#Me and my husband staying by the washing machine and talking for hours SO TRUE

[blueflame97]

[morganaspendragonss]

turn to dust all that i adore

whoops it’s a 2b spec fic based on two seconds in a promo love that

title from things we lost in the fire by bastille

ao3 | 2.3k | 2b spoilers

The fire continues raging whenever TK closes his eyes, and he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse than the sight that greets him when his eyes are open. He wishes he could wipe that awful night from his memory completely and go back to where they were just a few days ago, happy and safe and in their home. They don’t even have that anymore, the house little more than ash, and TK would be okay with that - they could rebuild from that - if Carlos weren’t so silent and still in front of him. 

The fire was three days ago; TK hasn’t seen Carlos awake in four. He’d been in the middle of a 24-hour shift when the call came through, bickering with Nancy about the merits of various sitcoms, Captain Vega probably rolling her eyes in the back as they returned to the station. 

Nancy had quietly offered to drive when they found out the address, but TK had shaken his head. His hands were tight on the steering wheel, and he’d pressed down a little harder than necessary on the accelerator, praying he’d be able to get there fast enough. The house was a lost cause, if what dispatch said was true, but if he could save Carlos, then that would be enough.

He’d failed - of course he had. An explosion had ripped through the building just as they’d pulled up, the glass shattering as flames leapt from their bedroom window. TK had felt a cold dread settle inside him, and his worst fears had been confirmed when the team emerged with Carlos limp in their arms.

He’s alive, but the damage had been done. Too much smoke inhalation and multiple horrific burns left him hanging by a thread; it’s a miracle, really, that the heart monitor is still beeping out a steady rhythm. TK can’t be thankful, though, not when he knows everything could turn on its head in an instant. Not when they’ve already lost so much.

A soft knock on the door grabs TK’s attention. He looks up to see his dad standing there, a sad smile on his face and a plastic-wrapped sandwich in hand. TK twists his face into a grimace and returns to watching the bed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Son -”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve been saying that for days,” his dad points out, walking over and pointedly laying the sandwich in TK’s lap. “Starving yourself isn’t going to make him wake up any faster.”

TK barely spares the sandwich a cursory glance. “Nor is forcing myself to eat.”

His dad sighs, crossing the room and grabbing the extra chair. He sets it down next to TK’s and, though he doesn’t look, TK knows he’s being subjected to one of his ‘dad looks’.

“TK, you’ve barely left the hospital since it happened,” he says. “I know it’s hard right now, but you can always come back and stay with me. You still have a home.”

“Not without him, I don’t.”

He hears his dad’s sharp intake of breath, feels his hand running through his hair, but TK’s detached from it all. He studies Carlos’s face, every part familiar to him, but so strange and foreign now. Carlos has never been a restless sleeper - that’s all TK - but there’s usually some movement. A crease appearing between his brows as his face scrunches up, his muscles shifting as he pulls TK closer, his nose gently nuzzling the back of TK’s neck. This still version of him isn’t Carlos. This isn’t the man TK loves.

But it’s close as he’s going to get until Carlos comes back to him, and TK can’t stand the thought of leaving him. In all the months they’ve been dating, they’ve rarely spent a night apart, and most of those were either on shift or still in their bed, with a pillow that smelt like the other and the promise of seeing each other again soon. Going back to his dad’s house would only be bearable if Carlos were with him, but that’s not possible, so neither is leaving.

“TK, I -”

“If you’re just here to give me this,” he interrupts, waving the sandwich in his dad’s direction, “then, thanks, but you should probably go now. His parents are coming in a bit and the hospital barely lets three of us be in here as it is.”

His dad recoils, wounded, but doesn’t budge, much to TK’s irritation. He’s really not in the mood for any more meaningless talk or thinly veiled attempts to get him to eat or sleep.

“Dad, please.”

“I was contacted by the PD this morning,” his dad says instead. TK’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “They found out what caused the fire.”

TK waits, but his dad suddenly becomes very reticent, his eyes flicking between TK and the bed. Clearly, this wasn’t something as simple as the electrics blowing or the washing machine malfunctioning; it’s worse, and TK’s breath seems to stick in his lungs.

“Dad?” he croaks.

Their eyes finally meet, his dad’s face arranged into a sympathetic grimace. “It was arson.”

Time stops.

“What?” TK breathes, shaking his head. Arson. Someone burned their home down and almost killed Carlos, on purpose. And for what? To kill them? The only reason TK wasn’t caught up in it too, after all, is because he was fortunate enough to be on shift that night. “Do they know who?”

“I’m sorry,” his dad says, voice full of regret. “It’s been happening all over the city, no leads so far.”

TK sits back in his chair, a white-hot spark of anger flashing through him as he once more takes in the many bandages on Carlos’s body. He wonders if this was how Judd felt those weeks ago when he found out the guy who’d run them off the bridge was also in the hospital, because TK would very much like to go out and find the people who did this. He wants them to pay for what they’ve done to the love of his life.

As is sensing where his mind has gone, his dad starts rubbing gentle circles on his back, though it doesn’t calm TK like it usually does.

“I think I’ll stay here until his parents show up,” he says. “If that’s alright?”

It’s a non-question; his tone makes it clear that he’s not going anywhere no matter what, but TK doesn’t have it in him to put up even a token argument. He simply nods wearily, and settles in for another day of waiting - another day without his boyfriend’s comforting presence at his side.

*

A week after the fire, he’s told he can go back to the house, if he wants. He doesn’t, really, but he goes anyway, knowing that Carlos will have questions when he wakes up, and maybe he’ll be able to salvage something.

Probably not, but it’s never been the stuff that’s mattered to him. It’s been what the loss of it all represents, the memories that now exist only in his head and in the ashes.

TK stares up at the blackened husk of their home, something keeping him rooted in the middle of the street. Police tape is still up and there��s an officer waiting to escort him in when he’s ready, but TK just… He doesn’t know if he can do this.

“TK?”

He jumps at the unexpected voice, turning to see Carlos’s neighbour from two doors down, Molly, her daughter trailing behind her. TK doesn’t know many of the people around here, but Molly and her husband are often to be found playing with Lilia on the porch, and they always make a point of greeting them. Carlos has even babysat for them a few times, though TK’s rarely there for that.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, smiling apologetically. “How are you doing?”

He shrugs. “I’m okay,” he replies, and Molly seems to understand what that really means. “Carlos is still in hospital, but we’re, um. We’re hoping he’ll wake up soon.”

She nods, glancing at the house. “It’s terrible, what happened. You’ve got somewhere to stay, right?”

“I’ve only just moved out of my dad’s place, so I’ll just go back there while we figure something out. Guess he’ll be glad we don’t have to transport all my stuff this time.”

The joke is hollow, and Molly’s face twists in sympathy. “Well, if you need anything, we’re happy to help out however we can. Carlos has always been good to us - to everyone here - and we hate that you’re going through this now. Send him our love, okay?”

TK gives her a small smile, nodding. He’s about to excuse himself to finally go inside, when Lilia tugs at her mother’s hand, whispering something in her ear when Molly leans down. 

“We were baking when we saw you pull up,” Molly explains, straightening. “Lilia insisted on bringing these out to you, didn’t you, Lils?”

Lilia beams up at him when TK looks over to her, thrusting a small tupperware in his general direction. “Cookies!” she exclaims, by way of explanation.

TK chuckles and squats so he’s at her height, taking the box from her. She’s watching him expectantly, so he takes a cookie - clumsily decorated with mountains of sprinkles - and pops it in his mouth, making a show of enjoying it.

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, licking his lips playfully. Lilia giggles, then, without warning, throws her arms around him, the force of it almost sending him on his ass. Molly gasps and reaches to pull her daughter away, but TK shakes his head at her, mouthing an, It’s okay.

Steadying himself, he gently wraps his arms around Lilia’s back, allowing her to bury her face in the crook of his neck as she attempts to squeeze him within an inch of his life. It’s enough to pull a real smile out of him, though tears also spring to his eyes, a sudden emotion overwhelming him. He brushes them away hastily when Lilia unwraps herself from him, but it’s clear that Molly noticed, judging by the sad smile on her face.

“I hope Mr Carlos gets better soon,” Lilia says, her voice earnest in a way only a five-year old’s can be. 

TK nods. “Me too.”

“He gave me sweets.”

A laugh bursts out of him at the sudden comment. TK leans close to her, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Shall I tell you a secret? He gave me sweets as well.”

Lilia gasps as though she’s heard something incredibly scandalous. TK laughs again, before standing back up and turning to Molly, who’s been watching the two of them with clear amusement.

“Thank you,” he tells her. “For coming out and talking, and for the cookies.”

“It’s the least we could do,” she says, waving him off. “Like I said, let us know if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk. We’ll be there.”

TK thanks her again, waving at them both as they head back inside. He turns to his and Carlos’s place, then takes a deep, shaky breath.

He can do this.

*

Inside is much as he expects. The worst of the rubble has been cleared, but there’s still some detritus lying around, including a few of their things. TK stoops and carefully retrieves a framed photo from the floor, wiping the dust off the cracked glass. The picture inside is barely recognisable, the colours warped, but he knows the image like the back of his hand - a candid of him and Carlos taken by Marjan during one of their hangs. She’d caught Carlos mid-laugh, a grin plastered on TK’s own face as they’d stared into each others’ eyes.

Marjan had grumbled about how frustratingly lovesick they both were, but the photo quickly became one of TK’s favourites, and it had made its way into a frame less than a week later. TK’s heart aches at the sight of it ruined; he can always print another as it’s still saved on his phone, but it still hurts. Everything does, right now.

As he gazes around the space, eyes catching on mementos and remembering how it all used to look, TK is struck by how much this place had felt like home. He’s only been officially living here for a month, but it’s been theirs for far longer than that, TK’s stuff worming its way in among Carlos’s until it became natural to see two pairs of shoes by the door, two sets of keys in the bowl. 

This was theirs, and now it’s nothing.

He drops the photo frame on his way out the door, not sparing a look back as he walks away.

*

He gets the call halfway back to the hospital and TK forgets all about speed limits as he races the rest of the way. He sprints through the corridors, the path to Carlos’s room learned by heart, and skids to a stop in the doorway, his eyes filling with tears at the sight before him.

Carlos, awake and smiling and alive.

TK lets out a sob, his hand flying to his mouth. Carlos turns, his smile widening when he catches sight of him, and he wordlessly lifts his palm up in invitation.

And who is TK to refuse it?

“Hi, baby,” he gasps, before kissing his boyfriend, palms framing Carlos’s face. Carlos’s hands come up to clutch at his wrists, and TK presses their foreheads together, silently revelling in this moment.

There’s a long road still ahead of them - Carlos needs to heal, and they’ll have to do so much to get back on their feet - but he can’t care about that right now. Being here, right now, with Carlos’s warm touch stroking over his skin, is all TK needs.

Carlos came back to him, and that’s the only thing that matters.

[inquisitive-mess]

A Slice of Happiness Part 3

Including Sibylle of Cleves by @blackdiamondwrites127 and Katherine Tudor by @ellielovesdrawing.

Mention of Jane Paker by @altairtalisman

T/W: Hint of Past Trauma and Abuse

Sibylle and Ann soon reach a nice gated neighborhood after taking the Tube. Ann didn't realize how tall Sibylle was until they went on train where she saw how uncomfortable Sibylle was while sitting. Ann try her best to help her out, but there was only so much she can do inside train car. This made Ann feel bad because she usually takes this whenever she works late since she doesn't bring her vehicle often to work due to parking issues. Once they arrived at their stop and got off the train, Sibylle was finally free from her torment and stretch a little before walking out of the station as Ann trail behind her. Ann try to apologize, but Sibylle stop her before she can and told her that she chose to take the Underground known the consequence of it. She also explained that it would be whole lot cheaper than getting a ride from one of those ride sharing companies, where they have to pay extra to get a larger vehicle to accommodate her height and doesn't like them for to GPS reason and them knowing where she lived. Ann completely understand where Sibylle is coming from.

Sibylle soon walk to a stand that had a keypad on it near in front of the gate, punch in a codes, the gates doors begin opening, and both went through it as they head to her house. Ann look around the area as she was walking and started to thinking about how nice this place was. It was quiet and sees that everyone who was living here has some form of privacy. She really does like it, but she really prefers where she lives. It true it isn't gated neighborhood, but she likes the open space she has at her house because it's easier to look up at the sky at night and she has more privacy due to her neighbor's properties being a little far part from each other. They soon arrived at Sibylle's house and walk up to the door. Sibylle then pull out her keys, push one of the keys inside the keyhole to turn it, pull it out, turn the doorknob to open the door, and both walk inside the house. Ann closed the door behind her as Sibylle said " Babe, I'm home." A russian bear dog and a tibetan mastiff came running out and Sibylle kneel down to let them give her some affection. Ann was mostly surprised by the size of dogs because she hasn't dogs this big and wonder if this was normal. Sibylle soon got up and told her " This is Oz and Killjoy. These are our pets and part of the family. We have white cat too named Malky." Kath then came out from a room, head to Sibylle, and gave each other a kiss. Ann stood silent as she watch them and their love kind of remind her of the love she had with her husband long ago. They broke a way from each other and Kath talk " I'm glad you guys got here safely. I was going to say what took you guys when I remembered that took you to work today because your bike was giving you some trouble this morning and your friend told you when you took it his place that it isn't going to be ready until tomorrow. Did Ann drive you guys here or got a ride from someone?" Ann answer " I don't usually bring my vehicle to work, so we took the Tube. I pay for Siby ticket, since I have a travel card. It's the least I can do for what happen and to make up for making Sibylle endure the discomfort she had riding it." Sibylle then said " Which I already told you that it was my decision to take it and how I don't trust those ride sharing companies at all. Plus it wasn't too bad once you get in the right position and I dealt with worse." Kath smiled as she listened and told Ann " I got your change of clothes ready. Let me go get them while you put your dessert in the fridge." Kath leave them and Sibylle escort Ann to the kitchen with Oz and Killjoy following them.

Once Ann put her dessert in the fridge, Kath came back with couple of clothes in her hands, and told Ann as she hand them to her " I got you some shirts of mine to try on, since I didn't know which one would fit you and Ibby clothes would be too big on you." Ann nod and said " Thank you. Where is bathroom, so I can change?" Sibylle answer " Down the hall on your right." Ann heard Sibylle, nodded, and head to it. When she got there, she open the door to walk inside, turn on the light, and lock the door behind her. She place the shirts on the counter, start taking her jacket off, then her shirt, fold them, and place them on the other side of the counter. She went to sink, turn the bathroom faucet to release some water, and begin washing her face. Once she was done, she wipe her face on a towel to dry it and went on trying one of the shirts. The first shirt she try was too short for her making like she had a crop top on and was exposing her discoloration skin on her lower back area. She should of figure it would be difficult for her since Kath was lot smaller than her and wouldn't fit her properly. She took it off, place it on the side, and went on to the next shirt. Each shirt she tried on, she felt more nervous seeing each one of them not fitting her correctly and exposing her discoloration. She didn't want them to know about it because then they would ask questions and she don't want talk it, since it only brought back bad memories of her time in the orphanage and don't want them to see her breakdown completely. The reason Jane knows about it is due the rainstorm they got caught up in and knew Jane wasn't going to say anything about it being that they are in same boat with their guilt of the past. Ann was at the last shirt in the pile and this scared her the most seeing that she doesn't have anymore attempts to hide it. She slowly put it on and expecting it not to fit her when she saw it covered her body completely. She looked at herself in the mirror and move her body and arms around a bit to see if it will show any skin on her lower body area. When it didn't, she smile as her worries slowly dissolve, folded the other shirts that didn't fit, open the bathroom door, grab her clothes and others in each hand, turn off the light using her elbow, and walk out of it to head to where Sibylle and Kath was.

When Ann arrived at the sitting room, Sibylle just got done explaining to Kath what happened to them and why Ann was staying the night as they were sitting on the couch next to each with Oz and Killjoy laying on the floor. Kath said to Sibylle " That's crazy. I can't believe that happen to you guys. Thank goodness those officers were there to take that man away." Kath noticed Ann was done changing and said " Look like that shirt fit you perfectly. I had that shirt for awhile now and it was always too big for me to wear. I try giving to Ibby, but it was too tight for her. You have it since I'm not going wear it." Ann look down at her shirt and told Kath " Thanks" Kath then said " And I would to say thanks you for stopping the situation between Ibby and the older man. She told me that she would of hit him, if it had escalated and would of been arrested too. I would hate to see her lock up and be with other terrible people. Not saying she can't defend herself, because she know shit." Ann chuckle a little as she saw Kath got nervous at the end and Sibylle told her" Babe, Ann already know a bit of my past." Ann answer " And that was one of the reasons why I wanted to stopping it." Kath sighed out of relief thinking she may have exposed something about Sibylle's past she didn't want people to know about and was happy that Ann was okay with it. Kath knows how personal Sibylle gets whenever someone mentions her past choices and knew Sibylle was trying to be a better person.

