#IVE EVEN GIVEN UP AND THROWN MONEY IN

[plsleafmelon]

speedran 5 stages of grief now im at acceptance: i cant fking get colorfes luka and ill just be suck it up and spark akito instead

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

Qsmp experimentation au (barely an au this is canon for several members but I’m extending it to the whole cast)

This post contains some levels of medical discussion, all fake.

All of the islanders are brought to a main federation facility as kids (including immortals in this au they are all around the same age but still are their species) and either are born in the facility (baghera), donated to the facility (Bagi and cellbit), or kidnapped for the facility (most of the other kids).

The federation is an organization that doesn’t work for any country government, but is basically a rogue institution that tries to make breakthroughs in science. They sell these breakthroughs to the highest bidding country so they can have the credit of discovery while the federation gets rich. They are rogue because to make these advancements, they find it faster to resort to…unsavory methods.

Child experimentation.

The federation as of now studies hybrids, diseases, radiation, dark matter, longevity, transformation, and a number of other subjects.

At first most of the children were quarantined in small groups, but were getting unruly and restless with the lack of entertainment (the federation are NOT good at raising kids) so the federation let them all come out of their rooms at scheduled times for “enrichment time”.

On top of that the federation has quite generously given (some) of the better behaving kids little stuffed toys. They refused to give some of the more mischievous kids toys (pac and Mike are some of the most destructive kids there). This is also in part to the fact that the federation refuses to spend too much money on the kids themselves. Luckily, the kids are more or less a tightly knit group and managed to share, trading the plushy around to whoever had the hard tests, blood drawn, or just had a bad day. Some kids are subjected to crueler testing, and the others will let that kid borrow their plushy as well. (As the first demon the federation captured, Bad had experienced quite a lot of harsh tests especially focused on longevity, which deals in lots of blood and tissue samples, so the other kids would often let him borrow their plushies especially if he was going into another surgery, nowadays the blood and tissue samples are taken from the other two captured demons as Bad now is going through radiation experimentation)

Unfortunately, the federation refuses to replace any broken toys…so several plushies have been broken and were thrown out.

The kids say they would be fine with broken plushies but the federation refuses to let them play with broken toys…one of the worst things that happened was little Bobby, Roier and Jaiden’s shared plushy, ripped its leg. All of the kids pleaded for Roier and Jaiden to be able to keep their plushy, and after most of them went through a physical fitness examination in order to get the toy back, the federation made them watch as the toy was taken away from them…

One of the current fascinations of the federation was a mysterious disease? Substance? Being even? they called “dark matter” due to its strange properties. The federation chose the elected leader of the kids to undergo this horrible experiment as this kid, Forever, was in peak physical condition. Poor Forever was exposed to the dark substance in a quarantined room for about a week, and is currently in critical condition that is slowly getting worse. He was allowed to stay a little distance away from the others at first, but after collapsing (several times) the federation has since quarantined him to the room next to Bad. Luckily there was a glass wall so they could talk and play (as well as they could play, Bad had Dapper, his own plushy but Forever refused to carry Richarlyson into the room with him despite the urging of the other kids he shared it with, believing that the matter would attach itself to the little plushy…) Sadly, they are quite separated now, as Forever is bedridden, with several IVs hooked up to him. The federation has managed to slow the spread of the dark matter, but not reverse it, and many of the kids are worried sick for the golden wolf (My au) hybrid.

Speaking of Bad…The federation, after years of taking tissue, bone, and blood samples have determined that he is one of the very few children that could withstand the radiation experiment. After one of the worst psychological survival studies the federation conducted (aptly named “Purgatory”) Bad, along with all of the other children, were sedated and taken from the large arena they were forced into, however Bad was exposed to a highly radioactive core in his sleep, and then placed in a quarantined room. He experienced heavy amounts of memory loss, although that could have been trauma sustained from the event (they suspect this due to mental trauma shown on several other children, the most serious cases being Baghera and Cellbit who were quarantined due to being a danger to the other children). Bad would lose his memory unless in possession or around the plushies that acted as an anchor to his mental health. (Sometimes the kids would visit the quarantine section from a safe distance and interact with the quarantined kids through a heavy glass barrier). Other than horrible nightmares, coughing up blood, tasting metal, and the massive glowing rips on his back, he seems to be doing just fine (he might be dying as well). Currently the federation is trying to use soul vulture poison to counteract the damage which should totally work fine.

But even if it doesn’t, Bad and Forever both were partially chosen because they clicked well with one of the abilities of one of the other kids, one of the most coveted experiments of the federation, the shark-totem hybrid Foolish. This rambunctious kid somehow manages to cheat death…for others. It doesn’t work for everyone, as they discovered with the late Spreen, but for some random kids, Foolish is able to, through contact, transfer half of the life force from himself to a dying person. This of course makes him sustain horrible damage, but the hope is to save both children. Foolish of course says he would rather die than save Bad if he were to die, but the Feds have told him he doesn’t really have much of a choice.

Have character questions? Send me asks!

[scotianostra]

On June 11th 1488 the Battle of Sauchieburn took place.

Originally, the battle was referred to as either Stirling Bridge or Bannockburn, but as these names have been given to rather more famous conflicts, it has been called Sauchieburn since 1655.  

Sauchieburn was fought at the foot of Castle Hill, a mighty crag topped with the fortress of Stirling Castle, that has been the key to the control of Scotland throughout the ages. The armies drawn up on 11th June 1488 would have been well aware of the location’s strategic importance.

The battle was the culmination of a long period of discontent with James III, King of Scots, since he was eight years old, James was unpopular with his nobles, his whole extended family, and even his wife, although the late Queen, Margaret of Denmark, had done much to maintain relationships with his earls and barons during her lifetime.

  The rebels had named the king’s son, Prince James,  Duke of Rothesay, as there figurehead, but he probably didn’t take to the battlefield.

James III had faced rebellion for months, with a complicated series of events leading to Sauchieburn.  Details of the battle itself are sketchy, there is more about the lead up than the battle itself.

  In May, James crossed the river Forth to use Blackness as a base, with the prince at Linlithgow. However, attempts to reach the young James there were repelled in a small skirmish, and the king was forced back to Blackness, from where he fled, leaving behind those he had given as hostages to the rebels.

  By the 16th of May he was in Edinburgh, and began spreading money around to raise supporters, including to his half uncle, John Stewart, 1st Earl of Atholl. At this point the rebels were geographically split, some at Stirling, some at Linlithgow. James again took the initiative with a sudden move over to Fife with his supporters and their men, advancing on Stirling, where on the 10th of June he took the rebels by surprise, driving them southwards. This left James with the town of Stirling, perhaps not the castle, from where he advanced on the 11th of June to meet the combined forces of the rebels driven from Stirling and those who had come from Linlithgow in support.

As I said there are no concrete details of the battle, but sources say James III fled, some say he was thrown by his horse. Nobody really knows for certain, but at some point he was slain, tradition says by someone dressed as priest, although some historians have dismissed this version of events, other stories mention his horse threw the King during the battle, and James was either killed in the fall, or was finished off by enemy soldiers, so three differing versions exist.  An interesting fact is that the King carried  the sword of Robert the Bruce into battle. The next day the King’s body was found. The official enquiry into the King’s death, held by James IV’s first Parliament in October (almost the only indication that the battle actually took place) merely commented that James III “ happinit to be slayn" and that

“oure soverane lord that now is and the trew lordis and barouns that wes withe him in the samyne feild war innocent, quhyt and fre of the saidis slauchteris feilde and all persute of the occasioune and cause of the samyne’.

Two weeks after the battle, James III was interred at Cambuskenneth Abbey, at the side of his wife, Margaret of Denmark.

For the rest of his life James IV wore a heavy iron chain around his waist, next to the skin, as a constant reminder of his role in the death of his father.

Pics are painting, thought to be of the battle, James III and his grave, although the original was destroyed by the religious zealots during the Reformation, the one in the pic was paid for by Queen Victoria.

[jobrookekarev]

The Beating of Two Hearts Chapter Nine

Chapter: Nine of Eleven

Words: 2,803

Summary:  Jo starts sneaking out of her hospital room and Alex chases her down.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, Meredith Grey, and Carina DeLuca.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences.

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Drama, Domestic, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Sad, Angst, Pregnancy, Food. 

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

…………………………………………………………………

Josephine Karev was absolutely the worst patient Carina had ever had. 

They always said that doctors make the worst patients and Carina couldn't help but agree. Then again she had given Jo a run for her money when she was in labor with her and Maya’s now one year old baby boy, Andrea. Carina had insisted she could labor on her own without an epidural. However, the pain made her cranky and she bit off Jo’s head more times then she could remember. When it came time for her to actually deliver, she didn’t tell anyone, even Maya when she started to push as she believed she could deliver her own baby. Luckily, Maya saw right through her and called Jo in. Which in hindsight, Carina was thankful for as it meant she could finally let go and let Jo coach her through the labor. 

Also because Andrea's heart rate dipped and Carina panicked, however as soon as her baby boy was delivered Jo handed him to Alex, who checked him over. He was just fine and Carina finally got to hold her baby boy. Now her baby boy was  absolutely perfect in every way, although as his mother she was rather biased. 

Jo was very much like Carina in the sense that she insisted she could do everything on her own, especially now that she had almost fully recovered from surgery. She was no longer a fall risk as her heart was strong again. She was free to move about as she liked. Something Jo took full advantage of as she lied to them saying she was just going on a walk around the Maternity Ward and then would disappear for hours. Carina could not count the number of times she had to send the interns out to look for her. 

It didn’t help that Jo knew all the ins and outs of the hospital and the people who worked there. Which unfortunately meant that she also knew exactly how to sneak out when the nurses weren’t looking. Although she still had the wireless fetal and heart monitor on she completely ripped out her IVs most days, claiming it was too itchy and annoying. Alex grew more frazzled each time Jo disappeared as he worried for his wife. At the moment she and Alex were considering whether or not they should put in a central line as it would deter her from pulling it out more often.

All these things Carina was thinking about as she rounded on her patients. She went into Jo's room and noticed how quiet it was. This should have been a red flag, but she just assumed Jo was napping. The curtains were drawn, but it wasn't as unusual either. However when she pulled them back, Jo wasn't there. The sheets were thrown back on the bed and her hospital gown and IV were sitting on the tray next to her bed. Carina mumbled a few words under her breath in Italian as she walked back out to the nurses station. When Jo had first started her disappearing act, they had moved her into a room straight across from the nurses station, but that didn't seem to deter her at all. 

“Where is Josephine Karev?” Carina asked as she caught Lucy's attention, the curly brown headed young nurse looked up in surprise. 

“Oh Dr. DeLuca you scared me,” Lucy said, putting a hand on her heart as she let out a breath. Lucy was sweet and caring and a good nurse but not very attentive to her surroundings while she was charting. 

“I apologize Lucy, but have you seen Jo?”

“No, but I checked on her twenty minutes ago and she was in her room settling in for a nap. She didn't disappear again did she?”

“She did,” Carina said with a sigh as she pulled out her phone, intending to text Alex. However, as she looked up she saw him coming towards her with a smile on his face and a lunch table tray in his arms.

“Hey Carina how's Jo doing?” Alex asked before he saw the look on her face and sighed as well. “How long has she been missing?”

“Lucy checked on her twenty minutes ago, and she took out her IV again.” Carina said with a shake of her head as she tried to pull up the tracking on Jo's fetal monitor.

“I'll try texting her, maybe she'll come back if she hears that I have mac and cheese for her,” Alex said as he pulled out his phone and shuffled the tray to one arm. 

It was mac and cheese day in the cafeteria which was Jo's favorite. He loaded up the tray with two bowls: one for now and another she could keep for later as she snacked during the day. He had also gotten some broccoli and a few other healthy sides before heading up to her hospital room.

‘Hey I brought you some mac and cheese. Where are you?’ Alex texted her and stared at the screen as her reply appeared in a text bubble of three dots as she typed, however after a moment it disappeared and he was left staring at the screen. 

Alex then tried to see if he could find her location on her phone but it only said that she was there in the hospital. Alex pinched his nose as he looked back up at Carina, who shook her head. At least the monitors for Jo and the baby stats looked good. She hadn't taken off her heart monitor, she never did.

“I can’t believe she slipped away again,” Carina said with a shake of her head. 

“I swear to God we should need to put a tracker on her,” Alex said as Carina agreed with a nod.

