed, I break. I age. At least my sister went gray first. Take that, ya brat. I turned down Vought and enlisted, got trained as a combat medic and went to college for my nursing degree after I was wounded in the line of duty. Immunity to poisons is a great thing to have for a first responder.

HC: Wait-- I thought the Army banned Supes. AJ: Supes that are the property of Vought are barred from serving. People with super-abilities aren’t. CD: Right. Given a choice, most Supes pick Vought because the money is a lot better. My dad never did forgive me for turning them down. I could be rich'n'famous right now. Decontamination Charlotte, complete with sequined “HazMat” suit with florescent Fuck Me boots. Instead I picked Uncle Sam, like an idiot. I came out of the Army with a captain’s commission, an RN license, and an average of about four nightmares a month. Anyway. Colonel Mallory came to me herself after the incident at Vought Tower. She explained the situation and pointed out my sister's six-figure tax debt thanks to her idiot husband's house-flipping business and how she could make it go away. That’s pretty much how I ended up taking what was basically an orderly’s job in that spick-and-span underground Purgatory. Nasogastric feeding tube in one end, Foley catheter in the other, and between the two a living body that still needed things like bathing and haircuts and whatnot. The Russians were clever to keep him in an upright position. No pressure sores. Not that he’d be prone to them. --- You think you’re gonna get used to it, but you never really do, Charlotte remembered her practical instructor saying as she completed her unit in the chronic care building at Walter Reed. Ward 4, where long-term coma patients and people in persistent vegetative states lived out their lives until a merciful God called them home. Especially when the patients were healthy otherwise-- young, strong, people who should’ve been out in the sunlight.

With that Me Doctor You Nurse sneer some of them just seemed to have, Dr. Sanjeer briefed her on the acceptable baselines for the patient’s vital signs. “Any independent motion, no matter how minor, must be reported at once. When he was originally roused from captivity in Russia, he blasted through a reinforced concrete wall before he was fully conscious and oriented to time and place.”

“So we’re worried he might haul off and punch a hole in the world.”

“In brief, yes.”

“Great.” Not that the good doctor was worried, from the other side of a camera feed in a laboratory in a completely different part of the facility. Leave the cleanup to Charlotte. Decontamination Charlotte, the filth doesn’t touch her in a bad place.

The containment capsule opened with a sigh of equalizing air pressure. Up close the wrong feeling was worse. White adult male, bearded, mass 85 kilos, height 185 centimeters, beautifully cut muscles, broad shoulders, and long legs. Electrodes stuck to his temples and on his chest fed data to the containment capsule's monitors, with telemetry readings well within Dr. Sanjeer's provided baselines. The only concession to modesty was a drape over his groin, the line of a catheter running to a onboard reservoir. Urinalysis made for a crude substitute for a proper blood test but the needle hadn’t been invented yet that could pierce his skin. A breathing mask clamped over his face fed him air laced with the nerve agent keeping him . . . keeping him in some Supe-enabled state that wasn't quite comatose and wasn't quite dead.

"Hi. Ben, right?” she said.

Over the monitor Dr. Sanjeer's condescending frown deepened.

Charlotte wasn't fazed. Dr. Sanjeer's specialties were in genetics and biochemistry, not direct care. She'd lay money he'd never gone near a patient in his life-- not a human one anyway, he had the look of a monkey man. “His brain still works, right? He’s not an inanimate object. I refuse to treat him like one.

“Ben, my name is Charlotte DePoister. I’ll be your primary care nurse. You have a tube in your nose feeding you fluids and a catheter’s been inserted into your penis. I apologize if either feel uncomfortable. I’ll be in for four hour shifts every day at 0600 and 1800 to see to your physical needs, which will include moving your limbs to keep your muscles from atrophy, keeping you clean, reflex checks, and tactile stimulation tests. I’m going to put something in your hand to demonstrate." From her scrub top pocket, Charlotte pulled out a tennis ball. She took the unconscious Supe’s hand and shaped it into a cup, fitting the tennis ball down into it.

No response. His fingers were warm and totally lax.

“All right. I’m going to give you a quick bath with some dry shower cloths. Clever things, keep you almost as clean as a full sponge bath and a lot less labor intensive. Full baths are still on the agenda, every fifth day. I’ll wash your hair then too. Beard trims as needed, haircuts once a month, but I don’t manscape.”

Charlotte hummed as she worked on the heavy pile of inert tissue that might've had a man inside somewhere. Dr. Sanjeer watched with a look of greed on his face that made her uncomfortable. Reminding her that he saw her patient as a specimen.

At the end of her shift, she covered Ben with a light blanket and sealed the containment capsule. The air inside went misty as it pressurized and filled with the Novachik nerve agent. Carefully, with the thick plastic gloves built into the capsule, she removed the breathing mask. The pad beneath him activated to hold him in place and the capsule went into lateral rotation mode, rocking him side-to-side. A child in a cradle made of lead and poison. "See you this evening, Ben." --- MM: What were you told about the actual research going on? CD: Just broad strokes. The laboratories were all dedicated to studying him, trying to figure out how that radiation of his neutralizes super-abilities. I sat through a lot of meetings with lab coats pissing and moaning about not being able to access their specimen directly.

WB: And you never thought to ask where you fit into the master plan? Spending all day wiping Soldier Boy's arse you'd think you'd be a bit more inquisitive. CD: What do you want from me, you prick? I'm a soldier. My job's to execute orders and hope like hell the officers over me know what the fuck they're doing. You're military too, you should know that. In the day-to-day it was pure routine, like caring for any long-term coma patient. I’d clean him up at the start of my shift, do basic physiotherapy, provide sensory and tactile stimulation with things like soft toys. I read somewhere that he's a baseball fan, so I started playing the radio play-by-plays over the speaker in the containment capsule.

SC: Why even bother? What care does a monster like that warrant in light of the crimes he's committed? CD: Because he’s a person, no matter how horrible a person he is. Nobody deserves to be tortured with the effects of long-term immobility. “We must be what we are, else we become our enemies.” Historical fantasy. A Song For Arbonne. --- "I saw that one on the TV," Charlotte said as she scrubbed her patient’s hair. Soft and fine like her own and sweet with the mild smell of Johnson and Johnson No-Tears. "The home plate ump totally blew that call. Even I could see that wasn’t in the strike zone." Over the capsule’s speaker Dickerson called it-- White Sox over Tigers, 13-6. "Buncha dipshits this year. The Tigers haven’t been able to get shit done with Cabrerra out. I hope we haven’t lost him for the season."

No response from her patient.

Charlotte turned the game off and rinsed out the shampoo. Careful of the clamps holding the breathing mask, she used a little travel dryer on her patient’s hair, lifting the strands to get the cool air at the roots. She sang as she worked. "'Tell me quick,' said Old MacPhee, 'what's this all got to do with me? I spent all my time at sea, alone' . . ." --- MM: Let's get back on track. So you were taking care of Soldier Boy while he was . . . out. The nerve agent should've had him totally insensate. What happened to change that? CD: Either his body started adapting to the Novachik or someone was deliberately dialing back the concentration. Possibly both. --- "This is a ball of hemp cord, it should feel rough and abrasive against your skin." Charlotte lightly ran the stim object down his forearm and checked No Response. "What's on the agenda for today . . . oh it's everybody's favorite, Leg Day."

Talking through each flexation and extension, Charlotte moved each of her patient's legs through their full range of motion. "Everything's still moving the way it should be, big guy. You're not even losing muscle tone. Reflex test-- I'm going to run the tip of an ink pen along the sole of your foot."

Accustomed to days and days of the same thing, Charlotte didn't register at first what she was seeing. His foot flexed, curling into the touch of the ballpoint pen as she ran it up the arch. "Woah." She did it again. Another flex. This time, the muscle groups in his calf twitched, like he was trying to point his toes. Charlotte finally registered what it was that had put her on edge-- his pulse and breathing had sped up, just enough to be noticeable.

Dr. Sanjeer had been very clear on this point. Any indication that he might be coming out of his next-door-to-dead state rated a five-alarm panic. Instead, Charlotte squeezed his ankle. "It's okay. You're safe. It's just Charlotte, Ben. Flex your toes again if you can hear me."

Nothing. Involuntary reaction, nothing more. Just a sign that physiotherapy was in fact indicated. --- MM: The doctor told you to sound the alarm if he showed any signs of coming out of it. How come you didn't? CD: I didn't think it'd be in anybody's best interest to punch the panic button, least of all my patient's. I know you don't take the idea seriously, but part of my duty as his nurse is to be an advocate for his well-being.

AJ: He roasted Crimson Countess alive, he bashed Mindstorm's face in-- CD: Have you read his quote-unquote "service record"? His brilliant solution to the Korean conflict damn near started World War III. Under international law he's an unindicted war criminal. And I'm sure all of you have been hurt by him. Directly. At his hands. Making him suffer when he's helpless doesn't do a damn thing to balance those scales or prevent anyone else from getting hurt. Justice is a higher duty than our fucking feelings.

MM: Look, I used to be a corpman. Okay? I agree with you. Just tell us what happened next. CD: According to the EEG, he started cycling between normal periods of dreaming and non-dreaming sleep. They weren’t happy dreams either. His vital signs would start spiking right the fuck off the scale and the Geiger counter would start sounding like a electric woodpecker. Scared the shit out of me the first time it happened. I’m immune to the neurotoxin and the radiation, not to getting vaped or having a mountain dropped on me. --- Charlotte had gotten into the habit of keeping the containment capsule open while she was in the room with her patient. With the room itself isolated and her the only person allowed direct access, it just made her job easier not having to constantly pressurize and depressurize the damned thing. She'd also gotten into the habit of holding his hand for part of her shift. Sometimes there'd be a faint twitch. Nothing that could be misconstrued as deliberate, purposeful action. Once his hand had full-on clamped, just shy of enough force to crush the bones. Hurt like hell. Charlotte blessed the foresight that had made her use her left hand.

The day everything changed was another day exactly the same as all the rest. Charlotte had been catching up on the charting when an alarm on the telemetry monitor went off. The Geiger counter started ticketing away, as the needle rocked right into the red zone. The pump on the gas canisters under the containment capsule kicked on, upping the concentration of the nerve agent in his breathing mix. It wasn't working fast enough, Charlotte could see. His pulse had risen to 50 and the EEG showed highly active REM sleep. Dreaming sleep.

"Holy Mary mother of God you're having a nightmare," Charlotte said. She grabbed Ben's hand and put it over her heart. "Ben. Ben, it's okay! Whatever you're seeing's not real! It'll pass in a second! Calm down! It's not real!" Nothing. His eyes rolled under his closed eyelids and his heart rate continued to climb like the price on a gas pump-- 70, 80, 90 . . .

Charlotte put her lips next to Ben's ear and sang. "I . . . am a maid . . . of constant sorrow . . . I've seen trials for all my days. I'll say goodbye to California . . . the land where I was partly raised."

The motion behind his eyelids paused. Charlotte took a breath and went on, softer and tuneful. "Your friends may say that I’m a stranger, my face they'll never see no more. There is but one promise given, that I'll sail on God's golden shore." As she watched, Ben's vital signs held their plateau . . . and started to sink.

"Oh thank God," Charlotte sighed. "All through this world, I'm bound to ramble," she brushed a lock of Ben's hair back from his forehead. Odd that his ageless face should look careworn, that the eternally sleeping should look so damned exhausted. "Through sun and wind and driving rain. I'm bound to ride the western railway . . . perhaps I'll take the very next train." The image struck her then, Ben out in the world, dressed in clothes for the outdoors, sitting in the open door of a boxcar as it rolled from somewhere to somewhere. God, even jail would be better than this . . . living death.