Once they were done talking, Kath got up and ask them" Have you guys eat anything? I can whip up something really quick." Ann told Kath " No, it's okay. You don't need to do that. I ate something earlier before Siby came to my shop." It was kind of the truth since she did eat lunch, but that was roughly six hours ago. Ann was a little hungry, but she didn't want to bother them anymore than she already have. It bad enough that this whole evening Ann has cause nothing but trouble for Sibylle and now Kath. Sibylle already knew Ann was lying due to fact that she started to understand Ann personally and how defensive she can be. She also knew it isn't going to be easy to convince her to eat something. Kath used her obverseation skill as she look at Ann and saw all of signs that Ann was lying. She also notices that Ann seem to be the type who would put up a fight if asked directly, so she have to try a different way to persuade Ann. Kath smiled and said " Okay, but I'm going you make some anyway, since you are a guest in this house and not going let you eat nothing. Ibby can you show Ann the bedroom she going be sleeping in while I'm cooking something small for you guys." Ann was ready to protest when Sibylle already wrap one of her arm behind Ann and begin guiding her to the room. Sibylle told Ann as they were walking " Just to let you know, Kath can tell when someone is lying to her, so there no point on hiding it because you're not going to win this fight." Ann sighed softly when she heard this and Sibylle saw her reaction which she then said " And if you thinking that you are being a bother, you're not. We want you to eat and feel relaxed here especially what kind of day you had. Plus it would make Kath feel happy that she being a good hostess, since we don't get a lot of people visiting us." Ann heard all this and made her a little nervous about it.

They arrived at the room and Sibylle open the door to it, which was nice simple room with a bed, bedside table, table lamp, and small chest. Ann walking inside it and look around it see that she kind of like it while Sibylle lean on the side of the doorframe watching her. Sibylle then ask Ann " Do you want me put your clothes in the washing machine while you are here?" Ann shook her head and answer " Thanks for offer, but I can wait until I get home to wash them. You can get me a bag to put it in though and tell me where to place these clothes. You guys have done enough for me already." Sibylle nodded, grab the spare from Ann showing her that she will take care of it, left for a bit, and came back with a plastic bag to hand to Ann. Ann took it, open it up to place her shirt and jacket in, tie it up,and place her bagged clothes on table. Once Ann put the bag on the table, Ann ask " Siby" She turn her head to Sibylle and continue " Are you sure it's really okay for me to spend the night here? I would understand if you doing all this because you still believe that you owe me for the laptop and my injuries that you accidentally caused me." The truth was that Ann has been nervous the moment she got here. That why she trying so hard not accepting anything and hasn't said much because she's worry that she made do something wrong and they hate her for it. Ann also believes that the reason Sibylle is doing all this was because the debt Sibylle made for herself for Ann. Sibylle could see Ann uncertainty in her face and was ready to answer her when they heard Kath telling them dinner was ready. Sibylle walk up to Ann with a small smile and told her " Let's go. We don't want to keep Kath waiting." Sibylle soon walking away leaving Ann to herself which cause to think maybe that the reason why she was being generous to her. Ann soon follow and head to the kitchen. Unknown to Ann, what she had said to Sibylle in the room made her start to think about why Ann thought this and wonder if there was a reason behind it.

When Ann got the kitchen, Kath told Ann to go to table where Ibby was sitting at and she will serve them. Ann acknowledged, head to where Sibylle was, and sat down across from her. Ann wait patiently as wait for Kath while Sibylle looked at Ann thinking what she said to her and wonder if Ann really though that. It's true that Sibylle does want to repay back Ann for everything she done and for accidently decking her, but she also does want to be friends with her. Sibylle though she was doing everything right and was trying to be her friend, but after hearing what Ann said, Sibylle knew that there was a missing piece in this and she need figure out what it was. Kath soon came with the meal and place them in front of them. Kath smile and told them " Hope you like it. I want to do something simple since it is late at night." Ann took one look at the meal and everything inside her crash down. It was box macaroni and cheese and Ann didn't absolutely nothing, but stare at it as Sibylle thanking Kath and begin eating it as Kath left to clean up. This is the one meal in her adolescent life that she didn't think she would ever see again because all she can remember was her being all alone in the orphanage eating this when it was cold and mixed together with other foods that was left behind after the children had their meal. Her meals were made of the scrapes of whatever meal was prepared for the children that day. She wasn't allowed to saying anything about it because that resulted her losing the meal and be thrown away in front of her leaving her hungry all day or the evening. Ann try her very best not react to it when she saw this and wanted to eating it to make Kath happy, but the memories of the past was stopping her from doing that. Sibylle quickly notice this and try to call Ann out, but Ann got so deep in her memories that Sibylle got up, stretched her arm out, and place her hand on her shoulder, which snap Ann out of it. Ann look up at Sibylle once this happen and Sibylle asked " Are you alright?" Ann look down at her food for a bit before looking back up at Sibylle and answer her" Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry about that. The meal just bought back some memories, that all." Sibylle sat back down and was relieved that Ann was okay, but it make her wonder what just happen. She remembered Ann had a similar look when they went to zoo and when she was at her shop. It was when look their meal when something click in Sibylle's mind. Was it macaroni and cheese? Did something happen in Ann's past that was the result to it? Sibylle wasn't completely sure, but she did want to help her by easing her mind a little, so she can eat something and told her" Hey Ann, if you want something different. I'm sure Kath has no problem making it and I can eat this, so it doesn't go to waste."

As soon as Sibylle grab Ann's plate with her hand, Ann quickly grab Sibylle wrist with her hand, which caught Sibylle completely off guard, and said quietly as she let go of Sibylle's wrist slowly " Sorry" Ann quickly compose herself, so she can answer Sibylle. After calming herself, she replied "It's okay, Siby, I can eat this. No reason to bother Kath with some trivial." Ann soon pick up her utensil and begin eating her meal. It was bad as she remembered it, but can a least say it taste better warm than cold. Sibylle would of call out Ann for what just happen, but she took this as she may have overstepped Ann's boundaries when trying to take her food away from her without warning, which cause her to be defensive. She would done something similar, if someone did that to her. They both stay quietly as they ate their meal didn't know what to say to break the ice. Kath got done cleaning and went back to the table where Sibylle and Ann sitting only to see the death silent between them. Kath didn't know what happened when she was gone, but she need to do something to brighten up the mood. She sat next to Sibylle and ask Ann " Ibby told me that you own a small electronic shop where you fixed anything that's electronic and rebuild computers. That must be fun job to do." Both Ann and Sibylle can tell Kath was at least trying to lighten up the mood, so Ann answer " Yeah, it kind of is. I do enjoy fixing things and do custom order for my customers." Sibylle was little happy with Kath that this was working and started to make Ann feel comfortable. Kath continued " Ibby also told me that you were the one who made her current laptop. She used her laptop all the time and tell me how much she loved it, especially how you got her loved for Wicked." Ann scratch behind her head and try be humble since she not use to getting all of this compliments. Ann said " It was nothing. I just saw her old one was was on it last leg and want to help out. That all." Kath then said "And you must be smart considering that you help out the students and professors in surrounding universities and colleges with their needs. I bet your parents must be proud of you." This is where everything crashed completely and dim the mood heavily. Ann already finished with her meal got up from the table and said emotionless " I'm going head to bed. I got work in the morning. Thanks for everything." Ann begin walking away when Sibylle grab her wrist to stop her, but Ann just gave her a look, which Sibylle knew all to well, and she let go of her. Kath then try stopping Ann and try to convince her to stay, so she can apologize, but Sibylle stop her and told her that Ann need time to herself. Ann continue walking until she was the spare bedroom and closed the door behind.

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[realm-sweet-realm]

Sanctuary

Request from Threadedsafetypin: a story about Jack helping Sammy to recover from ink infection.

---

Most members of the Joey Drew Studios music room knew that Sammy behaving strangely was status quo. So, when was Sammy first infected with ink, few people were alarmed. Complaining about seeing Bendy in his sleep? Stress. Increased irritability? Stress. Spacing out more often, seeming more exhausted, looking more drawn and bedraggled than usual? Poor guy really has to get a grip on his life- but at least he’s still functioning well enough to get the songs out on time.

Jack Fain, Sammy’s best friend, was the only one who realized that this wasn’t just one of Sammy’s episodes. He’d confronted Sammy about it a couple weeks ago, and it hadn’t gone well. He had snapped about his health being his own business and told Jack to go away.

Jack was used to Sammy being irritable, so he didn’t take it personally. “Okay. I can’t help you if you’re not ready. Just know that I’m here for you when you’re ready to talk. I care about you, and want you to be okay. Alright?”

Sammy had grumbled an “alright,” and left. His symptoms had only worsened since then, and Jack was rather worried that Sammy would never be “ready”- at least, not until he was very ill. But he couldn’t think of any way to help the process along unless Sammy was on board as well.

Then, one day while Jack was working in the sewers, he heard footsteps. Only Sammy knew that he hid away in the sewers, so it had to be him. Jack got up to meet him, and saw that Sammy had a defeated look on his face.

“Remember when you said to come to you when I was ready? Well, I’m ready,” Sammy said, as though admitting a dark secret. He took off the white gloves he’d taken to wearing lately, revealing ink-black hands. “The ink did this to me, and tried to convince me that it was a good thing, but I can’t deny that this is a problem anymore. I don’t think that a hospital could help me, and I’m scared that Joey would kill me if it got out the public. I don’t know what to do.”

Jack stood stunned a moment, looking at Sammy’s hands. They clearly weren’t just stained, but tainted down to the bone. It looked like there were some pockets of ink just beneath the surface as well.

“It’s okay. I’ll find out what to do,” Jack promised.

---

“Norman, can you come with me for a minute?” Jack asked. “I need to ask Mr. Drew something he won’t enjoy answering, and I’m hoping that if you’re there next to me, he won’t kill me on the spot for it. Alright? All you’ll have to do is stand there. And you’ll probably get some nice secrets out of it.”

Excited at the thought of listening in on such a conversation, Norman agreed, and the two of them made their way to Joey’s office. The door shut loudly.

“Joey,” Jack began, in a tone one might use to calm down a wild animal, “someone I care deeply about is infected with ink. Now look- I don’t want trouble. I don’t have any personal reason to want your secrets to get out. Please tell me how to help him get better, and I’ll do it completely inconspicuously if it’s possible.”

---

“What did he say?” Sammy asked. The look on Jack’s face wasn’t especially encouraging.

“Well, he said that a hospital can help you- if we take you a couple miles from New York, first. He said that the ink is alive in you, and it needs to be taken away from the ink machine in order to kill it. If we don’t do that, the ink will live in you no matter what anyone tries to do to get rid of it, and you’ll be in and out of treatment for the rest of your life- which would likely be a very short, unhealthy one. So, that isn’t an option.”

Sammy didn’t understand why Jack looked so hopeless at the thought of killing the ink. “Okay,” Sammy said cautiously, “That sounds doable. What else?”

“Well, the thing is that once the ink is dead, it won’t be able to help keep you alive, so all that tissue damage, organ damage, and dehydration is actually going to hurt you. Joey gave me some tips on how to increase the chance that you’ll end up at the hospital alive, but it’s still possible you won’t make it.”

Sammy was in shock. “I-I might die before I make it the hospital?”

“Yes. Joey said that you should go home and eat something with a lot of liquid in it. I take it you physically haven’t been able to drink anything but ink in a while, have you?”

“It’s been a few weeks,” Sammy admitted.

“He also said that we should lance any obvious deposits of ink before we head out. I can help you with the lancing. And... one last thing, Sammy?”

“Yes?”

“I quit this place, because it’s dripping with a deadly biohazard. I definitely suggest you do the same- especially if you’re in the habit of drinking ink, which Joey said you might be.”

Sammy sucked in a deep breath. “Please tell me that’s everything.”

“That’s everything.”

“Alright. Thank you, Jack. Honestly, thank you.”

The two went to Jack’s place, and with a knife, they set to work lancing any obvious deposits of ink. Sammy had them all over- on his legs, on his chest, his back, and some fairly severe ones on his hands. One by one, they were cut open, squeezed out, and bandaged. By the end, Sammy was in a lot of pain, and Jack’s bathtub was stained not only with substantial amounts of ink, but with a fair amount of blood.

“I don’t feel stronger,” Sammy admitted, looking down with his arms crossed over himself. “What if Joey gave us this advice to trick you into killing me? Or he didn’t understand how far along I was?”

Jack sighed. He’d made a good point, honestly. But Sammy needed comfort. “He didn’t lie. I’m sure of it. Just trust me, alright?”

“Alright,” Sammy replied.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” Jack asked, “It might help you dread tomorrow a little less.”

“Are you sure you want me here? I’ll get ink and blood all over the place.”

“You will? Then we haven’t bandaged you up enough- you shouldn’t be leaking like that. And anyhow, don’t worry about it- it’s just one night, I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

Sammy agreed to stay over, though all he wanted to do was wash off and rest. The next day, the two of them headed out of New York in Jack’s car.

“Alright, Sammy, you know the drill. Tell me when you feel the ink dying, and I’ll turn the car around as quickly as possible.”

Sammy nodded. It was only a few miles before he did.

“Now,” Sammy croaked. He was already looking greener. Jack found a place to turn around and took it. 

 “Everything hurts...” Sammy complained. It was true. He felt weak and heavy, as though a large percentage of his body had suddenly become dead weight. His lungs stung, and when his breathing was wet and slightly laboured. Pain was building in his head, in the cuts he’d given himself the day before, and especially in his organs. 

“It’ll be okay, Sammy. I promise. Just hang in there, and drink some water.” 

Though it was hardly his most overpowering sensation, Sammy was very thirsty. Jack watched with concern as Sammy took one of water bottles in weak, shaky hands, took a sip from it, and then fell forwards, entirely limp.

 Jack slammed his foot on the gas pedal. He was going about 85 miles an hour, and he mentally calculated that he’d need about eight minutes to get Sammy to the outskirts of town and hopefully not too much longer to get him to a hospital. Risky as it was, Jack grabbed Sammy’s hand to check for a pulse. It was certainly there. A cop by the side of the road saw them, but let them go by- perhaps seeing that Jack was hardly doing this for pleasure. Thankfully, traffic was thin that day. Jack checked Sammy’s pulse again while at a stop sign- still strong, and pulled up in front of a hospital. He ran in, pushed his way past a line of people, and spoke to the secretary. “My friend is in my car. He’s unconscious and I have reason to believe that he needs immediate attention if he’s going to live. Please help him.” 

Within a minute, Sammy was being rushed in for medical attention, leaving Jack to wait in the lobby and fill out the necessary forms. Hours later, a nurse approached him. “You’re Jack Fain, the one who brought in Sammy Lawrence?”

 “Yes,” Jack answered.

“Well, Mr. Fain, we have some serious questions for you. What happened to Sammy? His condition isn’t exactly easy to identify.”

“His workplace is filled with a biohazard. He got infected and kept it secret for weeks. How is he? Is his condition stable?”

The nurse grimaced. “Stable, yes. He’s on life support, but we’ll be able to keep him alive. We’re not sure when or if he’ll wake up again since we haven’t been able to diagnose. Would you like to see him?”

“Sure,” Jack replied.

Seeing Sammy laying still as a corpse on a hospital bed, with three different IVs in his arm, a tube in his throat, and the beep of a heart monitor nearby, was not an encouraging sight. It moved Jack to tears. “Call me when he’s up. Or when it’s time to say goodbye,” Jack croaked to the nurse. With that, he left.

Jack spent the next few days fraught with anxiety. To make matters worse, the hospital had called Jack to ask where Sammy had worked and gotten infected. Jack had said he didn’t know, because he didn’t want to risk either of them being killed by Joey for leaking his secrets. If Sammy died, he’s have to wonder if it was partially on his own hands. Jack’s husband tried to reassure him that he’d done all that could be done, and Jack knew it was true, but it was still a scary time.

In what felt like weeks but was actually just a couple days, the hospital called Jack and told him that Sammy’s tissue damage seemed to be repairing itself and that he was responding well to treatment. Thankfully, none of his organs had been damaged enough to require a transplant. A week later, he was called to tell him that Sammy was awake again.

Seeing Sammy again was a massive weight off Jack’s shoulders. The dark spots on his body had shrunk significantly, and he looked much healthier, especially now that most of those tubes and wires were gone.

“Sammy. You’re alive.”

“Yep. I must be part cockroach because it takes quite a bit to kill me.”

Jack smiled. “Ha, yeah. The radio is calling you a walking miracle. Even though probably haven’t walked yet, since you just woke up.”

Sammy prickled. “No, I can walk. I’m not that weak!”

“Right, sorry. So, when you woke up, did they pepper you with questions on how you got into this state in the first place?”

Sammy took a quick look around the room to make sure no one was listening in. “Well, they asked me where I worked. I told them it was an ink manufacturing plant that I didn’t remember the name of. I think they bought it. Why, are people pestering you about it?”

“No. But I’ve been hearing about the investigation on the radio. They all want to know about the man who who somehow got several pounds of ink into his system and lived. As far as I can tell, no one suspects a thing about our old workplace, or magic. I think we’re free of it, buddy. I don’t think Joey is ever going to be in our lives again.”

Now Sammy looked like a weight had been lifted from him. “I had no idea how badly I needed to hear that until now.”

Over the coming weeks, Jack regularly visited Sammy in the hospital. He looked stronger every time Jack saw him. The news story died down without much fanfare. Sammy got out with a clean bill of health, and Joey Drew Studios gradually became a distant memory to them.

[baseballbitch116]

Stay At Camp(1.2)

Your Walking Dead - Daryl Dixon Interactive Love Story

Introduction: Follow along on your journey with Daryl and the others throughout the series... You choose your actions... Will you end up with Daryl? YOU have the power to decide that!

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Setting: Atlanta camp - before Rick has joined (S1E2-3)

Word Count: 3263

Series Warnings: Gore, violence, strong language, potentially triggering content, sexual themes, death, mentions of drug/alcohol consumption and abuse...

Chapter Warnings: Violence, gore, death, strong language, angst,

A/N: I’d just like to note that I used a lot of true dialogue from the show, which does not belong to me; however, Y/N and the rest of the writing does.