“Lets send out a page for her and I’ll send out the interns to look for her,” Carina said, as she went around to the desk and picked up the phone.

“Yes, Dr Deluca,” Lucy said, immediately picking up the other phone as the page announcement came across the speakers. “Dr. Karev to OB. Dr. Karev to OB please.”

“I’m on lunch, so I’ll go check her usual places,” Alex said as he put the tray down in her room. “Let me know if you find her.” 

“Of course,” Carina said with a nod as they both started the search.

The OR the galleries were her favorite and there was the little on-call room on the fourth floor where she liked to take her napped. However he didn't see her there and nobody he ran into had seen her either. He went to the daycare but the girls were napping, however, Daisy had said that Jo had popped in to see them and had stayed for a nice chat, but had left fifteen minutes ago, which meant he was getting close. 

He circled back to the scrub room to find Meredith prepping for surgery “Hey have you seen Jo?” 

“No but I heard the page, I take it she ran away again.”

“Of course she did, because god forbid she stays in her room,” Alex said with a shake of his head. “I’m never letting this happen again. I'm ordering a tracker tonight.”

“Let's be real Jo would find a way to get it off,” Meredith said with a shrug. “Besides, what are you going to do the next time Jo gets pregnant?”

“No,” Alex shook his head as he put his hands on his hips. “This is our last one, Jo and I have both agreed on it.”

“That's what you two said after you got pregnant with Helena, and then you adopted Luna and then you got pregnant with this one. Jo got pregnant a year after having Helena and now all your kids are going to be less than 16 months apart. Let's be real Alex, you love having kids and as much as Jo complains about it, she loves being pregnant, and you both love making babies.”

“Well of course we love making babies,” Alex said, with a smirk before he remembered why he was there. “But anyway, have you seen Jo?”

“Yeah, you should go to the lab. I saw her walking in there a few minutes ago,” Meredith said as she slipped on her mask and started to scrub her hands. 

“Thanks,” Alex said, turning to the door.

“Good luck,” Meredith, called back to him.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need it,” Alex said as he headed off to the lab.

Alex walked into the lab a few minutes later only to see Jo, sitting at the table with a mouse in a cage in front of her as she typed on her computer. She had changed into a pair of scrubs and that was probably why no one had seen her as she blended in with the rest of the staff. Taylor Swift was playing in the background as she listened to music and absent-mindedly twirled in her stool as she typed. 

Jo was so involved in her research that she didn't even notice him to come in until he cleared his throat. She jumped in surprise and put a hand over her heart. For a second, he regretted surprising her as he rushed over to her. However, Jo let out a sigh and plastered on a smile. 

“Hi sweetie, look at how well David Bowie is doing!”

“That's great Jo, but what are you doing here? Everybody's been looking for you for the past half hour! You can't just take out your IV and disappear like this!” Alex sternly lectured her as he shook his head and he came over to her. 

“Oh please, I'm fine, the baby's fine, and I'm still hooked up to the wireless monitor. Besides, it's not like I need an IV anyway, I'm eating and drinking,” Jo said as she took a sip from her water, looking oh so innocent.

“Your IV isn't just to give you fluids Jo, it's to get access to your veins to give you meds in case of emergency. Which might happen because you're pregnant and in the hospital because you just had heart surgery!” His worry getting the better of him as he yelled at her. 

“I am fine, Alex. You worry too much, Cristina said my EKG was perfect, the baby’s growing well. They're even in the 98 percentile now and I took all my meds like a good girl,” Jo said with a little smile as she patted her belly. Although she completely ignored his glare. 

“Jo please,” Alex sighed, closing his eyes as he started to argue with her again, but she cut him off. 

“I just get so bored sitting in that room all day. I need something to do!” Jo pleaded with him with big puppy dog eyes.

“Then I'll give you things to do, I'll buy you books, puzzles, games, I'll even bring in the PS4 and hook it up, if you will please just stay in your room. You're supposed to be resting, not working. You can’t stress out yourself and the baby!” Alex said as he gestured to herself and the baby, although he knew better to touch her right now.

“Look at me Alex, do I look stressed out to you?” Jo said gesturing to herself as she took another sip of her water. She had him on that one, she didn't look stressed out and in fact, she looked like she was having a fun day. Which only annoyed him even further. “You know, I wouldn't do anything to put myself or the baby at risk. I'm not even working. I'm just babysitting the mice and working on our paper. If we get it finished in the next few weeks then we can move forward on our human trials and if it all goes well Meredith and I could be up for a Catherine Fox award!"

“Yeah, that's great Jo and that would all be fine for you to do if you weren't a patient in the hospital!” Alex scolded her as he shut the laptop and stood in front of her. “Look, enough of this, I'm taking you back to your room, getting you another IV, and then I'm assigning an intern to babysit you until I can get a tracker strapped to your wrist, so you can't disappear again.” 

“You wouldn't,” Jo said, her eyes narrowing at him.

“Try me? Alex said to her as he raised one eyebrow.

Jo’s big brown eyes immediately grew wide, before she pouted and started to tear up. She started to sniffle and before dissolving into sobs as she put her hand over her face and cried into her hands. She pulled out all the stops this time around as she threw her tantrum, but Alex was determined not to give in to her. 

Alex just shook his head and grabbed her arm, pulled her up and put an arm around her waist as he led her out of the lab. Jo’s theatrics continued as he led her back up to the maternity ward. Carina was still there and she and all the nurses were relieved to see her. Jo reluctantly got back into bed and they didn't make her redo her IV for now. By now Alex was beginning to question if the tears were really a tantrum or if Jo was truly miserable at the hospital. Still he knew that now was not the time to talk to her so he turned to leave. However Jo threw her pillow at him, hitting him in the back of the head with a soft thud. 

“Do you have any idea how miserable I am cooped up in this room all day? All I do is sit around here all day watching tv, scrolling Tik Tok, and worrying about my heart and our baby. It's driving me crazy. I have to do something, anything to keep from feeling like a vegetable. I don't get a moment to myself unless I leave this room. There's constantly nurses and interns and friends coming to visit me and I hate it. I need my space. I need alone time. I need to get out of this damn room, it's starting to feel like a prison!”

“Look Jo, I get it I do,” Alex said as he came back and sat on the bed next to her. “I'm worried about your mental health, but I’m more worried about your heart. The interns and the nurses need to be here so they can take care of you. We can set up quiet hours so you can get some alone time, but resting and recovering isn’t the worst thing in the world. There's plenty of things you can do from here. You can even work on your Mini Liver’s paper from here, but you can’t disappear where nobody is able to find you. It's dangerous. A little bit of boredom isn't that bad.”

The tears dried up as he reached up to touch her face and dry her tears with his thumb, but Jo smacked his hand away.

“No you don't get it, you got to go back to work part time days ago. You're free to go wherever you like and you don't have someone babysitting you 24/7 like you're a child,” Jo said, growing angry as she let out a breath. 

“Look I know it sucks, but it's only for a couple or more weeks,” Alex said as he tried to reach out and comfort her again with a hand on her thigh, but she shrugged him off.

Jo grew more angry and started to close off as she claimed her mouth shut and curled up, turning away from him as she looked out the window. “Just go Alex.” 

“Jo,” Alex said, grabbing her hand and trying to pull her back, but she wouldn't let him and wiggled out of his grasp. 

“I said get out, Alex,” Jo screamed at him as she turned to glare at him. 

Alex abided by her wishes and got up to leave. He tried to see things from her perspective but he just didn't understand why she was so insistent on wandering around the hospital. He saw her trying to push the limits in ways that her body just wasn't ready for and it scared him. 

He knew she missed being able to do the things she used to and he knew how hard that was for her. He sighed as he looked back at her, her arms were crossed and she huffed and stared out the window. These days he worried less about her heart and more about her mind. He knew they couldn't continue like this but he wasn't sure how to make it better.

[happinessisbeyondmylevel]

with the rise of the "gen z doesnt want to work" bullshit I wnat to share my experience from this summer

i had a job for the first 2 weeks of june and was promised a position until august/until my college schedule came in. it was a shitty sales assistant job where the pos was older than i was. a maual input bullshut till. i git sent a pdf on whatsapp saying i "lacked skills" and had to hound the owners down via text to find out i was too slow to 1) man a till 2) label products and 3) put them out

how i got this job was strange and very quick. i applied on indeed on a random thursday. an hour later i got an sms saying "this is X from y store that you applied to. i have some questions" I happily answered bc well ive been searching for over 2 years now for something. i had no big aspirations for this place. i needed money, had a tuition and €10k loan to pay off so i happily answered. said that i'd be a 10 minute drive away or a 30 min bus ride, that college would be once a week next year, had no other commitments other than work during the summer

all seemed fine and we arranged a video call for teh following evening. this was the first time i'd seen than and the only time i ever would, and even then a light was shining from behind them so i couldnt see their features very well. they said they'd let me know asap and taht was that. true to their word I was let know very quickly I'd start the following thursday to when I'd applied.

i put everything i could into that minimum wage job. got paid in cash every monday (in an envelope in an unlocked filing cabinet). everything was so old fashioned. the breakroom was a (bathroom) sink, an empty cardboard box and a kettle.

i wont say i wasnt slow. but i was thrown in with minimum experience and 2 weeks in was given the worse termination i could imagine, on a monday, on the bus home and with an entire 7 days of work ahead. I had to go in every damn day thinking "im worth nothing to this lot why am i even here" i felt sick every damn time.

i still pulled my weight, bc again, the owners were not on site, and the others didnt deserve that, even if one did sell me out

i left silently sunday, I had lied and told the owner i had found something else and to not put me on next weeks roster. silently collected my money from the back the day after and went home

we want to work, but youre all expecting too much. 2 of my coworkers were the same age as me, had been working since doing their leaving cert (2 years) and ofc were quick as fuck. If id been given another week i know i would have been there with them, but I wasnt given a chance and so I just didnt even bother. they didnt show their faces to me and i wasnt throwing out my back for them a 3rd time. i fucked up my entire body for them bc they lacked everything to keep us safe

I dont know why employers are labeling us as lazy when they dont give us a chance. im starting to abide by "minimum wage requires minimum effort" going forward

[obsessive-bear-walking]

I have a lot of adult things to do today but I'm so exhausted. I have to call my doctors, and work out hotel stuff with my friend for another friends wedding. I will be spending all the money in my bank account to go to this wedding, and I know I'm insanely privileged to be able to eat with no personal money (I'm a dependant) but it's so stressful. I also have to call the local community College. I do not leave the state ever. Last time I was out of state was before the pandemic. I barely leave the house most of the time, I think the last time I left the house was either for that pride fest I volunteered at that nearly killed me or when I had to care for my father for the weekend. I don't go anywhere quite literally.

The entire left side of my body is fucked up, so I can't sleep on my left side and it's thrown me off weeks. My hip constantly hurts and so does my right knee. Like it just does not stop. No pain meds work and my back is constantly one wrong move away from going out a forth time.

Which sounds silly but I do not rest as well when I'm not in the right position. Not that I sleep more than 3 hours most nights anyway... but ... I just wish one thing could go right for me every single day is a painful battle and my doctors don't fucking listen to me as is.

Like I tried to explain to my doctor that my left eat keeps getting stuffed up even when I use those eat kits and she told me to buy one of those ear kits and try that (like I didn't just explicitly say I knew what it was and had used them?? Ive hsed them dozens of times and they do nothing)

Getting ssi isn't going well because I have to find a new doctor for my psych stuff (and can't get a new medical/gp/pcp doctor because I've seen all the doctors in the area who take my insurance this one was a last resort so i have to just deal with this woman who doesnt believe a word ive said AND who's front desk staff sent me my labs wrong so i thought i had a lump on my thyroid the size of my thyroid.) I'm just like. I'm tired of doctors. I'm tired of doing this all on my own. My mom helped me once but she's also disabled and someone else offered to help me but then when I tried to ask they blew me off pointedly by saying "just do it" then WHY DID YOU OFFER TO HELP ME??? whatever

Had to leave my last job because of my health issues. When I first started having back problems my only goal for recovery was to br able to keep up with my dogs and I've recently rejected fostering a puppy because I can barely move with all my other pain and this house is so toxic and I just feel like I keep failing so I do not have the patience for an animal. Which just makes me feel so useless. I just wanna be useful.

I'm just going to die in this house full of people who hate me I guess.

I had plans to move in with a friend after I got ssi but I wont be able to do that now due to circumstances.

