#I wasn't even in icu yet

[xproskeith]

"When you hear about a virus spreading overseas, somewhere really far away, it feels foreign. There's this really weird feeling that it some won't affect you - that it won't get you."

- Josh Dun

Man he nailed it. That's how me and so many friends and especially fellow coworkers felt and joked about it. We had no idea the fresh hell that awaited us.

[doctorweebmd]

afa;ldf;lakdflk;asdf urgh sorry i've been MIA i unexpectedly got super busy with the grant and my grand rounds and having to pick up shifts for people with emergencies/illnesses/moving PLUS my 'graduation' is tomorrow so i'm all over the place AHHHHH

[callofdudes]

Hi this my first time requesting, if you do head canons, can you do ghost head canons where he has a crush on you. Please?

Hello 👋 of course I can do that for ya ☺️ I hope you are satisfied with them.

Ghost has a crush on you.

Ghost wouldn't pick up on it right away. He was very sheltered as a kid and romance wasn't his main concern, even as a teenager. He joined the military early on life so the thought of a relationship absolutely NEVER occured to him.

He starts to pick up little signs though. Whenever you smile his way or greet him in the morning he can feel his stomach twist in a way it's never done before. You start to become a big part of his daily thoughts and he starts to purposefully seek you out.

When you first join the task force he isn't sure about you. He's a man built on trust and constant betrayal so you're a threat to his environment. But you are on the softer side. You start to bring him tea in the morning when he's stocked high by paperwork and start idle conversation during training.

He starts to realize that a lot of things he would do alone start to include you.

He found himself excited to spar with you in the morning or to join your table in the lunch hall. Every small thing you do makes him feral in a way he's never experienced.

It's platonic, but the first time you hold his hand he's a disaster. A. Fucking. Disaster. He wants to swat you away and curse you out for touching him without permission. He wants to pull away and find a corner where he cannot be bothered. And another part of him drops his shoulders and sits/stands there in bliss. The feeling of your warm palm soaking through his gloves. How you grasp his hand so firmly and yet it's so reassuring.

Ghost doesn't understand his feelings so he often gets frustrated with you and himself. He'll mutter and even yell at himself sometimes at night about what he was letting you do to him. Whatever it was. He'd lay awake in his bed thinking of you and all the conversations you'd had that day as his stomach drops in this weird way.

Tries admitting himself to the ICU for heart problems after you giggle at a very sarcastic joke he makes.

You're not dating yet but you for hell better treat him right. Bean is very hurt on the inside and it'll take a lot of nurturing for him to come clean to you about his affection.

He's scared when he takes off his mask in front of you and the others. Of course the others were seeing his face for the first time excepting Price. But something about the way your eyes locked. You looked over every scar. His jaw, his throat and his messy untamed hair. He almost felt ashamed. He felt so small until you smiled and nodded in what almost looked like approval.

Refuses to show you again though, even if you ask.

Being completely unsure of his emotions he grows protective over you. He has become very alert of when other men talk to you or when women give off a flirty remark. It makes his insides hurt and it confuses him as to why he cares.

Now, when he does figure it all out, he cannot, and will not come forth. You could kiss him on the lips and he won't say a word.

He physically can't say 'I love you'. Not because it isn't true, but he's never heard it said to him before, and he's never said it. He doesn't know love or how to love. He's scared of commitment and hurting you.

So instead he'll start leaving little notes and gifts in your sector. He'll watch from his desk filing paperwork as you walk in with a smile and a box of mints in your hands.

When you get hurt out on the field he panics. He does everything he physically can do protect you on missions and is even more alert on stakeouts. If there is a threat to you better rest assured Ghost is putting himself between you and the threat even if it's a fucking train.

What you do for him, he starts to do in return. He is always up first so when you get up and make it to your desk, Ghost is already there with a warm cup of coffee for you. You always see the way he stiffens and his eyes light up when you thank him.

Scary guard dog privileges.

Going on nightly patrol? He's your shadow. Going to a secondary base? He's your shadow. Bring harassed or annoyed. He's your fucking shadow.

It took a while of back and forth of witty remarks and hour long conversations but eventually you manage to confess to him. You were terrified because Ghost was a rollercoaster of mixed signals that whole time.

"I love you, Simon Riley."

Literally just stared at you.

And then slowly nods his head.

Your getting nervous at this point. Does he like you? Does he not like you? Is he about to kill you for saying such a thing? What do you do?

Simon over there is sweating bullets because. What does he do? The most beautiful person in the whole world is staring at him with love and adoration equal to a puppy and has just confessed to having the same tumbling stomach syndrome as himself.

"me too."

"You like you too??" You gulp.

"No! Me- you! You and me- fuck. I feel the same. I think. But I'm not sure yet."

You understand. He's a bit shy suddenly, surprisingly. He gets the hang of the whole boyfriend thing with your help. Though he's certainly an extraordinary man.

Has never kissed so when you roll up his mask and place your lips upon his... HOLY FUCK. Do it again. He's got no damn clue what he's doing but he will hold your neck as if you are glass and try to bring you ever closer.

He will suffocate himself on you until he's literally forced away. His new favorite thing to do is kiss you. Every chance he gets he'll kiss you. (Hates PDA though.)

He's very touch starved so you have a lot of work to catch up on.

I hope this works! I will die on the hill that Ghost is clueless at first on how all the love stuff works. ❤️

[munsonfamilyband]

In Everything But Blood (Pt. 2)

Finally, I have returned with part 2 of the random thing I came up with at 2 in the morning while finishing a 40 page paper.

TW medical descriptions (likely also inaccuracies), mentions of blood/bodily fluids, hospitals, mentions of parental abuse/neglect

~~~~~~~

The nurses assured them that Steve was doing better by the third day in the ICU.

It was hard to believe them when he was still being sedated and pumped full of as many antibiotics as they could give him. It was even harder when he looked so small in the sterile hospital bed. His skin was waxy and still had a pale yellow tinge to it, except for his cheeks that had remained flush and red since he had been found by Claudia in his room. His hair was limp and sweaty, which just broke her heart because she knew he would hate it.

Claudia had only left for brief periods of time when Jim was around, never wanting Steve to be alone, to not have a parent with him. (She recognized that this desire came both from her maternal instincts and from the conversation she had briefly had with Jim after he showed up the first day. She had asked if the Harringtons could, or even should, be contacted about Steve and Jim had just scoffed. Apparently he had tried to call Steve's parents in '84 when he had protected the kids from Billy Hargrove. Apparently all they did was say that Steve was being overdramatic and they would be home when they could. Apparently they didn't come home until well into the new year.) The first time she had to leave was to pick Dusty up from the Wheelers, the night Steve had been brought in.

When Dusty slid into the front seat of Jim's car he immediately turned to Claudia with a confused frown on his face. "Why are you driving Hopper's car?" He paused and looked at her appearance, taking in the now brown stains on the front of her sweater and around her cuticles, the smell of cleaner that he no doubt knows only clings to her when she has work. "Mom... what happened?"

Claudia took a shuddering breath in, leaning her head back against the headrest to steady herself before having to tell her Dusty news that will certainly break his heart. "You know I had lunch plans with Steve today, right?" She looked over at him, her heart in her throat as she saw the dawning realization on her son's face. He nodded slowly before she continued speaking. "He was supposed to come by around noon, but by 1 I hadn't heard from him and he hadn't shown up-"

"But that doesn't make sense, Steve is like, perpetually on time," Dustin cut in, his brow furrowed and clearly trying to deny what he knows the logical conclusion is.

"I know, sweety, that was my thought too. So I drove over to his house, and the porch light was off so I knew something wasn't right." She paused here to take another deep breath, blinking back tears. "He was in his room and... he was hurt, badly. I called an ambulance and he was taken to the hospital-"

"What?! Mom, why didn't you call- he can't- I need to see him-" Dustin's voice cracked with anguish, tears already welling up.

"Dusty, I know you want to see him, but, baby, he can't-"

"No! Mom, I have to- his parents aren't-" She interrupted his panicking and pulled him across the center console into a tight hug. He muffled his sobs into her chest, clinging to her sweater with white knuckled fists.

"I know they aren't, baby, but they also aren't his emergency contacts any more. He's in the ICU right now so only family can visit. Jim, Robin and I are all his emergency contacts so we're allowed to see him right now. And-!" She quickly spoke to prevent Dustin from interrupting again. "I know you're also family to him but he's in really bad shape right now, and you and I both know he wouldn't want you to see him like this. I'm going to be visiting him for a while so I'll bring you with me so you can see Eddie, and I can try to bring him something if you want him to have anything, but you can't visit yet." Dustin just sobbed harder into her chest, clinging to her in the same way he had when she found him after the mall burned down. "I know, Dusty, I know." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, holding him close as they both cried.

~~~~~~

After a week of constant antibiotics and sedation the doctor informed them that Steve was going to be moved out of the ICU and into a regular room. Claudia knew that he wasn't fully better yet but this was significant progress. It meant that Steve wasn't at constant risk and it also meant that he could have regular visitors.

He was being moved in the morning so Claudia and Robin were alone, sitting together in his room. Claudia was sitting in a chair with her knitting (that she snuck in, after thoroughly sterilizing it first of course) and Robin was sitting on Steve's bed with a wet cloth as she tried to clean some of the grease out of his hair. She had the same heartbroken look on her face that she had all week.

“Robin, honey, I know what you’re thinking…” Claudia made sure to speak softly. Robin was clearly hanging by a thread. “It’s not-“

“But it is my fault! I knew he was hurt and I just-I just went home. I left him alone and hurt and-“ Robin cut herself off to take a deep breath. “How could I forget that he was hurt?”

“Honey, you had all just been through a lot and you wanted to check on your parents, that's okay. As much as it frustrates me to say, Steve chose to not get seen.”

“Exactly! He insists he's fine but he never is! It’s my job to make sure he takes care of himself because otherwise he won’t.”

“I know you two are close, but sweetie, you don’t have to take care of him.”

“I do, because-because he’s my-my-… he’s mine. And I’m his, and we take care of each other. I can’t-…I don’t know what I would do without him. So I have to make sure he’s safe, just like he does for me….. And I failed him.”

Claudia had thought her heart couldn't break further, but that one statement proved her wrong. She set her knitting aside and hurried over to Robin's side, gently taking the cloth out of her hands before pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh, Robbie... I know, sweetie, I know. But he's doing better now, alright? Let's focus on that, we can't focus on how we got here."

~~~~~

When Claudia was finally told Steve could have regular visitors it felt like a weight lifting from her shoulders. Visitors was a good thing - a great thing, even - because it meant he was getting better. He was still sedated, though they were lowering his doses slowly, and his doctors said that he was taking to the skin grafts beautifully. Looking at him still made her throat close up in panic, but it was lasting less and less time every time she saw him.

Telling Dustin was... interesting. He was overjoyed but then deflated when she made sure he understood that they couldn't all visit at once and he still wasn't awake.

She shouldn't have been surprised that Dusty and his friends found a way to show Steve they cared without being able to all be there.

The first time she was able to bring Dustin to see Steve he had dragged a huge bag with him into the car, just saying it was for Steve when asked. She found out what that meant when he immediately opened it after entering Steve's room. Inside were gifts from all of his friends. There was a blanket that looked suspiciously like the one from Joyce's couch, a set of hair clips and a new brush, bottles of shampoo and conditioner (these were handed to Robin who cracked a smile for the first time in days). There were also cards and drawings and photographs. Dustin went around and started propping them all up wherever he could, even pulling out tape to put up some of the drawings.

Claudia immediately recognized Will's art style but the drawings themselves were odd. There was one of Steve holding a baseball bat, studded with what looked like nails, surrounded by cars. Another had Steve in the adorable work uniform he had the previous summer, standing next to Robin with a white board in her hands. One looked like Steve, with suspiciously familiar injuries, ripping apart some creature that looked like that weird alien from the movie. She wanted to ask but the way Robin laughed at the one she was in kept her from interrupting the moment. Robin needed to laugh more.