Masterlist

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“What’s going on?” You ask Glenn as he passes you. “Going on a run. Wanna come?” He asks, stopping and turning to look at you.

You had never gone with them on a run before, what exactly do you do? Would you just get in the way? But then again, you’ve been wanting to find a way to pull your weight… What should you do?

~~~

“Uhh, nah... I’ll stay back.” You respond with uncertainty. You feel slightly guilty, but you just don’t think that you’re ready to go out there just yet. Glenn nods and shoots you a reassuring smile before turning and heading toward the others. With a sigh, you head the opposite way to help out with some cleaning.

Your mind is preoccupied for most of the remainder of the day, wandering between your insecurities or fears, sometimes to different terrible scenarios that could be taking place on that run. Trying to keep yourself busy was the only was that you managed to stay sane - so that was what you did. You helped Amy clean and gut the fish her and her sister caught earlier in the day, tidied up the RV, helped Shane gather firewood, asked Carol to try to teach you how to sew, and even assisted the kids with homework - seeing as you were recently graduated from college with a degree in education.

The day drug by slowly, but eventually the sun set and everyone gathered around the fire Shane set up in to eat. It was a simple meal of canned beans and canned soup, each of you getting small portions in order to feed everyone. You sat beside Amy as you spooned at your food, listening to Dale explain his reasoning behind adjusting his watch every morning. You lent against the log that the others sat on, not overly concerned with dirtying your shorts, as you and the women wash clothes every morning.

This certainly wasn’t a meal that you would have eaten a few weeks ago - not only did beans and soup not go together, but you really steered clear of the weird mushy food. You wished you had a nice cheeseburger or bowl of Fettuccine right now - but that was a luxury that no longer existed. It was not easy to cook meals in a pot over a fire, with minimal ingredients and two dozen people to feed.

You chuckle as Dale finishes his story, taking one more spoonful of the beans into your mouth as you listen to the others speak. Your eyes wandered to Carol and her family gathered around their own smaller fire off to the side - grimacing at the sight. You liked Carol and Sophia a lot - but Ed was another story. The man wanted nothing to do with the rest of the group, contributed less than nothing, and was very obviously abusive toward his wife. You also took notice of the fact that once again, Daryl was not here.

Typically, Daryl would bring back whatever he killed, cook it up and take his plate off to his tent to eat alone. You had not seen him eat alongside the rest of the group before, it made you curious. Why did he insist on being alone? Today, he was still out hunting, having only returned for an hour or so earlier before heading back into the woods. You couldn’t help but worry - he was alone in the woods in the night. Still, it wasn’t your place to worry. The man had probably spoken a total of two words to you since meeting him - if that - you were by no means friends.

You are drawn out of your thoughts when you spot Shane standing up, approaching Ed and Carol over at their fire. Some of the group watch as the others try to mind their business as Shane asks Ed to keep the fire low, so they can’t be seen from far away. You clench your spoon as you see the man tell Carol to remove the log that he just tossed into the fire - watching as Shane stomps it out and thanks Carol, bidding her and Sophia a good night. You liked Shane - he was a pretty good guy to lead this group.

-

The next day goes by relatively the same as the one before, with the exception that the others never returned from the run. Typically, they would be gone from morning until close to sun down, which worried everyone immensely. Amy was panicking and demanding that they go out to try to find her sister, but Shane refused. You could see both sides, feeling bad for Amy but understanding Shane’s reasoning. You tried to reassure her that they were probably fine, but the younger girl wouldn’t hear any of it.

Not long before sundown, you heard the sound of an alarm blaring through the hills. Shane jumped up from where he sat cleaning his shotgun, Lori pausing in trimming Carl’s hair as she followed after him. You tried to spot where the sound was coming from, but you could not see anything. “Talk to me Dale!” Shane shouts at the older man on watch atop the RV. He is looking out with binoculars, trying to pin point what was approaching. “Can’t tell yet.”

“Is it them? Are they back?” Amy asks anxiously. You place a hand on her back to try to comfort her, your heart pounding as you anticipate what is coming.

“I’ll be damned.” Dale mutters.

“What is it?” She demands.

“Stolen car is my guess.” He replies, dropping the binoculars as the red car comes into view.

Everyone gathered around camp when the car pulled up. Shane was furious that Glenn pulled up to camp in a red sports car, laughing excitedly as its alarm shrilled.

“Holy crap, turn that damn thing off!” Dale shouts at Glenn as he grins.

“I don’t know how!” He hollers with his arms open. Shane taps the hood impatiently, asking him to pop the hood as Amy bombards Glenn with questions over the loudness of the car.

“Pop the damn hood please!”

“Is she alright?! Is she okay? Where is she?!”

“Yes! They’re all okay! Well... Merle not so much.”

“Are you crazy driving this wailing bastard up here - you trynna draw every walker for miles?!” Shane exclaims, leaning on the open hood after he shuts the alarm off.

“I think we’re okay.” Dale mutters. You run a hand through your greasy hair as you wrap your head around everything. Everyone’s okay except Merle? Why was Glenn driving this in the first place?

“You call being stupid okay?” Shane asks, shooting a look over his shoulder at Dale.

“That alarm was echoing all over these hills - hard to pin point the source. Shane stands and places his hands on his hips, giving Dale a look. You can’t help but admire how he looks for a moment - his blue button down shirt with the top buttons undone, exposing his chest. His cargo pants were snug on his long legs and his black hair was disheveled from running his large hands through it so frequently. If it weren’t for Lori...

“I’m not arguing, I’m just saying.” Dale remarks. “But it wouldn’t hurt you to think things through a little more carefully.” He points a finger at Glenn, the smile long gone from his face. You shake your head and shift your weight as a white truck pulls up behind the other car. You feel your heart swell in happiness for your friend when Andrea steps out, running for her sister with teary eyes. You watch as Morales and everyone else reunite with their loved ones, both you and Shane exchanging a look as Lori comforts a saddened Carl.

When a new man steps out of the car, dressed in a cop outfit, you are confused when you see Shane’s face fall. He looks like he’s seen a ghost - does he know this man? “Dad!” Carl screams, running into the arms of the unknown man. You watch in awe as Carl and Lori reunite with who must be his father... You and all the other smile at the scene, a single tear strolling down your cheek as you rejoice for them.

Until it hits you.

You look at Shane, his face rising and falling, his expression changing every second. He’s been sleeping with Lori... From what you knew, her husband was shot and died in the hospital right as this all happened... Was this really that man? You had so many questions but instead went over to give Andrea a hug, happy to see your friend has returned safely.

After the others settled in, the fire was once again set up and everyone feasted, listening to stories and the man - Rick - explained what happened when he woke from the coma he was in. You kept glancing back at Shane, wondering whether he was happy his friend was alive or not. He explained that he thought he died, that he didn’t hear a heartbeat and was attached to machines, which sounded like enough reason to believe he had passed to you. Still, you noticed how he looked at Lori throughout the night and you knew that there was going to be tension after tonight.

Once again, Daryl had only appeared once in the morning, asking about the whereabouts of his brother and eating before heading back into the woods. You had met his eye when he strode off, ducking your head from the intensity of his stare.

The next morning, you awoke shortly after sunrise in order to get a head-start on the day. You were going down to the quarry to wash clothes with the women while Shane and Carl tried catching frogs. You dressed into denim capris that hugged your legs and a black tank top, your hair pulled up into a pony tail as you spooned leftovers from last night into your mouth alongside Amy and Andrea. You are sitting beside them on the RV stairs when you spot Daryl approaching the camp from the woods, a string of something swung over his shoulder as he heads your way.

Swallowing the lump that formed in your throat, you exchange a knowing look with the sisters - Merle was left behind. Daryl stops a few feet away from the RV, hollering for his brother as he sets down his crossbow. “Merle!” He hollers again, making you cringe as you note a string of squirrels thrown over his shoulder. You meet his eye for a moment when he glances over his shoulder toward the RV. “Get yer ugly ass out here! Got us some squirrel!” He shuffles the weight of the dead animals over his shoulder. You grimace at the sight - knowing that it was a good thing and you should be thankful, but it was gross and sad. “Let’s stew em up!”

“Daryl?” Shane calls out, stopping Daryl in his tracks. Everyone is gathered around by this point and you exchange a worried look with the girls when you spot T-Dog heading over with an armful of firewood. “Why don’t you slow up a bit? I gotta talk to you.”

“About wha?” Daryl asks, his southern accent prominent. You try not to seem too nosey but at this point a lot of the group was gathered around, anticipating his bad reaction. You set the bowl of food aside and stand, crossing your arms and leaning against the vehicle beside your friends. “This isn’t gonna be good.” Amy mutters to the two of you, keeping her voice low. Shane makes his way over to Daryl, Rick following behind.

“About Merle... There was a uh... There was a problem in Atlanta.” You watch anxiously as Daryl takes in the information, looking around the camp at the people gathered, chewing on his thumb.

“He dead?” He asks, glancing up at Shane sideways.

“I’m not sure.”

“He either is or he ain’t!” Daryl shouts, approaching Shane. Your body is tense now and you worry that he is going to do something stupid.

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it.” Rick steps up, approaching Daryl. He glares at him angrily. You notice how Rick looks a lot different in his large white shirt and jeans than he did yesterday in his uniform.

“Who are you?”

“Rick Grimes.”

“Rick Grimes...” Daryl sneers, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. You feel the tension growing in the air. “You got somethin you wanna tell me?” He growls.

“Your brother was a danger to us all. So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked onto a piece of metal. He’s still there.”

Daryl begins stalking back and forth, glaring between Shane and Rick, clearly bewildered. If you were in his shoes you would be too - it sounds pretty bad. “Hold on,” He starts, wiping his face and gesturing to his head. You notice that Daryl speaks with his hands quite a lot, mentally adding it to the things that you know about him. “Lemme process this. You’re saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof?! And you left him there!” He hollers at Rick, his tone raising with each word, making you jump at his loudness.

Before anyone can react, Daryl tosses the squirrels at Rick - who dodges them - and goes to lunge at him. Shane is quick to roughly shove him to the ground - making you cringe when he hits the ground on his back. You want to intervene but it’s not your place - and what would you do to stop the older, larger man?

Daryl whips out his large dagger, making you and Amy gasp when he swipes at Rick. Between Shane and Rick, they work together to disarm and get Daryl to the ground, Shane holding him in a choke-hold as Rick tries to reason with him. “You best let me go!” Daryl shouts, his face turning red as he struggles against Shane.

After a moment, Shane releases Daryl. He shuffles to his feet and resumes stalking and glaring at the men. “The hell with all y’all!” Daryl shouts, waving his arm in no real direction. You spot the tears he roughly wipes away and your heart drops for him. If that were your brother abandoned on a roof you would be pretty furious too. You can’t imagine how he must be feeling.

“Just tell me where he is.. So I can go get him.” Daryl grumbles.

“He’ll show you. Isn’t that right?” Lori speaks up, looking over at her husband. When he nods, she stomps past you into the RV and you exchange a confused look with Amy.

You, Andrea, Amy Jacqui and Carol decided to head down to start on the laundry after the scene. Ed tags along, irritating you, but you bite your tongue. Eventually Shane follows with Carl and you watch them mess around in the water, trying to catch frogs. The sight warms your heart - until Lori shows up and tells Carl to leave. You try not to watch too much, but everyone can hear and see her hollering at Shane, telling him to stay away from Carl.

You feel that is a little harsh, given all that Shane has done for her and that he says he thought Rick was dead. You keep your opinions to yourself as you scrub clothes in the water, droning out Carol as she talks. The girls start listing things that they miss and you all laugh when Andrea brings up her vibrator, Carol agreeing with her. The moment is cut short when Ed interrupts, saying that you guys are laughing too much.

You and Andrea turn and shoot him a look as he looms over you guys, lighting a cigarette. This man had nothing better to do than to supervise? You watch as Andrea stands up, approaching him and you dread the worst. You will not hesitate to stand up for her if he acts out of line - unfair to butt in in this situation.

“Ed, tell you what. You don’t like how your laundry’s done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself.” She suggests with a calm tone. You slowly stand from where you sat and turn to face them, ready for him to pull a dick move. “Here,” She suddenly tosses a wet pair of pants at Ed’s chest, which he immediately tosses back into her face, making her gasp. “Ain’t my job missy.” He drawls, taking a drag of his cigarette. The situation very quickly escalates as Amy tries to get her sister to back down but you take her side.

“No, what exactly is your job Ed? You think you can stand around and watch us all day? Got news for ya - we sure as hell aren’t your bitches.” You growl, daring the man to try you. You’ve had it up to here with this asshole, you’re dying for an excuse to fuck him up or go down trying.

He demands Carol follow him when he pussies out of the confrontation and ends up slapping her - sending all of you over the edge. Everyone is screaming as you and Andrea quickly start pounding on Ed’s chest, you digging your nails into his arms as you try to pull him off of Carol. You manage to get a punch in before he is literally drug off by Shane. You hold your throbbing fist as you watch Shane begin pummeling Ed, climbing on top of him and relentlessly beating him.

You almost want to cheer as he does so, grimacing as Carol cries and begs Shane to stop. Eventually he takes it too far and you all start hollering for him to stop. Carol runs over to the asshole’s side and sobs over him, making you sick as she apologizes to him. You and Shane meet eyes for a moment, your gaze landing on his bloody fists. “Shane-” You start, but he shrugs and shifts his weight, walking backward from the scene.

-

While some of the men got ready to go back to Atlanta to get Merle, you iced your throbbing hand on the steps of the RV. “You okay?” Glenn asks, shooting you a worried look. You nod and give him a halfhearted smile.

“I wish I could’ve beat his ass like Shane did.” You remark, shifting your weight slightly. Glenn lets out a chuckle and removes his cap, brushing his hair away.

“He deserved it.”

“Damn right he did.” You respond, wincing as you readjust the ice. You look up to spot Daryl getting ready a few yards away. He glances up, squinting at you in the bright sun as you sit there. Word quickly got around camp about what happened and it didn’t take a genius to figure out how you hurt yourself. You watch Daryl chew on his bottom lip, looking at you sideways before dropping his gaze back to his crossbow in hand.

“What’s that all about?” Glenn mutters. You glance up at him and cock a brow.

“Whaddya mean?”

“That. Daryl.” He clarifies, a smirk tugging at his lips. You drop your head as you feel your cheeks heat up, checking out your hand.

“Nothin. We don’t even talk.”

“You want to?” He asks, leaning his body against the RV, shooting a look back at the others that he is waiting for.

“I dunno, he doesn’t seem so bad.” You mumble, glancing up one more time when you see Daryl approaching the other men at the jeep, not looking at you this time. Glenn doesn’t respond, replacing his hat on his head and patting your shoulder. “Be careful.” You tell your friend, shooting him a weak smile that he returns as he walks off.

You watch as Glenn stands a few feet apart from Daryl, Shane giving Rick some bullets. “Let’s go! Wastin sunlight.” Daryl rushes them, making you chuckle slightly. You stand up and after one last look at your friends, you head back into the RV.

| NEXT CHAPTER |

~~~

And that’s the end of the second option! This next chapter will end with more choices that you will need to make to continue through the story. You are heading down a spiral of choices and consequences. A simple decision like choosing to stay at camp is going to set the foundation of this story and all of the choices you are going to need to make following it! If you read the first option, you would see just how different the story has become, and it will only go more into depth as you continue down more paths.

Please leave me some feedback in the comments!! I’m looking forward to seeing everyone’s reactions to this series!!! ♥

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[nicka-nell]

I'm Kiyoomi Sakusa and I'm a germaphobe - Chapter 9: I was here, but you weren’t

Words: 1.503

Warning: mention of death, maybe angst?, grief, manga spoiler

Chapter 8 - a coffee please     | Masterlist

(y/n) = your name | (l/n) = last name | (e/c) = eye colour | (h/c) = hair colour

"I’m home again!" (y/n) shouts as she takes off her shoes and walks into the living room. With his finger, Kaede taps a passage in the book, what he is reading at the moment, and looks up at the loud voice that comes ever closer. When he sees (y/n), he closes the book with his bookmark and gets up from the couch to lovingly hug his little sister.

Together they still sit on the couch and enjoy the evening with a few series and a snack. Shortly before one, the two go into their bedrooms and lie down to sleep. However, before (y/n) falls asleep, she writes to Kiyoomi where he is to come tomorrow.

After a good night’s sleep, (y/n) gets up at eight in the morning and takes a nice warm shower. She then dries her hair and dresses to prepare breakfast for her and her brother.

Down in the kitchen, she already sees Kaede sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. Somewhat tired, he looks up at her and points to the pan on the hob. “Good morning, little one, breakfast just finished, so eat up. I have to go. My shift starts in an hour." She happily walks towards the hob and scrapes the pan with the wooden spoon empty. While the coffee runs out of her fully automatic coffee machine, she puts her breakfast and cutlery at the table next to Kaede before she also takes the finished coffee from the machine.

“How did you sleep Kaede?" she asks him and kisses him on the cheek. “Could have been better. And you? Did you dream about your Yoomitory rat?” he laughs. “My what?” she asks irritated and frowns. “I mean your Yoomitory rat. Kiyoomi and laboratory rat are together Yoomitory rat.” While shaking her head she twists her eyes and starts laughing. “You're out of your mind. Go ahead and make your money, you seven-year-old kid." She smiles and puts the first bite of scrambled eggs in her mouth.

Happy, Kaede gets up from his chair and washes off his dishes, so he can get ready for his working day. (y/n) too, gets ready for the evening with Kiyoomi after her breakfast. Goes once again to the weekly market and prepares the meal for this evening and for tomorrow.