I'm trying so hard to be strong but it's so hard. I feel like I've given everything in me to not kill myself for the past nineteen years and nothing is getting better.

I think I'm especially devastated that I feel like I'll never be Jewish or transition properly. I'm so tired of being useless.

[turnyourgays]

The Usher Foundation 3: Whips and Chains

Content warning for (very unrealistic, but still) child abuse mentions and general scary shit.

[Smartphone recorder chimes]

[Sound is muffled]

YVONNE: -e can't keep pretending like there's nothing wrong, Don.

ARCHIVIST: I'm just saying, it's not our business. He's probably just tired or something.

YVONNE: He's fucking drunk. You can smell it on him.

ARCHIVIST: He's getting his work done.

YVONNE: That's all that matters to you?

ARCHIVIST: [sigh]...what I mean is that he's functioning.

YVONNE: Logan needs help.

ARCHIVIST: Then go help.

[extended silence followed by footsteps and the creaking of a closing door]

[sound un-muffled as ARCHIVIST retrieves his smartphone from his pocket]

ARCHIVIST: Oh. It's already going. Guess I'll cut that part out later. [audible exhale]...Statement of Anna Vanberg, regarding her own monstrosity. Originally given December 28th, 2020 through e-mail to the Foundation. Audio recorded July 9th, 2022, by Donovan Ellis, Chief Experience Organizer at the Usher Foundation, Washington D.C. Statement begins.

--

First, let me tell you how I became a dominatrix.

Growing up, I had an enormous bed, and I literally lived in it. 24/7, I was hooked up to an IV that fed me a stimulant at 6 in the morning, and a sedative at 9 in the evening. Catheter. Bedpan. The only window was a skylight, and the room was soundproofed against the outside. The whole 9 yards of never, ever leaving the room. I was homeschooled, obviously, fed a steady stream of flashcards and books. I was taught math and science, but never literature, history, or art. I took tests that, looking back, were way above what anybody my age must've been doing. I remember trying to be a happy child, over and over again, but there was nothing to smile about. Success and failure were met with equal nothingness.

When I turned 13, they geared my education towards the medical. By 18, I had more than enough knowledge to go to medical school. How they got me into medical school is, to this day, a complete mystery. Regardless, I was enrolled in Harvard Medical.

And no, they didn't prepare me for going outside for the first time. They didn't prepare me for social interaction, or caring for myself, anything.

I struggled enormously. My eyes weren't even adjusted to seeing so many colors. I had almost zero musculature, and I was constantly shitting my dorm bed. My only redeeming quality was that my grades were good.

That's where the sad shit ends. I went to counseling at the recommendation of a professor, who noticed my complete abnormality. I gained weight, even made some friends. I got invited to a party, and that's where things got sexy. Never in my entire life had I even masturbated. Men, women, I needed them all, and I got them all. Sex was somewhere where conventional social skills were thrown away, and I was able to control people with it. They wanted me, and I made them work for it. Money, test scores, companionship, whatever I desired, I got in exchange for riding them and choking them.

Meanwhile, my parents never checked in on me. They paid my tuition from afar, but I didn't even have their number, so the pressure was off. I never became a doctor, I became a full-time dominatrix, operating out of my apartment in Boston.

I went on like that for years. Bliss. Absolute bliss. I tied my subs up like a spider traps flies in its web. I threatened them with knives and made them dance, strings around their necks and whatever parts they had between their legs. I'll be honest: I pushed a lot of boundaries. Made them do a lot of shit they would've been uncomfortable with had they been with any other domme. Not just in a fetishistic sense. I made them stretch their bodies, or put them in a trance with mere suggestion.

My life growing up became a blur, and I didn't give a shit about it anyway.

And then, like a thousand other stories told recently, COVID hit. I was truly alone for the first time since college. A lot of my subs wished me farewell - at least until the emergency ended - but a few others requested we do...socially distanced play.

It got freaky fast, and I'm not talking kinky. I'm telling you, they weren't just playing, I was controlling them. I'd move my finger and they'd raise their arm, I'd snap and they'd orgasm instantly. They couldn't even speak when I did this, not unless I made them. It stopped being sexy, and I just started doing it for kicks, and they kept coming back, begging me to do it again, no matter how terrified they looked afterwards.

They were addicted to me, and the feeling was mutual. I couldn't go a day without watching one of them squirm under my grasp, choke when I didn't let them breathe, sob and beg me to make it stop. I'd only respond by making them feel more pain. I'd fire their nerves, even sever them. Next day, they'd blow up my phone saying thank you.

One day, though, I didn't have any appointments. I was starving for it instantly. My skin was itchy. I was hungry no matter how much I ate. I was cold and shivering. I stared out my window, and saw him. A normal man, walking down the street, on the other side of the road. The way I felt...it was the same way I felt when I saw all those people at my first college party.

He snapped to attention, watching me through my window from across the street. I beckoned him to come forward, nearly drooling with hunger as he came closer and closer.

As he stepped into the street, a car struck him hard and fast, and I felt amazing. It was like an orgasm that lasted hours. It was a better fix than anything I'd experienced so far.

That was back in August. I can't even begin to tell you what I've done since then. I'm e-mailing you now because, well, first of all, I didn't know you guys were a thing until a few weeks ago. But I've felt this urge to tell you...I need to tell you.

You're reading this on July 9th, 2022.

--

Statement ends. I feel like I need to throw up.

[Smartphone recorder chimes]

...

[It chimes again]

I'm not bothering asking Yvonne and Logan to investigate this. Anna Vanberg is obviously a threat, and Logan particularly doesn't need that on his mind.

I'll ask the question Ms. Vanberg no doubt wants me to ask. How did she know? How could she possibly have known the exact date I'd be reading her statement? [sigh]...Recording ends.

[boneheadduluc]

Hello fellow Brühl simp! I saw an old tumblr post a while back about giving boys flowers too, and I was wondering how the Danny bunch would react to being given flowers/being asked what their favourite flower is by a lover 💐

This is such a cute idea!!! OFC im doing this! Andrea Marowski: sunflowers and lavender

His face goes red! You showing up with flowers in hand. Of course it wasnt something that happened often. But you knew how much he would admire flowers. Especially the sun flowers in the field just near your house, so you cut a few, also mixed in some lavender. he immediately kissed you. Thanking you over and over again. Even in german and polish. You learned flowers in general could get you a long way with Andrea.

Helmut Zemo: White Roses

It was a sleepy evening. Zemos birthday was today. You had been with him for quite some time. And of course you got him something nice. Not too crazy of course, you didnt have that type of money unlike him. "Hey Helmut?" You muttered, looking at him from across the room. You came home today with presents in hand, he turned around facing you. Eyes immediately dashing over what you had, a large bouquet of white roses. "oh. Liebling." He breathed out, walking towards you, his expression going soft. "They are beautiful. Ive never gotten flowers before." He would tilt his head, brushing his fingers along the flowers. The adoration clear in his eyes.

Laszlo Kreizler: Moonvista Carnations

You were confused at his reaction at first. You were just visiting, stopping by. You’d been dating only two weeks. The relationship was new and tender. Of course you didn't want to fuck up. So on your walk to the institution you passed the flower shop. Usually you never looked but today a flower caught your eye. You asked what type and you were told it was a Moonvista carnation. You bought a bouquet and handed them to him. He was definitely flustered. Taking them into his left hand, eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Do you like them?” You furrowed your brows trying to get him to meet your eyes. But he didn't. He turned around and walked to the dining table. Re-placing the withered flowers in the vase on the table. Before turning around, his cheeks still warm and blushed. You asked him what was wrong and after some prying he began to explain how hes never had anyone bring him flowers. You learned that Laszlo thought flowers were a gesture romantic and one of his favorite things, he believed flowers were the sweeter things in life and he wasn't used to being appreciated like this. But he was thankful. You exhaled in relief before cupping his bearded jaw into your hands. “Laszlo I appreciate you more than anything.” you would whisper before meeting his lips.

Niki Lauda: Orange Gladiolus

After the race, well Niki didn't get a win. It was an important one too...so you understood why he just raced back to his trailer to wallow. You knocked on the door softly. Honestly a little rattled, you’d never seen him this upset over losing a race. Plus, you had left flowers in his trailer since you were so sure he’d win it. You didnt have time to take them out so you knew he would've seen them already, but it was a good sign they weren't thrown out the window. So you walked in, and were slightly shocked by the sight of him, still in his race suit, cupping the vase with the bouquet or bright flowers. He was holding the vase to his chest, cheeks stained red, eyelashes a bit damp. he definitely was frustrated with losing. he had practiced so hard. He noticed you and blinked a couple times, inhaling deeply through his mouth. “You are the only person who believes in me and loves me. The only one.” His curls fell onto his forehead as he looked down now. His voice was tight and hoarse. It made you feel terrible as you took a seat with him on the couch, cupping his face. “You’re better off with me anyway Niki. Better then to have one person who loves you genuinely then tons of people who hate you but lie about it.” You kissed his cheek softly. “These flowers symbolize strength Niki. You are strong and honorable and I love you. I really do.” You whispered and he leaned against you, clutching the flowers tighter.

[cookingwithroxy]

I always questioned why people are so adamant against free healthcare, it helps my understanding that now i know that there are people who believe private hospitals and health insurance should be banned, which i think is stupid because I'm not about to wait at the line while the rich bastard that came with a Tesla can just pay under the table to be serviced first, but i legit don't see how anyone benefits in a country with no free healthcare option, and it's specially weird when people bring up the rationing and wait times, like babe...the other option is people getting bankrupt which is already in effect, the whole point of free healthcare is so poor people don't become more miserable, i didn't like being at line for 6 hours to get a IV bag to treat my desynteria, but the other option was paying hundreds to a thousand for it. Like the solution is more funding for public health or providing better jobs and pro-worker regulations that make sure people can only go up in the market ladder. There's legit nothing but subjectivists and ideologue arguments against free healthcare, anyone against it is just being counter-productive and suffering from "present poor future billionaire" syndrome

Part of the problem, and it IS a problem, is that nationalized health care is not a thing that works very efficiently for small european countries where almost everyone lives in or around well regulated urban areas.

And people are dying waiting for health care even under those systems. Even for minor things.

So why would that work for one of the countries with massive areas of population spread?

And more than that, it's the issue where people want to do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to fix the existing problems, even tho we know what they are, because the only answer is 'No, it all has to be thrown away and given to the government to regulate'. Which I find really goddamn funny considering that we're right now looking at multiple places in the US where trust in the government is at an all time low for very good reasons.

I'm just saying, do you want to be looking for a obgyn in Texas in the near future?

But no. No arguments about putting in price caps on medications. No banning of for-profit health insurance. No regulation on hostpital charges, or overhaul of ambulance systems. Those are NOT options, because they're not the 'hand everyone's money to the government and trust that they'll fix the problems!'

Well, I'll just remind you that the last time that was done with health care, what happened was that everyone was forced by law to buy health insurance. You know, the health insurance system that's failing us right now? Exists because of Obamacare.

[lifecourseblog]

BANDOLEROS - DON OMAR (FT. TEGO CALDERON) (TRANSLATED LYRICS)

YO! Tego Calderon, Don omar, the bandits

[chorus]

even though they say I'm a bandit wherever i go

i still give thanks to god for being where i am today

and im going to keep my {tumbao}>>>> {style of walking related to gangsters or swag}

and with my eyes bloodshot red

{with my cats activated} >>>>> {meaning friends ready for anything}

you guys have given it all to me

[Tego Calderon verse]

hey i dont care what they say about that nigga...

william landron and i are partners from the avenue

im a bandit just like that Mr politician

who stole all the money and was elected again {as if nothing}

now if it had been Calde or Don Omar

they would have given us conspiracy

and thrown away the key

and im not an example.

my respects to the tempo

hiss only crime was to have talent

what do you want me to write?

giberish and lies

about how the D.E.A has me in there sights

im clear and clean

all my taxes paid

and if i have no job they criticizes me that im lazy

i give first rate

and they treat me like im second

but just like that they love it

how this negro zumba >>> {Zumba.. to dish out: in this case rhymes or music }

i am your cuco >>> {cuco is similar to boogieman}

i have the Trabuco>>> (trabuco is a kind of pistol)

im know worldwide as the bad one

[chorus]

even though they say I'm a bandit wherever i go

i still give thanks to god for being where i am today

and im going to keep my {tumbao}>>>> {style of walking related to gangsters}

and with my eyes bloodshot red

{with my cats activated} >>>>> {meaning friends ready for anything}

you guys have given it all to me

(look)

[Don Omar verse]

damn what a situation...

i caught a case and then they pointed the finger

i was no longer the king of perreo >>>{perreo refers to the genre of music}

now i was tecato>>> {tecato is a drug user}

and another possible offender

two people said that they should throw me in prison

and i dont see it right.

i dont believe in their ungrateful reform system

i got arrested by to pigs just for hanging out >>> {pigs means cops}

and im here gritting my teeth, enduring , and keeping silent

if no one is perfect then tell me why are you judging me

i live my life just like anyone else would...

do what you like.. and take part in its pleasures

my people! im no different then you are

and if today i am a singer its because you made me...

they threw me on the front pages

"they caught a rapper if marijuana ,guns, and suspicious stuff"

it will only make sense in your mind

when you grow up where i grew up

and you are raised where they raised me

man.. so much gossip hurts me

so much gossip hurts ...

if you dont judge me id appreciate it

the benefit of a doubt is deserved by anybody

.............