~~~~

The next few days were a rotation of children. The Sinclairs showed up together, rolling Max into the room in her wheelchair. The Byers stopped in one day, with the Wheelers showing up the next. Each visit was marked with cards and photos, everyone telling Steve some story to keep him informed.

Jim showed up most days, but one day he brought along his daughter.

Claudia knew of Jane, but had yet to meet her, since she had moved with the Byers while Jim was gone. She had been informed that Steve and Jane had been close before the move, so seeing the pure devastation on her face wasn't a surprise.

Claudia watched as Jane sniffled and then pulled a, frankly, offensively bright button down out of her bag and walked over to Robin with it. She whispered something in her ear that made Robin smile before gently taking the shirt from her hands. Robin started maneuvering Steve to place in under the back of his head with Jane's help and they both tied it around his head.

"Hi Steve, it's El- Ellie." She sniffed and wiped under her eyes quickly before continuing. "I know you're asleep right now but I wanted to help you keep your hair nice, like you showed me. So I brought Dad's shirt and Robin is helping tie it over your hair so it won't get so gross. I hope you like it. I miss you." She bent down once Robin had Steve fully settled and placed a kiss on his cheek before walking away, going right over to her dad and falling into his arms.

~~~~

The days continued like that, until Steve was fully off of the sedatives. After that it was a matter of waiting.

Robin still showed up every day she could, same with Jim. Claudia was there every second that she wasn't at home.

Robin had finally been forced to go home for a meal after Steve had passed his second full week in the hospital. The nurses said that he should wake up soon, but Claudia insisted that Robin needed to eat and get cleaned up.

Dusty and a few of his friends were just across the hall with his friend Eddie who had been awake for almost a week now. He was gaining his strength back and if Claudia strained to listen she could here his laughter from the hall.

She was sitting beside Steve's bed, knitting in the quiet when she heard the sheets shifting. Glancing up made her do a double take because Steve's face was all scrunched up. The same expression he had made the previous summer when he woke up with a concussion.

Claudia was out of her seat before she was consciously aware of moving, rushing to perch gently on Steve's bed and grab his hand.

"Steve, sweetie, you're okay." She was petting his hair back with the hand not gripping his and she watched his eyes squint open, just barely able to see hazel. He glanced slowly around the room, head lolling from side to side, before looking back at her.

"Mom..." His voice cracked from misuse, barely even audible but she heard it nonetheless, eyes immediately filling with tears.

"Yeah, sweetie, mom's here, I've got you." She bent down and hugged him to her, breath hitching when she felt one of his hands grip her sweater.

~~~~

Steve kept healing, awake this time, and he had a constant carousel of visitors.

Robin had started sobbing when she saw him awake, which just made him cry too. She had climbed into his bed and they had clung to each other for hours. Dustin had nearly collapsed when he walked in, not paying attention to Steve, and heard Steve speak. El had frozen in place before silent tears started to fall and she ran to hug him. The other kids had similar responses, even Jim teared up when he saw Steve awake. (And, if Claudia had overheard them talking late one night on her way back from a snack break, and heard Steve call Jim dad. Well, that's none of her business.)

Almost 4 days after Steve woke up, Claudia heard crutches in the hallway and looked up just in time to see Eddie slowly making his way into the room.

"Eddie! Look at you, up and moving around! Here, let me get you a chair." Claudia rushed around, pulling a chair up to Steve's bedside so Eddie could drop into it with a grateful smile. Steve had been watching TV and muted it to look at Eddie.

"Thanks, Mrs. H," Eddie spoke to her before turning all of his attention to Steve, a soft smile on his face. A glance at Steve showed the same smile and she watched as they talked, hands slowly inching closer together on top of the sheets.

Claudia went back to her knitting and watched over them, just happy that Steve had someone else in his life. She could see the bits of longing in the way they looked at each other, the laughter that Steve normally reserved for Robin, the gentle touches.

As Steve's mom she knew she would have to talk to Eddie later, but for now she was content watching young love grow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST

@maya-custodios-dionach @eldtritchlizardblast @y4r3luv @devondespresso @zerokrox-blog @disrespectedgoatman @estrellami-1 @lingeringmirth @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @spectrum-spectre @steddieasitgoes @puppy-steve @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @nburkhardt @sllooney @princessstevemunson @yellowdevilkitten @emchant3d @steddie-island @afewproblems @gregre369 @bookbinderbitch @salty-h0e @steddie-as-they-go @marvel-ous-m

[chronicowboy]

The first time Chris asks to see Buck, Eddie doesn't hesitate before saying no. The second, third, fourth, fifth times follow immediately after, Christopher's fury growing with each denial. But Eddie doesn't budge. He'll accept the abuses hurled at him, accept the weak punches Chris throws at his chest, accept the I HATE YOU! and slammed bedroom door.

Its nothing he doesn't deserve.

The sixth time Christopher asks, teary-eyed and pleading, Eddie wavers and says not yet. Chris huffs, but he grabs onto that little bit of hope like a lifeline. Eddie doesn't have the heart to tell him that hope is useless.

See, thing is, he knows Christopher is growing up. He knows his son is old enough to handle seeing Buck in a hospital bed - or, well, maybe not handle it, but he knows he's old enough to decide when he's ready to see Buck himself. But Eddie isn't ready.

Eddie wasn't ready when he tried to haul Buck back up onto the ladder, Eddie wasn't ready when he had to relinquish Buck's life to the others with no idea what was happening, Eddie wasn't ready to see Chimney straddling Buck's torso and begging Buck to wake up, Eddie wasn't ready to watch the doctors roll a still unresponsive Buck through the glass doors, Eddie wasn't ready to see Buck cold and still with a tube down his throat.

Christopher's always been braver than him.

But, selfishly, Eddie doesn't think he could handle seeing Chris beg Buck to wake up or say-

No. Eddie knows he couldn't handle it.

And, fuck, maybe its the wrong choice to keep Chris from getting to say goodbye to another parent. Its probably, definitely the wrong choice. But Eddie can't- He just can't.

He can't do this. He can't say goodbye.

Not to Buck.

Its when an Uber pulls up to the house and he catches Christopher trying to sneak out the front door that he realises he couldn't keep them apart anymore than he could have stopped that lightning from hitting Buck.

(You could have stopped it. You could have gone up in his place. You could have been faster. You could have been the one doing CPR. You could have-)

Eddie just grabs his keys and ushers Chris towards the Jeep - a fucking jeep, really? what is it? spit on Eddie day? - waiting for them outside.

He doesn't expect Chris to celebrate, but he also doesn't expect the stony silence that suffocates them in the back of the car. When Chris sniffles, Eddie grabs his hand and lets his own tears roll down his cheeks.

He should say something, but there aren't any words for this. This much he knows.

There weren't any last time either.

Eddie doesn't really register the journey from the parking lot up to Buck's room in the ICU. Not until Christopher suddenly goes very, very still and grabs his hand.

There's not a single part of Eddie that hasn't been shattered since he pushed himself up onto shaky arms and saw Buck hanging from the ladder, still, too still, but right now its the first time he really feels like he's going to fall apart.

"He's in there?" Chris asks, voice tiny and small and so, so scared.

"Yeah, buddy," Eddie croaks, "he's in there. But you don't have to go -"

"Yes. I do." Christopher takes a deep breath and marches towards the door like he's about to walk onto a stage.

Eddie follows. After a moment.

Chris has always been braver than him.

(He hasn't been in Buck's room once. Had only looked at him from beyond the window to his room for a few moments before using Christopher as an excuse to flee. Because he's a coward.)

Eddie doesn't know why he expects Buck's room to be empty. His family is at its biggest right now, even if Eddie remains quietly suspicious of Margaret and Phillip's sudden redemption. And he knows no one would ever let him be alone for more than a bathroom break or a coffee run.

Eddie doesn't know why he's so surprised to see Hen offering Chris her chair by Buck's bedside. She's known Buck the longest - along with Bobby and Chim of course, but between Bobby's superiority and Chimney's rebar, they'd gotten closest the fastest. He doesn't know why he expected Hen to still be at home with her wife and kid.

(Maybe because he'd been desperately jealous that she had someone to shoulder the weight with her.)

The grief-stricken, knowing look Hen shoots him is enough to have his chest tightening up worse than the suit shop.

And then, Christopher reaches for Buck's hand, looking so goddamn young but so fucking determined, and Eddie thinks it'd be fucking typical of him to have a heart attack three days after Buck's heart stops.

"I-I'm sorry, I c-can't." He glances at Hen in what he hopes she understands is a plea to look out for Christopher before fleeing from the room.

His legs don't take him far. His legs were made to get him up that fucking ladder to Buck. His legs weren't made to take him away from him. So, he collapses back against the wall under the window and sinks to the floor just as the first sob racks his body.

Its a painful thing. Like its torn from the very depths of him. Like someone has used the Jaws to pry his chest open and is ripping chunks of his organs out of him.

Its a desperate thing. A prayer and a plea to a universe he doesn't believe in.

Its a quiet thing, however. Because Eddie mastered that art so well that it is deeply ingrained in him.

Its a quiet thing which is why he can still hear Christopher's voice through the thin hospital walls.

"Buck, you promised me-" Christopher's words break, and Eddie breaks with them, pressing his fists into his eyes as hard as he can. "You promised you weren't going anywhere, and you never break your promises."

Eddie doesn't remember this promise. He remembers a hundred pinkie promises between his son and his- His Buck. But he doesn't remember this one. He wonders if it was before or after the-

It was before. Eddie knows Buck well enough to know it was before.

"Wake up, Buck. Please, I-"

Eddie's a coward. He's a coward, that's why he can't get up from the floor. He's a goddamn fucking coward.

"I want my dad," Chris wails, and Eddie doesn't know how he manages it - thinks briefly of stories about mothers lifting cars off their babies - but the next thing he knows he's watching Christopher bury his face in Buck's shoulder.

The left one, not the one with the Lichtenburg figures, the one near his heart.

Eddie doesn't need to look at Hen's tear-streaked face to know that Christopher wasn't asking for him.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

i am so in love with your comfort one shots. Can you write one about reader's mom is sick and y/n is worried and chris is there for reader because y/n is scared?

Going through that right now with my mom, she is in the ICU right now ;(

Forever by my side

PAIRING | Fiancé!Chris Evans x Fiancée!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.6K

SUMMARY | Your mom took a nasty fall down the stairs, and you're rushing to get back home. You don't have a way of contacting Chris, but when he shows up at the airport to be by your side, you know exactly why you said yes to this man when he asked you to marry him.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Hurt/comfort, mentions of a bad fall, broken bones, lots of tears and even more tooth rotting fluff at the end.

