#I’m not gone forever I have bronchitis

[a-room-of-my-own]

Friendly pagan spirit is trying to reach out to me but I’m tired so I’m on spiritual voicemail.

Higher spirits will leave you alone, spirits like her will send crows to crash into your windows.

TWICE.

[alberivh]

VEILLE CONGRATULATIONS FOR YOUR MILESTONE YOU DESERVE IT MY LOVE >_< !!!

can i request for first and last letter with childe? T^T childe has so much potential for angst,, thank you for this!! <3

The first and Last

summaries : where childe open his ‘safebox’ after a long time ever since your last appearence in his dream. and because of his undelightful sight of numbness and vulnerable feeling, he decided to read the first and the last letter from you, his dead fiancé.

character : childe x GN! Reader

contains : sickness (implementations of bronchitis), major character death, heavy angst, slight comfort/hurt, over all pure angst, mentions of losing weight.

A/N : hELLO AERI! Thank you very much for requesting this, i hope this suits your liking! (( also please do check aeri’s page @dilucbar for more interesting genshin fic and writing hehe ))

as childe breaks onto the ground of his empty mansion, his numbness began to drown him onto an exhaustion. An empty exhaustion to be exact. A simple pushed-over of his feelings are now an inexistent memory of his, he used to be so bright, but now, What happened to those charming smiles of his? Could it be burned by your ashes? Or did he just simply forgot how to provide his mistakes to love you? He doesn’t know either, All he could felt are just a simple empty tears, scrolling down through his cheekbones. making it seems like he still hide an emotions underneath the crack of his facades.

he drags his body into his bedroom. It’s heavy feelings occurs his way onto his side of the bed, drowning it scents onto his nose. It was pretty messy, full of untidied shirt, fragrance of a dandelion parfume, and most of all, which has always been in a perfect shape and form, covered by a red ribbon, a small box has been in ‘that’ bedside for about 237th days now. The box was an unpleasant sight for him, it was a remembrance for him to realize you were gone and you couldn’t be back. After all death have always craved those who loved him forever and after.

so tonight he decided to open this box. To bring back his vulnerable emotions back. to bring back those glazing eyes of his when he saw you buried underneath the rock of your tombstone. Numb and sorrow are all he could felt, excitement while opening this treasure of his lover pieces are nothing more than a natural hunch of his nature.

The box are full of your handwritten letters you’ve left for him. You’ve always collected the copied of your letter into this old wooden-tile box incase if anything happens to you, he could recollect his memory to remembered you again. ‘In the old days, if you lost your track, find me again through this box darling, sincerely, (name).’ Written in the top of the box instruction. He opens through the first letter of the stockpiles , it was one of your first letter for him. The most memorable one in fact. Written in the most familiar and comforting handwriting he has missed for ages.

to my dearest, ajax.

I haven’t seen you in ages, where have you been? Have you had a good time with the new recruits? Are you feeling well? Do you have any new interest while exploring the inner city of fontaine? AHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTION FOR YOU, YOU SHOULD JUST BE BACK SO I COULD INTEROGATE YOU MOREE,, I was about to surprised you back then with a classic snzehnayan dish you’ve always craved for, but you know.. you just disappeared to a dust and it make me thinks you are a hallucination of mine, but now i’ve heard you have an amazing time in fontaine, i couldn’t help but smile and feel relieved. i’m glad you had a great time darling, Really glad in fact!

So please do bring me some souvenir as a return of your..compensation for keeping me waiting hehe, i’ll see you soon then!

from, your lover, (name)

It was your last letter you’ve sent to your lover, before childe came screaming on your name at the emergency room, searching for your figure to be embrace in his arm. To comfort you he said, despite the worries and sweats he witness while in his way to check your structure, you’re his fiance after all, He couldn’t lose you for everything, childe is too selfish to expect the best of you.

He remembers when he was feeding you, taking care of you like another baby-sibling of his and still loves you nonetheless. Maybe only childe could do it, he prepared everything for you, leading you with the wheelchair or even hand carry you in one arm if your condition lead you to be more clingy to him. He does it all for you, for you to be happy and stay a little bit more longer than he expected to be. Just for you to be more selfish, so death could wait longer for your arrival.

Bronchitis is the name of the disease, a deadly one in fact. If it were not taken care of, maybe you were already dead by now. Maybe it would be pointless for childe to scream your name in the emergency room, searching for you, anyone but you.

as you were coughing in his arms ; making many form of mucus in your lungs, while he carries you in his shoulder, patting your back so you could feel much more in ease. You feel so light now and you’ve lost so many weight, it worries him to the edge. Though your tenderness have always lingers onto his body, it still stressed him, you’re not supposed to be gone this fast, you’re supposed to be alive and well. Let him die, he is a murderer of the innocence yet he still live long and well. How ironic it is for the sinner to always stand as the first and the last?

“ajax..i’ve prepared so many things for you, these past days..though i would say i’m still scared of letting you go..”

“Hmm..and why is it my love?” , curious and in interest of knowing much more of your recent condition, he asked you straightforwardly. Voice gone anxious and body became colder than before, you find it precious how he always prioritize you over everything.

“i just don’t want to die..i don’t want to..this breathing ventilator sucks..i really want to be with you ajax, i really want to..” you were sobbing in his jacket, hiding your face in his embrace, not wanting him to see the awful side of you for being too egoistic for your own stability.

“just, ajax..if i left you..please take that box i’ve always brought..read the last letter if you’re ready..i loved you…so much..”

you’re lost in the snow, starting your new ways in heaven. Leaving him behind ; alone. even after encouraging you to stay longer than he will, though if he think it again, it was all a bullshit for you to stay. now, he is ready to witness the pieces of you he always wanted to knew, a new pieces of you to be loved again by him. Just please let it be a decent farewell, he didn’t ask for more, but just a decent love and farewell are all he could ask for.

opening in terror of expectation. he found himself to be quite charmed by the appearence of this letter. Sniffs and sobs crawling down to his cheeksbone, making it seems like he was finally reaching his emotions after the emptiness he felt these past seconds.

to, my dearest, ajax.

Ajax, You probably read this when i’m already gone. It might be hard to move on and live another life, still I hope your managing well in your current life, i’ll always look upon you my love. Just please do not harm yourself, i’ve always been worried about you since i lay in this painfully awful bed. So please, would you keep it mind..? i loved you so much that i have no hesitation to continue to love you more in the afterlife. I’m just too selfish for you, for you to withess nor to love.

I don’t think i’ll be able to send you all of my letters for you in this box i’ve always treasured. Though i have certain thoughts to be filled when i wrote this letter. I know i haven’t been a good lover for you, you’ve always taken care of me and i could only nod in gratitude. I really wish the god’s gave me two chance to live with you again, just for myself to stay even if it pains me. I don’t want to die, i don’t want to. I hope i could live another day everytime i sleep in your arms, i don’t want to lose another person because my time has losen up. I regretted this, everything.

And if in another life i could called you by your name again. Please do recognize me as your old lover. Thoug if it meant for me to forget about you, at least those deja vu from our past could bring you back to me. I do not beg for more sympathy from you, you’re too precious for me. You shouldn’t have suffer this much because of me. I loved you ajax. even if it were only the last chance for you to met me again in your dream or hallucination. I wish you a farewell, a pleasing farewell. I couldn’t bare someone to hurt because of their lost, just because i’m not strong enough to stay with you and outlived you.

Ah and remember the souvenir you gave to me from fontaine? i’ve always used it ever since you gave it to me. I don’t know if you realized it or not, but this gift from you have always been one of my comfort, it was the only pieces of you that i could remember when you were not here with me. I have no regrets that i still could hold into it until my death. So take it, it could be the only remembrance of me till the end of the 100 years of your life.

So ajax, know your worth. You are far from perfect yet the sight of you have always been one of the reason i’m alive. Don’t be too selfish to give someone a chance to survive, live well and die well. You’ve always have been my last memory of the lover i clearly love wholeheartedly. Love yourself for me, for you, and for the others who listen to your pleas. Found me again in the afterlife won’t you? I love you.

from, your old lover, (name).

he was crying in tears of hopeless numbness and sorrow. How many times has he been cussing a ‘fuck’ out of his mouth? He doesn’t even know, He lost count. He was crying in the ground, leaving puffy cheeks and eyes behind. your words are too much for him to bare. You are too kind for him, too much for him. The grief of losing you are already too much for him to bare. He doesn’t want to remember you are dead, he just wants to remember how much you loved him. It comforted him, always have been. But now you’re gone, he could only hold into the tiny box of his lovers oath. It’s a curse to be loved by you.

[archangelgabriellives]

Can you please write a short Human!Gabriel AU where he takes care of the Sick!Reader?

Hey look I finally got to this one! When you sent it to me, I was so so sick, so the prompt really stuck out to me, and the only thing I wanted when I was coughing for weeks straight was a back massage. So I kept it in mind for a while until I had the time to write it. Although now that I look at the prompt, I am just now seeing the Human!Gabriel! Hahaha! Oh well, but here you go! A fic for you and me! I hope you like it!

words: 1218

rating: general

pairing: gabriel x reader

~~

Bronchitis sucks.

Just everything about it. Your nose going from unusable and clogged to a raging waterfall? Sucks. The body aches? Sucks. Chills and headaches? You better believe those suck. But the worst thing? Oh, that was the coughing.  

The deep in your chest kind of coughing that rattled your bones. And they never let up. You could drown yourself in Day and NyQuil and that damn cough still wouldn't leave you alone. And judging by the garbage can in your en suite bathroom at the bunker, you’ve taken enough of both to just about end you.  

It’d been two weeks of almost constant pain. Your body just hurt, and no amount of Tylenol seemed to be helping any more. With a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders you shuffled back to your bedroom, too tired and sore to pay any attention to whatever was happening around you. A nap would do you some good. Or at least some time to just curl up in your bed and try to keep your eyes closed before your body was wracked by another round of horrible, deep coughs. 

No sooner than you kicked your door closed behind you than Gabriel appeared in your room.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?" he called after you as he leaned against the door, his ever present smirk fully on display. A noncommittal grumble weakly spilled out of you, and as you shuffled around your bed to flop onto the mattress, you couldn't contain your coughing and groaning.

"Yeesh," Gabriel griped in his smart-alecky tone. "Never mind, you look terrible." 

"Thanks. I hadn't noticed." Your attempt at sarcasm fell pitifully short, and came out as more of a pained whine. 

"Sound terrible too." 

Normally when Gabriel got a little too lippy, a pillow thrown in his direction was enough to chase him off, but you found you didn't have the strength, and your pillow was pulled to your chest. 

“Go ‘way,” you grumbled into the fabric, just wanting to sink into your mattress and disappear for a while. 

“What’s the matter, sugar? Don't ‘cha want me to tell you a bedtime story?” 

 A deep groan rumbled out of you, whining turning into another whimper of pain as the coughing returned again. 

“Ooh,” Gabriel said with a click of his tongue, “you doing ok?” His normal snark melted away to reveal genuine concern, although you missed it since all you could focus on was the ache in your chest.

“E’erything hurts,” you mumbled. “Can't breathe, my face is a faucet, and my back hurts so much.” You curled tighter on your side, pressing your face deeper into the pillow in your arms as tears formed in your eyes. You just wanted to feel better.

“Oh, sugar, I’m sorry,” Gabriel said as he rounded the bed, finally coming close enough to lay a hand on your shoulder. “Want me to help you out?”

You made a noncommittal noise behind the pillow, but Gabriel wasn't deterred, pulling a corner down and out of the way so he could look you in the eyes.

“Let me make you feel good.” Gabriel’s eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief. A heated glare met his own gaze, but with only a waggle of his eyebrows you fell apart, too tired and sore to fight the archangel when he wanted something. 

With your nod, and accompanied eye roll, Gabriel’s smirk grew wide and hopeful. Carefully, he manhandled you into the position that he wanted you, flat on your stomach with your arms crossed under your head. After shedding his own shoes and jacket, Gabriel crawled up on the bed with you, ignoring the confused look you gave him over your shoulder and winking deviously at you. 

In one swift yet cautious movement, Gabriel threw one of his legs over yours, straddling your backside and making himself comfortable. 

“Gabriel, what-”

“I wanna ease those aching muscles, sugar.” Gabriel’s caramel voice flowed through the air, and with a sharp snap the lights faded and a few lit candles appeared, lighting the room in a soft, flickering glow. 