[chorus]

even though they say I'm a bandit wherever i go

i still give thanks to god for being where i am today

and im going to keep my {tumbao}>>>> {style of walking related to gangsters}

and with my eyes bloodshot red

{with my cats activated} >>>>> {meaning friends ready for anything}

you guys have given it all to me

[Tego Calderon verse]

listen, people like to skin others alive

some as a profession, others just to spread some gossip {exclusive!}

leave you with out a bone

these social kiss asses

that make their living with the suffering of others.

i may not be a saint

but still i stay in clave >>> {in this sense clave means the top of my game}

im here paying for all my wrong doings

and im still here moving constantly forward

anyway that you put it i do less harm then i used to.

what really bothers you is that you doomed yourself

you tried to elevate yourself

but you forgot that

our father watches everything from above

the only one that judges the black man without discrimination

and iv never seen "al mannini van dog" >>> ( could be referring to a brand)

in the streets or in the alley its that bandit calderon

withholding judgment is appreciated

the benefit of a doubt is deserve by anybody

{Don Omar}

withholding judgment is appreciated

the benefit of a doubt is deserved by anybody

[scotianostra]

On June 11th 1488 the Battle of Sauchieburn took place.

Originally, the battle was referred to as either Stirling Bridge or Bannockburn, but as these names have been given to rather more famous conflicts, it has been called Sauchieburn since 1655.  

Sauchieburn was fought at the foot of Castle Hill, a mighty crag topped with the fortress of Stirling Castle, that has been the key to the control of Scotland throughout the ages. The armies drawn up on 11th June 1488 would have been well aware of the location's strategic importance.

The battle was the culmination of a long period of discontent with James III, King of Scots, since he was eight years old, James was unpopular with his nobles, his whole extended family, and even his wife, although the late Queen, Margaret of Denmark, had done much to maintain relationships with his earls and barons during her lifetime.

  The rebels had named the king's son, Prince James,  Duke of Rothesay, as there figurehead, but he probably didn't take to the battlefield.

James III had faced rebellion for months, with a complicated series of events leading to Sauchieburn.  Details of the battle itself are sketchy, there is more about the lead up than the battle itself.

  In May, James crossed the river Forth to use Blackness as a base, with the prince at Linlithgow. However, attempts to reach the young James there were repelled in a small skirmish, and the king was forced back to Blackness, from where he fled, leaving behind those he had given as hostages to the rebels.

  By the 16th of May he was in Edinburgh, and began spreading money around to raise supporters, including to his half uncle, John Stewart, 1st Earl of Atholl. At this point the rebels were geographically split, some at Stirling, some at Linlithgow. James again took the initiative with a sudden move over to Fife with his supporters and their men, advancing on Stirling, where on the 10th of June he took the rebels by surprise, driving them southwards. This left James with the town of Stirling, perhaps not the castle, from where he advanced on the 11th of June to meet the combined forces of the rebels driven from Stirling and those who had come from Linlithgow in support.

As I said there are no concrete details of the battle, but sources say James III fled, some say he was thrown by his horse. Nobody really knows for certain, but at some point he was slain, tradition says by someone dressed as priest, although some historians have dismissed this version of events, other stories mention his horse threw the King during the battle, and James was either killed in the fall, or was finished off by enemy soldiers, so three differing versions exist.  An interesting fact is that the King carried  the sword of Robert the Bruce into battle. The next day the King's body was found. The official enquiry into the King's death, held by James IV's first Parliament in October (almost the only indication that the battle actually took place) merely commented that James III “ happinit to be slayn" and that

"oure soverane lord that now is and the trew lordis and barouns that wes withe him in the samyne feild war innocent, quhyt and fre of the saidis slauchteris feilde and all persute of the occasioune and cause of the samyne'.

Two weeks after the battle, James III was interred at Cambuskenneth Abbey, at the side of his wife, Margaret of Denmark.

For the rest of his life James IV wore a heavy iron chain around his waist, next to the skin, as a constant reminder of his role in the death of his father.

Pics are painting, thought to be of the battle, the grave of King James, although the original was destroyed by the religious zealots during the Reformation, the one in the pic was paid for by Queen Victoria. The final pic is The Bruce's sword held by Lord Bruce, a descendent of our Warrior King.

[ronsenburg]

i saw this post and IMMEDIATELY started writing an essay, so I moved it here so as not to clutter up someone else’s post...........

it absolutely blows my mind that, today in 2021, i honestly can’t remember what’s canon from the turnabout serenade case, what i read in a fanficition, and what is my own personal HC. like, it’s been more than a decade since i played the case for the first time and it’s probably been 5ish years since the last time i played AJ (definitely forgot to play it again before writing youngblood which is.... contributing to this) so i really don’t know if what goes on in my head is accurate, but, over the years, i’ve come up with a Lot of Thoughts, which i’ll discuss below. 

tldr; it’s all about power (the desire for, the subversion of, the need to maintain), but if you’d like the specifics, here you go:

daryan: i think the explanation that he did it for “the money” is a line. please don’t mistake me, daryan is an asshole and a murderer, im not discounting that, but in court ive always thought that he was playing the part that everyone- especially klavier- is expecting of him. he’s the bad guy. might as well make it a finale for the books.

i’ve always seen daryan and klavier as opposite sides of the same coin when it comes to family and career aspirations. where i imagine klavier came from a well off and well loved family before his parents died, i see daryan from a working class, difficult upbringing. i read a few papers on the psychology of children/parenting style of police officers and decided early on that daryan’s dad was also a cop. his mother is either dead or (more likely) left them early on. dad coped by working a little too hard, gambling/drinking a little too much, and was overall not around a lot and kind of an authoritarian/controller when he was. it left daryan with a lot of anger he had to cope with, about what it means to be a cop, the idea of a “just cause” and the ends justifying the means, and an issue with authority (which is laughable, considering what a bully he turned out to be. sometimes we emulate our parents unintentionally; it’s the only thing we have to model our behavior on). so daryan started off at a disadvantage. klavier started off loved and supported and surrounded by expensive belongings, but the death of his parents and the subsequent emotional and financial abuse by his newly appointed guardian/brother left him in a similar place by the time he and daryan met. i think it was probably the foundation for their bond, and i think it’s why klavier decided to become a prosecutor instead of following in his brother’s footsteps and why daryan ultimately decided to enter law enforcement as well. i think they had a lot of optimistic, idealistic thoughts on being better than the people that hurt them, on utilizing the law to make the world a better place. i don’t think klavier ever conceived that kristoph could have wanted him in the prosecutors office as another pawn to play, and i don’t think he realized how fluid daryan’s morality could be.

shipping alert—you guys know me, im crazy for the idea of a “best friends to on again off again lovers to tenuous coworkers to bitterly disappointed in but still harboring feelings for the other person despite being on opposite sides” dynamic between daryan and klavier. i honestly can’t separate the ship from the case and im sorry about it. if you read youngblood you know that i think daryan started to resent klavier pretty early on, when they were still together, when the band was still successful, because klavier was able to move forward and work through the issues of his past while daryan was seemingly stuck. yes, daryan had made detective and the gavinners were a hit, he’d risen above his initial social standing and thrown off the control his father, he had money and fame and a future. but everything he had was because of klavier. daryan needed klavier, emotionally, morally, financially. but even when klavier was professing his love for daryan, both privately and in the form of chart topping songs, he didn’t need daryan. it was obvious (and of course, healthy, but how do children of abuse learn what a healthy relationship looks like without help? especially when the only relationships you’ve ever had are codependent and, in some ways, just as toxic?) and so things spiraled. daryan got possessive and angry again and klavier got distant and they broke up and got back together and broke up and didn’t get back together but kept ending up back in each other’s arms for comfort and for support and because how the hell do you move on when the person you’ve been in love with since you were 15 is sitting next to you on a tour bus and is also your partner in a homicide case and singing songs he wrote about you on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans?

okay, shipping glasses off, sorry. but no matter how you look at their relationship, daryan’s promotion out of homicide was probably the most distance they’d had from each other in years, as it removed a large chunk of the daily “working relationship” aspect. and without klavier there to act as a moral compass, it was likely easier to slip back into his earlier thoughts about what constitutes justice and his intense hatred of being pushed around by someone who has more power than you. so enter the chief justice with a son who is sick, dying even, but can’t get the medicine he needs because there’s a government out there telling them no. The reasons are arbitrary: the medicine could be used as a poison and can’t be found anywhere else so it might come back to bite the country in the ass if it’s misused by criminals. newsflash: pretty much all medicine is poisonous if it isn’t used correctly, should we stop using penicillin entirely because some people might be allergic to it? they’ve essentially condemned a whole bunch of people to death because they’re worried about their reputation. and that doesn’t sit well with daryan, who is caught up remembering the bullshit justifications his dad would spout when he knocked him around, that kristoph would give when withholding every single penny of money klavier was entitled to until he agreed to do what kristoph wanted. it isn’t right, it isn’t fair and unfair laws shouldn’t have to be upheld, especially when they’re the unfair laws of a country you most definitely did not swear to uphold and protect. it was never about money, though daryan agrees to take it when the chief offers it to him, more for his comfort level than for daryan’s need or desire. it’s about justice and putting a bully in it’s place with a (seemingly) victimless crime that should be so easy given his role in the international division of criminal affairs and klavier’s sudden hard on for the country of borginia. seriously, how could this have been any more straightforward? daryan is capable of murder, though. all cops are. and if it came down to a “them or me” shootout, of course he’d pull the trigger. 

machi: when you come from nothing, the desire to have something of your own is overwhelming. the idea that machi is famous and financially set is disingenuous; he is not individually famous, he is Lamiroir’s “blind” pianist. yes, she views him as a son and seems to care deeply for him, but his main purpose in her life is to perpetuate a lie. machi has been abandoned before; what will happen to him if lamiroir suddenly remembers who she was in the past? what if she has a family and a true son of her own and has no use for him? what if their secret is found out and the public rejects him for his role in it? he is 14. what does he know about being provided for? about contracts and trust funds and royalties? he ended up in an orphanage originally because he was unwanted, and that led to a life of poverty and hardship. abandonment issues are rooted in fear and are rarely logical. i find it far easier to believe that machi did it for the money, but more for the power money might have given him towards independence in an unfeeling and capitalist world.

kristoph: i won’t get into this, because this is supposed to be about daryan and machi and the guitar’s serenade, and kristoph is not really involved in that at all. but i think everything that kristoph has ever done in the game, good or bad, is rooted in a pathological need to constantly be in control. i think that kristoph and klavier both have very intense personalities that they have sought to control over the course of their lives for the sake of their careers. kristoph believes that to be a good lawyer, you need to play your cards close to your chest, that to show your hand is to expose a weakness that the enemy can exploit, that to show no weaknesses at all places you in a position of power. klavier believes that to show his true self, to display his weaknesses and fears to the public, would result only in their rejection. as such, they both wear masks of their own creation even under the most intense of pressures: kristoph as pleasant and calm, klavier as magnetic and dynamic. note the primary difference in their rational? klavier wants to be wanted, while kristoph wants power. and power corrupts, after all. once you have it, what could be more overwhelming than the idea that you might lose it all? it can drive even the most rational people to commit acts of passionate irrationality in the name of holding on to that power. and kristoph has so many pieces involved in his strategy to maintain.  

