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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (1/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! Anon, I assume you wanted to see each individual relationship with the girls and not OT4 x Reader. If not, I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this regardless.

This post includes Jisoo and Jennie. If you would like to see Rosé and Lisa's, click the link below.

Click for Rosé and Lisa

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jisoo

Kim Jisoo: The girl at the top of her class, breezing through her school years with little competition whatsoever. She was used to winning, and anyone that ever tried to challenge her eventually gave up.

You: Also used to being at the top of your class, you were the first person to actually give Jisoo a run for her money. You didn't shy away when challenged by her, and that took her aback.

Your rivalry was one rooted in academics.

When a new project was assigned and you were allowed to choose your teammates, everyone would flock to the two of you in hopes of getting picked.

Bragging rights were awarded to whoever had the longest line of people.

Impatiently waiting to see who scored higher on tests.

Rubbing it in when you did better, and vice versa.

"Ha! Take that, Jisoo. I got a 98."

"Don't get cocky, Y/N. I beat you by 6 points last week."

"Yeah, yeah," you brush her off. "Look who's on top now." You hold your paper up, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

Other competitions were held, and even the teachers caught on and would adjust their lessons accordingly.

"Class, today we'll be having a set of one on one debates, and an anonymous vote will determine the winner of each. The person who defends their opinion the most effectively will win. Jisoo and Y/N, you're up first."

Although losing was always annoying, it made you respect each other a little more.

You both loathed and revered each other, though you'd never let that secret out.

Fighting for the best scholarships and rankings.

Constant bickering and one liners in class

"Should I go ahead and apologize now, or is it okay to wait?"

"Apoligize for what?"

"Ending your career."

*unintelligible mumbling*

"What was that, Y/N?" Jisoo inquires, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her eyes at you.

"I said: you're going down."

She scoffs at that, unaffected. "Please, I'd like to see you try."

You ended up winning that day, and she was all *surprised pikachu*

School would always be interesting and eventful with her

Pretty much everyone else can tell that you have a thing for one another, but the two of you remain oblivious.

Turning Point

Both of you joined the academic team when you enrolled, which meant that you'd be going toe to toe with other school teams in pursuit of the winning title.

On one of your overnight field trips to face off against another school, you were assigned to the same hotel room.

"Mrs. Wilson, I can't stay with her--" You walk down the hotel hallway behind your instructor, hoping she'll see your point. Her reasoning for putting you together on the roster is beyond you.

"Y/N, it's only for a night. You know we can't afford to give all of you individual rooms; our budget's already small." She reasons, eventually turning towards you when she reaches the elevator.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, putting your hands up.

What she says next surprises you. "Who knows, you might enjoy it." A knowing look shines in her eye, and a small smirk threatens to tug at her features.

The elevator dings just as you go to question her about it, and she bids you farewell before heading in.

You can do this, Y/N. It's just one night; how bad can it be? You ask yourself, taking your sweet time in going back to the room.

---

An Hour Later

In an attempt to kill some time and recover from the fatigue your long road trip brought on, you've been trying to relax and take a nap. In fashion with your typical luck, though, Jisoo is making that nearly impossible.

"Jisoo, turn it down!" You groan, tossing a pillow at her head. She sits on the loveseat at the foot of your bed, completely fixated on the images flashing before her eyes as she plays her video game.

"Shhh, stop distracting me." She says over her shoulder, making you huff.

You value your pride too much to ask nicely, so you suck it up and stick it out for a little while longer. When she lets out a loud shout a few minutes later, though, you've reached the end of your patience.

Wordlessly, you get out of bed and stomp over to the TV, standing directly in front of it.

"Y/N, move! I'll lose!"

You stay there with your arms crossed, and are soon rewarded by the game's voiceover announcing: "Game over."

She huffs and sets her controller down, clearly upset.

"Sucks when people don't listen, huh?" You challenge, still mad that you've been denied a proper nap for so long. Every time you'd be right on the cusp of being drug under, slipping in and out of glorious slumber, she'd do something to ruin it. You're cranky now, and being petty seems like a just punishment for her.

"I can't believe you did that," she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "That was the championship match!"

"Oh well," you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips at that new piece of info. Perhaps justice has been served after all.

With one more warning glance at her to tell her not to do it again, you go back to the bed and get comfy, settling under the warm blankets.

---

30 Minutes Later

"ON YOUR RIGHT, ABOUT TO ROUND THE CORNER!" Jisoo bellows out, smirking when she feels you stir behind her. You scowl, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"Jisoo, I swear to God," you grumble, feeling the irritation rise in you all over again. You get up again and approach her, but she has a plan this time. In one fluid motion, she sticks her foot out in front of you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

"What the--" as you prepare to reprimand her, you see something out of your peripheral. Aided by your new perspective, you spot the remote controller on the coffee table right in front of you, just an arm's length away.

When Jisoo notices that you haven't screamed at her yet, she looks down and realizes her mistake. A dramatic moment passes where you both lock eyes, before immediately diving for the remote. You manage to get to it first, quickly hugging it close to your body and rolling away from her. She pounces a second later, reaching her hands around you to pry it from your grip.

"Give it back, Y/N!"

"No!"

You writhe underneath her until she manages to get the upper hand, straddling your hips in an attempt to pin you down. She sits back on her knees, gazing down at you as your chests heave from the effort you've exerted.

"Give it." She commands, holding her hand out expectantly.

You shake your head, amused that she thought that would be enough to sway you. "No."

"Then you leave me no choice." Her hands dart forward to your abdomen, and she begins tickling you mercilessly in order to make you surrender. Calls for her to cease her assault struggle past your lips, but you know it's futile. She's a determined person just like you, and she won't stop until she gets what she wants.

So, after taking a second to think of a way out of your predicament, a brilliant idea pops into your head.

You finally let her pry your arms open, smirking when she cheers and claims victory. In one fluid motion, just as she had done before, you wrap your leg around one of hers and flip her onto her back before leaning down to kiss her. She tenses up at first, but her hands end up working their way to your hips as her lips begin to move against yours.

Your plan is backfiring a bit; you only intended to shock her and buy yourself time to steal the remote back -- you never thought you'd actually enjoy the feeling of her kiss. You tilt your head to the side to get a better angle and slowly skim your hand down to hers, where the device is tightly clutched. Her other hand has come up to your jaw, which she's gently guiding as she steals another kiss from your lips.

Her distracted state made it easy to get what you were after, and soon -- much too soon for Jisoo's liking -- you pull away with a victorious smile. She doesn't know what to say; in all honesty, she's almost forgotten how to breathe with the way you kissed her senseless.

"I win." You grin, hopping off of her and shutting the TV off before crawling back into the bed. She stays in that same position for a couple minutes, laying on the floor as she tries to sort through what the hell just happened. She can't even be upset right now; she brings her fingertips to her lips, skimming them over the heart-shaped pillows as she smiles.

The Fallout

Things were a little tense when you shared the bed that night

Anytime you'd roll over and readjust your head on the pillow in your sleep, unknowingly positioning your lips dangerous close to hers, her heartbeat would pick up and she'd have to roll over again

You pretended to be asleep when she scooted back against you, pressing herself against your front in search of the heat that your body provided. You brought an arm around her, enclosing her in a soft embrace that had her blushing crimson

Subtle flirting at the competition the next day

Sticking up for each other when one of the other teams got a little rude

"Hey, don't talk about her like that!" Jisoo warns, glaring at the student from your rival school. His uniform is mussed and unkempt, leaving it as no surprise that he was the one to say such a thing.

"Why do you care?" He laughs back, spurred on as his friends snicker along.

The question catches her off guard; just days ago, she was the one bantering with you and testing your limits. Now though, when someone else is taking it too far, she can't help but feel angry. "Because she's my teammate. Now knock it off or I'll report you to your dean for unsportsmanlike behavior."

He scoffs, but eventually opts to grumble out another insult and turn away, nursing his bruised ego.

"Thanks, Chu." You quietly say, having witnessed the whole encounter from the row behind her. A small smile tugs at your lips at her actions, warming your heart.

"No problem, Y/N. But you'd better help me beat him; I'm not losing to that idiot." You laugh and agree, shaking her hand to seal your pact. She tries not to get too caught up on the smoothness of your skin or how it reminds her of last night, but her brain doesn't listen.

Needless to say, you beat them.

Your team stopped by a nice restaurant on the way back home for a celebratory dinner

Jisoo sat beside you

Cue the blushing and quiet flirting

It's a new side of her that you're not used to seeing. Now, instead of being all hardcore and witty, a simple look from you can make her blush

It doesn't always, though; sometimes she grows bold and lays a hand on your thigh for a moment, laughing at something you said

It's giving very much so gay panic™️, but you wouldn't trade it for the world

After the dinner, you go back to the bus and sit in your seats (which aren't together, surprisingly).

As you scroll through your phone, you get a text from Jisoo. Attached to the message is an invitation to one of her favorite mobile games.

"Hey, Y/N. Will you be my player 2? 🎮"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jennie

Jennie Kim: The girl who practically ran the school, always getting her way and never having to lift a finger. She was royalty: the queen bee sat atop her throne, giving orders to the masses that they followed blindly. The whole situation seemed straight out of a poorly-written teenage movie, and it always annoyed you.

You: The girl who stuck to herself, only having a close group of friends that she talked to. You weren't popular, per se, but you weren't cursed to exist at the bottom of the food chain, either. Many people knew you, but you only associated with a select few.

You avoid the "popular" crowd a majority of the time, opting to spend spare time in between classes in the library or outside, doing homework

Jennie is the type of person that has people lined up, waiting for her to ask them to do hers for her. She gets to skip class and do whatever she wants, and she usually takes advantage of that.

She's never been mean to you directly, but you've seen her and her posse pick on people in typical mean girl fashion

You've never noticed the way that she usually targets people who've said bad things about you. She sticks up for you without you even knowing.

So, as you would expect, when your best friend called you and begged you to accompany her to one of the biggest parties of the year (hosted by none other than Jennie's brother), you were definitely surprised. Neither of you are the type to go to anything like that, but you know that she secretly wants to peek into that world of luxury.

"Pleaaaaase, Y/N? I'll do your laundry for a month."

"Fine."

The Turning Point

Your stylish boots crunch lightly against the concrete as you stand outside of the frat house, grimacing when you notice a boy stumble to the side of the house and get sick.

"We might have to bump that offer up to two months," you say to your friend, leaning onto her car as she checks her makeup in the side mirror.

"If it keeps you here for an hour or so, then fine." She smiles, taking your hand and leading you towards the building. Upon opening the door you're immediately greeted by waves of the strong bass of whatever song is playing. Their rhythmic thumps reverberate around the house, and you choose to seek some semblance of peace and quiet by heading to the kitchen. Your friend comes with, and the two of you push your way to the drink bar for refreshments.

"Thanks again for coming along, Y/N/N. You're the best." She leans into you, saying the phrase loud enough for you to hear over the music.

"I know," you hold your head up higher, self-assured. "You'd better go find Benji before things get too wild," you tell her, taking note of how the crowd is quickly growing in size. Benji, her longtime crush, is the only reason you really agreed to tag along; she's been head over heels for him for as long as you've known her, and you see this as the perfect opportunity for her to finally tell him. She needed some backup, and you always come through for your friends.

"Alright, I'll come find you later," she says, nervously smiling as she kisses your cheek as a farewell. You shout encouragement to her retreating figure, grinning wildly when you see her throw her hand up in the air.

Considering you made a drink for her just then before sending her off, you take the time now to make one for yourself. Your hands skim through the air overtop of the different bottles, searching for your favorite flavors and types to mix. As you go to reach across the table for one of them, disaster strikes.

You gasp as cold liquid lands on your shoulder, following gravity's command and rushing down your back and chest. A flurry of apologies follows suit, and you feel a soft hand on the small of your back as you go to turn around.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Jennie says, covering her mouth in shock. For a moment you're worried that she was dared to do this -- that perhaps her friends sent her off to ruin your outfit and embarrass you. When you find sincere regret in her deep brown eyes, though, all of those worries melt away.

"It's alright," you assure her, shaking your arms to get rid of some of the sticky drink that's trailed its way down. You set your half-filled cup on the table, no longer interested in getting anymore now.

"At least let me wash the shirt for you. I have a coat you can wear while its getting clean."

You furrow your brows at the offer, not expecting that from her. Not only has she apologized, which is practically unheard of from the prima donna, but she's willing to do something for another person?

"Uh, okay." You do your best to mask the confusion in your tone, but it's still plain to see.

"Follow me," she politely instructs, leading you down the hall towards what you assume is the laundry room.

She flips the light on and shuts the door behind you, walking into the closet to search for the spare set of close she keeps here.

When she emerges again, fluffy coat in hand, she begins stumbling over the words she was about about to say. Her eyes land on you, taking in the expanse of exposed skin now that you've stripped off the shirt you were wearing. She can't help but admire the sight; she subconsciously bites her lip, only being brought back to reality when you wave your hand in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Jennie?"

"What?" She eventually asks, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts swarming in it. She's always had a sort of thing for you, but she never imagined you could look that good. It should be a crime.

"I asked if you have a bathroom around here, so I can, ya know... wash up a bit. Whatever you had to drink is pretty sticky." You chuckle, moving your arm to show her how far it's spread.

"This room over here," she says, approaching a door on the wall opposite you, "is actually a bathroom. Convenient, right?" She asks, flipping the light on for you.

"Absolutely," you perk up, glad to know that you won't have to strut down the hall in your sports bra to get to a bathroom.

She steps to the side and pushes the door open for you, nearly melting when you give her a little wave and shut it behind yourself. She's got it bad.

She takes your shirt and throws it in the washer before setting the knobs correctly, knowing the best combos by heart. She and her brother are close, so it's not uncommon for her to come by and help him with chores when he gets swamped.

A few minutes later you come out of the bathroom clean and dry, nervously fidgeting with your hands as she turns to look at you again. Having the Jennie Kim looking at you in such a way and having her so close is a bit overwhelming, and you're not exactly sure how to deal with it.

"Here," she says, reaching around you to slide her jacket onto your arms. Her face hovers dangerously close to yours as she does, making you hold your breath in anticipation. She pulls the jacket closed, adjusting it so that it lays right, and you look into her eyes.

"Thanks, Jen."

Her heart speeds up at the nickname, though she tries not to show it.

"No problem, sweet thing." She flirts, taking you aback.

Just as you go to say something more, the door blasts open and a couple of her friends pop in. "There you are Jennie! What are you-- oh," they say, watching as the two of you spring apart.

When they realize who you are, they laugh among themselves. "What're you doing in here with her?" They ask, looking you up and down before ultimately appearing unimpressed. Jennie glances at you again, and you can see her going through some sort of inner turmoil.

"Thank God you guys showed up; she won't quit talking. I was just about to leave." She laughs, regaining the bitchy aura that she's known for. You set your jaw and nod, remembering why you choose to stay away from people like them.

"Wow, Jennie. You really had me fooled," you bite back, a bit shocked, but not surprised. You keep your eyes on hers as you take her jacket off and let it drop to the floor in front of her, grabbing a spare towel from the hamper on your way out the door. Her friends scoff at you, wondering what such a nobody like you thinks they're doing treating Jennie like that. You brush past them and send her one last look, conveying all the emotions you feel with a mere glance.

She's disappointed in herself, and she hangs her head as the girls scoop the designer material up and hand it to her.

----

45 Minutes Later

Just 15 more minutes, Y/N; totally doable. You reason with yourself. Jennie left the laundry room soon after you, leaving it vacant for you to put your shirt in the dryer and retrieve it when it was done. Now, clad in the warm material, you sit outside by the fire. Stars are shining brightly in the night sky, illuminating it so beautifully that your mind is taken off of what happened. They twinkle for you, and the sight puts you at ease.

What has that pleasant feeling dissipating in a second, however, is the sound of Jennie's voice as she exits the patio door.

She's talking to her friends about some boy that's in love with her, as the whole school seems to be, and you roll your eyes. With the moment officially ruined, you decide to head back into the house and spend the rest of your sentence there.

Once you stand up from your seat and turn around to take your leave, her friends notice you. "Jesus, you're really obsessed, aren't you? Are you following her or something?" One of them, a snarky blonde from earlier, asks.

You laugh at that. "Hardly," you glance at Jennie, though she avoids eye contact. "I'm sure you'd like that, though. Give you something to talk about other than your split ends." She reels back at your boldness, prepared to start a fight.

"You bitc--"

"Stop," Jennie finally steps in, cutting the girl off. She moves between the two of you, putting a hand on your chest and looking into your eyes.

"Jennie, I don't know what her problem is," the blonde squeaks out, trying to defend her actions.

"The problem doesn't lie with her," she tells her, leaving her puzzled. Jennie continues, "I lied earlier; I'm the one who invited her to the laundry room because I spilled my drink on her." You narrow your eyes at her following her statement, wondering where she's going with this.

"We probably would've kissed, too, if you hadn't walked in."

Your heart speeds up a little at that, but you're still hurt by what she did earlier. Having her be one way with you in private and another in public is never a good sign.

"I'm done with you guys. You turn me into something I'm not," she looks between the small following that's accrued, letting them know how she's been feeling for the past bit. The majority of them are stuck up and entitled, and seeing the hurt in your eyes put things into perspective for her. She likes you, and she wants to be better because of that.

"I don't understand, Jennie," one of them asks, sounding like she's on the brink of tears. Are these people really that invested? You know the hierarchy of popularity is confusing, but they make it seem like she's breaking up with them.

"We're not friends anymore. Not until you get your heads out of your asses and start being nicer."

The crowd clearly doesn't know how to react at her sudden change in attitude, but they mutter out various responses before some of them break away.

You look down at her and glance to the house, wordlessly telling her to follow you so that you can have a moment alone to talk. You lead her over to the patio and stand against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding relieved to finally get the words out. Her previous actions have been weighing heavily on her, and she's been doing some introspection. It's not entirely all of a sudden, though; she's been questioning why she still hangs out with them for a while now. This encounter just confirmed her desire to leave them.

"I shouldn't have lied like that. I know it hurt you." She looks away, feeling disappointed again.

"Yeah, it definitely wasn't fun to have my crush talk about me like that." You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"Crush?" Her head raises up, doing a terrible job of concealing the hopefulness she feels blossoming.

"Crush." You lightly smile at the way she blushes at your simple confirmation. She's too adorable for her own good; it's really no wonder than she has everyone on their knees for her.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say after a moment, nudging her shoulder gently. "It's more than your posse usually gives, so I appreciate it. You'd better mean it, though." You cock your head at her expectantly, a hint of warning in your tone.

"You have my word," she smiles, determined to make sure the opportunity you're giving her doesn't go to waste.

The Fallout

In the following weeks, she cut ties with more and more toxic people, causing a bit more drama to stir up, but she didn't care. You were by her side through all of it, as were your friends, and she saw what true community looks like. She had so many people at her beck and call back then, but none of them cared as much as your close knit group. They were in it because of her status, not because of her.

Walking her to class

Both of you sticking up for each other if people try to start stuff

Helping her correct her bad habits if she starts to get judgemental with someone or slips back into her old ways

Being patient with her

Her spoiling you randomly to show how thankful she is for you

"Miss L/N, we have a Candy Gram for you. Sent by Jennie Kim." A staff member says upon entering the classroom, walking the package over to you. You grin widely as you open the note attached to it.

"Come see me after class, Y/N/N. I have something for you."

You were excited for the rest of class

You rode your bike back to her dorm, parking it outside before knocking on the door.

"Hey, Jendeukie. What do you have for--"

You're abruptly cut off by her lips pressing against yours as her hands pull you in, turning you to mush. You sink into her arms and kiss back, reveling in the feeling of finally having this moment with her. You've been waiting for it ever since the party.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she softly admits, resting her forehead against yours. "I hope I didn't overstep." You can hear the nervousness in her voice, and you smile at how cute she is.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Come here," you pull her in again, lifting her up into your arms as you walk into her dorm. She squeals at the sudden move, but the sound is quickly muffled as you lean in to kiss her again.

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ckneal · 4 years ago

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So, there’s this one angel story in the back of my head that I know I wont write. I wont write it, because it’s utter nonsense, with very little regard for the canonical timeline of Supernatural, and a willfully blurry view on what is and is not “in character.” It’s fluff. It’s all fluff, in the form of a bunch of smaller stories that gradually weave together, following the Love, Actually style of storytelling, but instead of problematic love stories, it’s all about angels playing hooky from Heaven after the Fall.

(Seriously, there is no substance here, I swear.)

Stories include Abner, living out the first half of the movie Family Man, struggling to figure out how to be a good father and house husband after he steps into the life of the raging alcoholic who agreed to be his vessel. There’s also a very minor story about Esther (not to be confused with Hester, who is not in this story because she never deserted her post in Heaven) learning to play the part of a little girl and navigating schoolyard politics, but kids can be mean and Esther learns the hard way that Michael’s approach to asserting dominance in Heaven does not translate well. There’s also Daniel and Adina, who both settle into vessels in the same movie theater where a romantic comedy is playing, and fall into a very innocent, play-acting sort of love after they leave the theatre—like little kids pretending to be in love, recreating the scenes from the movie, but at the same time not really understanding it. Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael each trying to roll with the luxurious high roller life style, and awkwardly running into each other at VIP poker games, exclusive spas and clubs, and the occasional orgy that they promptly leave IMMEDATELY after running into a sibling (don’t give me weird looks, Balthazar and Gabriel canonically include that sort of thing in their definition of luxury, and the whole thing of their story is their siblings keep cramping their style). Tyrus is in there bowling, somewhere. Benjamin’s playing arcade games with his wife. And then there’s Thaddeus, my pet favorite minor angel character, realizing what’s happening as he’s falling with all the other faithful angels during the Fall and seizing the opportunity to abandon his life as a guard and torturer, settling into a pop star for his vessel—initially for the sake of the cushy lifestyle, but then gradually looking back, before the garden and Lucifer, before everyone was assigned a job in Heaven, like it or not, and the options were to adapt or to be smote, and remembering that back then, he could sing.