But shortly before eight, her cell phone rings. Could this be Kiyoomi? She asks herself and dries her hands off to go to her cell phone. 'Kaede (l/n)' is on their display. Oh no... It can’t be good, it comes her in the head, and she takes the phone call.

“Kaede?” she asks anxiously. “(y/n)... We just got an emergency. Probably two buses got into each other and over thirty injured people are brought to our hospital. I know you have your day off, but we can’t do without good staff like you. Please come and help us." Kaede’s restless voice sounds on the other line.

A bus accident... how terrible. Her blood freezes with the number of injured. "I’ll be right there.” she answers him absent-minded and lets her phone fall to the ground. She quickly grabs her key and her coat and drives with her car as fast as she can to the clinic.

-

He’s a little early, but (y/n) already told him she has the day off today. Since he is so early, Kiyoomi goes down the street at a slow pace and now has only to go through a small park before he arrives at (y/n)'s house.

Arriving at the street she mentioned, Kiyoomi stands in front of a large, modern house and is amazed. He quickly looks again at the address she had sent him to make sure that this house really belongs to her. The bell also has the name (l/n) on it, so this must really be her house. Well, as a surgeon... she certainly does not earn so little, he thinks and rings.

But no one opens the door. He rings again, assuming that she just didn’t hear it. But again, nothing. Did she stand him up? Once again he bends forward and rings several times, even knocks on the door because he thinks the bell is broken. A bit annoyed he reaches to his mobile phone and tries to call her, but there goes the voicemail. Why did she just stand him up?

Angry, he turns around and goes home. She could have at least sent him a message. But no, she just lets him walk through felt ten different parks until he finally gets on her doorstep. Now he has to walk all the way back with all these people in the park, for what? For absolutely nothing.

Once home, he takes a hot shower and tries to cheer up his thoughts with this warm shower. When he dries up, he looks back at his cell phone. Again, her words shoot through his head. You shall meet with other people. With a hissing sound he reaches for the small device in front of him and enters a message into his mobile phone.

-

It's terrible. People lie on their beds waiting to be treated screaming. But much worse are the people who lie on their beds and no longer scream. Because these people are already seeing the light on the other side.

“Good thing you’re here (l/n)-sensei!” Wakami greets the doctor hastily. “A woman is about to be brought in with internal bleeding and several broken bones. The state is very serious.” She brings her up to date. Nodding, (y/n) sets out when she is stopped by a man in the hallway. He’s got a head injury stitched up.

“Please! Please, you must help my wife!" the stranger begs her and holds her to her sleeve. Shocked, she loosens his grip. The man is at most ten years older than her, so his wife is the patient to operate on now? God, that must be awful for the man. “Please stay calm and let me go now. The more time I lose here with you, the more time I lose to save your wife, so please let me go." She answers him calmly but with a lot of pressure in her voice. Crying he dodges to the back. “Yes...please help her... She just gave birth to our son two months ago, and he can’t lose his mother... Please help her." He sobs. Nodding, (y/n) turns around and runs towards the operating room.

Once there, the horror awaits her. Never before has she had such a seriously injured patient lying in front of her. But she must not be afraid now, she must now have confidence in her abilities and stick to the point.

Several hours pass and shortly before three o'clock at night she steps out of the operating room. Her brother had already warned her... he had told her that the day will come when she will lose her first patient. That this day must be today of all days, with a young woman five years older than her, with a two-month-old child and a husband who loves her... She wasn’t expecting this.

With a heavy heart, she goes to the waiting room, where the man is already shaking like a heap of misery, and with tears in his eyes he is rocking back and forth. “Yui-san? Can I talk to you...?" She looks at him with a queasy feeling. “You’re the doctor who operated on my wife, how is she?" So much hope can be seen in his face. So much hope she’ll take away from him.

Her heart hurts at her next words. “I'm sorry, Yui-san... but, I really couldn’t do anything for your wife. Her bleeding was too severe... her organs were damaged too badly and all the fractures also caused complications. I'm... I'm really sorry, Yui-san... I-” She is about to finish her sentence, but is interrupted by him.

With a pain-filled face, he jumps up and grabs her by the shoulders. “That’s a lie! That’s not true!" he yells at her. The grip on her shoulders hurts. “Unfortunately, this is not a lie. We really tried everything. I know my words don’t comfort you but...", “Stop! Be quiet!" he cries again and presses her against the wall. “(l/n)-sensei!" she hears the voice of Wakami. „Security Men! We need security men here!" She calls into the hallway and after only a few seconds, two tall, strong men step into the room and pull the man, eaten by grief, away with all their strength from (y/n).

“I’m sorry..." Broken and so quiet that only she can hear, she brings these words out and tears flow down her cheek.

That day, she had six more patients on her operating table, all of them successfully treated. Only this one young woman not...

Chapter 10 - I am sorry

Taglist: @kara-grayson04​ @suna-allie​

PS: @sckusa thank you for the inspiration I got from your Yoomiaster. I started here to connect 'Kiyoomi' with other words. (Yoomitory rat) But there will also be a real yoomiaster. So... I just wanted to say thank you one more time. 🤗💚

[leilabeaux]

Luck Be a Lady

Chapter Two

Masterlist | One

Pairing: Alex x Reader

Word Count: 2590

Summary: Alex and Reader enjoy some dinner, drinks, and games. Could this be a date?

Warnings: Toying with infidelity, people freely scrolling though someone else’s phone with no disregard

----

Alex pressed his back against the wall next to your hotel room door. With his hands tucked into his pockets and his legs crossed at the ankles, he waited for you to come back out. He tried to downplay the large smile on his face but it was hard. The theme of his night was playing it cool and to not seem like a lovesick fool but he was in disbelief over his luck. When Bianca said she was going to bring her friend over, he was temporarily stunned to see the same woman that had caught his eye at the airport two days ago.

He was waiting in baggage claim with Marco who was busy listing all their potential plans during their stay when he got distracted by a faint coconut scent that floated by. He looked over to see you walking past him going toward the baggage carousel. Whatever his friend was saying was now just background noise as he couldn’t help but stare at you. You were smiling and seemed like you were making small talk with an older couple next to you as you waited for your own bag to appear. 

Just as he was fine-tuning his plan to approach you with his not-so-smooth line of “Excuse me, Miss, I think you dropped this dollar. By the way, you are beautiful and will you please let me take you out sometime”, he looked up to find that you were gone. After being caught up on the one who got away, Marco reassured him that there would be plenty of other women he could hit on. He had to agree with him because what were the chances he would run into you again? Obviously, it was greater than he thought.

The sound of the door opening brought Alex out of his thoughts. Your curls were now in a messy bun on top of your head and just as you promised you were dressed more comfortably in simple tee, jeans, and your chucks which he figured probably felt like walking on a cloud to you after being in heels most of the night. He also noticed that you still had his jacket on.

“Sorry, I’ve decided that I’m keeping this. I think it looks better on me anyway,” you said with a mischievous smile as you tucked your hands into the pockets.

“I can’t really argue with you on that one. But I’ll be taking it off of you one way or another.” He countered, instantly regretting his choice of words. No more saying out loud how you want to take her clothes off, he thought to himself.

You raised your eyebrow in response, “Hmm..I doubt it. Don’t worry, I’ll give it back to you eventually.” You turned down the hallway, going toward the elevators with Alex following close behind you.

He once again felt like luck was on his side when you didn’t throw his jacket in his face and politely tell him to fuck right off. He reminded himself to reign in the comments and glances he’s been giving you before he scared you off and you decided to cut your night short. But as he became distracted by the slight swing of your hips, he thought that maybe he was in over his head.

----

The trip to the buffet was just one elevator ride down to the second floor of the hotel you were staying at. Although it featured various cuisines to choose from, you and Alex both bee-lined toward the sushi bar and unashamedly stuffed your faces full of raw fish while washing it down with beer. 

You declared yourself full as the busboy picked up your empty plates so he had a look of confusion when you left and then came back to the table with a brownie topped with ice cream. Without needing him to say anything, you quickly responded that there is always room for dessert.

If he only knew how much you enjoyed your sweets, he would have waited a moment before taking a sip of his beer. You gave a soft moan as you took the first bite of your brownie. Unprepared to hear such a sound come from you, Alex had choked on his beer and gave a few coughs to clear out his throat.

“Don’t die on me, kid. Maybe you should try sipping slowly,” you giggled and then brought another spoonful to your mouth. All the drinks you’ve had so far was giving you a warm buzz.

“Kid?”, his voice raspy as he was still trying to clear his throat. “I’m only seven years younger than you!”

“Only seven years? Aw, you really are a baby boy!,” you said with wide eyes. You couldn’t stop giggling when Alex started pouting and crossed his arms across his chest. “Don’t be a Mister Grumpy Gills! I’m just being a little shit. You should be honored, I’m only mean to the ones I like.”

Alex took another sip of his beer before leaning back in his chair and continued to pretend to be hurt by your teasing. Even if he were, he imagined it would be hard to stay that way for too long. All you would have to do is flash him a smile and all would be forgiven.

You had set your spoon down and rested your chin against your fist as you started to stare off toward the fountain display at the center of the restaurant. He pulled out his phone and decided to take advantage of the moment, capturing a couple shots of you. It wasn’t his camera but it will have to do for now. As he got ready to take another picture, he glanced at your left hand and noticed the ring you were wearing.

Alex’s heart fell. Why didn’t he notice this before? Were you wearing it this entire time? His mind went back over the past three hours he had spent with you so far and he couldn’t recall you mentioning a husband or any form of a significant other. He didn’t want to confirm what he knew to be true but he had to.

“How long have you been married?” He asked as he tried to erase the look of disappointment that he was sure was all over his face.

You appeared to be startled. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the interruption or because of the question itself. You brought your hand down and glanced at the offending ring on your finger. “About eight years,” you answered simply.

“And why aren’t they here with you? Turning thirty seems to be pretty significant, I know if you were my wife I’d be busy spoiling you and celebrating it with you,” Alex was tempted to add in bed but now really wasn’t the time.

“He wasn’t able to come. That and me and Bi wanted to have a girls only kind of trip. He’d probably be miserable doing all the corny touristy things I love to do,” you cracked a smile at this. “He’s the one treating us to all of this anyway so it’s like he’s here in spirit.”

“Is he a good husband?” He groaned internally because he couldn’t stop asking questions that he didn’t want to know the answers to.

You tilted your head as if to ponder his question before nodding, “Yeah. Definitely not perfect, but yes.”

With the warm smile on your face after you spoke, Alex figured right then and there that he stood no chance. He tried to take some consolation in the fact that you were at least being treated with the respect you deserved. He downed the rest of his beer with a large gulp as he prepared to wish you a good night and pray that your friend had already vacated his room so he could sleep his sorrows away.

His intentions were interrupted by your small gasp. “Hey! Let’s gamble and lose some money!” You didn’t even give him a chance to answer as you stood up from your table and marched over to the casino floor.

He got up from the table and quickly followed. Wounded or not, he wasn’t going to deny you anything.

----

“You were up fifty dollars! Why didn’t you stop playing?” Alex could have sworn he only took his eyes from your machine for one second and then he looked back to see you were down to the last dollar.

“Because I thought I could get more but then I didn’t. So I decided that I just wanted to break even but...uh, then I didn’t,” you pulled on the handle of the slot machine and then frowned when you came up empty once again.

He could only laugh at your sad explanation. Now he understood why after you withdrew $100 from the ATM, you handed him the cash and declared that he was in charge of the funds. 

“Maybe we should hit up the tables?” you suggested as you slipped off the stool, making sure to not forget your free drink that a server had previously offered you. Maybe not so free since you were now down twenty dollars.

“I guess if you want to lose your money even faster,” he said. He pulled out his phone and tried to get a shot of the rows of lighted up slot machines, thinking it would make an interesting picture.

“Ooo! Let me see!” You pulled down his arm so that his phone would be more at your eye level Smiling up at him, you asked, “Do you have any others?”

He scrolled through his photos to find the ones he had taken when he was back home before handing his phone to you. He didn’t know why but he was nervous as you flipped through the album. There was a part of him that was seeking your approval, a part of him that wanted to make you proud.

“Alex…,” you looked up at him in amazement before going back to scroll through his pictures. “I don’t claim to have the eye of an art critic but these are good. Like real good.”

“I mean they’re okay--” he started to say before being interrupted.

“Uh-uh, you don’t need to be humble around me. ‘I don’t feel comfortable saying I’m professional yet’, my ass,” you said mockingly as you flipped through his photo album.

“I just meant that I don’t get paid to do it,” he tried to defend himself.

“I think you could if you wanted to,” you were taking a sip of your mixed drink when you paused at one picture in particular. He could have sworn he saw a tinge of red starting to flush across your cheeks. “Oh. Ohhhh...I’m sure a gal would pay a pretty penny for this one. Did you put this one on your tinder?”

You pointed the screen toward him to let him see what you were referring to. Taken in the privacy of his own bathroom, Alex was wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone as it took a picture of his reflection. He lept toward you trying to take the phone away from your hands before you delved even deeper into his photo album but you were too fast for him. With your back pressed against his chest, he again tried to wrestle it from your grip but again he was coming up empty.

“And what is this one, I see?” 

He quickly tried to think if he had any other incriminating pictures that he forgot to delete. Embarrassed, he looked down at the screen fully expecting to see his own dick staring back at him but instead all he saw was you. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Were you expecting me to find something else? Should I keep searching?” you asked cheekily.

“Nope!” He finally managed to get his phone back, “I think you’re done.”

“Laaaame.” You whined as you continued walking between the game tables, trying to decide what you wanted to try out. “I am very surprised you managed to get my good side. It usually takes me about twenty tries before I get a decent pic.”

“I don’t know, I think all your sides are good sides,” he stated while falling instep with you.

“Ha, no but thanks for the ego boost. You’re such a charmer. Be sure to keep that up when you get that special woman in your life.”

“Your husband doesn’t try to charm you?”

“He does in his own ways.” 

“But not in the way you like.”

“I’ve always been such a hopeless romantic and he...is not. He isn’t the type to buy ‘Just Because’ flowers but he would wake up early during the winter to scrape my windshield and make sure my car was heated before I left for work.”

“What are ‘Just Because’ flowers?”

You paused to mull over your response, “When it’s just an ordinary day, no obligation because of a special occasion or holiday, you give someone you like or love flowers just because you knew they were having a bad day or just because you wanted to see the smile or just because you were thinking of them. Whatever the reason is, it’s just because.” You continued walking and didn’t hear a reply from him, “Sorry, was that cheesy? I did warn you that I was a hopeless romantic!”

“No, not cheesy at all,” he said as he gave a glance down at you. “It’s just...it sounds like these flowers would have meant a lot to you. Have you tried telling him this? I don’t think you should go another eight years without it.”

“It really doesn’t matter much now.” You polished off the rest of your drink before leaving the glass at a vacant slot machine. “Onto a more cheerful topic, I think I still have at least two more hours left in me before I officially need to pass out.”

“Just two?” He takes a seat on the stool in front of you. With him seated and you still standing, it gave you the opportunity to look him straight in the eyes.

“Yes, it’s way beyond my bedtime.” You crossed your arms across your chest. Although you were more clothed now, he was finding it hard to stay focused on your face. “So I feel I’ve been controlling this entire outing. Is there anything you wanted to do?”

Alex gave a small gulp. He felt tempted to pull you closer to him, to have you trapped between his legs only so he could make his answer clear. But instead he kept his hands to himself. “I’m fine gambling for the rest of the night.”

“That’s nice of you but that’s not what I asked. What do you want to do? Or better yet, what were yours and Marco’s plans before me and Bianca so rude interrupted it?”

“Well…”

----

You stepped up into the back of the SUV, scooting over to give Alex some room to get in as well.

“Are you Y/N?” your Uber driver asked. After confirming this, he continued reading off his app screen,  “And you two are going to the Sapphires Gentlemen’s Club?

You and Alex looked at each other. You giggled at what he was sure was the flush he felt that was taking over his cheeks. All he could think to himself was, this is such a bad idea, kill me now.

Next

End Notes: So, yeah. Looks like they are wrapping up their night with a bang, whether that includes a literal bang. Who knows? Still think our dear reader is ready to risk it all? Are you good at slots (pssh, I’m not!)? Would you allow a stranger to have completely access to your photo album?

[midweekupdate]

04/09/14

I don't like my family. I mean, I don't know too many people who are overly fond of their families but between my mother's gambling problem and my father's fondness for sleeping with women who aren't my mother without her permission, family reunions are a nightmare. It's not even their proneness to addiction, it's the fact that I am the only family member who hasn't gone to some form of therapy or rehab to try and "fix" their "problems". I don't look on addiction as a problem; I look on it as a character flaw, one that doesn't need to be fixed. It simply needs to be controlled. That's what my parents never understood - still don't understand - about me or my sister. They were always trying to fix us like we were broken and it was torture.

But at least we always had each other. This was my first family dinner since my sister was arrested and I had to face the two of them alone. Really, I think it was just rude of her to get caught and I could easily make an argument to the effect that she did it on purpose specifically to avoid dad’s birthday dinner. But I know that's not true.

If I’m being honest, I could have gotten the family reunion over with a few years ago but I always had an excuse available: I have a work function, I have a custody hearing, I’m trying to figure out how to stuff a body into a pizza oven while my husband’s at work. They still laugh at that last one. One day I’ll tell them it wasn’t a joke. Maybe at Christmas.

Thank god for my two little terror’s at home, though. If it weren’t for them I’d be forced to visit my parents at least once a month. I’m so glad they saw reason and blamed their grandparents for what happened to their mother. Now I don’t even need to come up with an excuse, I just tell them that I can’t find a babysitter and wait for next year when they try to call. It’s a beautiful system.