[kitchenangst]

Before Anything Good pt. 3

Mako x reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: Barely one month of living on the streets, and Mako has grown skeptical of anything good that’s offered freely to him. When the girl from the other side of town calls him stinky and demands he take a shower, he might just be right about his newfound cynicism.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, implied abusive relationship, incoherent thoughts, really badly described analogies

a/n: why is it so hard to get to the mAIN STORY LINE LMAO I am neglecting my hw so hard right now anyway lmk if there are errors 

pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iv

Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom, Mako, Bolin, bathroom- her feet bring her to her destination, hand on the knob, ready to burst in- wait, no, knock first. 

The door opens slightly, revealing a part of Mako’s face before his hand sticks out expectantly. Yn stares at his open palm before slapping it with her own. 

“Sorry! Forgot the towels!” she calls tersely as she hurries to the towel cabinet, just as she heard the bathroom door shut. Running back to the bathroom at the same pace with the towels in her arms, she freezes halfway as she realized she had forgotten their clothes. Fuck, where were the clothes, that’s the whole reason why she went to ask her mom in the first place. They had to be in the basket in her father’s room or something, she concludes, whatever that something is. She breezes by the bathroom on her way there, leaving the towels on the doorknob with an urgent knock, not noticing that they had fallen to the ground before she returned to the room. 

Clothes, clothes, what were their sizes. Frantically digging through the basket, all she finds are her father’s garments. Turning to the dresser, she urgently starts pulling the drawers out one by one, lifting and throwing the folded clothes until she can find the pair of clothes, the uniform, she realizes, that was always provided in faux hospitality.

As she continues to shuffle through the clothes, she can’t help but think that she should’ve just left the two in the alleyway (sympathy be damned, this was much more harmful than helpful) if she had known her father was going to mug them of the only money they had left. 

Is that why they had so many clothes uniforms for various sizes? To rob the other orphans she had insisted on bringing home for dinner as well? Wasn’t it counterproductive to spend money on them when these orphans barely had money to spare? 

She finally finds 2 sets of clothes uniforms: one roughly her size and another just slightly smaller. Without wasting a moment, she gathers them in her arms and races to the bathroom, rushing to stop her father before he leaves. However, she barely makes it out the door without him in the way. 

“Spirits, sweetie, what animal did you release in my room this time?” 

Finally sparing a glance around the room, Yn finds the state of the room just as messy as her mind. The clothes strewn everywhere and unorganized, thrown at rapid fire just like her thoughts. It dawns on her that he’s about to leave when he grabs his coat and hat… leave to mug her new friends (if she was even allowed to call them that at this point), just like he had every time before today. 

“Father, where are you going?” she tries to ask normally, as unsuspectingly as possible, but the shaky pitch as she calls for his attention might as well have given away that she discovered his scheming. 

“Just picking up some money,” he responds coolly, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps in their wake. 

“From where?” Her fingers twitch in anticipation of his answer, hiding underneath the uniform. 

He way he forces a chuckle out to alleviate where the conversation is going, sickens her as he crouches down to her height. “My boss, of course.” The tight lipped smile he gives is all she needs to know he’s lying. 

“You-you’re not stealing from them, are you?” The very thought of it felt absurd, but saying it out loud left a bitter note on her tongue. She clutches onto the clothes, the fabric the only thing stopping her nails from digging into her palms. “They don’t have any money!” She whispers harshly, unsure if she wanted Mako and Bolin to hear from the other side of the hall. She couldn’t tell what was worse: knowing that stopping her father will impact the household or that this would affect the brothers for worse. Was picking one over the other any better? Did she even have a choice?

“Sweetie, we need the money, too, so just keep them occupied while I look for it.” An order, and one she had no choice but to follow.

His hand snaking around the back of her neck is enough to stop her from protesting. The firm squeeze making the words lose themselves in her throat and forced to be swallowed down if she didn’t want to choke on air. His smile was cold in comparison to the unspoken threat in his eyes, his nostrils flaring just slightly to serve as a reminder that someone will bear the punishment in her stead, and the slight raise in his eyebrows almost daring her to challenge him. 

Somehow, it scares her more than meeting the back of his hand. 

He finally releases his hold when she doesn’t say anything. “Well? Better get those clothes to those boys,” he reminds her while standing back to his full height. “It’ll be the only nice thing they’ll have in awhile!”

Her face pales as her feet drag her back to the bathroom, hardly registering that she left the room in the first place. Knocking on the door once again, she merely shoves the clothes in Mako’s face before he can stick his hand out the open door. “Dinner will be ready in a bit,” she mechanically says, looking away. She turns back at Mako’s thanks, immediately regretting it because her eyes speak of conflicts louder than she can say, regret written on her face clearer than a sunny day, and she fears that he catches on. She opens and closes her mouth, unsure if she should tell them. Before she decides on an answer, she promptly shuts the door on him and returns to the kitchen to help her mother. 

Hearing her mom’s upbeat humming with a large pink print donning her face as she sets the table nearly breaks Yn’s heart. How could she pick between her mother and these two boys she just barely met? How would there be any way to satisfy both parties? She sighs at the conflict, her shoulders sagging at the thought of being unable to do anything for both of them. 

She begins filling the bowls with rice, her movements sluggish from dreading what will happen to Mako and Bolin. How will their opinion of her change? Will they forgive her? Will her mom forgive her if she makes the other two leave before her father could find their money, if they even had any? Was it like this every other time before? 

She hated it. The feeling of being tugged between two equally wrong decisions; the feeling of seeing the surface of the water while chained to the bottom, only barely being able to have the tip of her nose reach the surface for air; both of which her body would readily succumb to the dark. 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” She looks up from her spot to find her mother’s concerned face. “You’re piling the rice,” she says with a playful grin. She gently takes the bowl and rice scooper out of Yn’s hands, pushing the rice piled past the bowl’s rim back into the cooker. She can’t help but think her mom could have pushed it into the last remaining bowl instead. 

She merely stares at her mom filling the last bowl, proceeding to frown at her mom. “Will you be eating tonight?” Yn’s voice comes out much smaller than she hoped, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak any louder. 

Her mom stares blankly at her, pondering for a few brief seconds before concluding, “I would hope so. I made plenty for all of us.” Hope so. The fact that she had to think if she would eat, if she even got to, made Yn’s stomach lurch, stones piling in her abdomen, making it hard to filter out the guilt. “Those boys are nice. They should be able to take back any leftovers they want.” Her mom’s smile falters to a grimace, as if she was compensating them for their loss, for the misfortune she brought to them. At least she was doing something to balance the bad. What about Yn? What could she do? Her feet stay frozen to the ground, unmoving just like her problem. 

“Mmm!! Smells so good!!” Bolin’s call from the hallway snaps her out of her reverie. His head pokes out from the corner shortly afterward, eyes darting until they finally land on the table. “Mako! There’s food!”  

Bolin races to the seats at the round dining table with Mako shortly behind him, both unable to resist the enticing aromas of the meal and reach for their chopsticks, manners forgotten. Their mouths water at the sight of grilled fish and sauteed vegetables, and start piling it onto their bowls before scarfing it down with a wholehearted zeal that could light an entire town. 

“Doesn’t it feel nice to eat without being stinky,” Yn teases with good nature as she approaches the table with her bowl in hand. Climbing onto her seat, she begins piling the food into her own bowl as well, making sure to sneak the vegetables she liked less into her mom’s bowl. Dinner is quiet, save for a few chuckles from her mom at how Bolin practically squeals in delight at every bite, the crisp ring from chopsticks hitting the ceramic bowls or plates, and the dull thud of the cups tapping the wooden table whenever someone drank from it. 

This is nice, Yn thinks. She grins at the small smirk Mako gives Bolin when he puts more vegetables in his bowl, at the wide eyes that take up half of Mako’s face when her mom wipes the sauce off his mouth with a napkin, at Bolin’s little dancing when he thinks she didn’t notice he stole her favorite part of the fish from her bowl. It’s one of the more heartwarming dinners she hasn’t had in awhile, one where her mom’s eyes gleam from pure joy instead of unshed tears. The whole scene makes her almost forget about her dad, until she hears the doorknob shake. 

And like a crack in glass, the screeching of Yn’s chair scraping against the floor as she abruptly stands, ruins the whole atmosphere. Everyone stops mid-bite as they stare at her escaping the table. Mako and Bolin carry on after sharing a look while her mom struggles to swallow her food. 

Her feet slam against the floor, almost getting hit by the doorknob as it swings open. She cranes her neck to look at him in the eye, simply holding her hands out to gather his coat and hat for the second time that day. 

His hollow chuckle does nothing to warm her as he says, “What? No bow this time, sweetie? Did you forget how to greet people at the door?” The smile playing on his lips a menace and an indicator of his good mood as he recalls how successful his catch this time is. 

“No…” Almost shamefully, she bows slightly, her arms stiff as she brings them back to her side only to raise them again for his coat and hat. “Welcome back, father.” 

She dashes off to his bedroom the moment she retrieves them, patting the jacket and emptying the pockets for any signs of coins or bills, only to come out with a few yuans. Making sure to take it, she wedges it between the wall and the back of her dresser in her own room for later. 

She returns to the dinner table on time to see him seated between her chair and mother. The grilled fish she ate flops aggressively in her stomach when he mentions picking up money from his boss. A small bonus, he calls it. She catches Mako looking towards Bolin for a few brief seconds, eyes wary, at the amount.

About 1,300 yuans. It’s a whole lot more than the amount she found in her father’s coat. 

Is that how much they had? How were they able to have so much money despite being orphans? Where were they able to hide that amount? How was he able to find it? Where is he hiding their money if it wasn’t in his coat?

Dinner is silent once again, yet the tension is enough to ruin her appetite. It doesn’t feel as heartwarming anymore, the table flooding with anxiety and defeat at the mere presence of her father. His attempt at small talk is choppy and near condescending. Mako’s posture had stiffened since her father sat down, but if the stoic expression resting on his face showed any discomfort at his tone, he didn’t say anything about it. His choice to make dry responses doesn’t deter her father, doesn’t stop the fact that they’re in his household, doesn’t hinder his good mood from robbing.  

The plates are eaten clean with leftovers packed neatly into containers for Mako and Bolin to eat for tomorrow. Before they leave, Yn makes sure to carefully tuck the yuans she stole from her father’s coat earlier into the pockets of their washed clothes, leaving a messily scribbled note saying she was sorry. She returns the folded clothes to them just as they enter the carriage.

“Will I see you again?” It’s a stupid question, she thinks, yet she can’t help but be a little hopeful. Of course she can see them, but they might not want to see her again, especially once they find out their money was stolen. 

“I don’t know. We don’t really have anywhere else to go, so maybe?” And it’s a naive response that’s bound to change soon enough. 

Bolin’s face becomes the more dopey with every passing second he tries to stay awake, likely tired from digesting all the food he devoured. Once they secure their seats, Mako says their thanks as the carriage rides off. Yn watches it as it grows smaller and smaller in the distance, yet it does nothing to quell the growing guilt in her gut.

-

a/n: yall know I had to sneak in one last stinky before reaching the end of this chapter LOL i had to split this part AGAIN because it was too many words, and the next part will likely be the end of what i originally intended to have as part one,,, also updates may be slower from now since school is picking up the pace :(( anyway pls stay hydrated it’s like 100F where i am and it sucks 

edit: i tweaked the last few paragraphs a bit bc it was a tad confusing since i wasn’t very clear with my wording, so i’m very sorry about that ;( also i hope any questions you guys have will be answered in next few updates!! 

pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iv

taglist! (if you’d like to be tagged, pls DM or send in an ask!)

@welovediaaxx​​

[appalachianwiine]

Swim - Chapter 8 - Only Twenty Minutes to Sleep

Only 20 minutes to sleep

But you dream of some epiphany

Just one single glimpse of relief

To make some sense of what you've seen

“Epiphany” by Taylor Swift

“It hurts daddy.” Lydia whimpers, snuggling closer to his chest. It’s four in the morning and he’s been here most of the night. Lydia laid on top of him, crying and sleeping and complaining. She’d thrown up most of her meager dinner and had refused all attempts to get her to eat anything else. Even the offer of waffles had been refused, all she wanted was to be held.

“I know kiddo.” Daryl whispers, kissing her sweaty hair. She’s got a strange smell to her now, one that makes Daryl think of a hot bedroom in the back of a trailer in northern Georgia and a hacking cough that wouldn’t go away. One that means she’s sick. 

