#I'm grateful that it isn't bad enough i need to go to a doctor to get a prednisone taper and pray it actually works

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, hospitals, food mentioned, feeling sick/throwing up mentioned

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE -> COMFORT ME (partially written, wc: 535)

That... isn't Soobin.

None other than Lee Minho is sitting on a waiting room bench to greet you with a soft smile and a paper bag held tightly in his arms. He sets it down next to him and stands, letting you come to him. There are fresh tears cascading down your face as you practically throw yourself into his open arms, one of his hands smoothing your hair. Just the feeling of him holding you is enough to break you completely, barely able to keep yourself standing up.

"Shh," Minho guides you to sit on the peeling leather bench. "Breathe."

"She's awake," you gasp into his shoulder, still holding onto him tightly. "She's awake."

After a long time, you're able to peel yourself away from his now wet t-shirt and look up at him with wet eyes. His own glance between yours and you don't notice the way his heartbeat thumps louder, or the way his breathing picks up when you break into a smile. Minho brings his hand up to wipe your tears away and you can't help but lean into his palm, closing your eyes with a sigh. Against better judgement, Minho leans in and places a kiss on each of your eyelids, lips so soft you barely feel it. When your eyes flutter open, he can't look at you.

"She's doing better then?" Minho clears his throat, removing his hand from your face and shifting slightly away; you try not to be hurt by this.

"Yeah. The doctors say she should recover pretty quickly now and can go home by the end of the week hopefully." You eye the paper bag still sitting next to him. "What's that?"

"Oh!" He perks up, passing the bag over to you. "I almost forgot."

He watches you open it with a smile on his face, your own features mimicking his as you peer inside. It doesn't take long for you to scarf down the croissant, offering Minho a bite, but he shakes his head and delights in watching you savour it. This is the first moment you've had since you came down where you've just enjoyed something, not having the worry of whether your sister will still be alive when you walk into her room at the front of your mind.

"How have you been?" Minho asks once you're done eating, taking a sip of the guava juice.

"Really terrible?" You shrug. "It's like, there's this guilt eating away at me constantly for multiple reasons, and I haven't been able to cry until today. Instead, it's just been this feeling in my stomach and in my chest, all heavy and foreboding. My head's been killing me and my mom's been killing me and my sister could have been killed and I just-" Taking a deep breath, you debate your admission. "...I can't stop thinking of him, Minho."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," his voice is quiet, one hand sliding over your knee in an act of comfort. "Why don't we get you home? Have the hospital call when you can see her?"

"I'd like that," you sigh, sliding your free hand over his. "I'd like that a lot."

-

notes -> we r getting closer and closer to y/n revealing what happened to her dad... maybe minho can get it out of her? speaking of minho, bro finally left his ex for good! is this really the start of minyn (minion, if u will), or will there be more obstacles in the form of people to keep them apart? oh, and i'm thinking i may close the taglist soon? idk yet !

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @stayatinykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @catchingskzzzs @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[plushyvi]

"i need a doctor!"

game: fallout 4

character: paladin danse, arthur maxson

summary: coming back from a mission hurt, and you are determined to fix them up.

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, reader isn't mentioned to be the sole survivor, but can be read as such. injured characters have to reveal some skin (top of uniform taken off)

paladin danse

"proctor ingram, i'd like to speak to the knight that was in charge of overseeing paladin danse's armour before our mission today." you say as you cross arms over your chest. you stood there with an annoyed expression. with danse behind you, standing tall and bulky, it would usually seem like he was protecting you. yet he held this awkward (slightly embarrassed) look on his face.

usually he'd be the one telling off the knight responsible, but you had taken it upon yourself. you looked so upset for him and his wellbeing. danse didn't even think he had to do anything.

proctor ingram took her eyes off of her clipboard, glancing at you from the height of her power armour. she glanced between both you and danse, taking only one look to understand what was going on.

"hello, y/n. what happened? did something go wrong with it?" she inquires.

"it shut down midway through our battle against super mutants, "you explain as you jut a thumb behind you to danse, "i had to call a vertibird for cover so i could rewire everything and get him out of it."

"you're kidding," proctor ingram widens her eyes. she blinks at the two of you. "my god, i apologise, paladin danse. allow me to personally look over your power armour. i'll bring the knight to you, knight-captain y/n."

"thank you. i'll get someone to haul it in from the loading bay," you sigh out. letting her walk away and do what she needed to, you lean against the wall to wait as danse, in his uniform, looks away. "i won't tell them off harshly; i just want to tell them what i fixed and what was wrong."

"i should've done a test run before taking it out for a spin," danse says, rubbing his exposed neck, "i put you in danger."

you stare at him, furrowed brows. scanning him, you could see various cuts and bruises forming around his face and through his uniform. he was in the middle of the battlefield, about to get swarmed. luckily, you had thrown the smoke signal in front of him, covering danse from view. you had to shoot as many bullets as you could in order to hold them back before the vertibird arrived and you could work on getting danse out.

"you were in more danger," you huff out and shake your head, "look at you, danse. after i talk to this knight, i'll help you, okay? you can't patch yourself up like that."

"i... you don't..." he begins, catching your stare, "i'm fine."

you roll your eyes a little at that. danse only frowns, facing the floor. he listens as you (lightly) reprimand the lower ranking knight. he should be the one to do so, but you were so angry on the field that he would feel bad for the knight if they faced both danse and you telling them off.

they were extremely apologetic, telling danse that it was careless of them and they will double check next time. you use your own armour, parked in bay 3, to explain what you had to do to get him out and what you saw was wrong. the knight is grateful you were kind enough to do so.

danse sits in at your desk, facing you as you open the medical supply box attached to your wall.

"you're going to need to take off your shirt," you say, facing away from him, "is that okay?"

"oh, yeah, it's fine." he replies, beginning to pull up his shirt.

you try not to stare at him, despite danse being so nice to look at. he awkwardly laid his shirt on your bed. you take out something to wipe his wounds with. carefully dabbing on some cleansing alcohol, you begin wiping away the dried blood. he winces a little at the stinging, but ultimately settles in. your hand rests on his shoulder as you stand in front of him.

you felt bad; he always relied on his power armour to help him fighting his battles, and in one of the times where it mattered the most, it failed him.

"i'm sorry, danse. i never thought i would ever see your power armour malfunction." you huff, discarding a red tissue into the bin.

"it's fine, y/n," he replies, shaking his head, "you got me out just in time too. i would've been blown up if it weren't for you.”

you were lucky enough to know a good way around power armour. after tinkering with your own for as long as you’ve had it, you were able to undo the latches. you had checked the fusion core too — halfway full.

“yeah, maybe i should ask elder maxson for a raise for saving your ass yet again,” you joke. danse lets out a small chuckle. “how does ‘paladin y/n’ sound to you?”

“sounds fitting, but you wouldn’t be under my guidance anymore,” he claims, watching as you move on to his other arm, “you would have your own team.”

“so much work. i might as well just stay by your side, right?” you say as you glance at danse.

he blinks at your outward flirting before he begins to turn pink. “i, uh, i wouldn’t… oppose to you staying within my team. i am your sponsor, after all.”

“right, my ‘sponsor’,” you chuckle, grabbing another wipe, “just face me, okay?”

he nods, allowing you to clean the cuts on his face. he was not shot, but some scratches were the result of you hastily pulling him out if the armour and it being stuck in an awkward position to get out of. but your tender caressing made him feel so much better.

you were so careful with him. one time, he couldn’t find his helmet, so you gave him yours to use. he complained, saying that you needed one too, but you were only concerned with him.

such a kind soul. it was quite rare in the commonwealth now.

“careful, big guy,” you say. danse begins blinking open his eyes at you. a smile dawns your lips. might fall asleep on my bed. what would maxson think?”

“i’m sorry, i’m… i think i’m tired.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. his hair was tousled about, unable to keep tidy.

you fix a bandage on his nose. he was still so handsome, something you would tell him from time to time. it always managed to fluster the crap out of him too.

“it’s okay, i’m finished now, danse,” you say as you pack away all your supplies. danse thanks you. “will you make it back to your room alright?”

“yes, knight, i will.”

you stare at him as he winces to grab his shirt on your bed. it was obvious that he was lying. he seemed to be in more pain than he let on. you watch as he attempts to put it on, but him stretching his chest out helps you to observe the large bruises on his skin. a sigh leaves your lips.

“it’s okay, paladin. you can rest here for a few hours,” you tell him. you place a hand on his shoulder. “i won’t tell anyone, only if they ask.”

“that would be extremely—”

“i have to attend a briefing anyway, danse,” you say, gently pushing him to lay down on your bed. lucky you were given your own quarters, or else this would be even worse for the superior officer. "you'll be fine. i'll tell maxson you're still fixing yourself up."

he lays back on your bed, pillow beneath his head. his eyes follow yours and see how you smile at him gently. your kindness knows no bounds. and your warmth helps soothe him. danse melts into your bed.

"i... fine, i will stay for a few hours, but that's it," danse meekly replies. you have a winning smile on your face whilst you lean over him. he can feel his face warming up with how you look at him. the pink hue brushes along his cheeks and his ears. "thank you again, y/n."

"atta' boy, danse." you chuckle. your fingers are gently going through his hair as you sit beside him on the bed. he immediately gulps, pressed lips together and unable to take his eyes off of your face. "be good. call me if you need me, you have my radio frequency if you need it."

"will do," he hums as he gently holds your hand in his. his warmth fell into yours invitingly. "don't leave anything out in the debriefing, alright?"

"even the part before we got ambushed where you told me you missed so much on my last mission with captain kells?"

"you may leave that part out, knight."

you let out a short laugh at that as you show him a hearty smile.

"okay, paladin, sir." you hum out sweetly. you lean down slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "i will see soon, danse. rest up."

he watches you as you leave him alone in your room and on your comfortable bed. he thinks about you, as he always does, and how you caress his wounds. you were so caring, too kind for this world. and he cherished every moment with you.

his hand rests on his forehead as he sighs. you were so sweet.

arthur maxson

"fuck—"

"shh."

"do not shush me, knight."

"you're being a baby, elder. stop pulling away."

he leans against his desk in his quarters, hands bracing against the steel as you stand in between his legs, holding his chin in your hand. blood dripped down his nose bridge from his recent run in with a mirelurk queen on a recon mission. one of the only times he was off the prydwen, and it resulted in you coming to his rescue after hearing of his absence from the ship.

you were in the middle of another endeavour before danse reached out to you through your radio frequency to inform you that a scribe got word of maxson's situation. he sent you as you were closer and he was on his way.

with no power armour, you managed to save the leader as soon as you can. but maxson was already plenty wrecked by the time you got there. once back on the prydwen, you dragged maxson by the hook of his shirt to his room to get him fixed. the elder muttered out broken orders, telling you to let him go and stop, but he was utterly embarrassed. his soldiers watched as a mere knight quite literally made him follow after.

"this is why you aren't a medic," maxson hisses out at you as he leans away. you deadpan and shake your head as you drop the bloodied tissue into the bin beside you. "i can do this myself, knight. i don’t require your assistance for this."

"you said the exact same thing back in the commonwealth," you huff out at him. the elder was so prideful. he looked away when you stared at him. "i know what i'm doing, maxson, you just need to be a big boy for me. just for a few minutes, okay?"

his ears glow red before he wipes his face. when he drops his hand, you resume your work. maxson's furrowed brows don't drop; he feels vulnerable under your touch with how warm it was. you hold his face again to wipe away the rest of the blood that covered his face. his face is fixed in an angry expression as you tried to clean up his face.