And of course, Michael and Adam get a story too—in which Michael lowkey gets into a pissing contest with death, as he and Adam travel the world, hitting up hospital after hospital to heal people. Because the first thing Adam wanted to do after getting out of the cage (okay, second thing—burgers came first) was go to the nearest medical center and start healing people left and right. And at first, they’re having a great time. Adam steals a white jacket he finds in the breakroom somewhere, and anytime someone says he looks a little young to be a doctor (Adam still looking nineteen years old, because I say so), Michael wipes the poor sap’s mind. But eventually—sometime after they’ve cleared out the children’s ward, the cancer ward, the cardiac ward—Billie shows up, sniping at them that they can’t just go around healing people who are destined to die, because there is an order to life and death that cannot be shoved aside. And Billie tries to make a show of it, as Terra did with Dean, by having several people who Adam had healed over the course of the day inadvertently cause several massive accidents. The news suddenly comes pouring out of the television, channels flipping as newscasters talk about tragedies occurring in several different parts of the city they’re currently in. The sound of approaching ambulance sirens fills the air, as in the hospital hallway, doctors and nurses begin hurrying to receive a rush of ER patients.

Adam’s horrified.

Michael does not take kindly to this. He snaps his fingers and makes it so that the carnage has never happened. Because he is the archangel Michael, only two steps away from being a god, and if he says that all of these people are going to live, then they are going to live, and he WILL NOT be intimidated, especially by an amateur reaper whose only qualification for her position was dying at the right time.

Billie in turn lands Michael with a cold stare, and points out that the order to life and death is beyond even God’s authority, let alone daddy’s blunt, sniveling instrument.

As Michael’s eyes start to glow, Adam steps in and says, “So, to be clear, you want us to stop healing people on the verge of death? We can do that.”

After Billie leaves, Michael is outraged, but Adam says, “No, Michael, THINK about it.”

We then cut to other stories, where newscasts in the background reveal that ailments that are not IMMIEDATELY fatal (AIDs, diabetes, Alzheimer’s, etc.) are mysteriously disappearing overnight, worldwide.

Billie is not amused, and tells her reapers to be on the lookout for an archangel at every major hospital in the world.

Cut to Michael throwing open the door of the bunker, muttering aloud to Adam that he’s going to do it, he’s going to bind Death, just like Lucifer did—how hard can it be? Sam and Dean see him as he goes stomping off toward the cabinet where they keep all of their magical dry goods, but Michael snaps his fingers and the two of them are abruptly half drunk in Dean’s man cave, sitting in front of Dean’s flat screen TV, watching some campy monster movie, because that’s lowkey what Michael and Adam assume they do all day.

As they’re raiding Sam and Dean’s supplies though, Adam says, “Wait, I have an idea.”

Cut to Abner looking up while pushing his vessel’s daughter in a park swing, and literally seeing Michael and Adam chasing an ambulance, so they can technically heal the person inside before reaching the hospital.

Yes, I’m aware that Abner was dead by the time Michael and Adam got out of the cage. But see, this story? This story is like when someone gifts you a goldfish unexpectedly, and you put it in a bowl, checking in to feed it a couple times a day, lowkey expecting it to die. But it doesn’t die, it gets bigger. And you’re not a cruel person, so you put it in a bigger tank, but it just gets bigger again, and you don’t really know what’s going on, but you know, you just kind of keep checking in, meeting the minimum requirements but not really getting in there as a guiding force because it’s a goldfish and it’s surely going to die any minute now—but then you look over and there’s giant tank taking up your living room, and you’re thawing out bloodworms twice a day, and looking into tankmates to keep Charles company, and realize that “Oh wow, I guess this is a thing now.”

In short, the story says we’re ignoring the timeline, and it’s calling the shots. I’m just keeping the tank clean.

The angels all eventually wind up running into each other. Abner and Esther happen upon one another in a park, where Esther is morosely realizing that she is terrible at being a human child but she does not want to go home to Heaven, and it just happens to be the same park where Abner goes with his “little nibblet” once a day to let her toddle around the playground while he chats with nannies and other house parents. Anael, Adina, and Daniel meet up when the latter two’s game has reached the point where they’ve decided to get married, and they apparently need to buy something new—preferably blue—as per this very important rhyme someone told them about. Esther and Gabriel run into each other in an ice cream parlor. Thaddeus gets recognized while doing an interview on TV that everyone sees. And, while out joyriding in a Lamborghini, on their way to meet up with the growing community of angels who decided to opt out of their responsibility to Heaven and their father’s legacy, Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael are all startled to see Michael land on an ambulance stopped next to them at a red light.

Balthazar and Anael are both terrified, as if they’ve just been busted by a parent, because Michael, of course, is the guy who enforces the rules, and isn’t he supposed to be in Hell? They both shoot Gabriel looks as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing’ when Gabriel, watching as Michael climbs down and matter-of-factly wrenches the ambulance doors open, calls out, “Hey, Mike! Is that you?”

Michael looks over, freezes for a second—not prepared to be suddenly thrust into a social situation in the middle of his self-imposed mission to spite death—then his eyes flash and Adam takes over. “Oh hey, you’re Michael’s family? What a small world! I’m Adam, I’ve heard so much about you. Wait, hang on—”

The light starts to turn green, but Adam snaps his fingers and it promptly reverts to red.

Three jaws drop in the luxury car, and they don’t even hear Adam politely explain that he and Michael are in the middle of something, as he ducks into the ambulance, because Michael’s evidently letting a tiny human use his powers like it’s nothing, and what does that mean?

“Sweet dad in the unknown, Michael’s shagging a human. . .”

“Nooo!”

“HOW?”

“Hey, kid, you like weddings?”

At some point in the story, all the MIA angels are together, and Benjamin or someone comes running in saying, “Quick, they’re coming! Everyone hide!”

And everyone scatters, except for Michael, who stands in place, saying, “Gabriel, we’re archangels, two of the most powerful beings in existence. Why would we—”

And then Gabriel picks Adam up like a sack of potatoes and sprints off, calling back, “Trust me, you do NOT want to get involved with them!”

Being a projection, Michael is obligated to follow.

Team Free Will then walks by, looking constipated from whatever Big Awful Thing is currently threatening to destroy the world.

The story, of course, culminates in the wedding of Adina and Daniel, who still don’t quite understand what marriage is beyond promising to love each forever, which of course they will, after all, they are the very best of friends—which is about the same concept that most of the other angels present have. Adam is the first one to actually approach the big awkward question, upon finding out who the bride and groom are.

“Wait, aren’t they brother and sister?”

To which Serafina’s Adam, (who is of course there since Serafina was the original angel to play hooky) whose sons married his daughters, and all the angels, who do not understand what that has to do with anything, all cock their heads in unison and respond with, “So?”

Adam struggles to find words, looking into so many innocent faces. Then Benjamin’s wife puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Shhh, let them have their fun.”

Benjamin’s wife and the two Adams wind up sitting at the venue’s bar, where they order nachos from a very confused bar tender, and watch as the angels go about setting up a wedding. But given that most angels haven’t been on earth regularly in roughly two thousand years, none of them have a clear grasp of what a human wedding entails.

“I heard it’s traditional for the father to give away the bride.”

“I think they’re supposed to kiss over bread.”

“Do humans still slaughter cows at these things?”

“I’m pretty sure someone is supposed to break a glass—”

Several angels promptly throw glassware on the floor.

At no point do the angels ask the humans for advice.

Occasionally, Gabriel knowingly throws out obscure details to keep the confusion going.

“You know, the groom needs to stand with the right arm to the aisle in case a sword fight breaks out.”

“Right! . . .How do we know which one’s the groom?”

At the bar, Adam open’s his mouth to say something, but the original Adam shushes him.

“No no, son, let them get there.”

The angels agree that being the better fighter, Adina should be the groom.

They’re nearly ready to start when Michael suddenly doubles over with his hand over his mouth. It coincides with the sound of Adam pounding the bar top, having just eaten a Carolina Reaper pepper on dare. Michael’s eyes quickly flash silver-blue as he straightens, and both he and Adam are abruptly fine—even if their eyes are still watering somewhat. But a different sort of damage has already been done, as Anael, Balthazar, and Gabriel all abruptly turn toward the triad of humans, having been reminded that the Michael walking around with them is actually a projection. In actuality, Michael is anchored to the human ex-college student sitting at the bar.

All three of them rush toward Adam, but Serafina gets there first, asking Adam if he’s ever tried mushroom tea.

Balthazar gets there next.

“Adam, was it? We didn’t get to talk in the car, let’s fix that. Are you over twenty-one? You know what, this is a family affair, don’t worry—CAN I GET TWO SHOTS OF DON JULIO OVER HERE?”

From that point on, any time Adam turns around, there’s one of Michael’s siblings, wanting to get to know him—by consuming some sort of beverage. Because Adam and Michael are sharing body—and that means they share a liver too. A bet ensues as to how much it will take to get God’s alleged favorite wasted.

Gabriel’s actually one of the first out, having been convinced that Michael would be a lightweight. Little does he suspect that Benjamin and his wife caught onto what was happening soon after Adam was fed his third long island iced tea and second jager bomb, and began quietly cleansing the alcohol from his system through casual shoulder pats and high fives.

Adam does not know what to make of any of this, but it’s Michael’s family and he wants to make a good impression, so he just goes with it.

Thaddeus, of course, is in charge of music, Gabriel and Esther consume the majority of the cake, and Michael catches the bouquet (he may have cheated after finding out what the bouquet toss is for).

#my thoughts #lowkey might be putting this idea out so it'll leave me alone #midam #supernatural angels #the divine shurley family

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rolandtowen · 4 years ago

Text

three times Zuko comes into the Jasmine Dragon coffee shop, and one time Sokka leaves with him. Set in the Neurodiverse Zukka AU, but can read as a standalone.

*banging pots and pans together* "Come over here and get yall Neurodiverse Zukka!"

Read it on Ao3 or under the cut!

TW: discussions of skin picking and implied child abuse

When Sokka pulls into the parking lot of the Jasmine Dragon, he is unsurprisingly the first car there. Being a freshman in town means getting the worst pick of shifts at local businesses. Sokka was hired on to work the opening shift, which means he wakes up at the ungodly hour of 5am to open the shop before the first round of sleep-deprived college students comes in. The pay isn't bad, Mr. Iroh is an incredibly fair man,

The bell on the door jingles on his way in, and he flips several light switches on, watching as the coffee shop slowly comes to life. He busies himself with getting the beans for the day grinding, pulling his first shot and dialing in the expresso. When he takes a sip, the espresso is spot on for the day, which is a relief. Having to make adjustments as customers start filing in is a nightmare.

Today's brew is floral and citrusy, so he decides to make himself and iced lavender latte - with oat milk, of course, because he's gotta do it for the gays - and he spends the next 20 minutes setting out pastries and fiddling with the display cases, making everything look perfect.

At 6am sharp, Sokka unlocks the front door and flips their sign to open, before retreating behind the bar to nurse his latte. Not even five minutes later, the door bell jingles, and Sokka sees a flash of dark hair, face obscured by a pile of textbooks and binders. The figure runs into one table, and then another, and Sokka is rushing out from behind the counter. He gets there just before textbooks go toppling everywhere, his hands taking a firm hold of the top bundle. As he pulls the books into his arms, he sees the face behind them.

Breathtaking golden eyes.

And.. a massive burn scar.

"Hi!" Sokka says, "I'm the barista on shift today - my name's Sokka." He would reach his hand for the other man to shake, but for the stack of textbooks in them.

Golden Eyes smiles.

"I'm Zuko, Zuko Sozin," he says, setting his remaining textbooks on the table by his side. Sokka follows suit.

"Hey, I think I've seen you before - are you taking Piandao's Intro to Biology class?"

"Uh, yeah - yeah! You sit a few rows in front of me." Zuko laughs. "Your doodles are uh, something alright."

Sokka knocks him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "I gotta keep my hands busy for my brain to focus." He looks down at the stack of books on the table. "What on earth are you studying, to have that many books?"

"Uh, Biology and Chemistry double-major, Pre-Med track." Sokka's eyes widen. "It's really not that much! I got a bunch of stuff out of the way with AP credits."

Sokka raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, it is a lot - but I'm really passionate about it. I want to be a doctor."

"Well, Dr. Sozin, what can I get started for you today?"

"Can I get a iced matcha, with a lot of honey?"

Sokka raises his other eyebrow. "A doctor with a sweet tooth?"

"Kind of?"

"Don't worry, I won't rat you out to your dentist. An iced matcha with extra honey?" Zuko nods and Sokka smiles. "You got it, doc."

ii.

Sokka falls into a routine at the Jasmine Dragon. He opens the shop every morning, and every morning of the fall semester so far, Zuko Sozin comes in at precisely 6:05am. Zuko will order an iced matcha with honey, and sits at a table by the window with his laptop and at least two textbooks open at all times. Then, at 11:50am - Sokka guess he has a class that starts at noon - Zuko leaves the shop, always making sure to throw his spare change into Sokka's tip jar.

He's so beautiful.

On a slow day, Sokka comes out from behind the safety of the counter and works up the courage to ask Zuko if he can study with him. Zuko looks shocked at first, but his lips quirk up in a smile as he gestures for Sokka to sit in the chair across from him, moving his textbooks to make room for Sokka's one book and laptop.

"What are you studying, Sokka?" Zuko appears to be genuinely interested.

"Oh, uh, social work, with a concentration in mental health." Sokka waits for Zuko to laugh at him. It never comes. He looks up at him over their laptops.

"That's really cool."

"You think so?"

"Yeah! I mean, some pre-med majors can be really pretentious, really dismissive of mental illness, but um - not me. I don't really have that luxury." Zuko laughs, as though at a joke with himself. "What's the Intro to Biology for, then?"

"Not all of us got our common core out of the way with AP credits, like some nerd I know." Zuko smiles at that, and looks back down at his laptop screen.

Sokka pulls his keys from his pocket and starts fidgeting with the stim toy he keeps on his keychain as he reads through his latest assignment for his Mental Illness and Society class. He bought it on Etsy, relieved to find a neurodivergent-owned shop after scrolling through a lot of stores that just seemed to be hopping on the 'trend' of selling fidget toys. He flips to the next page in his textbook, popping the buttons back and forth in a steady rhythm. He remembers Zuko's sitting across from him and stops abruptly.

"Is this annoying? Do you want me to stop?"

Zuko just cocks his head. "Why would I get a say in what you do? It's kind of your shop, right?"

"Um, to be polite?" Sokka laughs. "And you would be surprised how many customers I get who think they get to tell me what to do." His eyes settle on the half drunk latte in front of him. "It's not really my shop either, I just work the early morning shifts so Mr. Iroh can sleep in. If you ever get to stay past noon sometime, you'll see him come in. You can't miss him, short guy, talks in riddles. He's older, a war vet I think - I just get that impression from some of the stories he tells me. But anyway, did you want me to stop fidgeting?" Sokka looks back up to meet those golden eyes.

Zuko glitches for a second. "Oh! No, no, go for it - if it helps you to study, I'm all for it."

Sokka smiles, and looking at the way Zuko keeps picking at his cuticles gives him an idea. He digs into his backpack and pulls out another stim toy, an acupressure ring. ""Do you want to try this instead of maiming your hands?"

Zuko hesitantly holds out a hand and Sokka drops it into his palm. "You don't have to."

Sokka scoffs. "I know I don't have to - I want to. Come on, I wear it on my thumb sometimes -" and suddenly he's taking Zuko's hands into his and getting very close to Zuko's face. Zuko can smell espresso on his clothes and Sokka's hands are so warm against his. Calloused, sure, but warm. He holds Zuko's right hand gently, pressing the spiky ring onto his thumb. "And you can rub it back and forth with your pointer finger and it gives you that kind of prickly sensation that you get from skin picking, just without the skin picking." Sokka pulls his hands away and Zuko immediately misses them. "Give it a shot, tell me what you think."

Zuko tentatively rolls the ring over his thumb. Huh. The cute barista's right, the acupressure gives him that same prickly, scratchy feeling that picking at his nails and cuticles does. "Wow," he says, "I think you've converted me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then keep it, I've got a thousand more where that came from, ADHD perks."

Zuko instinctively opens his mouth to protest but the words die in his throat.

"You, you have ADHD?" He stops rolling the ring across his thumb.

"Yup." Sokka's lips popped on the 'p', and he turned to the next page in his textbook. "And I'm pretty sure you've got some spicy stuff happening your brain, too. But you don't have to tell me."

"How are you so open about it?"

Sokka's hand stills around the fidget. "My parents never treated me like I was deficient in any way - my brain just works differently, which means I have trouble with some 'normal' stuff. But I also strengths in areas that others don't have naturally. Accommodations aren't anything to be ashamed of."

"Sounds nice." All of the levity drops out of Zuko's voice.

Sokka levels a look at Zuko. He lets his eyes flit to the right side of Zuko's face and the scar there. He's seen it so many times, and the burns look so concentrated, almost... intentional. His stomach churns at the thought. The scar's old... and Zuko's at college now, he has to be safe - he has to be.

"Like I said, you don't have to tell me." Sokka's hand starts to fidget with the buttons again. "But I have it on good authority that I am a good listener."

"I'll... I'll keep that in mind." Zuko looks down at his hands, fingers rolling the ring back and forth against his thumb. "Thank you."

"Anytime, doc."

iii.

Somehow, fumbling through their collective social awkwardness, they manage to swap numbers.

At the end of the fall semester, Sokka texts Zuko for the first time.

S: hey, im gonna be a few minutes later. don't worry, im still coming.

Z: okay. thank you.

When Sokka finally pulls into the parking lot fifteen minutes late, he sees Zuko waiting outside the door, sitting on a bench, head buried in one of his chemistry textbooks.

"Hey," he puts his keys in the door. "You can just come in while I open, it won't take too long."

Zuko follows him inside, and he closes the door against the chill.

"You didn't have to text me," Zuko says, like it's a question.

"I wanted to," Sokka starts flipping on light switches. "I know you've got your routine, and I didn't want to stress you out when it got messed up."

"Why would that matter to you?"

"Um, I don't want you to be stressed? I kind of care about you."

"You... you care about me?" Zuko stands in the middle of the coffee shop, unmoving.

Sokka smiles. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Why?"

"I think we could be friends?"

"Oh." Zuko's face falls for a second - what Sokka has come to understand is his 'processing' face - and he looks back up a second later. "I think we could be friends too."

"Friendship with a barista has great perks, you know." Sokka laughs as he starts up the grinder. "Although the perks of a social worker friend aren't too bad either."

"How's that going? With your first semester ending?" Zuko sits on a stool at the bar and watches Sokka putter around behind it.

"Well, I'm going to pass Intro to Biology, not for lack of trying on Piandao's part - I swear he's trying to weed out all the humanities kids. It isn't even a weed out course!" He polishes an espresso glass furiously. "How are you doing?"

Zuko chokes. "Oh, I'm - I'm fine, you know it's a hard class and all -"

"You're getting an A, aren't you?" Sokka squints at him from behind a bag of coffee beans. "Curve breaker," he scoffs.

"Hey, it's not my fault that I'm, what did you call it? A 'burnt-out gifted kid with people pleasing tendencies'." Zuko crosses his arms and huffs at the memory of that conversation. Sokka had read him like a picture book. And it was not fair for one person to be that good at emotions.

"You are correct, I did indeed call you that." Sokka pulls the first shot of the morning. "And it looks like I was right."

"You know what you said the other week, about being a good listener?"

"Sure do," Sokka takes a sip of the espresso, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it out. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, if we're going to be... friends, I just think you'd want to know that - I'm autistic." Zuko stares at Sokka searching his face for any cues about what the next words out of his mouth will be, waiting for the facade of friendship to drop. He furiously rolls the acupressure ring up and down his thumb.

"Okay, that's great!"

"...what."

Zuko's hands freeze and he squeezes the ring against his skin, feeling the pressure increase.

"That's great, I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me that. I kind of guessed your parents weren't as accommodating as mine?"

Zuko laughs something sour. "No, no they were not." He looks up in surprise as Sokka puts an iced matcha, extra honey, in front of him. "You're right though, I do feel safe here. I feel safe with you." Zuko looks down at the acupressure ring on his thumb, softening his grip. "You could have totally ignored me, but you didn't. Or you could've been mean about my quirks - but you weren't. Why?"

"Well, for starters, you tip well." Sokka smiles and leans across the counter, bracketing Zuko's elbows in with his own. "But you're also a really great guy - you're passionate, you want to make people's lives better, and you're also like, really beautiful."

Zuko feels his cheeks flush. "You really think that?" His fingers still against the fidget again, but he doesn't feel the need to press it into his skin. He's captivated by Sokka's words. Surely, Sokka couldn't actually mean -

"Oh, yeah. Every bit." Sokka brushes his hand against one of Zuko's, the one with the fidget ring. "Can I hold your hand?"

"Yes, please, yes." After weeks, Sokka's hand is back in his, and Zuko thinks he's going to implode. "Can, can you hold both of my hands? With both of your hands?"

"Of course," Sokka's positively beaming, grabbing Zuko's hands and running his thumbs across his knuckles. "Now you're absolutely allowed to say no to my next question, and there are no hard feelings."