“Not gonna use grace?” you asked, sniffling a bit.

“Consider it a little touch therapy,” Gabriel said with a dramatic wiggle of his fingers. “Now lay there and enjoy it.”

You wanted to weigh out the consequences of this in your mind, but the act of thinking was making your headache worse, so you let Gabriel’s hands push you back down flat onto the bed. Why take this from him if it’s what he really wants to do. 

Gabriel shifted on his knees as you got comfortable again, pulling on the hem of your oversized flannel to flatten it out on your back. You felt his hands rest on your shoulders, lightly tracing simple patterns down your spine. When he reached your lower back, Gabriel started at the top again, and at each pass he increased the pressure in his fingers. 

It felt like heaven. 

You melted, relaxed more than you had for the last few weeks at Gabriel’s gentle touches. Soon, you could feel his fingertips inching their way under your shirt. His touch felt hot on your chilled skin, and you blinked at your thoughts of how much you wanted to feel more of that.

“Y/N,” Gabriel whispered, uncertainty tinting his voice, “can I...get this out of the way?”

Groaning in approval, you thought that Gabriel would be satisfied simply pushing your shirt the rest of the way up your back, but as he snapped again and your whole shirt simply vanished, you couldn't say you weren't surprised. 

“Hey,” you weakly complained, glancing behind you. 

“It’s alright, sugar,” Gabriel hummed with pleasure. “Just let me work my magic."

He dove back into his work with fervor, strong fingers kneading and massaging their way up your back. You could do nothing but groan in pleasure, the soreness you had felt seemingly forever fading under the ministrations of Gabriel’s loving hands. 

As his work moved higher up your back, Gabriel found a particularly painful knot. You hissed harshly in pain, tensing up instantly as Gabriel returned to his lighter touches. He seemed to pause for a moment, and then those wonderful hands were gone, one on either side of your chest as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss to your ribs. 

A whimper escaped you. The feel of those lips on your skin felt so right, and as he lingered for a moment, the feel of his grace tingled through your body. Then the ache in your chest vanished, and you felt like you could breathe again.

“You had a cracked rib,” Gabriel said as he sat up, his hands returning to your massage. “You humans are so fragile sometimes.” He let out a breathy laugh. “I took care of it for you.”

“Thank you,” you groaned, getting lost in the pleasure of Gabriel’s hands again. 

“If you’d like,” that sultry lilt in his voice coming back again, “I can make the rest of your pains go away.” Gabriel leaned down a little so his breath tickled the back of your neck. “Will you let me?”

Your breath left in a trembling gasp, but you found yourself nodding your approval, and those warm lips were on your skin again, chasing away your sickness with each tender kiss.

~~

Gabriel x Reader tags

@nobodys-baby-now @booknerd1324 @tvshowobsessedhuman @thewhiterabbit42 @hankypranky @feelmyroarrrr

Everything tags

@doctor-zyre @ourloveisforthelovely @authoressskr @superwhoavengelocketc-blog @mscrazycatbitch @emmii4 @redberrysweets @space-time-paradox @tgpanther @anxietywontmakethewordsgo @I4life @l4life @acarpouschimerical @warlockwriter @geekymagicalpotato @mir567 @azlinh @justa-crayon @turkeycleverness @shaylybaby2032

[your-brother-crutchie]

Place We Were Made

So, I’m still alive?

Ummm, also I really love Maisie Peters and just needed to write this fic so here’s a link to her song. Some lines in this are taken word for word from her so you really should go listen to it, I’m nowhere near clever enough to come up with anything this beautiful

——————————— 

Albert had invited Spot and Race to some club in Queens. Apparently, his girlfriend was in a band and they were playing there that night. They weren’t to say anything but Albert had told them that he desperately needed somebody with him to stop him from going insane. He knew that Race could act and, even if Spot didn’t really care, that was enough to help Albert pretend to like Beth’s band.

Spot was stood at the bar whilst the band set up, Albert downing shots to get through the night whilst Spot ordered drinks for him and Race with his brother’s ID. It was nice to have your siblings around to exploit for alcohol. Spot always wondered whether it upset Race, he knew that he missed his siblings. Although he’d never met them, Spot often wondered whether Marco, the oldest, would have let Race borrow his ID to go out. Probably not. From what Spot had heard, Marco was the sensible one. That tended to be what growing up raising your siblings did to you.

Looking across at Race, Spot could tell that he was already tipsy. They’d stolen a bottle of gin from Spot’s dad before coming out and Race had probably had the majority of it. He’d managed to find himself a stool and was giggling with Albert as they watched Beth and the other girls get into position. If Albert had been banking on Race helping him keep a straight face, Spot probably should have worked harder to keep him sober. 

He watched Race lean heavily on Albert, draping an arm around his shoulder whilst Albert shifted uncomfortably. Unlike Race, Spot wasn’t completely blind. Every single one of their friends, including Spot, was acutely aware of the feelings Albert had had for Race once upon a time. Who knew if they’d ever gone away? From the way Albert was doing anything but looking at Race, Spot guessed they’d never completely left. Race had always been the only one to never notice. He didn’t know what it was, but something in Spot’s gut twisted as he watched the pair of them. They’d been friends long before Spot had got there but there was something about seeing them together, so close like that, that made Spot squirm.

As Beth’s band was starting to play its first song, Spot made his way over to their table, whisky in one hand for him, JD and coke in the other for Race. He used the opportunity of putting the drinks down to push Albert out of the way and sat in the middle, letting Race prop himself up against his shoulder instead.

The three of them were silent for a few minutes, just listening to the band play and trying to think of what to say. Eventually, Race managed to slur his words into a sentence and interrupted the heavy quiet of their little bubble, “Albert. They’re shit.”

Albert just nodded slowly, eventually letting his head drop into his hands but picked it up quickly, as if remembering that Beth could be watching. With a big smile, he whispered, “I know,” through gritted teeth.

Rolling his eyes, Spot took a long sip of his whisky, wishing this would be over yet not wanting Race to sit upright. There was something calming about the way Race’s soft curls tickled his neck, his breath hot against his t-shirt.

——————————— 

When the set eventually finished, Spot let out a sigh of relief, shaking his head as he watched Albert plaster on a smile to greet Beth. Something was going to go wrong there and very soon, be it Albert’s lingering feelings for Race or the fact he couldn’t stand sitting through her band without his friends there.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Spot turned to see Race standing behind him, shaking his cigarette box in his hand and tilting his head towards the door. He stood, letting Race take his hand and lead him along behind him. They probably shouldn’t have left Albert yet but Race only ever wanted to smoke when something was bothering him and Spot wasn’t going to let him go alone. 

They made their way out of the club, heading past the bouncer, showing the stamps on the backs of their hands so he knew they’d want back in. Race led them down the alley to the side of the club, behind one of the bins and against the brick wall. Here, they were hidden from the street. If someone came looking for them, they’d have to venture into the dark alley and Spot had a feeling no one but Race was stupid enough to do that.

He pulled a cigarette out of the packet, resting it between his lips as he dug in his back pocket for his lighter. Coming up empty, Race blinked at Spot and he sighed, getting his own out and lighting it for him, “Why are you smoking tonight?” Spot watched as Race took a drag, something behind his eyes relaxing the second the smoke spiralled out of his lips and up into the cold air. The early morning was dark but a streetlight nearby cast enough light to cause the bags around Race’s eyes to look heavy and dark.

“Just to choke that feeling, you know?” 

As much as Spot didn’t want to admit it, he did know. He knew so much about coping and this way that Race coped especially. He had stopped a few months ago after Race ended up hospitalised for his habit. Bronchitis and smoking didn’t really go well together but it hadn’t been enough to stop Race, as much as Spot had pleaded, “ ‘Till the walls don’t need the ceiling, right?” It was something they’d always said to each other, something about opening up the part of the brain that shut down when Race was feeling particularly bad.

Nodding slowly, Race went quiet as he just breathed, in and out, smoke flowing through his lungs and flooding the air above them. They were silent for a few minutes until Race eventually stubbed his cigarette out and flicked it into the bin beside them, turning to Spot, “All we ever talk about is leaving.”

Spot had to admit, this took him by surprise. He thought about it and realised it was true; so many nights turned into long conversations about the places they would go when they got away from the city. He knew that Race had never liked it there but Spot was strangely fond of his little corner of New York, “Okay?” Yeah, he talked about going away but never permanently and definitely not yet. However, there was something final about the look in Race’s eyes.

“It’s just- I’m actually going to do it.” Race was certain, Spot could tell just from looking at him, and he realised then that this was what Race had been thinking about all night. He’d never normally have got so drunk when he was meant to be supporting Albert if something wasn’t bothering him the whole time and Spot should have noticed it, “I’m going to England for university.”

This practically floored Spot, who leaned his head back against the cool brick wall as he felt the blood start to pound in his ears. Race was going to leave. He should have known it was coming but nothing could have prepared him for this. Race was going to leave him behind. His whispered words barely passed his lips as his unfocussed eyes blinked at Race, “Are you sure?” He knew it was too late but he had to try. A good friend wouldn’t try to hold him back but Spot couldn’t help being selfish. He didn’t want Race to leave.

“It’s not forever, it’s just-“ Sighing, Race fumbled with his cardigan sleeves and ran a stressed hand through his mop of curls, “Look, I just don’t want to end up trapped here. It doesn’t mean we won’t be friends anymore,” He must have seen Spot growing more and more distressed, as he took his hand and leaned his head on his shoulder, tickling his neck with his hair, “Look, all that I know is, no matter how far away, this is the place we were made. I may not have grown up here but you and I know every streetlight, every nook and cranny of this city. Alright, maybe the colours will change but this is still home. We’ve still got the fires on the beach, all that time we’ve spent together. Maybe I’m far away but the memories won’t just go away. I need to go somewhere new but I’ll always come back here- back here for you.”

Spot glanced out the mouth of the alley, seeing the flickering lights of the city and rush of traffic, even at two am. He caught Albert running after Beth and noticed a construction site raising a building from the ground. Maybe things would change around him but Race promised that they would stay the same and one day he would come back for him. So Spot put on a teary smile and hugged his best friend.

——————————— 

Spot and Race sat on the steps outside Race’s apartment building, his suitcases piled up next to them, as they waited for the bus that would take them to the airport where Spot would say goodbye to Race for the longest time since they’d met. He knew that Race just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere that was far away from home, but he could have picked somewhere a little closer. Somewhere that Spot could have visited. England was so much money away.

Looking at Race, Spot bit his tongue to stop himself from crying. He was going to allow himself one tear and it was for after Race had turned away at the airport so that no one who knew him would ever see it. One big flaw in that plan, however, was the fact that Spot couldn’t stop thinking about all of the time he’d spent with Race and what he was going to do with his days now that he was leaving. Spot remembered one time when they’d played poker in his tiny bedroom and Race had talked about boys he now called exes, freezing cold because the boiler had been broken for weeks. He remembered that twist in his gut then, the one that was happening now, only ten times worse.

Over the last few months, since Race had told him he was leaving, Spot had started to notice the feeling growing. It practically happened every time he looked at Race now and he knew exactly what it meant, he just didn’t want to think about it. Spot wasn’t going to ruin the best friendship he’d ever had just before he walked out of his life for months and he didn’t get a chance to apologise.

The bus pulled up and, as the driver climbed out to help Race put his bags in the luggage compartment, Spot held his shaky breath and watched the New York lights flash against Race’s olive skin for the last time, thinking about how beautiful he was.

Race stopped at the door, looking back to Spot when he noticed that he wasn’t following him. A sad smile crossed his face that practically made Spot melt and he offered him his hand, “Come on, Scotty, you’ve not lost me just yet.”