A/N | I'm so sorry to hear about your mom being in the ICU; I wish I could give you the biggest hug! (Or send Chris your way for an even bigger hug 👀), I hope she will quickly recover and be out of the ICU soon! Hopefully, this will be the comfort you are looking for right now, and I wish for this to make you feel a little bit better 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs would be very much appreciated 🩷

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Chris Evans Masterlist

Today is just a regular day at work filled with meetings, lots of paperwork, and even more meetings. This all changed when you suddenly got a phone call from your Dad because he only calls you at work when it's an absolute emergency.

You run out of the meeting room after excusing yourself before picking up.

''Dad? Is everything okay?'' you say when the door behind you is closed.

''Hi Darling, I'm sorry to bother you at work, but your mom just had a terrible fall down the stairs after she slipped, and she got taken to the hospital with an ambulance,'' he says, and the words don't seem to get through after ''bad fall''.

The world comes to a stop all around you, and your breathing gets quicker while the world around you seems to go in slow motion. Your phone drops out of your hand, shattering as it hits the ground below.

The only sound coming from you was a broken sob as you sank onto your knees, and your colleague rushed over to you to comfort you.

''What happened?'' she asks, but it sounds like you're underwater, and her words don't really register with you.

''M-my mom...'' you croak out, and you completely break down right then and there, not caring who sees or hears you. The woman you love and adore shouldn't be in the hospital, yet there she is right now.

''Y/N?'' your Mom asks as she walks into your room. ''Are you awake, Honey?'' she asks, and you stretch as she walks in.

''Mornin' Mom,'' you say, followed by a yawn.

''How was your last night in your parents' house?'' she asks with a big grin and a small tear. This afternoon you're moving to the other side of the country for a new job opportunity.

''Weird, but overall, I slept okay,'' you tell her as you sit up. You love these conversations in the morning, and your Mom was there every single morning without fail.

''Good, I'm glad to hear it. Now, shall we head down for some breakfast before your flight?'' your Mom asks, and you nod. She leaves the room, and you pick up the outfit that you laid out the night before, stepping into it.

''Is our girl ready for our last breakfast before moving to Boston?!'' your Dad asks, and you chuckle. ''Yeah, I am! Hit me with those waffles!'' you say as you sit down.

The conversation over breakfast is light and exactly what you need right now. The tears and heavy conversations would be saved for the airport.

Your parents decided to drive you to the airport to say goodbye to their last daughter, who would officially move out of the house in a few hours.

It wasn't too bad when it was time to say goodbye to your Dad; a few tears were shed, but nothing compared to your Mom. 

''Honey, please promise me you will take care of yourself and that you will call me as soon as you land, okay?'' she says as she pulls you into a bone-crushing hug.

''I promise, Mom, please don't worry about me. You know I'll be fine,'' you tell her, trying to fight the tears - without success.

''I love you so much, Honey, and I wish you all the luck in the world in Boston,'' she says, unable to fight back her tears.

The two of you fell into each other's arms and sobbed loudly until it was time for you to leave, and you waved goodbye with tears streaming down your face.

This is definitely the hardest goodbye you have ever had to go through.

Somehow you made your way to the airport in one piece, already waiting on the first flight home. Suddenly it occurred to you that you must inform Chris; you can't return to your parents without him.

You realize what has happened to your phone and can't reach him at that moment. When you started panicking about how to call him, you heard his voice through the airport.

''Y/N!'' he shouted, and it echoed through the airport. ''Y/N, where are you!'' he said again, and you quickly stood up to follow where the voice came from.

''Chris? How did you-'' is all you say before he reaches you and envelops you in a big hug.

''It's okay, Bubby, everything will be okay,'' he shushes you as you rock back and forth while you completely break down in his arms.

When you had calmed down a little, Chris went to grab a water bottle and got recognized by some fans, but he politely told them that now wasn't a good time for a photo, but he did sign some quick autographs.

He returns with 2 bottles of water and hands one to you before twisting the other for himself.

''What happened?'' he asks as he sits beside you.

''My Dad called and said she was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, she had a nasty fall down the stairs and broke many bones, and she was unconscious when the ambulance arrived,'' you tell him as he pulls you in for a big hug.

''She's going to be okay, Bubby. She's a lot stronger than she looks,'' he tells you, and you know he's right.

''I'm glad to have you by my side, and I think they would be pleased to see you again,'' you tell him, thinking back to the first time they met Chris.

''Are you ready to meet them?'' you ask, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

''As ready as I'll ever be,'' he sighs as the two of you head into your parents' house. You have been together for nearly 6 months, and they invited both of you over for a family dinner.

''Good afternoon, I'm Chris,'' he says as he introduces himself to your parents.

''Oh, Y/N, you didn't mention you're dating the famous Chris Evans!'' your Mom joked, knowing full well you told them to prepare them.

''Just kidding, Chris, Y/N has told us all about you. It's nice to finally meet the man who makes her look like she's glowing,'' she says, and you have the widest smile on your face.

''I told you they'd like you!'' you say as the two of you walk out to the garden, ready to meet the rest of the family too.

''Yeah, yeah, you were right!'' he says before leaning down and giving you a soft peck on your lips.

The flight went on without a hitch, and before you knew it, you were in your Dad's arms, crying as you finally felt the release of being back home and back with your Mom.

''Darling, thank you so much for coming, and you too, Chris,'' he says as he nods to him.

''Anything for Y/N, and of course, you and Lily, too,'' he says. He walks over to both of you and softly brushes your hair out of your face before kissing the top of your head.

''When can we go see her?'' you ask, and your Dad tells you it should be soon.

''I believe she's coming out of surgery at any moment now,'' he says, and you nod before sitting down with either one of them on your sides.

You reach out for both of their hands, and your gaze is fixed on the door; Chris strokes your hand softly with his thumb.

After what seems like an eternity, she gets wheeled through the doors, and you shoot up, practically running to her with tears streaming down your face again.

''Mom! Mom, I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you when you fell. But I'm here now, and I won't leave your side until you're all better,'' you ramble, even though she's not even conscious yet.

''Bubby, come on. Let's sit by her bed until she wakes up, okay?'' Chris says, and you nod, letting the nurse put the bed into place.

Chris sinks into one of the chairs beside the bed and pulls you onto his lap so you're sitting sideways on his thighs. Your head is leaning against his shoulder, and after all the stress and not knowing, you slowly drift off to sleep in the warmth and safety of Chris' arms.

''Bubby, wake up,'' he says softly after about 2 hours; he and your Dad have been wrapped up in conversations the entire time you were asleep, careful not to wake you.

''Honey? Is that you?'' you hear, and suddenly you're wide awake and next to your Mom's hospital bed.

''Mom, I'm here. You're okay, you took a bad fall down the stairs, but you're going to make a full recovery,'' you tell her while you hold her hand.

''Chris is here too, and Dad as well,'' you tell her, and she slowly turns her head.

''Hi, Lily; I'm sorry about what happened”, Chris says as he walks over to hold your Mom's hand.

''You have always been my favorite son-in-law, you know that?'' she says, and all three of you burst out in laughter. ''What's so funny?'' your Mom asks, and you're just happy she can still joke.

''I missed you so much, and I love you, Mom,'' you tell her and give her a soft kiss on her forehead.

''I love you too, Honey. Thank you for coming all this way to see me,'' she says, and the rest of the night is spent in light conversations and laughter until it is time to go home.

''Do you two want to sleep in your old room, or will you book a hotel?'' your Dad asks.

''We will stay with you, but only if we get waffles in the morning!'' you tell him, and he agrees.

''Deal,'' he says, and all three of you walk out of the hospital and to the car, all in dire need of rest.

''I love you, Chris. Thank you for being here with me,'' you say as he hugs you again.

''There's nowhere else I'd rather be,'' he says before kissing your lips passionately, lovingly.

[philtstone]

for the writing meme - Juliet and Lassiter, platonic? :)

this pov is so wildly outside my comfort zone that im in the stratosphere rn and as such i have no idea how i feel about this. that said: tag for 4x09, aka shawn spencers horrible no good very bad day, ft. a scene i am convinced must have happened.

As if the rest of today hasn’t been horrifying enough, when Lassiter gets back to the empty hospital waiting room with the requested 9-p.m.-hail-mary-verge-of-collapse coffee and truly-unwieldy large-sized woman’s purse in his hands, O’Hara is blubbering.

Despite his partner’s bubbly exterior and inexplicable desire to speak with awful regularity about his feelings, she has, since first meeting, more than impressed him with her steel stomach, unflappable cool, and general fortitude in the face of evil, gore, and worldly destruction. Coming head on against the lowest scum of humanity’s underbelly has yet to have cracked her almost belligerent, cotton-candy-wrapped, peach-scented determination to take their job seriously, and it isn’t until right now, right at this exact miserable unfortunate second, that Lassiter realizes: 

Beyond a few stoic cases of Misty Eye and, admittedly, more than a few instances of dreamy girlish exuberance, he has never actually seen Juliet O'Hara cry.

As in, the Real McCoy. Unfiltered feminine waterworks. Mascara smeared down her face, perfect updo unraveling, exhausted, snotty, blubbery sobbing into her dainty little manicured hands.  

Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Oh, Mary and Joseph and Christmas and Justice and everything in between.

Lassiter freezes with the coffee and the purse precariously in arm, his exhausted body wedged within the half-open door, and stares at her. 

She stares back, equally frozen. Her watery miserable bloodshot eyes, already in the realm of grotesquely-Disney-princess-flavored large, grow unbearably larger until they achieve the size of small and glassy bluebell colored dinner plates. 

“Oh! C-Carlton,” she squeaks.

Then sniffles.

Her chin is wobbling.

Horror he did not know he was capable of feeling clouds his general consciousness. Panic, borne of a fight-or-flight instinct ingrained into the hard edged fiber of his belligerent being since aged twenty, wells up rapidly within his chest.

Even when confined to an ICU bed with a bullet hole in his goddamn shoulder, Shawn Spencer is still capable of causing him problems. One of these days, Lassiter's going to lock the little twerp up in that smelly corner alcove underneath Dobson’s desk for a full forty-eight hours – maybe more! – just to teach him a lesson.

Except O’Hara would probably disapprove.

Which is exactly the fucking problem, isn’t it.

“O – O’Hara,” he manages to croak, before squeezing with an ungaining shimmy through the rest of the way into the room. He makes it two awkward steps forward before a slow and sad zzziiip sounds out and O'Hara's too-full purse and the tray of coffees in his hands flop forward and overbalance. Fumbling, he tries to fit all the indiscernibly woman-ish bits and pieces of her handbag back together into some semblance of organization so she doesn't think he's gone through her things while also balancing the coffees in his other hand. A tube of lipstick clatters to the floor while a disastrous bundle of frilly pink yarn tangles itself around his arm. He can hear the faint sound of a nurse paging someone over the hospital speaker system and the white lights of the waiting room grate against his eyeballs.

Who carries their knitting in their purse to a car chase?

… O’Hara, he supposes. O’Hara does that. He already knew this about her.

"Goddam -- goddammit."

“... Carlton?” she says again, querulously, in the smallest, most pathetic tone of voice he has ever heard emit from her smiley pink mouth. She looks flustered, almost afraid, like he wasn’t supposed to see her like this.

He probably wasn't. She'd forgotten her bag in the back of Guster's stupid little car, she said not ten minutes ago, and could he please go grab it when he went to get the coffee? She'd stay behind and get started on their ass-load of paperwork. That was the deal! The straightforward, simple deal. Basic series of steps. He'd had to go get the keys from Gus, who'd finally convinced the doctors to let them into the surgery room. Abigail sat beside him, pale and shaken but pleasant. Shawn was sleeping but fine. The purse was half-spilled against the backseat but there. The day was over but not really, because Lassiter had been waiting, hands itching with a vicious twitchiness he hasn’t felt in a long time, to get the hell out of Santa Barbara General so he could head to the station – a place of blessed and reliable familiarity – and book their miserable scum sucking lowlife rat bastard shit stick of a perp away for life. 