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Fuck yes."

The iced matcha is forgotten.

+ i

Sokka's feet hurt like hell. Mr. Iroh had called in him to work a double on Friday, and since he doesn't have any classes on Fridays, he foolishly agreed.

It won't seem so foolish once you see the paycheck, he reminds himself. He and Zuko have a deal. Zuko pays for his medical school with his job shelving books at the University library, and Sokka pays for their tiny apartment by caffeinating all of the other broke college kids in town. By some miracle, they seem to be able to make it work. Zuko graduated into the medical college a year early, which helps with tuition costs, and of course his brilliant boyfriend got all kinds of scholarships.

Sokka is indescribably proud of him.

The door bell jangles just as Sokka is wiping the crumbs off the last cafe table. "Hey, we're starting to close up for the night, so it'd better be a to-go order," he calls over his shoulder.

"Even for me?"

"Zuko!" Sokka drops his cloth immediately and spins around, pulling Zuko into a hug. Zuko taps the small of his back when he's ready to let go, and Sokka lets him go, beaming. "You came to visit me at work?"

"More like I picked up your favorite soup dumplings from Haru's across the street and thought we could walk home together?" Zuko shrugs, gesturing to the brown paper bag in his arms. "How's that sound to you?"

"Baby, that's just what I needed today." Sokka picks up his cleaning supplies. "Okay, I just need to put all of this away and then we can lock up and go home, how's that?"

"Great," Zuko smiles at him. "I may have also picked up some more Doctor Who DVDs from the library," he smirks.

"Oh, you trickster!" Sokka yells from the kitchen, before appearing again. "You used my one weakness, pork soup dumplings, against me in order to get your nerdy way."

"Oh, big talk coming from the guy who watches astronomy documentaries for fun," Zuko laughs as Sokka leads him out of the shop, switching off the lights and locking the door behind him. "If it were up to you, we'd be watching Cosmos all weekend, and I can only take so much of Neil deGrasse Tyson explaining the peculiarities of the moon."

"Hey, the moon is cool!"

"You are correct, the moon is very cool. It's freezing, because it's a rock. In space. With no atmosphere. Or life." Zuko deadpans, earning a light punch on the shoulder from Sokka.

"Fine, you get Doctor Who tonight, but Saturday is going to be all PBS Nova, baby. Brace yourself." Sokka takes Zuko's free hand into his as they start the walk home.

"Well, as long as you're there, I'm happy."

Notes:

fidgets in this work were inspired by those from shop StimBox

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tarteausuga · 4 years ago

Text

maybe soon

Contents: fluff, basketball player! Johnny Featuring: Johnny x reader, other members of NCT sporadically A/N: there could potentially be another part... word count: 2.4k-ish

In which you’re the head athletic trainer of the basketball team that Johnny is the captain of...

"Mark, I know you can wrap it yourself. I've taught you multiple times." You breeze by one of the youngest players of the team who was begging you to wrap his ankle for him.

"You do it so much better though! I don't play as well if I do it myself." He whined as you rolled your eyes at him.

"You'll have to wait your turn then." You direct your attention to Johnny, the captain who has been nursing a sprained knee for the past few weeks. "Have you been icing it on and off like I've told you to?" You ask him but your attention is directed at his leg.

"Yes and I've been keeping it elevated. How can I not when you're in half of my classes nagging me during lectures?" He smirks at you but you don't pay him any attention.

"It looks a lot better now. I'll find you a knee brace and you shouldn't need to wrap it anymore." You smile, content with your treatment as you pin the bandage in place.

"You're a lot less scary when you smile, you know?" He jokes with you as you give him a slight push. Telling him to shut it before finally attending to the needy Mark Lee who is being touted as the next star of your university's basketball team.

You felt a lot of pride in your work with the team. Sure it was all for course credit towards your athletic training degree but something about it made you feel like you were part of the team. They relied on you and you often felt like you were supporting them through your work. You were never great at sports so this was your one way of being part of something that you love so much.

Your dedication had paid off as you had been named the head student trainer after years of running water bottles and hauling medical kits. Working under the advice of your professor, you were trusted to call the shots and unlike some of your classmates, your advising professor rarely questioned you.

"Alright boys, gather around." Johnny called out in his booming voice just as you were finishing up wrapping Mark's ankle. You then proceeded to help your junior trainers with packing up the kits and filling water bottles.

"Johnny is always watching you." One of the younger girls said to you and giggled.

"He's so hot, I wish he would look at me." Another girl pouted and you fought off the urge to roll your eyes in front of them.

You found that a lot of the students who signed up to be part of your team were mainly a) female and b) trying to get close with at least one of the players. It was frustrating on your end because it often meant more work for you as they were often too flustered or distracted to focus on their actual jobs.

"You know that I help to grade you guys, right?" You glare at them as you found yourself doing your kit inventories alone while they were busy giggling about the players.

"You're no fun. You can't possibly say you're not attracted to any of them." A third girl scoffed at you.

"I can honestly say that when you deal with their sweaty feet enough, they lose their allure." You lie as they all become visibly disgusted and finally start doing their jobs assigned by you. You stifle a smile as you look up and meet Johnny's eyes from across the room. The last thing you were going to do was admit to your juniors that you were interested in someone. And the second last thing you were going to do was tell them that the person in mind was none other than campus celebrity, Johnny Suh.

You approved the medical kits as Johnny dismissed the team and they proceeded towards the gym for warmups. You also sent your trainers to follow, reminding them to do their inspections of the gym and not ogling the team.

"Go easy on them." Johnny nudges you.

"That wouldn't be any fun then." You nudge him back.

"See? Much cuter with a smile on your face." He chuckles while running away before you can smack his arm.

There was always so much going on during game nights. The basketball team was the most popular on campus, beating out the soccer team somehow. There were hoards of fangirls in the stands screaming out the names of individual players. Then there was the band and of course, the cheerleaders but to no one's surprise, the players were the centre of attention.

Johnny seemed to thrive in this environment. He would flash a smile every once in a while to the girls in the stands, drawing screams sounding like they were in pain. You could even see some of the cheerleaders try not to lose their composure from the sidelines when they saw him push his hair out of his eyes.

"That kid is lucky he's great at basketball," the coach mumbled before shouting "FOCUS ON THE PLAY SUH!"

You couldn't help but fight back a chuckle as Johnny posted up a 3-pointer before saluting his coach.

---

The game was over and while everyone was returning to their respective homes to rest after the exciting win, you were back in the training room making sure the team started their recoveries well: Attending to bruises, strains and pre-existing injuries as quickly as possible. Johnny often sat back and watched you work. Laughing to himself whenever you made a quick comment towards any of the guys.

"Are you going to ask y/n out anytime soon?" Jaehyun, another popular player on campus, slid next to his captain.

"Nah I'm just going to get rejected. I've tried every year and it's always a no." Johnny smiles fondly at all of the times you've turned him down.

"You seem oddly happy about that." Jaehyun frowns.

"We spend more time together like this. We would have to be separated if we started dating. Conflict of interest or whatever but I still ask every year just to make sure we feel the same way." Johnny explains.

"And you're okay with the rejection…" Jaehyun tries to confirm but Johnny only nods, continuing to watch you work with the team. "There are other girls out there. You know that right?" Jaehyun suggested.

Johnny tried not to seem physically disgusted at the prospect. "I'm aware, Jaehyun. Thanks." He said in his low tone that often scared the other players.

"Alright, I'm just saying." Jaehyun slid away.

When the room quiets down and all of the team has trickled out, you're left with melted bags of ice and cut up pieces of athletic tape surrounding you. But you're not alone as Johnny seats himself across from you on the training table.

"Is it my turn now?" He smiles.

"You need to pay attention better," you sigh with a faint smile, undoing the bandages wrapped around his knee, "one slip and you're doing to hurt your knee again."

Johnny always had knee problems. He tore his ACL during your second year of university and it never fully recovered after surgery. That was probably the toughest year of Johnny's career, facing the fact that he likely wouldn't make his dreams of playing in the NBA come to reality. You tenderly apply ice to his knee as he winces at the cold.

"You worry too much." He says.

"You make me worry." You respond quickly.

"At least you feel something for me." He lowers himself to look up into your concentrated gaze.

"Let's not do this now." You look away and go make an ice bag for him.

"Oh come on, we always do this. I ask you out, you reject me, we bicker back and forth then we both quietly know the feelings are still there." He leans over you at the ice machine.

The best you can do is sigh and roll your eyes, "you're insufferable, Johnny Suh."

"And that's why you love me." He looks for an agreeing smile from you expectantly. You force one to appease him.

---

It was the morning before one of the last midterms of your university career. Nervous energy was all around as that classic air of tension flooded the campus as students wracked their brains with exam material. Your morning cup of relief, a coffee in your hand and Taeyong, one of your best friends and another member of the basketball team, talking your ear off.

"I spent all night making this tiny little cheat card my prof is letting us bring in but Yuta fucking spills water on it this morning, I was ready to kill the guy but-" he stopped talking when he noticed you stop dead in your tracks. He looked back to see you with a mortified look on your face. "Hey, what's up?" He gently touches your shoulder before turning towards your line of sight to see what had stopped you.

What he saw shocked him too. One of the cheerleaders who always made it known that she found Johnny attractive was seated on his lap in the food hall. He seemed disinterested but nonetheless, there she was. You immediately turn to walk the other way even though you were on your way towards your exam.

"Are you okay?" Taeyong struggled to catch up as you quickened your pace to make it in time while taking the long way around.

"It's fine, Taeyong. It's not like we're dating." You huff.

"I know but you guys like each other, don't you?" He asked.

"No," you lied, "I could never like someone like him so he can do whatever he wants."

"Hey." He finally stopped you.

"I don't have the time for this, I have to write my midterm." You slip away as you threw your untouched coffee in the trash. The thought of drinking coffee disgusted you all of a sudden. Your brain associated the beverage with Johnny as he was the one that introduced it to you during your first year of university.

You walked out of your exam and saw Taeyong waiting patiently outside. He had his fair share of fans around campus but he never entertained them as much as some of the other members of the team. He was often depicted as cold and scary so not many people approached him, unaware that he's one of the most kind-hearted people in your life.

"Hey, how did it go?" He asked you meekly.

"Pretty sure I bombed it," you sigh, "what about yours?"

"The twisted thing is that those cheat sheets force you to study so I guess I don't need to kill my roommate." You both laugh.

"Hey what are you guys laughing at?" You hear the voice you were dreading from behind you.

"I'll see you later, Taeyong." You say before quickly finding a new path for your afternoon.

"Is she okay?" Johnny asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"That's not for me to answer." Taeyong shrugs.

You try your best to act normal for practice that evening. You go through your usual motions of getting everyone taped up and ready but everyone seemed to notice your usual lack of spirit and friendly banter with the team. Even your junior trainers talk quietly about whether you broke up with Johnny despite you telling them repetitively that there wasn't anything going on between the two of you. You avoid his eye contact as their coach runs through their plays and generally avoid looking at him in general during the whole practice.

When the training room cleared out, you were left with Johnny again and you tried to rush through wrapping his ice bag onto his knee when he grabs your hand. He bends his neck down again to look into your eyes which were starting to fill up with tears.

"Hey what's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm just stressed about midterms." You turn away from him to wipe your tears.

"I'm sure you did fine," he uses his strength to force you to face him. "You're the smartest person I know."

"A lot of good that does me." You scoff.

"Did I do something?" He asked.

"It's nothing, Johnny. I'm fine." You insist but he's not convinced.

"Are you mad at me or something?" He finally struck a chord with you.

You can only look at him for a moment as you try to tell him why you're upset with him. How do you word this without making things even more complicated than they already are?

"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just dumb and thought I was special but I'm just like every other girl out there for you. It's my fault." You try to force a smile but he only looks at you in confusion.

"Other girls? What other girls? Oh did you see me with…" he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he lets out a breath of frustration. "That bitch…" he mumbles to himself.

"What?" You say.

"You saw that, didn't you?" He read the expression on your face before continuing, "we were just talking about midterms when she suddenly sits on me. I asked what she was doing and she said she saw her ex and needed a cover because she's trying to get across the point that she's not into him anymore."

You continue to look at him, trying to figure out whether he's telling the truth when he continues his explanation.

"Did you see me touching her at all?" You shook your head in response. "I didn't want to push her off, I might have hurt her so I just let her be. Now I'm thinking she only did that because she saw you." He took your cold hands in his. "I only like you, alright? I've always liked you otherwise I wouldn't bug you so much about everything."

"But I keep rejecting and you can have literally any girl you want." You say quietly.

"And where am I? Hanging out with you whenever I can. Waiting for basketball to be over so we can maybe be an actual couple." He laughs.

"Really?" You ask with tear soaked eyes.

"Yeah." He says.

"That's… kind of dumb." You say with a soft laugh,

"Thanks, I love you too." He smiles, running his thumb over the lines of your hand.

#nct imagines #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct scenario #johnny suh imagine #johnny suh imagines #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh scenario #johnny suh scenarios #kpop fluff

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theinvisibledreamergirl · 4 years ago

Text

Hopeless

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Klaw Craig)

Words count: >1.7k

Category: Angst

Warning: none

A.N: Well as per your request this is the awaited fic for you and maybe you didn’t expect it to be such this angsty. Let me know what do you think. This event starts after this post for everyone who’s not familiar with it.

———————————————————————

Klaw had never ran so fast in her life like now.

She had to do something.

Something to stop Simon from telling Dr. Ramsey about the Instagram photo she posted. And the reason?

Simple. After Dr. Ramsey admitted to her the infamous patient Mr. Nigel Platt- nothing went normal as she thought at first. Nigel had several symptoms that none of them concluded to a specific illness but leading to more questions than answers. Again this wasn’t the real problem.

Nigel’s attitude against her while questioning her abilities to handle this case, made her blood boiled despite she held a great poker face to him that everything seemed to go flowing. It was ironic this kind of situation happened again to her- when she confronted the mafia man Miles in her first day, the latter doing the same thing as Nigel. With all of her anger and frustration she blamed Dr. Ramsey for this and decided in a drunken state to create an emoji and to show off to people on Insta what an asshole he was. But when she got sobered like today, she was pleading that everyone would get it as joke and not something that should be taken seriously. Because it was a moment of anger okay? She didn’t know how to revenge to him because he was her attending after all. She couldn’t file a complaint to him. Right? After finishing this case she wanted to have a man to man talk and to understand why he assigned this kind of patient especially to her. Did she do anything wrong?

If yes, what?

Because of Dr. Banerji’s secret?

Her mind was fogged up with lots of questions while she was running in the halls of fifth floor- where his office was. When she turned the corner she bumped into nurse Sarah and apologised.

“Sarah do you know where’s Dr. Tennant?”

“Oh. I saw him with Dr. Ramsey while exiting the Diagnostics Office.”

“Shit.”

“Something wrong Dr. Craig?”

But Sarah didn’t have an answer as she saw the young intern run again. Klaw knew where the diagnostics was and her breath hitched when she saw the two doctors conversing with each other in such seriousness that made her shivering from fear. Then she saw Simon slipping from his white coat his phone and telling something to Ethan. But before that she lunged forward while shouting.

“STOP!”

Both attendees flinched when they heard her frantic voice and saw her raised hands while shaking. They frowned in confusion at her as the baritone voice asked.

“Dr. Craig what is this? Another stunt of yours?”

“No no please just hear me out because I know that I owe you an apology Dr. Ramsey.”

He raised a cold eyebrow. As always he would never change that reflex she thought. “Pray, tell.”

“Well... I think that you’re quite aware now what I’ve done so far and... I’m truly sorry for that. I mean... who in the world does the mockery of someone in social media that everyone starts to make fun of it? Me with a whiskey around yesterday decided to throw that thing but I fully regret it. So... I’m saying it again Dr. Ramsey that I’m sorry I posted that photo on Instagram and I promise to delete that immediately.”

“What’s that photo?” He asked in confusion while shaking his head. “Because I didn’t get this Rookie. Would you like to explain to me what the hell is even the Insane thing?”

“But weren’t you seeing it with Dr. Tennant right now? He was showing it to-”

“Uhm-” Simon cleared his throat. “Klaw, I was showing Ethan the tomography of our patient after we diagnosed him.” He turned his phone to her and immediately she wanted nothing more than to burn herself or hide somewhere because now she felt so screwed. “I wasn’t going to tell him y’know.” Then he snorted when he finally realised what her intention was.

“Excuse me, can someone right now tell me what in the hell is going on?” Ethan glared at them when he felt his anger building up seeing the interaction between these two and the fact that they were sharing a secret made him raged.

The young doctor gulped hardly when she lit up her phone, opened the app and showed it to her attending. But what made Ethan even more angry despite he was remaining calm all the time was the description she had written:

Ladies and gentlemen I present to you the icy blue-eyed Dr. Ethan Ramsey in his usual mood- killing the interns.

Even though it may sounded funny to someone’s else ears, he wasn’t killing anyone. Especially when he wanted to push her to be the best doctor and to learn by hard. But clearly to him, maybe it was a mistake for picking her so that was his final straw.

“My office.”

He gave her phone back while trailing off and Simon gave her an encouragement smile as if meaning that it was the usual one of the many Dr. Ramsey’s moods but for Klaw this was unusual.

Ethan didn’t even let the door open for her as he did always and slammed it forcefully in her face. And that was her final straw.

“What the fuck?!”

“Language Craig!”

“Do you even know moral codes or what?”

“I’m not going to learn from you because you clearly have absolutely no knowledge about them.”

“Are you really worried for such a stupid little thing? I told you I was drunk!”

“Do you really think that I care that much for an animated figure which clearly doesn’t represent me but just another stupid jokes of yours?”

“Well my jokes are better than your dryly and sophisticated ones.” He scoffed unbelievably, not seeing that his words were actually hurting her. “I want to be taken off the PITA’s case because in my opinion there’s nothing left for me to do with a man who doesn’t respect me as a doctor and doesn’t acknowledge my work showing his belligerency and rudeness.”

So that’s why she was angry at him. But that didn’t even make him change his mind. He wasn’t surprised to see her in this state of rage and for a mere of seconds he thought how cute she looked when she was serious and flushed. Ethan gave her an unamused smile, not interested in what she just said. “No.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her right pupil dilated slightly while she was frowning.

“You’ve had difficult patients before. Keep trying.”

His calmness was making her even more furious and before she could stop herself she came forward and slapped her hands in his desk, while facing him with a shaking breath. This of course caught him off guard and stood up from his chair doing the same as her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Why are you punishing me?”

I’m not punishing you. I would never do that.

“Or is my saying right- that you enjoy to kill interns and make us suffer huh? Do you enjoy that?”

“You need to keep your personal feelings separate from your professional feelings Dr. Craig.” She tried to reply but was cut off. “I’d think very carefully before you say something to embarrass yourself.”

“Then why have you selected me this patient? For what reason?!”

“To challenge you, to push you to be the best doctor you can be! Don’t you get it already?”

Despite the closed door their voices could be heard loud and clear from outside. Their faces were in a close proximity without breaking their gazes to each other. Icy blue could see in dark fiery browns the embarrassment and the astonishment when she received his words. She understood now. It was never about Naveen’s secret that they were sharing. It was about her development that even after all of this he still thought of her.

For her best.

As a real attending should.

He sat on his chair with his crossed arms whereas she backed off a bit from his desk only to hear disappointment from him.

“When I make my evaluations every year... every intern that I’ve chosen were the best amongst the best and for that-” he flickered his eyes to her again with the coldest expression on his face that she had ever seen and shivered. “- I believed I saw a potential in you. It’s very rare that I’m wrong Rookie. But I’m willing to admit when I am... and I think I might have been wrong about you.”

The final words left her not only speechless but also breathtaking. She couldn’t feel her lungs as if everything stopped in that moment. Her heartbeats were giving her aches in her chest as she stared right back into his eyes- regret and pain. Ethan Ramsey regretted his intern right in front of her just like a slap in her face. That was the final cue from him that she wasn’t the best intern he had thought because this intern (she) had let him down.

Klaw shifted her left shoulder and broke eye contact with him while Ethan quirked sadly his mouth knowing her fully well anytime she got that nervousness. He got used to her and he hoped that these words would encourage to be better or otherwise- worse than now.

Deeply ashamed she couldn’t say another word and left his office without glancing back. She was determined to solve that case whatever that brat had and to prove once again that Dr. Craig or Rookie was the best intern he had chosen for the program.

Ethan sighed heavily when he opened his drawer to reveal her file that was the first of many others and stared down at her CV photograph that showed- bravery.

“You can do this Klaw.” He whispered to himself and for the first time he said her name which in Ethan’s horror wasn’t something good. He closed the file with a thud and put it back on his drawer while getting up from his chair to take a look in the window. He could feel his heartbeats quickening when he saw Klaw leaving with his patient Kyra who was trying to console her. At least she had friends to look after her.

Stop it Ethan. Stop thinking about her.

Reluctantly he pulled away from the window to busy himself with other important tasks so he would forget about piercing brown eyes.

#open heart #open heart fan fic #open heart fan fiction #my mc #klaw craig #ethan ramsey #klaw x ethan #ethan ramsey x mc #my writing

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consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

Text

If at first you don’t succeed... just live with your mistake

“My mommy’s the Style Queen.”

“Well my mommy’s an Italian Ambassador.”

Chloe scoffs. “So? My dad is the Mayor of Paris.”

AKA Chloe and Lila have a dick measuring contest.

______________________________________________________________

“This is your fault, Audrey! She acts exactly like you when you’re jet lagged and caffeine deprived. She definitely got it from you.”