[laynavile]

HEY! when u get this you have to say 5 things about urself that u like. no skimping and putting 4 or 3 or 2 or--u see where this is going. u gotta do it, u should he able to think of some cus ur awesome💜 afterwards, send this to 5 people. OKAY BYE NOW

Okay, so I'm a little late on noticing this and it was harder than I'd like to admit but,

5.) My eyes, they're hazel which is kinda meh, but depending on my emotions.. at least it seems like it.. they turn darker pure brown or super light and green and I think that's pretty neat

4.) My work ethic kinda.. hear me out, I procrastinate constantly and I like to take shortcuts as much as possible but, I get shit done when it needs to be done. I get it done and get it done the right way. I've had an ear infection for a week now, the pain is so bad it's been making me cry, I've still gone to work every day and got shit done. I had walking pneumonia and bronchitis, I could barely breathe and I still went to work. I may be "lazy" and I may take "forever" to actually do things but, once I do them I get them done quickly and effectively. My shift ends at 10pm every night I work, I get all my work done by 9:15 at the latest, all the other people who do my job are never done before 9:45, the other night I was training a new guy and I was told to let him do it all by himself and only help if he had questions or was doing something completely wrong, he didn't get done with everything until 9:55 🙄 understable if it was his first night training, but myself and 2 others have trained him a total of at least 10 times.. literally office training took me 3 nights and I had it all down, no problems. And my boss, like store manager.. one step below the fucking owner, literally thanked me the other day because I'm his best night office/shift manager, literally said I was as good if not better than his daytime office/shift manager, and he doesn't thank or compliment anyone, ever. (I apologize for going off on a bit of a rant there, I've been getting called lazy a lot recently and it really pisses me off.)

3.) My handwriting. I've been getting complimented on it since 5th grade.. do the math for me it's 4am now.. I'm almost 26 now so it's definitely been awhile 😂 literally tho I'll sometimes make random lists or write random words and stuff just cause I like my handwriting. Unless I'm rushing/my carpal tunnel is acting up at least.

2.) My writing, as much as I whine and complain and cringe at the stuff I write, I truly do like it. I know it's not always the greatest and I know a lot of the time I could do better, but I genuinely like it all. Like my ideas and word choices and what-not.

1.) My lips.. my half sister is quite jealous, she got our father's lips.. they're thin and small and while they suit her face she doesn't like them. Her constantly complaining and complimenting my lips has caused me to focus on my mouth a lot. And I do have relatively nice lips, not too thin not too thick.. but nice. (Writing this makes me feel weird tho so I'm gonna stop now.)

[shipskicksandgiggles]

I’ve been gone forever and I am very far behind in the sore throat fic and I’m sorry. I’ve got a new job which is kicking my ass right now but has also given me inspiration for another fic. If I ever ever end up writing that one I’ll let you know lol. Anyways I’m back with some hc’s. P went out on another mission with the avengers and was once again tasked with evacuating citizens in nearby buildings. The new speaker in his suit is preventing him from wearing out his voice and is making it1/?-🌸

[a lot easier for him to call out to citizens in potential danger or those who might be trapped in any derbies from the nearby fight. A rogue blast from the villains tech sends an apartment building up in flames so p jumps inside to rescue any people still inside. After several trips in and out of the building p is starting to feel the affects of breathing in so much smoke and ash. The filtration devices in his suit can only do so much when the air around him holds more spot then oxygen 2/? -🌸

After what feels like hours, p has the entire building evacuated. He ignores the ache in his throat and lungs and swings off to aid in the fight now that the people are safe. when the mission is finished and p makes it back to the tower he finally begins to feel the full effect that the smoke inhalation has had on him despite his enhanced healing. His healing has taken care of any nasty infection or cases of pneumonia/bronchitis that a normal person may have gotten but has not gotten rid 3/?-🌸

Of the raw feeling in Peter’s chest and the slight sting he feels when he breathes in too deeply. He coughs in hopes of making the feeling go away but finds that it only further aggravated his throat. H is by his side almost instantly with a glass of water and a knowing look. He explains that Karen had sent a full report of of p’s injuries and activities during the fight to him and he has already talked to dr cho about what can be done. The best thing for p right now is water and relaxation -5/?

His healing factor should clear up the sore feeling at some point during the night or early the next morning for now h convinces p to take a hot shower, the steam will also soothe his raw airways and then change into some clothes that do not smell like a campfire. H meets p in bed with a mug full of tea with a spoonful of honey and a water bottle that he’ll make p finish later on. He coaxes p into lying down besides him and isn’t at all surprised when p falls asleep just moments later 6/6 -🌸]okay, 3 things:

1. congrats on the new job, dude! proud of you!

2. I understand being busy dude. the only reason it took me so long to get to this was because of school, then the holidays, then I had 4 fics to finish up before I could get into my longer asks. it’s been a rough month, which brings me into

3. I love this! Harley is so attentive and understanding with Peter, and that’s so cute. sick fics with cuddles are the shit and I’m so into this story line. take your time with your fic tho, I know it’s gonna be great.

[thestraggletag]

Under the Weather, a Strabucks ficlet

Summary: Someone prompted Gold getting sick for the first time since he started dating Belle, so this happened. Enjoy!

Rating: G

Nicholas liked to think he had a strong constitution. He thanked his aunties for it, having saved him from malnourishment at the hands of his father. The moment they had taken him into their home they’d made sure he was properly fed, clothed and that he kept up with his vaccinations and regular medical check-ups. And though he wasn’t particularly fond of doctors and could barely stomach doctors he made sure he had an annual check-up and ate relatively-healthy.

Thanks to that, and to some stellar genetics- the only explanation as to how Malcolm Gold, a man who lived from vice to vice, was alive and in relatively good shape- he seldom got sick, something people used as further evidence he was a soulless robot who lived off coffee and crushed dreams. Colourful, but certainly a reputation that had its uses.

It was good that he hardly ever got sick because he was a lousy patient. Being ill left him feeling incredibly vulnerable and weak, things he had avoided ever since he was a child and he’d learned the world ate the weak and helpless up. Being such in front of people was dangerous. So when he did get sick he had a routine: he rang his physician, who made a house call, got the necessary medication, instructed his housekeeper, Mrs Potts, to make him soups and other foods he could easily heat up, and waited it out, feeling miserable but somewhat better in the safety of his apartment.

So when he came down with what felt like the worst cold in history- bronchitis, actually, as his doctor had stressed- he did what he always did. He instructed Mary Margaret to cancel his meetings and forward him only important calls from certain people, told Mrs Potts to cook him up his usual preferred soups and stews and then promptly passed out in a nest of blankets on his bed. He was more out of it than usual, having trouble even waking up every time his alarm rang to remind him to take his medicine. By the third day he’d given up personal hygiene- it was difficult enough dragging himself to the bathroom to take a piss, the idea of actually showering seemed impossible to pull off- had barely managed to eat a bowl of soup and some crackers and he was relatively certain he had coughed up phlegm all over one side of the bed, reason why he tried to curl up on the other.

He was so out of it he didn’t hear the knocking, or the ringing of the bell. It was only when his phone rang, connected to a speaker on his bedside table so he could not ignore it, that he realised Belle was outside his door.

“Nick? Are we still on for today? I didn’t get the date wrong, did I?”

He did a mental calculation and realised it was Saturday and he had plans with Belle to see the new exhibit at the Met and have tea at the Petrie Court Cafe after. He had meant to cancel earlier, but he had forgotten in the haze of medication and sleep. He mustered all of his strength to reply, hoping to sound anything close to normal, but his voice came out as a raspy, gravelly mess.

“Nick, sweetheart, are you sick? Open up.”

He thought about denying her, but it would be unspeakably rude and he risked upsetting Belle. What they had was new and fragile, and he was already struggling not to fuck it up as it was. He’d open the door, keep his distance- lest he make her sick- and tell her he was a bit under the weather and would call her when he was feeling better.

He didn’t expect her to just come in, or to run her hands through his sweaty hair and feel his forehead. He felt and surely looked like death warmed over. He was already stumped as to why Belle was attracted to him, but he could not imagine her, or anyone, wanting to be even near him at the state he was in.

“You don’t have a fever, but you need a bath and some food, from the looks of it. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

He wanted to object. Wanted to tell her she was young and she should got enjoy her weekend. They could reschedule for later. But his voice refused to cooperate and all he could do was allowed himself to be dragged to the bathroom. Belle ran him a bath, which his shaky knees thanked her for, and helped him wash, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world. As if she wasn’t having the sudden realisation that he was too old, too skinny, too ugly.

“Come on, darling, tilt your head for me so I can rinse off the shampoo.”

Though he felt he was living his worst nightmare- he was weak and helpless and Belle, the best thing that had ever happened to him, was likely going to walk out of his life forever- he was immensely relieved to be clean. He didn’t even care that Belle led him back to his living room couch instead of his bed, and tucked the throw blanket around him. It was nice of her to see to his comfort before leaving, and perhaps once he felt better he could do something… some grand gesture, something that would make him consider him worth pursuing. After all, he hardly got sick, he could certainly avoid having Belle see him like this.

“Sorry to wake you, but I made you some tea and toast. And where’s your linen closet?

He opened his eyes to find a steaming cup of tea and a plate with toast and strawberry jam, and Belle holding what looked like his dirty bedding.

“What are you doing?”

He attributed his ability to talk to the sheer shock of finding her there with a pile of his sheets in her hands.

“Changing the sheets, of course. I’m also airing out the room, you’ll feel much better when you go back. Fresh air always helps me when I’m sick.”

He watched her drag the sheets towards the laundry room, catching her looking at him from time to time till he took a sip of the tea and started nibbling at the toast. The tea had a bit of honey in it and a lot of sugar, just like he preferred it best when sick, and the bit of familiar comfort made his body relax somewhat, slowly adjusting to the presence of Belle as she flitted about. When she saw the cup empty and the toast gone she smiled like he had accomplished some incredible feat and a shameful part of him practically melted in happiness.

“Wanna watch a movie or do you want me to go so you can get some rest?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to leave, his mind arriving to the logical conclusion that it’s what she wanted to do. And it would be more comfortable, surely, to be alone to wallow in his sickness like he always did. It was a familiar habit, and there was safety in it.

But, for some reason, it didn’t feel right.

“I’d love to watch a movie.”

Half an hour into the movie- something about WWII- he was struck by the intimacy of it all. They were barely touching, his head was on her lap and she was stroking his hair idly, but for some reason it all felt incredibly close and personal. And though it was uncomfortable and made him feel anxious it was a… good kind of anxious. A strangely pleasant quiver in his stomach, the sort that left him warm and looking forward to more.

“You’re looking so much better, Nick, I’m so glad. Next time let me know if you feel sick, you don’t have to suffer through it alone.”

“I will, I promise.”

Strangely, he meant it.

[inthebreadbinwrites]

7 & reddie :)

Wild Heart

read on ao3

a/n: I am so so sorry this took so long, I came down with and I still have bronchitis and I was struggling to write when feeling sick. I’ll post the other prompt tomorrow. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

“I need your help.” Richie looked up at his best friend witha huge grin. He loved it when Eddie needed him for something.

“What can I help you with, my dearest Eds?” he asked, layingdown the comic he had been reading.

“I want to make Bill jealous, so will you maybe… pretend tobe my boyfriend?” Eddie said, giving him a sheepish look. Richie swore he couldhear the Windows crashing sound as his brain shut down. That was not what hewas expecting Eddie to ask.

Eddie had recently broken up with Bill Denbrough, their bestfriend and leader of the Losers, after a year of dating. Bill had gotten onto thebaseball team and had changed drastically. He’d started drinking and treatingEddie like shit. The other Losers had heard the way Bill spoke to Eddie andconvinced him to dump him. Eddie had actually done the deed when a drunken Billhad started yelling at him for wanting to hang with the Losers during a partyand not his baseball friends. Richie had tried to stand up for Eddie and hadgotten a black eye for his troubles. After that, Eddie broke up with Bill andthe other boy hadn’t spoken to the Losers since.

Except he had just reached out the Losers to have aconversation with them. Richie felt kind of torn about that. He wanted Billback, he was still one of his best friends but he didn’t want Eddie to get hurtagain. Then there was also the fact that he was hopelessly in love with Eddie,and had been since he was 14.

“Eds… don’t you want him back?” Eddie shook his head.

“I can’t be with him again, Richie. Not after the way he treatedme.” Richie took in a deep breath before considering Eddie’s plea. Making Billjealous was petty, but he really couldn’t say no to Eddie.

“Fine. I’ll do it, but we need to fill in the others.” Eddiewalked over to the desk chair Richie was sitting on and hugged him.”

“Thank you, Rich.” He mumbled into Richie’s ratty hoodie. Richiethought that hug made everything that was to come worth it.

Eddie woke up the morning they were meant to meet Bill witha sigh and reluctantly got out of bed. He pulled on the outfit he’d picked outfor the meeting: tight acid wash jeans and a light blue sweater with his whiteVans and waited for Richie to pick him up. He was nervous about seeing Billagain and about the fake boyfriend situation. They had told the others, and althoughthey were hesitant about the plan, they went along with it.

Richie honked from outside, and Eddie ran to the car. “Heyboyfriend.” Richie said, grinning.