“I want to go home now.” Lydia whimpers, she’s clung to him like a monkey, she’s got to be more exhausted then he is, but she hasn’t slept much, every time she drifts off they come in to do vitals and she starts crying again. He reaches up to rub his eyes, god he wants to go home. Have a hot shower, his own bed, some real sleep. But they can’t. 

Instead he presses another kiss to her hair and says; “want something’ t’ drink?” 

“No.” She mutters. “I might throw it up.” 

“Okay.” He whispers. “Want a story?” 

“No.” 

“A song?”

“I guess…” 

“Down in the willow garden,” he beings quietly. “Where me and my love did meet.” He feels her small hand go to his elbow and start rubbing it in circles. “There we lay a’ courtin’ my true love fell asleep. I had a bottle of the burglars wine but that my love did not know…” 

It was a macabre song really, but he hadn’t really thought of that when he started singing it to her years ago. He just remembered it from his own childhood. The heavy smell of red wine on his momma’s breath as she knelt next to his bed singing the same thing. Her stroking a few dark locks from his face as he did to Lydia now. . 

“There I murdered that poor lil’ girl down on the banks below.” He supposed it should’ve been kind of obvious, but it was this or Merle Haggard - who wasn’t known for his lovely lullabies to little girls. 

From on his chest he hears her tiny voice join in “I stabbed her with my dagger, which was a bloody knife. I throwed her into the river which was a terrible sight.” 

It was even creepier coming from her. Though, if he was honest most songs were. She had that quality about her, even on the best of days, when she would sing her eyes would glaze over, and she took on an almost hypnotized look. Even ‘Row row row your boat’ was a little unnerving when she sang it. 

“My daddy always told me.” He continued, rocking gently from side to side “That money would set me free. If I would murder that poor little girl who’s name was Rose Connolly.” 

His mothers face drifts before him, a little blurry from time, but as young and beautiful as he remembered. Dark curls framing blue eyes, the ghost of a bruise across one cheek. He hummed a little and rubbed her back before starting the last verse. 

“Now he sits by his cabin door, wiping his tear stained eyes, a thinkin’ about his own dear son, upon the scaffold high. My race is run beneath the sun an-“ 

Lydia pushes back suddenly, making him start and he has just enough time to push her hair back before she starts heaving. 

Shit. 

He doesn’t have time to get her to the bathroom, bile and spit she’s able to throw up lands on his chest and the sheets surrounding them. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Lydia sobs, coughing and sputtering tears pouring from her eyes, a little vomit dribbling down her chin. 

“It’s okay.” He whispers, leaning over to push the nurses call button. “It’s okay, I can change.” 

“You ain’ mad?” She sobs. 

“‘course I ain’t.” He whispers, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe the vomit from her chin and reaching out to wipe her tears. “Yer sick baby girl it ain’ yer fault.” 

The night nurse comes in and flicks on the light, the bright light makes him blink and squint. Fuckin’ fluorescents. 

“Everything okay?” The nurse asked. 

“Nah, I think - we probably need a sheet change.” He muttered, looking around. Most of it was on him, but the sheets and. Bedding had a few dribbles too. 

“Oh sweetie, you get sick?” The nurse asks. 

“Y-yeah.” Lydia nods. “I need new pajamas.” 

“Okay, how about daddy gets you sorted and I’ll change the sheets.” The nurse says.

“Kay.” Lydia sniffles. 

“C’mere kiddo.” Daryl says, sliding out of the bed and picking her up. She wrapped her arms around her neck and wrinkled her nose. 

“You got sick on you.” She mutters. 

“Yeah, looks like I’ll need t’ change too.” He says, carrying her into the bathroom. “You wait here, I’ll bring ya yer pajamas.” 

“Okay.” She lets him set her down on the toilet lid. Daryl shuffles out of the bathroom and over to their suitcases. He pulls out Lydia’s Aladdin night gown and a clean t-shirt and pants for himself and returns to the bathroom. 

Changing Lydia around the PICC line is a bit of an ordeal even while she’s disconnected. The long tube hangs loose and every time it moves too much she whimpers and pulls away. He’ll have to get it bound up before they got back in bed. He reaches for the hairbrush on the back of the toilet and combs through her sweaty hair, no vomit in it, which is a good (he doubts she’d tolerate a bath right now), but he braids it back just in case it happens again. 

“You wanna go on out and wait?” Daryl asks. 

“No.” She sniffles. “Carry me.” 

“Baby girl.” He sighs. “Yer clean an’ I ain’. I don’ wanna get ya dirty again.” 

“You won’t.” She protests.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I will.” 

“You’ll come lay with me after?” Lydia pouts. 

“Yeah.” Daryl nods. “I’ll lay with ya after.” 

“Okay…” Lydia sighs, shuffling out of the bathroom. 

He figures he may as well use this opportunity to grab a much needed shower. He hadn’t showered in far too long, and he peels off his sweaty clothes aware that the vomit isn’t the only reason they smell. He doesn’t wait for the water to warm up before stepping under it. Even cold it feels damn good running over him. He reaches for the hospital issue bar of soap. He lathered his hair first, feeling the grease underneath the lather. It could really use a second wash but he doesn’t want to push it with Lydia. After giving his skin a quick scrub and rinse he steps out, drying haphazardly with the towel and pulling his clean pajamas on. He puts the dirty ones in the hamper in the corner, he’ll have to find the hospital laundry later today. 

“I don’t wanna!” Lydia is protesting, clutching the end of her PICC line tightly and scowling at the nurse. 

“What’s up baby girl.” Daryl frowns, glancing at the night nurse. 

“She needs fluids.” The nurse sighs. “She’s not keeping anything down and she’s getting dehydrated.” 

“They make me pee.” Lydia scowls. 

“You need to pee.” Daryl mutters. 

“Do not.” 

“Lydia.” He sighs, he’s bone tired, he doesn’t want to fight with her over this. 

“If they give me those and I pee they give me the medicine again!” She protests. “And that tastes bad and made me feel sick!” 

“Shhh,” Daryl says, aware that she’s shouting. “Baby girl this isn’t for the medicine.” 

“They won’t give it to me again?” Lydia scowls, not bringing her volume down any. 

“They’re gonna give it to you again.” Daryl sighs, telling her otherwise won’t do any good. “But not right now. Right now they just have to get you hydrated.” 

“No medicine ever again!” Lydia snapped

“Lydia.” He can feel a headache starting behind his eyes. “You have to get the medicine again. You’re sick baby girl we - we talked about this. But right now the IV will help you feel better, I promise.” 

“I don’t want medicine.” She whimpers. 

“I know.” He says, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I wish you didn’t have to have any medicine. But you do, just not right now okay?”

“O-Okay.” Lydia mutters. 

“Can they give you the fluids?” Daryl asks. 

“You have to hold me.” Lydia says. 

“Of course I will.” He promises, sitting back up against her pillows and letting her crawl on his lap and pull the covers over both of them. “They need your arm baby girl.” Lydia grumbles but sticks her arm with the PICC line out of the blanket. 

“Thank you Lydia.” The nurse says, pulling the end of the line up to connect the fluids. “There, all connected. Feel free to press the button if you need anything.” 

“Go away.” Lydia mutters, pulling the blanket up over her head and her arm back into the cocoon.

“Thanks.” Daryl says, rubbing Lydia’s back. He can hear her sniffling underneath the blanket. “‘S okay t’ cry.” 

“You smell funny.” She mutters, poking her head out at him.

“What?” Daryl frowns. 

“You smell funny.” She mutters, sniffing at his shirt. “You don’t smell like daddy. You smell like… soap.” 

“Oh.” Daryl says. “I had t’ take a shower’s all. Forgot my soap.” 

“I don’t like it.” She mutters. “I like daddy smell.” 

“Sorry kiddo. I’ll get my soap as soon as I can.” He promises. He’d never given much thought to how he smelled before, but he supposed he had used the same soap for years. Hell he couldn’t even remember the scent off the top of his head, he usually just grabbed it off the shelf in the grocery store and went on his way. 

“Good.” Lydia mumbles. 

“Try to sleep okay kiddo?” Daryl whispers. 

“Okay.” 

Daryl must’ve fallen asleep at some point too, because the next thing he knows the day shift nurse is in their room and light is flooding in from the windows. Lydia whimpers on his chest and curls herself into a smaller ball, just the PICC line drifting out from under the blankets she’s pulled tightly around her. 

“Wha’ time is it?” He mutters, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“A little after seven.” The nurse smiled apologetically, it’s Sasha again. The shift change has already happened. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“‘S fine.” Daryl mutters, it’s not like it’s her fault anyway. “You uh - you need her vitals?” 

“Yeah.” Sasha nods. “Dr. Rhee is going to come talk to you in a bit, but I’ll get vitals out of the way first.” 

“Biopsy results?” Daryl’s awake now. Those were supposed to come in today.

“I think so.” The nurse nods. “But it could be about the next dose of chemo too. She’s due for that today at around one.” 

“Oh.” Daryl glanced down at the lump which is Lydia, she wouldn’t be thrilled about that. He pulls at the blankets. “Lyd.” 

“No.” She moans. “No pokes.” 

“No pokes.” Sasha says. I just need your temperature and your blood pressure and your oxygen levels okay?” 

“No.” Lydia mutters. 

“What hand do you want me to put the pulse oximeter on? Your left or your right?” Sasha asks, pulling the machine over. 

“Left.” Lydia mutters, offering her right hand. Daryl has to repress a smile, she’d never been good with left and right but he was pretty sure Sasha would tell her rainbows came out of her ass if it got her to cooperate.

“Left it is.” Sasha smiles. Clipping the monitor to her finger. “And how about blood pressure?” 

“Left.” Lydia mutters, exposing a little more of her right arm for Sasha to put the cuff on. 

“Alright.” Sasha says. And do you want forehead or tongue temperature?” 

“Tongue.” Lydia mutters, poking her little pale face out from underneath the blankets and opening her mouth. 

“Thank you.” Sasha smiles, poking the thermometer under her tongue and holding it there for a moment before pulling it out. “Fever free, good job kiddo.” 

“Thanks.” Lydia mutters, letting Sasha remove the pulse oximeter and the blood pressure cuff then retreating into the cocoon of blankets again. 

“You want something to eat?” Daryl asks quietly. 

“Waffle.” Lydia mumbles. “Plain.” 

“No butter or syrup.” He repeats. “Your tummy feeling better?” 

“Kind of.” She mutters. “Still feels like I’m on a tire swing.” 

“You gonna let me out of bed to go get it?” Daryl asks. 

“Fine.” She crawls off of him and curls up in the middle of the bed. “Hurry daddy.” 

“I will.” He promises, sliding into his boots and shuffling out of the room. Across the hall Henry’s door is open, the blinds are up, and the bed empty but unmade. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but he tried not to linger on it.

He gets a waffle for Lydia and a cup of black coffee for himself. He knows he should eat something but he doesn’t really have the energy or appetite to get anything down. Especially not with Lydia’s biopsy results hanging over him like this. This would mean a treatment plan, a timeline, a discharge date, a real tangible plan that could get his daughter well again. 

When Daryl returns to the room he finds Dr. Rheesitting on the end of the bed, letting Lydia hold her stethoscope to her swollen belly. 

“Daddy guess what!” Lydia says eagerly. “There’s a baby in there and I can hear him!” 

“Really?” Daryl frowns. 

“Yeah I use the listening thingy and I can hear his heart.” Lydia grins.

“Alright Lydia.” Dr. Rhee smiles. “It looks like it's time for your breakfast. How about I take that and go talk to your daddy while you eat?” 

“Okay.” Lydia frowns, handing the stethoscope back to Dr. Rhee. “He’ll be back soon?” 

“Yeah.” Dr. Rhee says. “Mr. Dixon if you’ll come with me?” 

“Oh uh, yeah sure.” Daryl nods, handing Lydia her waffles and following Dr. Rhee out of the room and down the hall. “Are we uh - going to that - that same room.” 

“Yeah.” Dr. Rhee says. “It’s a little more private.” 

“Is this about her biopsy results?” Daryl swallows, remembering what Carol had told him about that room.

“Yes.” Dr. Rhee nods. “We got them back this morning and I wanted to discuss the new treatment plan with you, we’ll be starting it today.” 

“Today.” Daryl swallows. “Isn’t she still on - on that other chemo?”

  “She is.” Dr. Rhee nods. “But we’ll be adding some new ones.” 

Ones. Plural. Daryl's stomach sinks father. 