"well you won't need stitches," you explain. you open the medkit next to him and grab some bandages. you unwrap a bandaid to place on his nose bridge. "and you're lucky it isn't broken. give me your hand."

he does so, resting his knuckles in your palm. you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"i cannot believe you tried to use a knife against a mirelurk queen, arthur," you scowl at him. he half-lids his eyes and looks at you. "it's like you wanted me to come and save you."

"despite you saving me, i am still your superior. do not call me 'arthur'." he orders you. he pulls his hand away after you've bandaged it.

you deadpan.

"whatever you say, elder maxson." you say spitefully.

you continue to help him in silence, which makes maxson only more annoyed. you looked like it was now a chore to help him. he could have you do the recon mission that he failed, or literally anything else, but here you were, tending to his wounds.

"speak what's on your mind." he speaks up once noticing your expression.

"i don't have anything to say, sir." you mumble back to him. you moved to the slices on his shoulder.

he was quite confused (and flustered) when you told him to take off his shirt upon entering his room. you had to explain that you needed to see his wounds, which made him rest better.

"it isn't wise to lie to me, knight," he warns you as he tilts his head. you look at him with knitted brows. "just... tell me."

you blink at him before letting out a sigh. you first finish up putting bandages over his cuts and wiping away all the blood that stained his skin.

“you… you don’t know combat like us, maxson,” you exclaim, “and that’s going to get yourself killed. don’t run into missions as trivial as that one. the brotherhood needs you.”

“i can decide for myself, knight,” he responds as you wipe the blood off your hands, “do you forget who gives out orders?”

“you’re always like this,” you scowl. you have your hand on your hip as you glare as him. “elder maxson, with all due respect, i believe that my short time here outweighs your firsthand iq of the commonwealth as of now. i understand that you are finally getting out of there, but what’s the point of getting yourself killed over something so small?”

“that recon mission was not small.” he huffs back.

you stare at him a little before you let out a sigh. you step forward a bit and gently wrap your arms around his waist. he stiffens.

“i don’t wan’t you getting killed out there, arthur,” you say against his nape, “if you’re going on a mission, i want to be informed. i want to come with you.”

he freezes up at your warmth mixing with his and he closes his eyes. a hand rests on your upper back, begging you closer.

“very well then, knight. i will be sure to inform you next time,” maxson says to you with a content smile, “you… must care a lot about me.”

“what a stupid thing to say.” you retort.

he tries not to take it to heart and instead get used to how you tease him. you’ve always been like this, ever since he met you. your character never disappointed him. while you were more casual with him than he’d like you to be around others, he admired you.

“pardon me, i didn’t hear that,” maxson mumbles. he starts pulling away a little to get a look at your face. you’re smiling a little. “care to share with me what is so funny?”

“no, nothing, elder maxson,” you respond to him, “it’s just silly. you’re an elder taking orders from a knight.”

"get out of my room."

"i'm joking, arthur!" you begin to chuckle again. your hands rest on his shoulders to push him back against the desk again. his annoyed face only makes you smile more. "you need to rest now. it's late. you can't be standing there in your office waiting for me to come back every single second."

"i... i do no such thing." he claims.

"mhm," you say with a raised brow. you see his begin to turn pink before you tilt your head. "knight lucia told me that scribes often visit you throughout the day to give you word on my whereabouts."

"i do so for many people," he retorts as he crosses his arms over his chest. he puffs it out, attempting to look tougher. but you don't waver. "i have to keep a close eye on you, especially — you are always running amuck in the commonwealth. it is bad for the brotherhood to have hoodlums doing such things."

"i'm flattered that you hold me above the rest of the knights," you say to him as you place a hand over your chest in mock sincerity. he rolls his eyes at you, but can't stop the slight smile on his face. "i suppose i should make sure i'm on my best behaviour for you, then, sir."

"good," is all he says back to you. he stares at your face and how it falls slightly at his response. it elicits a slightly chuckle from him before he reaches out and holds your hand. "thank you, knight. you did a satisfactory job, considering your lack of proper medical training."

you stand up straight and smile at him softly. you were glad that you were able to get closer to him, despite him pulling away every so often. it seemed now that he was warming up to you.

"you're welcome, arthur," you mumble out quietly. leaning forward, you press a chaste kiss against his scarred cheek. he doesn't pull away this time at your affection. rather, he moves his neck closer to you for a better angle. you hold his other cheek in your other hand, letting your fingers brush against his warm skin. "get some rest, okay? i'll finish off your mission for you."

"alright," maxson says with a nod of his head. you step away from him before you grab your weapons you left on his desk. you pick up your pistol and combat knife to shove it in it's cover. meanwhile, maxson stretches his arms and watches you. "be careful out there, soldier."

"will do, elder maxson." you flash him a sweet smile before heading out of his room. he notices how loudly you exit, as if you wanted everyone to know that you were with the superior officer, in his room, alone.

he wipes his face with a groan. you were such a handful.

[explicit-tae]

Freak (Mommy Issues)

Jungkook finds a way back into your world - and you let him.

Word Count: 1.260

Warning: yandere themes, angst, smut, dirty talking, mc making MORE bad decisions, phone sex, masturbation (f receiving), mommy kink, baby boy kink, mentioning of sex, cheating, fingering,

@babycandy111 @seokjinkismet @iloverubberduckiez-blog @bloodline1632 @pointofviewyugyeom @yoongixthot @taetaecatboy @ultimatebasura @jlatbh @lilliankoo @btsw1fe @bxcndd @mageprincess7

Mommy,

I miss you. I always pondered what prison would be like and if it was like the movies. I haven't witness any extravagent fights between inmates or a rebellion against the gguards - so I guess it isn't like the movies. 

I hope you're well.

-Jungkook

Mommy, 

How are you? How's the baby coming along? There isn't much to do in here but eat, sleep and work out. I've began to workout all the snacks I eat throughout my time here. I find it theraputic. I also have been reading a lot of books - even the one's about babies. If my calculations are correct, you should be the size of a rutabaga!

Be safe.

-Jungkook

Mommy,

It's week 28! That means the baby is the size of a large eggplant. How is it going? Do you feel sore? Do you still get morning sickness? I've read that you can find out the gender between 18-22 weeks. Have you found out or do you wish to be surprised? 

Take care.

-Jungkook

Mommy, 

I've decided to take up drawing again. I'm sure I have read almost every book in this facility. I have decided to draw you. I could remember each and every detail about your beautiful face. I hope you like it!

Hope all is well.

-Jungkook

Your hands trace the blue ink on the paper that was neatly folded into the envelope. You always thought Jungkook was an amazing artist by the first little doodles he'd do on scrap paper. However, sitting in prison had perfected Jungkook's craft. You're amazed with the amount of detail Jungkook drew onto the paper - all in ink. Did it take him one try or multiple?

You placed the letter and portrait drawing of you in your dresser beneath your clothing - right next to the rest of them. The stack of letters come nearly daily - and you're unsure who delivers them. You've attempted to keep an eye out for someone entering the property, but you never come close to finding out. They always make sure to deliver said letters when Jin is at work - which was all the time.

As the months dragged on and the letters from Jungkook came, you grow to expect them. You were lonely. Jin and you were married but separated. He and you no longer shared a room, and it was difficult speaking with one another outside of the concerns of the baby. He drove you to doctor visits and was present, but outside of that, Jin was always gone. You did not blame him. He has endured enough by your hands and you're only grateful that he has not yet slapped you with divorce papers.

Jungkook's letters became longer, detailing his day-by-day activities. He sent more drawings of you - some of you and him. They were innocent at first - until they were.

Jungkook was a storyteller. In one letter he disclosed that he missed you dearly and the only way he could get the need of you out of his system was to draw them. You're disgusted with yourself for going through pages and pages of pure smut - written and draw. Jungkook had drawn both of you together in bed; his tongue between your legs, your cock in his mouth and, "his favorite" he says, you on top of him.

You're even more disturbed with yourself when you began to touch yourself. You and Jin were probably never going to be sexual again - if so, it would take longer than a few months. You were a horny emotional wreck. 

Your fingers would play with your clit, eyes shut. You would pretend that it was your husband at first - but sadly, that didn't help you. You could only get off thinking about Jungkook - the way his fingers would curve inside of you and fuck you just right. It was tragic that after everything Jungkook had caused you, it is still him that you crave. You would moan his name, voice sultry and low when you plunge your fingers in and out of yourself.

Time and time you would get a new letter - one dirtier than the next - and each time you'd cum to it.

Mommy,

Do you remember how it feels to be with me? Sure, you may hate me now, but just think. Close your eyes and recall the time you would sit on my face. Your pussy was so wet and beautiful and all for me. You would grind on my tongue like a bitch in heat - and I would allow it. You'd go crazy when I shook my head side to side to deeply pleasure you until you're cumming onto my tongue. That was my favorite, Mommy. I was a such a good boy to you. I always made sure you came. Remember that one night we shared during your stay with me? The night you allowed me to fuck you until you were squirting all over the place? I cherish that night, Mommy. That was the first night you called me your baby boy. I wish I could hear your beautiful voice again, Mommy.

I love you.

-Jungkook

You reflect on the written words on the letter. You take several deep breaths before going to grab a separate sheet of paper and a pen. You never wrote Jungkook back and never thought about it until now. Maybe it was the loneliness you felt that has you writing him. While Jin worked his days away - you're positive it's to stay away from you - you remained home to your lonely. Jimin had steered clear from you, as well, only visiting once a month to what you assumed was pity. He pitied you even if he truly deserved to hate you - your actions have caused him to be expelled and without a home and pet.

You hadn't received a letter from Jungkook in a week. It was a long one; so long that you were checking every day for a new letter to not have any. You were jittery and impatient. It was as if you were slowly losing your mind. 

Jimin has come the following day. He sits with you while you watch whatever show on the tv. You speak with him, asking of his days and each answer was bland. You knew of Jimin's life now. Expelled from University and no other will take him in, even if the scandal of him cheating was false. He works full time now and saves for a new apartment while staying with your parents.

Your phone sounds, startling you. It was an unfamiliar number calling and your heart beats. "I'll be back. I have to take this."

Jimin nods without taking his eyes away from the screen. You make your way into your bedroom and sigh deeply, answering the phone. The automated line speaks until suddenly you hear his voice - Jungkook's.

"Hi, Mommy." Jungkook sing-songs, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I got your letter."

You gulp. You sit upon your bed and take a deep breath. "Hi."

You and Jungkook began to speak for as long as he could every day. He asks about your day and the growing baby you were carrying. You would ask your own questions about his prison life and what he planned to do when he was released. 

It felt nice to be able to speak with someone without having the lingering dark cloud above them. It was weird to think that the two people who caused said dark cloud could speak as if nothing has ever happened. It should bother you - but it doesn't.

Whore (Next)

[lia404]

Get to know me better game—2 in 1 because I'm 6 months late

Tagged by: @baratrongirl and @missmewachu

Thanks for being so patient while I was figuring out how Tumblr works again and why I had a blue dot beside "Activity" (as in, notifications about tag games I've been sent 6 months ago. Better late than never 🤦‍♀️) Thankfully the tag games you sent my way are very similar so it won't be hard to do 2 in 1!

Last song I listened to: Chipzel - Courtesy - YouTube

The 1st track of Super Hexagon, composed by Chipzel. Chipzel's music has been a pick-me-up since 201...4 I think? And since I fell back into Super Hexagon around a week ago, the music has also found its way back into my work playlist.

Currently reading: Trick question! There is what I am MEANT to read, and what I am ACTUALLY reading.