Eddie felt his face involuntarily heat up and looked out thewindow as they drove to the quarry. Richie parked and they walked down to theirspot. Before they reached the others, Richie grabbed his hand.

“So he thinks we’re together.” He explained, giving an awkwardsmile. They walked into the clearing and saw the Losers and Bill. Bill lookeddifferent from when Eddie last saw him, he was thinner and he looked tired. He didn’t look like the boy Eddiefell in love with.

“Hey guys. Hey Bill.” Eddie said, taking a seat next toRichie. He tensed up when he felt Richie swing an arm around him and kiss thetop of his head. Bill looked shocked for a second before taking a deep breath andstarting to talk.

“G-guys. I-I’m s-s-sorry. I’m s-sorry for l-leaving you andI’m s-sorry for changing. R-r-richie, I’m sorry for s-s-socking you in thef-face.” He turned to Eddie. “Eddie. I’m s-sorry for t-treating you l-likeshit. I-if I could t-take it back, I w-would. I j-just want you guys b-back. Iw-want my r-real friends a-again.”

The others sat still for a few moments before Mike got upand folded Bill into a hug. He was followed by Ben, Bev, Stan and Richie. Theylooked towards Eddie, who got up and threw their arms around them.

“Losers Club forever.” Mike mumbled.  Eddie couldn’t help but agree. They sat andtalked for a while longer before people started to leave, until it was justEddie, Richie and Bill.

“E-ed. Can I t-talk to y-you please?” Bill asked. Eddienodded and walked over to him, gesturing to Richie to stay still.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked.

“I’m h-happy for you and R-rich. E-even when we were together,I k-knew you l-liked him. T-that’s probably w-why I punched h-him.”

“Oh. Thanks Bill.” Bill hugged him before saying goodbye toRichie and leaving. Eddie sat down and thought about what he had said. Had hereally liked Richie before? He thought about the way his heart always sped up aroundthe Trashmouth and how he could never quite get him out of his head. He had hisanswer.

He got up, walked over to Richie and kissed him. Richie staredat him for a moment.

“Eddie. Bill’s gone.” He said, gawking at him.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s always been you.”

prompts are from this list

[crazybigredlove]

14th August 2013 

Dear Pete, 

Working from home today because for the most part I couldn't drag myself out of bed. I know everyone will say I'm being my usual drama queen self, especially as it's not really like anything has gone wrong, but screw them because I dragged myself in there yesterday even though every morsel and taste of food I've ever consumed was hurled up during that walk to the office. 

Nothing really went wrong. Oh yeah, except for questioning my entire existence, hating my job to the point I want to kill someone, my best friend running away, and accidentally having sex with my best friend's brother who just happens to also be my roommate (a tryst which everyone involved is now pretending never happened). 

Other than that things are grand. 

You remember Holly? You left a few months ago not five years ago, of course you remember Holly. Anyway, she's just taken a fancy-shmancy and overly impressive job with some pharmaceutical company writing all the articles for their new website. Working from home and setting her own hours, she is officially ten times more successful than me now. No wonder I didn't want to get out of bed this morning. 

When I called Miranda to tell her I couldn't go in she raised some interesting points whilst loudly exhaling at me with such frequency that it had me questioning if she'd developed a breathing difficulty since the last time I saw her. 

"Well if you're really sick, Olivia. Fine. I still need those articles before the day is over though. This shouldn't be another day you just wallow at home because one of your relationships didn't work out." 

"But-" "There's no point protesting," she says in a tired voice. "You have worked for me long enough. Bronchitis, tonsillitis, plague, or zombie invasion, you would still come in. Failed date and you need a week on the couch. It has to stop, Liv." "Oh." Her tone softens. "Liv, it's not like I don't know what you're going through. I do. Being the only single at the party is exhausting. The constant questions, the sympathetic looks, people wondering what's wrong with you; but you can't keep letting it affect you so much though. There are going to be more bad dates. There may even be another failed relationship yet, but you have to keep living your life. Not everyone in your life should support your catastrophising each and every time he doesn't turn out to be Prince Charming." This is one of those times where there is just no response that doesn't sound meek. "I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry, be proactive. Fix it. Holly's job is going to be available. It's a promotion for you if you work at it, but no more sick days just because your life didn't turn out the way you hoped it would when you were sixteen and knew nothing about the real world. No more wasting days after each new date debriefing everyone in the office. There needs to be a change in your behaviour. I need to observe it. Nobody wants to work here forever and this could be your chance." "I'm sorry?" "Come on, Liv. This is publishing. There isn't a member of this team who doesn't have a screenplay or novel or some sort of vision of grandeur that they secretly wish they could indulge and which was the very reason they wanted to write for a living back at day one. If you get this position you get your name out there more. That novel or screenplay or stage play of yours, this position could be what gets you enough publicity to get it published." 

Stunned silence follows because I have been blind-sided. 

"Right," Miranda says after a pause. "Well that's all I have to say. You know where I stand. You know what your options are here." 

And then, as if he'd waiting for the perfect time, that exact moment in the timeline of my life that would enable him to make the most cyclonic impact on my calm, he rang. Big Red. 

Miranda's words were still fresh in my ears and her interpretation of how Big Red and men like him send me on an emotional rollercoaster still fresh in my mind. Feeling the skip in my pulse at his name on the screen for the first time in a week made my stomach fall. She was right. She was so, so very right. 

Then my gag reflex kicked in for reasons that as yet are unclear to me. 

"I just wanted to see how you're doing." "Why?" Monotone. This boy has not earned variations in pitch. "What's wrong with you? I just wanted to see how you're doing, babe. I missed you" "Well then maybe you should've made some time on the weekend. Or, I don't know, replied to a text, or answered a phone call, or given me some indication that you were alive." "Are you angry with me?" 

It was the point where it was time to stop pretending that this had even a one percent chance of working. The man had been married before. Now he was acting like asking me to commit to a relationship and then ignoring me for the following week and a half was acceptable behaviour. Deal breaker. 

"Yeah I am. Look this is done. Can we please stop pretending this might go somewhere? I don't have the energy." "Are you fucking serious?" Animosity and aggression slapped me through the phone. 

"Why are you getting angry with me? You're obviously not so taken with me that you want to reply to one text a week or spend time together, so what's the point? All week you couldn't find two seconds to send me a text message after practically moving into my house the week before. Whatever is going on here is not normal." I say softly. I'm not fighting; I'm done. "Right, so I don't spend one weekend with you and it's fucking over." 

It would be so easy right then, so easy to cave and invite him over, to apologise for my behaviour, but it's not there. After trying to force a symbiotic relationship on me like some sort of gross bacteria or amoeba or whatever the hell it is that has that sort of relationship, he'd disappeared. It was weird. It was exhausting. It made me question my self-worth. 

After five years of being happily single I refuse to commit to something that reeked so depressingly of lacklustre and sub-par commitment. 

Maybe in some far off galaxy relationships can look that way at the start and turn out okay, but I don't want them to. You can tell me I'm too fussy, that I'm waiting on a fairy tale or whatever other bullshit you're thinking, but I want a guy who can't get enough of me at the start. Not a guy who is desperate to own me but who I can't count on. I want someone who doesn't make me suspicious from day one. 

"To be fair, I'm not sure that it ever really started," I say with dryness I didn't know I possessed. Then the phone goes dead. 

Groaning, wishing he'd call back, wanting to call him back, but lying here knowing none of that changes anything. What do you even do with a thirty-year-old man who thinks that hanging up on someone is the appropriate way to end a conversation he isn't enjoying? 

Miranda has given me a list of articles to write today, each less stimulating than the last, and I may be forced to gouge my eyes out with a pen just to get out of it. Procrastinating like I champion, instead of working I pulled that old manuscript from all those years ago up onto the laptop and I've been tapping away on the keys for hours now. What can I say? Miranda pays me enough that it pays the bills, but I can't do that job forever. I need to finish that stupid manuscript. Just like she said. 

Hating so hard on how right she is. 

Feeling so brave and heroic over here taking a chance and working on my goals, that I am contemplating going out and buying myself a cape. Of course those articles need to be written before I buy the cape because, as she said, it's going to be easier to get that novel published if she gives me Holly's old job, and I have a sneaking suspicion that capes are expensive. 

After a few hours of tapping away and having it all float around in my brain there was so much going on in there that I needed to release the pressure valve a little. Taking a little break from staring at the computer I picked up the phone. 

"Is everything okay?" "No, I'm confused. I told Big Red not to call anymore, Miranda is potentially offering me Holly's job, I am working from home because my feelings are hurt beyond repair, and overall I really don't think that gluten can be so bad for me that I can't occasionally have bread. Surely if it was going to kill me it would've done it by now. I mean, it's just one grilled cheese every now and again, right? How bad can that be?" "Liv?" His voice is stern. "Yes, Christopher?" "Interrupting me at work so you can whinge about your life is not okay. If it's an emergency, fine. If you have a medical question that can't wait, then absolutely. If you've flooded the apartment and don't know what to do, then that's acceptable and I will answer my phone. But ringing for a general chat about whether or not you can eat gluten is not okay." "But-" "No. Send a text and when I'm free I will call back." He doesn't sound cranky, just tired. Worn out of nearly two months of having to single-handedly deal with my crap I bet. "Fine," I reply sulkily whilst making a mental note to send him a reminder later about what his housemate duties entail. 

"We can talk about everything when I get home." There was an emphasis on the word 'everything' that left me ill at ease and with a mild distaste in my mouth. 

I wasn't there when he got home. I ran away to CrossFit so I could lift, jump, run, and altogether avoid him. Then I went to Andrew's till it was late and there was every chance Chris would be in bed. 

Home, work, love. Those are the big three. I have an apartment that I am very happy with (although not going to comment on housemate) so that is one tick. If I can get this manuscript finished maybe I'll be able to tick off the second. Maybe two out of three will keep me happy enough. 

Oh, that reminds me. I think I broke my toe. I kicked the entertainment unit in the dark whilst trying to find Buffy and avoid Christopher. I'd get him to look at it, but then I broke my toe whilst avoiding interacting with him in person and then I would've broken my toe for nothing. 

I have a novel to finish. Also, I'm changing the lighting in my bedroom. I can no longer handle myself in direct light. I feel icky. Having a floor to ceiling mirror the length of one wall is not assisting in the building of self-confidence. 

Lastly, if you didn't work it out, that "relationship" lasted about nineteen days. I think that officially makes it my shortest relationship ever. Look at me overachieving. I'm all about PRs. 

Once again I am stretching the definition of “relationship” to mean whatever the hell I want it to mean. 

Liv x 

[mittensmorgul]

I'm shook. Dean actually admitted that Chuck doesn't care, that Chuck just left and ignored all of his responsibilities. I thought Dean was pro-Chuck, I mean, he called Chuck a bestie, didn't he? I'm not sure if he really resents Chuck or he was just too depressed to think straight. I'm still shook though. (Oh, and if you're feeling unwell I hope you recover. I wish you luck. May October be kind to you.)

Aahhh, thank you. :P And yeah, I’ve been sick since Walker-Stalker Philly a few weeks ago, stupid con crud that turned into bronchitis because I am a weakling with no immune system. :D

I’ve also been debating whether I should write tonight (fic, which I have a deadline of december 2 on and I’m not even close to finished on), or if I should write a long meta on Fathers, or if I should just go to sleep and try again tomorrow. But this bit about Chuck, and how Dean feels about Chuck as an absent father figure, would factor into that meta.

I mean Dean’s always held a grudge against God since… ever probably, but at least in text as far back as 5.02 when Cas set out in search of God to help stop the apocalypse. Chuck never really grew into anything Dean could really respect any more than that, you know? Even the burden Chuck laid on him at the end of s11 wasn’t what Dean wanted. Dean had his ENTIRE LIFE ruined because of Chuck’s inability to clean up his own mess, and then suddenly Dean fixes it FOR him, and Chuck just sashays off into the sunset with Amara and again lays the entire burden for taking care of EVERYTHING at Dean’s feet… but Dean’s still just a guy doing a job. He doesn’t have Cosmic God Powers to just fix stuff when it goes wrong. How the hell is he meant to take care of the entire world?

He does try, though. Oh, how he tries. Until it crushes and breaks him.