Dr. Rhee holds the door open for him and he steps into the room, there’s a stack of papers on the table. She’s prepared this in advance. He takes a seat in the same chair he sat in the other day and takes a drink of his coffee, ignoring the burning sensation it sends down his throat. 

“So,” Dr. Rhee says, pulling some of the papers towards her and shuffling through them. “We got the results back from Lydia’s bone marrow biopsy and we were initially correct. She does have Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.” 

“Okay.” He says slowly. “Like… that’s it?” 

“No.” Dr. Rhee slides the paper over to him, the text is small, and even though she’s highlighted portions of it it sort of dances around in front of him. “Lydia has a rare mutation we don’t often see in acute leukemia. It’s called the philadelphia chromosome. Essentially what it means is that two of the genes in the Leukemia cells have switched places. It also means that Lydia’s Leukemia is very high risk and will need to be treated aggressively. We’re going to do this with three different kinds of chemotherapy and a geneblocker called Distautinab. Distautinab is a newer drug and when used in conjunction with it’s predecessor Imatinib we’ve seen cure rates go up dramatically.” 

“Dramatically what - what does that mean?” Daryl swallows. 

“Well currently we’re at about 80 percent for this particular subtype of leukemia.” Dr. Rhee says. 

“Eighty percent.” He breathes. “And this - um - this is what subtype?” 

“Ph+ ALL.” Dr. Rhee says. 

The name triggers something in the back of his brain, he’s so exhausted that it takes him a moment to come back around to it. Carol. That’s what her daughter had. Carol’s daughter was dead. 

“Um Carol -“ 

“Yes,” Dr. Rhee says. “This is the same type of leukemia that carol’s daughter Sophia had. However Distautinab was not available for use in children at the time Sophia was treated.” 

“And Lydia.” He mutters. “What am I - what does this entail?” 

“A treatment plan of about two and a half years.” Dr. Rhee says. 

“Two and a half years.” Eh breathes. 

“Yes, though a period of that will be what is called maintenance Chemotherapy. It’s about a year of active treatment all together and a year and a half of maintenance. During active treatment she’ll have periods of chemo infusions both inpatient and outpatient, but during maintenance barring complications she’ll be at home taking daily oral chemo therapies.” 

“I - okay.” He mutters. 

“Do you need a minute?” She asks. 

“Please.” He breathes. 

“Alright, I’ll give you sometime.” Dr. Rhee stands and exits the room, Daryl fumbles for his phone in his sweatpants pocket. It’s not yet eight o’clock, the school day shouldn’t have started. He finds Carol’s number in his phone and hits the call button. 

“Daryl?” She picks up almost immediately. “Is everything okay?” 

“I - Lydia’s biopsy results.” He manages. “They’re  they’re not good.” 

“Okay.” Carol’s voice is blessedly steady. “What happened?” 

“It’s um - that chromosome thing. Lydia’s got it.” He mutters, running a hand over his hair and leaning against the table. He feels like he’s going to throw up. 

“Oh.” Her voice is almost silent on the end of the line. 

God this had been stupid of him. He shouldn’t have called and told her that. Her daughter died from that. He opens his mouth to apologize. 

“School gets out at 330.” She says, unknowingly cutting off his attempt at apology. “I can leave right after and be there by 430 okay?” 

“You don’t have t’ do that.” He says. 

“I’m going to be there by 430.” She says. “You - this is a lot to process. It’s hard. Have you gotten your treatment plan yet?” 

“No.” Daryl admits. “We-we’re about to discuss that she’s got a - a folder.” 

“Okay.” Carol says. “Look, I won’t promise you everything is going to be okay, but things have changed, three years is a long time in the world of cancer. And even if they hadn’t, you’re not alone in this Daryl.” 

“Two and a half years.” He chokes out. “She’s - she’s gonna be going through this for two and a half years.” 

“Yeah.” Carol says. “And so are you. This is your fight to Daryl, and you and Lydia aren’t alone here. I have a half an hour until class starts, are you okay?” 

“I- no.” Daryl says “She had a really rough night and now, now I’m going to go in there and condemn her to more and - and I know it’s going to save her life but she doesn’t know that. She doesn’t understand that.” 

“She understands more than you think Daryl.” Carol whispers. “She’ll be okay, she’ll get through this.” 

“We don’t know that.” Daryl whispers. 

“She has a father who’s fighting like hell for her.” Carol says. “That’s gonna make her okay. Not every kid has that. I’ll be there at 430 okay? I’ll bring dinner.” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “I uh - I should go. I need t’ - i need t’ know what’s gonna happen.” 

“Okay.” Carol says. “You want me to call at lunch?” 

“No.” He says. “I - she’s due for chemo around then, she likes me t’ hold her.”

“See, you’re all she needs.” She says. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Yeah.” He hangs up the phone and rests his head in his hands. 

“Ready?” Dr. Rhee steps back into the room. 

“Not really.” He sighs. “But yeah, lets do this I guess.” 

“So we’re going to start with the induction phase. That will consist of daily oral chemotherapy and steroids and weekly chemo through her PICC line.” Dr. Rhee slides a calendar sheet in front of him. “It will look something like this, though the dates will change based on her discharge date. We’re aiming for sometime next week, we just need to give her one round of inpatient chemo, check her counts and keep her fever free for 48 hours.” 

“We could be home next week?” That didn’t feel real to him, the idea that they could be home in a week. Hadn’t she just said that Lydia’s chemo was aggressive? 

“If everything goes well.” Dr. Rhee nods, tucking some of her short hair behind her ear. “We’re going to finish this round today and on saturday and then if all goes well you could be home by Wednesday. Now you’ll come back weekly for labs and chemotherapy, and if she spikes a fever above 100.4 you have to come into the ER right away.” 

“Okay.” He nods. “And that’s - that’s it? For two years?” 

“Well, no.” Dr. Rhee says. “Because of the type of leukemia that Lydia has we need to be aggressive in our treatment. This cancer likes to hide, so we’re going to do the induction phase, then we’re going to pull back on the chemo, to give her body a break and a chance to recover and then she’ll start three rounds of very aggressive chemotherapy. She’ll be inpatient for those, expect up to 30 days.” 

“30 days.” He mutters. 

“Yes. And she’s going to be a very sick little girl. But as I said the chances of a good outcome are high with this new drug.” Dr. Rhee says. “So if you’ll sign the paperwork I can get her chemo together and we can get ahead of this thing.” 

“Yeah.” Daryl nods, reaching for the papers and pen. “Jus’ - I want her t’ be a kid again.” 

“Kids are resilient.” Dr. Rhee says. 

“Yeah.” Daryl mutters. 

Can she still be resilient? 

[spield]

picking up v (suitor...s enter!)

Hey, hey hey!! So, here’s the latest installment of the picking up! verse! You can read the other “chapters” here.  In which Kakashi meets the other suitors.  part i - part ii - part iii - part iv

“I’m sorry about that.” Sakura apologized, settling the wine glass down. They’ve barely made it to their reservation, with the stare off that happened between Kakashi and Tobirama back at the lobby.

The two silver-haired (foxes) men kept their composure with small (non-existent) small talk, gauging each other. Sakura believed that the only thing that stopped them from going all caveman was the fact that they knew she hated it.

She was not a prize, damn it.

Good thing they knocked it off and Kakashi and Sakura went on their way. The restaurant they chose limited their capacity to provide a sense of privacy and exclusivity to their diners. Their table sat by the window, inside a small function room.

They just finished their main courses when Kakashi waved her off, “Don’t apologize. I didn’t know you were so popular, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Sakura’s smile strained, thinking of all the male guests in the wedding entourage. From what she heard, Pein will be there. That’s an entire headache right there and oh if only he knew.

“Ah, well. Tobirama’s an old patient. He got shot by one of  his client’s enemies after court.”

“Hmm,” Kakashi hummed, “I think I read about that in the newspaper. The Shimura case?”

“Yes —“

“Excuse me, here are your desserts.”

The waiter laid out a souffle for Sakura and a plain vanilla ice cream for Kakashi - which Sakura just found completely adorable.

Kakashi watched as Sakura’s eyes lit up at the first taste of the chocolate souffle, her cheeks flushing with delight. He could watch her eat forever. He’ll give her all the souffle she wants, if she asks for it.

Their conversation picked up, rounding with the details of the infamous Shimura case, and how it shook their nation. With the not-so white elephant in the room, Kakashi decided it’s time to bat it away.

Half-jokingly he asked; “So… are there any other suitors I should know about?”

The Uchiha family for all its riches is a subtle one when it comes to throwing parties. Which is the opposite of the Hyuuga clan. Glancing at the grand displays of 7 foot flower arrangements and number of tables for the pre-wedding party, Sakura guessed it was Hanabi’s family that won out when it came to decorations.

The wedding was tomorrow, this party, according to the invitation, was to allow the two families to get to know each other. Or, looking at the amount of passive-aggressive bragging, to one-up each other one way or another.

With the Hyuugas in politics and the Uchiha in the police force, Hanabi and Sasuke’s marriage seems like a political alliance to the untrained eye. But as Sakura sat waiting for Kakashi to return from the restroom, she could see the couple’s eyes soften at the sight of each other at their own table of honor.

It’s about love - and politics. Not the other way around.

“Please don’t tell me you’re not pining for your ex-husband at his own wedding party.”

Sighing, Sakura rolled her eyes at the droll voice from behind her. From her periphery, a red-head moved and sat across her - Akasuna no Sasori.

“Why are you here?” Sakura’s eyes narrowed at Sasori, “You hate Sasuke.”

Sasori shrugged, his indolence marking his movements. “It doesn’t change the fact that his father invested in our hospital.”

Ah, of course it doesn’t.

It’s love, politics and money - what a trifecta.

For a moment, it was silent between the rivals. They’d met at medical school, both studying under the heavy hands of Senju Tsunade and Akasuna no Chiyo. Sasori had been her senior for a year, before their tense rivarly started when Sakura dismantled his thesis paragraph by paragraph, making them graduate at the same time.

Their rivalry’s legendary. Rumor has it Tsunade and Chiyo still had a bet going on about when Sasori will confess his begrudging respect and hate-love for their favorite student - not that Sakura knew that.

“So should I keep my eyes peeled for a dramatic entrance of a scorned ex-wife tomorrow? Let me know, I’ve got to get my camera ready.”

Sakura’s eyebrow twitched, “I’ll peel your eyes for you if you don’t leave me alone.”

Sasori’s lips twitched upwards, satisfied with poking fun. “And here I was keeping you com—“

“Ah, Sasori-san, I didn’t know you were here!”

The Uchiha Matriarch, mother, or was it back to Mikoto-san now? was a lifesaver. Looking every bit of a matriarch with her pearls and beautiful dark blue dress, Mikoto still held an effortless elegance about her.

Sakura’s lips twitched at Sasori’s deflated expression, quickly masked with impassive politeness. He rose and kissed the matriarch’s hand. “I wouldn’t miss your son’s second wedding for the wedding, Mikoto-san.”

Mikoto took the insult in stride. Sasuke’s first marriage didn’t have a wedding - not of this magnitude of course. Given all the… circumstances surrounding it. The matriarch glanced at her former daughter-in-law, now shooting her a relieved smile.

What a pity she had to leave the family. Mikoto mused. Sakura-chan’s a great woman, smart as a whip with a backbone of steel - perfect for the Uchiha. With a glance around the ballroom, Mikoto could already tell the line of men wanting to steal her away, starting with this doctor. She also saw Congressman Uzumaki (yakuza, if she remembered correctly) lurking about and that lawyer Tobirama.

Mikoto smiled a practiced smile at Sasori, before placing her hand on the crook of his elbow, talking about the new technology Suna hospital has because of their investment -

They want her daughter-in-law?

They could try.

Hand-washing was one of the habits (or coping mechanisms) his former occupation left on Kakashi. Counting backwards from 100, he meticulously scrubbed his hands on the sink. From the cubicle behind him, a familiar figure emerged.

“I see that you lost the face piercings - good look. Must be a hit with the voters.”

Pein knew Kakashi, perhaps even knew what he was before he was a high school teacher (and even during that), and it really shouldn’t surprise Kakashi that he was here. A political gathering disguising as a pre-wedding banquet.

“And you lost the mask - you’re almost unrecognizable.” Pein said, standing next to Kakashi and turning on the sink - drowning out their conversation.

Kakashi picked off a few tissues and dried his hands, his customized face mask sitting snugly on his face. “Heh, it was going out of fashion. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to attend to.”