"I am a maid of constant sorrow, I've seen trials all of my days," she reprised. There. His heart rate had reached it's normal resting pace, as the nerve agent did its work and put him more thoroughly under. "I'm going back to California," on impulse she kissed the back of his hand, "the land where I was partly raised." She laid Ben's arm back by his side.

"Sweet Jesus you scared me," she said into the silence. --- WB: So you just sung the cunt a lullaby, gave him a kiss like he was fucking Sleeping Beauty, and what, defused him? CD: It worked didn't it? The next time it happened, I took his hand and did the whole lullaby thing and he settled. Sanjeer speculated he was having flashback-powered nightmares, but he had already associated my voice with harmlessness so he was able to reality-check his way out of it without waking up. He said to continue as before. I was just glad to end each shift in one piece to be honest. What I didn't know was-- well you guys probably know more about that than I do. There were parties very interested in obtaining my patient who'd finally succeeded in fixing his location. They were trying to access him directly and remove him intact, without waking him up.

K, via interpreter: . . . she's asking why they didn't just come to you. CD: Lack of opportunity, probably. Like everybody else who knew about our payload, I lived onsite, my movements were restricted, and my activities were monitored. That I’m talking to you guys and not to yet another interrogation specialist says Colonel Mallory's already cleared me of any conspiracy. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life in 'protective custody' anyway, so pardon me if I forget my fucking manners.

AJ: Well maybe we can do something about that. CD: Hah. Don't write checks you can't cash. The thanks of a grateful nation amount to not putting me on trial for treason or espionage because that would involve admitting Soldier Boy's alive in an open courtroom, and who knows what Vought or God save us Homelander might do with that information.

MM: We can talk to the Colonel. Move you someplace a little lower security, someplace that allows visitors. I mean, your family's gotta be missing you. CD: That carrot's already been dangled. My sister's been made aware of my status, and has chosen not to communicate. Christ alone knows where my ex is-- probably shacked up with one of his undergrads and a case of Jack Daniels. --- "It's raining outside." Charlotte said as she fiddled with the nail file. She couldn't clip her patient’s nails, exactly, none of the clippers she'd tried had even scratched the nail surface. But they'd file if she ground at them enough. "You know something? There are times I think I'd sell my soul just to take a fucking walk by myself. This place is so double-top-secret they interrogate fresh air before they let it in."

She laughed to herself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be whining to somebody who can't tell me to shut up. I just realized this morning it's my nephew’s birthday but because I'm incommunicado I can't call him and say Happy Birthday. My sister's a brat and her boys are bratlings, but they're my brats.

"They're probably going to the beach, since it's the weekend. Grand Haven State Park-- these long fine sand beaches and nothing in the water that might eat you. We went there two-three times a summer when we were kids. The wind blows right off Lake Michigan hard enough to make the air feel nice, even when it's like a million degrees outside. Lucky me I got the suntan gene but my sister'd burn'n'peel every damn year. That fair Irish skin-- you could probably relate. My ex-husband was like that too. Our honeymoon, we spent three days in the Keys. Chris got sunburned so bad we had to spend most of it inside. Kind of a bad omen in retrospect.”

Realizing she was rambling, Charlotte stopped. She glanced at the telemetry monitor; he was in REM sleep but his vitals were still well under the panic threshold. She hoped it was a nice dream. She cleared her throat and sang, "In my favorite dream, everyone is so delightful, no one's mean or spiteful . . ."

She put Ben's hand down. "Good night. See you in the morning," she said, and sealed the capsule. As she took off the mask, she swallowed when she saw a tiny trail of moisture running from the corner of one eye. Charlotte hoped with all her heart it was just a bit of extra water and, careful to keep the touch light, she used her gloved thumb to wipe it away. --- MM: Take us through what happened. Did you notice anything out of routine when your morning shift started? CD: No. The pump that fed the breathing mask was still going so as far as I knew everything was normal. I filled the canister with the Novachik in the lab and changed it out like usual. My guess is the nerve agent was a dud.

SC: That would not be difficult. Novachik is not so easy to synthesize. If the pH is even a little out of balance-- seawater. CD: Right. I was going through his stimulation drills and I noticed his brain activity acting up, so I took his hand and started singing and it seemed like he’d calmed down. So I turned away to get the things for his bath when an alarm started going off on the capsule telemetry display. I looked at his face, and his eyes were open. --- "You've been doing this more lately," Charlotte said as she flexed his hand around the rubber handball. "It can't be because the Phillies are doing more than taking up space in the cellar this year. I didn't mean to get your hopes up there. I gotta suffer through Tigers mediocrity, you get to suffer with me. So there-- oh shit." Ben's heartrate was climbing again, though thank God not as fast as that first time. Charlotte pressed his hand over her heart again. "Okay. Orient on my heartbeat. A-one-and-a-two-and-a-here-we-go-- Too-rah-loo-rah-loo-ral, too-rah-loo-rah-lee . . ."

By the time she finished the Irish lullaby, Ben's vitals were dropping. "There. And according to my handy-dandy calendar, it's bath day. Let me take a look at that manly mane of yours. Might be time for a trim." As she turned to her cart, an alert on the containment capsule started going off. "Wait, what the fuck?"

A look at the EEG waves and her heart turned to ice. Nice and spiky and active and awake. Charlotte barely had time to complete that thought when a hand snapped around her neck. A tiny trickle of urine ran into her underwear as her patient-- as Ben-- as Solider Boy slowly sat up, eyes open and full of enough rage to start a war. Black fog washed over her vision and she went ragdoll. In an almost abstract sort of way she said goodbye to her sister and nephews, remembered the last time she'd watched a really pretty sunrise, regretted running out of her room without making her bed this morning.

"Where. Am. I?" he growled, muffled by the mask. The grip on her neck loosened just enough for Charlotte to breathe.

"West Virginia. Hazardous Waste Containment Facility," Charlotte croaked. --- MM: What happened next? CD: You saw the video. He grabbed me by the neck, demanded to know where he was, told me to take out the tubes, then he told me to show him the way out or he’d rip my fucking head off. Direct quote. --- “I’m sorry, this is probably going to hurt.”

“Just get it out of me motherFUCKER!!!” Soldier Boy screamed as Charlotte pulled the Foley. He cupped his hands over his genitals, curling over them protectively. “Oh that hurt like shit!”

Thankful that her hands weren’t shaking, Charlotte tossed the catheter tube. Picking up a towel she said, “Feeding tube next. Take a few deep breaths, suck in, and hold it,” carefully, she tugged the thin plastic tube out of his nose.

“Jesus Christ snorting fiberglass didn’t hurt this much,” he groaned, taking the towel from Charlotte and using it to apply pressure to his nose. “My God, am I hungry. Tell me you’ve got some food stuffed down your bra."

Deep in that clinical space she’d paid the iron price to learn, Charlotte said, “This is a hot zone. No food or drink.”

“No clothes either, I suppose. Figures.”

“You were comatose and incontinent. Clothes would have been impractical.”

Soldier Boy did a double-take. Was he blushing? Hard to tell with the beard. "Incontinent? You've been wiping my ass the whole time I've been here?!?"

"Calm down. I'm a nurse."

Soldier Boy made another one of those scoffing noises. Charlotte had heard him called an analog Homelander. Nobody who'd seen either up close would make that mistake. Around Homelander there was . . . like hearing a song playing on an out-of-tune piano. There was a feral edge to his mannerisms that led one to question whether or not a whole human being looked through those lake-blue eyes. Soldier Boy, whatever else he might be, was human. Mesmerizingly so. Charlotte could see how he could command men’s souls with a snap of his fingers. Worth wondering if his intense personal charisma was part of his super-ability package or something uniquely his own. Either way, it was overwhelming.

Soldier Boy rolled to get to his feet. On reflex Charlotte grabbed his arm to help him balance. He jerked away. “Get your damn hands offa me!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Charlotte backed away, hands held up and empty.

Say this much, he was good at assessing situations quickly. He looked around, noting the cameras, the smallness of the room, the cool stillness of the air, the particular quality of the silence. “How far underground are we?”

“I don’t exactly know,” Charlotte admitted as Soldier Boy snatched a blanket off the storage cabinet and wrapped himself up. “Construction on the main facility was abandoned twenty-thirty years ago when nuclear power development started to slow down. The main spaces were retrofitted into laboratories, a tunnel was punched down, and this,” Charlotte circled a finger, “was hollowed out. There’s this room, the observation bay, a decontamination chamber, a locker room, and an elevator.”

Soldier Boy’s twitchy eyes fixed on Charlotte. “That shit they use to knock me out-- why aren’t you dead?”

“Supe,” Charlotte said shortly. “Immune to poisons, including radiation. Also drugs don’t work on me. Made getting shot a bucket of fun.”

Soldier Boy looked her up and down. "I take it instant healing isn’t part of the package? Good. Get me out of here, or I’ll rip your fucking head off. Clear?"

Charlotte commended her soul to God. “Crystal.” --- AJ: It's okay. You don't have to be scared of him. CD: Of course I need to be scared of him, kiddo. You think something as trivial as a detention center crawling with Special Forces trained guards in the middle of a CIA black hole is gonna stop him from getting to me if he really sets his mind to it? So far the only person that’s put a dent in his paint job was Queen Maeve, and she had the help of a sixty-odd story drop. --- “Is there an evacuation plan around here somewhere?”

“What for?” Charlotte asked, pitching her voice to carry over the hiss of the shower in the decon chamber. “The only people down here are the indestructible and the expendable.” Using a pair of scissors she slit the hems and opened a few inches of leg seam on a set of scrub pants. No hope on the tops fitting over his shoulders but one of the cotton T-shirts should stretch enough.

The water shut off. “Fuck that shit is cold,” Soldier Boy grouched. “You have to do this, what, twice a day?”

“You get used to it.” Or learned to accept that God just liked a laugh sometimes. Charlotte remembered praying for cold the long months in the Iraqi and Afghani desert. Underground was nothing but cold. She opened her locker. Her accessories didn't amount to much-- just her watch, her ID badge on a lanyard, and her dog tags with her dad's crucifix on the same chain.

“Towel.” Charlotte tossed him one and turned her back as he emerged from the decon chamber. What was acceptable when he was comatose was an invasion when awake. “Okay. Now, if I had me in a secret underground cell, I’d have the rooms all rigged with that goddamned gas. I’d also have the elevator shaft rigged with explosives. So why am I still awake and we’re not buried under half a damn mountain?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how you’re awake now. There should’ve been enough Novachik in those canisters to keep you under until Jesus gets back.”

“Yeah about that,” Soldier Boy said. “What date is this?” Charlotte told him. “Clothes.”

“On the bench.”

Fabric rustled. “No drawers?”

“I don’t think mine would fit you,” Charlotte said dryly.

Soldier Boy dragged on the T-shirt and toweled his hair. Moving normally, Charlotte noted. Better than normally. He might’ve just woken up from a quick nap. Catching her stare, Solider Boy's lip quirked in a leer. He stretched to his toes, preening like a peacock. "Quit eyeballing the goodies, babydoll. Let's get out of here."

The next indication the situation was FUBAR came when the elevator doors opened. Charlotte put her back to the elevator's side wall. "I don't recognize the guy at the guard station."