“Excuse me?” Audrey delicately slams her iced mocha down on the imported Rosewood table. “She got it from me? I’m not the one whose name Chloe has dropped in every one of her little school fights.”

“I just don’t understand.” Gianna Rossi nurses her head in her hand. The whiskey that was delivered to her didn’t have the opportunity for water to condense on the sides, so the table remains free of stains. “How did Lila end up this way? I’ve always tried to lead by example, and I spend as much time with her as I can!”

Audrey pats Gianna’s forearm with a gloved hand. “Maybe it’s just teenage rebellion, darling.”

“I wish,” Gianna says, glumly. “Do you think it’s because she grew up without one of her parents?”

“Nonsense,” Andre waves his hand, still wearing the pretentious ribbon that proclaims he is the mayor of Paris. “Chloe grew up with a mother, and she turned out exactly the same way.”

He mutters more quietly, “Though a mother that was gone so often she might as well not have even been there.”

Audrey smacks Andre on the arm. “You know very well that you were gone more often when she was a baby. We agreed that we would rotate focusing on our careers every few years.”

“Yes, honey, but I’ve been on Chloe duty for the past eight years. You only took care of her when she was a toddler.”

“Who was the one who had to change diapers Andre? The one who woke up at 3 AM to feed her? The one who taught her the goddamn alphabet? Tell me that, Andre, tell me that.”

Gianna motions for another drink to be brought over by the butler that Andre and Audrey employ. Audrey holds up a hand and shakes her head. “Don’t do it, Gianna. It’s almost 4:30. School is going to get out soon.”

Pressing her head up against the lacquered wood, Gianna sighs. “All the more reason for me to drink.”

“You don’t want to be inebriated when you have to deal with Lila, do you?”

“I do,” Gianna wails. “I have to be! Do you know that Lila makes me drink more than my job does? And I’m the one who has to file all of those awful akuma attacks that always end up targeting Italian tourists because some people are still not over what we did in World War II!”

“Italy did do a lot of awful things back then,” Andre mutters.

“Shut it! Whether it’s right or wrong, one akuma attack out of every twenty five deals specifically with the prejudice against Italy. Italian tourists get caught up in seven attacks out ten. I’ve had to issue so many incident reports that I think I’m going to get carpal tunnel soon.”

“I can’t believe you have the statistics on those.”

Gianna’s voice shoots up two octaves. “You’re the mayor of Paris. Shouldn’t you be keeping track of statistics like these?”

“Ah,” Andre laughs awkwardly. “Of course I am. But back on topic. Who do you think it’s going to be this time? Chloe or Lila?”

A moment of silence. Then, in tandem, all three of their phones buzz.

“You just had to jinx it, didn’t you, Andre?” Audrey pulls out a pocket mirror, reapplies her lipstick, then stands. “Let’s go see what our girls did this time, non?”

Placing her sunglasses over her eyes, Audrey continues, “A hundred euros that the Dupain-Cheng girl will be one of their targets.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, honey. That girl has too much of a spine for either of them to get her involved.”

Gianna sobs for the umpteenth time that afternoon. “If Lila was just a little bit more like Marinette, so many of my problems would be relieved! Do you think if I pay her enough, she’ll be friends with my daughter?”

Audrey and Andre exchange glasses. Andre shakes his head. “Friendship won’t work. We tried to get our Chloe to play with Adrien. He’s still as well-mannered as ever, but Chloe… In any case, I’ll raise your hundred euro bet to one fifty and say that Sabrina will be involved.”

“That’s no fun,” Audrey complains. “You always take the obvious bets.”

The three parents make their way to Andre’s limo. Gianna may or may not take two shots of vodka on her way there.

“Chloekins!” Andre stretches his arms out to his daughter. His bad knee pops twice as he gets down to kneel.

“I don’t know why he insists on playing good cop bad cop when it hasn’t worked once in the past five years,” Audrey says to Gianna.

“At least you have a significant other to make that work. I have to be the good cop and the bad cop, all in one person, and it hasn’t worked ever. Maybe I should try looking for other single parents. Adrien’s father is single, right? And Adrien is such a sweetheart. Maybe I should try--”

Audrey waves her clutch slightly in the air to cut her off. “Trust me when I say that is an awful idea. Not only does the man still believe Emilie is alive, but he also keeps an obscene amount of iconography of her in his bedroom in his manor. And even if he somehow gets over Emilie, wish isn’t going to happen anytime soon, that snake, Nathalie, has been waiting in the wings even before Adrien was born.”

Gianna’s shoulders slump. “I thought ‘the good ones are all taken’ is only a phrase that’s supposed to be used by students.”

“Daddy!” Chloe stomped her foot. “I demand that you deport this-- this miscreant from Paris at once!”

“Daddy’s so proud of you for learning a new big word.” Andre continues to fawn over his daughter while Chloe and Lila’s classmates look on disgustedly at the dual display of affection and undermining Chloe’s intelligence. Nino lets out something that sounds suspiciously like, “Sick burn, dude.”

“Daddy!” Chloe’s voice gets even higher, and Audrey counts at least five of Chloe’s classmates cover their ears and wince. Andre glances back at Audrey, clearly expecting her to come in and lay down the law. Audrey doesn’t even bother raising an eyebrow in disbelief, She just stays completely still until her husband gets the point and turns back to their daughter, shoulders slumped.

“Sweetheart, we can’t just deport Lila for no reason,” Andre tries to placate Chloe, unsuccessfully. Somehow, the classmates and the teacher have gotten a hold of popcorn, and are now sharing it amongst themselves.

“I told you. It’s not for no reason. It’s because she’s a miscreant!”

Andre falters. He’s always given into Chloe’s demands, and Audrey has always been the one to fix things after. He gives in. “Okay, sweetheart. Then we can--”

“Hold on.” Gianna steps in between Andre and Chloe. Audrey smells alcohol coming from her mouth. Gianna’s cheeks are slightly pink. Audrey, herself, doesn’t believe in midday drinking, or really, drinking at all-- she thinks that it ruins skin and that inebriated people simply aren’t attractive-- but perhaps if Audrey wasn’t so involved in the fashion world, she’d be a little more similar to Mme. Rossi. “How about we hear both sides of the story before deciding what needs to be done?”

Lila and Chloe lock eyes, then immediately turn away with each other, crossing their arms at the exact same time. If Audrey didn’t remember every detail of Chloe’s birth because it was so painful, she’d be inclined to believe that the two girls were twins, or siblings at the very least. They’re just too similar in their mannerisms to believe that they’re completely unrelated.

Fluttering her eyelashes and playing up the image of a false saint that precisely nobody in the school believes anymore, Lila, looks at Andre and Gianna through watery eyes. “Chloe was bullying people! I simply had to intervene.”

“That’s not true! She was the one who started it!”

Gianna sighs. If she were any less of a woman, she would immediately buckle to the ground. But she’s been dealing with the Italian-Parisian politics, which are often fraught with tension, for nearly three decades, and with one Lila Rossi for thirteen years. “Why don’t we hear from an impartial third party?”

The three parents turn on the rest of the classroom. Sometime during the chaos, Caline Bustier fainted, and was promptly escorted to the nurse’s office by Mylene and Ivan. No matter. Caline isn’t the most… impartial or intelligent person they have to choose from. Audrey does feel slightly responsible for her lack of intelligence, as Chloe beaned Caline in the head with objects of various size and weight throughout Ecole, which is why the woman isn’t out of a job.

“Marinette and Adrien. Why don’t the two of you tell us what happened?” Audrey points at the two teens that are whispering to each other. They certainly have an interesting dynamic. If Marinette was taller, she’d love to have the two of them model for some of her shoots, together. No matter. She still has time to grow, and she has it on good word that Sabine is doing all she can to make sure her daughter grows to at least Tom’s height.

Chloe gasps. “You remember Maritrash’s name, but not mine?”

Beneath her sunglasses, Audrey rolls her eyes. Really, she makes one attempt at the younger generation’s humor, and it backfires on her horribly. She fired the intern who recommended that joke to her, so there’s really nothing more to be done. This is why it’s just so much easier to be harsh.

Luckily, Adrien deescalates the situation before Chloe starts on a second tangent that will likely end in tears instead of a fit of rage. Audrey wonders if she’s really that emotional when she’s jetlagged and in need of a pick-me-up. She’ll have to ask her assistant, next time.

“Well, it really started as two seprate issues at first.” Adrien rubs the back of his head and looks down at his feet. Maybe there’s a tradeoff. Indiscriminate rage in exchange for common sense. Confidence exchanged for timidity. “Chloe was… upset because she didn’t get a perfect on the last assignment Sabrina submitted for her.”

Audrey rolls her eyes again. What, there’s a reason she wears sunglasses everywhere she goes. She simply can’t deal with people’s stupidity, or when people make clearly exaggerated-- or in this case, very, very, almost criminally under exaggerated, judging by the bruises forming on Sabrina’s knees-- claims.

“And Lila was spinning another lie about Jagged Stone to Nino. Something about her being his lovechild,” Marinette finished. Now there’s a girl who has confidence, is more than confident at her craft, and is pretty. Really, the only negative things that she’s heard about the girl is that she’s sort of a clutz and rather bad at getting places on time, but both of those can be remedied. Etiquette class and a personal driver, and everything will be fixed.

There’s also the small matter about her apparently having the capability of picking locks and hyper fixating on whatever she likes, but Audrey has been trapped by men trying to get a ransom from Andre at least four separate times, and she wouldn’t be here today if she wasn’t a bit of a daredevil of lycee. As for the hyperfixation, so long as she’s able to move onto a new area of interest in time for each new collection, Audrey sees no reason why Marinette can’t excel in the fashion world.

“Lila Rossi! You know you are not the daughter of Jagged Stone! You’re going to be grounded for two weeks!”

Marinette nudges Adrien. “Excuse me, Mme. Rossi. Why don’t we finish the whole story before issuing any punishments? There’s… more.”

Adrien is associated with that good boy next door kind of aesthetic, but he pulls off unintentionally mildly ominous like he was born to do so.

“The short of it is that Chloe pushed Sabrina, Sabrina fell onto Lila, and that made Lila and Nino kiss. After that,” Marinette eyes Nino, who is wiping his mouth with his eighth wet wipe and being soothed by Alya with an arm on his shoulder. “Well, things kind of devolved from there.”

“You mean,” Chloe hisses. “That this wannabe pulled my hair, scratched my face, and knocked me to the ground!”

“You made me bleed!” Lila pulls her sleeve up. There aren’t actually any marks, but there aren’t any marks on Chloe, either.

“They did roll around on the floor for a while,” Alya admits, “But both of them were so up in each other’s business that it's difficult to make out who actually landed a hit on who, if either of them did manage to hurt each other. I have the footage, but even after we watched it a few times, it really just looks like the two of them are bear hugging each other on the floor.”

“Are you guys forgetting the real victims here?” Kim half shouts. “My beautiful face!”

Alix slaps him on the back. “Don’t worry about it. If it scars, it’ll just make you look mysterious. If it doesn’t… well I can’t say that your looks were ever good to begin with.”

Sabrina shuffles her feet. She’s definitely less injured than Kim’s nail scratches, with only bruising on one arm and on both of her knees.

“Chloe didn’t do anything bad,” she defends. “She’s perfect just the way she is!”

“That’s right, servant.”

Marinette turns to Adrien with a question in her eyes. He nods.

She bangs her head against his shoulder.

“Sorry about that, Chloe’s voice just really grates on me sometimes. I need to knock my head in order to get the ringing to stop.”

Lila shoots a smug look at the blonde girl. “See?”

“Lila’s too,” Marinette says, then bangs her head against Adrien’s shoulder one more time for good measure. “Adrien, Alya, do either of you want to continue?”

Adrien pulls Marinette into his chest. Alya steps forwards as the Champion of the Truth. “After their catfight, Kim and Sabrina broke them up. Sabrina took Chloe, Kim took Lila. After the two of them were separated, Mlle. Bustier went to M. Damocle’s office so all three of you were contacted. Chloe tried to go at Lila again once Sabrina loosened her hold, but Marinette geupplexed her.”

“Seriously,” Marinette stares at Chloe’s completely unruffled appearance. “What kind of hairspray does Chloe even use? Her hair is made of steel.”

“Her hairspray is made from venom and spite, dude.”

The tell tale sirens of a police car approach. “Oh, by the way, did M. Damocles not tell you that the police were going to take both of them in for questioning?”

“No,” Gianna Rossi says, curling in on herself. “No, he most definitely did not.”

Chloe and Lila are led away in handcuffs while the parents stand in a group, almost numbly.

“Why are our children like this?” Gianna pulls her hair. She’s had to take off so much time from her job this month alone in order to accommodate Lila’s ridiculous behaviors.

“Be comforted by the fact that they’re not working together. Can you imagine the kind of plans they’d think up?”

“Actually,” Alya interjects. “They have. Were you never contacted for the time they sent Marinette flying out the window?”

“WHAT?”

#original content #miraculous ladybug #chloe bourgeois #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #audrey bourgeois #andre bourgeois #gianna rossi #crack #comedy #everybody is done #lila salt #chloe salt

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idiot-cheesehead-archenemy · 4 years ago

Text

Maybe it wasn’t written in the stars

Happy (belated) Holidays, @spoop-geist! You asked for “any kind of Danny angst” - I hope this qualifies.

Word count: 9642

CW: implied/referenced suicide

Tucker accepted the call almost immediately, as usual. His room was dark, his face illuminated only by the light of the phone screen.

“Danny, hey. You’re looking surprisingly happy.”

“What, me?” Danny’s smile widened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really, though - this is the first time I’ve seen you really smile since you’ve been in the hospital. What’s the occasion?”

Danny paused for effect, then said, “I told my parents.”

“Oh, wow. That’s …”

“You guys were right - if whatever’s making me sick is a ghost thing, they might be able to help. I didn’t want to risk being stuck here longer than I needed to be because I was too much of a coward to tell them.”

“Nobody thought you were a coward, man. Telling them took a lot of courage.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Danny laughed awkwardly. “I actually waited until right before visiting hours were over, so that the hospital staff would make them leave afterward. I was afraid they’d need some time to cool down, you know.”

“But I take it the conversation went well.”

“What gave it away?” he asked, grinning. “Yes! Yes, it went well. Tucker, you have no idea the relief I’m feeling. I want to cry. I cried already. I’m just … it still doesn’t feel real.”

“Congratulations? Is that the right mood?”

“I think that fits, yeah. Thanks.” Danny flopped back onto his pillow, careful not to pull on the tube connected to his oxygen mask. “It feels so good to be done with it.”

“Have you told Sam?”

“I’m going to as soon as I hang up.”

“You called me first? She’ll love that.”

Danny frowned. “I didn’t mean anything by it; you were just first in my recent contacts.”

“Sure, but she’s your girlfriend.”

“What? No she isn’t.”

“She is a girl, yes? And you’re dating her?”

“We went on a date. We’re not, like, officially a couple.”

“So, what, you’re courting her?”

“Yeah.” Tucker looked surprised. “Is that alright with you?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so old-fashioned about relationships. Have you been overshadowed by a dead Victorian boy or something?”

“Cute, yeah, that must be it. Obviously I’m the one here who’s completely out of touch. You know, I don’t think the guy who thinks that two years is a generation is an authority on what is or isn’t old-fashioned.”

“It can be, depending on the context, and also that’s irrelevant, and also I think you should call Sam.”

“Okay, yes, I will.”

“And, you know, take care of yourself. And let me know if you need anything and all that. I wanna be here for you.”

“You’re always there for me, Tuck. And I will. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Danny hung up, found Sam’s name and hovered his finger over the “call” icon. She wouldn’t really be upset that he hadn’t called her first, right? He took a breath and tapped the button. A moment later, Sam’s face appeared, smiling. She’d taken her makeup off for the night, but Danny knew she probably wouldn’t be asleep for another couple of hours.

“Danny!”

“Hey.”

“What’s up? Any news?”

“No news about the, you know, but I do have good news of a more personal nature.”

“Oh?”

“I told my parents.”

Her jaw dropped, just a little. “That you’re Danny Phantom?”

“Yeah.”

“And everything’s good?”

“It really is. It was super emotional and admittedly I did say some stuff I wasn’t really planning on saying, and some of it was pretty mean, maybe justified but still mean, but they were totally understanding and apologetic - I mean, really, they apologized! They said they were wrong and they promised to change and that whole schtick. And it just felt -” his voice cracked slightly, and he suddenly felt his eyes stinging. He started blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “It felt really good, to hear them say all that. And to just have this off my shoulders.” No tears escaped his eyes, but he kept blinking to try to make the stinging go away. “Sorry.”

“You’re allowed to cry, Danny. It’s okay. Besides, I’m goth. Crying is, like, our favourite emotion.”

Danny chuckled. “I don’t think crying is an emotion.”

“It is in some cultures.”

“Okay.” He took a couple of deep breaths and checked his pulse oximeter - 91%, not too bad. “Well, yeah, that’s my news.”

“That’s really great, Danny. I’m really happy for you. And proud. I know how big this was.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it … it was nerve-wracking. But worth it.”

“Was Jazz with you?”

“Yeah, she’s been really leaning into the overprotective-big-sister role since she got back.” Danny cringed slightly as he remembered how she’d come into his hospital room for the first time and almost immediately started lecturing a nurse about the lack of natural sunlight Danny was getting. “I would have thought going to college might mellow her out, but she’s more the same than ever. Not that I’m complaining that she was with me when I talked to mom and dad. I don’t think I could have done it without someone I knew would have my back.”

“You know I or Tucker could have been there, right? We wouldn’t have minded.”

Oh, shit, should he have asked her to be there? Did she expect that because she was his quote-unquote girlfriend? “Well, it was kind of a family conversation.”

“Right, totally fair. Have you told Tucker, by the way?”

“Uh, yeah, I told him like a second ago, and then he made me hang up to tell you. He was afraid you’d be offended that I called him first.”

“Ha! Probably because he would have been offended if you’d called him second.”

Danny smiled. “Probably. I love him, but he is a tiny bit jealous sometimes.”

“Do you remember that time …”

“Ugh, no, I don’t, let’s not talk about it.”

“Sure thing. So you told your parents, they were cool, was that the end of the conversation?”

“They said they’re gonna set up their lab to try to figure out what’s wrong with me, working under the assumption that it has something to do with my ghost half. Not thrilled about the fact they’re probably going to need to take, you know, samples. But the alternative is worse, so.” He shrugged, then realized his shoulders weren’t in frame.

“I’ll keep praying, too. With the combined powers of modern science and the Almighty, I’m sure you’ll be out of there in no time.”

“Thanks.” There was a pause. He felt like he was supposed to say something else, but he didn’t know what.

“So, it’s a good thing you called, because my grandma and I were planning to bake some cookies for you, but I wanted to ask if I’m allowed to bring homemade stuff into the hospital. Oh, and my grandma wanted me to let you know that she’s praying for you, too.”

“Tell her thanks and I’m not sure about the food. I’ll ask the nurse next time they come in. Text me so I don’t forget.”

“Will do.” There was a pause again. Danny wondered how to tell the difference between an awkward pause and a regular pause. “Did you have any other pressing news to share?”

“I don’t think so. Things are pretty dull around here.”

“So you’ve said. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, possibly with cookies.”

“Sounds good.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Sam disconnected, and the silence Danny was left in wasn’t really silent at all. The beeping of the heart monitor, the ticking of the wall clock, and the hiss of the oxygen tank were so much more noticeable when they were the only things to pay attention to. He thought, not for the first time since he’d been here, about the vacuum of space. No sound, just the gentle darkness enveloping him and the billions of stars to keep him company. They wouldn’t twinkle, they’d just be points of light, the photons having traveled uninterrupted for thousands of years just to reach his eyes. He wished he could see the stars now. He wished he could fall asleep every night and wake up every morning surrounded by stars. In a thousand lifetimes, he was sure he’d never get tired of the view.

***

Jazz stepped into the cramped hospital room holding two water bottles.

“I know you said soda,” she began, not even waiting for Danny to protest, “but that stuff has a lot of sodium, and I know I’m not a doctor, but you really need to stay hydrated, so I think you could stand to drink a water bottle now and then.” She held one of the bottles out, and he took it with as little hesitance as he could muster. It was cold, at least.

“Sure, I can do that. If it’ll make you feel better.”

“Well, I thought maybe you would do it for your own health, but I’ll take it.” Danny opened the bottle and took a few gulps as Jazz took a seat in the plastic chair beside his bed. “So, how are you feeling?”

Danny rolled his eyes; it was at least the dozenth time she’d asked the exact same question in the past two weeks. It would be fine if she would accept “okay” as an answer, but she always wanted more detail.

“About mom and dad, good but a little nervous. I’m glad they’re so accepting of Danny Phantom, but sometimes it feels like they care more about him than me, you know? It’s all they want to talk about.” Jazz nodded seriously, like she was being briefed on a military assignment. He almost wished he hadn’t said anything. “Bored, otherwise,” Danny continued with a shrug. He looked at the water bottle in his hand. “Slightly craving soda. But, you know, this is good, too.” He uncapped the bottle again and downed the rest. He knew if he waited until it was warm he just wouldn’t drink it.

“Have you talked to mom and dad about how you feel?”

“Well, no.”

“They won’t change if they don’t know there’s a problem.”

“I guess not. But I don’t want to start a fight, especially when it seems like everything is basically going well.”

“I can understand that, but you deserve better than ‘basically going well.’ You deserve to be happy, Danny.”

“Sure, but you don’t think there’s even a small chance that starting a fight about this would make me less happy in the long run?”