What I am MEANT to read is To Shape a Dragon's Breath, by Moniquill Blackgoose, which has absolutely all the elements I need to love a book. The problem is that my brain absolutely refuses moving further than Chapter 1, and I've been stuck for MONTHS. The good news is that when it happens, I usually struggle until the moment my brain finally snaps and I read the whole book in an afternoon. Wait for me, Moniquill Blackgoose, I'll soon be raving about your book.

What I am ACTUALLY reading is... well, it's more re-reading, but I'm going through Happy Hour by Inkflavored and Keep the Light Shining by Clydeside, two Yu-Gi-Oh AUs that have been incredibly healing for me in the past months, for very different reasons. I wanted to re-experience them to see if I could turn them into fanbinding projects (if the authors give me the authorisation of course, but I haven't reached this level of confidence yet, let's give it time.)

Currently watching: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS.

Do you believe me if I tell you that it was an accident? It kinda was though! I wasn't the one who played the first episodes I just kept going afterwards. That said, I have fully adopted Yusaku. I kind of wish he could meet Philip from Kamen Rider W. Things would go so well.

Currently writing: this one is plain cruel, because after a drought spell of almost 2 years, I finally feel like getting back into writing (thank you, current obsession.)

I have 3 WIPs, one PWP because I like a challenge, one backstory of a character that has basically become my OC, and one AU that @wisyhana created and that I'm using as a wonderful sandbox. I am between 2k and 5k into each, nothing is complete, I'm losing my mind. But at least I'm writing again, right?

Spicy/sweet/savoury: Okay yes no it's cruel again and you will not make me pick just one.

If you've followed me these past years you know that I have completely lost my sense of taste between 2020 and 2023. I was lucky enough, and honestly even the specialised doctor said it was a miracle, to have most of it come back to me abruptly in March 2023, after 3 years unable to enjoy a bit of chocolate or a nice gratin. Some tastes are lost forever, but so few compared to what came back that I just can only be very very grateful and very confident in saying SPICY SWEET SAVOURY I'LL TAKE THEM ALL. I LOVE TASTES. ALL OF THEM.

Relationship status: I have been told polyamory looks good on me.

And I am lucky to have the most patient and tolerant lovers ever. EVER. I love them so much and I'm so bad at showing it because I am a mess. There isn't a day where my heart doesn't overflow with gratitude that they are in my life and agree to putting up with my bullshit.

Current obsession: Listen, Mew put it SO ELOQUENTLY I can help but quote:

mentally ill traumatised japanese teenagers and their ancient egyptian guys who hang out in their jewellery all playing card games.

So, yeah, current obsession is Yu-Gi-Oh!, and with it Duel Links, and everything children-card-game-adjacent. I am currently trying to figure out why everyone in this kid's show is so hot and delightfully traumatised. Characters after my own heart, all ready to be projected on and used for cathartic writing purposes. Other obsession is MEW'S FAULT TOO ACTUALLY since it's my newly founded Clan in Flight Rising. Ask me about my dragon Atem.

Favourite colour: I like my colour like my wine—burgundy. (I actually like all sort of shades of purple, violet and red, but I don't know how to list them.)

Tagging: Wow uh who do I know around here who is still active?

@twilightknight17 for sure (although I'm sure you already did it), @wingsonghalo maybe? Uuuh, I think @the-wanderer-of-thoughts and @istadris? You know, considering how inactive I am here, I think it's already a lot, but if you're not in the list and want to do it too, be my guest!

[betweenthings2]

4. "Please wake up" angst prompt would be so perfect

Thank you for the ask!! The prompt list is here if anyone else wants to see it =)

I've written you all something very sad. I fully meant to write a fluff prompt but I listened to "I Always Wanna Die (Sometimes)" and this happened. None of this is medically accurate, but it is sad. Content warnings for overdose and hospitals.

Angst prompt 4- "Please wake up."

The heart monitor makes a steady noise that's already begun to undercut everything in George's head. His thoughts, his fears, his wants, his catastrophizing all come in the same rhythm as Matty's pulse, steady and measured, unchanging. The doctors say that he's stable, that they're optimistic, that Matty should wake up soon, that Matty is lucky things happened as they did.

That's the word they keep using, lucky. George doesn't feel like anyone is particularly lucky. It's not lucky that George started stashing naloxone around their house and in his things when Matty started to get secretive and defensive. It's not lucky that George started waking up every few hours to check on Matty. It's not lucky that George had worried about this enough that he knew what to do. Still, the doctors keep saying lucky and Matty's nurse likes to make comments about 'most addicts' every time she comes into his room and sees George still there, the implication being, of course, that he should leave, that he should give up on Matty.

It makes George bristle--Matty can't be lumped in with 'most' anything. He's entirely individual, entirely himself, and she kind of spits the word 'addicts' out like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, like she thinks Matty is lesser for his struggles. Matty isn't lesser. Matty is more than anyone George has ever known and he would complain about the nurse, but it's about four in the morning and he's not going anywhere before Matty wakes up because giving up has never once crossed his mind as being a viable option. You don't give up on the people you love, not when you love them like George loves Matty. Instead, he just takes Matty's hand and holds in between his own, glaring every time the nurse tries to make a comment.

Matty looks lifeless like this, empty. The white sheets tucked around his body make him look pale and generally unwell. In all honest, he is unwell, but it's unsettling. This person laying in a bed in front of George isn't his Matty. Matty's features are there--the familiar line of his jaw, his tattoos, his chipped nail polish, the little scar on his left hand that has been there as long as George has known him, the dark curls that he takes so much care with. He's Matty, but the spark that makes him Matty isn't there and George would think him dead.

Time continues to pass and the heart monitor continues to beep steadily. The sky out the window is slowly beginning to lighten when a different nurse comes in. She offers George a kind smile and a hushed good morning before she takes Matty's vitals and adjusts his IV, then leaves, saying the same thing that everyone has said--that Matty should wake up soon. George wishes Matty would prove them right.

To be fair, Matty likes to prove people wrong, and he delights in being right, even if it's unlikely. Maybe he's just being stubborn now. The thought makes George laugh at how absurd it is. It sounds harsh and grating in the near silent room and he has to choke back a sob lest he actually break down. This isn't how it ends. This can't be how it ends. It can't.

"You have to wake up, Matty," George murmurs. He reaches out and takes Matty's hand, and continues, "I can't do it without you. Please."

Matty doesn't move.

"Please," George repeats. "I know. I know it's hard and I know you're struggling, but, fuck, I need you and I know that's selfish, but I can't do it without you. I don't, I don't get it, I don't get this, but I'm willing to try. I'm willing to listen, to do whatever you need from me, just please," a pause, "please wake up."

Matty doesn't move, doesn't wake, and the steady beep of the heart monitor is the only response George gets.

[dervampireprince]

don't usually share this sort of stuff on here but the reason patreon matters to me so much is stuff like this

6/7 videos this month are demonetised. specifically limited ads, not no ads, but what that means for me is where i would earn $1 on a fully monetised video, i am now earning $0.10 on a limited ads video.

there's no reason they should be demonetised. it's a bot that flags them and yes i can manually file a counterclaim but i'm scared of youtube's reaction and scared of what happens if they double down.

i've even had some videos in the past be monetised, then demonetised after days or weeks. some videos demonetised and then re-monetised without me filing a counter-claim or changing anything, as if youtube realised it's mistake.

my most viewed video is "ASMR | Visiting King Wants Your Hand, Not Your Sisters [M4M] [Romantic]" currently at 95,100~ views (thank you guys so much for that). that's a nice chunk of income right if i'm earning $1-2 dollars per thousand views? well, it would have been. once the video was up and reached 1k views it got 'limited ads' placed on it and stayed that way until random when it was at around 50k views it got re-monetised. i'd changed nothing in the video or description or title, i'd not filed a counter-claim. youtube's bot just somehow realised it's mistake. so, they are admitting they were wrong to demonetise it. that's nice. so do i get the money for the 49k views i should have been paid for? of course not.

anyway this post isn't to 'woe is me' (though youtube's system for flagging is broken and it really doesn't like asmr creators, i've seen other asmr creators talk about videos getting demonetised a lot). i've had videos demonetised before, but never this many in a month. in the past at most it's been maybe half of one month's videos demonetised, never almost all. and january 2024 had 0 videos demonetised. but wow. this month youtube doesn't like me. and i don't know how long this will continue.

so as much as i am upset and frustrated and trying to save all my money to move into a better living situation (you know it's bad when your doctor presses you about why you're having physical health issues due to stress and you let some details slip and they go "oh shit, well there's no point in prescribing you meds when you're getting triggered at home, you need to focus on moving out of there" and i'm like i am i really am but my apartment application got rejected) but uh... sorry what was my point?

oh right. as much as i'm upset and yes this isn't helping with my current situation, i want to say thank you to my patreon members, you guys aren't just giving me some extra little money you are literally allowing me to live. i'm making enough money that i can afford to look at renting places, and i never was able to afford that before making these audios. so regardless of what youtube does, thank you patrons, i could not be any more grateful to you all, and let's hope a landlord accepts one of my applications and i get out of this stinky house soon.

[uniasus]

Whumptober Day 2 - YGO Snippet

So. Um. I thought this would just be a little thing. Maybe 600 words. It's 1800 and will be a full fic! I'll share snippets on appropriate days but don't expect them to be shared in order. If you want a tag to follow, look for #Fever Bright.

-----

"Tristan," Atem sucked his cheek to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. "How bad is Yugi?"

Tristan pulled his shoulders to his ears. "Bad. He hasn't woken the entire time he's been here. His fever isn't breaking, and the spikes are making the doctors worried. He's crossed into dangerous territory twice now."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning," Isis broke in, "His fever rose to a temperature high enough the doctors are probably worried about brain damage."

Atem stopped dead in the hallway. "What?" He hissed. Even though he kept his voice down, the pressure in the air demanded it, it still seemed to echo.

Isis and Tristan exchanged looks. He gestured for her to go ahead.

"Pharaoh," Atem didn't bother correcting her, too eager for an answer, "medicine has progressed since ancient times. I'm not sure you would have learned much during your time with Yugi, but just like too much heat outside the body can cause problems," Atem tried not to think of burns and focused on Isis's face, "too much heat inside the body can cause problems too. In this case, to someone's brain."

Tristan pressed his lips together and Atem knew there was more.

"What have the doctors said?"

Tristan looked toward a door. "Too high a fever, for too long, can cause damage. If it's a really long time, or a really high temperature, it's fatal."

Atem's stomach dropped. "Yugi?" He whispered.

"We don't know. None of his fever spikes have been super long, but since he hasn't woken up they can't do tests. But they're worried about how long he's had the fever. A, uh," he winced, "slow cook method."

Atem turned on Isis. "Is this my fault? If he got sick the day the gods gave me a body-“

“The gods would not do such a thing. Not without telling you. And did you not say they grated you this time specifically to live the life you wanted?”

Atem swallowed. Passing judgment and stepping on the boat to the Field of Reeds, he’d been grated the abilities of the dead – to communicate with all who lived there as equal, including the gods. And they knew very quickly from reading his heart that for all the glory of the garden he wished he wasn’t there. That travelling to the afterlife of the just wasn’t a deserved reward, but another task he needed to do for the sake of others.

It hadn’t been a reward, not to him, and so when asked what would be a better gift for his sacrifices Atem hadn’t even had to say anything. Yugi’s face had flashed in his mind, and then there’s been a bright light that resolved itself into the overhead lights of the Ishtar kitchen.