Until this weekend.

I told my mother that the kids were here for the weekend when, in fact, they were both away (Jason at a friend’s house, Sandra touring universities with James). The peace and quiet was so welcome I didn’t think twice about lying to my mother.

And then she showed up at the door. Apparently she called James and he had foolishly told her the truth, thinking I had also told her the truth. I already scolded him so there’s no need to make snide remarks in the comments, dear readers.

So in burst my mother on Saturday morning insisting that my father would be here later in the day and we needed to clean the house for supper with the three of us. Great.

To her credit, my mother taught me some very valuable things: how to get stains out of carpet, and her desire to take risks in everyday situations. Mostly her cleaning skills, though, that woman could spark a blood bath in the kitchen and you’d never know it an hour later.

Huh.

Now I’m very careful about the cleanliness of my home. Too clean and the police become suspicious but too messy and I get these weird rashes all over my body. It’s not pretty. But my father has never been able to stand anything less than perfection when it came to the cleanliness of his home. When we were growing up we wouldn’t be allowed to eat a meal until the entire house passed inspection. I admit that in university I rebelled against him by living in an absolute pigsty but I slowly grew to appreciate the values of living in cleanliness. And having bleach on hand at all times.

Yes, for all my parent’s flaws, I can honestly say that they have shaped me into the woman I am today.

That still does not mean I want to see them on a regular basis and that certainly does not excuse them from acting like assholes at dinner. From the moment my mother stepped into my house she had to comment on everything, comparing it to her precious little condo that she and dad had bought now that they “didn’t have to entertain”. Of course that didn’t stop her from complaining about the fact that I never visit and that they were forced to move to a smaller house since their grandchildren were brainwashed into thinking they were the villains.

They say brainwashed, I say logically persuaded.

In any case, my mother spent more time criticizing my furniture choice, my choice of colour and even my choice of dish soap than she did cleaning which is odd even for her. Usually she’s much better at multitasking.

And then, like good little women, we had to make supper before father dear returned from chopping wood or selling women’s dresses or whatever he does now in his old age. It’s not that I minded cooking, it’s that it was expected of me. I hate when people just assume that I’ll do something. It irritates me to no end and if it were anyone else they would have found the body the next morning and I would be adding their information to my notebooks. But since they’re family I made an exception. 

Mostly because it would have raised too many questions.

Like clockwork, dad showed up as we were putting the food on the table and immediately made a beeline for the basement. He always liked to start at the bottom and worked his way up when he made his inspections. Thank god I remembered to change out my load of laundry. He has a nasty habit of airing out people’s dirty laundry and I doubt blood stains on my nice white blouse would have made him particularly excited. One habit I was glad to break was waiting for everyone to be seated before we ate. Sometimes dad’s inspections could take hours and I was not about to let his invasion of my privacy stop me from enjoying a good home-cooked meal. Even if my mother was glaring at me as I ate in silence.

That’s the thing about my family. Even when we were growing up, I can probably count on one hand the times when we’d had long, serious conversations. We rarely spoke to each other. Everything we said was silent. Glaring or disapproving looks were sometimes indistinguishable from disappointed or disturbed looks but after a while they all meant the same to my sister and me: you’re not good enough. I remember that look always made my sister cry. Even after all these years – in my own home no less – I still get an uneasy feeling in my stomach when my mother glares at me like that. Like she’s trying to burn me from the inside out. Like she knows my dark secrets. Of course she doesn’t. If she did I would have been arrested by now. My mother would literally turn in her own daughter if it meant making herself look good.

Which brings me to dinner - or at least the moment when we all sat down together. I have never believed my mother to be a good woman – nor would she want me to – but there’s a certain level of loyalty even criminals and low lifes have. She brought it up so casually like it was every day conversation. My father, to his credit or cowardice, remained silent as my mother recounted her tale.

I am not known for my calm attitude or my ability to forgive so it is out of sheer preservation that my mother is still alive today. I want you to understand that, dear readers. I am being purely selfish.

My mother turned my sister in to the police. She wasn’t caught by chance. She was ratted out. Four years and she finally got up the courage to confess to a crime I didn’t even know she committed.

After I heard the news, I honestly don’t know what happened or how dinner ended but when I next found myself it was later that evening and James was holding me back from attacking the washing machine with a hammer. Thank god he found me; that was an expensive machine.

All jokes aside, I have never blacked out like that. I’ve had moments where rage has overtaken me with a victim and they’ve ended up more guts than flesh but never for this long and never without supervision. I had James call my father to make sure they’d made it home safe and sound. He sounded so calm as he talked to my parents but I could tell he was scared.

That’s what my mother does to people. She brings out the terror in them. It comes in many forms but it’s like her super villain power: drawing the nightmares from people. I would think it was a gift if it didn’t affect me so much.

Instead it’s a curse. A terrible plague.

In a lot of ways my parents are well matched in that manner. Though my father’s terror is more silent but deadly.

Four days later and I’m still trying to fathom how someone can do that to their daughter. You don’t just drop a bomb on them like that in the middle of dinner. It’s so rude.

I’m hoping I scared them enough that they won’t want to have another impromptu family dinner for at least another year.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

[artsninspo]

PULSE PART VI - 21 QUESTIONS

Authors Note: 

Elle and Tre get some alone time, get to know each other some more and ... smut? Maybe just a little. 

Enjoy, xx

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“So” Tre said gripping the wheel and glancing at the GPS. His need for control made him drive - what he hadn’t banked on was his quiet passenger. Women were always trying to be seen and heard around him.

“So?” She repeats glancing up from her phone being difficult per usual and making him smile a little.

“Always an attitude” he comments

“Guess you can say I’m learning” she says getting right back at him.

“You have a smart mouth, you’re a pain in the ass, grieving,  your cousin thinks you’re an angel and that I’m an issue? Hows that?” He asks.

“How is it-“

“Come on answer the question, I know you can go back and forth all night” he interrupts making Elle laugh as she looks out the window at the streetlights.

“I’m the last child from my mom, I have three older brothers. My brothers all have the same dad - mom’s ex husband. He hated the idea of a girl ruining his streak. I got good at playing angel because it was the only way I got attention” Elle shrugs honestly. “Are you going to share too or do I get to talk about myself for the next hour?”

“Where was your pops?” Tre asks ignoring her commentary and making Elle smiles.

“Who knows? Didn’t know Kevin, my mom’s ex wasn’t my dad until they had a divorce. He took my brothers - mom had me DNA tested so he couldn’t take me.”

“Any you’ve been a shit starter ever since?” Tre asks.

“No Mr. Therapist, my mom was distraught. I had to be an angel and then I found her a new pogo stick to bounce on so I could live my life” Elle smiles. Her eyes sparkle every time the light hits them.

Tre shook his head - nothing about her outer appearance teased at her being so crass. He’d been with a few girls from Elles world before and they were all the same - victims of their privilege.  Some whoa is me tale from lack of attention or affection. Thats what fucking with him was good for - attention. After a few he stopped - they were no fun.

“You ever meet your dad?”

“I have to hear something about you first”

“Ask away” he nods looking at the road in front of him.

Elle smiles looking at the ceiling and milling through her thoughts, “What’s your zodiac sign”

“You believe in that shit?”

“Just answer!” Elle shouts.

“Aquarius” she laughs at his response making him feel self conscious.

“Ok”

“Nahh, whats so funny?” He asks slightly offended.

‘It’s not my turn to answer questions, its yours. Are you a pimp?” Elle asks and its Tre’s turn to laugh. “what’s so funny you have girls,  girls, girls, you’re rude to them and they’ll fight for you”

“If I was a pimp you’d be working, not getting a personal escort”

“Excuse me, I don’t know much about that stuff” Elle smiles as Tre’s turns. Silence falls on the car again as memories of his mothers hustles for drugs comes back to him.

“My dad, I met him once. I was the youngest of his kids too and the only girl. He was cool and so were my brothers. It was a long time ago. I barely remember what he looks like but he’s never missed a birthday or Christmas since” Its an olive branch, an attempt to curb the awkwardness. He was uncomfortable all of a sudden and she could feel it. Not the fun kind of discomfort from pushing someone too far - the hurt kind.

“My mom was an addict, streets can be rough for women - I’m no saint but I don’t take advantage of anyone or sell dreams” he explains toughening up.

“Do you have any other family?” Elle whispered looking him over - here she estranged from hers feeling alone because of Jesse’s death when he may very well be.

“No one that matters”

“Whats your type?” Elle asks as her heart races tears bound to fall at any moment. She felt that. No one that matters. Everyone she’d been raised around, that she wanted to be with had chosen her step-fathers side. Kizzy, Dia and her Uncle were all she had left and even they didn’t really know her.

“huh?”

“Your type of girl, we’re headed to a show things got kind of dark I can slide you an assist” she sighs blinking them back.

“I don’t have a type - whats yours?” Tre watches as her body language changes mirroring his moments ago - discomfort.

“Jesse… he always picked guys out for me. It was fun that way, now it isn’t and I don’t know - if I’d had known things would get like this I wouldn’t have asked you to come. Honestly, I’d rather argue” It makes him smile.

“That’a all I’m good for to you”

“Pretty good body guard too - those muscles intimidate effectively”

“Just not you”

“Ehh, usually men who look like you are overcompensating for something, low self esteem and are more dangerous because of that.”

“Not me?”

“Not you, you haven’t flipped out on me yet that’s big dick energy. Reinforced by the fact that you didn’t exploit my drunkenness. I think you’re a good guy and an asshole - people can’t be perfect”

“I don’t like you much” he comments but its not true.

“I’m not interested in being likeable to you sir”

_____________

He watched her, watching people had become something he was adept in. She’d changed in a bars bathroom on the way to the event - looking and smelling like temptation. He couldn’t help but notice the way the satin in her dress brought out the melanin in her skin - even in the dimly lit club. Everyone else took notice as well.

Parties were never really his speed - a recipe for a lot of things to go wrong. He could see Elle was the opposite making quick work of the crowd, getting straight through to the acts and making fast work of them. Every so often she’d elbow a guy for pushing up on her  too much or point to Tre watching her intentionally.

“Hey” a woman says snapping him out of his thoughts. The voice is familiar and so is her face.

“Hey” he repeats.

“South beach, last year at that club a few doors down from the Versace Mansion?” She blabs distracting him from his focus. “We could get out of here. We had fun the last time” the woman proposed with no success.

“Excuse me” Tre walks around her looking for Elle only to find her talking to an aggressive bouncer or body guard.

“Babe!” She smiles excitedly hugging him when he gets close enough.

“I was just telling security I can’t go on stage because I’m spoken for” Elle lies leaning her head on Tre’s chest as she puts his arm around her. “He said I was lying” she looks up at Tre who in turn glares at the man with enough disdain to make him turn away.

“Come on”

“Don’t be annoyed, we make a good team” Elle whispers heading to the bar to wet her palette. Just like that everyones phones go off. A storm warning. Grabbing Elles hand is Tre’s notice that the party over. Being out in a flood zone during a hurricane is idiotic.

“Slow down, these are five inch stilettos” Elle groans trying to keep up and free her hand of his all at once.

“We gotta get to a store then a hotel before the storm hits. Traffic will be crazy and its better we’re inside.” He instructs getting in and finding a target.

Elle wanted to say something smart but she withheld watching him instead. He always showed up in times of need. His personality type was protector and she respected that. So instead of stressing him out further she follows the orders helping where she can. Water, gatorade, snacks, everything left on the shelves. It was the smoothest an interaction had ever gone between the two of them. He noticed, noticed that and how she managed to make grocery and essentials shopping sexy.

Heading down the isle he puts gets his essentials, body wash, boxers, toothbrush, toothpaste, condoms, nail clipper, razors, aftershave and a few things to sleep in.

“Two rooms” he said passing his card to the woman at the front desk.

“Two rooms?” The older woman repeats looking between them. His words are a surprise to Elle too.

“We argued all the way here and he snores, between that and the storm I want some peace” Elle adds playing along to lessen the diss.

“And I don’t want all her shit in my bathroom - I want peace” Tre retorts but it only makes the older woman smile.

“A double room is the best I can do, same room two beds, two bathrooms, two doors a kitchen, hows that?” She asks.

“Cool” Tre agrees.

“Would you like to deal with the reservation and send her up with someone to help with the stuff?” She asks.

“She can go up, I’ll handle the stuff” Tre nods giving Elle the okay with the card key and her things.

“Two rooms?” The woman asks after.

“Its not like that Ro” he sighs.

“Why not, you usually don’t discriminate. She’s gorgeous and you’re paying”

“We’re neighbours and I don’t shit where I stay”

“Whatever you say, put that card away. Its on me” she smiles handing him his welcome package. He takes it looking at her and hesitating for a moment. The words are slow to come.

How’s mom?

“She’s still in treatment, doing decent enough, hoping you’ll come see her” Ro responds putting him out of his misery.

“Thanks” he taps the pamphlet on the counter walking away from his aunt and heading to Elle.

…

They’d been in the room for over an hour. Tre hadn’t moved from infant of the TV, tuned into the storm watch. Distance is what he was hoping for. He didn’t remember the last time the smell of women body wash made the entire space smell like it. He didn’t remember how long it took for women to shower, rather he didn’t know. He liked his space and never liked sharing. He didn’t expect Elle to look even better to him in a neglige without make up and a robe off the shoulder.

“So you know the front desk woman?” Elle asks just as perceptive.

“My aunt” he nods looking back at the tv.

“You know I thought you were crazy before but now I’m sure of it, this storm could be bad, could be stuck here awhile and you want two rooms and to stare at a tv” Elle reasons sitting beside him. The tension is thick.

Why am I holding back? 

He couldn’t quite call it. 

“I won’t beg, but I’ll stop using your washer machine. Don’t worry I won’t fall in love or stalk you or anything crazy. It’ll just be sex” Elle reasoned shocking him with her approach. Usually when woman propositioned him he knew they were lying about not catching feelings.

“What about the other girls?”

Elle smiles resting her hand on her fist as her elbow is propped on the couch to get a better view of Tre.

“I’m not insecure or sure it’ll even be that good” she teases turning up the temperature between them. “I’m no angel Tre, I just look like one” she says straddling his lap determined to get what she wants.

He takes a breath as she leans forward to get comfortable before putting a hand on his chest, leaning to his ear. “Come on, I know you want me on my knees. Tits bouncing as you fuck my mouth, or me from behind.” She whispers grinding slowly on his lap and giving his ear a little nip.

He looks up at her as she pulls away sitting on him upright like she wasn’t just being a fucking slut. Her hard nipples telling in her.

“On your knees” he demands.  For once she’s obedient climbing off of him to get between his legs. 

“You promised more eye candy” same tone it makes Elle hot as she removes the straps of her neglige letting the fabric fall to her hips. He didn’t make a move to touch her sitting there stoically waiting for her next move.

“I’m going to have fun tonight” Elle winks rubbing him through his jeans - determined to shatter his ‘so what’ persona by any means.

NEXT CHAPTER

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter of the series. How are we feeling about it? Talk to me !

_______________

TAGS: @bugngiz @lifelover4u @l-auteuse @notsomellowmushroom @princessasaani @heavensangelxo @bakarilennox @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @jad3djay 

[clelevanter]

@theyoungflexer tagged me to answer 10 questions that she made up and i’m answering them bc i love talking about myself on main but i’m also not tagging anyone back because then i’d have to come up with 10 questions and that seems like work >:) this blog is just an echo chamber im sorry

under the cut bc this is looooong (boi)

1. what’s the worst thing you’ve ever eaten?

“your mom” - @theyoungflexer. jk oh my god okay so when i was like in elementary school i went to a mcdonalds inside a walmart with my mom and i got chicken nuggets, and i bit into a chicken nugget and instead of chicken it was like,,, a solid chunk of rubbery fat. and it was deeply traumatizing and i think it’s contributed to my lifelong dislike of meat

2. describe your aesthetic as pretentiously as you can!

a housewife in the 1950s. she thought she married for love, maybe, a long time ago, but now she isn’t sure if it was love or if it was easy. and the years have gone by, and her face hasn’t aged and the neighbors whisper contemptuously that ‘of course she would look like that, wouldn’t you if you didn’t have children to wear you out?’ and she lights cigarettes with shaking hands, and all her dresses are neatly pressed in floral shades of blue and pink and her husband works longer and longer into the night and he doesn’t come home. and she sits on the floor and watches the washing machine spin round and round, and it’s twilight in america and she stares at an eiffel tower in a snow globe and wonders if she’s brave enough to try again

*was that pretentious enough i had fun in the back of my pontiac

3. would you marry your bias? why/why not?

taehyung? absolutely not. love him to death but absolutely not. i just think he’s a little too ill-adjusted/removed from reality to be a good boyfriend lol. also i think half the reason i like him is bc we’re really similar. and bc of that i don’t think he’d stabilize me, i just think i would find him emotionally frustrating. bang chan on the other hand, could put a ring on it anytime he wants. i think he’s a genuinely sweet person and i trust him implicitly whoopsie

4. what’s your favorite myth?

so basically i love the entirety of the iliad and could yell about the trojan war for hours. but that’s rlly long so if you want a shorter story i love the story of clytemnestra. absolutely heartbreaking 11/10 recommend

5. what’s your favorite meal?

a chile relleno with rice and beans from this place near my house! i could live off that stuff it’ll destroy your arteries but it’s like crack

6. what is your idea of true happiness?

dammit i asked this question and now i have to answer it don’t i? um. um. i think the true answer is i don’t know. i have ~ideas~ but i don’t really Know, you know? i keep thinking happiness is something i’ll achieve later in life, once i’m married or stable or old, but that’s not how life works is it :’) i think sometimes i’ll just look at someone, like a close friend or a family member or a pet, and time will just freeze for a second and i’ll think ‘wow, i’m happy right now.’ like a couple weeks back @theyoungflexer and i and i were feeding ducks at a mall by her house and she was wearing a floral dress and chasing one of them trying to get it to come back and the weather was really nice and i was standing there with a handful of birdseed and i was just like ‘wow! i’m happy right now!’ and think it’s those moments that kind of thread everything together, you know? hopefully i’ll have a lot more of those moments once i marry bang chan :P

7. if your life was a movie, what song would play during the opening credits?

okay we have options! they are:

‘new religion’ by the heydaze

‘tell her you love her’ by echosmith

‘tokyo (vampires & wolves)’ by the wombats

‘losing myself’ by shui and denae

‘downtown’ by wendlo

8. if you were a dinosaur, what dinosaur would you be?

apatosaurus, mayhaps? although my mom calls me ‘baby velociraptor’ so it might be out of my hands

9. where’s your favorite place to hang out/visit?

anywhere @theyoungflexer is :) (kinda serious doe) but also my favorite place to visit for extended stays is my aunt’s house in rancho santa fe. i used to spend a lot of summers there growing up, and i still take the train and visit when i can. i’m the baby out of my cousins, and i have a lot of clear memories of hiding sitting up in this tree in the driveway and watching everyone running around yelling and making food and generally just being -- and i always felt like nothing bad could ever happen to me there, like it was the one place in my whole life where i was completely and totally safe :’)

10. what do you HAVE to have on you when you go out?

my phone? is that boring? idk it’s the only thing i really Need when i leave the house

[blushingjared]

Can Anybody Hear Me?