(and whoopsie this is actually shaping up to BE that meta on fathers I’ve been thinking about, so guess how I’m gonna spend the next hour! WHEEE! *tosses fic writing plans out the window*)

I’ll start with the easiest one: Dean referring to Chuck as his bestie. In 12.04:

Gail: Do you know God, gentlemen?Dean: Oh yeah. Yeah, we’re- we’re besties.

Said with about 9 tons of sarcasm. I’d find a gif to demonstrate just how done Dean was in that scene, but he was pretty much done with EVERYTHING in 12.04. I think that nicely sums up his attitude going into that conversation.

But yes, I 100% do feel like Dean resents Chuck– for laying this burden on him and not giving him ANYTHING else. He laid this out to Chuck’s face in 11.21:

Dean: Here’s the thing, um…Chuck… And I mean no disrespect. Um… I’m guessing you came back to help with the Darkness, and that’s great. That’s, you know – It’s fantastic. Um, but you’ve been gone a – a… long, long time. And there’s so much crap that has gone down on the Earth for thousands of years. I mean, plagues and wars, slaughters. And you were, I don’t know, writing books, going to fan conventions. Were you even aware, o-or did you just tune it out?Chuck: I was aware, Dean.Dean: But you did nothing. And, again, I-I’m not trying to piss you off. You know, I don’t want to turn into a pillar of salt.Chuck: I actually… didn’t do that.Dean: Okay. People – People pray to you. People build churches for you. They fight wars in your name, and you did nothing.Chuck: You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on – Real hands-on for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created… would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. [Sighs] It’s enabling.Dean: But it didn’t get better.Chuck: Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.Dean: Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.Chuck: I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

And that’s it, really. The crux of Dean’s feelings toward Chuck. And that never really changed. Dean still had to take the burden of sacrifice on HIMSELF (carrying the Soul Bomb to Amara) because Chuck didn’t or couldn’t or just wouldn’t. It wasn’t Chuck that saved the world there, it was Dean using his words with Amara, dragging Chuck kicking and screaming into the conversation.

Okay, not kicking and screaming, more like whimpering and huddling… whatever… :P

But Chuck told Dean not to confuse him with John, and mistake his own “complicated upbringing” for Chuck’s “parenting” of the entire universe. And yet… as above, so below. And Chuck himself “chose” Dean as his mirror.

Then we have Dean’s own complicated Father Issues, from how John raised him, to how he was forced to raise Sam. As he said in 12.22 to Mary, he was forced to not only be a father to Sam, but a mother as well. And it wasn’t fair to Dean, and he hated Mary for her deal that put him in that position in the first place. What was unsaid there, but plain as day anyway, was that he hated John for it, too.

Lizbob and I were talking earlier about how Jack was describing the fact that he WAS his mother for a while before he was born, and how the very act of his birth sucked the life out of Kelly, and how that was a horrifying metaphor for motherhood, but Dean has said it himself, of Sam. Back in 10.03, when Sam was curing him of being a demon:

DEAN: You notice I tried to get as far away from you as possible? Away from your whining, your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you! Maybe I was just … tired of babysitting you. Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since … [Dean laughs.] Forever. Or maybe … Maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life!SAM: This isn’t my brother talking.DEAN: You never had a brother! Just an excuse for not manning up. But guess what: I quit.SAM: No. No, you don’t. You don’t get to quit. We don’t get to quit in this family! This family is all we have ever had!DEAN: Well, then, we got nothin’.SAM: Would you say that to Dad?DEAN: Dad? Oh, there’s a prize. There’s a man who brainwashed us into wasting our lives fighting his losing battle!

Sam’s “very existence sucked the life” out of Dean’s life, just like Jack literally did to his mother, just TWO EPISODES AFTER Dean broke through to Mary with his confession about the horrors of his life, and his anger over having to be both mother and father to Sam.

And this was about the point I hit my EUREKA! moment over why the idea of Dean being forced to be a parent to Jack just pushed every NOPE NOPE NOPE button in my entire body. Because he’s JUST NOW finally letting go of feeling like his entire life had been one long forced obligation to be a parent to Sam, and now here’s this new pseudo-manbaby with frightening and potentially Dangerous Magical Abilities who needs parenting and looking after that was foisted on him against his will AGAIN.

I mean, it’s like the ultimate in Cosmically Un-Fucking-Fair.

And even the notion that Cas should be responsible for “parenting” the giant nougat-loving nuke in lost-and-found clothes just… sits so wrong with me for the exact same reason. How long has Cas been a guardian to Dean? How big was the whole “You aren’t our babysitter” theme last season? That Cas never really had time to internalize before Jack hijacked Cas’s “babysitter” instincts for his own purposes?

Yes, it’s sweet and I can see that the parallels between Jack and Cas are being written really well so far, but the cutesy Cas-as-Jack’s-Daddy stuff just physically sickens me (which is saying something considering how physically sick I am as a baseline here…). I don’t think it’s “cute.” And I’m saying this as someone who LOVES Jack as a character.

Kelly (who was literally already “dead” at the point she met Cas, and was technically– according to Jack himself– already “Jack” at that point) had sized up Cas and decided that he would make a good guardian for Jack, and that Dagon would make a bad guardian for him, and took matters into her own hands in order to make that happen. Literally took Cas’s hand without his permission, after he’d declined to touch her stomach, and then forced his hand again after literally hijacking Baby and driving Cas to the scene of her “vision.” Then literally taking Cas’s hand again to force events to unfold as they had in the vision, without regard to any of the other horrors that played out as a result– such as Joshua having been killed by Dagon, the Colt being destroyed, Sam and Dean being hurt, Cas nearly getting killed, and then zapping enough power through Cas to kill Dagon, a being of a type we’ve only ever seen harmed by the Colt and the Lance of Michael. It was clear early on that Jack had Serious Power and yet we see he has practically NO CONTROL over it.

I am soooo tempted to apply a little bit of Miriam’s description of Becky to Jack… 

He sees something he wants and just takes it without a thought for who it might hurt. He took candy from the vending machine in 13.01, but… he kinda did that to Cas, too. Even before he was born, he saw the sort of devotion Cas had to the people he cared about and even if he didn’t understand WHY, he understood through Kelly that this was something he would need for himself. So he took it, even if it might hurt other people.

Just like he flung his power out at the sheriff when she touched him while he was being assaulted by angel radio. He didn’t intend to hurt her, but he was already in pain and frightened and that’s just how his power works for him right now… as if it’s “him but not him.” Almost like it’s an independent entity that’s in Extreme Self-Protection Mode.

That’s how Miriam described Dean, as someone who takes things and breaks things no matter who it hurts. But really… that’s not Dean, and that’s not Jack either– or at least not what Jack would CHOOSE to be. But from the outside, it kinda looks that way.

So, yeah, I LOVE the idea that Sam is finally getting a turn at forced parenthood from the other side of the equation. It fits beautifully with his own arc toward self-forgiveness and acceptance of his own powers and feelings of whether or not he was inherently evil because of what had been done to him as a baby. I LOVE the idea that Sam will get to experience being a father and mother to someone going through much the same things he did all his life (albeit as an adult, which was not a luxury Dean had when he was forced into a parental role at the age of almost five).

But for Dean? I’m horrified that this has been forced on him again. And for Cas? The fact it’s not something he chose of his own free will, nor gave informed consent to before he was sock-puppeted into becoming Jack’s babysitter… yeah, I find it moderately to seriously disturbing…

And for the sake little baby Jesus, I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT JACK IS EVIL. I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT JACK IS NOT “GOOD.” Good and evil are entirely irrelevant to this conversation.

But Jack’s power did something to Kelly. And it did something to Cas. It wasn’t done with malicious intent, but IT WAS DONE TO THEM. And it’s something that severely limited their free will. We’ve seen how Jack’s power works, without his active CHOICE to make stuff happen. He’s on a fight or flight sort of level with it right now, and it just happens to be set to overkill, you know? I’m sure he’ll get a better handle on it eventually, but I think it’s also going to be a vulnerability that others may try to exploit (enter Asmodeus, or potentially AU Michael, and possibly eventually Lucifer… this isn’t going to be an easy journey for Jack).

Anyway I think I’ve wandered so far off topic of your original question, but congrats, you won the Which Question Will Result In Actual Meta award this week! :P

I think it’s been more than an hour. *checks clock* *what even is time anymore* It’s definitely been more than an hour.

[fountainpenguin]

Oh man, I haven’t been tagged to do something in FOREVER. Thanks for the tag, @sieryn!

Hmm hmm. I tag @brighteronthesunnyside, @nixiepop, @maxinezorualuna, and/or anyone else who wants to do this. Bold the statements that apply to you and, if you want, tag a few people you’d like to get to know better.

I am 5′7″ or taller. I WEAR GLASSES (Only when driving or to see a movie) I have at least one tattoo I have at least one piercing (Nope, not even ears) I have blonde hair My abs are somewhat defined I HAVE OR HAVE HAD BRACES I LOVE MEETING NEW PEOPLE PEOPLE TELL ME I’M FUNNY HELPING PEOPLE WITH THEIR PROBLEMS IS A BIG PRIORITY TO ME I enjoy physical challenges I ENJOY MENTAL CHALLENGES I AM PLAYFULLY RUDE TO PEOPLE I KNOW WELL I STARTED TO SAY SOMETHING IRONICALLY, NOW I CAN’T STOP SAYING IT (Usually it’s “LOL bye” in multiplayer video games with my siblings) There is something I would change about my personality I CAN PLAY AN INSTRUMENT I CAN SING WELL (My voice took a hit these last few months when I suffered from bronchitis... I’m more self-conscious of it now. I can’t shake the feeling that it hasn’t come back) I can do 30 push-ups without stopping I am a fast runner I CAN DRAW WELL I HAVE A GOOD MEMORY I’m good at doing maths in my head I CAN HOLD MY BREATH UNDERWATER FOR OVER A MINUTE I HAVE BEATEN AT LEAST 2 PEOPLE IN AN ARM WRESTLE I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch I CAN THROW A PUNCH I enjoy sports I have learned a new song in the past week I have gone running at least once a week in the summer I work out at least once a week (Well, not lately) I HAVE DRAWN SOMETHING IN THE LAST MONTH I ENJOY WRITING I have done martial arts I have had my first kiss I have had alcohol I HAVE SCORED A WINNING GOAL IN SPORTS I HAVE WATCHED AN ENTIRE SEASON OF A TV SHOW IN ONE SITTING I have been to an overnight event I HAVE BEEN IN A TAXI I have been in the hospital in the past year I HAVE BEATEN A VIDEO GAME IN ONE DAY I HAVE VISITED ANOTHER COUNTRY I have been to one of my favourite band’s concerts I HAVE AT LEAST ONE PERSON I CONSIDER A BEST FRIEND I live close to my school MY PARENTS ARE STILL TOGETHER I HAVE AT LEAST ONE SIBLING I LIVE IN THE US THERE IS SNOW RIGHT NOW WHERE I LIVE I HAVE HUNG OUT WITH FRIENDS IN THE PAST MONTH (Well, cousins) I HAVE A SMARTPHONE I HAVE AT LEAST 15 CDS I share my room with someone I have a crush on a celebrity I have a crush on someone I know I have been in at least 3 relationships I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them I get crushes easily I have had a crush for over a year I have been in a relationship for over a year I have had feelings for a friend I HAVE BREAK-DANCED I KNOW A PERSON CALLED JAMIE I HAVE HAD A TEACHER WITH A LAST NAME HARD TO PRONOUNCE I have dyed my hair I am listening to a song on repeat right now I have punched someone in the past week I have known someone who has gone to jail (Not closely) I have broken a bone I have eaten a waffle today I KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE I speak at least two languages I HAVE MADE A NEW FRIEND IN THE PAST YEAR

I figured this would be a great first 2018 post for my blog. Happy New Year!!!

[ellie-bee242]

rant/ramble, feel free to ignore

this is literally just me venting my feelings by shouting into this hellscape of a virtual void so I stop flooding my gc with all my bullshit whining because my anxiety is telling me that my friends are definitely getting annoyed with it (even though they would probably tell me they aren’t). so if you don’t wanna “listen” to what has been going on in my life for the past however long, scroll on and no one will ever know.

So in January I got a job! I actually like it too! I’m a part time receptionist, and I work every other weekend at an assisted living home. It’s not much but I like it and it helps me feel accomplished, gets me experience, it’s easy on my body which is so important, and I get a little monetary independence!