No. Yugi, time and a life with Yugi, was supposed to be his gods-given paradise. So why?

[snaggletoothedbastard]

in defence of autistic characters

Because apparently people are mad about this.

I've heard the phrase "you're making every single character autistic!" and similar phrases way too many times. Mostly from allistic people who don't understand how headcanons work, and are also scared shitless by the very idea that they might have something in common with an autistic person.

Oh gosh, the horror!

"You're making every single character autistic," said in a negative way, is basically a translation of: "That character can't possibly be autistic because I'm not autistic and I like them!"

Neurotypicals often seem to be under the impression that neurodivergent people are some kind of alien species, and that these two groups have nothing whatsoever in common with each other and therefore can't even have the same feelings towards one single fictional character. They've given us our "representation", the Sheldon Coopers and the Rain Mans, and essentially said, "Here you go, enjoy your seven (7) canonically autistic characters, and leave every other character in the world to us." And then have the gall to act surprised when we're not particularly happy with what we've been given. Sure, Sheldon Cooper and Rain Man may technically count as representation, but that doesn't mean they're good, and it doesn't mean that they're enough. We need more than that.

You can make the exact same argument about queer characters or characters of colour. Marginalised groups are often given the bare minimum of representation and told that they should be grateful for it, as if everyone else in the world is bending over backwards to cater to them.

Surprise! That's not what's happening.

Instead we are supplied with the most boring, clichéd, unlikeable, stereotypical characters with very little personality, who are treated with very little respect by the people who literally created them. Why should we be grateful for that? It shouldn't be surprising, really, that we find ourselves feeling better represented by and more connected to characters who may not be specifically written as autistic but who we can relate to anyway, and have been written with respect, nuance and creativity. Real autistic people aren't as one-dimensional as we are in fiction. We've got personalities, interests, relationships and emotional journeys that are just as complex as yours, and we'd like this complexity to be reflected in the characters that are supposed to be for us. So when we don't get that, we end up being drawn to characters that were made for a more general audience.

One argument that I see frequently used to protest against autistic fans' relationship with these characters is: "it'll make people think they're autistic!"

Wow. People use stories as a means of self-discovery and a way to connect with others. Shocking. Truly shocking.

I have numerous problems with this argument. Firstly, it's concerningly close to being anti self-diagnosis. I hate to go off on a rant but the situation calls for it. Self-diagnosis isn't a bad thing. Often what people mean when they say "self-diagnosis" is "faking". These things are very different, and saying that someone is faking is always a risk because unless you know them personally and are aware of their entire medical history, you cannot be certain about something like this. And accusing every other person of faking a disability just because they don't fit your idea of what that disability should look like is not only extremely presumptuous, but perpetuates stereotypes and misconceptions that can be potentially dangerous.

And issues around self-diagnosis are multitude. Sure, it's not exactly ideal that it exists, but it's reality. People can't always access an official diagnosis; the assessment process is often long and exhausting; an official diagnosis can stop people from immigrating to certain countries and can threaten their ability to get jobs and have children; doctors aren't always correct in their diagnoses anyway, especially if the person they're diagnosing is AFAB and/or a person of colour. And even if someone doesn't give themself exactly the correct label, personally I think it's better to be slightly off the mark and still know how to describe your experiences and what accommodations and support you need, than to have no idea what's going on in your head and not know how to cope with your struggles.

Also, self-diagnosis is much, much more than just seeing a person with the same traits as you and thinking, "they're autistic so I must be too". It involves loads and loads of research. Hell, even the build-up to an official diagnosis involves loads of research, especially if you can't access private healthcare and have to lurk at the bottom of a waiting list for months before you get to talk to a doctor. I did at least two years of research, and I have been both self-diagnosed and professionally diagnosed. The official diagnosis was basically just telling me things I already knew about myself.

It's unlikely that so many people are deciding they're autistic just because they relate to a fictional character that it's a world-wide epidemic that needs to be stopped. Finding people we can identify with is important and helps a lot with self-acceptance. And it's a completely natural thing for people who are discovering their own autistic traits to start noticing them in other people too. So why are we surprised when we see that actually happening? And why are we acting like it's some kind of terrible thing? Do I need to remind you about Abed Nadir? The character who so many autistic people loved and connected with that Dan Harmon realised he was autistic because he based the character on himself? Give me one example where a scenario like this has ended badly. Just one.

In conclusion: you're allowed to have things in common with autistic people. And autistic people are allowed to connect with fictional characters. We're not hurting anyone. It's not the end of the world. Keep your hair on. If you're so offended that we see ourselves in not-explicitly-autistic characters instead of the one-dimensional caricatures we've been told are "for us", give us better representation. But it's not like you have a claim over every character that isn't explicitly autistic. It's not a "this is mine so you can't have it" situation. If you're thinking like that, you belong in a preschool with the rest of the toddlers who haven't learnt how to share things.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Backlogs and IT Issues

Well, if this is the setting for the next two weeks, I'm in deep shit.

Scruffman, our office manager, is on leave for the next two weeks. I had a feeling that things were going to get a little ... problematic. Goblin has a "when the cat's away, the mice will play" mentality and has a habit of chatting in her usual "I Hate Everything" way whenever she gets the change - read: "when Scruffman isn't at his desk". This monopolises the time and attention of everyone in the office, so less work gets done. That's not even counting the whole thing where Temp will dodge all the longer work - with Violet on long-term medical leave, that still leaves me to do the lion's share of it, because Milady tends to take over Scruffman's duties when she's away and so she's busier than usual for the next two weeks (when not sucked into Goblin's Grumble Vortex)

In addition to this, we had some changes to our transcription software recently and it has not been particularly well implemented. Having to tag our typing with our initials is bad enough, but the window on which we have to do so is slow to come up at the best of times, so that's a fair chunk of time wasted. Again, that's under the best of circumstances right now.

Logged in today and the queue was at 375 and climbing. We were backlogged as far back as Saturday (because of course the various doctors and techs are still coming in on the weekends), and all the ones left from Saturday were - you guessed it - the long and complicated bullshit that Temp doesn't want to touch. But yesterday's typing was effectively untouched when I logged in.

The queue when I logged out for the day was approaching 400. Barely anything got typed unless I typed it (except for seeing Milady take one fifteen minute long monstrosity, for which I am very grateful because I got something like three 10+ minute bits of dictation on top of the ones that don't take long to speak but do take long to type because of having to deal with the formatting - it's a thing). Most of the urgent cases got done - but not all; the longer ones of those were left behind as well when I logged out. I just hadn't noticed because I was busy with all the long dictation and the stuff from the more difficult doctors and techs. I barely saw anything taken out of the queue, and when I did, it was in bits and snatches of shorter pieces of work between the longer, complicated stuff. And like I said - not that much of that got done either.

Of course, some of this might have something to do with the transcription software, which was at its worst today. It crashed seven times, and hung for at least five minutes a dozen more times over the course of the day, at least for me. It's possible that people got slowed down because they were having the same problem, but I don't know because no one keeps me updated when Scruffman's not around. I'd bet good money that they didn't try to talk to IT about it and just used it as an excuse to relax and futz about all day, but at least it's sort of an excuse. Ish. Kind of. I mean, I was slowed up, but I wasn't slowed up that much...

If we're still in this mess when I log in tomorrow (and I honestly expect it to be much worse tomorrow), I may actually have to pull some overtime. I have spoken to Scruffman about doing so if it becomes necessary, because at least I don't have to commute, but I'm honestly not sure I have the spoons for that kind of thing. Thing is, we need to at least get partway caught up. This reflects badly on all of us, but the others don't seem to fucking care. Scruffman's away, so they can do what they want, apparently. And it's leaving us massively behind.

So tomorrow is going to be a day. If our transcription software is still a mess of hiccups and crashes, I'll be emailing IT and asking what the hell is going on. If the queue is still obscenely long (and I would wager, knowing the doctors' work patterns as I do, that it'll be approaching 500 cases when I log in, if my colleagues in the office keep on the way they're going), I'm going to have to log some overtime to at least get us so that we're only one day behind and not two. I'll obviously keep a record and email Scruffman about it, but I can't just let this stay like this. And I can't make Goblin and Temp get a fucking move on - hell, I couldn't do that even if I was in the office.

Fuck. Just ... fuck. Two whole weeks of this bullshit? Are you kidding me?!? Scruffman is obviously entitled to use his annual leave, but we're already massively understaffed because no one hired a replacement for Sunshine and Sid, so if Goblin and Temp refused to pull their respective fingers out, we're going to end up so deep in backlog that we'll end up with calls from clients asking what the fuck is going on. Most of this stuff is fairly urgent. It's histology. It's people being investigated for potential cancer in a lot of cases! I don't necessarily expect miracles, but I expect at least the kind of work ethic that doesn't involve turning the office into a chat-and-coffee corner the minute the managers' backs are turned. If I have to keep the whole place afloat for two weeks, I WANT A FUCKING RAISE. Or at the very least overtime pay.

Thankfully my own week's holiday comes pretty much as soon as Scruffman comes back from his fortnight. I'm going to need it. Especially if I have to pull overtime.

*flashes back to typing queue when I logged out before*

...When. Especially when I have to pull overtime. UGH.

[jamiebluewind]

I have a fluxuating condition, so how bad I'm doing depends a lot on the day and on how well I'm currently taking care of all my needs (I also have AuDHD). Sometimes I can walk and even outpace others because of my long legs. Sometimes I need a cane to not fall over, so I always take one with me even on good days just in case. I use a wheelchair for long distances so I can safely get around without collapsing on the floor, but still go out with my friends. When I'm bad, I'm at home using my walker or bedridden. I'm young enough that I don't "look" disabled or limited until I do.

"Do you even need that?" said by an elder who saw me dragging my cane.

"So you were just pretending to get out of chores?" said by my sister who saw me playing video games a day after I could barely walk.

"That is nice, but where is the person who needs my help? Your mother perhaps?" said by a health aide.

"Why can't you do it now!? You did it just fine last month!" my cousin.

"Idiot. If you're gonna lie, you shouldn't do something that stupid!" my dad about a stranger crying and trying to explain to someone that they were just having a good day.

"I wish I could afford to sit on my butt all day." more than one person who don't know how bad it is to be isolated and unable to move.

"Other students have it far worse than you do and THEY don't struggle with this." a professor.

"You would scare the children." an advisor when I considered becoming a teacher after I explained my condition.

"You should be grateful for whatever you get." a doctor.

"Everybody knows you just ham it up for attention or whatever. You aren't ACTUALLY bad" my nephew a day after I collapsed.

"What do you even need an aide for? You're just lazy and want to be waited on hand and foot!" several relatives and strangers.

"Just drink more water! It's not that hard." a nurse my third time at the ER for dehydration when I lived alone.

"Ha! You see? Right there. Caught you." my partner's relative when something I said was different from what I needed later.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't see a reason why you would need a walk in shower and a shower chair. You'll need to bring in a letter from both doctors and [more paperwork]." an insurance agent after I fell so many times in a year that I got scared of showering (but only went to the ER once) and actively had bruises.

"Our facility isn't set up for someone like you." an in-patient mental health treatment program I was trying to get in when I was depressed... and all the others I tried before giving up on looking.

"Oh my god! (said giggling) Just use the chair lift. The floor is dirty and you look so silly like that." my friend when I want to get up and down her stairs (on all fours) on my own and felt up for it (the lift is also very slow).

Someone glaring at me as I stand from my wheelchair to grab something. Strangers who will fuss at a disabled person in designated parking who was "taking it away from someone who needs it" or "probably using your parent's" when they don't look the part. The government official who said to come back to their office when I had a "real" problem. The people who treat me like I'm a liar when I say I'm disabled and the people who treat me like a liar when I'm feeling good enough to push myself.