We Get What We Deserve Prequel: Can Anybody Hear Me? (Eventual Sam x Dean x Reader x Castiel)

Square(s) Filled: Forced to Watch @badthingshappenbingo  Ship: None Yet Characters: Season 14! Chuck, Reader, Reader’s Parent’s, Dean, Sam, and Castiel (Briefly Mentioned) Rating: Mature Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Death of Parents, Religious Upbringing, Slight Torture, evil Chuck, Spoilers for the end of Season 14, Melodramatic Chuck

We Get What We Deserve Masterlist

Summary: You’ve grown up hearing stories of a vengeful God. How his wrath is mightier than anything known to man. You counted yourself lucky that you were never the reason for God’s Almighty Power; except now, you were. After losing your family and being forced into a permanent dream like state, by God. You’re used as distraction for Team Free Will, the three men that you’ve fantasized about for years. You know them as the saviors in your favorite books, but now they need to focus and try their best to save you.

A/N: So...I don’t know what else to say really. Let me know what you think and if this series interests you. Let me know and I’ll tag you. Beta’d by @sweetness47

A mother sits alone in a dark hospital room. To her right, her daughter sleeps peacefully in the hospital bed. Gentle sobs from the lonely mother mix with the continuous beeping noises of the machines that are keeping her daughter alive. The woman begs, pleads, with a trembling voice as she recites her prayers. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. I beg you Lord. Please release my daughter from this pain. I-I know you have your reasons Lord.” Her tearful eyes linger on her daughter for another moment before her hands drop from her prayer to gently take ahold of her daughters hand.

“If this be your will Lord, then give me the strength to withstand it.” She takes in a shuddering breath before slumping back and wiping away at her tears with the back of her hand. Minutes tick by as the mother becomes exhausted and falls asleep in the hospital chair, hand still clasped around her daughters.

One of the nurses in the ward glances up at the clock on the wall. She needs to make her nightly run through of the patients, mostly the ones with critical conditions. Grabbing her clipboard, she goes to stand and head to her first patient. Someone catches her attention though.

The man looks average in most ways, he isn’t too tall or short. Neither too handsome or too unattractive. He’s got soft eyes and a gentle smile as he wears a red suit jacket. She can’t put a name to the face, but assume he’s a family member of someone in her ward.

“Can I help you?” She asks, tilting her head as he steps closer. Though he looks average, the nurse feels some sort of energy radiating off of him and she isn’t sure how to place it.

“Yes,” The man clears his throat and rocks back on his heels. They must have been behind his back because almost out of nowhere the man produces a bouquet of flowers. “I’m looking for my niece, Y/N Y/L/N.” That name she recognizes, but gives him a sad smile.

“I’m sorry sir. Only family members listed on their contact information are allowed past visiting hours. I’m happy to take them to her though.” She reaches out to take the flowers, but Chuck pulls them closer to his chest.

“I think you’ll find I’m on the list. Chuck Shurley.” After a bit of hesitation, the nurse pulls the clipboard from under her arm to take a look through Y/N’s file. Right underneath  the girl’s mother and father, his name is listed. She could have sworn it was only the two.

“Well then, right this way sir.” Chuck follows close behind as they maneuver their way down the corridors.

“I didn’t hear much about what happened. Do you mind telling me how Y/N ended up here?”

The nurse gives a small ‘tsk’ before shaking her head. “It’s such a shame, really. The mother comes in with her daughter and husband, blubbering about..” She pauses to look back at the notes within the file. “That’s right, about Angels. Woman believes one of them came down and tried to take the three of them up to heaven.”

Poking her head inside, the nurse looks around the room to see if Y/N’s mother was asleep. She shakes her head slightly and sets the files on the table, Turing back to face Chuck. The name suited him, she thought, before performing her routine check up on the girl

“They were ready to be taken to heaven, until he just stopped and let them go. Apparently, her husband had already died and the angel was in the midst of taking her daughter. As far as it goes medically, their bodies were perfectly fine, they just stopped working. At least her daughter’s body was able to recover most of her bodily functions. Most of  her brain shut down though, not long after she was brought here. Sort of like a coma, but more like she’s in a really long nap.”

Chuck cleared his throat as he set the flowers down. “How’s the mom?” He asked as his gaze lingers on you, his head tilting as he narrows his eyes slightly.

“Inconsolable. She keeps begging for Heaven to come back down and finish what they promised. It’s insane, really.” A heavy sigh leaves the nurses mouth. “I feel bad. I really do.” With that said, she finishes her check up and heads to the door. “It’s good that they have more family. You need that in times like these.” Turning back around, the nurse shuts the door and leaves the room to go check on other patients.

Chuck snaps his fingers and locks the door, head turning to the mother and stepping closer. He smirks slightly as he snaps his fingers and both women awake.

Your eyes fly open and you struggle to breathe, with the tube that had been helping your body only moments earlier, still stuck in your throat. Though it’s barely there, you notice a sick and twisted smile on his lips. You try to call out for your mother, although nothing comes out.

Your mothers eyes lift to Chuck and before she can form words, she’s on her knees. Hands on the edges of his pants, pleading once more like she had during her prayer. “Oh Lord. You heard my prayer, you came back. I..I cannot thank you enough. Please, finish what you started. Take us with you.”

The man you knew as your Father’s murderer was standing right in front of you. You recognized him now. You knew what he was, but it all seemed impossible. It couldn’t really be him.

“Oh I will,” he grinned as he looked down upon your mother. He let his smirk drop to a frown as he snapped his fingers. You cried out, trying your best to do anything but something was forcing you down, an invisible pressure making you unable to sit up or pull the tube out to call for help.

Chuck was forcing you to watch as your mother’s body dropped to the ground, lifeless and nothing more than an empty shell. It only caused more tears to stream down your face, more pain to fill your heart. Not only had you been forced to watch your father die, now he had made you live through the same thing with your mother.

Taking a step over your mother’s corpse, he stepped towards you and smiled. With a snap of his fingers, the tube was removed from your throat, but the force was still there, still pining your body to the hospital bed.

“You...You can’t be real. This...This is just a dream.” You sob, knowing deep inside this was real, but unable to come to terms with what was happening.

“We both know that’s not true Y/N. This is real, all of it.” He grins and runs a hand over your face. “Oh don’t worry, I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

Resisting the urge to spit on his face, you stay calm and snarl at him instead. “I want my parents back.” A wave of sadness washes over Chuck and you half believe it’s because you’ve made him realize what his actions are. Of course he doesn’t and instead he pulls away from you, sighing in disappointment before ranting.

“No! Don’t you see? You and The Winchesters won’t fall in love unless you go through the same trauma of losing your parents to something supernatural. Think about it!”

“Sam and Dean aren’t real! They’re just characters from a book.” Chuck simply shakes his head, clearly you don’t understand.

“You lack imagination Y/N. I would have thought all that fanficition you write about my world would have made you more open to the fact that there’s more out there than you realize.” You desperately want to think he’s crazy, but the part of you that knows this might be true is growing more confident that..Supernatural was real.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You beg for an answer. “I’m nothing special.” A pained noise leaves your throat as he shakes his head.

“No, you aren’t, but I’m gonna make you special. Sam and Dean will be so busy dealing with you that they’ll forget to even come look for me.” Chuck grinned as he watched you look at him in horror. “Now, go back to sleep.” With a snap of his fingers, you fall back on the bed, asleep like he wanted.

Chuck picks you up and snaps his fingers, taking you away from the life you had once been apart of, and bringing you with him the the one you’d always dreamed of. He needed to bring you to Sam and Dean, but he also needs to plan things out, figure out the full plot of the story. Figure out where he wanted the story to go next, now that he had you.

So, he dropped you off in Lebanon, not five miles from The Bunker, right at the nurses station and then disappeared. He was confident in the fact that you would be found and then placed back under the care of doctors. He had things to do now, but he was certain you were going to enjoy your first dream.

Dean doesn’t ever really have good dreams. More often than not, he’ll have nightmares. It’s just something he’s had to deal with ever since he can remember. Tonight is one of those good nights. He dreams of saving a cute girl from a witch and getting a more than deserved thank you. It’s nice, the girl is pretty and more than eager to give Dean whatever he needs.

His eyes snap open as he hears voices begin to talk outside of his room. He grumbled and turns his body onto his side. “Do you think he’s ok? Dean didn’t say much on the drive back from the cemetery.” Sammy’s voice cut through the wood of the door as Dean pulled his pillow over his head to try and block out the noise.

Soon enough, Cas and Sam had walked away and Dean could sleep in peace. He remembered the girl’s face and her name from the dream. He didn’t know why she stuck with him, but it didn’t matter. When he drifted off and back to sleep, Dean thought of Y/N again. There was just something about her that made him feel that whatever God had planned for them, it would be ok.

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 55a

Cowritten with @disastrousintention.

-x-

Despite trying every trick and crazy idea she could think of nothing had worked. Fed up didn't even come close to describing Duffy's mood now she was just four days away from her due date. Even with crutches she was finding it almost impossible to get around due to the pain and discomfort she was suffering with. The baby was sitting low which had relieved some of the pressure on her lungs but only increased the pressure on her back and pelvis, which wasn't helped by the fact that due to her petite frame she was all bump, and a much bigger bump than she was used to at that!

Charlie was growing frustrated and impatient too. Only because he really, really wanted to meet his son. He was working and looking after Duffy, since she couldn’t do much on those crutches and she was still in a great deal of pain.

Charlie was just arriving home after a night shift when the phone rang. As she was stood next to it Duffy picked it up.

He placed his keys down on the side and removed his coat, hanging it up. “Who is it?” He mouthed.

"Not sure." She mouthed back before turning her full attention to the phone. "Mmhmm. Yes. Oh my gosh! Is he OK? Hang on, my husband has just walked through the door right this second." She covered the mouthpiece of the phone. "Its a hospital in Canada. Louis is OK but there's been a car accident." She explained as she handed the phone over.

He frowned as he took the phone, “Hello?”

The doctor on the other end of the line explained that although Louis had been unharmed by the crash other than a few cuts and bruises the other occupants of the car had been seriously injured so there was no-one to look after the boy.

“When you say seriously, how bad are we talking?”

"The boy's mother is currently in surgery and her partner is on a ventilator. The accident happened about six hours ago but we've only just been able to get your contact details from your son. He's very upset and shaken up."

“Ok.” Charlie sighed sadly, “You’re going to need to keep hold of him until I can get there. I’ll have to get the soonest flight but we’re looking at tomorrow before I’ll even get to Canada.”

"That's fine. Would you like to speak to him?"

“Yes please.”

There was rustling before a little voice could be heard on the phone. "Daddy!" Louis cried, sounding much younger than his eight and a half years.

“Hello son. It’s ok, daddy’s on his way.”

"I'm scared. Mummy wouldn't wake up. I tried everything!" The little boy sobbed and sobbed.

“Oh...” It broke Charlie's heart to hear Louis so sad and not being able to comfort him. He sat down on the stairs, “I know you would’ve tried everything! I’m very proud. Mummy will be ok.”

"She and Dan were fighting. I shouted at them to stop."

“Please don’t worry.” Charlie didn’t know what else to say or do.

"When will you be here?"

“Tonight, tomorrow? I don’t know. I need to look at flights.”

"OK. The doctor wants to look at me again."

“Will you stay with the doctor whilst daddy gets there?”

"OK. I love you daddy."

“I love you too, son.”

Duffy turned to look at Charlie as he hung up the phone. "You start looking at flights, I'll get your holdall packed."

“Thank you.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

By the time Charlie had organised the flights and gotten upstairs Duffy had only managed to get his clothes out onto the bed. She'd given up on trying to take the holdall down from the top of the wardrobe. She'd tried to knock it down with a crutch but that hadn't worked.

“Couldn’t reach?” He asked as he got the holdall out of the wardrobe. “Are you sure you’re going to be ok on your own?”

"You mean you haven't already organised a babysitter for me?" She asked sarcastically.

“No I haven’t. Haven’t had time.” He answered back.

"I'll be fine. You go to your son."

He nodded and began to pack the clothes.

"Give him lots of cuddles from me."

“I will, I promise.”

"I hope he's OK."

“I think he’s just scared and shaken up.”

"Poor baby." She sighed.

“I hope Baz is ok. I know we didn’t get on but...” He shrugged.

"Did they tell you much?"

“She's in surgery. Dan’s on a ventilator.”

"Oh my gosh, keep me in the loop once you get there."

“I will do.”

"Try not to worry. Everything will be fine and you'll be back home before you know it." She reassured.

He nodded, “I can’t help but worry though. That’s just me.” He kissed her tenderly.

"I know. We'll all be here with plenty of cuddles for you once you get back."

“Love you.”

"We all love you too."

He kissed her again and rubbed her stomach.

Duffy smiled as the baby gave a kick in response. "I think he's gunna miss you doing that while you're away."

“I’ll miss feeling him respond.” He smiled sadly.

"He'll help keep me company whilst you're away." She gave Charlie a kiss.

He returned the kiss before leaving.

Later that evening Duffy had just finished clearing after dinner when there was a knock at the door. Grabbing her crutches she slowly made her way over. She rolled her eyes as she opened the door. "Oh good evening ladies, what a total surprise to see the two of you on my doorstep!" She greeted them sarcastically.

“That’s not a very nice way to greet us.” Kate replied.

"I don't need babysitting!" Duffy complained.

"We'll be the judge of that!" Megan commented.

“Can we come in?” Kate asked.

"OK." Duffy replied, slowly moving out of their way.

“Thank you.” Megan and Kate entered the house.

Kate looked anxiously at Megan as she saw the difficulty her daughter was having walking even with the crutches.

Megan gave a reassuring smile.

"She's gotten worse since I saw her two days ago." Kate whispered to Megan.

“It’ll be the baby. Boys are stubborn.”

"I don't know why they haven't brought on her labour by now. Surely that would have been better?"

“There might be more risks to why they haven’t induced her yet.”

"Surely her heart issues would be the main concern?" Kate worried.

"Shall I just leave you two to talk about me in peace?" Duffy complained.

“Sorry.” Her mum said quietly and then sighed. “Do you want a drink?”

"No its OK, I'm not supposed to drink tea or coffee after 6pm but you're welcome to help yourself."

“Charlie called us. Said you might need our help.” Megan replied as she ushered Duffy to sit down in the lounge.

"I can cope just fine." Duffy sighed.

"Aunty Megan! Granny!" The girls squealed as they looked up.

“Hello girls.” Both women replied as they crouched down to hug the three girls.

"Daddy had to go on a plane." Tilly explained.

“He did, didn’t he?” Kate smiled, “So Granny and Auntie Megan came round to help mummy look after you.”

"Coz mummy can't walk without the special sticks?" Lottie asked.

“That’s right.”

"Why?" Emily asked.

“Because of the baby in her tummy.” Kate explained.

"Its coz she's so fat!" Jake smirked from the doorway.

“Jake! Pack it in.” Megan answered, “That's rude!”

"True though." He shrugged.

"Shut up doofus!" Peter exclaimed as he shoved his brother in the back.

“Ow!!” Jake squealed.

“Boys! Behave.” Megan shook her head, “Hello Peter. Gosh, haven’t you grown?”

"Hi Megan." Peter replied, clearing his throat slightly as although his voice had pretty much completely broken it still briefly changed pitch on occasion, much to Peter's horror.

"Boys please stop arguing!" Duffy sighed.

Jake began to laugh at his brother's voice. "You sound stupid!"

“Shut up.” Peter muttered. “Mum, do you need a hand with anything?”

"No you come sit down. Thank you for doing the washing up sweetheart."

“Mum?” Peter asked with a smile.

"Yes?"

“Can I go and see Sarah? Or is it too late?”

She looked at the clock. "As long as you're back home by 8pm. It is a school night."

“I will, I promise.” He kissed his mum’s cheek, “Love you.”

"Give my best wishes to Sarah and her parents."

“I will mum.”