Solider Boy nodded and stepped out of the elevator. Charlotte heard a gunshot, glass shattering, and a choking gasp. "You can come out. I got him. Now," Charlotte came out of the elevator and saw the 'guard' on his knees, neck in Soldier Boy's grip, "who the hell are you, and who do you work for? Talk fast or--" the strange man gurgled.

Charlotte saw he was wearing Carmichael’s name badge and rushed past. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the big guard shoved in the corner, shot through the back. She checked for a pulse, nodded, and noted the time on her watch. Her mouth tightened when she looked at the Rogue's Gallery on the filing cabinet and saw the picture of Carmichael's three daughters gathered around the family mutt, all four grinning big and bright.

The mook who'd taken Carmichael's spot grunted as Soldier Boy broke his neck. Soldier Boy took Carmichael's sidearm from the mook's holster and let the body flop to the floor. "Come on doll, you can have the vapors later--"

"Fuck you," Charlotte said on reflex, taking the dead man's wrist. The dead man's pants darkened as he spasmed and voided. Under Charlotte's fingers his pulse gave a last feeble twitch and stopped. "I might be your hostage but I've also why you haven't spent the last several months floating in your own shit."

“Am I supposed to be grateful for that?” Soldier Boy examined Carmichael’s weapon, nodding when he found it loaded. “You bastards buried me alive and expect me to kiss your ass for it?”

“Never mind,” Charlotte shoved the reflex to put him in his place aside. Mom had always told her that her pride would get her killed one day.

“I wasn’t out the whole time, you know,” he went on, pushing past Charlotte and opening the filing cabinet with a screech of breaking locks. File folders and papers started fluttering to the floor. “Did you know that?”

“Dr. Sanjeer said it was theoretically possible,” Charlotte said.

“Theoretically,” he mocked, “I kept feeling what you were doing to me.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Charlotte said and Soldier Boy paused in his rooting. “I promise, I wasn’t trying to.”

For just a second, Charlotte saw someone else standing up in the old Supe’s skin, a man trying hard to hang on to himself through terrible stress. The blink of vulnerability vanished as soon as it happened. “Maybe just having things done to you is bad enough.”

Charlotte remembered his state of utter helplessness, and it took a moment to step down on a feeling of terrible pity. She looked over at the red switch on the wall, the one next to the fire alarm. The one that would switch the fire suppression system from halon gas to water vapor laced with--

A hard hand landed on her shoulder. Soldier Boy squatted to her level and leaned in close, so close Charlotte could smell the fresh soap in his hair. “Get it straight angel. I will hurt you if I have to, to keep from going back in the box. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes I understand,” Charlotte said. A tide of hysteria rose within her; she fought it back. Falling apart could come later.

“Good girl.” With a gentle shake, Soldier Boy let Charlotte go. --- MM: So you got him out of the containment area. And then? CD: The main facility was full of bodies. According to Colonel Mallory--

WB: Everyone in the underground levels was already dead. CD: Right, the Novachik traps in Sublevels 1 and 2 had all been popped off and killed the laboratory personnel and most of the guards. The ones not caught by the nerve agent were just straight up shot. We were not exactly dealing with subtle people. --- The long hallway between the access point to the containment area and the rest of the facility was empty. The next body lay just outside the security checkpoint at the other end, shot through the head. In the sublevel's main area, more people lay slumped in the corridors. From the condition of the bodies it was obvious what had happened. “Somebody deployed the nerve agent,” Charlotte said.

“Obviously,” Soldier Boy said, taking a sniff. “You never forget that smell.”

Charlotte looked up in surprise. “You’ve got a sharp nose. Novachik’s odorless.”

"Super senses were part of the package," Solider Boy said. He cocked his head, like he was listening for something. "Hmm. You wanna move it along already? These men are dead."

"Yeah." Charlotte laid the man's hand down on his chest. She knew him-- Dr. Lamar Reginald from Spring Valley, Pennsylvania. Would talk by the hour about fishing, even if fishing wasn't what he was really doing.

"Oh for God's sake--" Soldier Boy grabbed Charlotte by the bicep.

She squeaked as he pulled her to her feet and down the corridor. "Ow-- let go! You're hurting me!"

"Tough titty kitty, I don't have time to baby you through this. Hustle!" At least he let go. Charlotte rubbed her arm as she quick-stepped in his wake. "How many floors between us and the way out?"

"Depends on which way you want to go," Charlotte replied. "We're on Sublevel 2. The main entrance is on Level 1 and the helipad is on Level 2--"

"Nertz on the helipad," Soldier Boy said. "Anything airborne has a transponder. They'd shoot me down before I get ten yards. Tell me about the main entrance."

"The gates are programmed to maglock if someone pulls the alarms. Steel doors about four inches thick." Soldier Boy ignored the elevators and continued past the laboratories. Charlotte glanced through the wired observation windows and her jaw clenched when she saw more bodies. “There’ll be a trap there, most likely."

"I'm not an idiot sugarbritches. They'll knock me out and take me, and either shoot you dead on the spot or disable you and drag you along thinking it'll make me behave." Solider Boy paused, looking down his nose at Charlotte. "It won't. I don’t make deals for hostages.”

"A No Hostage clause was part of my deal with Colonel Mallory. I know--"

"Mallory?" Solider Boy cut her off. "Grace Mallory? CIA?" He laughed. "Well I'll be damned. She must be a million years old by now."

"Such a gentleman," Charlotte muttered.

"Now now," Soldier Boy said, and Charlotte cussed to herself-- right, sensitive ears. "I know how to treat a lady. Only it seems to be an endangered species these days. Even in the seventies, seemed every time I turned around I had a set of tits in my face. In my day, a girl went around dressed like that," he rounded the corner, "it's because she wanted a log for the beaver if you know what I mean."

"Vividly,” Charlotte said in her driest of dry voices.

"These days? Jesus Mary and Joseph, you got grown men acting like they want to be pregnant, women with pants so damn tight you can read their razorburn-- what is it with that anyway? What do men even want these days? Little girls who act like sluts?"

Twenty years in the service had pretty well inoculated Charlotte against offense when it came to male nasty talk. "Couldn't tell ya."

"And the niggers? They're fucking everywhere. God save us,” he crossed himself, “we even elected one President! The President of the United God damned States!" Yet another bigoted idiot who assumed anyone white secretly sympathized with their crap. "I'm not a racist," he went on when Charlotte didn't say anything, "I just don’t think it’s good when people try and do things their temperaments aren’t suited for. Niggers don’t belong in leadership positions, as anybody with any sense knows. Am I right?”

"Explaining why not would take more energy than I got," Charlotte said.

Soldier Boy scowled but let it drop.

Charlotte cussed when Soldier Boy opened the door. There was another body slumped at the bottom of the stairwell, a body with a big splotch of birthmark mostly obliterated by an exit wound.

"Knock it off," Solider Boy snapped as Charlotte bent. Jerry Rivers. Dedicated Slipknot fan, amateur guitar player. "This is-- what are you doing?" Charlotte took the pistol out of Rivers's hand. She looked up and saw the enemy’s body, blood puddled on the stairs where he’d fallen. "Look honey, why don't you stand back and let me handle the men with the guns, okay? I stormed Normandy, I survived Inchon, I think I can handle a bunch of--"

The snap! of Charlotte's patience failing was so distinct it made her teeth rattle. "If you think I'm relying on you to get me out of this alive, you are fucking deluded. I don't feel like being a sidebar in the New York Times piece describing the collateral damage you inflicted during your big escape."

Looking legitimately taken aback, Soldier Boy asked, "Do you even know how to use the damn thing? In an actual firefight? Where men are shooting back at you?"

"Three years in country as a combat medic in Iraq, another six as an RN in Afghanistan," Charlotte told him. "Besides, why the hell do you care if I'm armed? It's not like I can kill you with friendly fire."

"All right," Soldier Boy said. "Keep it if it makes you feel better."

A hissing gas grenade clunked to the bottom of the stairwell. In seconds the place filled with stinking clouds. Soldier Boy sniffed, and scoffed. "Tear gas. Good God." He raised his pistol and shot twice. A body clumped down a flight of stairs and came to rest next to their fallen mate.

Charlotte fanned the air in front of her face, coughing.

"I thought you were immune to poisons," Soldier Boy noted. His eyes were turning red and his nose had started running. Somebody standing downwind of a trash fire, not in a chimney full of toxic smoke.

"I am," Charlotte choked. "Doesn't mean this crap don’t smell bad."

Chuckling, Solider Boy cocked his head. "Shall we?"

"Captain DePoister!" a voice bellowed over the base PA. Solider Boy flinched; Charlotte frowned. It was a woman’s voice, heavily accented. "We do not wish to harm you! Lay down on the ground with your hands on your head!" Music stated to play, something synth-heavy with lyrics in a different language.

Soldier Boy froze. Threat response froze.

"OhmyGod." Charlotte grabbed his hand as he doubled over and fell to his knees. She pressed his palm over her heart. "Benjamin Arthur Michael O'Connell look at me. Look at me!" His eyes snapped to hers, wide and blank of sense. "Focus on my eyes and on my voice, okay? The sound of my voice--" she pulled from the belly and let it rip, carrying right over the pop crap, "I . . . am a maid . . . of constant sorrow . . ." he blinked the emptiness out of his runny eyes. Charlotte felt his hand move between her breasts. She didn’t pull back. If copping a feel helped ground him, let him feel.

To Charlotte's shock he joined her on the last chorus, singing in a sure and resonant voice that blended well with Charlotte’s soprano. They ran through the whole thing together, holding hands and shouting for Jesus, their mingled voices drowning out the other noise. By the time they were done with their second run-through, it had stopped. Silence.

Solider Boy took his hand back and stood, visibly shaking off the willies and shoving the whole episode into the memory hole. Charlotte squashed the urge to get some talk going; this wasn't the time or the place. Or the man. --- WB: So your magic lullaby kept him from popping one off on the way out the door-- right? CD: I did something right. He didn't blow a crater in the side of West Virginia. I know the results weren't optimum but gimme a break. The friendly casualties were not inflicted by Solider Boy. To his dubious credit the murders he committed since you geniuses broke him out of containment in Russia were of people who'd condemned him to forty years of physical and psychological torture-- --- Pale as cheese but composed, Soldier Boy hung back as Charlotte waved her ID at the door sensor. Nothing. "Shit. They must've reset the locks."

"Not to me they didn't," he said, taking two steps forward and using his bare foot to kick the door clean out of the frame. Hard enough to crash it into the opposite corridor wall.

Charlotte directed him to the right and followed him down the hall. She was watching the rear when she bumped into him, hard. Grumbling a curse, she looked past Soldier Boy and saw the long windows looking out over the Allegheny Plateau. The sun was hitting the maple leaves just right, turning the forest an intense, almost firey green. She kept quiet as Soldier Boy approached the window. She could see his reflection, a faint ghost in the wired glass. The sunlight turned his eyes jade green and touched off the red in his hair. It brought him to life.

Hesitatingly, he raised his hand and laid it on the window. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the glass, closing his eyes against the sunlight and breathing hard like he was trying to reach the fresh air beyond. Like a prisoner just getting out after a long stretch in the stockade, or a patient allowed to go outside for the first time after a while bedbound. Both at once, come to think of it.

Charlotte kept her mouth shut, let her patient have his moment. It didn’t take long, and Soldier Boy straightened up. “What else is on this level?”

"Storage, armory, infirmary, receiving. Residential on Level 2.”

"Does this place have a kitchen?" At Charlotte's incredulous look, Soldier Boy shrugged. "I wasn't joking about being hungry. Give me a good red and a side salad I think I might eat you."