Lot of buts today, he thinks. It's a generally unhelpful thought.

“You – coffee – I – here –” He clears his throat, gives up, and lets the twirling trail of little crocheted flowers dangle sadly from his arm. Then he frowns, and straightens up. “O’Hara,” he says, loudly and a little too firmly.

She looks anguished. It’s terrible. 

“I d-didn’t mean – I w-was only just – I’m like, really tired? And sometimes when you’re tired, y-you just n-need to – to cry a little bit, but that’s not –! There’s nothing wron – it’s fine, I am – J-just because he said – and I can't even go in the - it’s not even th-that – n-none of this means – it’s just been a v-very – day, and –”

Somehow the panicked and incoherent babbling is worse.

“Jesus,” is all he can offer, still holding the purse out like a fool.

She squeezes her eyes shut, as if trying to block some horrible and mortifying memory out, and buries her face in her hands again, giving up on her explanation. Her cheeks are red, with embarrassment and probably exhaustion. Lassiter is exhausted, and he’d definitely feel embarrassed if he was her. His stomach churns with discomfort. As he lamely uses the yarn to blot at the dribble of coffee that’s transferred onto his rumpled tie, he notices that his shirt is stained. Dirt and gravel and just one smear of blood, right over his stomach, where Shawn’s hand fumbled as Lassiter and Henry helped him get upright and against the car's vaguely cushioned backseat while they waited for the paramedics. 

He’s not stupid, or blind, no matter what the rest of the world likes to presume sometimes. He knows that whatever juvenile attachment O’Hara has to the Great And Irritating Thorn In His Side goes beyond the platonic and has elbowed itself into something greater than the immature and saccharine attraction that was regularly horrifying and – only sometimes – mildly amusing. Spencer is an idiot; O’Hara is not. 

Doesn’t make any of today feel different, though. 

He feels his shoulders sag. He feels the adrenaline drain out of him. He feels a surge of strange, complicated protectiveness trip over its metaphorical feet and land face-first in the back part of his throat, angry somehow, on her behalf – it’s difficult to explain precisely why – and then, through some cosmic magic that Shawn would probably claim he can commune with and Carlton absolutely does not believe in, his mouth opens of its own accord and her name comes out a second time, with more gentleness than he knew himself genuinely capable of:

“Juliet,” he says. 

Still awkward, and stilted, but maybe three percent less of a disaster. He watches his partner’s – his friend’s – mouth snap shut in surprise. He watches her sniff, and look at him a little desperately, a little lost, like even she’s not sure what to do with whatever horrible and unavoidable human indignity just accosted them. 

Lassiter swallows painfully and casts around for something else to say.

“You – you want a ride home?” he finally lands on.

Thank God: she nods. Exhaling loudly, he holds his arm out and the door open while Juliet scrambles to her feet in those confounding heels and accepts her bulky purse and his poorly-delivered grace with simple, slowly-settling determination. Or maybe it’s just plain relief.

He can work with that, he thinks, before absently raising one of the coffee cups to his mouth and immediately choking on the awful bitter sludge that is her black, one Stevia order.

“Oh, Carlton, this is undrinkable,” he hears her croak beside him, in between his own disgusted spluttering. He wonders miserably if Karen’s already worked her way through the interrogation he was so looking forward to conducting. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack twenty years premature …”

One of these days, he thinks again, wondering how many Tylenols it’ll take to kick the day’s headache. 

Spencer, chained to that desk armpit.

Forty-eight whole hours.

It’s a blissful fantasy that wouldn’t be possible if the man wasn’t going to be perfectly, one hundred percent alright, but that’s neither here nor there, just now; he said he would get his partner home.

The rest, he'll just have to figure out later.

[officeofcommanderfox]

Hello there! 🤩

I am sooo happy for this event, thank you so much for it! 😍

I would like to request something a bit whumpy/angsty with the prompts 36 and 48 🥺

Thank yoouuu 🥰🦊

Thank you so much for sending in your prompt! Here's the next chapter!!

The Commander and the Civvie, Chpt. 4

Fic Main | Previous Chapter

Pairing: Commander Fox x female reader

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Mentions of violence and attempted murder, hospital situation, injuries, coma

Prompt 36. “You know you can always talk to me.”

Prompt 48. “I don’t want you to die.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You never meant for any of this to happen. 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Why? Why did your life have to be the one that was so messed up? Why was it you had to suffer the consequences? And now it wasn't even you, but the Commander. Maybe if you had warned him sooner. Maybe if you had opened up when he asked… 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

As though being in the ICU wasn’t bad enough, the chair provided in the GAR medical facility was not conducive for having visitors. It was probably the most uncomfortable seat you've ever sat in. However no matter what anyone said, you refused to leave the Commander's side. After all, he was there because of you, he took the shot that was meant for you.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t look away from his fragile state. He looked so different from the Marshall Commander you’d come to know. Seeing him lying there, was a lot to handle, your worries, your guilt, your fear he’d never wake up, it all kept piling on top of you.

“It's not your fault.” Thorn offered, doing his best to console you, even if it didn't do much.

“How can you say that? He's in a coma because of me.” 

Thorn shifted in front of you keeping his eyes locked with yours as he kneeled, his hands engulfing yours while they rested on your lap, “Mesh'la, how is Fox defending you from some psycho with a blaster your fault?” 

“He wouldn't have gotten injured, much less been there if he just let me grab a cab by myself. If he just left like he usually did instead of trying to be chivalrous…” 

“Then you'd be lying there instead of Fox, or worse, and you know if you ended up here, Fox would’ve been very upset. Not only would we have lost the most attractive girl in his office, but he would have to do all the paperwork himself.” He smirked, hoping to get you to crack even the tiniest smile, but instead there was a single tear that welled up. He gently cupped your cheek wiping away the drop, 

“Mesh’la, listen this is what we were made for, to defend and protect the citizens of the Republic. That includes you.”

“Doesn't make it any easier.” 

Thorn nodded he knew things weren't as simple as he wished it to be. Maker, he'd love it if it was a simple mugging, and maybe they should've told you more about what was really going on, yet somehow neither Fox nor he were ready or able to tell you. 

“Fox, I don't get it. What could she have done to make herself a target?” 

“That's the question, isn't it? Are you sure the target is Starlight?” 

“Without a doubt, I double checked. One of the CUP officers was even able to get a puck recruiting mercenaries for the hit. Here.” Thorn pulled out the puck from his utility belt and pressed the button. There was no mistake, it was your face floating in the holo display. 

Fox rubbed his forehead, “Alright. Let me talk with her first. Let me see if she has an idea as to why the Black Sun would want her dead.” 

“They said dead or alive.” 

“Is that really important, Thorn?” 

“Sorry.” 

Fox shook his head, “No. It's mine. I… I just can't imagine what she did or who she pissed off. I mean she certainly has a mouth on her, so it's possible she talked back to someone she shouldn't have. Ugh.” Fox rubbed his face. He took one of the new cookies you had brought in and thoughtfully chewed on it. “Okay, leave the puck with me. I'll talk to her. She's my secretary, so I’ll handle it. And in the meantime, do a background check on her. I want a thorough check, leave no stone unturned.” 

Thorn nodded leaving Fox's office. It was still an hour before you were supposed to come in. This is not what he needed to deal with especially after the attempted kidnapping of the Chancellor. 

“Step back!” 

You jerked back to the present and watched in shock as the medics pushed you aside, reacting to Fox's heart which had started to beat erratically. Thorn held you back, his hands holding your arms, as you watched in horror while they shocked him back to a normal sinus rhythm. 

Once Fox was stable and your own heart felt like it started up again, you finally found your voice, “What's happening, Patch?” You asked the Coruscant Guard medic. 

“When the Commander jumped in front of you to protect you, taking the shot, the bolt

missed his heart by a millimetre. Which is about this much." He held up his thumb and forefinger showing a minimal space in between. “Because of how close the shot was, the electrical current jarred his heart out of rhythm. His body is doing its best to reset itself. I know it looks scary but he’ll be okay, that’s why we're here. Ready to jump in and reset his heart. Alright, love? I promise everything will be fine.” 

Thorn gently rubbed your arms, as you nodded. “See, he'll be fine, mesh'la. He'll be fine.”

You turned in Thorn's arms hugging him, needing warmth and comfort.

“Hey, Starlight, can we talk for a second.” 

Even though your working relationship had gotten better over the past month, you weren’t exactly buddy-buddy with the Commander, at least not yet.

“Commander?” You stood at the entrance of his office, watching as he motioned for you to take a seat. “Am I getting fired?” You smirked. 

Fox shook his head, a slight chuckle escaping from his helmet. “No, Starlight. You're not getting fired. I just wanted to check in to see how you're doing and how you're finding the job. See if there's anything you want to discuss?” 

“Oh. Oh well let's see. Everything is going well. My main concern is still the filing system. It's getting better but if I could stay late or even come in on a weekend to organize and arrange it chronologically and order of severity that would help.”

He cleared his throat, “I'm sure we can arrange something. Um… and aside from work, your personal life… is good?” 

That question shocked you, “Since when do you ask about my personal life?” 

“Well, you've been here a few weeks, I think it's about time I learned a little more about you. Anything I should know?” 

Your brows furrowed, “I feel like you're trying to ask me something specific.” 

He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, he lifted his helmet and set it aside looking into your eyes. 

You felt your breath catch in your chest, you knew Fox would be good looking, after all you've seen other Clone troopers but… there was something so much more attractive about Fox. Maybe it was the gray streak in his hair, or maybe it was the way his eyes bore into yours with wisdom and determination. The sharp chiselled jawline that could cut glass didn't pass your notice either. You swallowed as you looked at each other. 

“Starlight, you know you can always talk to me.” 

“I'm sorry Commander, I’m not sure what you want me to say..” 

Fox paused, breaking eye contact and blinking a few times. How was he going to tell her, a civilian who clearly had no idea the danger she was in, that a hit had been taken out on her. “No. Um … you know what, let's talk more later.” 

You tilted your head as you looked at him, you wanted to drag out this conversation longer, just so you could keep looking at his handsome face, “You sure?” 

“Yeah. Let's just get going with the day and catch up at the end.” 

Your hand rested on the armchair, as you simply nodded.

“I should've told you the truth.” You whispered, now that Thorn had left your side to handle things at the office, “I should've told you my life was a mess.” 

You held his hand, the guilt from not opening up to Fox when you had the chance weighed heavily on your heart and mind. And now you wondered if you'd ever get the chance. 

“Please. Please don't die” you whispered, “I don't want you to die.” You wiped a tear, wondering if what you felt for him right now was pure guilt or was it something more. “I'll explain everything if you wake up. So please. Wake up.” 

You stood, removing your hand from his, but instantly missed his warmth. You gently ran your hands over your arms, comforting yourself a little, as you headed towards the window by his bed looking out over Coruscant. Taking in a deep breath, wondering when this weight of guilt would leave you. 

“Starlight…” 

Your breath caught in your throat as you slowly turned to see Fox awake and smirking.

Send Commander Fox a prompt to continue the story!