"Text me when you get there. Love you."

“Yes mum, love you, bye.” Peter grabbed his coat and left the house, closing the door behind him.

Despite Duffy's objections that she would be fine she was left with no choice but to accept that Kate and Megan planned to stay over until Charlie returned home. They insisted on putting the children to bed between them. When she returned downstairs Megan was disgruntled but not surprised to find that Duffy wasn't on the sofa where they'd left her.

“Duffy? Where are you?” Megan asked as she shook her head fondly at the empty space on the sofa.

"Kitchen." Came the muffled reply.

Megan walked into the kitchen.

"Not a word!" Duffy told her before the older woman had chance to draw breath.

“Can I not even ask what you’re doing?”

"I'd think it was fairly obvious what I'm doing. It needs doing or my kids are going to school in their underpants tomorrow!"

“Can I help you? Or are you adamant on doing everything by yourself?”

"All that's left to do is turn the machine on but by all means feel free to do that for me!" Duffy replied, rolling her eyes.

“You are so stubborn! How does Charlie put up with you?” Megan joked.

"Why do you think he was so quick to run off to Canada?"

“For a break?” Megan shook her head, “Have you eaten?”

"Yes!" Duffy sighed. "I had a sandwich just before you arrived."

“How’s the baby?”

"Apparently very comfortable in there and getting bigger by the day!"

“I take it he doesn’t want to come out any time soon.” Once the washing machine was on, Megan made Duffy sit back down in the lounge.

"Doesn't seem to no." Duffy sighed. "I'm starting to think this is some kind of message from the fates."

“Message from the fates? What do you mean? You don’t still believe in all that, do you?”

"Well how else would you explain it?"

“He’s a boy. They’re lazy.” Megan replied.

"Peter and Jake had both arrived by this point."

“He’s your youngest son. They’re never easy.”

"Mmhmm." Duffy replied, her voice not entirely convincing.

“Your children were never going to be easy, Duffy. Not with yours and Charlie’s combined genes.” Megan laughed just as Kate came downstairs after saying goodnight to all the children.

"Why does everyone always accuse me of being stubborn and difficult?" Duffy grumbled.

[ruinedthatfriendship]

Start Again

A/N: Okayyyyy so I was talked into posting this, and yes I am aware it is the most trashy fanfiction trope I have ever written, and I was mildly disgusted when I found this in my drafts. 2014 me was a dumbass. This was also evidently supposed to have more chapters that were never completed. I’m actually not sorry about abandoning this one, though... 

I’m sorry this exists?

It took too long. Everything just took too long. It took an ambulance too long to navigate traffic, too much time to get her out of the wrecked car. Too much time to clean up her battered face before anyone even recognized her, too long before she got a bed in the ER. Too long before one of the doctors finally realized what was really going on, shoving a couple residents out of the way with a burr hole kit.

By the time they got the pressure down in her brain, and sent her up to surgery, she’d already had one seizure from the bleeding inside her skull, and she’d crashed in the elevator, arriving to the surgical suite with a nurse still riding on the gurney doing CPR.

By the time anyone found her emergency contacts, she’d been in surgery for two hours, without any word. By the time they got to the lobby, the driver of the car that hit her had been pronounced dead.

Simon hadn’t even known she’d set his information as an emergency contact. And apparently, it wasn’t just him she hadn’t told. Like every other detail of that horrible day, he would never forget facing Dianna and Eddie in the waiting room and spreading his hands helplessly, letting them shout at him while the only thing he had to offer was that he didn’t even know. And they were wasting time splitting hairs, couldn’t they see that? It didn’t matter anymore who Demi had been spending her time with or if he was too much older or her boss or anything else, not when they didn’t know if she was going to wake up. They didn’t have time to argue in the lobby of the emergency department, he just wanted to be able to see her.

A nurse had been anxiously watching the face off, clearly trying to remain professional even though this was probably the most gossip-worthy day of her career. “Mr. Cowell, sir, uh, Miss Lovato does have an advance directive in place and--”

“She made it after she got out of treatment,” Dianna cut in tearfully. “She said it was just in case,”

The nurse gave her a polite nod to acknowledge her, and then turned back to Simon. “We need to speak with you--”

“No!” Dianna protested, squeezing her husband’s hand. “That’s my daughter, he doesn’t get a say, I’m her mother, you can say whatever you have to say in front of me.”

The nurse--her nametag read ‘Angelica’--looked at Simon, waiting. “Sir?”

“It’s fine,” he said heavily, hardly believing that any of this was real. “And it’s just Simon, please.”

Angelica nodded, glanced down briefly at the chart in her hands. “Miss Lovato named you as her medical proxy, which means that you have the power--”

“I know what a medical proxy is.” Simon interrupted, feeling shock numb his body while his heart rate increased. Demi, baby, what did you do? “It shouldn’t be me. Give it to her parents, I can’t--”

“We don’t have that power.” Angelica said apologetically. “It’s a legal document that Miss Lovato signed willingly. We can take you back to wait, she should be out of surgery soon.”

“I’m coming,” Dianna insisted. Angelica just nodded at her; she was immediate family too, they wouldn’t refuse her.

A tense elevator ride later had them sitting in hard plastic chairs in a waiting area outside of neurosurgery, the sign itself almost giving Simon a heart attack. Brain surgery, because someone crossed the median while she was driving. And she’d gone to the trouble, sometime so long ago, to put her fate into his hands.

If what Dianna had said was true, that she’d written these things just after getting out of treatment, then it would have been before they were ever together. It would have been while the extent of their relationship was annoying one another at the judges’ desk, back at the very beginning. When the most he’d ever done was hug her and pinch her nose and call her a brat, she’d looked at him and imagined a day like this and signed her life into his hands.

“It shouldn’t be me.” he mumbled again, staring at his hands in his lap. “I don’t know what she was thinking.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t! I don’t know what you ever thought you were doing with my daughter, she’s my baby and you can’t just take advantage--”

“Dianna,” Eddie murmured, squeezing her hand. His eyes were angry too, he looked ready to strangle Simon, but they were making too much noise in the waiting room.

Demi’s surgery took six endless hours. And when the surgeon finally came out, Simon already knew. The set of his jaw and the look in his eyes wasn’t good news, he could only hope it wasn’t a death sentence.

“Is she alive?” he spat out in a low voice, fists clenched and not sure if he was ready for the answer.

The surgeon nodded shortly, sending a rush of relief through Simon that was quickly tempered by the rest of his words. “She’s still unconscious, and not anywhere close to out of danger. We’re keeping her heavily sedated for now, and you can see her, but I want to warn you, she does have a lot of tubes right now, she won’t...look like you expect.”

“I don’t care.”

“Her vitals are good, but she did sustain severe trauma to her brain. I trust I don’t need to tell you how serious that is, Mr. Cowell. She’s alive and stable, but I can’t make any promises about her recovery until she wakes up.”

“What are you saying?”

“She may have cognitive deficits. We just have to wait and see. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I can take you to see her now.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asked quietly, holding tightly to his wife’s hand. “What...what can we expect?”

The doctor shot him an apologetic look. “We have no way of knowing, right now. Injuries like Demi’s have had a variety of outcomes, from full cognitive function to brain death. Obviously, given that her responses to stimuli are intact, she’s in as good a place as we can hope for right now. If we were to see any negative effects when she wakes up, it would likely be fairly mild.”

Eddie seemed to relax just infinitesimally at those words, and he was first into the room after the doctor, Dianna on his heels. Simon, exhausted in every possible way, didn’t bother fighting them and followed slowly, trying to brace himself before laying eyes on her.

Nothing could have prepared him, really. She looked peacefully asleep, if not for the washed-out paleness of her skin and the unceremoniously shaved side of her head, a line of stitches crossing her scalp.

Her lips were cracked and parted around a tube in her throat, cuts and bruises and butterfly bandages littering every visible inch of her skin as she lay there, looking tiny and helpless in that hospital bed.

Dianna sobbed and lurched forward, reaching for her daughter’s hand. Demi had a grey plastic clip on one finger, and an IV running into the back of her hand, and hers stayed limp while Dianna held on.

Eddie moved to stand beside her bed as well, one gentle hand tracing her hairline and sweeping the long side of her unplanned undercut off of her forehead.

Simon just swallowed hard, temporarily frozen. Demi belonged on the stage, larger than life with her incredible voice, she belonged laughing and stumbling in high heels and bodily attacking him with the promise of getting him sick. She belonged barefoot in the kitchen with her nose wrinkled up in concentration as she tried to cook, on the floor playing with his dogs, on the couch in a heated debate about Netflix. She belonged with fire in her eyes and love and laughter on her lips, she was not meant to lie here, so fragile and broken.

He found himself moving to the other side of her bed, ignoring the glares of her parents, and tracing the word on her wrist as he reached to grab her hand. “She’s strong,”

The doctor awkwardly returned just then, telling them that Demi was technically only allowed one visitor at a time, and Dianna stayed at her bedside while Simon and Eddie went back out to the hard plastic chairs.

***

It marked the beginning of the worst week of Simon’s life. He cleared his schedule and spent it almost entirely in the hospital, as did Demi’s parents. And if she’d been awake, she’d have scolded all three of them and set the record straight. Without her, and unwilling to alienate her family while she lay unconscious, Simon just endured their anger, pushing back only when they tried to keep him away from her. But he still couldn’t really blame them.

He’d had to give his permission for them to pull her off sedation and remove her machines after the third day. Tonight would be the eighth since the accident, and Demi still hadn’t woken. Her doctors were at a loss, explaining only that sometimes the body needed more time. That she wasn’t quite in a coma, yet. Simon knew what they weren’t saying, though. Her chances of recovery went down with every day she remained in an unconscious state.

For the moment, it was his turn at her bedside, while Eddie had finally convinced Dianna to let him take her home and take a breather. Simon was sitting on the edge of her bed and looking down at her face, which only looked more sleep-like and tranquil as her bruises began to fade. He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand, swallowing hard. “Come on, Dem,” he murmured. “If you can hear me, baby, I need you to wake up. Please,” he added in a whisper, fear threatening to choke him.

He’d lived over half his life without her, and she’d come in and rearranged everything so completely in such a short time. And now he was facing down the possibility of her leaving as suddenly as she’d come, permanently, and leaving him to live the rest of it without her. It was a bleak existence he didn’t particularly want to contemplate. One that might require some tattoos of his own to get through it. But it wasn’t going to be like that. She was going to make it through this.

Simon leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead gently, wishing he could hold her properly. She was cold and still so fragile and she smelled like the hospital and faintly like the burning metal of her accident, and he wanted nothing more than to take her home and deposit her in a warm bath, wrap her up between his sheets and hold her and never let her leave again.

But for that, she’d have to wake up.

“You’re such a brat,” he whispered, trying for humor. “Making us sit here waiting on you.”

Demi did nothing but breathe, her heart monitor beeping rhythmically in the silent room. Simon sighed, and squeezed her hand again. “Come on, Demi. You can do this. I love you, brat, just open your eyes.”

He collapsed back into the chair at her bedside, still without letting go of her hand, and bent his head over their laced fingers like he was at prayer. And he hadn’t given himself permission to cry--he didn’t cry--but there were tears falling onto her cold fingertips anyway, and when Eddie roused him later with a firm hand on his shoulder, it was with a bleak expression and red eyes.

Her father said nothing, and Simon just sighed and stood, feeling his back pop in retaliation for sleeping in that damn chair. And he was just about to let go of her hand when he felt the clip on her finger shift. It was a fool’s hope, he’d probably just bumped it with his own hand, but it was enough to glance back at her one final time.

And it was weak and uncoordinated, but her fingers moved, tightening around his hand as best they could, in a gesture no one could mistake. Simon’s heart jumped in his chest, and he turned to Eddie without ever letting go of her. “She squeezed my hand,”

And then Eddie was smiling over his shoulder with tears in his eyes, and Simon glanced down again to find her brown eyes looking up at him with such a quintessentially Demi bemused expression that he almost broke down crying again in relief.

“Hey, love,” he said softly. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Demi coughed, making a face, and looked straight past him. “Dad?”

“I’m right here, Demi.” Eddie assured her.

“Dad, my head hurts.” Demi whimpered, scrunching up her face. Simon reached over to press the call button at her bedside, earning a tentatively grateful nod from her father for it.

Demi dropped his hand quite suddenly, reaching toward Eddie, and Simon tried not to feel hurt. She was here, she was alive, she was awake. She was talking and aware, her brain wasn’t damaged, she was here. He’d take what he could get.

“I don’t understand,” she was saying weakly, looking between Eddie and Simon as quickly as she could without moving her head. “What--I…”

Her doctor and a nurse interrupted her, Dianna hot on their heels. “Baby!”

Demi’s face initially brightened, but then crumpled again in confusion. “Not you,” she was murmuring, almost to herself. She’d let go of Eddie’s hand now, too, and stared down at her own fingers, turning them over in examination almost as if she wasn’t quite sure she was real.

“How are you feeling, Demi?” the nurse was asking, an expression on his face that said he was entirely over the number of people crowding his patient.

“I’m...did I overdose?” Demi asked in a small voice, still not looking at anyone.

“No,” Simon rushed to reassure her, wishing he could be closer than where he’d ended up, almost in the doorway. “It was a car accident, darling.”

Instead of relief, Demi’s face only registered further alarm. “A car accident? Why...why was I driving? I’m sorry, Mama!” she burst out, panic in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what I did, I--”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dianna reassured her. “You’re okay, baby. The other driver was on the wrong side of the road. Not you.”

“I wasn’t supposed to leave,” Demi whispered, sounding terribly ashamed.

“Baby, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dianna was almost crying again. “You’re okay, Demi. It’s okay!”

“Demi, is it okay if I ask you some questions now?” her doctor cut in, smiling politely. Demi nodded weakly, and Dianna reluctantly took a step back.

“Okay, can you go ahead and tell me your full name, hun?”

“Demetria Devonne Lovato,” Demi returned, still looking down at her hands like she didn’t quite know what to do with them.

“How are you feeling right now, Demi?”

Demi shrugged. “My head hurts. Everything...kind of hurts.” she tried to play it off, but Simon could see the pain in her eyes. “I guess it makes sense if I was in an accident,” she mumbled.

The doctor nodded swiftly. “We can start you on some painkillers. Something non addictive, don’t worry. Do you remember your accident at all?”

Demi shook her head, looking agitated again.

“Okay, what’s the last thing you do remember?”

She hesitated. “Um, therapy. My session in the morning. I’m guessing it’s not today anymore, though?”

“Demi,” Simon started, ignoring all of the looks suddenly shot his way. “You didn’t have therapy that morning, darling.”

Demi made a familiar irritated face, starting to wave him off in her usual fashion, before she paused, her eyes flicking over his form rapidly. “Wait a second.” she said slowly. “I know you.”

Simon’s entire body went numb at her words. “Demi?” he said hoarsely.

She snapped her fingers impatiently. “You’re...I sang for you, you didn’t stand up. American Idol. You’re the judge guy, the rude one...Sa--Si--Simon. Simon Cowell.” She looked momentarily pleased with herself, and then made a face that would have been comical in any other situation. “Why the hell are you here?”

[bonfire-at-the-crossroads]

Rutger Hauer has passed, and is on his way through the stars, toward the shoulder of Orion and the Tannhauser Gate.

He gave himself to the world of film and created characters which will continue to inspire the people lucky enough to share in the dreams he left behind.

I wrote this a couple years ago - and maybe it’s time to look at it again.

Thank you Mr Hauer for leaving this place a little brighter for your having been here.

Good journey, peace at last.....

————————————————————————————————————-

January 8, 2016

It's Roy Batty's birthday.

Ridley Scott's 1982 movie - Blade Runner - cast Rutgers Hauer as the renegade Replicant in search of his maker.

The film was a brilliant adaptation of Philip K Dick's "Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?"

Roy and a small group of Nexus-6 Replicants, have stolen an off-world transport, killed the crew, and returned to earth - in an attempt to coerce their designer to extend their programmed four-year lifespan. January 8, 2016 was the day of Roy's inception, and also the day his genetic coding has scheduled him for death.

He is being hunted by Harrison Ford, as hired-gun Deckard - a Blade Runner - paid to track and kill escaped Replicants.

----------------------------------------------

In 1982 - the idea of the year 2016 was a mind-numbing distance away.

"The Future" was a place where anything was possible, and our wildest dreams would come true.

It seems like yesterday.

And yet, when I started thinking about the world I inhabited in '82, and where I've washed up on the shores of 2016 - it's been quite an extended sea voyage.

I was married to somebody else.

We walked into town to the little movie theater on Central Avenue, and as we moved to our seats, were told by the usher ( yeah, that's right - there were still ushers ) -"You shouldn't even bother with this movie. It stinks. Four people at the last show actually asked for their money back."

We loved it.

Minds were blown - and we went back two more times, bringing friends.

That Christmas Eve - I had a small stroke. I was 26.

At the time, I was more worried about how the news would affect my husband - and did not fully appreciate my own predicament. He overheard the doctor on the phone making arrangements for what was then, the only echocardiogram machine in the New York area.

"Is that about you?" He asked. I nodded.

My husband passed out cold on the waiting room floor.

I survived. Had test after test after test, and slowly got my left side back under my own control.

Time passed.

We tried for the baby - and a series of horrors led to the loss of pregnancy, and culminated with a 3:00 AM visit to the emergency room.

The husband was so upset - he left me by the hospital entrance, and drove home.

When he inevitably decided that he needed "space" and wanted to "take a break" -(clearly, his office-affair had nothing to do with this decision ) - I used the time to take a good long look at the marriage.

When he came back three months later - I was not the girl he had walked out on.