“It doesn’t have to be a fight. Mom and dad still love you, even if they aren’t always the best at showing it. They want you to be happy.”

Danny fiddled with the tube of his oxygen mask. “I know.” Of course he knew that. But he also knew that them loving him didn’t necessarily mean that he could get through to them. He’d thought he’d done that already, when they agreed to reconsider their all-ghosts-are-evil stance, but even the best-intentioned leopard could only change so many of its spots at once.

“Well, I hope you figure something out that works for you. In the meantime, I can try to help with the boredom, but not for too long, unfortunately. I have some readings I need to do before tomorrow.”

“Oh, I mean, you could go home if you need to do homework. I don’t want to distract you.” He didn’t want her to leave, of course, but he knew from experience this wasn’t the best environment for focusing on schoolwork, especially since she already had the added difficulty of not going to class because she was visiting him.

Jazz smiled faintly. “I was thinking I could do it here, if you don’t mind just sitting in silence with me for a while. And, hey, do you have any homework?” Danny’s slight wince apparently answered the question for him. “So why don’t you work on your homework and I’ll work on mine? We can be accountability buddies.”

“What’s that?”

“What, accountability buddies? It’s when two or more people agree to do something together and keep each other accountable for doing what they set out to do. A lot of people have accountability buddies for exercising - maybe that’s where the term is from, I’m not sure - but it works just as well for studying.”

“Leave it to you to take a thing that jocks do and make it a nerd thing.”

It was Jazz’s turn to roll her eyes. “Danny, I don’t know if anyone has informed you, but you are, in fact, also a nerd. I know a lot of people who would say you’re a heck of a lot nerdier than I am, actually.”

“I wasn’t …” He shook his head. “Whatever.”

“Oh, wait, was that a compliment? If it was, thank you, but I didn’t come up with the idea of having a buddy to keep you accountable for schoolwork. Really, that’s basically what a study group is.”

“Is it? I guess so. I’ve never been in a study group. Kinda thought they were just a plot device in movies and TV shows to get the cast together.”

“Well, they can certainly fill that role, too, but they are real, and they can be pretty cool.”

“You would think studying is cool.”

Jazz frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“That you think studying is cool?”

“That you don’t. Where is this too-cool-for-school attitude coming from?”

“It really doesn’t need to be that deep, Jazz. I was just teasing you. That’s a normal thing; it doesn’t mean I have some deep-seated mental issues.”

“Oh, trust me when I say that we all have some deep-seated mental issues, and denying that fact never helped anyone. For example, I think maybe you’re not doing as well in school as you want to, and you also think that studying is for losers. Do you think you’re going to get better at school while thinking that?”

“I never said that I think studying is for losers, and even if I did, how I do in school is based on, you know, the work I do, not how I feel about it.”

“But the work that you do is a behaviour, and behaviours are caused by - and cause - thoughts and feelings. It’s all connected. So if you want to change your behaviour, one of the best things you can do is identify the thoughts that are causing it. That’s basically how cognitive behavioural therapy works.”

“Ok, cool. And …?”

“And, if you want help with that, I can print off some worksheets for you.”

“Would that make you feel better?”

“Will you promise to at least read them? Proper CBT is a little bit labour intensive, and it’s really not the same experience working with just a book and not a therapist, but I think it could be useful for you to learn some of the language and techniques, even without committing to the whole process. It becomes another tool in your toolkit, if nothing else.”

“Another weapon in the arsenal against … bad mental health?”

Jazz hesitated a second before smiling and saying, “Exactly.”

“Then sure, I will do that, then. Who doesn’t love more weapons?”

“Yes, that does make me feel better.”

“Cool. Now, didn’t you say you had homework?”

“I believe we both did, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Danny glared ruefully at his backpack for a moment before he reached into it and pulled out a textbook and a binder. “Yeah, yeah, I’m doing it.”

***

“Hey, sweetie.”

Danny took out his headphones and sat up. “Hey, mom, long time no see.” He was joking, of course - she’d been here every day for the past month, except yesterday. But she frowned, and Danny wished he hadn’t said anything.

“I’m sorry - I wanted to come visit yesterday, but -”

“It’s okay, mom. I was just joking. You’re fine.” She smiled weakly, but her eyes still looked sad. Danny had a feeling his answering smile was not much more convincing. “So, what news?” She didn’t need to say anything - the way her face fell, losing even the shadow of happiness, was answer enough. But she spoke anyway.

“We’ve … ruled out a lot of things. So, we are making progress.” Danny didn’t think that was the way she thought of it. “But we still don’t know …” anything useful, Danny filled in mentally.

“You don’t know how to cure me.”

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry, but we have to keep our … chins up. We’ll get through this together.” Had she been about to say ‘keep our spirits up’? Was she trying to make a pun, and then thought better of it, or did she not realize it would sound like a pun until she’d already started talking? He thought about asking, but he didn’t want to accidentally upset her again. He kept doing that. Obviously this whole situation was a bummer, but over the past couple of weeks, it seemed that people always got sadder when he spoke to them. As if it wasn’t bad enough that his health was a burden on everyone, apparently he had a talent for saying the wrong thing. He smiled again, trying to make it look more genuine.

“I know we will. I know you and dad are kicking ass in the lab - you’re two of the smartest people I know. If anyone can do this, it’s you. I mean, it’s all of us, the Fentons, together. We don’t give up, right?” Why did that sound so unconvincing? His mom nodded.

“Of course we don’t. Speaking of which, your father and I are still trying to convince the doctors that we can take care of you at home, but they’re still pretty nervous, given how …” She glanced at Danny’s oxygen tank. “… how quickly things might deteriorate if something did happen.” Danny nodded. He’d only had one scare since the one that had landed him in the hospital in the first place, but he was certainly grateful for the ability to summon a nurse so quickly with the push of a button.

“I do get where they’re coming from, but also, it would be nice to go home.” He wondered what home would be like. Would they keep him in the lab, so they could run tests more easily? Would he be able to walk around the house? Would it feel like the nightmares where he was trapped down there, being experimented on? Or maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he would be able to sleep in his bed, in his room, and everything would be almost normal except for the oxygen tank and the regular visits to the doctor.

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I trust the doctors to make the best decision. But, thanks for trying. And, you know, for … everything.”

She came to the side of the bed and crouched down, so her eyes were level with his, and she took his hands in hers. It was too close; Danny wanted to pull away. He didn’t know why. But he resisted the urge, and he met her gaze. “You know your father and I would do anything for you, Danny. And do it happily. We love you.”

“I know, mom. I love you too, and dad. You guys are the real superheroes.” He smirked at that last part, and it wasn’t even faked. It was just such a corny thing to say, he almost laughed. Especially since it wasn’t true at all.

“Aww, Danny.” She looked like she wanted to cry, and she leaned in for a hug, which Danny returned awkwardly, mostly because of the positioning, he told himself. “I love you so much,” she muttered into his shoulder. “You know that right?” She pulled back to look at his face again, and she stroked his hair. Danny smiled what he hoped was the right amount. “Your father and I love you, and we want nothing more than for you to be happy and healthy and safe.”

“Mom, if you’re trying to apologize again for trying to hunt me …” She was shaking her head. “Okay, good.”

She stood up, then leaned down again briefly to kiss the top of his head before going to sit in the chair against the wall. “So, how are other things? How’s school going? I hope your teachers are cutting you some slack.”

“Eh, not really, but it’s fine. I mean, I have plenty of time to do homework, and no distractions, so I’m actually keeping up pretty well. Better than before, I think.” He frowned. “I hope that doesn’t reveal some kind of uncomfortable truth about me.”

“I wonder if ...” she began, then she apparently thought about whether to say what she’d been thinking. A moment later, she said “You haven’t been ghost hunting, right? That must make a pretty big difference.”

“Yeah, I haven’t, that’s true.” He wished he could, but his grasp of duplication just wasn’t at that level, and he couldn’t exactly practice, now. “It is okay out there, right? I mean, you and dad are trying to figure out what’s up with me; you can’t also be out ghost-hunting all the time. And you banned Sam and Tucker from ghost-hunting alone, so you don’t have a lot of help, besides the red huntress, I guess. I’d hate to think … I don’t know. That the town was descending into chaos or something because I’m not there.”

“That’s sweet of you to worry. It’s also very in-character of you to feel like you’re holding all of Amity Park on your shoulders, but I can assure you that we’re managing to keep the chaos firmly at bay, even without you. It’s almost as if you don’t really need to push yourself to exhaustion. Like, maybe, you can actually relax and just be a teenager.”

“Hm. That’s one theory, I suppose.” He said it with a straight face, but then he cracked a smile, and his mom did too, and he was starting to feel like this whole conversation thing was going the way it was supposed to. In a more wistful voice, he said, “Still, it would be nice to go outside. See the stars, feel the wind in my hair, that sort of thing.”

“Well, when you get out of here, you’ll be able to do all that and also get your schoolwork done, since you won’t be out ghost-hunting until the sun rises anymore.”

“No, definitely not.” Not unless it was really important.

“Though, I’m curious about your grades … Do you feel mentally the same way you did before, like your mental capacity for doing schoolwork is the same, and your improvement is just because you have more time, or do you feel like your mental abilities are different now, so that the work feels easier? Does that make sense?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so. I think my mental abilities are the same, and the work still feels pretty hard … I guess math is easier, just because I’ve had time to catch up and read and watch stuff online that explains the parts I didn’t understand, so now I have that solid foundation to build on the new stuff we’re learning. But I don’t think everything is easier in general. I think it’s just time. I suppose I am sleeping better, and that’s supposed to be a big deal for attention span and stuff, but I don’t think I’ve noticed a huge difference.”

“And you haven’t been in ghost form at all since you’ve been in the hospital, right?”

Oh, of course. This was about him being half ghost. Everything was, nowadays, wasn’t it? “No, I haven’t. How could I transform when I’m hooked up to a heart monitor? I think someone might notice the sudden lack of a pulse.”

“Yes, I think that would be a cause for concern.” She said it with a joking tone and a half-smile, but Danny was having trouble matching the expression now. “And you don’t feel like staying in human form for this long has had any mental effects, deleterious or beneficial?”

“I don’t think so.” His voice was flat.

“Don’t you find that interesting?”

“I guess. Can we talk about something else?”

She looked disappointed. “Of course we can, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s just -” Danny stopped. He knew he should say something. He wanted to, even.

“What is it?”

“I don’t … like it … that …” He looked down at her feet. This was so much harder than it needed to be. “… it feels like you always want to talk about … my ghost half. I feel like every conversation always ends up there, and it makes me feel like you … I mean …” He was trying his hardest to do the whole ‘I-statements' thing, but gosh it was annoying. “It makes me feel … not … seen. Like you’re only seeing me as a half-ghost, now, instead of that being just one thing about me.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She walked back over to the bed, knelt beside it, and gave him another awkward hug. “Baby, I’m sorry. I thought you would want to talk about it. I didn’t want you to think it was something I was afraid of or judging you for. I wanted it to just be a normal thing to talk about, like school or friends. I’m so sorry that I did the opposite.” She pulled away from the hug, but left her hands on his shoulders as she met his eyes. “I promise I don’t see you any differently, Danny.”

Danny was very tempted to accept the apology and leave it there. But he didn’t think he’d be brave enough to broach the topic again, so whatever he wanted to say, he knew he’d better say it now. “But you do, though. I mean, I expected you to. I’m literally a ghost - that’s different. But when you ask me about ghost stuff, it’s never just … normal questions, like you would ask about school or friends. You always sound more like a scientist than a mom.” She looked hurt by that, and Danny immediately regretted his words. “I mean, I’m not trying to say you’re not being a good mom or anything like that, just … You do see me differently. You are a scientist, and I am a ghost, and that’s … I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

His mom appeared to be thinking about what he’d said. She looked upset, but he didn’t know whether it was about-to-start-crying upset or about-to-start-lecturing upset. Finally, she just said, “I don’t understand.”

“I mean … I don’t expect you to see me the same way, but I guess I don’t want you to treat me differently? Or, no, that’s not … I’m not saying I don’t want to talk about me being half ghost, because that is part of who I am and I do want to talk about it sometimes, but I’d rather, when we talked about it, that you would be more interested in, you know, me and how I’m feeling and stuff, instead of my … biology or psychology or whatever.”

“Danny, I’m trying to understand, but I thought that’s what I was doing. I thought I was asking you about your feelings and experiences. I do care about you as my son, not some science experiment.” She was definitely looking closer to about-to-start-crying upset, now, and Danny had to look away.

“Okay, well, sometimes it doesn’t feel that way, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just biased, but sometimes, a lot of the times, it feels more like you’re gathering data for a report instead of just talking to me.”

“I want to do better, but I’m not sure how.”

“Just … maybe let’s just stick to not talking about ghost stuff unless I bring it up first. Does that work?”

She nodded. “I can do that.”

“Thanks.”

“I love you, Danny.”

Danny leaned against her shoulder, and she responded by wrapping him up in her arms. The hug still felt awkward, but he didn’t really want to pull away.

“I love you too, mom.”

***

“I’m not sure I would’ve come back so quickly,” Valerie said. “It might be nice to get a vacation from all the high school bullshit.”

“Yeah, I’ll be honest, I somehow managed to forget how much of an outcast I was, and having tubes stuck in my face hasn’t helped, if you can believe it.” Danny looked idly around the cafeteria. Nobody was openly staring at him, but he saw a few people throw glances his way. He shook his head and turned back to Valerie. “But trust me, being stuck in a hospital room is no vacation.” Still, he wished he’d at least tried to convince the school he needed to stay home a while longer. Maybe he could have pulled it off.

Sam eyed the ambiguous meat that had slipped off Danny’s fork while he wasn’t paying attention. “You can’t tell me that the food wasn’t better, at least.”

“The hospital mostly just had prepackaged stuff, so, I guess that was better, but I kinda like getting different foods every day, even if they suck. Variety is the spice of … food, I guess.”

“I think spice is the spice of food.”

Danny didn’t reply - he’d just noticed someone walking purposefully toward their table, and he groaned. Sam and Valerie followed his gaze, and Valerie muttered,

“Not this again.”

Danny shot a look at her, and then at Sam, who shrugged as if to say, ‘I don’t know, either.’ Danny wanted to ask Valerie what she meant, but obviously that would have to wait.

“Fenton,” Wes began, a smile that could only be described as sarcastic plastered across his face, “it is so good to see you again. It’s been so quiet the past few weeks.”

“Oh, has it? Where did you go?”

“Oh, no, no I’ve been around. But it’s actually funny that you say that, because there is someone else who’s usually here who -”

“Just spit it out,” Sam said. “The faster you’re done, the sooner I don’t have to be talking to you anymore.”

Wes didn’t look at all phased, but of course he didn’t. If he was capable of being phased, he would have stopped bothering Danny and his friends years ago. Danny thought about telekinetically untying Wes’ shoelaces, but remembered that he had switched to slip-ons last semester precisely to avoid that.

“Fine. Nobody has seen Phantom since Fenton here was in the hospital. That is,” he said quickly, sensing that everyone at the table was getting ready to cut him off again, “until last night.” Oh, right. Danny had been so excited to see the stars again, he hadn’t even thought about being stealthy. “Apparently he was spotted over a park by multiple people. Danny, you got home from the hospital yesterday, right?”

“No, I’ve been here the whole time. I don’t know how you missed me.” Wes rolled his eyes. Sam smirked. Valerie was looking down at her food. She looked … uncomfortable. Embarrassed, maybe? What the heck had Wes said to her?

“Well, I’m just saying,” slogan of assholes everywhere, Danny thought, “that it’s an interesting coincidence.” He turned to Valerie, who was still avoiding eye contact with everyone. “Don’t you think it’s interesting, Valerie?”

Valerie’s expression went from awkward to pissed in no seconds flat. She glared at Wes, stabbing her fork in his direction as she spoke. “I think you need to back off. Nobody wants you here, nobody wants to talk to you, nobody gives a crap what you think. And, like you so nicely pointed out, Danny just got out of the hospital. You couldn’t leave him alone for twenty-four hours? Come on, man. Just leave.”

Wes raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m -”

“She said leave, dude,” Sam snapped. “That means now.” Hands still raised, Wes backed away from the table without saying another word. Danny mentally reached out to form a small ecto-shield under Wes’ foot, causing him to slip and fall onto his ass to the laughter of the nearby tables.

Danny turned his attention back to Valerie, who was looking at the clock. They were about ten minutes into the period. “Hey, sorry about him,” Danny said. Valerie met his gaze, her expression somewhere between surprised and confused. “I wish I knew how to make him only harass me instead of everyone around me.”

“Oh, it’s … it’s fine, Wes is Wes, it’s not your fault.”

“He never, I don’t know, made you uncomfortable or anything, did he? I mean, more than just being his normal jerky self?”

“No,” she said, very quickly.

Danny shot a sideways glance at Sam, who had her eyes narrowed. She asked, “Are you okay? Do I need to kill Wes for you? I can make it happen, just say the word.”

“No. No, guys, I’m fine. It’s nothing like that. I just hate the way he treats Danny.” She didn’t look angry anymore, though. She just looked distracted. Her eyes kept moving around the room. “I mean, it’s ridiculous right? A ghost being part human? Who ever heard of something like that?” Danny did not laugh nervously, nor did he exchange a look with Sam. What he did was nod, which was obviously the least suspicious thing to do. “And I mean, it’s not like he has any evidence. Just, you know. Coincidences.” She dropped her eyes to her food, again.

“He claims to have coincidences,” Sam said. “But he has a pretty clear agenda. You can’t just trust everything he says.”

“Right. Right, yeah. How would I know whether Phantom was actually seen last night, or any time over the past six weeks? All I have is his word.”

Danny could see that Sam was about to say something else, but he spoke first.

“Val?”

She looked up. “Yeah?”

He could feel his heart trying to escape his ribcage, and he considered whether to give himself more oxygen. “Why don’t we just finish lunch and forget about Wes for now. And maybe later … if you want to … talk …” He shrugged. Valerie was quiet for a minute - or maybe a couple of seconds - then she smiled faintly.

“Can do. But, I don’t really need to talk. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, what is there to talk about? Some dumb kid and his dumb theories? I already forgot what he was saying.”

***

Danny awoke with a feeling of mild dread, as he usually did, and he did his best to dispel it by meditating, as he had recently started doing. He tried to just imagine himself floating through space. When his mind drifted, it was mostly to his parents. He wanted to believe they were making progress, but … he didn’t. After almost three months, they still seemed to be saying the same things, about how that last analysis had ruled certain things out, and how this new analysis would really give them something to work with, and so on. At least the doctors were honest about the fact that they didn’t know what to do.

Eventually he opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight. It was Sunday. He vaguely remembered that Sunday used to be a chill day to relax and do whatever he wanted. At some point it had become a day to catch up on all the school he’d been neglecting all week due to ghost-hunting. Danny hadn’t been doing much by way of ghost hunting, since he’d gotten home from the hospital. (He got winded easily, even in ghost form. That seemed unfair, that he needed oxygen even as a ghost. But he supposed it was the trade-off for having access to some of his ghost powers even as a human.) Somehow, though, he’d still managed to neglect his homework all week, and now he had a draft of an English essay to write in a day. So apparently it was never the ghost stuff - he was just terrible at school. He was going to fail and never get into university and -

No, stop. Danny took a deep breath from his diaphragm. That was a cognitive distortion. Catastrophization or something? Overgeneralization? Either way, he had evidence it wasn’t true. Danny had been doing well this semester. He probably shouldn’t have waited so long to write this draft, but he did have his thesis and a few quotes picked out. He still had all day. He took a few more deep breaths before taking out his English binder and his laptop.

Tucker came by in the afternoon with some brownies.

“Is it good?” Tucker asked, excited.

“It’s great,” Danny said between bites, “Did you make these?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing I’m trying. Turns out brownies are, like, really easy. And cake and cookies - you just mix a couple basic ingredients, throw in whatever else you want, and then cook, and now you have food.”

“Convenient.”

“Right? I can’t believe I’m only just now discovering this. Can you imagine being ten years old and knowing that desert was never more than an hour away, if you wanted it?”

“There might be a reason that knowledge was kept from us.”

“Adults and their conspiracies. So, what have you been up to?”

“Ugh.” Danny glanced at his laptop. “Right now, English essay.”

“You make it sound so exciting.”

“Well, it’s certainly got my heart rate up, since it needs to be done by tomorrow, for whatever that’s worth.”

“What are you writing about?”

“The Lord of the Flies as an indictment of toxic masculinity.”

“Sam’s idea?”

Danny made a face. “No. I can criticize society, too, you know.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Also, I’m a trans guy, so I feel like I’m pretty well within my wheelhouse, here.”

“Fair point. So it kinda sounds like you are actually enjoying writing it.”

“Eh, it’s not as interesting as I’m making it sound. It’s just finding quotes and then explaining how they show that the author believes such-and-such. Well, you know; you had English last semester.”

“Yeah, I guess I don’t remember it as a rigorous intellectual exercise. Speaking of rigorous intellectual exercises, though, you remember the robot I was telling you about?”

“The one you’re building? Sure.”

Tucker held up a finger, then fished his most recent project out of his bag and held it out for Danny to examine. Danny’s eyes widened the appropriate amount and Tucker grinned, satisfied, as Danny took it and turned it over. “That arm can grip everything from an egg to a bowling ball - the grip strength varies smoothly and it has a smart sensor that chooses the minimum effective strength. And it can choose whether to use the legs or the wheels - they’re tucked up underneath, there - based on the type of terrain, which it judges based on data from the gyroscope and the camera. Oh, do you wanna see the code?” Tucker took out his phone.