Taglist 1:  @boomtowngirl @becks-things @catsnkooks @starlightrows @tailorvizsla @bitchin-beskar @acourtofsnakes @grogusmum @buzzybeebee @deannie13 @ladykatakuri @noodlesfics @the-good-shittt @everythingyouwanted @jewfro24 @vaderthepotater @pinkiemme @laichka @myeternalsin @kazthedestroyer @writeforfandoms @trekkingaroundasgard @beskarmermaid @flightlessangelwings @heyitsaloy @pickleprickle @obiwanquinzel @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @cloneloverrrrr @deewithani @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @atlas-likes-writing @mysticalgalaxysalad @tazmbc1

[kuramirocket]

So, I had a Mario dream, specifically about Super Mario Sunshine and I'm just like fic idea maybe???

The dream was super short and pretty random, but this is what happened in it:

It starts off, with Mario being on trial for the crime of covering Isle Delfino in goop. With how unfair the trial is going Peach demands that Mario be released. However, her angry demands goes unheard as the trial comes to a verdict with the judge declaring Mario will remain in jail for 1,000 years for 'his' crime. Mario, Peach and Toadsworth are shocked, Mario the most as realization and horror about this whole situation hits him full force. So much so that Peach has to steady him with both hands on his shoulder.

Outside the courthouse and jail, Peach and Toadsworth are walking away, towards the plane that brought them to the island. Peach is determined to set things right, but is unsure of how to go about it. She had thought about informing Princess Daisy about the situation and joining forces to attack Isle Delfino and essentially, breaking Mario out of jail. However, she also does not want to cause a political nightmare or make enemies out of Isle Delfino. (Realistically idk how this would work because Delfino is a very small island with seemingly no army. Maybe in my dream this was different. Idk. Lol)

Luigi (who apparently is in this dream and wearing his Mario Tennis Aces outfit for some reason and idk why he wasn't in the trial lol) appears and tells Princess Peach they have to do something. How can she and Toadsworth just leave and abandon Mario to his fate. Without a word, Peach grabs Luigi by the wrist, intending to drag Luigi with them. However, steeling himself, Luigi forcefully breaks free from her hold. Luigi softly, knowing there is no point in yelling, his voice almost devoid of emotion, yet with twinges of anger and icuness tells Peach to leave, for her to just go. Her back turned to him, Peach says nothing as she continues to walk away. Luigi looks away to the side, wishing his big brother was there with him and regretting his reaction towards the princess. His brother could always be friends with anyone and always seemed to know what to do no matter the circumstances.

Nearing the plane, Peach is in inner turmoil having decided to leave Mario back there, her expression never once having betrayed her emotions all the while. It isn't until she feels the tears in her eyes, her eyes growing more wet with the second, her breaths coming in shallow intakes, shoulders now trembling, that Peach realizes she is crying.

Seeing this, Toadsworth comforts Peach in a silent hug.

Meanwhile, in the shadows Bowser Jr. has witnessed all of this. His sullying of the island bore fruit an unexpected turn of events. He never expected the Princess herself would abandon Mario. He knows, she is not his mother, yet he still went through with his plan to get Mario blamed for his deed. Bowser Jr. wonders how he and his father could use this to their advantage: the seemingly sudden damage to Mario and Peach’s relationship. Bowser Jr. decides to tell his father about the turn of events.

And then I woke up. Idk what this dream was. But again I'm just like fic potential maybe?

I haven't actually even played Sunshine and just know the bare bones of the plot since I try to avoid spoilers.

But I mean, the Mushroom Kingdom at war with an actual powerful military foce Isle Delfino sounds interesting, imo. Lol

You guys have any thoughts about this? :D

[lookatmysillies]

AREPH Main Facility - Eddy POV

Tallis was brought to the facility shortly after Round 7.

While his companion, the guard, Hayate, was dragged unconscious to the lower high-security floors that Eddy had yet to attain access to, Tallis was immediately transferred to the ICU. Usually, this space was reserved for injured workers, but Tallis was an exception. He was placed in the same bed that Eddy had been vacated from after a long rest and recovery following its near-death encounter with the target Solei. Or... whatever they were now. Eddy wasn't certain. It was still set on the idea that it could save them and bring them home after such a long absence.

While Eddy was slowly integrated back into the field, they lingered in Tallis's room during the long days. At first, they merely observed him; a real Alien Stage contestant, up close! It was a marvel. He was marked for death by his loss against the contestant Daiki with her edgy wit and charm, but AREPH must've had bigger plans.

Maybe they brought Eddy a friend after all this time. They hadn't had a friend for a very long time. Not since... not since him.

Eddy tried not to think too much about Sebastian most days. Some days they allowed themselves to look at his baby pictures and smile and tear up.

Tallis was a lot - well, bigger than Sebastian was, but he worked well as a friend all the same. Eddy clumsily re-braided his hair whenever his braids loosened in his unresponsive state. It checked Tallis's IVs and the bandages on his midsection, one for the first bullet (it definitely got him good, but only pierced the fatty tissue of his side) and another for the second, which had pierced his abdomen. The aliens who tended to Tallis's health joked that Eddy might as well be their boss, seeing as it was there even more than they were.

It read case files to Tallis to stimulate his mind, ate meals in his presence and told him that he would love the pudding from the caf once he woke up, studied his calloused fingers (how did they get so rough?) and gently wiped his face and neck with a wet cloth every now and then to keep him clean. When one day, Tallis was transported to the lower levels where Eddy couldn't go, it was sad to see its new best friend go. Waiting for him to wake up felt like it was taking forever.

When he re-emerged a few weeks later, he was still asleep - kept in a medically induced coma, the doctors told Eddy, for his health. They told him he should wake soon and put him in one of their medical observation rooms. Eddy couldn't braid Tallis's hair anymore, as it had been buzzed sometime when he was gone, but they could resume their usual routine.

Until Tallis did finally wake a few nights after Eddy monitored Round 16 to watch for Aurien and Solei.

And Tallis was not happy.

They got past the initial awkwardness after Tallis threw things at them the night he woke up and spit in their face. Tallis must've realized relatively quickly that he was surrounded by aliens and his best bet was to let the only other human stick around.

He rejected Eddy's friendly gestures for a solid week. He pushed away the warm washcloths and refused to eat much of the food Eddy offered him despite his gaunt, sunken appearance. The only times he addressed Eddy directly (or anyone, really) was to ask questions.

Where am I? The AREPH facility. Where's the facility? I'm so sorry, I can't tell you that! How am I alive? The guard saved you - I'm glad he did, too! Where is he, then? Undergoing treatment in the lower levels, then he'll probably be questioned. Are you going to question me? Soon, yes, we think you might have information pertinent to our investigations.

Tallis's jaw ticked at those words, and Eddy knew he knew what that meant.

Tallis had ties to high-profile figures.

(And that was the only reason he still lived, not because his life had any worth to anyone, but because he had information on the people who really mattered in the eyes of others.)

Which brought them to their first compromise.

Eddy wasn't technically allowed to show Tallis any information regarding Season 39 of Alien Stage. He was supposed to be in the dark.

But it broke Eddy's heart to reject him any information on his friends, Tov and Himei. He cared about them. He had a human connection with them, like Eddy had a human connection with Sebastian once upon a time.

"I'll be your friend if you tell me if they're okay," Tallis said ever so quietly one night from his bed, eyes wide and teary. "Just tell me if they're alive. Tell me how many of my friends are still alive."

And Eddy broke.

"Tov," Eddy whispered in his ear so no sound systems would pick up on it. "Himei, and all the others who won their rounds before you, all but Vera. Khoi." Tallis's eyes fluttered shut. "Lark, Akane, Jae, Lang, and Onyx."

Tallis's throat caught on a harsh swallow. "No Castor?"

Eddy hesitated, wishing not to have to be the one to confirm it.

"No Castor," it murmured, shrinking away when Tallis's face briefly crumpled, a single tear released from his eye. Then he wiped his face with his blanket like a small child might and forced a stoic look upon his face, though his lips still trembled.

"Tell me," Tallis said shakily, "who wins the next row. If you can."

Eddy couldn't turn him down again after that.

"I can."

AREPH had different plans.

Eddy didn't have to tell him one thing, because for Rounds 17 and 21, Tallis was placed on a chair in the observation room with wires and electrodes attached to his head. Eddy and a few others had already taken a few cracks each at getting Tallis to talk about his classmates and he had thus refused.

"Is this necessary?" Eddy whispered to the small alien named Yakun, chewing on the inside of their cheek behind their facemask. Tallis's face was nearly green with sick as the countdown to Tov's round whittled down, his friend about to meet the fate she was destined for either way.

Eddy hoped she won, for Tallis's sake and their own preferences. She was Eddy's favorite contestant. She was radiant.

"It is," Yakun told it. "If he won't tell us about his connections, we'll learn ourselves."

Tallis had already been irritable and jittery since he woke up from his coma. Now, he was downright mercurial as the round progressed live on a projector before him. He shook violently in his seat from the beginning till the end. When Lark hit the floor, he covered his eyes, his mouth moving in what could be some silent prayer. He only removed his hands when the announcer bellowed Tov's name.

Round 21 was worse. Like Round 17, Tallis's friend took the early lead and held it throughout, but also like Round 17, there was a wrench thrown into it. Instead of Lark falling to the ground, it was Himei, forced down by Noora. When Noora started raining punches down on Himei, Tallis, who had already been anxious the whole performance mouthing "something is wrong" promptly burst into silent tears, biting down on his fingers as Himei was hurt. The gunshot piercing Noora's neck almost seemed like a relief to him, making his teeth unclench from his flesh, dark bite marks left in their wake.

Eddy hated it.

That night, Tallis was utterly defeated, pale and shivering. He let Eddy clean his face, or maybe more accurately, he had no energy to resist it. He let them steal an extra blanket from an unoccupied room and put it on Tallis's bed.

Eddy watched over him that night, eyes fixated on his sleeping form, pierced by the familiar ache that came with connection.

Sebastian's pictures felt like they were burning against Eddy's leg where they rested in its pocket.

Not much more than a week later, Himei's long black curls were falling to the floor with each rhythmic snip of the scissors.

Daiki was dead. Himei had outlasted her. She won the stupid fucking game she was playing against herself.

But with every photoshoot and interview that came afterwards deeming Himei a member of the Elite Eight, declaring her better than Daiki, pitting her against Tov whose points count loomed ahead of her, Himei knew the truth.

Every time she glimpsed herself in the mirror and saw her bruised, sore face, she knew the truth.

Every time she laid eyes on Cirrus, whether in a magazine, on a billboard, or at mealtimes, she knew.

She didn't win.

She'd already lost, regardless of the outcome.

The morning of Round 24, she woke with a heavy heart.

She needed to see Tov.

Tagging time! Tov belongs to @ivanttakethis; Daiki belongs to @daiki1k; Sebastian belongs to @sotogalmo; Lark and Noora belong to @kamersona; Cirrus belongs to @cirrusoftheclouds. Everyone else is pretty much mentioned in passing, so I won't tag those people and spam their notifs, lol.

[theheartofappalachia]

Here I am, sitting in a parking lot writing about the past few days. My mamaw just got out of surgery and is still in ICU and thank the gods for the hospital having power. I came up here to get gas, signal and charge my phone and hopped on tumblr and reddit for a few just trying to get my mind off things....

And what do I see? Politics about this disaster and people only caring about Asheville fucking everywhere. Listen, Asheville wasn't the only place hit in this storm and North Carolina wasn't the only state and for those of us in Virginia, Tennessee and southern West Virginia it's starting to get real goddamn irritating seeing yall only talk about North Carolina and even then you're only talking about it because Asheville is an urban tourist center therefore it's getting media coverage.