The world had changed, and so had the locks.

-------------------------------------------------

I moved into the West Village with a girlfriend. It was awkward having a roommate after having a husband, home, and mortgage - but I made it work.

An unusual boyfriend followed, and several years of actors, artists, and cabaret performers filled my days and nights.

It was Manhattan in the '80's. There were nights out spent dancing at the clubs til dawn.

The Met was open late on Friday nights, and my group of fellow oddballs wandered the museum halls every week for over a year.

Art and illustration was my livelihood. I knew everyone in the Village ( at least by sight) and was completely comfortable in my element.

But my friends got sick.

And my friends started dying.

AIDS ravaged the world.

The Village was ground zero, and everyone was terrified. We didn't know where it was coming from, didn't know how to cope with the skeletal friend, the friend covered with sarcoma blotches - was it the end of the world?

In many ways - yes. It was.

The best, brightest, most talented people on earth were dying out - and all I could do was hold hands at the bedside, and attend memorial services.

There was a three month period when I went to a service EVERY SINGLE WEEK.

My dearest friend, Bruce - I never even knew when he was well. We were fellow illustrators, and spent hours a day with phone cocked between shoulder and ear - talking while we drew in our separate studios. He was in Chelsea, I was on the corner of Perry and West Fourth.

We brought children's books to life, and loved the work.

As AIDS ravaged his body, he needed to take long naps in the afternoons. His fever would spike uncontrollably - he called it "Shake and Bakes."

He fussed over the ugly sarcoma lesions which appeared on his arms and hands - he found a theatrical makeup which he swore would cover them up so that nobody would know.

Everybody pretended that it worked.

"Well, my sweet darling angel - I took a shower this morning, and guess what? I watched all my hair go down the drain."

Some medication he was taking, combined with what may have been a chemotherapy cocktail - took every hair on his head.

He entered the shower - with.

Exited - without.

He had been told this might be a possibility, and had already purchased a wig from a professional Broadway wig-maker.

It was awful looking, but we continued to pretend.

He slipped farther away, and was hospitalized on a closed floor reserved for AIDS patients.

I visited every single day.

I brought tiny gifts, saved up stories to make him laugh - and built my day around spending time with him.

His family wouldn't come and see him. Friends did their best, but simply couldn't be with him when push had finally come down to shove.

I remember shouting at his brother on the pay phone in the hospital hallway "I can't make this better. I'm not allowed to make decisions for his care, because I'm not a family member. He is dying, and you need to be here."

He wasn't.

I held Bru's hand, and wiped his forehead. I asked the nurse to turn up his oxygen because he was struggling and begging for air. "It's as high as it will go." she said - and even though it was time for all visitors to leave, she said I could stay.

The day before, he had spent time with a priest who had given him what I now believe was last rites. He seemed comforted, and we said what needed to be said.

"You know Bru....I will ALWAYS love you."

He smiled and said. "I know. And I will always love you too."

He took his last breath a little before midnight.

I closed his eyes.

Twenty seven years have passed since that night.

-----------------------------------------------

The unusual boyfriend fell victim to his own silliness. He convinced himself that another woman was sending him messages about being attracted to him - and he needed "some space" to explore the magic.

He did.

She didn't

And I was magically single again.

As 1990 dawned - the Internet had not been invented.

The cell phone - wasn't.

Video rental stores were visited daily, and made money hand-over-fist.

Blonde, Madonna, and all that wonderful 80's music that my kids now think is divine - were the sounds of the decade.

And I didn't quite trust CD's.....

Times Square was just beginning to shed the peep shows and adult movie houses.

It was gritty, and how I loved it.

July 4th of 1990 I found myself eating in the diner downstairs from my apartment on the corner of 14th St and Seventh Avenue.

It was empty.

I ate my bluefish dinner and went back upstairs to the drawing board.

One single red rocket cleared the rooftops and the stars rained down.

I was bored.

Decided to place a personal ad in The Village Voice. "Looking for an interesting conversation over a cup of coffee....." and some other minor nonsense.

Over 350 people responded in the three days I checked the answering machine.

"I've never answered a personal ad," said the voice on the phone."I live with a grey cat. And I'm reading DUNE. Maybe you could call me, and we'll get a cup of coffee?"

On our third date, he never went back home.

"You know what? It's getting kind of silly to keep paying for an apartment to keep my cat in...."

"So what are you saying?" I asked. "Are you asking to officIally move in here?"

" Nope. Let's get married. It'll be fun. I'm not exactly getting younger - either are you. Why not?"

"It'll either work - or it won't. What's the reason that we shouldn't at least TRY?"

He talked me into it.

Brian and I were married in the Cathedral of St John the Divine, three months after our first date. Twenty five years ago, last October.

Babies happened. Three in a row. "Irish triplets" as my obstetrician called them.

Quinn.

Morgan.

Maddie.

They were (and are ) the three finest people I have ever known - and are the center of my soul.

Brian and I survived critical fulcrum points where the smallest waver would have plunged all of us into hell.

We stared death in the face - death blinked, and looked away,

more than once.

We walked away from alcoholism.

Left cigarettes behind,

Did battle with depression,

and kept walking....

We've skated on the thinnest of financial ice for YEARS.

We've worked and worked and worked some more - and it was never going to be enough to keep the ship afloat.

The kids, as we've laughed over the years have "Never missed a meal."

Nothing was easy, but our youngest will be the third to graduate from college in the Spring. Yes, there are loans to be paid - and we'll do everything we can to help them gain traction in their lives.

About a year and a half ago we took a good hard look at where the road was leading us. Our ability to maintain the income necessary to support our lives in Westchester county, in a big house with a big mortgage - huge utility bills, and a dwindling job market - we came up with a plan.

The bank was unhappy with our syncopated mortgage payment schedule - and really wanted their house back. Things were sliding downhill, and we simply couldn't stop it.

"Let's take the money from my last free-lance job, and buy a house in Ireland."

Found one.

And did.

Sold the house in Westchester.

Packed up everything we could.

Got on the plane.

And here we are.

January 8th, 2016, and it's 1982 all over again.

The Replicant is out of time.

He sits high on the rooftops above the city, rain is pouring from the black skies - and Roy Batty,- in his last moment of life - knows what it is to be fully human.

"I've seen things, you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain."

We all go through the motions. We get out of bed every day, and do our best to keep our lives and our families moving forward.

We work.

And plan.

And strive for happiness.

I'm no Roy - but I too, have seen things that will pass away with me when I go.

I, too, have learned what it is to be fully, and completely - human.

[kerbieaddis]

How I Got My Agent

Well, here's a post I never thought I'd have the chance to write.

After 6 years of writing seriously, several manuscripts, multiple contests, hundreds of queries, and a metric ton of determination, I am over the moon to announce I have an agent.

I can't even begin to tell you guys how happy I am. I have a long road ahead of me still, with revisions and going on submission, but having someone in my corner is such an incredible boost to help me fight through self-doubt.

My writing journey has been long and (literally) bloody, but for this post I'll just focus on the book that got me an agent. Before I wrote this book, I'd made up my mind to only write something if I really loved it. I was finishing up my master's degree, making plans to move to Philadelphia, and really didn't have time to write something new.

One night, after calming me down from an anxiety attack, my husband, Chris, said: "Don't you wish there was a machine that could erase all the bad memories?"

I thought on this for a moment. Part of me welcomed the idea of erasing bad memories, but as someone with a family history of Alzheimer's disease, it simultaneously terrified me. For that to work, I thought, it would need to be an artificial intelligence. Something that could sort the memories. I thought of my miscarriage from years earlier and how even though it was a terrible memory and had brought on several new anxiety triggers, it had lit a fire under me. Would I want to erase that? How would an artificial intelligence understand that I valued the bad memories?

I told Chris my thoughts. "But what if an artificial intelligence couldn't tell the difference between bad or good memories?"

"Sounds like a good science fiction idea."

But I can't write science fiction, I thought. I'm not smart enough. I don't know anything about science, how could I write science fiction? So I tucked the idea away as something that someone else could write. But not me.

And I didn't write anything on that book for a year and a half. But one day, when washing dishes, I heard in my head the voice of the villain. He only said one line, which is a spoiler, but it made the rest of the book suddenly click into place. I stopped washing dishes and scrambled for my computer, typing frantically with soapy hands.

Within an hour, I had my outline.

What I didn't understand about the science behind my plot points, I researched. I live near an academic library and spent many exhausted nights over quantum computing textbooks and articles about the ethics of artificial intelligences.

In one month, I had a first draft.

In three months, I had a final draft and a thumbs up from all my critique partners.

I started querying, knowing I had lots of rejection ahead of me. Previously, I had queried manuscripts for about a year before giving up, so I expected the timeline to be similar.

I had difficult classes, which was a welcome distraction from thinking about my queries floating in cyberspace. To finish a 25-page paper, I stayed up for two nights and finally turned it in, signaling my completion of that semester. Before passing out in bed, I checked my query email. I wasn't expecting anything, really, since I'd only been querying for a month and just a few people had responded so far.

I had one email. An agent wanted to talk on the phone.

I became lightheaded. I staggered down the hall and mumbled something to Chris about "someone wants to talk" which he found hilariously ominous. I was so sleep-deprived I could barely comprehend what was happening, so I asked my husband to read the email.

"They want a phone call," he confirmed.

It was Friday, which meant the phone call was scheduled for Monday. This agent's timing couldn't have been more perfect. I think if I would've gotten their email while still writing papers, I might have failed that semester because there was no way I could concentrate on anything else.

Monday came, finally, and we had our phone call. I vibrated with anxiety the entire time. Chris had "phone call duties" which involved herding our pets, keeping them quiet, and sitting by with a notebook to write down all the key points of the call since I knew I would be utterly useless to remember anything once the adrenaline faded.

It was an offer! The agent loved my book. They had ideas for revision, which I agreed with. They were kind and supportive and had great ideas. I got off the phone with my heart soaring. They were perfect.

But then I had the task of notifying all other agents. I only had out around 20 queries, so luckily that didn't take long.

More full requests came in. Each time, I nearly threw up with stress. One agent asked for the full, an agent I'd admired for a long time, but I didn't get my hopes up. I queried them because they liked my previous manuscripts, but I always assumed dark/horror wasn't their cup of tea.

A week later, when eating salad at a restaurant with my husband, I got an email from that very agent. They wanted a phone call.

I tossed my fork and grabbed a spoon, shoveling salad into my mouth. "They want a phone call in two hours," I explained to Chris, and he too, began scarfing down food.

We raced home and I panic-prepared for the phone call. Chris resumed his "phone call duties." Can I just say thank God for supportive spouses?

The phone call happened. Another offer! The agent was absolutely incredible. They talked about the themes in the book, themes I thought most people wouldn't catch. They wanted heavier revisions than the other offering agent, but as they explained what worked and what didn't work, I made a suggestion, and they added to that suggestion. I was suddenly overcome with an itch to work on the story again, because their enthusiasm and ideas sparked my creativity.

I told the agent I was surprised they liked the book so much, since I'd always assumed they disliked horror. "Pure horror, yes," they explained, "but not books with horror elements. Plus your book reminds me of Annihilation."

I swooned. Annihilation is one of my favorite books, and I had been trying to recapture the ominous unknown fear of that book in my own.

I got off the phone, shaking. Now I had a decision to make. I loved both agents, but I could only choose one.

I made a pros and cons list. I asked my friends their opinions on each agent and their agency. I did hours of googling. Each time a new email popped up, I was actually praying it wasn't another offer. I didn't want the decision to be any harder. My deadline was soon after Christmas, so several agents did email to ask for more time. More than one said they were leaning towards offering, but that they never offer without finishing a manuscript.

After lots of stressful crying, throwing up, and cramming chocolate in my face, I had my decision.

I officially signed with Bridget Smith of Dunham Literary. She was the agent I believed I had zero chance with, but in the end, she was the one who understood my book the most. Her revision ideas were so incredibly brilliant and they made me crave writing again, which is exactly what I want in an agent.

Anyway, I know when I read these stories, I loved to see statistics, so here's the querying stats on my sci fi:

Queries Sent: 20

Rejections: 8

No Response: 4

Full Requests: 8

Offers: 2

I think if there's anything I want other writers to take from this, it's don't give up and don't self-reject. I rolled my eyes when reading that on other "How I Got My Agent" stories, but it's true. I self-rejected a LOT. I even put off writing this book, which is probably the best thing I've ever written, because I assumed I wasn't "smart enough" to write it. You can do anything if you put the work in.

Maybe it won't be this manuscript, and that's okay. Maybe your writing isn't ready. Maybe the market isn't ready. But keep going, because with each manuscript you finish, it's another step on the journey.

Speaking of, I still have another journey ahead of me, and that's revision, so I should get back to it. If you got this far, thanks for reading, and good luck!

[freelyhauntedqueen]

I am Me

I was raised by different people that's makes me different. So let's go back from the start. I was born in a simple house in the farm on the third of march in the year of the tiger, 1998 in Baroy Lanao del Norte. I have two sisters and one brother. We are all 7 in my family including my parents. I was happy being innocent, playing in the river, field of rice, riding the coconut to slide. I started my youth there everything was so happy and enjoy. Happiness has an end i need to step up in life. I started my first grade in Limuag Elementary School also part of the Baroy. There everything is new, that time i found out that the place is big or huge its not that in our house only. I met a lot of friends met a lot of ne things and also as I step up i grow up not physically but mentally. That first grade was not ao memorable coz i only remember is to play around. Then vacation comes I was I mean we was introduced in my Father side family. My father decided then, that we must move for good. He thinks its better for us, specially for the future because its near in the school not like in the place i was born is not that civilized and the school is too far that we need to walk for long just to get there. In that reason my mother agreed and for that reason i never felt thag my family is complete. When we move my mother stays in Baroy and we started new life in my father's place in Kauswagan Lanao del Norte. Kauswagan is so different i become ignorant i was amazed by the new things i see. I was igorant how to use washing machine and how the water comes out in the faucet. Everything was so different. When I was enrolled , Im with my brother that time we enter the same grade and section Kauswagan Central Elementary School. We were put in the last section. But its doesn't matter because ouw teacher always complementing that we are smart. As years pass and move to another grade i was put in the first section but we are no longer batch with my brother for the reason i was held back in third grade because i missed my mother that time so i went back to my mother's place and stop my study but father is eager so i went back. Years passes in my last grade in elementary was so memorable I fell in love i had best friend . Playing and made a lot of mistakes. In my sixth grade while playing catching i accidentally scratch my classmate that time i was afraid because he is totally hurt there's even a blood in it. He also my crush that time. I dont know why i was afraid , seems nothing to him but i was so nervous what if his parents knew then i will be scolded. Graduation is coming, well its first graduation for me im always attend in the practice i even position in a good spot everyone is so excited so do I. But it changes when I knew that no one is coming for me to attend my graduation so I didn't attend too. Before graduation i went to my mother place and stay there. There's this a sister of my Father wanted to take me and to be responsible for my study for the future, she wanted because she and her husband cannot produce a life. Its like adopting me but not literally. Then in my mind i want it, its a yes for me but my mother disagree because its too far my mother has lot of what ifs. My mother even took all of my things and me to keep me but my father argue and push his decision so i went to my Aunt, her name is Mercedes. It's true that's its really far, almost ten hours travel. But for me its nothing i really like to travel and to explore new world. The world that i never expected, in Zamboanga Del Norte is a totally new world to me. Its hard to talk at first for the reason i didn't know anyone. When i enter new school its a university, Jose Rizal Memorial State University most oc my classmates there are rich coz most of their parents are professional. There i learn to dance though elementary days im already dancing. But that dance made me a connection to my first boyfriend he teaches me til we fell to each other. That's almost end of the school year but it doesn't matter because iur house is near since we live in the university campus, my aunt was so against that time she didn't know til they know in unexpected way. When it came to second year high school, its changes and also challenge our relationship because my Aunt wanted me to transfer to other school though the reason is not that but for them to take care the business. My aunt has a business in other municipal in Liloy Zamboanga Del Norte. There i was transferred in Second year second grading is a National Highschool. I enrolled BV there without bringing any requirements though its really needed but my uncle made a connection so i was enrolled sad to say i was put in the second section. That time in the second year theres 10 section still lucky because i was not put in the lower. Then when another year come I prove it that i deserve a spot in the first section so i move to the first section I enter in the choir and made to a science camp.My fourth year high school is so boring, we dont have prom for the reason last year prom was so dull of issue because lot of students got pregnant. I dont know why but i lost interest in my study I dont get either good grades. Graduation comes we were not so happy because we are not wearing a tog, we are the batch that full of unluckiness. After graduation we celebrated in Dapitan we went to fanasyland and Rizal Shrine. The ride in Fantasylans was so breathtaking i even get totally scared in their Horror House. College come I went back to the first school I enter in Zamboanga Del Norte the JRMSU also know as Jose Rizal Memorial State University. I dont enrolled my self their my uncle did coz he is a prod in College od Engineering so he do all my paper works , then he chose AgEng or Agriculture engineering. I even absent in the first day, im that spoiled. Im the person doesn't forget easily past are remain fresh to me so when I met my old classmates their its seems nothing changes. Unfortunate happen i made a total mistake that changes my life. Its a matter of pride and future. Then too much pride i made my life miserable i chose to stop my study and went back in my hometown in Kauswagan Lanao del Norte. There I do nothing but "tambay" little assistant in a small store of my aunt. Back 2018 i went back being senior high school in Iligan City National School of Fisheries taking a Humss strand there i met new friends that inspired me and helped me. Im consistent honor student and taking this life more serious and to give importance my study. Now im 21, and graduating.