Until fucking COVID, anyway. Shortly after fucking corona showed up in the US I got hit with a cold/flu and was forced to self quarantine because I’m young and healthy and tests were in short supply so I already knew doctors weren’t going to waste one on me when I have no prior underlying health issues. But after I kicked the fever and cold, the fucking cough wouldn’t go away.

I’d developed bronchitis. Nbd normally. Some steroids, an inhaler, a mask, and I’m fine to continue working. One immediate problem with that though. By the time I got in contact with a doctor who actually diagnosed me (via phone visit which felt ridiculous) the medical community had suddenly found out that steroids will apparently open you up to getting the coronavirus and will make it worse. So without steroids to help me get over bronchitis, it will take forever to clear up on it’s own (it’s been a month and I’m STILL coughing). The doctor could only prescribe an inhaler to help me breathe easier, BUT she did clear me for work so long as I wear the proper PPE. I made sure to tell her that I work with senior citizens and she insisted it was fine, so long as I wear a mask and social distance! Awesome, right?!

WRONG.

I call work to let them know a literal doctor told me I was cleared for work and what do I get in response? “Oh.... well... let me speak to our infection control nurse about it..... I’ll get back to you....” I reluctantly agree, because surely the ICN is going to agree with the doctor’s opinion, since it’s a fucking doctor, ya know? Nope. ICN said I’m not allowed back until my cough is gone.

A sidenote: one weekend of work for me is a whole paycheck since I only work every other weekend. And I’ve already missed a paycheck by this point because of my cold/flu self quarantine situation.

So that was over three weeks ago. I missed another paycheck. And I wasn’t worried about this week’s paycheck because I had switched shifts with the other weekend receptionist before this shitstorm anyway.

Except a week ago when I called to update them and let them know “yup still coughing” my boss told me I need to start calling daily. And when I called on Sunday, the receptionist Kim decided to inform me of my boss’s decision to unswitch our shift change for this coming weekend. So I WILL be missing another paycheck this weekend.

And just the whole fucking cherry on top of it all is the fact that everyone is getting stimulus checks now but I’m not eligible for one because I live with my parents, and they’ve claimed me as a dependent on their 2019 taxes. So it doesn’t fucking matter to the government that I’ve missed three fucking paychecks in a row, and that my mental health is in severe decline because of it, or that I’ve lost what little financial independence I did have. My parents claimed me as a dependent, so I don’t get a stimulus check, and because I’m over the age of 16, my parents don’t get a $500 allotment for me either, because that’s the age cut off for the dependent check.

in summary, my work protocol is bullshit, the government is a fucking joke except I’m not fucking laughing, and I want to fucking cry until I just turn to dust.

[hiemaliis]

don’t say it’s change

there were many things  fay hunter should tell richard montgomery but never would, even though she could only win because in all likelihood, spitting it out would put her mind at ease. and usually, this should have been enough --- a selfish reason to motivate her to do something. however, she feared vulnerability more than she struggled with the way her thoughts were in constant disarray. and she would make herself vulnerable if she spoke the truth she had guarded so carefully for such a long time out loud.

thinking it was one  thing. it was a cruel blow to her ego, but it also was a chink in her armour that no one could exploit because no one knew. if she were to say it, if she were to speak the words, everything would fall to pieces. and fay had never been good when it came to the concept of change. had hated it for most of her life, really.

change made things unpredictable.  and everything unpredictable held risks for fay, risks she did not wish to take, especially not after what had happened the last time she had let herself be reckless.

( guilt, it seemed, would never fall away from her. )

for a long time,  the way things had been between richard and her had been --- stable. she would be a liar if she called it  good,  but things had been consistent. they had been rivals for as long as they had realised that they were the same, conveniently forgetting that there had been a time before, a time when their relationships had been more diverse.

and this guided her  thoughts into a direction she did not want them to go, especially not in the middle of history class. or maybe, this was the right time to contemplate the mess her feelings formed --- it was not like she ever really paid attention to her teacher, anyway.

richard and her, they  shared a history, after all. a long and complicated history. a history full of complications and difficulties, but also a history of the kind of mutual understanding that was hard to find when one was forever stuck in the beginning stages of puberty and nearly everyone else who was frozen in time had been permitted to grow up. at the end of the day, there were things only richard could  truly  understand, things no one else experienced the same way.

in a terrifying way,  it sometimes felt as if they were tied together by fate because in a world where people sought to be understood, they were each other's best shot at that. and fay had never cared much about the notions of fate being a force within this universe.

looking to the side,  her eyes met richard's and she looked away, frustration dwelling up inside of her. this situation was certainly getting out of hand --- or maybe, she had never been in control of it to begin with. in any case, fay was strolling down memory lane, now, trying to figure out when things had gone from running smoothly to being a mess that just so happened to be on fire and memory lane had never been a good place for her.

because she always remembered  the loss of dear friends. like charlotte, like the first version of richard she had ever encountered --- people she had loved, dearly, in her own way and who had been ripped out of her hands yet never her heart by the cruel fangs of life. and so, there had been pain in her soul for a very long time, always mixed with some degree of guilt.

and maybe, things would  have been easier and maybe she would have been a better person if she had been allowed to keep him in her life from that first era onward, if she had not suffered that first loss quite so early, if she had not grown colder as a consequence to losing him.

because the first time  she had seen richard die, he had been taken away by illness, by something that was --- to this day --- the most common cause of her deaths. and she had felt horrible, then, because she had not known that much like her, he would recover from death, sooner or later. but as she had not known, she had found all of it  terribly  unfair. because he had been her friend, then. her first friend who had been just a friend, the first friend she had felt truly understood by.

dazed by the sudden  ring of the bell, she pressed cold fingertips against her aching eyes for a moment before, rather belatedly, noticing that richard was looking at her with an exasperated expression on his face. well, that was hardly something new, truth be told. ❛ oh, it seems like you're joining me on this plane of existence, after all, ❜ he started as soon as their eyes met. ❛ like i was saying ... auburnellica asked me to give you this. apparently, it's something for your bronchitis. and noellius told me to tell you that he expects you to come over for dinner on friday. ❜

so apparently, this was  the way that particular scenario was playing out. the family the three of them had assembled was functional, even if richard still added unnecessary syllables to his adopted ... parents' names. and for some reason, fay did not feel hurt by this. instead, she was happy for them. she had been around all three of them long enough to know that despite their differences, having a place to call home was very important to them.

❛ i see, thank you, ❜ she said as she stood, shoving her things into her bag. ❛ i will be there. ❜

after she had avoided  their house for weeks, mostly because she had not known how she would react, if she were to actually see it. it would not have been the first time for her to resent something she had originally  helped  to become reality. out of all the immortals she knew, she surely had the highest rate of having realised that despite her best intentions and efforts, she had done something terribly wrong.

next to her, richard  shrugged before he leaned against an empty table. ❛ if you do not want to come, ver, i can probably come up with a believable lie to tell auburnesta and noelius, ❜ he offered and his voice was nearly warm while his words matched the tone, especially since he had refrained from adding  since, unlike you,  i  can lie to auburn.

still, heavier than the  apparent kindness of his words weighted the near casual slip that had occurred earlier in the sentence.  ver.  short for verina. short for the name fay had used when she had first encountered him. short for a name she would probably have forgotten, had it not been for the  infuriating  knowledge that even then, he had cut her name short while he had added to everyone else's.

( what the point of that had been, she would never know. )

❛ you don't have to lie for my sake, rich, ❜ she said slowly, nervously scratching her neck. ❛ i can handle dinner with  your parents.  no big deal. though ---  ver?  ❜

from a strictly scientific  standpoint, fay's thoughts walked down the dangerous route of  he looks cute with some colour in his face  as soon as richard's pale cheeks bloomed red. it was something she did not think she had ever seen before --- he was rarely embarrassed and when he was, his tells were usually  not  a blush. and frankly, fay was grateful for this because her life was complicated enough without her finding that richard montgomery  ( or was it vohon, now? she did not know )  looked  cute  when he blushed.

❛ as if you never slipped, ❜ he replied, his expression turning indignant now. ❛ c'mon, we got latin class next. ❜

she grimaced, her left  hand toying with the strap of her bag for a moment before she exhaled. ❛ do we really want to go to that class? ❜ she asked as pale fingers reached out to grasp his sleeve, keeping him from walking away. ❛ it's not like we could possibly fail the exam. ❜

a dangerous thought, yes,  but also one that was easily backed up by --- quite some life experience. in all the years fay had attended latin classes, her grades had always been flawless. she clearly benefitted from being a native speaker.

❛ are you suggesting we skip school and do something else? ❜ richard asked, a frown on his face.

❛ like i said --- it's not like we can fail, and contrary to popular belief, i don't actually mind spending time with you, ❜ she said, still holding his sleeve. it was --- a secret, however. fay resented the idea that just because she did not hate richard, people could consider it a good plan to push them together at any possible occasion. yes, she had hid at his place the last time she had felt like the world was determined to choke her, but that had been because alternatives to him and his quiet understanding had been scarce in that moment, and because she had been more interested in watching a sad movie and crying than in talking about her feelings.

next to her, richard  snorted before he carefully eased her grip on his jacket. ❛ i think this is the nicest thing you said to me in ... twenty years, fae, ❜ he said, but she had known him too long to miss the tension in his voice. ❛ if you wish to skip to ...  hang out,  alright. i didn't see the exposition in the art museum yet. we could go there. ❜

❛ i complimented your suit at the wedding, rich, ❜ fay replied, all too happy to engage in their usual banter, leaving it to him to figure out what she was hiding between the lines. most of the time, this had been a remarkably successful strategy. ❛ and we could say i'm sick and you got a family emergency? ❜

❛ the reason why you complimented my suit is that you picked it out as it matched your dress, fae, ❜ he pointed out with a long-suffering sigh. ❛ but yes, your plan sounds like it could work. ❜

❛ your faith in my abilities remains truly astounishing, ❜ the girl grumbled as she reached for his arm and let herself rest against his side. ❛ and fear not, i won't tell your  parents.  ❜

❛ you really are the absolute worst sometimes, fae. ❜

she laughed, gently nudging  his side as they left the classroom and made their way towards whatever teacher would be likely to let them leave. ❛ it's why we get along, rich, ❜ she responded before letting her voice fall flat and weak. ❛ and  that,  in turn, is something i am glad for. ❜

[transcriptroopers]

TranscripTrooper’s FAQ

I finally started getting enough repeats that I felt vindicated adding a FAQ. If you’ve asked me one of these questions in the past, don’t sweat it! All that means is that you helped alert me to a common concern that needs to be addressed. 

Why join the army if it's not the highest paid, the most prestigious, or the most well treated? For many people, it's a family tradition. You'd be incredibly surprised how much loyalty a person can have to any given branch strictly based on their familial relations. For others, it seems to be the most direct service when it comes to helping people, probably courtesy of seeing the National Guard being so prominent. Civilians have no idea how the military works; they think the navy just sails around, the air force just flies around, and the Marines just...idk...do whatever Marines do. Plus people think the army is just the Default Military. It's like the army is the “generic brand,” you know, like someone saying “Q-Tip” when they mean “cotton swab.” Others, quite frankly, couldn't join the other forces. You'd be surprised; I knew many people who originally wanted to join another branch but either weren't smart enough or weren't physically fit enough. I distinctly remember someone in basic saying he originally was going AF, but when he brought his ASVAB scores to their recruiter office they literally told him “the army recruiters are down the hall.” What does this piece of jargon mean/do soldiers actually use this jargon? See this post and if you still have questions be sure to send me a clarified ask. My soldier character received a(n) ______ wound from combat. Would this get him discharged?

To clarify, wounds both combat and non combat can get a soldier discharged, so your soldier doesn't have to be in combat to be wounded severely enough to warrant a medboard.

Eye: if there is permanent vision damage that drops the eyes below the standards associated with Army Regulation 40-501 paragraph 3-16e, which for reference is: (1) Vision that cannot be corrected with ordinary spectacle lenses (contact lenses or other special corrective devices (telescopic lenses, etc.) are unacceptable) to at least:

20/60 in one eye and 20/60 in the other eye, or

20/50 in one eye and 20/80 in the other eye, or

20/40 in one eye and 20/100 in the other eye, or

20/20 in one eye and 20/800 in the other eye; or

(2) An eye has been enucleated. (removed) Ergo it's up to you if your soldiers meets those standards after an eye injury. If your question is, “if he goes blind in one/two eyes” then the answer is “yes.” If your soldier is “legally blind” in one eye but it is correctable with lenses/surgery, the army covers that and actually allows active duty soldiers to get corrective lens surgery even without eye injury, so barring an unreasonably long recovery time I don't see why that wouldn't apply.