“Uh, you can show it to me, but I don’t think I’ll understand much of it.”

“I won’t get too detailed, I promise. I’m just really proud and I wanna show you what I did.”

“You should be. This is totally cool.” He looked at the robot again. “I wish I could do stuff like this.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“A lack of the knowledge of how to do it, for one thing.”

“So learn. What are you doing this summer?”

Tucker had him there. “Not much.”

“You should do a coding course. There are some really affordable, totally online ones that you can do from anywhere. I mean, there are some garbage ones, so do your research, but if you have even a little bit of interest, I absolutely recommend it. The future is written in code; if you can write code, you can write the future.”

Danny laughed. “That’s a pretty good tagline.”

“And it’s true, too.”

“Okay, I’ll look into it.” He typed a note on his phone that read ‘coding course for summer?’ “And I believe you were going to regale me with the story of how you taught this thing to tell different types of ground apart.”

***

Danny didn’t blink, and neither did Dr. Dufour. The doctor took a deep breath. Danny didn’t. Finally, the doctor said, “No. I’m not legally required to tell them.” Danny let out his breath.

“Then I don’t want you to.”

“Are you sure, Danny? I want you to really consider what the next few months are going to look like.”

“That’s what I’m doing. I don’t want it to look like … everyone mourning me while I’m still here. I just want it to be normal.”

“It might be easier for both you and them to find closure if you have more time to talk about and make peace with the situation.”

“I know.” Danny pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned his forehead against them. “I know. Maybe later … but not right now.”

***

“You can breathe, dad. I’m the one with the oxygen tank, remember?” Jack was still standing next to Danny, looking around, hands raised as if to grab some tool or press some button. But of course Danny had already adjusted his oxygen intake just like the nurse had shown him and Jack and Maddie how to do before Danny had been allowed to come home. Now his pulse oximeter was showing 93% - low for a normal person but pretty high for Danny. And Danny looked … well, a little bit paler and a little bit heavier than he had three months ago, but otherwise perfectly fine. Of course, he’d looked perfectly fine a few minutes ago, too, right before his blood oxygen had suddenly started dropping.

“You’re sure you’re okay? Is there anything else I can do?”

“I’m all good.”

“Do I need to bring you to the hospital?”

“No. Doctor Dufour says that I only need to come in outside of the tests and check-ups if something changes. This is … this is normal.” Danny looked so sad when he said that, it broke Jack’s heart. He just wanted Danny to be okay.

“It’s not normal, son. I promise, it won’t always be like this. We’ll fix it.”

Danny smiled a little. “I know you’re doing everything you can. The doctors are, too.”

“You can’t give up hope, son. We can do this.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t mean …” Danny, looking like he was lost in thought, turned to look out the window. “I just meant, this is normal for now. It’s nothing to worry about. That’s all.”

“You’re right, I’m not worried. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ll get through this.” Jack bent down to squeeze Danny in a bear hug.

“Dad, oxygen tubes.”

Jack let go quickly. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok.” He met Jack’s eyes and smiled. “I love you.”

Jack caught his breath. It wasn’t something Danny said often, and hearing it brought happy tears to Jack’s eyes. “I love you too, son.”

“Now, can we forget about this -” he gestured to his oxygen tank “- for a bit?”

“Already out of my mind,” Jack said, and Danny tried to hide a smirk. He sat back down in Danny’s desk chair, which complained under his weight but held him just fine. “What were you talking about before? Creation disks?” Danny smiled again, much bigger this time.

“Accretion disks, but I actually like ‘creation disks’ if you’re talking about the formation of stars. Or, it works for protoplanetary disks, too. But I was talking about quasars, which are kind of the opposite. You know how black holes form, right? Just as a quick summary, the fusion of light elements like helium releases energy …”

Jack listened as intently as he could. He’d been disappointed at first when Danny had told him he wanted to talk about things other than ghosts and ghost hunting - it had been something they could easily bond over, and Jack didn’t understand why Danny wouldn’t want that. It had felt like a rejection, like he was saying he didn’t want to bond with him, or even that he didn’t want to be like him. But when Jack saw how excited Danny got talking about this space stuff, he could tell this was a good thing, even if he didn’t understand it.

***

“ … not sure whether I should be making the posters out of something more durable, maybe laminating them. Obviously a lot of them are just going to get torn down, because, you know, people don’t like when the system that benefits them is called into question, so it might be kind of wasteful. On the other hand, I definitely don’t want them just getting wrecked if it rains or …” Sam stopped, realizing that Danny was somewhere else. It took him a few seconds to notice she wasn’t talking anymore.

“What? Sorry, did you ask me something?” Sam frowned. “Shit, I’m sorry, I just didn’t sleep well, and -”

“Danny.”

He looked nervous. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m not … Danny, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Like you were ‘just tired’ every time your parents asked why you looked like shit after fighting a ghost?”

“No. Just regular tired.”

“You know you can talk to me.”

“I know.”

“What were you thinking about, just now?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Just … nothing.”

He was obviously upset, and Sam had the feeling that he wanted to say something but was second-guessing himself. She didn’t know what to do about it, though. “Is there anything else you want to talk about? I was going on about my stuff for a while. What’s up in your world?”

Danny shrugged. “Nothing interesting. And I like hearing you talk.” He smiled. “I love you.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve said that.”

“What? I say it all the time.”

“No, it was always ‘I love you too.’ This is the first time you said it first.”

“Oh, well …” He looked so uncomfortable. Maybe she shouldn’t have pointed it out. “It’s true, though. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Danny. All of you.”

He laughed nervously. “What … what is that supposed to mean?”

“It just means … you don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to. But if you do tell me … anything, it’ll be okay.”

“I …” Sam could see the mental back-and-forth. There was something he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “Do you promise not to get upset? I don’t mean mad at me, I mean … upset. In general.”

Sam did not think she could promise not to have any kind of negative emotional response, but she also badly wanted to know whatever it was he was afraid to say. “Okay. I promise.”

He took a deep breath, then another. He looked down at his pulse oximeter, and his eyes widened a little. It showed 89%. He took a few more deep breaths before he spoke. His eyes were firmly fixed on his sheets. “I’ve been wondering … what would happen … if I died.”

Oh, yeah. She could see how someone might find that upsetting. Danny peeked up at her. She had no idea what he saw on her face.

“I think my ghost half would still exist, or at least I don’t see why it wouldn’t, but would it still be partially human, or would I just be a full ghost, with all the full ghost powers? Would I feel like the same person? Would I have an obsession? Just stuff like that, you know. I’m not trying to be morbid or anything, but … that’s what’s been on my mind. I don’t want you to read too much into it, but you asked, so. Yeah.”

She could read too much into it, if she wanted to. But Sam would be the last person to believe that there was anything inherently wrong with being morbid. If Danny wanted to speculate about his own death, more power to him. And besides, she’d been wondering a lot of the same things.

“I appreciate you sharing that. And I promise I’m not upset.”

Danny’s shoulders dropped as he let go of the tension in them. “Thank you.”

“You’re not thinking about hurting yourself, right?”

“No!” He looked disturbed that she had even asked. “No, of course not.”

“I had to check. And you’re … okay? Generally?”

“Yeah, I am. Things have been going really well, lately.” For a moment, his eyes were focused on something far away, again. Then he met her eyes and smiled, and she smiled back.

***

When the temperature suddenly dropped in Wes’ bedroom, he knew exactly what it meant, even before he heard the familiar voice behind him.

“Hey, Wes.”

Wes spun around in his desk chair, trying to mentally chart a route from where he was sitting, past the ghost in the middle of the room, to his bed, where his small ecto-gun lay hidden under the pillow.

“Calm down, I’m not here to fight you.” Phantom - Fenton - was floating just above the floor in a casual pose, his hands at his sides. Wes eyed him with open suspicion.

“What do you want, Fenton?”

Fenton smiled a little. “If you can believe it, I want to apologize.”

Wes crossed his arms. “I can’t.”

Fenton nodded. “That’s fair. But I’m going to do it, anyway.” He lowered himself gently so he was standing on the floor, and then a ring of blinding white light appeared around his waist. Wes hit the floor, covering his head with his arms in a vain attempt to protect himself from whatever this was. There was no heat, no noise, no shockwave. The light faded after a second and Wes heard Fenton chuckling. He looked up to see Fenton - Holy Shit. Fenton, looking as human as he’d ever looked, standing where Phantom had just been. “What’s wrong, Wes? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Fenton chuckled again.

“You … you just … but … why?” Wes winced slightly at his incoherence.

“Why am I finally admitting it after all this time?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“Is this … the apology? You’re sorry for making everyone think I was crazy when I was right?”

“No, I think I was very justified in keeping this secret. But I probably wasn’t justified in tormenting you with my powers. Constantly tripping you, stealing your homework -”

“I knew it!” He could never tell any of his teachers that a ghost stole his homework, but what other explanation was there? And all those times he tripped over seemingly nothing … of course it had been Phantom. Wes had known, just as surely as he’d known that Phantom and Fenton were the same person, but it felt so good to have it finally confirmed. “Wait, did you pour water on my pants that one time to make it look like I peed?”

Fenton burst into laughter. Wes glared. “Oh man, I forgot that one. That was brutal.” Fenton wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry for that, too.”

“You don’t look very sorry.”

“I mean, it was funny. But -” He took a deep breath, then got a nervous look on his face and suddenly the white ring appeared again. Wes flinched and closed his eyes, then opened them to see Phantom standing there again. “Yes,” he said, looking more serious, now. “I am sorry. I never really tried talking to you. I just decided that, since you were trying to out me, you must be a bad person, and I was justified in messing with you however I wanted. But you’re probably not as bad a person as I think you are, and even if you are, that doesn’t make it ok for me to bully you like that.”

“So … you’re saying you’ll stop?”

Fenton smiled, but there was something about his eyes … it almost looked like he was about to start crying. Could ghosts cry? “Yeah. You don’t have to worry about me messing with you anymore.”

“Are you going to tell everyone that I was right?”

Phantom’s expression didn’t change. He just looked at Wes. After a few moments, he took a breath as if he was about to stay something, held it for a second, and then disappeared. Wes felt a soft rush of air and figured he was probably alone, again.

“... What the Hell was that about?”

***

“Hey, what’s up?” Danny’s voice was slightly muffled by what Jazz assumed was wind.

“Hey, not much. Are you outside? I can’t hear you very well.”

“Oh, sorry.” For a second there was just the sound of wind, then a static-y noise that made Jazz pull the phone away from her ear, then it was quiet. “Is this better?”

“Yeah. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“No, I was just stargazing up on the roof. How are you? How are things?”

“Things are good. I’m enjoying all my classes this quarter, great profs. I’m taking a really interesting one about the effects of the environment on health, so things like how poverty affects the immune system, all through the lens of neurology, of course. It’ll probably be one of the harder classes that I’ve taken, but it’s really exciting stuff. We don’t even have a textbook; it’s all based on really recent research that the prof is collecting on the course website. So that’s fun. What about you? How are things?”

“Uhh … good, I guess. It’s close to finals, so, busy. No change in health.”

“Well, hang in there. You’ll get through it.”

“Thanks.”

“I actually wanted to talk about school. Not trying to stress you out or anything, but I just learned about a new program Stanford is going to be offering that’s aimed toward future astronauts.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t the reaction Jazz had expected. He usually got so excited about anything related to becoming an astronaut. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Was he okay? Should she ask? “... right, so, it’s not a separate degree, but if you’re in the aeronautics and astronautics undergraduate program, there’s going to be a specific class you take each year, with some kind of capstone project at the end, like a thesis I guess, uhm, and then when you finish there’s a special designation you get, which, basically it will look really good for any grad school applications. I can send you a link if you want, there aren’t too many details yet but I thought you’d be interested to know for when you start applying to colleges.”

“Uh, yeah, you can send that. I’ll take a look. Thanks.”

She should say something. He might be annoyed now, but she didn’t want to regret it later when she found out something was really wrong and she could have helped. “Danny, are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Aside from the obvious, I mean.”

“You said there’s been no change?”

“Yeah. Still sick, but getting by.”

“It’s just, you sound sort of down. Not to be presumptuous, but I thought you’d be excited that there’s a program that can bring you closer to being an astronaut.”

“Oh, yeah, well … it’s just, my grades, you know? I’m not sure about getting into Stanford, let alone a special program at Stanford.”

“Oh!” Of course it was about that. He’d been struggling to reconcile his current grades with his future plans since freshman year. “Well, I can’t promise anything, but you know I’ll help you with your application, right? And there’s still time to get some extracurriculars in to round things out, especially since you’re not spending as much time with ghost hunting these days. And, actually, you’re kind of working with mom and dad in the lab, now, right? So you’re getting a head start on a lot of engineering stuff - that might give you a leg-up.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I don’t mean to stress you out prematurely, but if you start thinking about your application now, I think you can have something really strong. Again, not making any promises, but I wouldn’t count yourself out just because you don’t have the highest grades. Lots of people have good grades, but the admissions officers will really care more about your experiences outside the classroom.”

“Okay, cool. That’s … something to think about, then. Sorry, it’s getting late here, so …”

“Right, right, I’ll let you go. It was good to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you too. … I love you.”

The line disconnected before Jazz could respond.

***

Maddie read the note first. She found it lying on top of Danny’s uncharacteristically well-made bed. There was no addressee or signature.

If things go according to plan, I’ll see you soon.

If not, know that I’m grateful to you for everything, and I’m sorry, and I love you.

***

Apparently, things didn’t go according to plan.

***

“... reported it to the police, but it doesn’t feel like they’re doing enough.” Jack was trying not to raise his voice. His hand that wasn't holding the phone was clenched into a fist. “I get that they’re busy, but he’s my son, and he’s missing, and I can't just -”

“You don’t need to explain yourself; I understand.”

Jack sighed. “Thanks. So, do you think there’s anything you can do?”

“I regret that my powers as mayor are quite limited in this regard, but I can assure you that I will dedicate all of the resources at my disposal, both public and private, to finding Daniel. Nothing is more important to me than assuring his safety.”

#danny phantom #holiday truce 2020 #christmas truce 2020 #phanfic #my writing #suicide cw #edit: some people said the ending didn't make sense and they were right so i changed it #i may eventually add the second chapter to give context but idk maybe it's not necessary #also i haven't written it yet #also i deleted the work on ao3 because it was stressing me out sorry #i just didn't want anyone to see it there marked as 1/2 chapters when i might not actually do a 2nd chapter

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blackberry-gingham · 4 years ago

Note

Hii I love your writing and was so happy to see your taking requests💗. If your ok with doing au’s, could I request headcannons for the lads being the reader’s guardian angel?

Aw this sweet 🥺🥺 sure, I'll see what I can do! I feel like this an established trope, but I don't know too much about it bc I haven't seen many examples 💀 Sooooo yeah, I'm just going to do my own take on this!

I'm thinking of the like typical bird people type angels, so you know, like a physical being with wings on the back and stuff, oh but a thing to note is only you can see your angel!

George

George would 10/10 be an overbearing guardian angel lol

Technically, angels aren't supposed to reveal themselves unless if their charge is in either extreme distress or a life or death situation

But George always worries for you!

Tripped and scrapped up your knee as a kid?

George is there to help you up and dry your tears

Lost your mom at the store?

George comes to help you find her

Stuck in the rain at the bus stop after work?

George let's you take cover under his wing to stay dry

Needless to say, you guys become super fast friends!!

It gets to a point where he just hangs out with you whenever and wherever, even if you're just sitting in your room

What can he say? He loves spending time with you!

Oh another thing, George loves trying human food!

If you like cooking or baking, or even if you don't mind just making an extra lunch sandwich, he really appreciates it and loves whatever you make!

Also, he loves when you touch or play with his wings

Usually this is kind of a no no with other angels since it's a big source of their power, but you and George have a special bond!

If any of his feathers fall out from preening, he lets you keep them

Once they're seperated from the wing, they lose most of their power, but enough of them together can ward off minor threats in his absence

He loves that that's a thing

It's like he can still protect you, even when he can't be there :)

John

Have you guys ever seen that meme where it's like an angel statue and it's face palming?

Then the caption is like "my guardian angel watching me, like, exist" or whatever lmao

That's John 😂

At first you're kind of just a silly little human to him tbh

Maybe even a little rascal!!

So he's there for you pretty often

I mean really, how is he supposed to stay away when you so obviously need his protection???

After all, anyone who gets John assigned as their angel probably likes getting up to mischief lol

He lets your parents handle little things, like a scraped knee or a bad day, but things that get you really hurt like a bad fall, will have him come running

Another weakness is he can be a bit overbearing and will kind of like... jedi mind trick bullies and the like away from you to keep you safe

But times where you're in emotional distress...

You can always rely on him

Like, the night before starting a new school year or a tough test?

He'll sit up and comfort you all night if he has to until you feel calm enough to sleep

Stressing for an interview or meeting?

You can bet he'll be sitting right there with you the whole time, cheering you on!

It takes a bit of time for John to trust you, but as the years pass, you find you're able to rely on his presence pretty consistently

If you've held onto your mischievous streak and like doing thrilling type activities, like hiking, rafting, or bungee jumping, John is by your side like 24/7 lol

One the one hand he wants to participate as much as he's able

But at the same time, he watches you like a hawk, making sure you don't get hurt, or worse

And good thing too

Let's just say he's saved you from such a fate more then once lol

Paul

Honestly, Paul would be the one to follow Da Rules™ the closest

He feels just awful seeing you sad or hurt as a kid, but he knows he's really not supposed to reveal himself

Despite, John and George doing whatever the heck they want apparently

Of course, he has come to your rescue a few times as a kid tho!

One day at the lake, you waded in alone and got caught in an undertoe

You were terrified to find that you couldn't swim to the surface

And just when you thought you couldn't hold your breath any longer, a hand plunged in and snatched you up

Your parents, who were worried sick, found you on the shore side a few minutes later

You always wondered who saved you...

As you got older and started to learn about guardian angels however, that's when you started getting more acquainted with Paul

See, kids usually don't understand what's happening when they see an angel, and the angels certainly wouldn't want their kids to be afraid of them!

They also wouldn't want to risk the children getting too attached

After all, that kind of bonding should be built with caretakers and other humans

But once you're grown, it's much safer to be a little more loose with interactions between the angel and their human

Once you are older, and find yourself getting into less dangerous situations, Paul just hangs out with you like a friend would

You love having him around, especially in stressful times like school and work deadlines

He likes to sing to you when you're feeling anxious, and with you when you're having fun!

His voice is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard, and you love it more then any human music

Which is kinda funny, considering he seems quite fascinated with human instruments and songs!

Ringo

Ringo, like Paul, is also pretty big on following Da Rules™

Although, Ringo is very overprotective towards you when you're sick

Especially if you're sick a lot or have something chronic, like asthma and the like

One night, during a really bad case of phnuemonia, you had to spend a few nights in the hospital

It was awful, especially for a little kid such as yourself

Even though you were in no immediate danger, anytime your family or doctor couldn't be there, Ringo stuck by your side all the while

It was sort of your official meeting, honestly

At first you were scared that you'd died when you first saw him, but he quickly reasured you that that wasn't the case!!

He always felt a little bad for that ever since

And only showing up when you were sick didn't make things much better...

So after a while, he decided to hang around you during normal times too

You guys become fast friends, and you appreciate his good sense of humor!

Also, you especially appreciate his help when you're sick as an adult and off on your own

He's practically your personal nurse!

Plus, anything that gets you a fever, he can kind of treat for you, actually 👀

While he himself doesn't have any healing powers, he likes to fan you with one of his wings

His wings are smaller then most, so he's worried they won't do much to help you

But that's completely untrue!

The breeze coming off his feathers has the same magical properties as anyone else's :)

You feel a cooling sensation almost immediately, and your fever is sure to break soon enough

#Guardian Angel AU #. i made myself cry again with this one 💀💀😭#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #comfort

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levisnackajack · 4 years ago

Text

The Wrath of War

Chapter Seventeen

“We’ll get through this,” Eren had said, pulling his friends into a tight, group hug. Eden nodded, the muffled voices around her slowly slowly becoming sharper and clearer.

Where was she?

“You, Mikasa, Eden and I. We’ll join the Scout Regiment and fight for the sea. We’ll fight for the taste of freedom. And then when that day comes, we’ll sit together and reminisce about all the tough times we’ve gone through just to get to that moment,” Armin replied softly as they pulled away.

Each child had a flame in their eyes. Two pairs of crystal blue eyes, a duo of onyx jewels as well as another pair of honey-colored eyes that glinted with a shade of emerald. After the horrors they had witnessed that day in Shiganshina; the deaths that had cracked through each crevice of their bones; they had vowed to fight until death grabbed their hand.

Eden felt drowsy as the world around her slowed down and the faces of her friends grew blurry. She looked around to see the atmosphere change, those distant voices that rang at the back of her mind growing more realistic.

“Hey, Eden, I brought you an apple. Well, honestly, Connie made me give it up. I actually really wanted to eat that apple...-”

Slap

“Ouch, sorry. Scratch that, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just joking, hehe,” Sasha rambled on, rubbing her arm as she rolled her eyes at Connie’s irked stare.

Velveteen lashes fluttered opened gradually; the immediate light burning her pupils. Eden hissed, shutting her eyes once more as she came to her senses at a dreadfully slow pace. She caught sight of the familiar layout vividly resembling the medical quarters situated at their base.

Two light gasps bounced through the air. Her bed shifted under moving weight and once she took a deep breath; Eden managed to open one eye.

Sasha and Connie stared at her through comically wide eyes. The girl blinked slowly at them, raising a weak hand to touch her pounding temple.