"'No! Don't eat me! I'm too chewy!'" Charlotte mock-screamed, and he laughed. "There’s a locker room for offsite personnel on this floor. You could probably scrounge a lunch."

"And different clothes," he said sourly, picking at the scrub slacks. "Don't suppose my uniform's around here someplace."

"I'm pretty sure they gave it to Homelander so he could burn it," Charlotte said.

"He can't do that!" The humor had flown right out of him. He seemed . . . offended. "I'm still a goddamned hero and all!"

"Oh boy." Charlotte did some mental backdating and-- "Fuck."

"Oh," Solider Boy said. "The smear campaign's started hasn't it?"

Fully aware these might be her last words, Charlotte said, "The Deep. He's one of the Seven--"

"I know who he is."

"He leaked your Vought file. The unadulterated file.” Soldier Boy's eyes widened and his already pasty complexion paled further. "The one that they buried after you," Charlotte finger-quoted, "'died' in '84. Made a bigger sensation than the fucking Watergate tapes. The official story is that you were kidnapped and brainwashed by former KGB black ops." Might as well pull the splinter now. "The Russians kept records. Of what they did to you. I've seen them." Charlotte didn't elaborate. The grainy video footage held special guest star status in her nightmares.

That flash of vulnerability was back, and deeper. For a second Charlotte saw the soul, trapped in a loveless, featureless, white-cold hell of pain. She didn't move. She tried her best to not even breathe. Through the stretched fabric of the heather gray T-shirt, she could see a sullen glow starting in the center of his chest. The end of her life written in a blast of poisoned fire.

Soldier Boy punched the wall and it caved in almost a foot. The whole hallway shook, cracks spidering everywhere. "Come on. Which way to the locker room?" --- AJ: You're defending him?!? If Vought Tower had gone down-- CD: Have you been listening? That doesn't make the collateral damage he's caused okay, and since you geniuses aided and abetted him while he was a fugitive I'm guessing you have a fair amount of moral flexibility on the subject.

HC: Soldier Boy sneezed on a busy street and killed almost 30 people. He's a weapon of mass destruction with PTSD and a two-second fuse. MM: And a racist motherfucker. HC: That too. CD: What's your point? The best idea anyone’s proposed for confining him’s failed. Twice. Look, it's true-- no one person should have that kind of power. It's why you need a roomful of people to agree when you start talking about nukes. You guys just don’t see an issue with using people who do. How is that anything but a lateral move in this idiotic arms race? Your solutions amount to continual escalation and/or fucking ethnic cleansing. Excuse me all to hell if that confuses my priorities somewhat. --- In the locker room Soldier Boy snapped the locks off each locker and rifled through the contents. Clothes and wallets piled up on the changing bench. "No," he said, as he held the bottom of each shoe to the sole of his bare foot, "no . . . no . . . oh for Christ's sake, quit it. You look like a frightened chipmunk, Captain."

Charlotte’s spine went straight and she snapped, "Don't you fucking dare. I earned that commission, you fucking pogue.”

“Right. You’re the real hero,” Soldier Boy drawled.

"I've seen your actual service record,” Charlotte retorted. “The only action you've seen in a combat zone was hanging out in Pusan long enough to call Truman a, quote, ‘spineless faggot sucking on Stalin’s balls,’ unquote. Soldier Boy. What a fucking joke. You are the fucking opposite of a soldier. You are a thug and a coward.”

The smile went out of Soldier Boy’s eyes, though it stayed on his face. It made him look insane. It made him look like Homelander. “May I ask how you arrived at that conclusion, Captain Butch?”

“Not gay. Brave men don’t corner teenagers in the shower for mutual masturbation sessions. Brave men don’t call their girlfriends dumb cunts . . . period.” Charlotte paused. “Brave men don’t take aim at kindergarteners.”

“It’s called acceptable losses, woman--"

"I don't see an insignia. What's your rank, mister?" Charlotte demanded. “Where are you in the line of command? What is your authority?!?"

"My authority,” he snarled, “is that I am motherfucking Solider Boy, and if I have to hear another word out of you--"

Today is a good day to die. "Oh for Christ's sake just fucking kill me if all you got's threats," Charlotte cut him off.

"Maybe I don't want to do that." Soldier Boy stalked close, his body language changing from athletic grace to something animal. He crowded up to her, towered over her. Charlotte clenched her fists to stop her hands from shaking. "Hmm? Maybe, it's been a while." He traced his fingertips down her neck, a featherlight caress that made Charlotte prickle. He put his hand at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, her clavicle under his palm and his thumb a spot of pressure against her throat. All he had to do was shake, and bones would snap like little branches. Charlotte shuddered; she couldn’t stop herself. "Maybe, I could feel you touching me the whole time I was under," his free hand pressed to her back and yanked her close, his body big and hot against hers, "and now, I want to touch you back."

“Look,” Charlotte said as she sucked air to catch her breath, slow her pounding heart, “in the last ninety minutes, you have threatened to rip my head off, promised to hurt me -- underlined -- if I didn’t assist your escape, and told me you’d write me off if I was taken hostage. You are also my patient and I don't fuck patients. These things make you someone I do not want touching me and my libido doesn’t get a vote. Now back off.”

"Is that what you really want, Captain?” Solider Boy purred. His body, his smile, all of him was pure seduction. Except his eyes. His eyes were empty as a skull's. "I can feel your heartbeat. Your mouth's saying no but your--"

"Sometimes you’d get an erection when I was disimpacting your bowels. You're the expert-- should I have fucked you right then?" Charlotte went up on tiptoe to speak in his ear. "Is that why you think you might like dick?"

The hands on her body turned to iron, hard and hurtful. "You watch your filthy mouth."

"Or what? You'll kill me? Assuming I live though this, I'm either getting shot for treason or put in jail for the rest of my life. I'm aiding and abetting an enemy agent. The UCMJ's pretty clear on what happens to traitors. The only reason you're still sucking air is putting you in front of a firing squad'd be a little pointless."

"Then why bother taking care of me? Hmm? You could’ve left me in the box to rot and just sat there picking your nose or playing with yourself or whatever people do to goldbrick these days. Why didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Soldier Boy shoved Charlotte behind him as two people walked into the room, “do tell why you did not simply leave this poor boy all alone in the dark.” Charlotte swore in Arabic; one of the newcomers was Dr. Sanjeer. The other was a lanky young man wearing a dirty baseball cap and orange All-Stars. In one hand he carried a large tablet displaying a woman’s face. Both men wore oxygen tanks on their backs, masks hooked to the shoulder straps. “My sources tell me you are not soft-hearted Captain. Despite the clichés, good nurses rarely are."

"Who are you?" Solider Boy asked.

"You may call me Nina, my Soldier Boy."

"I'm not your anything. Tell me why I'm not stomping your messenger boys' guts out."

"Because you haven't. You are not mindless, and you are not crazy." The woman on the tablet took a huff off a cigarette. "I would have preferred to discuss this in person. Unfortunately, my inside man could not access your cell directly.”

Inside man. "You bastard,” Charlotte spat at Sanjeer. “What’s she giving you? Money?”

“Quite a lot of it,” at the same moment Sanjeer said, “It isn’t about--"

Solider Boy pointed at Sanjeer. "You. Shut up." His finger jerked to point at the woman. "You. Talk."

"I have a proposition. It must be very clear to you by now you exist in a world that neither needs nor wants you. Vought has their poster boy, more popular than ever thanks to his reinvention as family man." Solider Boy snorted. "Grace Mallory has recently been diagnosed with heart failure and has been given a prognosis in months, William Butcher is dying by inches of brain lesions, and your former comrades are all dead."

"There's still Homelander, and Vought," Solider Boy said. "Those cocksuckers need to go down. Hard."

"A feat you cannot accomplish on your own and is even less likely now that he has taken your measure. What does it profit you, to kill him?"

"I have a commie lecturing me about profit."

"Your outdated thinking is showing, my Soldier Boy. If there is a lesson of our times it is this-- ideals are perishable. Like eggs, no? The only truths are the things that can be held in the hand," she cupped her palm like she was holding a pile of coins. "Like gold. A child's hand. A lover's cock. Your enemy's heart."

Soldier Boy's glower deepened. "There's a ribeye steak and a bottle of MacAllen 18 somewhere with my name on it. Get to the point."

"Directness, I like it. I've made a niche for myself as a facilitator for many things around the world--"

"You want me to do hits for you," Soldier Boy cut her off.

"In a word. You are both uniquely talented and very skilled, and despite recent evidence to the contrary I know for a fact you can be discreet. Vought left you to the enemy and replaced you with a very pretty maniac. You owe them nothing. Your country's best use for you was to shove you into a coffin and bury you alive. You owe them even less. You have no friends, no real kin. You have no one, except possibly Captain DePoister, who cares for you at all, and some time in your waking company has probably cured her of that."

All through this the lanky man stood still. Charlotte saw his eyes flick over to one side. A tic worked under one eyelid. Sanjeer's eyes kept moving in the same direction. His hands kept pinching and worrying the side seems of his trousers-- a nervous stim she'd noticed in him before when he was under stress.

Soldier Boy glanced back over his shoulder. "Well doll? You sick of my company yet?"

Charlotte squared her shoulders. She looked Soldier Boy in the eye, and deliberately cut her eyes to the right. "I know for a fact you were raised properly. You will address me as Captain.”

Soldier Boy did that scoffing thing. "You never answered my question. Why did you bother taking care of me, if I'm so fucking terrible a person?"

In her peripheral vision, she saw the lanky man's sleeve twitch. "HOLD YOUR BREATH!" she screamed and fired from the hip. The lanky young man flinched as the shot nipped a piece of fabric from his coat. The red switch next to the fire alarm exploded into pieces.

Sanjeer screamed and tripped running for the door, belly-crawling into a corner. Still holding the tablet displaying the Russian woman's smoke-haloed face, the lanky young man made a flicking motion with his free hand as Charlotte fired again. Agony burst up her arm as the whatever-it-was the lanky man could throw hit it. Charlotte fell to her knees; the kid fell on his back with a hole in his throat.

Charlotte curled over her wounded arm, panting out screams. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she peeled the pistol out of her right hand. She was an okay shot left-handed, not great, but--

A commotion broke out. Three more men had burst into the room wearing oxygen masks and shooting MAC-10s. As she watched, Soldier Boy turned them into piles of broken meat. The last man, he twisted the head off. Like opening a jelly jar. Blood sprayed everywhere. The head rolled on the floor like a soccer ball.

Charlotte grayed out for a moment. When the world came back online, Soldier Boy was talking into the tablet. The conversation must not have gone well-- he hurled the tablet into the bank of lockers so hard it punched through, leaving a dash in the metal shaped like a giant cockeyed coin slot.

Cowering in a corner, oxygen mask clutched in his shaking hands, Sanjeer moaned. Soldier Boy, covered in blood and looking like some sort of Celtic war god, paused in gathering up cash and clothes long enough to lift Charlotte to her feet. He picked Sanjeer up and twisted the portly doctor’s arm up behind his back. "Talk."

“Charlotte please,” Sanjeer said. “We need more. We need data. We need . . . we can end it, all of it!" He started to snivel. “He's the key to everything. Just . . . let us figure out how he can do it. Once we have that we have the upper hand over-- over--” he stuttered to a stop.

Over you, Charlotte heard the part he didn’t say. Spangled costume or GI issue, Vought or USA, Decontamination Charlotte or Captain DePoister. All the same. An error in the system. Even begging for his life, she could see the sneer he always had when he spoke to her.