Fuck those poor bastards that live up the hollers and in the hills away from town right? 37 trees. I've cut 37 trees off of houses in the past 4 days(one of them being my own) and while the power flickered on for a second today, it's still out. People's food is ruined, we're shitting in holes in the ground because indoor plumbing doesn't work without power(and hauling buckets of water to flush isn't feasible for some people). You think we can afford to just replace a fridge or freezer full of food? It's not that simple, not in this economy.

Insurance? Yeah we live in old houses that Insurance won't cover to begin with unless we do thousands of dollars worth of upgrades and then many who have insurance are being denied. Yall say FEMA covers it? What a joke. FEMA is great for what it can do but it doesn't replace houses, nor does it give out lots of money.

Nobody cares about your fucking politics. I haven't seen one politician in the mud with us. Nobody cares about voting right now. This isn't the time regardless of what you idiots say. Read the fucking room. We deserve this because of how we vote? Fuck you, again. Stop being high and mighty and come help instead of sitting back with your vape in your hand going "Kamala will fix this" or "Trump will send all the aid" or "Biden is going to rescue everyone". Newsflash, none of them give a shit.

People are legitimately downvoting those of us who live in these areas on r/Appalachia because we're saying stop bringing politics into it or please stop saying you're upset that your vacation spot is gone. Ya'll tag shit Appalachia left and right now yet you didn't give a fuck about us before unless it was to say how pretty our leaves are as you go camping for a weekend and leave your trash laying around....and you'll forget about us the next time a big news story hits.

I've gotta get away from social media for a while. What I thought would take my mind off the roughest time of my life did nothing but make me hate people.

[1nindroid]

Well, here she finally is! I recently commisioned Shiro to draw my first ever Ninjago oc. This piece came out just like how I had her envisioned in my head! More about Eon's story below :]

Project E.O.N. wasn't planned. It was a project thrust upon the aspiring robotic engineer at a dire time. Torako, who had just gotten out of the hospital from a near-fatal car crash, was given an impossible mission.

She needed to steal a bunch of tech.

In the ICU, she was barely lucid when she got the news. Someone had paid her $100,000 medical bill over night. The nurses didn't even get the proper name of this individual. This "kind" stranger simply went by "S" when signing off the paperwork. Later that night, the mysterious person approached Torako all alone with an offer she couldn't refuse.

It wasn't like she could if she wanted to. With the snap of their fingers, she could be back in debt and probably in jail for fraud. This person knew who she was and had planned this for a long time.

The plan was this: She'd have an entire warehouse to do her work and live in. All of her basic needs would be met, as long as she did what she was told. Whenever she'd acquire whatever was requested, autonomous drones would haul it from designated secure areas. Any attempts to track or uncover "S" would ruin their deal.

A few months later, after intensive physical therapy, Torako lost her job as a factory manager at Borg Tower. It was indevitable after the whole Overlord situation was dealt with. This was an unbelievable loss. Having been one of the few human employees, it was one of the best times of her life. To be surrounded by state-of-the art technology all day and see the wonder on the tourists faces was unlike anything else.

Now she was stealing from the very company she admired.

Behind the wheel of a large unbranded truck, she carried some seriously precious cargo. At least fifty mangled offline Nindroids tumbled loosely in the back. She winced whenever she heard one of them crunch against the other. After the defeat of the Overlord, Cyrus Borg was left with a very uncomfortable problem. He had no clue what to do with all the evil Nindroids. After everything he learned so much about humanity through Pixal and Zane, he couldn't bring it upon himself to have the evil Nindroids destroyed or recycled.

All of them were going to be stored in a warehouse indefinitely. So, can it really be considered stealing if you are taking something that is just going to be forgotten? Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead as she turned the truck into the warehouse. One by one, she hauled out the Nindroids and stacked them inside before the rain came in.

Every one of them was in various stages of dissaray. How did they get this messed up? Some were missing limbs, torsos, and even heads! She ran her fingers through her short hair and grumbled in frustration. How the hell is she supposed to work with this? Back at Borg Tower, the factory did all the assembling. All she had to guide her was a digital document of their blueprints and some guides for manual assembly.

A year and about fifty Nindroids later, she somehow managed to make something. This lanky monster made up of all kinds of parts laid flat on the operating table. Torako removed her oil stained gloves and took a sip of water.

It was done.

She contacted "S" on her hacked Borgwatch and relayed the message that project E.O.N. was a success. Torako finally had someone that could sneak into all those high-security places. Someone who was built for stealth, speed, and awareness of their surroundings.

Turning on the Nindroid abomination was difficult. It's limbs spasmed, and it's eyes flickered on and off. Using two defibrilators on high settings, Torako managed to keep the Nindroid awake just long enough to boot up.

"What..? Where am I? Who am I?" It's voice was heavily distorted yet oddly feminine.

"You are in a secure warehouse, and your designated name is… Eon."

Eon palmed the control collar on her neck and felt her danger senses awaken. She had a state-of-the art explosive rigged to her neck.

"It's just a precaution. I couldn't take that off if I wanted to. My, our boss ordered it. Don't worry, I have one too. They put it on me while I was out cold in the hospital." She pointed to her own collar, obscured by her sweater.

"What is my mission?" Eon asked as she was getting used to her odd legs.

Torako handed her a digital tablet that had a long list of tech prototypes. "Get these and don't get caught."

[hsdiaries]

chapter two

4.1K words.

Second chapter of eight count.

mentions alcoholism, cancer, and drug abuse.

"Grabbed you a coffee, how's Mrs. Edison?" I heard Josephine say, my eyes landing on the large white cup she was handing me. After two code blues and multiple upset patients, I needed it today. I grabbed it, taking a quick sip, licking my lips as I went over Mrs. Edison's chart.

"It's tough, doctor upped the dosage on everything, the family isn't processing that she isn't going to get better," I sighed, finishing up my notes so I could submit everything to the doctor.

Josephine sat down next to me, grabbing her own charts and getting to work, "I lost Mr. Frankfurt this morning. Daughter yelled at me until she cried. You would think I was the doctor."

That was the thing about the ICU, most times we dealt with the patients directly more than the doctors did. We built the relationships, we created the small bits of banter with them to keep them entertained.

"It's just one of those days, can't seem to catch a break I swear," I smiled, rolling my shoulders back, stretching out my neck. Just five more hours and I was off for the next three days. It wasn't even the time to relax that excited me, it was wondering if I would bump into Harry again. If he would come over to have me check his wound.

I had theories on what happened, especially with living next to him and who by the yells, I assumed was his dad. It often sounded violent, yet every time I reported it like it was my job to do, all that came from it was a drunken man, just yelling at his son. To me that didn't feel like justification enough for the police to walk away, but they did, every time.

I didn't want to assume his dad hit him, but if he didn't, then I could only assume someone did. I could only assume someone, somewhere was hurting him. I took another sip of my coffee, pondering on his eyes; the everclear shade of green that seemed perfectly crafted for the softness of his smile. They way he nervously twisted and tugged at his hair. All of it had taken over my mind and it was getting me through this day.

"Did I tell you I finally met my neighbor last night?" I said to Josephine, neither one of us looked up from our notes.

"The guy you think is hitting his kid?"

"No, the kid. Definitely not a kid. Definitely a man. Definitely a beautiful grown man," I chuckled as Josephine joined me and laughed.

"So how did that happen?"

"He was catching the elevator as I was getting in, he held it open for me. His face was wrecked, a split eyebrow. He said he fell at work, stuff fell on him or something like that," I said, closing my chart and grabbing another.

"Right, don't they all. Makes me upset if someone is hurting him," Josephine said, switching charts as well.

"Yeah, but, he came over and I cleaned him up, used a couple butterflies on h—..."

"...—you what? E! He could have been dangerous? What if he was doing the hurting?" She scolded me in a low whisper yell, my eyes rolling.

"Jo, if I thought he was dangerous I wouldn't have done that. I swear, he was so nervous, tugging at his hair. I even...I left some mac and cheese at his door afterward," I said quickly looking away.

"Emilia, baby, you just gotta be careful," she said, reaching for my arm and squeezing it tightly.

"I know, I know I will. It's not like going to go knocking on his door randomly. I don't know what's going on in there, I would never be that stupid. It was just a quick knock and run - but trust me...you wouldn't have a single bit of fear if you saw him."

She narrowed her eyes, before nodding, "Okay, just don't be too trusting, okay? Make sure before you jump into anything stupid."

"It's not like I'm going to sleep with him, Jo," I rolled my eyes as a room in our unit called for a nurse, "You got coffee, so I'll get this."

I moved down the hospital halls, waving at the familiar faces of families I knew, each hoping their relatives got moved from this floor to another. I saw Tracy's room was the room calling and even though we weren't supposed to have favorites, Tracy and her family were mine. Tracy was a five year old that had spent most of her fifth year of life in and out of this ICU unit and the cancer ward. There wasn't much happiness to her story, yet, Tracy and the Warrens were the happiest people I had ever seen.

"Well hello Warrens," I smiled, quickly pulling up my mask and slipping on some gloves, "Everything okay?"

"Hi, E! I just wanted to say hi. I heard you but you hadn't said hi!" Little Tracy pouted, a chuckle coming from me.

"I'm sorry, Trac. Doctor gave me a ton of homework I have to finish up, cause I'm going to be gone for the next couple of days," I said, sitting on the bed as I checked her vitals.

"Gone! Already? You were just gone!" She exclaimed, remembering my previous days off. I laughed, her mom joining me.

"I know, but, if I don't sleep, my eyes will get stuck like this," I said, crossing my eyes, "And then I won't be able to find my way to your room!"

"Oh no, we can't have that. And boys won't like you either." Tracy said, causing me to laugh even harder.

"And I haven't told you my secret," I said leaning in, I felt her mother turn away, knowing Tracy loved our secrets, "I met a boy."

"A cute boy?" She whispered and I nodded.

"Yup. With green eyes and dimples like yours, but he's just my friend right now," I said poking her nose.

"Play soccer with him, boys like soccer," she nodded eagerly and I chuckled a bit.

"I'll make sure to ask him to play with me. Alright sweetie, I have to go back to the desk. But you just ring and I'll come or I'll send Jo, okay?" I said, running my fingers gently through her hair.

"Okay, E. Bring chocolate milk next time!" She smiled and I nodded standing up.

"I'll sneak you one from the cafe! I promise." I winked at her mom before saying my byes and making my way out of the room.

—

That unfortunately was the highlight of my shift. We lost five more patients that day. I called days like today "gray days". So much death, but they couldn't be completely dark, because there were bits of light, like Tracy and the patients that moved out of the ICU daily.

I wrapped up my day, grabbing my bag and jacket, never more eager than I was right now to leave and order a large pizza, grab a blanket and a whole bottle of wine all for myself. It wasn't often I got to work half shifts, so I would fully be taking advantage of tonight. I exited the hospital, my Uber driver waiting for me as soon as I made it out. I normally would take the bus, but on a day like today, I wanted nothing to do with public transport.

My thumb scrolled through my phone as we drove through the city, placing an order for my pizza and some groceries for the next couple days. I didn't tend to keep much in my home since I was hardly there, but on my days off, I tried to cook as much at home as I could.

Thanking the Uber driver, I got out of the car and quickly made my way inside the building, walking up to Richard's desk, "Hi buddy."