“What...happened?”

The duo exchanged glances and Sasha swallowed thickly. Connie bounced on his heels before clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck.

“You got severely injured on the battlefield. Safe to say, you were this close to being squeezed to death,” Connie pinched his fingers together, indicating the lack of space between his index and his thumb finger. “You’ve been out cold for the past couple of days, on IV’s and stuff, I don’t know.”

Eden tried sitting up, but the weight of her tattered body pleaded her to remain still. “What do you mean I’ve been ‘out cold for the past couple of days’? What about Armin? He was with me, is he okay? And the rest, where are they?” The words trickled out through her lips like a mellow waterfall.

Sasha sent her a wary smile, placing her hand over hers against the warm blanket. “Everyone from our team is healthy and safe. Unfortunately, we can’t say the same about Hange’s squad. She lost a couple of her comrades during the battle.” She lowered her eyes as she spoke, bottom lip quivering.

Eden let go of a slow sigh, the movement causing her lungs to burn up and swell against her heart. She palmed the fabric of her blanket in between her fingers. “Shit. Was the mission a failure then? Did we manage to secure the sighting hotspot?”

Both of her comrade-friends shook their heads glumly. Connie spoke up.

“We came back to help Hange’s team after seeing that separation would only make things worse. Captain Levi shot the final flare at the sight of literally a dozen titans heading our way. We just didn’t have enough manpower to push through all of them; especially since your team was already completely ambushed. No one expected it to be that bad...”

Eden stayed silent as she tried to process his words. Her brain racked against her skull as she thought about all the pain and suffering her fallen comrades had experienced right before their lives were ripped out of their bodies by the vile, humanoid creatures. It made her blood boil and her lip quiver.

“How did you manage to pull me out of the titan’s grasp? I can’t remember much except how peaceful I began feeling when I finally closed my eyes...I thought I was dead...”

“We’re so happy you’re not, Eden. What happened was...-”

“Excuse me, leave the poor girl to rest,” the familiar voice of the assigned nurse made her two friends jump out of their skin. She ushered them both out in an irritated voice before walking back to Eden.

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong with me? When can I join my team back on the field...-”

“Not anytime soon, dear. You should be grateful you’re not currently six-feet under. Your lungs collapsed due to the pressure, so you’ll be sticking to bedrest for the time being until it gets better. Don’t look at me like that, I told you, it could’ve been worse. There was some internal bleeding that we stopped once you arrived, what else...ah yes, you’re lucky...this time, you managed to fracture just two ribs!” The nurse told her, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she spoke.

Eden refrained from the need to roll her eyes at her and involuntarily winced instead at the sudden pains in her chest. The medic assured her that this would happen often until her internal organs heal with the help of medication, rest and the will to live.

Deep down, through all the trauma her body underwent that day; Eden’s mind was fixed on one tiny thought that seemed to devour her entire soul; would Captain Levi come and visit her?

The day’s hours quickly trickled by as Eden spent it dealing with constant visits, naps and by sulking and glaring at the ceiling. She begged the nurse to give her something to numb the pain; but the older woman had assured her that she will do so after dinner.

Eden didn’t even have enough energy to snap back at her.

The sun began settling, bringing in a warm, orange shade into the infirmary. The rays grazed against Eden’s blanket, caressing her skin softly as her body began to ache. Mikasa had just left, bidding her a good night after helping Eden bathe.

The injured girl felt like such a nuisance and begged her friend multiple times to leave, stating she could manage on her own. But Mikasa being Mikasa; never left her side. Her nurse finally injected her with a large dose of painkillers, assuring her that they would stop the pain for at least a couple of long hours. She had also told her that they would make her feel sleepy and droopy. Eden merely nodded and thanked her for the medication.

Now, tightly wrapped up in her warm duvet, the charcoal-haired girl counted the each clock tick; completely bored out of her mind. She didn’t feel like the medicine had kicked in yet; but the nurse had reassured her that it could take some time for them to kick in and knock her out. Her eye twitched at the sound of the door gently opening.

A tender smile crept up on her face as he made his way towards her bed.

“Hi, Jeanie-boy,” she greeted him softly, tilting her head towards him against the pillow.

His expression was strained and that remained intact when he sent her a smile, pulling her hand into his. “Hi, darling. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better, but I’ll manage. Can’t get rid of me that quickly now, can you?”

He let go of a gentle huff, his thumb rubbing circles against her soft skin. Eden bit her lip, brows lacing together slightly. He remained silent, staring down at their interlinked fingers.

“Something is wrong. Talk to me,” she urged him gently, squeezing his hand with her palm.

Jean pursed his lips tightly; clenching his jaw tightly as contemplation painted against his tense face. “Do you remember what happened...that day?”

Eden’s own expression grew more rigid as she tried her best to call back any memories she had. She released an exasperated sigh, sinking deeper into the pillow.

“I’m sorry Jean. I really can’t remember much. My horse threw me off the saddle; Armin came back for me...we ran towards the horses and then a titan just grabbed me. That’s all I recall.”

Jean bit his lip before running a hand across his face; shifting against her mattress. She watched him silently, afraid that if she pushed him; he’d snap at her. And she wanted Jean to open up on his own terms.

“I feel like I can’t really do this anymore, Eden.”

Her almond eyes grew larger, lips parting in wonder. “Can’t do what, Jean? What’s going on?”

The boy only shook his head in response, eyes betraying how deep in thought he was. Eden’s heart clenched uneasily.

“I can’t just share you. It’s not right and I don’t feel good knowing I can’t have you all to myself.”

His confession hung in the air heavily. Jean watched her carefully as she tried understanding his words. But, to no avail.

“I-I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, “You’ll understand what I’m telling you on your own terms. I’m sorry it has to go down this way. You mean so much to me, Chiasa. And I can fully understand the situation you’re in right now. The confusion and all. I’ve been in that position. Which is why I’m trying to help you make things easier- even if nothing makes sense to you right now.”

Eden placed her other hand over his, grazing the skin on the back of his palm reassuringly. She listened intently to each word; feeling her heart crack just a little bit.

“I don’t want to lose you, Jean.”

The boy made a face, leaning in closer towards the resting girl. “Psh, who said anything about losing anyone? There’s no way in hell you’ll lose me, Eden; you can trust me on that. Otherwise, you can write a letter to my mother and tell her how embarrassed I was when she sent me that stuffed plush bear and you were the one who caught me with it.”

The memory made Eden laugh, her eyes crinkling at the edges as Jean’s own brown eyes twinkled down at her.

“That’s a deal.”

Jean leaned in closer, pressing his warm, plush lips against Eden’s forehead. She closed her eyes, taking in his scent that seemingly overwhelmed her entirely. Everything with him was so cozy, definite and practically perfect. It was such a stark juxtaposition to the feelings the man with steely, blank eyes sparked within her.

“But, just because I’ve decided to let you go now, does not mean I will not keep trying,” he muttered when pulling away. Eden sent him a toothy grin that was masked with a layer of grimness once her question slammed against her brain.

“Can you tell me what happened after I blacked out?”

Jean’s eyes darkened as he looked down at their hands. He gritted his teeth, craning his neck to the side before meeting her curious gaze.

“I...I was the one who saved you.” He hesitated for a moment, but continued nevertheless. “When all went to shit and the Captain shot the terminated mission flare; I made my way back to you. I don’t know what it was, but I just knew that something was wrong. I found Armin charging at the bastard that had grabbed you, aiming for its wrist tendon but...I managed to slice its nape seconds before you were going to land in its mouth. It was a miracle, really. If I was even a millisecond late; you would have...died.”

Eden felt like the air was knocked out of her bruised lungs. She looked away, realization creeping down her spine as she thought back to how close she was to death. Only to be saved and gifted with another chance at life. She suppressed a yawn, her lids growing heavier.

Jean released an empty, humorless laugh; shaking his head at the memories that flashed before his eyes. “And then, when I got to you...you said his name.” He stood abruptly, gently laying Eden’s hand back against the softness of the duvet as she watched him sleepily; her mind overpowered by the drug previously injected into her bloodstream to tend to the pains.

She was drowning in so many questions, but felt like she didn’t have enough time to answer them for herself. She called for Jean gently; earning a sweet, supple smile from the boy as he gazed down at her. His head snapped towards the entrance and immediately, his expression contorted into one filled with deep-rooted vexation.

“Out of everyone within the walls; why him?” Jean muttered under his breath- a question devoted more to himself rather than the dazed girl on the brink of slumber. He bid her a good night and went his separate way.

Eden groaned in response, her lids completely slipping shut by the time the sound of approaching boots had reached her ears.

Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @hadassackerman

Thank you for all the support!! xx

Link to the story in AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

18 notes · View notes

nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine: PRT THREE.

Reader gets a surprise visit from nasty Erik.

This was requested for another part. May be the final part because I didn’t plan for this lol. Wrote this today.

Part One. Part Two.

You had a certain pep in your step that didn’t go unnoticed. Heading towards your Micro Biology classs, books in hand and a blush on your face, you try and discreetly enter the classroom only to find eyes on you. Head down, you pull your hoodie further over your head, sitting down slowly so you wouldn’t gain anymore attention.l

Erik put it on your pussy last night. You ended up spending the night and fucking another two times after the first. After each hard fuck this man’s fat dick would just plump up and harden with the tiniest look in your direction. He loved the way you looked dressed in his large t shirt with your curly hair pulled back from your face. He would kiss your cheeks and stroke it with his thumb lightly, causing you to bite your lip and blush profusely.

He knew what he was doing to you. He was your new addiction and it had only been one night of him. As you open your laptop to begin typing, the vision of him burrowing deep inside of you with your legs over his shoulders had you rubbing your hands over your face. Your shoulders begin to bounce with excitement as you laugh, still perplexed that you even opened your legs and gave your tight pussy away to a 30 year old man.

A hung, freaky, pro of an older man.

“Miss Y/N?”

You hadn’t noticed that your Professor had been calling you the entire time.

“Your research paper, please?”

Your heart sank.

Fuck. You forgot to grab your written paper from your desk within your dorm this morning when you came back around 6:00 am. Brandy, your room mate and close friend, was knocked out on her bed, snoring and all. Brandy didn’t have an 8:00 am class like you did. And to top it all off your paper was also on a flash drive you forgot to bring to class.

“I’m so so sorry, I-“ you shake your head with disappointment in yourself. So much for a 100%

“I forgot to grab it from my desk this morning. I didn’t wake up to the alarm.”

Your professor nodded his head slowly, “Okay, you know how I feel about late assignments, correct? That will be a five point deduction from your grade, Miss Y/N.”

Your professor left it at that, returning back to the discussion about virology and parasitology.

“You know, this shit ain’t really like you, Y/N.”

That deep voice made you laugh. Your assigned partner and school friend, Lakeith, has to have something to say about everything you do.

“Lakeith, mind your business for once, please.” You sass in a hushed tone.

“I would if I wasn’t enjoying the fall of a supposed future Nurse Practitioner.”

With a death glare, you turn to him, his chestnut eyes always a hypnotic thing for you. Then he decides to smile, showing off his dimples.

They weren’t deep like Erik’s but they were still something.

“I got my shit on lock, Sir, worry about scoring higher than me on the TEAS, Mr. Future RN.”

“Baby girl,” he chuckles low, “My shit always on lock. Coming up in here like you just left a dick appointment.”

Your heart flutters. Was it that obvious? I mean, the dick appointment was hours ago but damn it was still written all over your face. You decided not to respond to that portion. He didn’t need to know.

“So, somebody hitting that and you down played every chance I offered? Wow.” He laughs to himself, leaning in towards you, practically all up in your grill.

“You getting some dick, Y/N?” He smiles, his shiny teeth almost blinding. Damn him for being this fine.

“Why are you checking for me so much?” You roll your eyes into your head.

“I’ve been checking for you. Don’t act brand new because you let some other nigga wow you.”

He smelled like cinnamon. Lakeith always smelled good.

But Erik smells like sandalwood and citrus.

Even Erik’s sweat smelled like cologne. The thought of him had you shivering down the spine, you focus your attention back on your typing.

“Yeah, you got a noticeable arch in your back that wasn’t there before.”

You heard a chuckle from Lakeith’s partner in crime, Marvin. Both of them, two Kappa brothers that joked like teenagers.

“Fuck you.” You fire back, flipping him off, “sit on it and spin, nigga.”

“Yeah, okay,” He puts a base in his voice, “I’ll have your little ass sitting and spinning on something if you keep playing with me, big headed ass.”

“You started with me!” You argue back, trying your best to keep your voice low.

“Whatever,” he shoves your head, “do some damn work.”

Kissing your teeth, you throw your led pencil at his head, watching him scrunch his face with discomfort, rubbing the spot that stung.

“Bitch ass,” you end the argument there, cracking your knuckles to get back into the grind. Lakeith wasn’t about to fuck up your A average.

How about Erik and his big Daddy dick fucking you? Remember, he said you can come see Daddy anytime you wanted some dick.

You press down over a series of keys, typing out something like dmcbcdjendh.

———————————-

“And again, this tutoring shit will not help me get through Calculus I. I don’t need some student tryna teach me.”

You ball up the flyer that your calculus teacher gave you for tutoring help. Tossing it in the recycle can, you march out of her office, fuming with fists balled and cheeks puffed out. Yes, you were a straight A student but the last calculus exam you took you received a 79 on it. That had you crying into a bowl of cookies and cream ice cream. Now, she was offering you tutoring yet again. The students who tutored acted so self righteous. She didn’t need for any them laughing at her behind her back or hounding her because they had the upper hand at the moment.

“Y/N!” Your young, chipper, Calculus teacher called out to you. She reminded you of Daria but less moody and socially awkward.

“Yes?” The annoyance in your voice was clear.

“Would you like another referral? There is a guy on campus who is here as a Graduate Student receiving his Doctorate. I graduated with him and he’s basically a genius. If you want, I can set you up over the next few weeks to meet with him during library time.”

Another teacher? Maybe this would help. She lectured crappy and it had you zoning out every few seconds. You had to result in teaching yourself.

“What’s his name?”

She motions for you to re enter her office. Closing the door behind her, you take your once vacated seat, staring at her accomplishments from M.I.T.

“His name is Erik Stevens. He is back getting his Doctorate in Engineering.”

Your Calculus professor handed you his business card. It was laminated, perfect watermark and everything. She didn’t understand the pure shock on your face. How could you forget that name after you moaned it and imprinted it within the hippocampus of your brain.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked with a slight smirk on her face. You must have looked crazy.

“No!!” You take the card, placing it in your hoodie pocket, “No, I just thought of something out of nowhere. You know how that happens sometimes.”

“Yeah,” she laughs it off awkwardly, “Give him a shot, Y/N. He’s really good at what he does.”

“Mhm,” you felt a sudden wetness in your panties. He sure as hell is good at what he does. Even your own teacher recommending him to you had you horny as a bitch.

This fucking man.

“I’ll give him a call today.” You look up at your teacher one last time before grabbing your bag, exiting her office.

//////////////

Erik: Call me and put that pussy on the phone, lol. I wanna hear her talk to me cuz I know she wet as a motherfucker.

You bite on your thumbnail while sitting in one of the study rooms within the Library. You were surrounded by Lakeith and a few other Micro Biology class mates to study for the next exam. You didn’t inform Erik about him tutoring you yet because you wanted to drive over to his apartment and tell him in person.

Y/N: It is wet, but I’m in study group right now I can’t show you. 😩

You were NEVER this damn bold with a guy.

“Y/N, you’re supposed to be the one writing on the white board what the fuck you doing?” Lakeith startles you from your sexting.

“Shit, my bad,” you stand up, grabbing your phone and expo marker. The group began telling you information to write out, your mind in tune with education. After applying the top to your marker, you hear a soft knock on the door as if knuckles were tapping it. Craning your neck, you make out the outline of a guy around 6’3, new balance on his feet and a navy blue Champions sweatshirt with matching pants. He had a black North Face beanie on his head, with an artistic pair of gold rimmed glasses on.

At first glance you didn’t recognize him but the moment you stepped closer to the door to open it, a deep pleasure ran through your veins like lava. With a sly smirk on his face, he leans into the door further, staring down at you while curling a single finger for you to come here. He bit down on his bottom lip the moment you were staring at him face to face, the only barrier between you both was the door. He jiggles the door knob, motioning with a tilt of his head for you to open it before he did. Sighing nervously, you open the door, his body smelling like testosterone and patchouli. The thought of the pheromones he produced after sex had you buckling at the knees.

“You in here studying?” He asks with a whisper.

You knew eyes were on you at that door.

“Yes, Biology.” You respond, but not with a whisper. You didn’t need any of them wondering why you were being secretive.

“What kind?” He asks with a tilt of his head, his finger discreetly stroking your hand. You pause to breathe, shifting on your feet.

“Micro.” You meet his gaze, blinking away as soon as you saw the heavy lust there. Why did he have to bring his fine ass over here? Clearly he was in the library the entire time. He did say he’d been watching you around campus and he wanted your thick ass for a long while. So maybe he was watching you study with friends?

“Were you keeping an eye on me, Erik?” You smirk.

“That’s all I can keep on you for now, ma. Ain’t like I can keep this dick on you while you in front of your friends.”

Erik looks over your shoulder. His eyes fell on Lakeiths. He knew from that moment that homeboy wanted you. It was all over that niggas face.

“Let me help I know a lot about Micro Biology.”

Erik wasn’t asking really because he pushes past you, fully within the room. You shutter slightly before closing the door, taking in calming breaths.

“Can we help you?” Lakeith speaks for the group like he was the leader.

“Nah, looks like y’all need it though,” Erik takes it upon himself to spread your notes out on the desk, craning his eyes behind his glasses to read what you had. He takes his other hand, stroking his gotee before turning to the white board.

“Y’all sure y’all know how to study for this?” He asks with a joking tone. Lakeith and Marvin share a look before turning back to Erik.

“Yeah, we got this, bruh. You looking at the top students in the class.”

Erik nods his head slowly, “How about you, Y/N? He speaking for you like he know you smart.”

Lakeith laughs, “we work close together all the time. I know she got it going on.”

Erik lifts a single brow, taking your notes to stack neatly, “Y/N, this nigga always speak for you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, staring from Erik to Lakeith. There was clearly a weighing of dicks in this room but Erik would come out on top for sure, gold metal and all.

“Not always, but he has a habit to sometimes,” you hide your smile, focusing back to the white board.

“Y/N,” Erik calls for you. He had the right to do that you felt. He opened your pussy up and ate your pussy like a bowl of ice cream, licking his fingers and all. He could call you and you would answer.

“Yes?” You turn to him, giving him your undivided attention.

“You want me to help you study? I can do that right now I got time before my evening class starts,” he places his hands in his pants pockets, waiting for your answer. You both knew you would say yes, and you didn’t hesitate either. This could lead to what you needed.

“Okay, sure,” you try and pack your things but Erik was already on it, zipping up your back pack and throwing it over his shoulder. He walks to the door, opening it for you to leave first.

“You not gonna say goodbye to your little friends?” He says with a smirk before licking his lips.

“Bye y’all, see you this Wednesday,” you step out of the study room, Erik’s arm around your shoulder. Before you could leave the library, Erik pulls you in between an aisle full of history books, slamming you against the shelf. He pauses, trying to keep the solitude of the library at bay.

“Who is that little nigga?” He asks you with a calm that had you squirming.

“His name is Lakeith.” You respond with a whisper.

His eyes look from your toes and back up to your face. Erik takes off your hood, your messy curly bun frizzy from wearing it all day.

“Damn, you ain’t even fix this after I was all in yo’ shit last night.” He laughs with a deep raspy tone.

“I didn’t have time,” you whine, pouting like a baby.

“Why the fuck are you so cute? He had a slight tendrill of anger building up, you could tell from how his brows furrowed, “why you so damn cute, lil mama? Out here having these weak dick niggas craving you.“

You swallow spit, shrugging your shoulders nervously, “I don’t know.”

“What I tell you about that I don’t know shit?”

You forgot he didn’t like for you to tell him that.

“Sorry.”

“All you gonna do is say the shit again. But it’s cool, I know you remember how this strong dick nigga had you crying.” He was even closer now, breath on your cheek.

“I mean, to be honest, aint like you can do much about being the cutest bitch on campus. Cutest bitch with the tightest pussy.”

You could feel him grabbing your breasts with no restraint. Anybody could spot the both of you. You watch as he unzips your hoodie, the thin t shirt you wore underneath giving him a clear view of your big ass nipples.

“Y/N....shit,” he takes both, pinching your nipples and playfully slapping them.

“Big ass titties.” He kisses your neck on both sides with a little tongue.

“Erik,” you moan out with a shiver.

“I’m the only one allowed to put it on you, you hear me?” He whispers. Erik pulls you from the shelf by the collar of your shirt, palming your ass hard before slapping it.

“Daddy is gon’ be all in your shit girl, you wait and see,” he bit your ear, taking you by your hips to make you grind on him from the front. It was the wildest shit ever. You never did anything like this in public. For the most part it was kissing and ass grabbing but not this.

Erik pulls one of your legs up, his hands on the shelf while he dry humped your crotch.

“Damn, babygirl, that leg all the way up there, huh?” He pulls you with three quick pumps over his clothed and now fully hard dick. You could feel it against your leg and it was long as hell. He had you so open last time...Damn, he was gonna do that shit again.

“Let me stop before I have a big ass nut,” he chuckles, lowering your leg but never moving his hand away from your ass, “girl, when we get back to my place, I swear to God your ass is mine.”

————————————

“You’re so hard, I can feel all of that big dick, Daddy.”