“Please, please-- I,” Charlotte raised Rivers’s pistol, “I have a family--”

“And I don’t?” Charlotte asked. “Rivers? Carmichael? Dr. Reginald? Your lab techs? We were all here to help you.”

“Not fast enough. We need that weapon in our hands now but to do that we need examples of compound-neutralization effect in action. The subjects from the Vermont incident aren't enough. Too many variables. Analysis of data could take decades and we need answers now."

“Experimental data,” Charlotte said. “Test subject-- me. That’s why she tried to trigger him but she told me to get out of the way first. You need a specimen." Her guts turned cold as she ran down the chain of logic. "God have mercy-- I was never here to work was I? This whole time! You've been trying to get him to pop off while you had us both under observation. Did Mallory know about this? What am I talking about?-- of course she fucking did, that woman never misses a trick. God damn you!"

Solider Boy shoved Sanjeer to his knees. “He’s all yours,” he said to Charlotte as he went back to scrounging.

Sanjeer wrung his hands and begged, “Charlotte please, we’re close, I swear we’re close, just let me do my work. You owe it--”

Charlotte shot. One in the head, the rest of the magazine in the back.

“Good girl,” Soldier Boy praised.

"Piss off," Charlotte retorted. She tried to move her bad arm and the pain took the feet out from under her. Soldier Boy caught her as her legs gave out. “You can find the way out from here,” Charlotte told him. “Just follow the Exit signs.”

Instead, Soldier Boy bent and swept an arm behind her knees, lifting her into his arms. He picked up a duffel bag and a pair of hiking boots. "Where's the infirmary?" --- CD: Sanjeer was the inside man. The woman -- Nina she said her name was -- waved seven figures and a chance at a Nobel under his nose. I don't know if she was working with or for anybody; that'd all be guesswork on my part. The last of her strike team was waiting in the locker room on the main floor. The Novachik trap inside was still intact. While Nina had Solider Boy distracted, she had a Supe try and spring it. I shot him, and he broke my arm. Soldier Boy saved my life when the shithead's backup came in shooting. He could’ve left me there. He had a clear line to the door. Instead he took me to the infirmary and helped me administer first aid.

HC: Why would he do that? CD: Probably because he didn't want to walk out of there thinking he owed me one. Why he'd care about that, I don’t know. Solider Boy's not really capable of respect. You have to understand people have a value beyond what they can gain you to do that. He and Colonel Mallory are birds of a feather in that regard. --- Gently, Solider Boy set Charlotte down on the infirmary's exam table. Charlotte cussed in pain as she examined the injury.

"How bad is it?"

"Both the bones're fractured," Charlotte reported. "Swell."

Moving quick and efficient, Solider Boy ransacked the room. Looked like her Dad trying to figure out the kitchen, opening every cupboard trying to find the paper plates. A brace and some rolls of compression bandage piled on the table at Charlotte's hip. "Shit. Morphine, morphine, wherefore art thou morphine--"

"Bad time to get fucked up," Charlotte said.

"Not for me."

"Don't bother. Drugs don't work on me, remember?"

Soldier Boy paused. "Oh. Right. Sorry." He watched Charlotte hiss and whimper as she tried to reduce the fractures. "That must hurt like a sonofabitch. Here." Charlotte jerked away as Soldier Boy reached for her arm. "Stop that. Let me see."

"Why do you even care?" Charlotte snapped.

"What are you talking about? Of course I care. You probably just saved my life." A bitter smirk twisted his lips. "Such as it is."

"Knock it off. Self-pity's unattractive."

Giving her another one of those unreadable looks, Soldier Boy repeated, "Let me see-- this needs to be set."

“I can do this--”

“So can I. Learned how when I was a kid out camping with my cousins. Mother insisted I learn first aid.” Scoffing to himself, he added, “One of the few things she and my father agreed on.”

Taking deep breaths, Charlotte said, “Can you, just really carefully, pull between my elbow and my wrist?”

Soldier Boy grabbed some gauze and wound a roll over his first two fingers. “Bite down on this.”

Wrapping one hand around her elbow and the other around her wrist, Soldier Boy pulled. Like a thick piece of rubber tubing, the muscles stretched. The pain was amazing. Panting hard into the gauze between her teeth, Charlotte manipulated the bones with her left hand. Simple fracture of the ulna, incomplete simple fracture of the radius-- painful but not serious.

The broken ulna moved into position. Charlotte managed to get the brace on her arm and strap it into place. She spat the gauze out and said, “Slowly. Release.”

Soldier Boy slowly eased the pull and let go. He found a sling and helped her settle her arm into it. “How’s that feel?”

“It’ll hold until I can get somewhere with an MRI machine.” At his blank look, Charlotte explained, “Magnetic Resonance Imaging. Like X-rays but better.”

Chuckling a little, Soldier Boy patted her shoulder. His brow furrowed a little. Charlotte held still as he ran a finger under her neck chain and pulled her dog tags out from under her scrub top.

DEPOISTER CHARLOTTE O.E. ######### B NEG NO PREFERENCE

“What’s the O-E stand for?”

“Octavia Elizabeth. My mom’s favorite book as a kid was Charlotte’s Web. Octavia is the nurse who delivered me and my sister-- we're twins and we were high-risk. Elizabeth’s my Confirmation name.”

“That why you became a nurse?”

“That’s complicated.”

Soldier Boy frowned thoughtfully at the metal on his fingers. “If you’re an atheist how come you wear a cross?”

“I’m not an atheist.” Charlotte took the tags back and put them back under her scrub top. “Recovering Catholic isn’t available as an option.”

Soldier Boy took her left hand, thumbing at her watch. “You’re right-handed? That stinks.”

Charlotte’s eyes flicked up and there he was. Head bent close like a friend sharing secrets. He stank like blood and hot skin, and despite knowing better she felt herself melting at the quick. Vivid full Technicolor fantasies she hadn’t allowed herself in all the time she’d been his caretaker filled her imagination--

Son of a bitch. Charlotte snatched her hand back. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he asked, all low and sensuous.

“I mean it. Stop it.”

One of his blood-gritty hands cupped her face. His nose touched hers. “You're blushing for me, angel,” he said.

“Of course I'm blushing. I’m a heterosexual female with eyesight that works. Now, take your hands off of me and take one step back, now."

Instead, he kissed her. Gentle, insistent, and reminding her in painful detail exactly how long it had been since her last kiss. Soldier Boy smiled against Charlotte’s mouth as she put her hand on his chest. The look of total confusion when she shoved him back as hard as she could was almost funny.

"Read my lips," Charlotte said, pointing to her mouth. "Back. Off.”

Finally, finally, that seemed to get through. Soldier Boy stood there like an unplugged toy as Charlotte got down off the exam table, awkward with her slung arm. She gave him the room and pulled the privacy curtain as she passed, veiling his face. Blank, bloody, lost. “Get cleaned up and get changed."

No answer from the other side of the curtain, though Charlotte supposed the squeak of a faucet handle could be taken as one. She listened as he slurped a drink. Mild splashing as he washed his face. The soft sound of fabric shuffling as he changed his clothes.

Soldier Boy whisked the privacy curtain aside and found Charlotte gathering bottled water and boxes of meal bars. “Hey woah doll,” he said, "you don’t--"

“Captain. For the last fucking time,” Charlotte said. “My name’s not doll, or angel, or any of the other little pet names you use in lieu of a woman’s actual name.”

“Okay, Captain. I’m sorry.” Soldier Boy laid his duffel bag on the counter and packed it full, quick and efficient. In regular clothes and shoes, he was . . . he wasn't her patient any more. But he wasn't Solider Boy either, all dash and attitude and winking at the camera as he fondled the leading ladies. He was just a guy with a solid build and restless eyes. "Captain? Charlotte?"

Charlotte blinked, realized she was staring. "Sorry. Zoned out a moment." She took a deliberate step back. "Come on, the main entrance is--"

“I’m not a bad guy,” Soldier Boy blurted.

“I never said that you were,” Charlotte blurted back, surprised into bluntness. "Look, net effect of today’s adventures on my end is a broken arm and the rest of my life in jail-- if I’m lucky."

"Come with me." Charlotte's eyebrows shot straight up her forehead. "I'm serious," Solider Boy added.

"Don’t be ridiculous." Charlotte lifted her bound arm, grimacing in pain as she did. "I'm wounded. I'd only slow you down. Besides, not thinking you’re a bad guy’s not the same thing as trusting you."

Solider Boy put his hands on his hips. "So you're too good for me? Is that it?"

"For Christ’s sake--” Charlotte cried, “what do you want from me? Absolution? I'm a nurse, not a priest!” Soldier Boy’s arms went across his chest, like a man bracing for further blows. “You're not bad. You're indifferent. And for someone who can do what you can do, indifference is worse. Come on." She was half out the infirmary door when she realized she was walking alone. Solider Boy just stood there, again with that unplugged look. Like he was -- Charlotte wanted to smack herself when she finally put it together -- dissociating, an overstressed mind and wounded spirit fleeing from the Here and Now. She'd seen in before, in patients coping with post-traumatic stress. "Come on, you're wasting daylight and you're gonna wanna get gone before shift change."

"I didn't mean to kill anyone besides the twins. At that house," Solider Boy said, talking like he hadn't heard her. "And that building. I just," he waved a hand in front of his eyes, "I blacked out, and I guess this," he taps his sternum, "popped off by itself. In that stairway. I think I felt it starting to happen again. My head started hurting and . . ." he trailed off. Charlotte didn't move. This was Ben talking, not Solider Boy, and Ben deserved to be heard. "It almost happened again. But you stopped it." His eyes refocused, saw her. "How did you know singing to me would stop it?"

"I didn't. Not for sure," Charlotte admitted. "I've had patients who have," she picked her words carefully, "attacks like that. The usual protocol is to talk them around until they come back on their own. I had to be a little more direct in your case."

"Hell of a gamble. I could've killed you. I almost did." Charlotte shrugged. "Why risk it? You could've just gotten out of the way."

"And anyone else who might've been in the line of fire? They might've been the enemy. They might've been one of the guards here. Shit, they might be some random jackass hiking the mountains looking for standing stones."

Ben still looked blank, like a kid trying to parse meaning out of an algebra problem. Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally who can kill me in her sleep. "You never answered my question. Why bother taking care of me at all?" --- HC: What did you tell him? CD: 'Because it's my job.' We made it to the main security station. I told him where the nearest airport was. The last thing I remember was him apologizing for having to knock me out. --- "Watch your face Captain." Charlotte turned aside as Ben put his fist through the glass of the security station's observation window. He reached through and unlocked the door. A map of the immediate area hung on the wall; Ben examined it thoughtfully, then pulled it down and folded it up. “So what are you going to tell them when they find you?”

“The truth,” Charlotte shrugged. “You forced me to take you out of the complex, stole some clothes, and asked if I knew where the nearest airport is.”

Ben nodded, stuffing the map in his pocket. “That should give me enough of a head start. One of those freight trains should take me halfway to the--"

"Wait!" Charlotte snapped up her hand. "Better I don’t know."

"You're right. I'm sorry. How's the arm?"

"Hurts. Thank you for helping splint it."

Ben nodded. "Guess you know what comes next. You know where your knockout button is?"

"Yeah," Charlotte pointed, "just don't break my teeth. Dental work's a bitch when Novocain doesn't work."