Ear: harder question. If your hearing is damaged enough, (”enough” being a subjective term) your soldier might at the very least face a mandatory reclass, which means the army will assign them a new MOS and they will not only have to go back to school for training in that MOS but they won't be able to do their current job any more. If the hearing loss is more severe, they may be medboarded instead. The exact numbers of acceptable hearing are probably not of interest to you but suffice it to say it's up to you whether the soldier's hearing is bad enough to warrant a discharge. I will say that soldiers being slightly hard of hearing isn't unheard of and it's also not unheard of for soldiers to be able to pass the hearing test but still have poor hearing in the field.

Limb: if the limb is amputated or otherwise non functional, it is grounds for a medboard. However, some soldiers have successfully been able to return to active duty with missing parts, although the vast majority of these numbers are those who've lost hands/fingers. Whole arms, toe, foot, and below-the-knee amputees are much less likely to return to active duty, although it's not impossible. IOW unlikely but up to you. Other: unless the wound or a mental illness would otherwise disable the soldier, there would be no medboard.

tl;dr: do you WANT it to be enough to get them discharged??  Also read this post about aftereffects of being medboarded via combat wounds.

I'm writing a fantasy/sci-fi story and I have to make up ranks. How do you suggest I start?/I have a soldier whose duties include X, Y, and Z. What rank would he be? Read these posts about ranks and if your question still isn’t answered then send a more detailed post explaining what you need. I will not help you come up with imaginary ranks. Enlisted Ranks Officer Ranks Rank Purpose Multiple branches working together What would a soldier with PTSD act like? You should consider reading @scriptshrink‘s post on PTSD. It’s a clinical assessment but it contains valuable information I consider nigh essential for writing PTSD characters. Other than that, I don’t have PTSD, (or at least PTSD associated with combat) so I don’t feel entirely right answering this question. I can tell you with some confidence that while their medical needs would be met by the army as far as medication goes and officially mental health is considered a priority, unofficially the military’s stance on mental illness is “you’re fucking weak.” How long are soldiers in combat? Generally? They aren’t often even IN combat, at least not in the current war. It’s absolutely a falsehood that most soldiers will see combat. Having said that, a firefight might last a few seconds to a few days, although with our current enemies I’d lean more towards seconds/minutes. Our biggest concern atm is actually IEDs.  What are the fraternization rules regarding soldiers/is fraternization really that strict? Officially you can read about this here An expanded-upon answer can be found here. Information about holiday events here. Fraternization across branches here. Short answer yes, the army does tend to take fraternization that seriously, but as with most rules it’s often dependent on the chain of command when it comes to just HOW seriously they take it. There might be demotions, article 15s, verbal and written counselling, changes of station, and there might be, you know...nothing. Personally I think the rules were a lot more strict when I was at home than when I was deployed. During deployment I think people can get away with pretty much anything because in a lot of cases it’d be significantly more detrimental to the unit if they punish the soldier than if they just let it go on until it becomes a problem.  Are women really called “females” in military environments? Yes, as are men called “males.” Calling female service members ladies, women, or girls is considered rude/derogatory. The only exception is female officers, who are called “ladies” as male officers are called “gentlemen.” It’s also now unacceptable in the military to disparage troops by using “girls/ladies/women” as insults. How much money does _____ make? The answer depends not only on the soldier’s rank but also their marital status, deployment status, and their Time in Service (TiS). You can read a good article about it here, but you can always just google “this year’s military pay chart” and something basic will come up. Be sure to take into account whether they have kids or take care of a parent! Where do soldiers get medical care? We normally get seen at the TMC, or Troop Medical Clinic. It can be as small as a trailer or as big as a multi-story hospital. If more intense care is needed, we might be sent to an actual hospital. But soldiers can also just get medical care at any location that offers medical care, whether civilian hospitals or clinics. They won’t be expected to foot the bill as long as they present proof that they’re active duty. Your leadership should be informed if you use civilian health care and if you acquire any medicine from them, and this is considered a sort of “no other option” choice so it shouldn’t be done willy-nilly. Does not (typically) apply to dental or mental health.

What are the most common injuries soldiers face? In combat we most frequently see extremity injuries, (52% of all injuries) and usually from explosives (75%). TBIs are also a common problem. When a soldier is hurt in combat we usually use the word “wounded” over the word “injured.” For the general army, I’d probably say sprained/twisted ankles. In most of the TMCs I went to, you don’t even get examined if you just walk in and say “I twisted my ankle.” They’d just throw you some ACE bandages, some ibuprofen, and the recommendation to ice it. It’s just such a mundane and boring injury, but it’s woefully common not only because of our level of physical exertion, but because the army won’t let you keep off your feet and you’ll be forced to keep working on that bad ankle so that you’ll continue to have problems with it forever.

What kinds of medical conditions disqualify you from service? I’ve gone into more depth/information about it here, but basically any chronic illness will be scrutinized by the military before you join. Mental illness included. If you’ve had bronchitis before, or an invasive surgery, (especially one involving pins or other foreign entities) that might be a DQ. Most allergies are a DQ, although it’s possible to get a waiver for less severe ones. IBS, diabetes, anemia and other similar chronic illnesses are an auto DQ. Even acid reflux is taken into account.  If you develop a chronic illness while enlisted, depending on the severity and how manageable it is, you might be permitted to stay in or you might be medboarded. There are active duty service members with diabetes for example, but if it becomes too much for the army/you to handle, separation might be initiated. So as is so often the case, if you want your soldier to develop a chronic illness, you’ll have to decide just how manageable the illness is. The army will allot time for medical care and give any necessary medication to the soldier.

What is the proper way to capitalize ranks and branches of service?

If you’re listing the rank itself, it’s not capitalized. If you’re using the rank as a title, it is capitalized. ”As the colonel trailed off, the sergeant left without saying a word.” ”As Colonel Vaughn trailed off, Sergeant Torres left without saying a word.” Similarly, if you’re directly saying “the U.S. Army,” it’s capitalized, but if you just say “the army,” it’s not. This is as far as grammar is concerned. As far as the inner workings of the actual military are concerned, these words are often capitalized regardless of their actual practical application. So while I recommend you write the story with the above rules, anything written by a service member will probably vary.

Didn’t you used to be part of the Script Family/are you still scriptsoldier?

Yes! I left Script Family due to my inability to keep this blog on topic, so I’m no longer affiliated, though I have left Medic’s credit up on my blog since I did start this blog because of her hard work and informative posts! I am not shy about sharing my political opinions on this blog, namely because I feel that the military is inherently political due to its chain of command ending directly with the president of the united states. 

What kind of opinions?

I am a leftist and an anarcho-communist. I I think it is reprehensible to join the military for any reason. Those are usually enough lol but there’s more!

Well then, why did you join the army?

Fair, no excuses. But for for context, I was a poor gay loner welfare kid from an abusive home and was targeted by military recruiters who hung around my high school from freshman year until after I graduated. I was convinced that I had no other options and that I would never make it otherwise. I did four years and got out as soon as I could. 

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That’s all for now! I’ve probably forgotten at least one common question, so do check back now and then to see if I’ve updated the post. Please feel free to ask me any questions that aren’t covered by this post, or to ask for clarifications on things brought up in this post! -Kingsley

I no longer run a Patreon, but if you’ve found my blog helpful, consider buying me a coffee? 

[thatcookingfat]

Extreme Makeover: Dizzy Edition!

So we left Dizzy and Dotty about to embark on an adventure. Which is a diplomatic way of saying we were to battle bureaucracy, encounter homelessness and discover what a complete ass the law could be!

(Dizzy has asked that I keep real names out of the blog, she’s happy being ‘Dizzy’ or ‘Dotty’s mum’, but doesn’t trust this internet thingy and wants to remain incognito!) 

The first night of our epic journey was spent at Mum’s friend's flat!   I was thrilled, this was going to be just like a Blyton blockbuster!  In reality, I should have realised that the smell I woke up to the following morning would sum up the experience! Anyone who has ‘experienced’ the aromatic. ammonia ridden, ambiance of a baby’s morning nappy can never ‘unsmell’ the eye watering, gut wrenching stench!  

Excited that I wasn’t going to school for the foreseeable future, it was like the summer holidays, but just for me!  All my friends would be in assembly by now, I was just getting up! I was going to be spending the next few days, weeks, could even be forever playing with this baby and school was done!  And to top it all, Mum and I were going into town (which usually meant, Mum’s gonna buy me something) Haha, it was like Blackpool all over again, the reality was a far throw from the dream!

The trip into ‘town’ turned into a day of drudgery sat in ‘The Council House’ and then ‘Social Security’. I had never experienced boredom like it and bored kids make bratty kids! We then had to walk, what felt like a million miles, in gale force winds, driving rain and sheer misery.  And just to top it off, we arrived at a guest house that made flea pits look like a 5 star hotel, even the cockroaches were leaving! We had one single bed and one blanket for the two of us! Mum, back then was ‘wholesome’ shall we say? A size 18 lady and a child ain’t meant to sleep together in a 3 ft bet. So, huddled, sorry superglued together, scared to move in case the blanket moved and the arctic air blasted away any hint of heat, we spent the first night of our ‘adventure’.

Waking up the following morning, I discovered mum was already up.  She didn’t have to get dressed, all we had were the clothes we stood in! And whoop whoop, I didn’t have to clean my teeth, ... we didn’t even own a toothbrush! Well, I say mum was ‘up’, i discovered years later that she hadn’t slept! Once I had drifted off, she had gotten up.  Without her body mass in the bed, she had been able to tuck the blanket in, ensuring I was warm. She then sat in the single chair in the room, leaning over onto the desk and had managed minute naps that were punctuated with gnawing cold. Ain’t nothing like a Mother’s love for her young!

Tantrum number one came when I realised that this guest house ‘didn’t do breakfast’ I was STARVING. Tantrum number two followed when I discovered it was going to be another day at the council house and social security. And I finally pushed mum to breaking point when I realised we were going back to the guest house again that night! As an adult, I don’t blame her for the good hiding I got.  She had no money, no home and didn’t know when we eat or sleep again.  The only way she could ensure that I had a bed for the night and food in my stomach was to sit it out at these offices for hours on end and all I could do was ‘spit my dummy out’. It was the only time I saw the feet paddling frantically below the water of this gracious swan!

This daily routine of waking up cold and hungry, battling arctic weather to ‘prove’ we were homeless continued for weeks; because the family ‘home’ was in his name, the council were powerless to force him to allow us into the flat. Mum couldn’t afford a solicitor, hell she couldn’t even afford food for herself, so she grabbed the first offer of Legal Aid assistance she could get! With hindsight, describing her solicitor as “as much use as a chocolate teapot” would he unfair on chocolate teapots! There was so much frantic paddling going on with this graceful swan it was unbelievable.  In a time when the education system was very ‘open plan’ and laissez faire, mum was being threatened with legal action for keeping me away from school! It didn’t matter that she was given a daily allowance to feed us that was only enough for one meal in a cafe (my meal). Nor did it matter that to get me to school would take a four mile walk, each way, as the daily ‘allowance’ was gone on feeding me, there was nothing left for bus fare! A compromise was reached, my cousin was at the same school, so she would bring home work for me, which was passed to Nan & Grandad for me to collect on a Sunday, when Nan insisted we stay for sunday dinner!  I then had a week to finish the work, for her to return to the teachers! Years later, she apologised to me for, “putting me through it,” but she had no choice. If I wasn’t seen to be in the guest house every night then there would be NO assistance, NO daily allowance, basically NO help for us!

The only good night’s sleep I got was on the eve of my 9th birthday. Nan didn’t give Mum a choice, “That wee waine is gonnae wake up on her birthday, with her family” Oh my goodness, that was the BEST birthday present ever! Clean sheets, so many blankets I couldn’t move under the weight and I could take my arms from under the covers without the fear of frostbite! And the luxury continued, bacon and egg sarnies for breakfast (with gallons of tomato sauce), ‘Stovies’ for lunch and a full roast dinner for tea!  I genuinely don’t remember what presents I got, I just remember the heat, comfort and the experience of my first ‘Food Coma’!