All of... this. It makes it hard to live a life worth living. It makes it hard to let anyone see me without something indicating that I'm disabled (like my cane). I can't let people see me bad because they don't think I can ever do anything again (or will even use it to dismiss anything I say from then on). I can't let people see me well because they think I'm faking disability and will want to take some/all of my assistance away. I can't do bold things or take little risks on good days either because the ones that care will chastise me. I can't work because no job would "put up with" someone that's so sporadic. I can't walk confidently without being afraid of judgment and I can't use my wheelchair without that same fear. "God damn it Jamie!" has been said to me many times before, but some say it because they're mad I suddenly got weak or were limited and some say it because I tried to be independent. It sucks! It sucks and I'm tired and please let me be a complex person like everybody else. Please? I just... let me have good and bad days and dumb and smart days and the thousand thousand other kinds of days that everybody else gets?

able bodied people will freak out when they see an ambulatory mobility aid user not using their aids but won't question it when a hiker only uses a walking stick or trekking poles when they're hiking. they're the same thing.

[troidatoi]

Day 6 - 9/10/2023

Guess who keeps on crying? Me! This week had fucking hands like literally tossed me around and threw me on the floor stomped on me. lmao. I'm trying not to let it get to me but I mean it's me so I am going through the motions right now until I feel better. I was driving to a friend's house last Friday when my car stopped and nothing was working so I had to pull over. Thankfully my friend and his dad came to help me and they had triple A. Got my car towed back to my house and I felt so bad because they stayed with me for two hours but I'm so grateful for them. My dad was being annoying about it and I'm like please just be quiet. I hate how my parents are so cheap with things that will benefit us in the future. My parents didn't want to get triple A because they're like we don't need it! And lo and behold! We needed it! With me being misdiagnosed the day before and then this happening to my car, I wanted to run out into the street so someone can run me over. lmao. I'm trying to eat more but my body's still in pain and I wish I wasn't in so much pain. I so badly want to enjoy food again without being scared. I know for a fact I have all the fucking above, eating disorders, body dysmorphia, etc. I'm trying to love myself while trying to fix my digestive system so that my body isn't in pain but it really is so hard. lol. The supplements help temporarily but I need a permanent fix and I know it's coming! It's hard to not hate myself while looking in the mirror but I'm trying my best. I can't thank my body enough for still trying to fight for me and for it to be as strong as it is while I abused it so much with food but I'm trying to have a healthier relationship with my body and food. I know I'll get there. Health is wealth!!

Job hunting is depressing the fuck out of me. lmao. I keep crying about it. I know someone is going to hire me this month. I just feel stuck with no way out and I have bills I need to pay. My mom's been helping me pay for somethings which of course I'm very appreciative of. Once I get a new job, I'm definitely going to treat her out to a nice meal or buy her a nice bag. I have to remind myself that this is all temporary. I do have a job with MGM Resorts tomorrow so I hope that goes well. I'm glad it's a WFH job because they're in Vegas. lol. I'll take anything at this point (as long as it's within my field). I'm surprised they got back to me so quickly because they called me the day after I applied and one of the hiring managers was already asking me questions. LOL. I was like what and then she's like okay let's set up an interview. I was wondering how they haven't hired someone yet because that job listing's been up for a month or so. Either no one is applying for that position, they didn't like anyone they interviewed for it so far or they're doing that thing companies do where they need to post something but they'll just hire within. I am hoping that's not the case. It'd be cool to work for them. I'd be down. Like if they hired me on the spot, I'd take it. LMAOOO.

I did a free Pilates class this morning and it was nice. I miss doing Pilates so bad. I struggled today. lmao. But the instructor was super nice and I thanked her for all the help and she said I did a good job today. <3 Once I get a new job and pay off a lot of my credit card debt, I'll probably take Pilates classes again and go to personal training again!! I just can't wait to feel better about my mind and body in general. I know that amazing thing is coming for me and that all the headaches, inflammation, bloating, pain, and the breakouts will all go away. The gastro doctor already seems 10x better than the holistic doctor that I was seeing.

Yeah, I mentioned I'm like crying a lot huh? LOL. I was finishing up Riverdale cause they put up the last season on Netflix and the last episode made me cry so fawking bad like I cried throughout the whole episode. It was basically about life and death and honestly it was a nice episode because if you've been watching Riverdale a lot of the shit didn't make sense. lmfao. But I think the last season was one of the better seasons because it felt cohesive opposed to their other seasons. Death has always hit me so hard and that episode wrecked me because they talk about how they lived their lives before they passed way and I obviously want to enjoy my life as much as I can which is why I'm always going to games and concerts and doing what I want because I don't want to wait until I'm old to do the things I want to do, you know? My mom gives me shit for it but I'm like okay? I want to have fun. Sometimes it's hard for me though since I think about my health a lot but I'm also trying to find the happiness and joy in things. Despite all the crying I'm doing and have been doing, it's not like I'm purposely trying to be sad or anything. I don't know if it's normal for someone to just feel so intensely about everything because I cry over everything!! And of course I don't want to wait for things to get better. I always try to actively seek out help and try and solve things because I know that there's always a solution for me and that everything always works out for me. It doesn't feel like it right now like my gawd, it doesn't feel like it right now but I know I will.

In June, I had back to back interviews and I was crying and stressed out about it and I was listening to Bulletproof by La Roux and I was like oh, let's see what music she has now and I wish I knew about her recent stuff sooner because it's so goddamn fucking good. Especially her second album. I instantly fell in love. So I dm'ed her on Instagram and I was like she's not going to read it! She's a celebrity! She actually got back to me the next day and I cried because she wrote a long message and I felt like she took the time to write back to me and it was like she didn't have to?! And I wrote her back and she said whatever it is, I got this and idk but it kind of helped me to still keep going. My friends were telling me the same thing but idk why it took an artist for me to be like you know what? Yeah, I am going through all this fucking shit right now but things are going to get better because I want and need it to get better. It still does to this day and after that, I became an even bigger fan of hers. I listened to her in high school and her first album was amazing. I went down a rabbit hole of her interviews and watching her live performances. You can tell she loves what she does. I bought like all this merch and hung up her vinyls and albums on my wall. I sent her a picture of it and a message and if she sees it, then great but if she doesn't then that's okay too! I just wanted to show my appreciation towards her and her music. I know she has a lot of fans that tell her the same thing. Her music does something to my soul and words can't express how much joy it brings me. She sounds like such a lovely person. I would love to see her live and even meet her one day. I hope I get to. I think like a sit down conversation and a hug from her would heal me in ways I wouldn't even know. I know she's dealt a lot with anxiety and everything I read about her, I felt like I could relate. I remember her saying something like she can't really accept things for what they are and I always thought the same for me. I like that she puts out music for her enjoyment and she didn't want to be a huge pop star. She's very humble. I think everything she does is so effortlessly cool like I want to be her when I grow up. lmao. I'm definitely manifesting meeting her one day. I'm always going to remember that she messaged me and I am always going to love her for it.

I'm sure I'm still going to be crying a lot this week but let's just hope for the best case scenario, that my digestive system is healing, that I can eat without being scared, that I'm going to get a new job this month, that I'm going to pay off my debt, that I'll lose the weight and be healthy. To always have hope that everything is always working out for me.

"I can't die until things get better and that's a threat."

[exrayspex]

why must i have hives

[kingfritzhater]

Zeke goes to Paradis AU

WARNING: Possible manga references/spoilers

So, I have a little AU in which Zeke still goes to Paradis with his parents, maybe he didn't snitch or it wasn't enough to protect him from punishment.

He barely survives as he is almost thrown down the wall before Kruger transforms and saves them both (this being influenced by Eren just like in the original series).

After Grisha gets the attack titan he hugs Zeke with such force he almost feels like he broke his back, apologizing non stop for hurting him so badly and being a bad father, and promising to make up for it now that they have a new chance at life, Zeke does not forgive him immediately, obviously, but he is happy that his father seems to want to make a real effort to improve.

They are found by Keith and taken inside of the walls without notifying the Military Police, keeping the same story about both of them not remembering anything besides their names, that they are father and son, and that Grisha is a doctor (I'm still amazed that they let him practice medicine without any proof, so I don't think someone would question any of them further about their relationship at the time).

The main focus of this story would come once Grisha meets Carla, like in the original, Kruger would tell Grisha about needing to start a new family inside of the walls, and once Carla came into the picture he starts to think of how they both could work, the problem starts with Zeke.

He does not like the idea that his father could have another family after everything that happened, he just saw his mother become a mindless man eating creature right in front of his eyes and still has terrible attachment issues with his dad, being barely able to leave his side due to the irrational fear he would leave him if as soon as he could find someone else (plus adding his thirteen year lifespan), so thinking of Grisha marrying and having a family with Carla scares him terribly.

And he can't even hate Carla, he wants to since he feels it would make everything easier, but it's impossible, that woman adores him with all her being and treats him even better than his own mother ever did, no matter how much he tries to misbehave or ignores her she still understand him and gives him all the space he needs to get used to this new dynamic.

The relationship between Carla and Grisha also changes, or at least how others see it, while the people in Shiganshina are grateful for everything that Grisha has done for them (saving them from an epidemic), they don't have the same opinion about his son, for them Zeke is a weird boy who refuses to talk to anyone he does not know well, it's gotten to the point that many parents warn their children to stay away from him. This has also extended to whispers about Grisha, about what did he do to make his son that weird, what could have happened to the boy's mother, and many similar things move around the mouths of the townspeople.

When Carla and Grisha finally announced their engagement, her friends and family advise her against it, they all talk about how whatever happened to the doctor's previous partner could also happen to her, how with the way his son behaves there must be something horrible hidden within the man. This she can sometimes understand, Carla herself has seen the horrors of the lives of women who married men who showed their true selves after marriage, but the thing is, that's not the most common concern.

What she hears the most, and the only thing that really seems to worry most people is that Grisha already has a child, and how she shouldn't waste her life raising a boy that isn't even hers, that it isn't her job to take care of him and she would be wasting her youth away by doing so, talking about Zeke as if he was an unwanted animal .

The first time someone brings that up, they do it in front of Zeke, he is used to this kind of situation from being bullied by the kids in town and listening to the people whispering behind his back anytime he decided to go out, yet this feels intentional, like this person wanted Zeke to hear all the bad things him and others thought about him, he was ready to just listen and let it go but the second the man started insulting Zeke Carla shut him up, screaming to the top of her lungs that if anyone dared to go after her child they would need to face her instead.

-"Now listen to me, you can talk about me, even talk about Grisha and I won't even mind, but the second you speak ill about my boy you will have to deal with me, You hear me?, I don't care if he isn't mine, I don't care if any of you think he is weird, the second I decided to marry Grisha I agreed to become his mother, now you can take your bullshit, shove it up your ass, and leave him alone!".

The man runs away as if he fears for his life he should, and Carla apologizes for her foul language, Zeke is completely silent, trying to find the right words to say, making her worry, in the end, and with tears coming out of his eyes, he asks:

-"You really want to be my mom?".

The full extent of her speech finally sets in for Carla and she fears that she made a mistake, even when she doesn't know the real story she understands that Zeke is not completely okay with his father forming a new family, so her declaring herself as his mother without asking him for his acceptance was a very risky move, trying to fix the situation she comes down to his level.