"Affirmative.” He touched her face. “Thank you. For . . . just . . . thank you. I’m sorry to have to do this.” He pulled his hand back and curled his fist. “On three-- one--"

Stars exploded across Charlotte's awareness and the last thing she felt were Ben's arms as he caught her falling body and lowered her carefully to the ground. --- CD: I half-expected him to just kill me. But the next thing I know I’m coming to in legirons with Colonel Mallory explaining that I’m in protective custody, and I’m at least eighty percent sure I’m never leaving.

MM: Do you have any idea where he is now? CD: No. He didn’t share his plans with me. He was able to smuggle himself back to the US all the way from Moscow; I don't think he'd have as much of a problem staying under the radar as you guys seem to think he would.

WB: Oi Florence Nightingale-- if you knew, would you even tell us? CD: Yes I would tell you if I knew. I didn't forget my duties as either an officer or a nurse, and so far my reward is an indefinite term of imprisonment as bait, on the off-chance Soldier Boy grows a sense of duty or obligation and shows up to break me out. Which he won’t. So fuck you very much. Take me back to my cell. --- One early spring evening, Charlotte was in the yard with The Lions Of al-Rassan open in her lap. The alarm klaxon bellowed and she jumped a foot.

“What’s going on?” she asked Private Lett, the MP on duty in the yard. Seemed a bit overkill for one . . . whatever the hell Charlotte was on paper these days.

“Power interruption. Again. I think you’ll be okay back in your suite.”

“Cell,” she corrected. “Let’s call things by their right names, shall we PFC?”

She had the grace to look embarrassed. “Yes ma’am. Return to your cell. We’ll have this figured out in a snake flick.”

Compared to the stockade, Charlotte supposed, her confinement could've been considered comfortable. A little collection of buildings cut out of the nowhere between the UP and the Wisconsin state line, surrounded on all sides by a perimeter wall and a shitload of trees. In the winter, the snow piled up in yardsticks and the silence got so profound it hurt. Now that it was warmer Charlotte spent every moment she could get away with outdoors, soaking up sun like some half-assed weed. Just her, a handful of guards, and nowhere to go. Welcome to life in the discard pile.

Charlotte was halfway up the sidewalk back to Hut 3 when she heard something. A low, tuneful baritone floating from the thick box hedges lining the path, “I . . . am a man . . . of constant sorrow . . .” Charlotte dropped her book and knelt to pick it up. “Meet me by the birdbath," the voice softly instructed.

“No killing anyone,” Charlotte said.

"Haven’t yet. Go."

She'd just finished scribbling on the title page of her book when a dark shape cut itself out of the gathering shadows by Hut 2. "You about done lollygaggin, Captain?"

“Yeah,” she said, putting her book on the side of the birdbath. She took off her dog tags and her cross, kissing the cross as she laid it beside the book. “Let’s make like donkeys and haul ass.”

Ben laughed. “Come here. Faster if I carry you piggyback.”

“This isn’t,” Charlotte grunted as she clambered onto Ben’s broad back, “terribly dignified.”

“Woman, you have had your hands on my dick and your fingers up my ass. Your dignity can take a few jabs.”

“Yeah yeah.” Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Ben stood like Charlotte weighed nothing. “Hang on tight.”

Charlotte hung on tight and Ben took off, running free and easy. Vague memories of riding like this on her mom's back as Dad took Kay made her want to cry. She put her head on Ben’s shoulder and shut her eyes. Weird to feel safe in the company of a borderline lunatic and mass murderer, but she did feel safe with him now. Maybe Nina had a point about ideals. Charlotte’s had certainly died, bleeding out as she lived out her life in captivity and flatlining for good as Colonel Mallory’s Boys grilled her for answers she didn’t have.

“Here,” Ben said some time later, squatting to let Charlotte down. They’d come to a motorcycle loaded with supplies, parked next to a gravel road running roughly east-west. "How's your arm?"

"It's good," Charlotte said. "Aches a little bit when it's cold, which is all the goddamned time." Ben chuckled as stretched to his toes, shook out to limber up. Looked to be in perfect health, she noted, hair and beard neatly trimmed. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what the last months have been for him. "Do you have a knife?"

"Course." Ben opened a pocketknife as Charlotte shrugged out of her coat and pointed out the little scar in the fleshy underside of her arm. Working by moonlight, he slit the skin and pinched out the tiny black cylinder of a tracking device. At Charlotte's nod, he crushed it between his thumb and forefinger and flicked it away like a spent cigarette.

“Do you have--”

“Here, I got it,” Ben said as he bandaged the cut. “Can I ask you something?" he asked as he worked. At Charlotte's grunted yeah, he asked, "What were you writing in that book?"

"A note to my sister. Said I loved her and the boys, and to pray for me the next time she goes to Mass.” Ben nodded as he mounted up. “My turn,” Charlotte said. “Why come break me out?”

“Heard a rumor. Homelander.” Charlotte felt herself go pale. “Nobody deserves what that stupid motherfucker would do to you.” He hesitated. Honest feelings didn't seem to come naturally to him. Like learning to play an instrument-- all that came out was noise at first. "Besides, I owed you one."

"Okay."

Ben paused in getting himself settled, cocking an eyebrow back at Charlotte. "'Okay?' So you trust me now?"

"Let’s just say prison life's not agreeing with me." Ben patted the saddle behind him and Charlotte got on. "So what now?"

“You know something?” Ben said as he heeled up the kickstand. “For the first time in my entire goddamned life . . . I have no idea."

"It’ll wait for morning,” Charlotte said. “Let’s just make some miles. Head west."

"Hang on tight." Ben kick-started, and they sped off into the dark. ---

AN2: UCMJ-- Uniform Code of Military Justice, body of laws applying to United States armed forces personnel.

Crime-a-nilly it's so much easier when it's just porn.

[albatrossmuffin]

A Subtitler’s Hypothesis for the Timeline of the End of FS2

Be prepared for a novel here 😂

So the opening montage through the night pool scene is likely March (potentially early April, but no one is actually -seen- going to school yet, so probably end of March)

Although clearly everyone has some kind of arrangement or virtual accommodations with school, because they are ALL at training camp from April – August/September, maybe even through early October (so Haru, being out of the country away from school for a couple months? Paltry lol he did not quit school imo)

              -Nationals in DF were in August (high school nationals are in August, I checked lol), which was followed by the All Japan, however based on how warm everyone is dressed in Tokyo afterwards in FS2, it can’t be earlier than September/October-y 

Fukuoka Tournament – (late?) October – I say late based on those warm clothes again; I’ve worn shorts in early October in Tokyo before lol. And yet those in Iwatobi aren’t dressed too warmly yet, so it couldn’t be later than that. It doesn’t seem like a lot of time passed between the All Japan and Fukuoka, so they could both realistically be in October, even. But there’s two facts to sort of reverse engineer that this was Octoberish

-A Japanese fan pointed out the clock at sunset when Rin is showing his family his bronze medal, it’s around 5:10, and the sun is starting to set. Looking at sunset time maps, this would fit in October. (The sun sets in the late 5 o clock range in mid to late October in Fukuoka)

-Ikuya tells Ai in early December that Haru “got out of the hospital last month” aka November, which saying last month idk it makes it sound to me like it was a different month than the actual competition lol

But why is Ikuya and Ai’s convo in early December, you ask? With the phrase “last month,” there has to be a month in between Fukuoka and Haru going to Iwatobi. I would say there is no more than that based on Ikuya’s clothes in the scene. The girl, and others around are wearing wintery coats, yet Ikuya, compared with his coat in FS1 when everyone leaves for New Year, isn’t that bundled yet. So it’s cold, but not cold enough for Ikuya to be in full ‘winter mode’ yet, aka early December. So:

Fukuoka Tournament – October-y

Haru in the hospital for some length of time – November (with My MakoHaru heart, I’d vote he gets out before Makoto’s birthday lol ^^ BUT he does need to be out with a few weeks left in November so he has time to shoot the advertisement billboard, and get his stuff ready/school affairs in order to go to Iwatobi in December)

-sidebar, after this convo would be where Ai goes to Hungary to study abroad (maybe after New Year); the line “soon after entering university” has to mean within his first year of school, so away he goes lol

(Even if the tournament & hospitalization were both in October somehow, and “last month” meant October [the deciding factor would be how long you think he was in the hospital for], this would still be mid or late November because of the Ikuya clothes thing, and needing the time for the billboard and school, so everything still applies lol)

Haru in Iwatobi – December; where it makes sense he wouldn’t leave before New Year, when people are home to celebrate

So January he would get his affairs in order in Iwatobi and Tokyo, and be gone from late January/February through the end of March

Why I think the epilogue is the end of March: We’ve got both new students showing up in Tokyo, and also Momo hasn’t had his send off race yet – it’s a between period where things are happening over the break. Further evidence, in ES1 when they go to the send off race, a calendar showing a third week in a month is seen (you can see a digit in the teens in the week above, and a digit beginning with 2 in the week below) – there is no month, but it can only be March, because February would be too early, and April way too late.

Unrelated to the timeline lol: so in my headcanon world, Rin & Makoto have come to Hungary for some form of tournament: Haru is back now (precise verbs were “is back” & “is returning”), so his rehab must be in its end stages. There could be a tournament happening in Hungary that will be Haru’s first ‘official’ tournament of his return, and Rin is there to compete, and Makoto is there to support/shadow trainers, etc (that could have happened through a connection with Azuma, Nao, or his school, or even Natsuya take your pick lol). After said tournament, Haru may stay in Hungary a few more weeks to get his stuff together, then return to Tokyo.

Why is it a tournament, not some kind of training camp? We were given one tiny, tiny clue lol: When the world championships were in Budapest last year, Free’s website made some kind of note about broadcasting or something I cannot recall tbh lol but the important thing is they called it “Hungary Tournament,” the same way they call all the tournaments in FS. Smart Japanese fans pointed out that nowhere in any media coverage of the Budapest championships was it called “Hungary Tournament.” So it had the vibe of a subtle wink to fans lol, but it could be either one (headcanon stays almost the same lolol).

Yeeeah lol I hope this is helpful to anyone!! :D

[goatskickin]

💌 | Forget about sims, lets learn about YOU! Tell us one fact about yourself, and then send this to 5 other Simblrs to do the same 👽

Thank you for asking! 😊

I have a regular job, but since I think January 2018, I have also periodically worked as a standardized patient.

What’s that?

Source:

The sessions most often take place in exam rooms, but not always. They are sometimes one-on-one, sometimes done with a group, and sometimes done under the guidance of an attending physician or proctor. Many are filmed for further training.

I’ve worked with oncology, family medicine, pharmacists, OBGYN’s and physical therapists.

It’s great fun! I have many stories about the cases I’ve played and weird + silly things that baby medical students have done.

Favorite simulated medical scenarios that come to mind:

- an ultrasound of my hip area; I think I was paid at least $50 to just lie there

- agitated schizophrenic case where I ended up accidentally denting the exam room wall

- revealing a teenage pregnancy to my mother in front of the doctor (worked with a partner actor on this in who played my mom! The students found our dynamic to be realistic)

- a BPD patient where the script called for “light goth makeup” lol

- mother of a boy with cancer; we did this in 3 parts - initial diagnosis, worsening condition where experimental treatment was discussed, transition to comfort care and saying goodbye. This one was filmed and when I went to the debrief room one of the proctors was crying real tears

- breast exam for the veteran’s hospital educational use - this was filmed too, and everyone - doctor, nurse, camera person, boom operator and director were female, which was very cool and empowering!

- abdominal exam where the student put gloves on first 😆

- student who was sweating so bad from nerves during his (graded) head-to-toe exam that he had to take his white coat off

- mother who brought her son into the hospital for a medical emergency (choking) who is told that he’s now considered brain dead and a decision must be made about pulling the plug. I did this one with a partner, the ‘grandma’ of the boy, who was a fantastic scene partner. Emotionally draining but rewarding.m as an experience.