“Does she know?”

Kakashi paused, his back facing the legislator. Slowly, he turned and faced the impassive face of the shadow leader of one of the oldest Yakuza families in Ame. “That’s none of your business.”

“I knew you prefer older men.”

Sighing, Sakura turned to Shisui and shrugged off his arm from her bare shoulders. “Hello to you too, Shisui. I’m assuming you’re the one who sent her?” Emerald eyes pointedly looked at the lady Kakashi’s politely twirling.

He’d gotten back right as the meals were served and was promptly whisked away by an overenthusiastic lady with a penchant for pointing out their age differences.

Shisui shot her a grin before bowing in front of her with flourish, offering his hand for a dance, knowing that propriety dictates that she can not refuse.

Soon, her soft hand slid into his and he whisked her away for a dance. As they sway back and forth to the orchestra, Shisui lowered his lips to her ear. “You’d be surprised who’s more devious between Itachi and I, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed, roaming the room over Shisui’s shoulder. She found Itachi near the grand staircase, already looking at her with molten eyes.

“You two are persistent.”

Shisui laughed, leaning back an inch. “We prefer, determined. If you don’t mind.”

Sakura sighed, swaying in his arms, “You do know it’s odd if I get married to someone in your family again, right? Let alone my ex-husband’s brother or cousin.”

Shisui’s chuckle reverberated against Sakura’s chest, his lips grazing her ear. “Darling, once part of the family - always part of the family.”

“What are you doing?” Sasuke asked, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

Finally, Sakura had thrown in the towel and bowed out of the reception with a goodbye and a hug with the newly-weds. She had whispered in Sasuke’s ears a request to keep his relatives away from her.

“You still love her?” Shisui asked, daringly, eyes sharp. They were in Sasuke’s room, lounging, some sort of last bachelor’s party with wine and business plans.

“Of course.” Sasuke answered with not a beat missed.

Theirs was a history too long and too sweet to be brushed away. They may have ended but the bitterness of that ending was nothing compared to what they’ve been through. They grew together, loved together, had a beautiful girl together. How could he not love her?

Shisui watched as his cousin’s eyes glazed over, looking inwards, his body language softening before hardening as his coal eyes narrowed.

Itachi stared at his brother as if seeing him for the first time. It seemed they’d underestimated Sasuke’s loyalty. “We’ll take care of her, otouto, you know that.”

“I’ll always love her.” Sasuke reiterated, pointedly ignoring his older brother. He poured himself a glass of wine, remembering how Sakura looked up to Kakashi when they left the banquet. “Which means if any of you fucks up Sakura’s happiness, there will be hell to pay.”

When they arrived in Kakashi’s room, Sakura spilled out all the “suitors” who suddenly emerged after her divorce. Kakashi was pretty sure they’ve always been around, but he kept that to himself. 

A doctor, nay, an owner of one of the biggest hospitals in the country - Akasuna no Sasori. Championed by many in their field, saying that he and Sakura are the next power couple of the field. 

A lawyer, nay, one of the best criminal lawyers and co-owner of the Senju Co law firm - Tobirama Senju. The contender of the whole Senju family, including Tsunade (who had no apologies to give to Kakashi, she wanted Sakura as her official relative - sorry) 

A legislator and a yakuza head - Uzumaki Nagato. Or Pein. Who was frankly just a pain in the ass to deal with. Kakashi still had some scars to prove that. 

And of course, the Uchiha cousins. Championed by their whole clan, judging by the way the matriarch and patriarch approvingly gazed at them while they whisk Sakura for a dance. 

And then there’s Kakashi. 

“I’m just a humble soon-to-be college teacher,” Kakashi started and Sakura almost rolled her eyes thinking that there’s nothing humble about a retired military man who may or may not still be covertly working for the government and instead let Kakashi continue.

“Are you sure you’re fine with me?” he asked. And though he said it with humor laced in his voice, there’s a hint of truth. 

Sakura’s heart clenched painfully, and she took Kakashi’s hands. “Are you okay with me? I’m dragging you from your peaceful life and well, into this.”

“Can’t say it’s not gonna be interesting.”

Sakura laughed, leaning against Kakashi. In turn, he wrapped his arm around his shoulder and smothered his laughter against her hair.  (He’ll have to make some calls. Get the Hatake estates and businesses up and running. He’s not just. And maybe he didn’t have a yakuza family or a corporation, but he had Sakura- and the only approval he’ll ever need - Sarada’s.) 

[cherishedkids]

fight || tokito muichiro x reader

anime: kimetsu no yaiba  warning/s: sad, spoilers from the manga, mentions of injuries and character deaths words: 1,686 pairing/s: tokito muichiro x reader request: “Manga spoilers to the ppl who didnt read the manga!!! au where Tokito Muichiro lives and gets a happy ending with a gender neutral reader?” -anon

A/N: thank you to the anon who requested this!! gosh ive been writing so much muichiro lately 😳 i hope you enjoyed this!

The sun streams in, touching everything in its path. You were no stranger to its harsh nature, as you saw countless demons die by its hand. But as its rays touch your own face, you are reminded of a new day. A fresh path was open to you.

Muichiro lay on his back, bandages wrapped around his body. It had been a few months after the brush of death with Kokushibo. Thankfully, the gods saw fit to let him survive. The most that happened was the loss of his right leg and a coma right after. You knew his body needed time to heal, but you had no idea as to how long.

The first time you saw him in that state, you almost cried. Forget the noble cause of fighting for others, forget eradicating demons; he was ready to give himself up for the corps. Those who witnessed him fight the demon praised him for his bravery and abilities—those who were still alive, at least. Hundreds of thousands of his comrades had fallen before him, cursed to die in their work. You were scared for him, yes, but the passion in his eyes burned, and you knew that he’d do everything in his power to kick into gear the death of demons. It was especially present in the fight with the Upper Moon One. He was fine when he left you that night, but the next day, he came back to you, unconscious and battered.

But he survived. And he conquered death. So many times, he was close to dying. So many times, tears fell from eyes, worried sick. So many times, you prayed for him to be alright.

Everyday, for the past months, you waited for him to awaken. You needed a distraction—something to hold on to while Muichiro was not available. So after the first week, you decided to build your own house. It was difficult at first; finding free lands, contacting workers, and getting an architect to make plans for it, but it would be worth it in the end. You expected a lot going in. Money wasn’t a problem, as Ubuyashiki’s family was eager to help its demon slayers, but the stress of the project was big. You devoted yourself to it, as the fantasy of living a normal life with Muichiro gave you motivation. Even the finest of details—what polish to use, the type of wood, and even the lacquers, you paid attention to.

It was all for Muichiro. You had no idea the pain he felt as he laid there, thinking it might be his last moments. You wanted to alleviate that, if only a little, with a promise of a home after he wakes up. If he even wakes up.

The project was long done, the house sitting pristine atop a hill. It wasn’t grand—just enough for a couple to live in. But even so, Muichiro showed no signs of stirring.

Exhausted, you sat back down on your chair and waited patiently for him to open his eyes. The staff at the Butterfly Estate had looks of pity on you whenever you visited them everyday, but you were used to it. If you had no hope for him, then who else would? His flickering light needed someone to shield it, and if it took years, you were perfectly fine with that.

Again, his face lay in a peaceful state. The airy-ness that it exuded was nowhere to be seen. He was fine this way, he seemed happy. But you needed him awake.

For the umpteenth time, you reached across to hold his hand. If you could take away all the pain he had ever felt in his life, you would. He did not deserve this.

“Muichiro… please, get through this,”

Like all the other times, he didn’t reply. There were no tears to escape your eyes. They had already long dried out. You let out a sigh, but you never let go of his hand.

Maybe it was how the sun rose to the sky, carrying light with it. Maybe it was how the moon sank down below, yielding to the superior being. Maybe it was just the result of faith and months of prayers.

Muichiro’s hand intertwined with yours. The force of this wasn't lost on you. When you looked up, his blue eyes stared back at you, full of life and confusion.

“Muichiro!” You almost hugged him, but you weren’t sure if he was well enough for big commotions. You stood up, shaking from excitement. “Hold on, I’ll call Kanzaki—“

His hand doesn’t let go of you. “Please, stay with me for a while,”

You sit back down, ready to answer any of his questions.

“How long have I been… asleep?” This question, you’ve been anticipating.

“About five months,”

“And the others, what happened?”

You swallow the stone stuck in your throat. “Kokushibo died after you lost consciousness, and, well…”

It was clear from your demeanor, and Muichiro understood and nodded. “So they all died…?”

“Muzan was defeated,” At these words, he turned to you, eyes widened. “Tanjiro and his friends and the water hashira are the only ones left,”

“While I was asleep, huh,” You didn’t know what he meant by that.

“At least you’re here now!” He returned the smile you shot him and pressed your hand to his lips.

“Yes. With you.”

After calling Kanzaki Aoi to have a look at him, she deemed him fully recovered from his wounds. Muichiro expressed sadness when he saw his right leg… or lack thereof, but shrugged it off.

“It was the sacrifice I took to see you again,” He said, and your heart rejoiced at those words.

Tengen Uzui, Kamado Tanjiro and Nezuko, Shinazugawa Sanemi, and Tomioka Giyuu were there to greet him. He was one of the people who risked his lives, so naturally, they rejoiced at his awakening. Tengen Uzui welcomed him into his retired life, and pointed at his missing left hand.

“We’re kind of the same, aren’t we?” He laughs, and Muichiro can only smile at his joke.

Shinazugawa and Tomioka regard him, but only Tomioka brought a gift. It was a sword, as he recounts that his was lost in battle.

“Just for protection,” He reassures Muichiro. He accepts the gifts and thanks him. You secretly hope that he never has to draw that sword in any sort of battle.

Kamado Tanjiro and Nezuko approach him. They were both older than the two of you, and their presence was full of warmth.

“Nezuko, the last I saw you…” Of course, he is dumbfounded. He missed out on a lot while he was asleep, after all.

“I know! It’s nice to talk to you as a human again,”

They don’t see it, but the look of contentment crosses his face.

He is eventually cleared off, and was given a wheelchair to sit in. While crutches were given to him, his other leg had atrophied, so he had to train himself to walk. Almost everyone in the Demon Slayer Corps retired after Muzan was defeated. Although some stayed, to protect the Ubuyashiki family. But that was out of your hands now.

You took him to the house you spent so much time working on. Of course, he was blind-folded, so he would not see the surprise. It was already afternoon, and you were sure that he was hungry, so you had to make this fast.

When you finally take off the blindfold, he stares at the house before him. He is silent, taking in sight.

“You…” He says, after a while. “Built this for us?”

You nod, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he gestures for you to come closer, and you do, waiting for him to say his thoughts. But instead, he grabs on to your kimono and kisses you. When you both pull away, he has a blush on his cheeks.

“Thank you, for everything,”

The both of you go inside, and his stomach rumbles. He doesn’t even try to hide it, as he whispers that he is hungry.

“Just sit tight, okay?” You rush to make lunch. Thankfully, you hadn’t thrown the head of lettuce that you ate the night before, and it was still relatively fresh. You get a pan and make his favorite food. It was chicken stew, complete with side dishes. After an hour, you pop out of the kitchen and set the table. He tries to help, but you disagree.

“You’ve been fighting for your life all this time, it’s the least that I can do.”

He smiles and sits back. He can’t deny the fact that he wants nothing more but to assist you, but he knows how long you’ve been waiting for this moment.

The lunch you prepared for him puts him at ease. It’s a reminder of the things that could be, and things to come. If anything, it reminds him of hope—of home. Of what was once his, but lost to unfortunate events.

As he sips the broth, tears start pouring down his face. He can’t contain himself, he just feels so sentimental that moment. When you see this, a look of worry crosses your face. Was your cooking that bad? But he waves it off, and wipes his cheeks.

“I’m just so happy that you stayed for me,” He admits, and you wonder just how long he was holding that one in.

“Of course I would!” It would not make much sense if you just left him just because he was unwell! But he looks at you with uncertainty. So you hold his hands in yours again. “I love you very much, Muichiro. No matter how long, or whatever happens to you, I’ll always be there for you,”

Something had changed inside him. It was tiny, and no one really noticed it. But you did.

“I love you too, ___,”

You were just so happy to have him back, and even if the future was uncertain, you had him with you. And that was enough.

The sun may have gone down, but you had your own sun in your home.