-"I would like to, my dear, no matter what you say of feel I'll always love you like you were my own, but this comes just to what you want, you have a right to decide if you want me to become such a big part of your life," Carla says while she wipes the tears off his face.

Zeke sniffles before speaking.

-"Then yes, I want you be my mom".

Carla lifts Zeke up in the air and hugs him (this woman worked as a server for years don't tell me she does not have crazy arm strength), peppering his cheeks and hair with kisses and messing up his hair, both laughing out loud without a care of what others may think.

-"So, what do you think about going to that donut shop you like to celebrate?," said Carla once she put him down.

-"Can I get those stuffed ones that dad says are bad for me?," Zeke's eyes shine at the possibility.

-"Honey, he doesn't have to know," Carla winked mischievously.

_

So this is it, i have no idea how to continue this, otherwise I would have already written a proper fic, but I just wanted Zeke to get the family he deserves.

Sorry for any mistakes in the writing, I'm not a native english speaker.

[noonegetsleftbehind]

i have always been pretty transparent on here about the things that i am going through and struggling with so...

tldr? i'm going through it and it's made me a little slow and given me no concentration and i feel bad about that, but i am working on it. hang in there with me. i will be on when i can and post when i can. i love you all and i'm sorry for making any of you wait.

to say the year has been rough would be an understatement. don't get me wrong... a lot of GREAT things happened too and i am so grateful for them. nothing is ever perfect and there will always be bad times with the good. that's just life.

it's just been a super whirlwind of WHAT THE FUCK at the end of the year. in september i started getting horrid jaw/face/head pain. it got so bad i wound up in the ER twice for it. they said it was a bad ear infection so antibiotics it was. still didn't stop. they said it was a sinus infection. more antibiotics. went to an ENT and they ordered a CT of my sinuses and told me what i already knew... my nose is fucked up and needs fixed. i have a deviated septum. i've had one like my whole life. it's been over 30 years of me not remembering what it's like to actually be able to breathe, of constant sinus infections and various other complications of not being able to breathe.

flash to being told i have chronic sinusitis and more antibiotics... the pain changes and i think mmmm maybe this is more than just the sinuses.... so i went to the dentist. sure enough all 4 of my wisdom teeth were PISSED. went to an oral surgeon and two of them were badly impacted, one sitting directly on my nerve and one at the time had an active infection. got shit set up to go ahead with surgery.

all of a sudden i feel something familiar and convince myself it's just a uti.... i knew it wasn't. it was bad. my doctor told me to go to the ER so i did. that's when i learned i had 3 kidney stones that were in my ureters that were working on passing and a giant ass 10mm boulder about to drop of out of my one kidney. saw my urologist and got told hey it might take a minute to schedule this surgery, but you need it so if you're in pain go to the ER and make sure you're admitted so they do it as an emergency surgery. welp... pain got bad and i had my first stay in a hospital as i had to wait until the next morning for a surgeon. had all of that removed and a stent put in for 2.5 weeks.

the day after i had to have my stent removed was my surgery for wisdom teeth. apparently 3 of 4 of my teeth were infected and it was a bad fucking time. healed from that. saw my CT results from the sinus scan and hooooo boy is shit fucked in there. got scheduled for another surgery on jan 25th to have my nose fixed and for them to go in and fix my sinuses.

i have 3 doctor's appointments AND a bloodwork appointment on tuesday. another doctor appointment wednesday. a meeting with my lawyer thursday and my pre-op on friday. on jan 19th i have my hearing for disability and i am scared shitless about the whole thing. it's been really really rough and it would be nice if i could finally have something work out in my favor.

i've just been... stressed. stressed and tired and depressed. i am pretty sure the meds i am on are NOT working and to top that off they give me HORRIBLE nausea that i cannot cope with without having anti-nausea meds on hand. i'm talking without that i will projectile vomit about 10 minutes after taking them.

my anxiety is at an all time high. my depression is... about as bad as it's been in about a year and the last time it was bad was not a good time for me. i struggle every day lately to find any semblance of joy in the things i normally love doing like writing etc. it's been... hard. i come here as an escape and to not have that escape just sucks. it sucks and i tend to feel guilty and awful for making people wait and letting people down so to speak. it just adds to my ick.

so this is me laying it all out there. i have a lot going on. my head isn't always in the best of places lately and concentration is so hard for me. when i AM on here it means i am really trying hard to be. hopefully the med situation will get better after tuesday and then i'll need time to adjust to something else.

i'm sorry i'm not fast or on it etc. i wish i was. i really do. i just have a million things going on and my anxiety is constantly coming at me about it which then just triggers my depression among other things.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter nineteen - “tomorrow”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2.8k

synopsis: reader is faced with a very distressing ultimatum and has to deal with the consequences.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

authors note: omg pls listen to “water under the bridge” by adele after reading this it’s fits so well

Muted. She felt muted - but not necessarily in a bad way. Everything in her was dialed down and dulled. Over the last couple days, Y/N had toned down her emotions, feeling less. Call it a coping skill. Call it a stress response. Whatever. It wasn't like she was sad about it. In a way, in was comforting - not having some overwhelming internal angst.

It had been a week since that fight she and Bucky got into. The mature part of her was telling her to find him and talk it out like the adults they were. But here's the thing. Over time, before they even had the fight, the number of therapy sessions they were having was less frequent as his treatment was improving. The sessions were more intermittent now, and there wasn't one scheduled for a while. Until then, she felt no desire to talk to him.

Was she mad? Sad? She wasn't sure. She just avoided thinking of things that caused her a considerable amount of distress. At this particular moment in time, Bucky was one of those things. Ergo, she made a constant effort to ignore all thoughts of him.

Though, she somehow couldn't entirely ignore the ever present lack of... Bucky. She had gotten so used to having him close by, used to having someone to talk to, laugh with. His proximity had become a constant. A comfort. She refused to admit to herself that silence didn't feel like silence anymore; it just felt like the absence of his voice.

She found she needed to keep herself busy.

Bucky handled it a bit differently. He had lots of intense emotions but he didn't mute them, per say. He didn't ignore them. He felt them, he definitely felt them. He just kept them bottled up inside and talked about it to no one. It was a very strange change of routine. Whenever he had some sort of emotional turmoil, he would always go to her - therapy session or not - to vent, rant, ask for advice, or just talk through a stream of consciousness. Now he just had to sit with it.

He spent most of his time alone. He missed her.

-

"Hey Shuri," Y/N greeted as she entered the princess' lab.

"Hello," Shuri smiled. "Come sit."

This wasn't a routine visit. Shuri mentioned wanting to talk about something else this time. Something important. She was reminded of this when she walked in to find two Doras sitting with Shuri at a lab table.

"So," Shuri started, "The trigger word experiment. We're here to discuss safety and security."

Shit. That awful thing. It had slipped her mind these past couple days.

"Alright. What are we thinkin'?"

"Well, the Doras don't think it would be necessary to have two of them there with you, but if you would feel safer with two, then that's fine as well."

"I think one is fine. I trust your judgment," Y/N nodded to the Doras.

And I'm not afraid of Bucky, she thought but didn't say.

"We also have a special location to run the experiment," one of the Doras, Ayo, added. "Away from people and secluded in the case of an emergency."

"Okay. That sounds good."

"We understand Barnes is now equipped with the vibranium arm, yes?" Shuri asked.

"Yes, he is."

"Then you need to know something for the experiment."

Y/N's brows furrowed, confused. Was she missing something?

"There's sort of a fail safe built into the arm," Shuri began.

Fail safe?

"There are a series of pressure points when, if hit correctly, will disengage the arm. It will just drop to the ground. So if anything were to happen-"

"I'm sorry, what?"

The expression on Shuri's face changed immediately when she heard her partner's tone. Y/N looked bewildered and almost in disbelief.

"It's there as a precaution in case Barnes needs to be put in check."

Suddenly, every emotion she had been "muting" rushed back into her head. Every feeling for Bucky returned, as well as her compulsion to protect him.

"Building that into the arm shows a complete lack of trust."

"You know what HYDRA did. It's unpredictable, and I'm sorry but we just can't be sure."

"We need to be careful with this so it doesn't blow up in our faces," Ayo said.

"I understand having that precaution for this test, I do. But it isn't just this test. Given it was successful and everything worked out, he was supposed to keep the arm. Right?"

"Right."

"So we fix the HYDRA programming and he's free, but leave the 'fail safe' in so after all of this, he still has someone in control of him."

"The arm is a gift," Ayo stated. "He should be happy he has it at all."

"I understand that, and believe me, he is so grateful. But a gift is for someone else to keep and use as their own. How are we supposed to help him and work with him for months, building trust and aiding him in healing to just tarnish all of that with deception?"

"It's what's best for the protection of all."

"Even after the experiment if it's successful?" Y/N cried in disbelief. "I should say when it's successful. Shuri, I've been seeing his progress for months and working with you on his neurobiology data. Can't you tell how much skill has been put into this? It's us. It's going to work."

"Even still."

"I can't stand for that. I would understand if it was just for this test, but after? We haven't come this far just to not trust our own work and Bucky's deprogramming. He deserves to have someone on his side."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but it's already been done. The arm is already built and being used."

"This is the plan," Ayo declared. "Either you are on board, or you are free to leave Wakanda. We can fly you out as soon as tomorrow morning."

"I can't knowingly be a part of this. It's wrong."

"As I said. Free to leave."

She refused to be a willing participant in perpetuating the loss of Bucky's autonomy. He's been through enough, had enough taken from him. She would not play a single role in taking more away.

"I guess I have to go then," she said, standing from her chair.

She couldn't believe the words coming from her own mouth.

Shuri sighed. "That's very unfortunate, my partner. I'm sorry we couldn't agree on this."

"I am, too. But please. Please consider what this will do to him. It's like saying 'even though we've all been working with you, we don't actually believe that you're not still a weapon.' What is he supposed to think of that?"

"Barnes isn't going to have to think anything about it..."

"...because he isn't going to know," Ayo finished the thought.

"No..."

"It's the way it has to be."

"No it's not."

"Y/N..."

She took a couple steps back, preparing to leave the room. "No, I'm sorry. I can't. He needs to know. I'm going to have to tell him."

"I'd advise against it if you care about your job," called an unfamiliar voice.

Y/N turned to the other Dora, whom she didn't know.

"What?"

"What would your employers think if they knew their doctor had certain... inappropriate relations with a patient? And a very infamous one at that."

She froze, face burning. Her stomach dropped and her breathing stopped dead.

Did they-? Who else-? How did they-? What did they-?

She couldn't form a single coherent thought.

"You are more than free to leave quietly, without any worries" said the Dora, "but if Barnes knows about this, you can be sure that the rest of the world will know about you and your... relations."

It was then when she could feel almost every piece of her world come crashing down. She could feel every test she took, every research project she was a part of, every hour she spent studying for the career that took years to build. The thing she was most proud in this world, the part of herself she most loved. She felt the job she loved and all the things she had learned and accomplished begin to crumble around her.

This career... it was her life. It was her passion. It was all she had. Now she was in immediate danger of losing it. All she could process was fear; she shut down.

Finally, she managed words.

"Okay," she conceded, her defeated voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go... quietly. I'm sorry."

With that, she turned around and took the remaining steps out of the now silent room.

- - -

When she was in the hallway, she felt like she was dying. The guilt was overwhelming. How could she betray him like this? She tried to fight for Bucky to get the truth and now she has to hide it from him and leave him. She has to lie to him.

Y/N was still in shock, completely immersed in her own fear. It felt as if she wasn't in her body. She knew she was moving - walking down the hallway. But her body was just on autopilot; she was gone.