- a patient who is just in for a medication refill, but who is talking a mile a minute and is so distracting that the goal is to see if the pharmacist notices that she’s been prescribed 500 mg instead of the regular 50 mg of her medication. For this one, the proctor who was observing admitted she was dying laughing watching me spout off anything that came to mind.

- daughter who learns that her mother is being transferred to hospice care and - surprise! - the daughter actually is more annoyed than anything, as she and the mother don’t really have a relationship. This one is great fun to play, as the students expect that I’ll be grieving, but instead I’m like, “Well, this is just GREAT, what horrible timing! 😠”

- I’ve also had to fake asthma, have my liver palpitated, have my ears dug at with that little light and have had my reflexes checked dozens of times

[w2writesstuff]

What W2 Wrote in 2023

Considering that I'm prrrrrobably not going to manage to put out anything else this year, yeah, let's do a roundup now while I've got a moment. (Note: Only includes fun stuff; no professional shit here.)

January

I can't even remember January. Nothing happens in Januaries.

February

to the beat of your heart, ch. 3 (MDZS) The ongoing adventures of a self-indulgent happy-ending everybody-lives-and-also-bones WangXian canon-divergent AU; a joint project between my wife and me.

It’s Hard to Say “I Do” When You Don’t (@shousetsubangbang) Original story about a guy whose long-time crush asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend at a family wedding. Fake dating ensues.

March

Kintsukuroi (DMBJ) This heihua piece may be the best thing I've written all year? Look, I'm just very proud of how I made it exactly what I wanted it to be.

April

Head (@shousetsubangbang) This was a last-minute fill because the story I wanted to write failed to make itself writeable. Oh well! Still a funny and cute blowjob.

May

to the beat of your heart, ch. 4 (MDZS)

I want to be where all the stupid shit I say sounds so romantic and true (Guardian, WeiLan) Someday I will write a longer and more complicated series of Guardian sex pollen shenanigans, but until then, enjoy this one.

The Rightful Ruler (The Blood of Youth, Lei Wujie/Xiao Se) Still the only English-language story on AO3 for this pairing! Includes maybe the funniest line I wrote all year? You make the call!

The Doctor is In (Psych-Hunter) I know nobody watched Psych-Hunter, and with good reason, but I did, and I think Jiang Shuo should get to spy on the sexy gay doctor if he wants to.

June

A Single Explosion (DMBJ, Pangxi + Xiao Ge) For PingPang Week, with @pangzi in mind. Here's the missing part of Ultimate Note, where Pangzi takes care of Xiao Ge in the hospital.

Dog (The Disguiser, Ah Cheng/Ming Lou) This was actually written before I saw the post going around about how the sexiest thing one guy can be is another's dog. But it's true!

And I am green, and you are wood (DMBJ/Mystic Nine) Another exchange fic, where Liang Wan gets a chance to meet all of Zhang Rishan's old (boy)friends, especially Ba Ye.

Reverse Cowgirl (Not Gay as in Take Off Your Pants and Jacket, Queer as in Dude Ranch) (@shousetsubangbang) Is this the hottest thing I've ever written for SSBB? Might just be. Lesbian ranch hands recruit a city girl.

July

Stay (Beyond Evil, Oh Jihwa/Yu Jaeyi) Because you know what that show needed? Small town lesbians.

Little Spear (The Blood of Youth, Sikong Qianluo/Xiao Se) This show has some cute het, but how it would work in bed is another matter entirely; or, two gay people try to have straight sex.

动须相应 (live-action Hikaru no Go, Yu Liang/Shi Guang) It's hard to get much gayer than the actual show without adding explicit sex, so ... here you go! Post-series boyfriends.

One Quiet Night (Kingdom, Seobi + Lee Chang/Yeongshin) This is the other thing I'm really proud of, because it too came out pretty much exactly the way I envisioned it. A nurse, a prince, and a scrappy piece of shit more or less all fall in love.

August

Hooks in My Sides (Beyond Evil, JWDS) This certainly was the most popular thing I've written all year. It's unfortunately easy to write poor Juwon having a gay meltdown.

A World Made Up of Silver and Copper (@shousetsubangbang) A prince-and-pauper scenario, this time focusing on the prince's adventures in being mistaken for himself. (Hint: they are sexy.)

September

...Funny how the first months of each semester are usually a complete wash for me creatively, huh?

October

to the beat of your heart, ch. 5 (MDZS)

Over My Dead Body (@shousetsubangbang) Nothing like the romance of possessing a corpse only to find he's not actually dead. (Note to DMBJ fans: This should taste like heihua.)

November

A fair amount of November was spent writing something that I just couldn't finish for December's SSBB, once I realized how long it'd have to be and how little free time I had. Maybe next year!

December

Antivenin (@shousetsubangbang) A mean bisexual and an even meaner lesbian team up to distract their gay boss from his terrible crush.

-

And that's it! It always feels kind of weird to see it all gathered in one place, like ... wow, that's not nearly as much as I thought it was. But at the same time, it involves a couple of pieces I feel very good about, so overall I'm going to take the win.

The most fun I had was doing my Small Fandom Summer thing, where I wrote fic for fandoms that had <1000 English-language works on AO3. Maybe I'll do that again next year!

Anyway, if you do wind up reading something, especially the original stuff, thanks. A lot of this can be a very lonely process, especially when there's not much of a built-in audience. Saying you liked something makes me feel a little less like I'm screaming into the void.

Onward to 2024!

[awesomedurraworld]

Today was my first time posting fma fics second year anniversary. It saddens me that this year I haven't been able to write as much as I used to- not because of life- but because I can't. My brain can't work with me when it comes to writing.

January was spent on writing a chapter for “ took my kids take my fire.” fic, which took a lot of energy to do since that fic has been draining to write as of late- as much as I love it and it is so dear to me, it has been hard putting out new chapters for it.

When I posted that it was in January the 24th, I started two birthday fics for Ed’s birthday- due to me joining in few completions for the clubs I am in in real life, I wasn't able to write and finish Ed’s fics.

I fell ill after that, on February 12th to be exact my health worsened all of a sudden, and I was admitted to the hospital on February the 15th. Spent 4 days there and I was just so drained when I came back home.

The rest of February, and the whole part of March I wasn't able to think of any ideas, the writer's block was so severe. Reading and writing was a hard thing for me to do. Especially parental fics ( be it parental Roy, Riza, Reigen or Loid) for some unknown reason. Then I tried doing something for Roy’s birthday fic but now it is sitting in my drafts and I only wrote like a couple of lines in it. Around Roy’s birthday I had a fallout with a close friend of mine and that fall out left me super confused and also, drained. Unable to really do anything.

Today tho. I was able to start writing a fic for my anniversary. God, I was able to think of an idea, and start writing it. And actually making paragraphs that made sense! I wasn't able to finish it since today was busy - the good kind of busy - but… I feel like I finally made it!

Point of this post I guess is that hey, I am alive, working on art for some big projects and I am going through some tough things in life and being your busy girl. Fics will come, and they might be less than 2023, but I promise, I will try my best to post some things soon

Just yea, thank you for reading my rambles, hehe, have a good day 🫶🏻❤️ love ya, and trust me, when it feels dark and not ending, it will end and you will be free

[bnhaobservation]

I just read your post about Enji’s atonement to Touya very well written and an interesting read but quick question - “the rest of his family wanted to forgive him way before he were to do something” when you say that the family was looking to forgive before he do something, so you mean they were looking to forgive Enji before he even started atoning?? Because I can see it with Fuyumi and maybe even Rei, but Shouto was not looking to forgive his father until Enji started to atone and looked to possibly forgive if Enji showed what type of father he would be!

Also I think Shouto also called Touya by his name after the reveal 🤔 oh actually I think if I remember correctly he slipped a little in the start but he also mostly called him by his name.

Thank you for enjoying my meta!

First of all a clarification.

When I said the family wanted to forgive him, I don't mean the family HAS FORGIVEN him. Their forgivance is conditional, they don't want to go back to how they were before but they're okay with giving him a chance.

Okay, so let's go through the timeline of Enji's atonement.

Around the end of September Enji has his talk with All Might. [Chap 165] According to chap 192 this is what kickstarts his idea he should atone... or, at least, that he should atone differently by how he was doing before.

This will lead him to try to approach Shouto in a manner that, I guess is different from before.

He reaches out, respects Shouto's refusal for it, tells him he's proud even if Shouto mainly used his ice and he's there because he failed his licence exam, there's no complaining but also no pressure on how he should have done this or that or that once Shouto gets his licence he should join his agency.

I'm not 100% sure about this but also Enji's speech to Shouto seems a step in his atonement path as he says he wants to make Shouto's proud, which, from my understanding, is not generally something Japanese fathers say. It's kids who've to make fathers proud and be grateful because the fathers gave them life, not the other way around.

By the end of November he's crowned Number 1 and then moves to Kyushu where he ends up fighting the high end.

While he's doing so, we learn he'll also started sending flowers to Rei and shows up to her hospital many times but she can't meet him yet and he respects this (I'm not sure if he started back then or he already did, poor Rei is a character HUGELY neglected so it can be that Rei is more willing to forgive Enji because actually there was more than just 2 months of flowers and visits)

Rei thinks this means Enji isn't leaving his past or his family behind.

As soon as Enji is back from Kyushu, Fuyumi throw a party for him and invites Natsuo and Shouto.

According to Natsuo, by this time, his mother and sister are willing to forgive him.

Shouto doesn't say he's willing to forgive him... but he makes clear he's willing to give him a chance, which is the first step on the path.

Fuyumi is touched and offers him more soba.

In the same month Enji sends plenty of texts to Shouto until Shouto replies he wants to learn flashfire fist.

After the Christmas Eve party at U.A. Shouto invites Midoriya and Bakugou to intern with him at Endeavor agency. Enji doesn't really want them but accepts to please Shouto.

On January 1st Shouto makes clear he will study under Enji but not because he's his father but because he's the Number 1 so doesn't want to be handled like a son. Enji accepts.

A week after Fuyumi invites them at a dinner.

At the end of it we get Shouto saying he doesn't know how to feel about Enji out of obligation due to how he hurt his mother... who however instead wants to forgive him, and Midoriya saying that Shouto is trying to get himself ready to forgive him.

Later the discussion about Touya also comes up.

I'll stop here.

A bit of cultural contest now.

Japan is pretty big about the need of harmoniously getting along. For all I searched about families who're victims of abuse (husbands abusing wife, parents abusing kids) but also other things abou bullying and so on, it seems one of the main goals wasn't so much to punish the culprit but to ripristinate the harmoniously getting along.

So I think in a way this too plays as a factor in why the family is the way it is.

Now what we have here?

Fuyumi ALWAYS wanted a family, so I think she always wanted to forgive him if he were to make an effort.

We don't exactly know where Rei stood before she decided she wanted to forgive him. Since Rei comes from a traditional family she was probably educated into Confucian values so she likely felt guilty for how things went wrong. She also might want to rebuld her family for her children's sake. So, even though she's still traumatized, she wants to forgive him and she might have always want to forgive him.

I tend to think Enji started sending her flowers when he decided to atone but don't we really know when he started so this might have had a longer build up or not.