"Miss Park, you're home early today," he smiled, reaching over and hugging me.

"Half shift, you know I only get them like once a month. So I ordered a pizza and groceries, can you please send them up so I don't have to come down, and in return I'll let you have two slices and Twix I got just for you," I smiled, wiggling my eyebrows and he laughed.

"Always trying to butter me up child," he shook his head.

"Well....is it working?" I said tilting my head forward and he rolled her eyes.

"Get, before I change my mind!" He pointed at the elevator, making me laugh. I nodded, heading towards the elevator quickly stopping and turning around.

"Wait...Rich, you know everyone here. What can you tell me about the guy next door to me, Harry something," I said, scrunching my nose, walking back over.

"Styles? Why?" He said, leaning on his desk.

"Well, I patched him up last night. Split brow, lots of bleeding. I always hear yelling from his place so I—..."

"...—I need you to stay away from there, Miss Park. Not from Harry, he's a good kid, just had bad luck. I just don't need you looking for him, don't need you knocking on that apartment door, you hear?" He said sternly, his eyes fixed on me in a way that scared me.

"I won't, I just...I hear the things that go on. And he seems so...gentle. I just wondered." I said, crossing my arms across my body and hugging myself.

"He is, in his own way. Just don't look for him. Let him look for you if he chooses."

"Got it. Thank you," I smiled before turning and finally making my way back to my apartment.

Once inside, I quickly ran into the bathroom, turning on the water to warm up for a quick shower. I pulled my hair up into a high bun before undressing and making my way in, letting the scorching hot water wash over me. I loved the feel on my skin, the slight burning sensation making me feel alive. There was no better feeling than washing of the smell of the hospital, the skin crawling feeling of death that sometimes filled my days.

I got out of the shower, slipping on a pair of boxer briefs and an oversized Nirvana shirt, big slouchy socks on my feet. I checked my phone, seeing my food and groceries would be arriving shortly and began quickly cleaning out the fridge of any old food to make room for the new. I sprayed my counters and cleaned them down, lighting my favorite candle on the kitchen counter and dimming the lights; it felt like a romantic evening for one.

How thrilling.

A knock came from my door, my feet sliding on the kitchen tile before it hit the soft carpet, making my way to the door. I opened it, expecting to find either just my groceries or pizza waiting for me, but instead I got Harry, a napkin pressed against his eyebrow. Blood could be seen absorbing into the napkin, a look of stress on Harry's eyes.

"It won't stop bleeding," he shrugged and I reached over, removing his hand gently.

"Oh, yeah, that's going to need stitches. Probably an ER, I think most urgent cares are closed now," I said, moving his hand back to continue applying pressure.

"I can't - I don't have insurance," he said, the second half of his statement in a whisper. I took him in, remembering Rich's words.

"...he's a good kid, he's just had back luck."

I inhaled through my nose, breathing out slowly before looking over my shoulder into my apartment. Biting my lip, I took a step back, nodding my head, welcoming him in.

"Bathroom again?" He said, his free hand tugging at his hair.

"Ugh, no, the couch is fine. I'm going to have you lay your head on my lap, it's the only way I know how to do it. I'll find a light. Just sit down, I'll be back, um, watch the blood please. That's actually a hard stain to get out." I smiled softly before walking away to my hall closet. I opened it up looking for my dad's old medicine bag, pulling it out and searching for the suture kit he always kept in here, just in case.

I grabbed everything I needed, going into my room and grabbing my desk lamp for the extra brightness that was needed in the living room. Moving into the living room, I looked around the room figuring out how to best do this.

"Um? I know you're bleeding and all, but help me move all that stuff off the side table so I can set up?" I said and he nodded, quickly moving to clear the table for me. I carefully unraveled a clean towel on the it, placing down the lamp and all my medical material. I bent down to plug in the light, moving into the kitchen to wash my hands.

I came back over, slipping on gloves, this whole time Harry's eyes felt glued on me. I moved to sit on the couch, realizing he once again had taken off his shoes and I couldn't help but smile a bit. I glanced over at him, patting my lap, "Lay your head here, don't worry, I don't bite."

He chuckled, lowering himself onto the couch, causing us to both laugh as his long body hung over the opposite arm rest, "Not exactly built for friendly giants," I said softly, causing him to blush.

"Most things aren't," he said softly as I began removing the butterfly bandages, cleaning up the area again. I reached for a small black bottle and big cotton swab, opening it and dipping it in. I rubbed the mixture along his cut, his eyebrows furrowing softly against the sting.

"Sorry, I should have warned you. Hurts now, but it'll numb you up real good in a few." I smiled softly, moving his hair carefully off his face, "So while that settles, tell me about your day, you work today?"

"Not today. Just ran errands. Paid some bills, you know, adulting as they say," he smiled, eyes avoiding mine.

"Mm, that's my day tomorrow. Well, I covered groceries today, just have to pay some bills. So what do you do? You obviously know I'm a nurse, so?"

He chuckled, chewing on his lower lip before glancing over at me, "I'm a barback at Birmingham's down the way."

"Oh, I go there sometimes with my best friend Jo from work. Just for beers, that bartender makes his drinks strong. I've never seen you though," I said, testing his feeling around the eyebrow.

"Not the right night, I guess," he said, showing no reaction to my touch.

"Guess so. Alright, I'm going to stitch you up, I just need you to stay still, okay?" I said and he nodded, as I turned my upper body, grabbing my dad's kit and opening it up. I prepared everything, licking my lips as I turned to him, setting his injury closed properly.

"I didn't know nurses were allowed to do this?" He said, possibly from nerves, possibly to keep the conversation going.

"Most aren't. I sure as hell am not allowed and I will deny ever laying a hand on you," I pointed my finger at him, giggling a bit, "But uh, my dad was a doctor in the Marines. Always had this kit handy, taught me to do this when I was fifteen, 'just in case' he would say," I carefully begin stitching his would, letting my dad's voice guide me in my head, "I only had to use it once, my momma cut up her leg real bad in our backyard while he was deployed, fixed her right up. I remember he praised me so much at how well I did. Now you're my first patient in a while."

He chuckled, "Well, I don't know if that makes me feel easy about this, but I'm also happy to be the guinea pig."

I smiled, biting my lip, eyes moving to his for a brief moment then back up to his brow, "When you heal without a nasty scar, you'll start recommending me to all the bar backs that fall at your job."

I knew I was teasing, because I didn't believe his story. He probably didn't deserve it, but his cute side smirk let me know he was willing to play along.

"I'll have a sign up sheet, start scheduling appointments. Probably going to have to bribe Richard."

"Just buy the man a pound of Twix bars and he'll let anything slide," I smirked and he laughed.

"So that's the secret to his heart, here I thought I knew him well enough."

"Hey, don't be stealing my tactics now, you have to come up with your own bribes," I moved quicker now, my fingers remembering the patterns my dad taught me to make sure the wound healed properly. I snipped the end of the thread, gently cleaning off any excess blood.

"All done, now these aren't the fancy hospital ones, so I'll have to remove them when the time comes, so just gotta keep stopping by so I can check up on them," I smiled, patting his chest softly, surprised by the firm muscle I felt. He sat up carefully, allowing me to get up and pick up the mess. I made my way over to the kitchen to properly wash and dispose of things as the door knocked, "Oh, that's probably my pizza or the groceries."

"Richard let them up here?" He said, raising his eyebrow slightly.

"Like I said, Twix. Magic," I shrugged and he laughed tugging on his hair.

"I'll get it," he smiled at me, moving to answer the door. He helped bring in the groceries and as I finished up the pizza arrived. I moved over to tip the delivery man, closing the door as he walked away.

"Wanna stay for dinner? I usually can manage a large one on my own, but that doesn't mean I should," I smiled, setting the pizza on the kitchen counter and opening it up. I quickly moved to the cupboards, not really giving him a chance to think, pulling out two plates and two wine glasses.

"There is two slices missing?" He questioned and I laughed.

"I made sure Rich was fed," I winked at him as I handed him a plate. He shook his head, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

"I'm going to have to start taking note. I see how you run a tight ship around here," he teased, grabbing a slice of pizza as I pulled the wine from the fridge. I removed the cork, serving us each a glass, handing it over to him.

I watched his eyes move to the glass of wine, then up at me, "I um - I don't drink."

I felt my eyes widen, my cheeks turning a deep red, "Oh my gosh. I should have asked. I'm so sorry,"

"No, no, it's fine really. I am not insulted in any way at all," he smiled, taking the glass from me and placing it on the counter, "I'll be fine with just water, thanks."

My shoulders relaxed, rolling back slightly as I inhaled sharply, "Ice cold water coming right up."

I quickly grabbed a new glass, serving him some water from the fridge and bringing it over to him. I transferred his wine into my glass knowing I fully planned on having more than one glass anyway.

Watching him eat, broke my heart slightly, watching as he seemed to savor every bite. Made me wonder how often he had something as simple as a slice of pizza.

"What's your favorite take out food?" I said, finally taking a bite of the cheesy greasy goodness that was pizza from Valentino's.

"Hmmm, I don't eat out much, but when I do, it's always Chinese. Noodles, I can't get enough of noodles, loaded in beef." He smiled so big, popping pepperoni in his mouth.

"I love mongolian beef, with extra green onions. If my breath don't stank after, I didn't eat enough," I said matter of factly causing him to full on cackle.

"I knew there was something interesting about your scent earlier," he narrowed his eyes and I threw my napkin at him.

"Oh shut up!"

We both laughed, sitting in silence as we finished our pizza, my eyes glancing up to him, "So, is it just you and your cat over there?" I hoped I didn't push him away with this question, hoped he didn't shut off.

He finished up his slice, reaching for another, licking his fingers after he set it down on his plate, "Well, if by cat you mean my pops, then, yeah, just me and my cat."

There was a distaste to his tone, a clear disappointment on his face as his mind seemed to ponder on his own personal situation.

"Hey, we all have a cat, okay? I have a mom, she's my cat. She's not around, but, she's my cat," I said, reaching over carefully, giving his arm a squeeze. It was the first time I noticed the anchor tattoo on his hand, a small cross near his thumb. My finger carefully traced over the anchor tattoo.

"But she's not around, that's the key phrase," he said softly, my eyes glancing up to his.

"He's not the one that...you know...." I swallowed, unable to finish my sentence.

He smiled a bit, his dimple sinking into his right cheek, "No. I promise, this cat is declawed. Just a shover, but this is just me. Clumsy. Promise."

I pressed my lips tight, trying to fight the fuzzy feeling his smile gave me, "Okay. I'll accept your promise."

"Where is your cat?" He asked softly, my eyes moving back down to his tattoo, tracing the anchor again.

"Mmm, last I heard, New Mexico, finding herself or some shit. Probably finding herself with drugs, but, finding herself," I shrugged.

We both sat in silence again, until he finally spoke, "My dad finds himself with alcohol. Daily - hourly, actually," he cleared his throat, his hand moving from my touch, lifting my face gently, "So I get it."

I bit my lip, moving from his touch, taking a long sip of wine, "Thank you, for sharing. I know that's never easy."

"Give a little take a little, or something like that is what my mum used to say," he said, tugging at his hair, twisting through the ends.

I giggled, sipping more wine, "This was nice. I'm so used to eating alone, this was nice."

"You'll have to let me bring something over next time, we'll, um - if, you know there is a—..."

"...—I would love it if you brought something over. We can make it our weekly activity when I'm off. It'll be your escape."