She couldn't tell if she was crying but she could feel a twinging in her eyes and a burning in her nose. She was also hardly breathing so if she was crying, it was nearly silent.

In a faraway echo, she thought she heard her own footsteps. She wasn't sure where they were taking her, but she wasn't sure if she cared.

-

She walked, and she kept on walking for a long time. She could feel the ache in her feet once she sat down in front of the water. She hadn't planned to go to the waterfall - that waterfall... their waterfall. It just sort of happened. Perhaps it was a long enough distance away to feel safe.

She finally let herself think for a moment.

What the fuck had just happened? Her exact fears had come to be. Somehow, someone saw or figured out her and Bucky. It felt worse than she thought it would. Exposed. Embarrassed. Guilty. Humiliated. Distressed.

It was numbing. So numbing that she stared at the little pool and let the white noise of the waterfall clog her ears until she was able to lose track of time.

She had no idea how long it had been when he approached her.

"Y/N!" Bucky's voice called as he jogged over after catching sight of her. "I've been looking for you! Can we please talk?"

His voice snapped her out of it, but her gaze remained fixed on the water in front of her. She wasn't sure what to do, how to engage with him; she froze.

When she didn't even turn her head, Bucky guessed she was still upset with him. He didn't want to be a bother, but he needed to talk to her. He sat down right next to her.

"Okay..." he started, carefully. "I know things aren't great between us right now, but-"

She turned her head to him and the words died in his throat when he saw her face: bloodshot, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. He forgot whatever he was going to say, cupping both sides of her face.

"Oh my god, what happened!? A-Are you alright?"

The cool metal of his hand on her cheek made her want to scream, reminding her of what she could not tell him. Reminding her of the searing guilt. Trembling hands reached up to touch his arms. And then he saw the quiver in her lip.

"Oh, honey," he cooed, worried. "Hey... Hey, talk to me. Talk to me, what's wrong?"

He was so concerned and so sweet even after they had a huge blowout. If possible, it made her feel even worse. She didn't deserve his kindness anymore. She just stared into him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen.

Bucky had never seen her like this and he was scared. Was it because of him and their fight? He supposed so. What else could it have been?

"I'm so sorry, please don't cry," he caressed the back of her head with one hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said, I was just mad. You were right. I feel awful, I had no idea it upset you this much."

Their fight was the very last thing on her mind. Looking back on it, it seemed like such a trivial thing compared to now. But he thought this was his fault. She wanted to break into a million tiny pieces and let the wind blow her away.

She shook her head. "Bucky, no. It's not that. It's not you."

He looked so confused. She felt so bad.

"Then what... what's wrong?"

"I'm leaving."

Bucky leaned back, perplexed, and his hands slid down to rest on her forearms. "Leaving? You're leaving Wakanda?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, hey- You don't have to leave. We can figure something out. We were too risky, you were right. I understand that now. We don't have to do that anymore. We can make sure that we're always completely in private from here on out."

She shook her head, staring down at the grass below her. "I'm sorry, I can't... I can't do that. I have to leave."

She could barely look him in the face.

"You don't, it's okay," he implored. "I know it worried you, but it really only was Steve. And I know, I know it could have been anyone and I get that. I thought about it, and I get it. We don't ever have to... sleep together... again. We won't be distracted, and-and we'll be careful."

She clenched her eyes shut, trying not to let her burning eyes release more tears. It didn't work.

"Bucky..."

"Baby doll please," his voice cracked while he tipped her chin up to meet her eyes again. "We can just-... we can just go back to the way it was before. In the very beginning. We can- we'll only see each other in sessions, we don't-... No more lake trips or all-nighters or anything just-"

He sharply inhaled, beginning to ramble as his breath became unsteady.

His voice shook just slightly. "You can barely even talk to me if you don't want to- just please don't go..."

She thought a part of her cracked and died at that moment. She sprung forward and held him as tight as she could. Instinctively one of Bucky's arms was around her back and the other cradled the back of her head.

She thought maybe if she held tight enough, she could keep them together and she wouldn't have to leave him there alone. Of course he would be fine, but he would spend the rest of his time feeling like it was his fault that she had gone.

She couldn't let him think this was his fault.

"Buck, I don't wanna leave you. But I have to do what's best for the both of us. You'll be just fine without me. I promise."

He didn't think so.

"I'm putting your treatment and my career in jeopardy if I stay," she continued. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to either of us. I'm sorry if you hate this and I'm sorry if you hate me for doing it."

He mumbled something in the crook of her neck, but she couldn't hear it. She pulled back from the embrace.

"What?"

"I could never hate you."

Despite the fact that she was so internally distraught, despite what happened with Shuri and the Doras, with having to tell Bucky she was going to leave him, with having to watch him beg her to stay, despite the extreme dread and guilt within her, she still looked at him and felt so much love.

She was doing the very thing he feared and all he could do was care for her.

"God, I'm gonna miss you," she breathed before grasping his jaw, and pulling his head to hers.

Bucky tasted salt and he couldn't tell if it was his or her tears mixing into their lips.

As much as he wanted her to stay, he could sense how serious she was about this. He wouldn't be able to convince her to stay even if he tried. And he already did.

He could only soak up as much of her as he could before she left, and be with her until she had to go. He had no idea how much time he had. Wait-

"When are you leaving?" he broke the kiss as soon as the thought arose.

She was silent for a moment when another tear dripped down her face. "Tomorrow."

delicate taglist: @bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf @cc13723things @small-death-and-codeine @avengersgirllorianna @cataves @thatbitchsposts @talktomeaboutthestars @surrealpsycho @headheartbellarke @bubbly-moonwarrior @bluemoon-icecream @buckeyecreates @augustbucky @itsthemaree @undiadeestos

[make-sterek-canon]

That night I saved you || PolArm oneshot (KinnPorsche The Series)

Getting hurt being somebody's bodyguard is part of the job. It's inevitable.

Getting killed is another thing entirely. In Pol's eyes, it's unacceptable. Even more if the one at risk is Arm.

·

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“That night I saved you”

[Pol’s POV] (Italics = emphasis/others; italics and bold = thoughts)

·

·

Extremely warm night. Sticky climate. His suit is completely ruined from all the sweat and dirtiness. There's also some blood mixed in there. Snot too, probably. Pol can't tell.

He's holding Arm down with one hand and the gun with the other. Arm is unconscious and not even responding to any external stimulus. All Pol can feel is his heart beating in his chest. Too slow to be noticed but it's something, some hope in the dark situation they're in.

Pol needs to get Arm out of there and fast or he'll lose him, and he's definitely not ready to say goodbye just yet. Maybe not ever.

He pushes the button on his earpiece but dead silence welcomes him from the other side. He takes off the damn thing rather violently.  Time to put into action his last resort then.

"Pete! Pete!" His shouts fill the air. The bullets are still flying around and there's too much noise. He waits a few seconds, then tries again. Calling Pete desperately. Unrelenting sweat is falling down his face and neck, wetting even more his white (not anymore) shirt.

"Here!" He hears, and he sighs in relief.

"Listen! Can you handle it? I need to get Arm some help, he's in bad shape!"

"Go, I'll cover you!

That's all he needs to get going. Ducked behind a pile of sturdy-looking boxes, Pol tries to pinpoint Pete's position so he'll know where to move. Judging by his shouts he might be somewhere to the right and if Pol remembers correctly there's an exit that way. He needs to move to reach it though and it's easier said than done since he still has to protect both himself and Arm from getting hit by stray bullets. The only way is staying crouched while dragging Arm's motionless body.

Unresponsive as his fellow is, Pol is taking longer to do just that. He also needs to call someone to come and get them because they took Pete's car this time and of course he's the one that has the keys.

Pol curses under his breath. He'll definitely make a copy for next time. If there was a next time. There is still the possibility that none of them will survive the night after all.

After countless and torturous minutes he finds himself closer to the right side exit. This abandoned warehouse is big but not enough to get yourself lost.

Fortunately, no one has seen them and Pol hopes it stays that way for a bit longer.

"Hang in there, Arm. We're almost out."

He hasn't moved yet and Pol is starting to think that he's been dragging a corpse all along, but the sole thought is quickly getting to him and there's no time to lose.

The air is even more stickier and dense outside than inside the building, and Pol is heavily wheezing from the effort. Resting Arm's back against the facade, he places a hand on his chest to support him while taking the phone out with his free hand. Scratch that. He decides against it when not even two seconds have passed. They were not going to make it if they had to wait for someone from the major clan to come.

"Think, Pol. Think..."

Raising his eyes he suddenly notices an old gray Sedan some meters away, parked on the side of the smaller building, part of the main one but detached.

"This better work."

Hauling Arm as carefully as his own banged up body allows him, he walks to the vehicle. It should be easy to open since its windows are not armored as Pete's and the rest of their cars. Or if it's a getaway car as Pol suspects he could probably find the keys nearby, placed there for the owner to grant a fast escape. 

First things first, he rests Arm against the car and checks to make sure it isn't open before looking for the keys. Crouching close to the driver's side tire Pol sticks his hand in the space between the car's fender and the tire, finding the keys on top of it. Bingo. After grabbing them he gets up and when a shot rings out, his hand opens on instinct dropping them to the ground. The bullet impacts against the gravel right next to where Arm is and Pol's breath stops working for a second, scared that he might have been hit.

"Where do you think you're going, scum? Put your hands up and turn around. Slowly."

Pol does as he's told, facing the man. He's pretty much average looking, not as big in size as Pol and he's definitely tired if his labored breathing is any indication. He has to take him down. And fast.

The quietness doesn't last long when the man steps forward with his gun still raised. The distance is shorter and Pol takes that chance to surprise his enemy, crouching down and getting some gravel to throw it to his face. That gets him a shout in response and he promptly throws himself against the man next to take the gun away. It flies off somewhere. But that's not the end of it. The man only needs a moment to collect himself and he attacks Pol. Avoiding blow after blow, he counterattacks when he has the opportunity, but he's not fast enough to block a sudden kick to the ribs. Falling to his knees in agonizing pain, Pol raises his head to look at the man, who's got a karambit and is brandishing it right in front of his face.

"Very nice... Just stay there like the dog you are. Fucking useless." He snickers and Pol flinches in disgust. "Your fuck-buddy must be dead, huh? Don't worry, you'll be following him soon enough..."

Pol glances Arm's way and his eyes tear up but he bites down hard on his lower lip to prevent the tears from falling. It's highly efficient since the pain distracts him from feeling anything else. He's not going to give the bastard the satisfaction to seeing him cry. Not for his own life, but for his fallen friend. The defiant look Pol sends the man's way makes him smile sadistically.

"Ah, that look... I'm so gonna enjoy butchering you like I would do a pig..."

A sudden movement causes Pol to look behind the man, a bit to his left. The man notices but it's not enough for him to turn around or even move. There's no time since he already has a bullet embedded in his skull. The dead body falls forward right into Pol but he moves before it touches him. 

Still kneeling, he looks up at the shooter. Vegas.

"Empty promises... I hate people who are all bark and no bite the most." He says, with a gravely tone full of disdain. 

And suddenly it's like a staring contest. But this time there's neither winner nor loser.

"Where's Pete?"

Pol is not sure if he should answer though he somehow knows that Vegas means no harm to his friend.

"Still inside."

"Get the fuck out of here or I'll finish you off. Less Kinn's bodyguards means less threats to my clan."

"Why won't you then?"

"What?"

"Finish us off."

"Let's just say that a certain someone wouldn't like that. Be grateful."

Guess who.