Shouto doesn't really blame Enji for what he put him through even though it was traumatic, for him it was always what he did to his mother that was the worst sin. After the fight with the High End Shouto says he's not ready to forgive him... but, as Bakugo pointed out much later he doesn't say 'I'll never forgive him'. As Midoriya pointed out, Shouto wants to but he's not ready yet. Possibly he wants to for his mother and sister since they're willing to give this a try, maybe he wants to because, deep down, he'll also like to have a family. Hard to say.

The only one who states he'll never forgive Enji is Natsuo.

It's true, the fight with the High End is AFTER Enji decided to atone but... what exactly had he done that we know of by then beyond deciding to atone and sending Rei flowers?

Since Shouto claims he hadn't seen anything, I take for him he hasn't done anything.

Yet, Rei, Fuyumi and Shouto were all willing to give him a chance... Shouto's chance was likely more conditioned than the one Rei and Fuyumi were willing to give him (Shouto wants him to do something while probably Rei and Fuyumi would content themselves with Enji not doing anything bad) but still they were willing to give him one.

And having to deal with people who're willing to give you a chance makes things A LOT easier and since Enji did many things to atone in the end, it's easy to assume they will forgive him.

That's what I was trying to say, sorry if it didn't come out clear.

In regard to Shouto calling Touya with his name... Shouto alternates the two.

Post reveal, facing him, he goes for Touya, no 'Nī' (= "Brother") attached which is very rude and many won't do it even if their brother were to trying to kill them.

Then, once he's not facing him, when thinking about him or talking about him, he tends to call him 'Touya Nī' unless he's talking of him as a Villain ("Dabi's existence is my family crime").

When he faces Touya again, first he calls him 'Baka aniki' (馬鹿兄貴 “stupid brother”), then starts with 'Touya' (without 'Nī') but immediately switches to 'Dabi' and calls him as such through all the fight.

Okay, no, when Touya tells him he'll burn all Enji loves, Shouto calls him again 'Baka aniki' when he tells him he won't let him do it.

For the rest of the fight it's all Dabi.

Then after Shouto has frozen Touya and Touya has unfrozen himself, when he thinks about him he goes back to 'Touya Nī' and keeps on calling as such.

I think I didn't miss anything but I'm open to corrections if I did.

[majorxmaggiexboy]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Rules: answer the questions and tag fifteen mutuals

tagged by @beterparker shgjsghjksl!

1. Are you named after anyone?

according to my mother it’s the phonetic spelling (it is not) of Michaela Quinn medicine woman bc she liked the way Sully, specifically, pronounced the woman’s name but she did NOT want people nicknaming me Mike so fast forward to last year when one of my coworkers nicknamed me Mickey,,,,,momsauce was,,,,devastated,,

2. When was the last time you cried?

*Noir Detective Voice* Thursday, January 5th, 2022, hours before being diagnosed with COVID-19 and unknowingly six days into actually having it,,,,,ngl if i was like, a cartoon character, it would have been adorable and i find it infuriating but i fully did the, eyes swimming, valiantly holding back tears, until momsauce looks at me and FLOODGATES AND “I really don’t feel good” AND *STARTS SOBBING* 

3. Do you have kids?

yes i have two daughters, Amicia de Rune and Wednesday Addams thank you for asking

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

i don’t think what i use even counts as sarcasm, it’s too obnoxious

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

usually just that they’re in the room

6. What's your eye colour?

brown

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy Endings, though Bittersweet is also good. I like to have my emotions wrung out and turned into a baseball bat which is then used to ALMOST murder me but then the ending turns out to be a highly competent doctor which then Heals Me and waters my crops and builds me a little house in the countryside to live out my days in peace

8. Any special talents?

i think my developing-stories hobby counts as a talent? it doesn’t really qualify as ‘special’, but i do be coming up with some Stuff and can make some pretty big leaps from very small prompts on the fly, which i didn’t realize until a friend pointed it out.

oh, also don’t know if it counts as a talent since there’s no on and off switch on it but irl people tend to come tell me their problems/backstory/any Drama(tm) they have going on even if we’ve barely spoken before that so

9. Where were you born?

A hospital in Alabama

10. What are your hobbies?

Painstakingly outlining stories and then usually not writing them, daydreaming about Blorbos, analyzing fiction, crochet, painting, sewing, a few little videogames.

11. Have you any pets?

YES i have three boys their names are Norrell, Chellers, and Eggroll. Eggroll is actually the eldest, he is gray and fluffy and smaller than the others. He was an outside cat until last August, when we moved and brought him with us. He has been thoroughly enjoying his retirement from the outside cat life. Norrell is SealPoint and Squishy and has big paws and Chellers is a fluffy black cat with no bones, they’re both four. These three are perfect and silly and i love them so much

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I played Red Rover once. OH!! I did paintball once. I think we used to play foursquare fairly frequently. 

13. How tall are you?

Last time i was actually measured it was 5′1/2″ but i think it’s more like 5′2″ now, surely.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Originally it was Math but then we hit that part where Math was work and Language Arts was intuitive and it’s been Language/related ever since.

15. Dream job?

Being paid to live as Madame from The Aristocats

Tagging:

@therapardalis, @cutecutejames, @brassandblue, @poploppege, @slow-burn-sally, @castledock, anybody else who would like to!

[littlecajunlady]

Hold on, I actually have something to say about Lucky Spencer, his recasts, and the punishment of actors through character assassination.

Under a read more because I have A LOT to say:

For some reason, every January for the last few years, I watch clips of General Hospital - sometimes storylines I've seen before, and sometimes stories I want to see for the first time. This January I decided on Lucky (JJ) and Elizabeth, and I've watched every scene of theirs I could find from '97 to '99 and '09 to '11. I'd seen a few of their older scenes, a bit more of their recent scenes, but it was my first time watching everything from the beginning. Two months later and I'm still thinking about them, how sweet they were together as teens, and how the writers ruined them over and over again.

My first memory of watching GH was with my older sister, and it just so happened to be the episode in '99 with Lucky's funeral and the reveal that he was alive. As a lover of angst, I was enthralled. I wanted to know what happened next. Now in hindsight, that was truly the end for them. Sometimes I feel like Lucky died in that fire and he never came back. Lucky said it himself in a scene with Luke in '10 - "Elizabeth and I never recovered from that fire," and he was right. And it is so disappointing to me. A small part of me almost wishes I didn't know how good they were then, so that I never learned how far they'd fallen.

The characters as teenagers were beautiful together. They were IN LOVE, and they sold it, and had better chemistry than almost any characters I've ever seen. I know this is a soap opera and almost no one is allowed to stay married to one person, much less with their high school sweetheart, but I just wish they hadn't done so much deliberate, irreparable damage to this couple. And for what?

From the wiki I read recently, Jonathan Jackson wanted to leave as early as '96 or '97 and they convinced him to stay, which I'm grateful he did so we could get the Liz/Lucky story. I hate that he left, and really dislike recasts in general, but I would never begrudge an actor for wanting to move on from a soap opera, even if I miss them. And to expect an 11-year-old actor to commit to a lifetime as one character is ridiculous. He wanted to leave again in '11, and while that was incredibly disappointing, I understand why he did.

He's said in interviews that he wanted to work with Tony and Becky, and have Liz and Lucky reunite, and have lighter stories. I know actors rarely get a say in their storylines, that they've gotta shut up and do the work they're given, and I get that. But considering those requests were the whole reason he even agreed to come back in the first place, why did they apparently agree when they had no intention of following through? So he left, which was within his right to do. Creators/producers/writers don't have to cater to actors' wants, but then they shouldn't act surprised when the actor leaves when they've lied to get them in the door. So yeah, I don't blame him for leaving, and I'm happy for him that he got Nashville soon after.

Unfortunately, now Lucky has since been punished for this. They turned him into a deadbeat dad who doesn't see his kids. They absolutely did not have to do that. They could so easily say he talks to them at least once a week on the phone, that he sees them every few months, and sends them gifts on their birthdays. It might not be perfect but at least it's not the complete abandonment of his children. Jax was allowed an offscreen relationship with Josslyn, so why can't Lucky? It's so out of character for him to do this and the writers' motives are so transparent to me.

And frankly, I feel like they've been ruining Lucky since the first time JJ left. After running out of JJ scenes to watch, I finally grit my teeth and watched some scenes with the recasts. I watched some of JY's Lucky return storyline. The actor was fine I guess, but I didn't buy him as Lucky, and the chemistry with Liz just wasn't there anymore. I hate the brainwashing stuff and how he no longer loved Elizabeth. If I'd been watching this live then, I probably would've quit because that is NOT the story I would've wanted to see with these characters.

GV's Lucky is even worse. I'm sure the actor is good in other things but that character was definitely not Lucky. I mostly blame the writing, but every time I see him, I say aloud to myself, "I do not know this man." Lucky would not be a cop. From some scenes I've seen, he was controlling and downright mean to Elizabeth. He was so unlikable and annoying. While the drug addiction storyline is good for drama and a challenge for actors, I just don't buy that as a story for Lucky, and definitely not the cheating. Again, it's just so very out of character that I simply don't think of that man as Lucky - that rage-filled, Dudley Do Right cuckhold? I realize this sounds really harsh, and yes there were some nice moments too (I begrudgingly admit their 2005 wedding was very sweet) but for me the bad far outweighed the good. I don't know what the character (and actors) of Lucky did to deserve such character assassination

It's very telling to me that the moment JJ returned, Lucky was allowed to be smart again. Competent at his job. To actually be respected by the other characters. What a concept, huh? There's no way JJ would've returned to that mess of a character otherwise. I agree that it's fucked up that GV was fired and that JJ was told that GV moved on of his own volition, but I'm glad JJ returned for the time he did, even though they had no idea what to do with him.

Siobhan? She was fine at first but then became shrill. And she was just the rebound girl he never should've married. The Balkan storyline was definitely not one of their best. Lucky's exit - which both JJ and Tony complained about - by having Lucky leave his kids just before Christmas to go talk to some rocks? Wtf were they thinking? An actor leaves and they no longer have any obligation to make a satisfying conclusion for fans, I guess. The Liz/Nik affair was so gross to me. I don't know a lot about Becky's firing, but they clearly wanted to punish her and her character too before getting rid of her. While I hate what Liz did, I don't hate the character, because they clearly had some kind of vendetta against Becky to want to trash her character so thoroughly. And I understand that's even the nature of soap operas - that everyone gets the chance to fuck up and do unforgivable things - and I guess that's just an aspect of soaps that I absolutely hate. That some characters aren't allowed to stay good and true to themselves for the sake of drama and who's the daddy storylines.

I know there are GH fans now, and probably many back then, who are sick of LL2 and want Liz to move on. And that's fair. But I'm also sure that there were so many people who wanted them back together, especially after JJ returned. I was one of them. What an absolute waste of history and chemistry. Jonathan and Becky both wanted it. A lot of the fans wanted it. They didn't even have to keep them together forever - soap couples never last - but to NEVER allow these characters any happiness together when we finally had JJ back is one of the biggest fumbles I've ever seen. They ruined the characters a long time ago, and they ruined this couple yet again. And I'll never forgive that.

I want JJ to come back as Lucky, I always will, even if it's just for a little while. He probably won't, and why would he after last time? I don't want a recast but if they decided to then maybe I'd give him a chance, only because I want them to stop trashing the character. But honestly whoever they cast probably still won't be Lucky to me - JJ IS Lucky, and some characters just can't be recast. I'm trying to make my peace with that, and with the fact that the last time we saw the REAL Lucky and Liz happy together was back in 1999. The showrunner and writers at the time had the rare opportunity to fix that in 2010 and chose not to do it. Why? I could never guess.