I don't remember falling asleep or being carried up to bed, but I do vaguely remember being woken up with a strange man leaning over me! I also remember feeling like an elephant was on my chest and I was hotter than I’d ever felt! It turns out, the strange man was a doctor and hot elephant on my chest was in fact Bronchitis! The next few days were a blur, I just remember waking up coughing, being given this sweet syrup, spoon fed chicken noodle soup or stovies and drifting off into another drug induced slumber! My first experience of ‘Codeine Linctus’ was like “WOW MAN, this is goooooood shit!” 

Whilst I was being spoilt rotten by Nan, mum was back to the daily drudge of the council house and social security! Armed with a note from the doctor, I was given a temporary reprieve, but there was no respite for mum! At least, whilst I was gone, she was allowed the luxury of the single blanket and 3 ft of bed space! Honestly, ‘the ambassador was spoiling us” (Sarcastic? Moi?). She battled on and eventually, with the assistance of the NSPCC and a Probation & Welfare officer, Chapter One of our nightmare ended. We were going home! I was going back to MY bed, MY books, MY toys and MY beloved puss cat, Smokie Charlie! If you haven’t guessed by now, my dreams were nothing like reality, my middle middle name should be JONAH! 

So the first night at ‘home’ began! Dotty ‘Lucky Jonah’ discovered she no longer had her own room! The past few weeks had taught me to be grateful for what I got, I was still silently pissed off though! For a change, I was going to be sharing a room with Mum! At least this time it was double bed and there was an electric blanket! And I was allowed to rescue my Famous Five collection, I would be able to read myself to sleep again!  Haha, Cue Chapter 2 of the Nightmare!

Sitting there, Smokey Charley making up for weeks of being unloved, the awkward silence was broken. Now what do you think a ‘father’s’ first words to his daughter would be? “Sorry?” “I’ve missed you?” or even, “How are you?” ... Go on, have a guess ... .... .... ....

Did you get it? 10/10, gold star and go to the front of the class if you guessed,

“You’re going into care and that cat is being put down!”  

WOW! Please step forward Father of the Century!!!

Mum ‘lost it!’ All size 14 of her (Yup I said 14, not 18) landed on his lap, fists flailing in all directions and language her Scottish relatives would have been proud of, she finally released some of the pent up anger and frustration she’d endured over the past few weeks! I just ran out of the flat in panic! I must have been making a helluva noise as the next door neighbour came rushing out of their door. Although all she heard were loud wails and sobs, she somehow realised there was something wrong and flew into our flat. Feeling safe with another grown up, I followed her in. I have impeccable timing! I saw his fist hit Mum’s jaw and she slid down the door, unconscious! It was his signature move, Mum’s jaw was dislocated AGAIN! The neighbour just picked me up, (I was stood stiff and silent, as if the ‘pause’ button had been pressed) and bundled me into her flat.I will be honest, I don’t remember what happened next, my next recollection is waking up in Mum’s bed, with all the lights on and an almighty row going on ... for a change! He’d dragged her out of hed and was going for round 2! My high pitched screams must have halted him, the next thing I remember was being cuddled up to Mum, it was dark and the only noise was the involuntary sobs that continued long after my tears had dried.

Not surprisingly, I didn’t return to school the next day, as had been planned! That evening, Round 3 began! Apparently Mum had stolen his wallet!. Unfortunately for him, his luck had run out! As I had failed to return to school as agreed, the authorities had been called! We were unaware at the time, but I had been put on the ‘At Risk Register’! And, as I ran out of the flat in fear again, who should be walking up the stairs but the Probation & Welfare and the NSPCC officers! Demanding the police were called, for the theft of his wallet, he couldn’t understand that his raised fist to Mum was wrong! When they asked him where he last saw his wallet, he nonchalantly replied, “In the freezer, where I left it!” Yes, dear reader, I said the FREEZER!! 

I’m not sure if it was because they HAD to or out of sheer curiosity, but they emptied the freezer! Loe and behold, there was the wallet, wrapped in a plastic bag and hidden in a bag of frozen peas!! Stop rubbing your eyes ... you DID read, the wallet was in the FREEZER, wrapped in a plastic bag, hidden in a bag of frozen peas! You couldn’t make it up, could you!

He was given two options, leave the flat for the evening or spend it in the cells! He tried to negotiate a third option, Mum leave and I go into care! Oh this ‘man’ was a ‘real catch’, wasn’t he? Now the Probation and Welfare Officer was his nemesis, a woman AND she wasn’t even considering option 3! He threw a tantrum that even a two year old would have been proud of! Clearly a mother, she knew the best thing to do was ignore the tantrum! Eventually, he was able to comprehend, that this woman was ‘not for turning’ and he left the flat. Mum was told to call the police if he returned that evening, and I was going to be driven to school the next day!

Good to her word, I WAS driven to school the next day and so was mum! I was greeted like a long lost relative by my friends and I experienced something new! For the first time, I didn’t understand ‘the work’! I was used to sitting at the Top Table, diligently getting on with my work. That day I was STILL on the Top Table, but I was lost!  Our table had always been competitive, to finish first was more important than getting the answers right! I set myself up for ridicule, because I regularly finished first AND got the answer right! And, as any parent knows, kids can smell weakness from a mile away! The hunters were enjoying circling and toying with their prey! Already raw with emotion from the last few weeks, I experienced another ‘first’ ... RAGE! I ‘flipped out’ It was MY turn to release some frustration and anger! I was picked up by my ‘giant’ of a teacher and taken into the reception area and he just held me tight! As much as I tried to move, he had me in a death grip! The angry tears merged into sobs, loud, heartfelt sobs! I couldn’t stop, the floodgates had opened and there was no holding back the tide!

I was unaware that Mum and ‘The Officer’ had been in the Headmistresses’ Office discussing the ‘situation’ and, on hearing my meltdown, had come rushing out! My teacher, apparently, put a finger to his lips to silence mum, as I struggled with my emotions. The sobs silenced and I was back to the involuntary sighs that a body does after a ‘good cry’! Apparently I started snoring, yup I had cried myself to sleep! Needless to say, the Top Table left me alone after that.  I worked so hard to catch up and was soon finishing first, with the right answer again!  OH YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, Normal working had been resumed! (sorry, it’s a term I’m used to, from my railway days, basically everything was returning to normal, with any disruption improving)

At the end of the last post I explained that I had a choice of going with Mum, or going to my Aunt’s across the road from the school. My Aunt, HIS sister and guess where he went to live ... Yup, you got it, honestly I’m not making it up! It was amazing how often he was, ‘just walking down the road’ at hometime. Soon,I was leaving school via the office again, being escorted home by my cousin (from Mum’s side of the family) to avoid confrontation. Monday’s were always a good day for me.  I only did ‘half a day’! My Probation and Welfare Officer, (I’m going to call her ‘Hannah’ from now on, it’s quicker to type) would pick me up for ‘lunch’.  We would go to a local cafe and have tea and cake! OMG, I was soooooo grown up! It was her way of ‘softening me up’ to open up.  it worked for a couple of meetings, only I soon realised that the quicker we stopped talking, the quicker I was taken home, and there’s nothing like being at home when you’re classmates aren’t!  I was authorised to ‘Wag It’

It must have been such a scary time for Mum.  She’d swapped a bossy dad for a bastard, so she’d never been in control of her own life!  She’d believed for as long as she could remember that she was stupid, useless and a lost cause! And it took her LONG time to discover that she was a very strong and clever lady. OK, so she couldn’t read or write, but she’d had a more valuable education! She had graduated with Honours for the School of Hard Knocks, completed her Masters at the University of Life and she was a Doctor of Resilience! Mum was now a very ‘svelte’  size 12, she’d discovered make up and, when she could scrape the money together, she would treat herself to a trip to the charity shop for new clothes. A very talented, self taught, seamstress, she could turn a potato sack into an evening gown. So whatever she bought, bore little resemblance to the outfit she would wear.

Things seemed to be calming down, I was back to being ‘Top of The Class’ at school, thanks to my Minder Cousin there were no more ‘accidental’ meetings and Mum & I settled into a new routine. Money was tight, pocket money even scarcer, but there was peace, something I had learned to cherish! You’ve probably guessed that it wasn’t going to last, whereas I had been lured into a false sense of security, ever the optimist!!! To begin with I was unaware of a ‘visitor’ at the front door.  But having the living door closed on me and told not to open it, I became inquisitive, I was learning Mum’s favourite childhood word, “WHY?”

Like many flats, there were two exits from the kitchen, on which was next to the front door, the other accessed from the ‘other’ living room door that led to the bedrooms.  So I learned to sneak out the ‘other’ living room door, silently open the second door to the kitchen, and eavesdrop! I couldn’t hear much of what was being said, but I knew the voice, it was the voice that told me I was going into care and that my cat was going to killed!  He was back! Mum’s told me a lot more since I learned to ‘Adult’ and apparently he kept coming back in the hope Mum would forgive him! Like many of us, he could see the ‘Ugly Duckling’ transformation happening before our very eyes! What we couldn’t see was the new invisible ‘lodger’ The one that told her she was still fat, she was ugly, the one that taught her that the only control she had in her life, was the control she had over her eating; her new best friend Anorexia. And her, soon to be, ex-husband found himself in a position he was alien to, he was powerless ... and a powerless abuser is a dangerous abuser!

Next time, more about Dizzy and her transformation. How ‘He’ managed to turn my thinking around and how we all coped with a HUGE change. Enter stage left, ‘MR RIGHT.’ The man, that no matter how much I pushed him away, pulled me closer. The man, who’s life I made hell. The man that after a long hard battle, finally wore me down.  The man I am proud to call my Dad, my boys’ Grandad, the Man that showed me what a REAL Dad was! ... Call the plumber, the eyes have sprung another leak!

Until next time, Dotty x

[astralazuli]

Life Update

Hey guys, sorry I’ve mia lately, I just haven’t had the energy to create content or even set things up for the queue because life has been so fucking insane. The last six weeks, summarized:

Called things off with Dudepal because he informed me we could never have a real relationship because of a feud he got into with my roommate/best friend. 

Realized immediately afterwards that he was fucking nuts & paranoid & had severe anger issues & I was better off without him.

Started cosmetology school! This is a good thing! I’m actually really fucking good at it! Yay!

The last three things happened over the same three day time span. Also in that time:

I got the fucking death plague & was legit sick for three weeks straight. Missed a ton of work, one day of school, had to get a ride home from work from one of my managers at one point because I was too sick to drive. Eventually went to urgent care & discovered that I had strep throat, bronchitis, & damn nearly had infections in both of my ears. Took a stupid number of pills & now am much better.

Rehomed my kitten to live with my parents because she was driving literally everyone in my household insane & we just couldn’t handle her. She’s doing a lot better now there & my parents love her.

Found out that the government thinks I’m scamming them because I’ve been to four schools in as many years.

Found out that I owe my last school $1500 because I failed my classes & my financial aid was taken away.

Spent six weeks trying to get my student card so that I can go to Cosmoprof & buy things I need for class.(Did eventually get it two days ago.)

Adopted the cutest fucking fluffy orange cat with three legs & giant paws. Her name is Chrysanthemum but I call her Thea for short. (That’s totally a valid nickname, shut up.)

The toilet in my apartment overflowed, busted something internally, & then spent like five days dripping water down into my kitchen cabinets. It took the guys FOREVER to come fix the toilet.

Found out Thea is FeLV positive, meaning that she can’t be around other cats because it’s so super easily transmitted. My roommate has cats.

Was told by some guy pinning a notice to my door that they were coming to treat for roaches since we told them we have roaches??? We did no such thing???

Anyway, roommate & I had to clean the whole fucking house for these roach dudes because otherwise we’d get hit with a $300 fine. 

Roach dudes came while I was at work & my roommate’s boyfriend told them not to come in because she was have a nervous breakdown. 

Found Thea might actually not be FeLV positive & that she needs more tests to know for sure.

Also discovered her special food is prescription only which I was not told & then had to figure out how to get her more food while she’s running out of the food the humane society gave me.

Missed the dudes who were supposed to inspect the cabinets to get them fixed.

Roommate got checked into the hospital for an unknown amount of time because of her breakdown.

Found out she didn’t pay her portion of rent before getting checked in so we might get a late fee if she doesn’t get out in time.

Fought with the property manager about late fees, rescheduling various visits, & trying not to get charged a fee for sending the roach guys away.

Lost my credit card. Thankfully there are no weird charges on it from before I froze it. 

By some miracle, managed to pick up an iPhone X during my shift yesterday & have been doing nothing but taking portrait mode photos since. This is like. The one damn thing that’s gone right this month.