With nothing more to say, apparently, Vegas turns around and walks to the main building, gun in hand and ready. You can still hear some commotion happening inside. Pol watches him go for a second before getting up to get the keys from the gravel to open the car. He checks on Arm then, looking for his pulse in the neck. It's there. Weak, but there. Pol heaves a sigh of relief. 

Getting him inside the car is not as easy at it looks but he manages to lay him down on the back seats. Pol is still not sure how is he that unconscious but he suspects he was brutally hit with something, and he worries that Arm might have a concussion since he's bleeding quite profusely from the head.

·

·

·

The road is completely empty on their way back and Pol speeds through it with too little care for anything else than getting Arm the help he needs.

Pol is so focused that he swerves and almost goes off the road when his phone rings unexpectedly, strident in the silent car. 

His heart still in his throat, he answers after a few more tones ring.

"Pol, it's Pete."

"Hey... How are things there?" He asks the best he can, trying to steady his racing heart so it could return to normal.

"Calmer. I- I think we did it. The cargo is ours" Pete's voice is wavering a little, and Pol is not going to ask how they got it since he already knows. They had outside help and if Boss Korn found out he'd be anything but happy. But he won't say a thing. He's never been a whistleblower and he won't start now.

"Casualties?"

"Not many. We came prepared after all."

"Yeah..." Pol distractedly says, looking at Arm through the rearview mirror.

"What about Arm? Where are you taking him?"

"Where do you think?"

"Dr. Top? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Pol grips the steering wheel so hard that both his hands start hurting, and he asks with his teeth clenched. "I don't have many options at the moment, or do I?"

He doesn't trust the man either but it's also true that there's nobody else they can go to. Dr. Top is as mysterious as he is a good doctor, and he'll treat Arm fairly. 

"Ok, ok. Do what you have to do."

Running a trembling hand through his thick and slightly sweaty hair, Pol exhales slowly. "Pete, Arm... he... I'm not sure if he's alive. He hasn't moved or anything since before we left. He had a pulse when I got him into the car, but it was weak. He... he may be dead for all I know and fuck, I'm not okay with that..."

"Pol, you need to calm down," Pete says softly. "It's going to be okay, you hear me? He's gonna be alright. He's one of the toughtest men I know. So stop thinking. It's definitely not helping."

"It's just-"

"No, and whatever you might want to say? Just keep it for when he comes around. Okay? Call me when you get there."

"Yeah."

"Pol."

"Yeah, alright. I'll call you."

"And... ?"

"Stop thinking. I got it the first time, Pete."

"Just in case you forgot."

"Right... See you."

"See ya."

Then Pol hears a "Vegas, what the f-" and suddenly the line is cut off. 

He doesn't move or says anything for a while, but the silence becomes too much and he feels the need to fill it.

"Vegas came to help... Can you imagine? That sadistic bastard helping us... Well, more like helping Pete." Pol mumbles, looking in the rearview mirror from time to time. "He saved my life. I'm not sure if I should be grateful or scared. I owe him, big-time." He doesn't know what comes into him but in a flash, Pol hits the steering wheel quite violently. "Fuck, Arm. Talk. Open your damn eyes. Can you at least hear me?" Regret washes over him the second he explodes. "I can't believe I'm doing this... I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry. I should have been there for you sooner. If you die...” Don't you dare die on me.

·

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·

The Anakinn residence comes into sight, imposing and in complete darkness except for the lights on the front facade. 

Next to it, Dr. Top's house lies. It kinda looks like a cabin and it has all the comodities and necessities but if he lives there is basically because it is in his contract. Other than that, he comes and goes at will. No questions asked.

Getting out of the car Pol opens the back door to take Arm out. He doesn't even care about leaving the car open since it's not his and carries Arm bridal style towards the house. The entrance light turns on before he reaches the wooden door and it opens, showing the doctor in silky maroon pajamas. He's the definition of tall, dark and handsome. That's probably why Boss Tankhun and Vegas' brother Macao are head over heels for the man.

"Sleeping, Doc?"

The man smirks for a microsecond and urges Pol to get inside. "Leave him on the dining room table." He quickly follows the orders. It was like someone had told the doctor that they were coming because the table was clearly prepared for an emergency. Leaving him there, Pol steps back. That's when he takes a moment to evaluate Arm's state by himself. He's too damn pale. But other than that he looks like he's sleeping.

"Can you tell me what happened to him?" The doctor asks while checking Arm for vitals and shining a light into his eyes.

"I don't really know. I wasn't even close when it happened." Pol explains. "But I guess he was hit with some kind of weapon or thrown against something..." He stops talking, swallowing hard when he notices that his voice is breaking.

"It must be a concussion... Has he been unconscious the whole time?" 

So I was right. Pol nods, not trusting his voice just yet. 

"I'm gonna need you to be vocal, Pol. Get yourself together and talk."

"Y- yeah, he's been like that since I found him lying on the ground."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Pol clenches his fists. Son of a...

"Okay, you can wait outside. Drink some water. Eat something. Do whatever you want, but get out of my sight."

"What? No-"

"Yes, Pol. You're making me uncomfortable, and you don't want Arm to suffer the consequences, right?"

Frowning and still with his fists clenched, he barks a resounding negative, storming out of the dining room after glancing at Arm for a brief second.

If he lets himself get carried away and closes the door with more force than necessary nobody can really blame him.

·

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·

Pol doesn't know how much time he spends sitting on that awfully orange colored sofa, but he's been dozing off for a while, his eyes opening and closing non-stop. 

But he knows he obviously lost the battle when he's startled awake by a hand shaking him. His own grabs that hand determined to get it off him in the worst way possible but he's promptly stopped by a familiar voice calling his name. "Pol, it's me."

Pete's delicate face welcomes him when he opens his eyes. "Pete. You're here." Surprise follows and he sits upright. "Why are you here? I thought you were with V-"

"He dropped me off and went back to work. He's got some unfinished business to attend..."

"Yeah, I can only imagine." Pol snorts, running a hand through his hair and clearing his throat. He feels it scratchy, like something got stuck there.

"Have you drank or ate anything? I don't want to be that person but you look bad..." And it must be true when his friend is looking at him in such a worrisome way. He doesn't even get upset for not having called him.

"I just can't... I feel like throwing up every time I think about it. Arm..." The reality hits Pol in that exact moment he remembers why he's in the state he is in. "Fuck. Arm. Pete, how is he? Do you know? Has the doctor talked to you? Is Arm... ?"

"Stop. Man, you're freaking out and that's not going to help either of you," Pete tries to calm Pol, taking his hands between his. "He's alive. He's fine. But he's not waking up. Dr. Top said that it'll probably take some more time for him to come to his senses. He also said that he's suffering from a severe concussion and that he's lucky he has no brain damage. So it's just a matter of time until he..."

"I want to see him." Pol declares, getting up in such a rush that it desestabilizes him for a second.

"You're going to hurt yourself even more. So stubborn..." Pete mutters, frowning while holding him by the elbows. "Has Dr. Top checked you up? Ah, don't bother answering. I already know what you're gonna say. Sit, for fuck’s sake."

"I need to see him," Pol almost begs. He just wants to see with his own eyes that Arm is alive. Is that so hard to understand?

"No, it's not." It's almost as if his friend had read his thoughts but he just said it aloud. "You know, it should have come as a surprise... but it just makes perfect sense. You are always together, and don't let me get started with those meaningful stares and little touches... Say, when you do you think it all started?"

"What do you mean?" He's still not ready to admit it out loud. Not if he can help it. So he chooses to play dumb instead.

Too bad Pete doesn't think the same.

"When did you fall in love?"

"You're being more nosy than usual..."

"I'm just curious."

"Should I ask you the same then? About you and that... man?" Pol answers back, quite forcefully.

Pete stills for a moment, with his eyes being the only thing giving him away. "I guess I deserved that one."

Feeling bad, Pol quickly backpedals. "No, I'm sorry. I just don't want to talk about it. It's not the moment nor the place."

"You're right," Pete shrugs sending him a tiny smile. "But don't think this is over."

"Oh, trust me. If I know you, and I think I do quite well, I just know you're not dropping it out anytime soon."

"Just delaying it. Because you look awful and I pity you."

Pol can barely contain a laugh. Pete is that good. He's a ray of sunshine among the darkness that lives within them. Even when he's had it really bad himself. Being a ball of happiness is his greatest charm.

"Okay, jerk, now make yourself useful and take me to him." 

“Methinks you should ask nicely,” Pete pouts, obviously faking being upset.

“Well, me thinks you're being ridiculous.”

“Ah, you're no fun...” Sighing, Pete puts an arm around Pol's waist, and he instinctively puts his right arm around Pete's shoulder as support. "Alright then, I'll take you to your lover boy. He's rocking the Sleeping Beauty look, let me tell you."

"I'm telling him once he wakes up."

"Oh yeah? Then I'll tell Boss Tankhun to punish you later.

Pol snorts. "As if I hadn't had enough beatings for two lifetimes..." 

"At least you weren't almost killed like a million times. Those guys were ruthless. The bullets kept coming and I thought I was a goner."

"You don't know the half of it," he mutters shaking his head, remembering how Vegas had saved his ass. Probably the same way he had saved Pete's if you think about it.

·

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·

It seems like while Pol was asleep Dr. Top had moved Arm from the dining room to the guest room that was next to the kitchen and the toilet. Not by himself, of course, but with Pete's help. 

The bedroom is neither big nor small, and it looks cozy with that warm wall decor paper beige colored with golden motifs. There are some paintings and portraits here and there, and a wardrobe in the bottom right corner, not too far from the full sized bed. 

Arm lies there, still a bit too pale but he doesn't look like he's dying anymore. Pete was right in his Disney comparison and Pol cracks a smile.

"Whistle if you need me. I'll be in the living room." Pete interrupts his train of thought and he just nods, following his friend with his gaze as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. 

Turning around, Pol walks to the bed and sits on the right edge, facing Arm. His hand moves before he can think about it and he places it over Arm's heart. His heartbeat is steady and Pol closes his eyes to calm himself. They're both safe and together. Together... As if the touch was burning him he removes his hand from Arm's chest.

"I'm going crazy... There's no other explanation." Pol sighs, running a hand through his hair as a nervous gesture. "You really need to wake up, Arm. That doctor freaks me out and I don't like the thought of you spending the night here. I want us to go home."

It's right then when Pol notices that Arm's hand is palm up on the sheets in a clear invitation. After clenching and unclenching his fist a few times, he closes the distance and grabs Arm's hand with his own, lacing their fingers. He's almost tempted to kiss the back of his hand, but what he does is leaning towards Arm to whisper in his ear in a soft tone: "Are you going to leave me hanging? I didn't peg you as a cruel man..."

At first Pol thinks it's his brain playing tricks on him or maybe a muscle reflex but when it happens again it makes him lose his breath. Something is squeezing his hand. Leaning back a little, he looks into Arm's chocolate eyes, unblinking. Awake at last.

"We're even then, because neither I pegged you as a romantic man..." His voice sounds extremely hoarse but it's like music to Pol's ears.

Wetting his lips, he smiles from ear to ear. "Ass."

This time, neither of them smile in solitude.

~~o~~

~~o~~

~~o~~

Hi!

Writing this second oneshot was a challenge. It almost killed me, haha. But it was fun and I loved writing it. So worth it!

I hope you guys like it ^^

Here’s the first ArmPol oneshot I wrote. This one is a continuation. Kind of~

I’ll probably write a third one (last?) and maybe a Vegas/Pete spin-off!

Now go  give the teaser for the series some love.

Thank you! <3

~Aeriel