He blushed, looking down and drinking water. He just nodded, eyes only landing on me momentarily. Before moving over to the floor where my groceries were still in bags, "Let me help you put those away, before I have to leave."

"Umm...as long as you don't make fun of my process." I hid behind my glass.

"Process?" He sat back, face of slight judgment already. I got up, walking over and opening up my fridge so he could see all the organizational containers and beverage containers.

"Oh, I should have known. I should have known you were one of those. I'm guessing we are going to wash your fruit before we put it away too?" He said, tilting his head.

"You can go, you are making fun and I won't tolerate it!" I said dramatically as he chuckled, getting up and grabbing a grocery bag. He pulled out the boxes berries, walking over to the sink and beginning to rinse the fruit.

"See, I'm being supportive," he smirked and I rolled my eyes, grabbing another bag and starting to put things away. He was patient with me throughout the process, refilling my beverage containers, helping me organize the vegetables and fruits in appropriate containers. As we were finishing up, thumping began coming from next door, Harry freezing at the sound.

I looked over at the wall separating our apartments, licking my lips and looking over at Harry. His body was tense, breath slow. I moved over, gently placing my hand on his back, rubbing gently, "You can always sleep on my couch after you handle that. Just so you know."

"Thanks. I should go though," he said slowly turning to me, "But really, thank you, for fixing me up, for dinner. Thank you."

"Mhm, truly, anytime." I smiled.

[pastafossa]

The last day of 2023.

And holy shit has it been a chaotic ride, one which you all shared with me, or that's what it feels like!

The Major Moments:

Feb: Cato's cancer diagnosis and discovery of weird mutated cells that likely won't be explained until after he passes away. He's still with me, fortunately! No idea how much time he has left but I'm grateful for every second

April: a small leak in my dining room ceiling turned into a bigger leak which turned into a massive hole in the ceiling, at least it wasn't winter???

May: DD Born Again Photos give us all a goddamn heart attack

May: I FUCKING REACH MY OVERALL 1,000,000 WORD COUNT ON AO3. 🎊 🎉 🎊 Next stop is 1mill for TRT!

June: Went to my first con since Covid! Drove all the way down to Philly to see Charlie Cox, WHICH WAS FUCKING AMAZING, HE HELD THE RED THREAD FOR OUR PHOTO, MY FANFIC DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE, AND I TOLD HIM WHAT DD MEANS TO ME AND HE WAS SO NICE I COULD CRY

June: At that same con, I finally FINALLY got to meet my bff @wonderlandmind4 in person after many many many late nights of chatting, and we just CLICKED like we'd been friends for years, which I should have expected, but still! And then I got to meet a bunch of my readers, too! Best con experience EVER

July: enter Whoops Covid Finally Got Me After 3 Years But Charlie Was Worth It ™

July: Finally dusted off my draft of Pasta's First Dark Fic cause even if my brain was too fuzzy to write, I figured I could edit a bit. And I did! And was pretty happy with the results!

August: Shit Now There's A Long Covid Heart Issue And I Can't Be Seen Until Late November Thanks Covid ®

August: leak in the garage leads to me losing about 65% of all the beautiful, special woods pieces I'd gathered over the course of six years for carving. Within a week I am gifted a huge bin of wood from a kind soul at my local witchy shop

Sept: TRT's 6th anniversary!

Nov: I was slowly getting back into the swing of things, doing a bit of writing in between learning to manage whatever was going on with my heart (which we'll hopefully figure out in January when I get all the results of testing in Jan)

Early Dec, and the worst week of my life: mom got sick. Within one day she went from not feeling good to needing an ambulance. By the next day, she was in the ICU - flu induced double pneumonia that was interfering with her breathing and heart issues. And with one more day, she was put into an induced coma and ventilated, without any of us sure if she'd pull through. They told us she'd likely be under for two weeks, potentially longer even if she made it. The amount of messages and supportive comments I got from all of you, the talks I had with @wonderlandmind4 and @shouldbestudying41, just the general sense of having a community to help me means more than I can ever say as you all helped me through that terrible, horrible moment, even if it was just gently messaging me to remind me to try to eat.

Mid Dec: against ALL odds, Mom was off the ventilator in a week. By week 2, she was out of the ICU. By week 3? Off to the physical rehab center. She was there a grand total of 1 week before she was allowed to come home to finish her recovery. Early December was the worst moment of my life, and yet it was also bookended by the best Christmas of my life even if it was spent at the rehab center, because I got to have my mama back, and hug her and tell her I loved her and make jokes, and now she's home and we've been watching Christmas movies and eating grilled cheeses, and as far as I'm concerned, that's what the holiday is to me: not presents and snow and lights, but this moment, this time with her. 'In all the places you find love, it feels like Christmas.'

In just a few hours for me, it'll be 2024. I have no idea what to expect going forward, or even what to plan for, much less a resolution. I know I want to get back to TRT when mom's a bit better (she still needs a lot of help, understandably). I know there are wood carvings I want make; friends I want to visit; witchy events at my local shop I want to go to. But other than that... who knows? If I'm lucky, things will be calmer than this past year. But even if they aren't, at least I know I have dear friends, all of you, and my family, including Pasta Mama, to help me through it.

Goodbye, 2023. Hello, 2024.

[arrthurpendragon]

Okay - I can share most of what has been going on now.

So, my former stepmother was in the ICU for a few weeks due to stage 4 COPD and respiratory failure issues. We thought she was going to pass several times. It was even to the point that I went up there to say goodbye and sang to her. (The relationship with my former stepmother is VERY complicated, but I didn't want her to suffer) There were times that even the doctors had no idea what was going on - she was in medically induced comas, but wasn't waking up when she was supposed to and such. But miracle of all miracles, she seems to have pulled through for the time being.

So, I was trying to be strong and present for my sister (who is technically my half-sister - former stepmom's biological daughter)

Then I started doing some more work stuff. After only one year in the public school (starting my second) I have been asked to chair a solutions team and be on the leadership team for my school.

Money has been very very tight due to what happened with my stepmother. I literally bought stuff I needed for school with points from my credit card. I'm not even sure I'll be able to pay my mortgage and car payment yet this month - I'm gonna have to get very creative or ask for money. (As a teacher, my pay stopped in the end of June, but will pick up again in September - so the unexpected expenses have broken my budget)

So, as a coping / relaxing strategy, I've been playing Disney Dreamlight Valley and snuggling with my fur babies while listening to audiobooks.

TLDR: Life has been crazy. I'm making the most money I've ever made in my life, but I'm broke.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Ayooo (some) Healthcare Boys are back! :D

(@hermitdrabbles56 @squigglywindy)

The emergency department was busy.

Very busy.

It wasn't even the usual kind of busy, the hustle and bustle of residents falling behind on paperwork and orders, leading to a backup in the line for mild to moderately sick patients. It wasn't half the city's population using the ED as their primary care because they either didn't have the time, patience, money, or opportunity to get an actual primary care provider.

No, these patients were sick. They were actually having emergencies, and there were a lot of them.

Legend and Warriors were each caring for the sickest in the department. Both patients desperately needed ICU beds, and they knew they were in short supply. Warriors, keen on listening to the charge nurse and hospitalist's words about the status of beds and patient acuity, had already figured out that there was one remaining ICU bed in the entire hospital. A neighboring hospital also only had one bed available, and was willing to accept a patient.

That meant they had to decide who to fly and who to keep. That decision was already a difficult one, left to the emergency physician who was trying to parse it out, but the biggest dilemma wasn't even that.

It was the blasted hospitalist.

Warriors had mostly dealt with emergency personnel in the war. Most of his experience was in a field hospital, which had little beyond immediate, urgent care before shipping a patient to an actual hospital for continued treatment. It wasn't until the waning years of the war that he'd transferred off the front lines entirely.

In that time, he'd learned that he didn't like hospitalists. They were the physicians who took care of acutely ill and injured patients who were being hospitalized, the ones who would usually be on the floor. They also were the buffer between the ER and the rest of the floors - even an ICU patient had to go through their screening, alongside a critical care consultation with physicians trained in whatever specialty was needed. Hospitalists often had to juggle far more patients than was likely safe, which stretched them thin and burned them out. He'd heard there were good ones in Hyrule Hospital, but he'd yet to meet them.

This one definitely did not fall into the criteria of a good one.

"We need to figure out who to fly," the emergency physician remarked.

The hospital crossed his arms. "Whoever doesn't die first, I suppose."

Warriors froze midway through charting something, having been basically living in the patient's room as they were too ill for him to leave. He saw Legend, who was walking swiftly out of his own room to grab supplies, also screech to a halt.

The emergency physician glanced at the hospitalist and cut through his remark. "Let's just assume they both survive the night. We still need to figure this out."

"I think we should just board both of them here," the hospitalist remarked.

Board them? In the emergency department? Was he insane? The ER was not designed to house patients with intensive care needs. The ER stabilized people, fixed immediate issues, and then moved them to where they needed to go, whether it was a follow up with primary care, a bed in the acute care floors, to the operating room, or a straight shot up to an ICU room. ED nurses could have up to four patients - they didn't have the staffing to dedicate a nurse to just a single patient, as these two clearly needed the extra care and undivided attention. The hospitalist was suggesting they stay?

Legend whirled on the pair of physicians. "Absolutely not. These two patients need an ICU. That's inappropriate care."

"We have no beds," the hospitalist argued.

"We have one bed," Warriors fired back. "And the other hospital has one as well."

"Our ICU nurses can't handle this kind of patient," the hospitalist retorted.

Legend huffed. "Then they're not actual ICU nurses."

The emergency physician piped up, emboldened by the nurses. "They're right. These patients are absolutely not staying here."

The hospitalist's face grew sour, and he started to shuffle towards a computer elsewhere to look more thoroughly at the patients' charts again.

The emergency physician glanced at the pair. "Thank you."

Warriors and Legend both nodded, watching the doctor follow his peer to ensure he actually worked this out. The two nurses looked at each other next, just for a moment, a silent respect settling between them, before they went back to work.

XXX

Hyrule stared at the dispatch information. "Does... does this say entrapment at the Salvation Army?"

"How...?" Mo started to ask, just as confused. "What...?"

Dot laughed outright. "Oh my gosh, wait - look at the age. That's got to be Beedle."

Hyrule groaned. How in the world had Beedle gotten himself entrapped somewhere around the Salvation Army?

The pair quickly found out as they arrived with the fire department. Beedle had situated himself in the donation booth, smiling pleasantly as they arrived.

"Beedle," Hyrule immediately said, hands on his hips. "What in the world are you doing?"

"I saw some shady looking guy walking into the store," Beedle explained. "I wanted to make sure he didn't burn the place down! So I hid in here."

"How are you stuck?" Mo asked.

"I can't get out!" Beedle gestured around himself.

"Well how did you get in?"

Beedle pointed behind him. "There's a door here."

Mo and Hyrule looked at each other. Then the firefighters.

One of their coworkers chewed his lip, half exasperated and half amused. "So uh... did you try the door, then?"

Beedle blinked and turned around, jiggling at the latch a little before the door opened. "Oh! Thank you!"

"Oh my heaven," Mo muttered, face in his hands.

A police officer then approached. "Sir, the store manager is also citing you for trespassing."

Beedle jumped, clearly affronted. "Trespassing? I was protecting them!" With a huff, he added, "That's it! The next time a shady person walks by I'm just going to let them burn the store."

Hyrule had to cough to hide his laugh.