You moan while grinding on his crotch, wet pussy wrapped around his bare dick. The minute you stepped out of his car and entered his apartment, he started undressing you without a word. Now here you were, fully naked and coating his dick with that good sticky shit. Erik has his fingers on your clit, rubbing in a slow circle while he instructed you to keep wetting his dick down to his balls.

Erik places his fingers within his mouth before grabbing your waist, angling you and making you bounce on his dick in rhythm with his grinding. It was an erotic sight to see, legs spread wide, pussy wet, hard dick all slick.

“Fuck, Y/N, got me ready to buss a fucking nut, damn girl!” He slaps your ass, “You ain’t all sweet, your little ass a fucking devil. What kinda sweet girl put a pussy like this on a nigga? Ain’t never heard of that.”

Erik grabs his dick, smacking your pussy with it, “Get on your fucking knees. Go on, ma, get down there.”

You were on your knees now, grabbing his dick with one hand, licking yourself off of him.

Damn this girl.

“Y/N, don’t be shy girl, c’mon, lil mama,” Erik motions for you to take him more, “open up...yesss, just like that. Mhm, good girllll.”

You gag on him. He was just so big. You had to stop and look at his dick like it was from another world. He laughs at your tear stained face and swollen lips. The spit on your chin he had a lot of fun with it seems, smearing it in with his fingers.

“I ain’t say you were done,” he jerks his dick, smacking you in the chin, “let’s go, ma, dick ain’t gonna suck itself.”

You grab him up, sucking him again. This time, he was fatter than before. What the hell was this! Your pussy was leaking, no lie. You could feel it on your thighs. Fuck if you weren’t sucking his dick. Erik rolled his eyes, head falling back when your tongue snaked up his dick.

“And you was tryna play scared?! Shit,” he shakes his head, “scared of what Y/N? You ain’t afraid of all this big dick.”

Erik grabs your hair, fucking into your mouth. You grab his thighs, eyes on him while he fucks your mouth.

“Damn, I’m balls deep in your mouth.” He grunts, pushing one final time before releasing your mouth, a thick stream of spit caught on your lips.

“Sloppy mouth bitch.” He slaps you with his dick. You were so astonished. He just hit you with his dick.

“Fuck. Me,” he looked from his dick to your wet face, “Come ride Daddy.”

You climb up, watching him apply a condom again. You pout with sadness, looking down at him roll the condom over all that spit on his dick. The vision was covered and it had you rolling your eyes.

“Fuck you doing all that for?” He caught that shit.

“If you fuck me raw I won’t act like this,” you speak in a timid tone. Erik licks his lips leaning back to admire you.

“You want some raw dick?”

You nod yes.

“Ard...take the condom off then.”

Quickly, you snatch it off, throwing it to the ground.

“Like I said, a slut for this dick,” he pulls you over him, “Get up here and fuck me since you want it raw. Fuck this dick like you tryna mold my shit in that little kitty.”

You squat over him on your tip toes, rubbing his dick over your clit a bit before lowering over him. He slaps your ass extremely hard, the connection complete and your lips in a full pout now.

“Yeah, thats my fucking girl, such a good little girl. Making that face I like, that dumb struck face with all this dick in you balls deep, fuck.”

You start bouncing, hands on his shoulders and head thrown back.

“Ohmygodddd ohmygoddddd.”

He was really hitting different. It was so much pressure you were sure to squirt. The dick was knocking on your walls for a squirt in return. Damn, his big dick was all the way in there. Shit didn’t make no sense.

“You hear all that?” He speaks to you but you were dickmatized, “you are splashing on me, girl! What the fuck!” You sure were. You could hear it loud and clear.

“Yes I am, oh my Godddd,” you gasp.

“Yes I am, Daddy. I’m so wet, Daddy.”

“You taking this big dick girl, it’s okay for me to keep fucking you like this? Fuck, Y/N this pretty pussy so wet.”

His hands were everywhere. He was low on the couch, hips pumping up into you with his eyes low and on your face. You were in an eye lock with him and it made the moment even better.

“Never thought you would be bouncing on this dick did you?” You both shake your heads at the same time, “I already know I just wanted you to agree with me, sexy bitch.”

You watch as he presses his hand into your back, lifting your leg with the other hand, pounding into you, beating your shit in.

“Damn, ma, I got you looking possessed,” he says all of this while fucking you deeper, flesh smacking louder, “mhmmm, this cool? Huh? Daddy hitting that spot, right?”

You were in no shape to speak. This man had a tight grip on your leg while he beat the brakes off your pussy.

“Shit better than the first time? You getting all of me girl ain’t no holding back. You want this raw dick you taking it like a big girl.” He slows down, making you feel every inch. It was literal murder.

“You a big girl,” he looks down at the way his dick was fucking you, “big girl when you getting this pussy fucked.”

“Fuck, yes.” You moan out. You’d be a big girl and take anything. This man had you wide open.

Damn, hold up, shit,” Erik slips out, arching you over the couch now. He used your shoulders, pushing you down so your face was pressed into the cushions. Your ass was pointed so far up, pussy spread wide for him to slip inside with ease. Your pussy was already wet anyway so he would be in that shit with no problem real soon.

“Throw this phat ass back on me.”

You move with as much energy as you could force. He had you tired. You move your hips seductively while throwing it back, your eyes on him to watch his every reaction. You watched him take in a deep breath, several to be exact, trying his best to control the urge to cum.

“This little pussy finna make me buss.”

You were about to buss from the way his head stroked your sweet spot.

“Ahh, I’m about to cum, Daddy,” you grab the back of the couch, legs shaking and cum spilling out like warm sugar.

“Pussy so sweet, Y/N,” he grabs your hips, taking control now while drilling you. The change of pace had your mouth wide open and eyes glossy from the pressure.

“Damn, you really in there!” You yell, back muscles flexing from the intense feeling. This man was stirring your guts around like a bowl of noodles.

“You putting it on me Daddy I don’t wanna stop!!!” You yell with literal tears in your eyes. You were being completely honest. You didn’t want him to ever stop. You wanted him to keep going and going.

“Putting it on this tight pussy?” He asks with a smirk, “This my tight pussy, you hear me? My tight pussy, little mama.”

“Yes, it’s for you!” You couldn’t believe it, you were cumming again, “DADDY MY PUSSY!!!”

The way you reacted to him had his balls tight and dick rippling, ready to cum.

“Best believe little girl I’m taking. this. SHIT.” He started fucking then stoping, fucking then stopping, like a pattern of torture. Your body would jerk forward in surprise, and then he would stop for about three seconds leaving your clit a throbbing mess. Each time he started back up you would gasp, the surprise of it leaving you motionless and breathless.

“Mhm,” he stops, slapping your ass, “Mhm.”

You reach back, hoping for him to grab your wrists. When he does, you prepare for the pounding of your life. Arching more, you feel him increase momentum, eyes growing lower and lower each time. He had you hooked. That’s it. You were fucking Erik Stevens from now on.

“How you feel about me bussing this pussy open?” He says in a breathless tone.

“I feel so good, Daddy.”

/////////////////////

You watch as he sucks on your nipples, your shirt lifted over your head. You just got out of the shower, your legs weak. He had you against his front door, wet hair all over your face and chest arched forward into his mouth. You cry and do it loudly like a whiny brat, his tongue flicking your nipples in the best way.

“Daddy...stop...” you push at him weakly.

He starts sucking like a damn baby and you extend your head back, hitting the door with a loud thud.

“Chill out,” you say between breathless moans. He was a damn animal for you.

“Daddy, what the fuck,” you rub your thighs together, “ooo...stop,”

He doesn’t say a word as he tongues and sucks on your titties. Nipple play never aroused you this much. Erik was a man of firsts for you. How was it that you could feel your pussy throb and drip from this? His eyes meet yours while he flicks his tongue over your right nipple. Damn, he was a fine motherfucker with a mouth you wanted to sit on. Imagine having a tongue like that slipping from front to back and side to side in your slit.

“Daddy eat my pussy,” you ask with no regard.

“Suck on that pussy?” He lifts with spit on his chin, “If I eat it you ain’t going no where for the night cuz im only gonna fuck you again.”

“So?” You sass, “plus, I’m gonna be here more often anyway. My calculus teacher recommended me to you for tutoring.”

He looks at you with dark eyes of lust while twirling your nipples, “Damn, forreal?”

“Yeah, I figured you could reward me with more dick if I do well.”

“Yeah, I can do that. But that means you gotta do well though.”

You kiss your teeth, “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

“Put that bag down and undress. Squat over the couch with that pussy sitting over the edge, okay?” He said it so casually, his naked chest looking edible.

“Okay,” you put your bag down, undressing again. You know you looked a mess but he didn’t care about that shit. Walking to the couch, you watch him as he takes a hit from his blunt. You get into position, arching with your legs wide and pussy sitting for his mouth. Erik admires you while blowing smoke from his lips, walking over to you and getting on his knees.

“You gon pop that ass and pussy while I eat your juicy shit from the back?”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“Good.”

You could feel him turning around, his arms up and on your ass, spreading you wide. You feel his lips kissing your pussy, eyes closing with bliss. He tongues your folds apart, his tongue dancing with your nectar. He slobs, then slurps, slobs, then slurps, a continuous pattern. Each time you would flinch, your clit jumping each time he did it. Fuck if you would get your pussy ate from someone else. He knew your pussy like the back of his hand. His tongue started flicking upward, only the tip of it teasing your clit and inner folds. It moved all over, Erik working that thing. You claw at the couch, turning your head no matter how painful to try and watch how he did that. This man was full of surprises.

“Daddy, how you doing that?” You ask with a sweet tone. He responds with a sloppy kiss to your clit. You fall against him, giving in to his dance.

“Fuck, Daddy.” You start popping your ass, the feeling of his gold slugs making you shiver. Shit, he was making you cum. Already this man was making you squirt. You were overwhelmed.

“SHIT,” you shake, pussy squirting in his mouth. He applauds you with a slap to the ass before going back to work. Now your clit was overworked and sensitive. The more he slobs the more you cum. And just like that, you were creaming.

“Oh, fuck yeahhhhh.” You talk into the couch cushion beneath you.

“My dick hard again. I told you.” He stands, dick ready to rip through his sweats.

You could hear your phone ringing, sure that it was Brandy but all that didn’t matter, Erik had you up in the air. You could see yourself in his mirrors that he had on his living room wall over his TV. You were so small compared to him. He’s taller, extremely taller, and so toned and cut, not one part of his body was covered with fat. He looked into that mirror too, eyes on you at times but also on the way he held you up like you were as light as an infant, bringing you down over his dick. Each time you both connected he would look back at you to catch your reaction. It didn’t matter how this man fucked you, it was great each time.

Erik walks over to the mirror while he still bounced you, turning sideways now, those full lips of his pouty and his eyes low and hazy.

“Creaming on me something serious,” he rewards you for that buy fucking up into you quickly. Your toes curl, hands around the back of his neck squeezing.

“Y/N, damn,” he scrunches his face, hands palming your ass to keep you up and open for him, “Baby girl, look at me.”

You look at him, moans stuck in your throat.

“Why you letting me take this pussy like this? You not afraid to fall for a nigga?”

You were already falling. It was only day two. He knew what he was doing. He played the game well.

“You not afraid to fall for me?” You catch your breath, “you’re not afraid to get pussy whipped by a girl like me? A little mama?”

“Nah, ma,” Erik shakes his head with a smirk, “not at all.”

You blush, your pussy gushing further over him. He may be your fuck buddy now but the thought of him being more excited you. He made you forget about your ex. Erik was the man of your dreams now a reality.

“Shit, I’m about to have a big fuck nut!!!” You watch as he fucks you at full throttle, body bouncing, wet pussy sliding, moans and groans loud for the entire apartment complex to hear.

“Fuck, girl!!!!” Erik slips out, resting you on the floor while cumming on your face and titties. You catch as much as you could and scrape up the rest to put on your tongue. Erik watched you with primal eyes, his sweat dripping on you. The sweat that smelled like citrus and patchouli. While you tasted and swallowed his cum you wished he would cum in you. You know why but damn his dick was good that’s where you wanted it next! You could only beg for it honestly.

“Ard, ma, time to get up we got some studying to do.” He picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You watch him pick up your back pack Erik walking you back to his bedroom. How were you going to study and get through the semester with Erik’s dick in you at any given opportunity? This was going to be tough. Erik drops you on the bed, your body bouncing. As you sit up and fold your legs, Erik opens you bag while his blunt rested between his lips, pulling all of your things out that you needed.

“I’m serious about this studying, shorty. Education is important. You want me to help you out you gotta pay attention to everything I tell your little ass, Aight?”

“Okay, whatever you say, Erik.” You pull your hair up into a top knot bun.

“Gotta work hard for what you want,” he looks at you, a smirk growing on his face, “you hear me talking to you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Daddy Erik when I’m in that puss, professor Erik when we hitting these books,” he takes a puff of his weed, “you smoke?”

You take the blunt without answering, smoking a little.

“Aight, what you get on your calculus exam?”

You felt embarrassed to say. You knew he would frown at you if you told him what it was.

“I’m an A average student, Erik.” You try and ease away from answering his question. His eyes were on you like he was ready to fuck you yet again.

“Ma,” he shakes his head, “just tell me. What you get?”

“A fucking 79.”

“You can do better but that’s better than shit I’ve seen. Stop beating yourself up, Y/N.”

His words had you dripping on his bed. You bounce, titties jumping and a seductive smile on your face. Your eyes focus on him, his still hard dick pointed to your mouth. He bites the corner of his lip, eyes peeking at the way your big ass titties looked bouncing. With a shake of his head and closed eyes, Erik grabs you by the chin, making you look up at him. He opens his eyes real slow, trapping you.

“Just suck my dick again, ma. You did that shit right the first time. I like the way you look chocking on my stick.”

Yep, this was going to be difficult.

@dameshaemonique @sheisexcellent1 @blktinkerbell

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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hyunjilicious · 5 years ago

Note

Reader is terrified of doctors but Jackson had been their doctor forever and the only one to calm then down /prep them when they need surgery

Ok, so i wanted to this right, but i didn’t know what condition the reader could have so that she’d need to come see him so much, so i just wrote the part where he is always there for her :) i really hope you don’t mind and that you’ll still enjoy this! Thank for the request!

"Yeah, mom" you sighed, "Yes, I will... Yes, yeah, I know, I will call- I love- I love you too, mom, yeah, ok. Ok, bye- yes, I will, ok. Mom, I got, ok? Relax, thank you, I love you too. Bye"

Just how much of your conversations with your mom worked over the phone. As if it wasn't enough that she was worried about you even when you were already at home, hearing that you called an ambulance and were rushed to the hospital, she almost lost it entirely. After finishing high school, you moved to different state, so your relationship with her was mostly telephone-based, so you couldn't really blame her. At the beginning, you'd call her a couple of times a day, complaining about mundane stuff or getting all excited over the most insignificant things, but you didn't have anyone else to call. Not only did she understand, but she also enjoyed being up to date with whatever it was you were up to. The first, and the best, even to this day, friend you had made in Seattle was Jackson. He introduced you to Dr. Shepard years ago, and has been by your side whenever you needed him.

Following a bad car accident that took place years ago, you underwent a number of brain surgeries, but in the end, the prognostic was good. They mentioned that you might lose your motor skills on the right side of your lower body, but until this morning, you showed no signs. However, while making coffee, as you tried to turn around and place your mug on the counter, your left leg gave in entirely, causing you to fall onto the ground. The mug shattered into a few big pieces which got lodged in your palm, as you fell right on top of them. It wasn't the puddle of blood on the floor that freaked you out, but that feeling you got when you couldn't control your legs leg anymore. That was what prompted you to call the ambulance.

On your way to the hospital, your motor skills returned and you felt ready to stop at anytime, get off, and head back home. It wasn't that you actually thought you were fine, you hated hospitals. With all your heart. The more time you spent at Grey Sloan, the sicker to your stomach you felt.

By the time you got to your assigned bed in the ER, Jackson had already appeared beside you.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked concerned, gently grabbing your wrist and turning your arm around, so he could take a better look at the bandages the paramedics wrapped around your wound.

"Hi" you mocked, shaking your head as he completely failed to greet you.

"Hello, Y/n" he said back, smiling as if he had done you a favor, "What happened?"

"It's not the hand" you sighed, getting more comfortable in your bed. You rolled your eyes and corrected yourself, "I mean it's the hand too, but that's not why I came here"

He looked at you knowingly, that was how you always acted. Everything medical has always scared the life out of you. "Tell me?"

"It's my leg"

"What about your leg?" he asked, all of a sudden concerned. He probably didn't think something bad had happened, most likely, in his head, there were just the cuts on your arm, and the rest of the story was you being paranoid. However, the tremor in your voice proved him wrong.

"I couldn't move it, or feel it" you admitted, "It lasted for about a couple of minutes, that's how I fell"

At one point, as you talked, Jackson spun around in his chair and ask a nurse to call for "A neuro consult"

"Fuck, tell me it's Amelia" you whined, hands already getting shaky.

"Ok, relax" Jackson cooed, gently pushing you back as you didn't even realize you were beginning to stand up, "I'll take care of your hand, and in case Koracick shows up I'll send him on his way, ok?"

"Thanks" you nodded, and he stood up. First, he leaned in to kiss the top of your head and then walked all the way to the other side of the room, bringing a kit to take care of your cuts.

Somehow, you weren't scared. Somehow, Jackson managed to be literally the only person to work in a hospital and terrify you.

"So, is this what you do all day?" you asked teasingly, looking as he disinfected your wound once again. It burned, deeply, but you brushed it aside, knowing he would never do anything wrong.

"Not interesting enough for you?" he asked, grinning as he looked up into your eyes.

"Just making conversation" you smiled, shrugging.

"Just tell me what have you been working on" he suggested as he gracefully sutured your cuts.

"Oh well" you sighed, "New year, new students. These are so much worst than the other ones. You'd think I got my PhD to do research but I get so into this teaching thing, that I've completely neglected my project"

"Which is?" Jackson questioned, not raising his eyes from your hand.

"Super symmetry and the flaws we currently accept. I'm trying to be the genius of my generation and explain them"

"Can you?"

"Most likely not" you laughed, "I have no idea what I'm doing"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, you're smart like hell"

"Says he hotshot surgeon" you mocked.

"I never said I wasn't" Jackson defended himself laughing, and just as he prepared to stand, Amelia showed up.

"How's my masterpiece doing?" she asked with a smile.

Your first instinct was to grab something into your hand and squeeze, and much to your surprise, Jackson grabbed your hand into his. He held tight, giving you more reassurance and courage than you could have ever gotten on your own. From what she could check in the ER, everything looked good, so she decided to order a head CT to make sure she wasn't missing anything. A stretcher-bearer walked over and started wheeling you to the CT room.

"I can walk" you said as you felt weird laying down on the bed while Jackson and Amelia walked beside you.

"It's procedure, hun" she smiled, "Don't worry"

Somehow, the schedule for the CT machine got mixed up and overlaid your appointment with the one before you. This way you had about 5 more minutes to wait. While Amelia headed inside, making small talk with the other doctors, you and Jackson waited outside on the hallway.

"Do you think she'll notice if I just run away?"

"Probably" he sighed, amused.

"This is the most awful part. I sit in that oven for 20 minutes and I can literally feel myself get radiated and my neurons die"

"Woah" Jackson gasped, "That was dark"

"I'm sorry"

"No, Y/n, it's ok, I got you" he cooed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "I know this is difficult for you, but I'm here, ok? You get scared or anything, it'll literally take me 10 seconds to get you out of there"

"I guess"

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded against his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

"Come on, look at me" Jackson prompted, "Do you trust me?"

"Yeah" you said shily, having serious difficulty looking into his bright blue eyes. "Have you ever gotten a head CT?"

"No" he answered after he thought about it for a minute, "I'll get one right now though, if it'll make you feel better"

"You don't have to" you laughed, "It's ok"

"Would it make you feel better?"

"No" you shook your head, "My fear is completely irrational. I won't calm down until it's all over"

He watched you in silence for a few seconds, and then spoke up, his voice now happy and quite a bit shy. "How about when it's all over I take you out to dinner?". When you failed to say anything and your eyes grew wide, he continued, "As a date?"

"Are you serious?" you cringed, even if your insides were doing jumping jacks.

He nodded eagerly.

"I'll go out with you as long as my brain is fine, I don't want you to a date a cripple or something"

"Oh my god, Y/n" he gasped, "Stop saying stuff like that, god"

"I'm sorry, it's how I cope"

"I'll tolerate it, this time, because you're anxious about the CT and you're really cute, but don't say shit like that ever again"

"Ok, I'm sorry, I won't"

"Good" Jackson chuckled, pulling you back against him. He kissed your cheek, and when you refused to pull away, he placed another kiss, this one a bit lower, and he kept going until he reached your lips. You didn't get to do that much as just when you were about to start kissing him back, Amelia interrupted the two of you, "You two have got no shame, you're in a hospital!"

#jackson avery fanfic #jackson avery imagine #jackson avery #greys anatomy #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy fanfic

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rainydaysofspring · 5 years ago

Text

My first ever fic on here...

Prompt: She had a bad day and just needed something to make it better. Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Dr. Liliana Summers) Trigger warnings: mentions of death, poorly written medical procedures, Angst and fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

All Liliana wanted was, for this day to be finally over. Ever since she got up this morning in her bedroom, the day has just been getting worse and worse. It seemed like every minute, something went wrong.

It all started with her favorite light blue pair of scrubs, with her name embroidered, getting stained when she spilled her coffee this morning and her, not having enough time on her hands to get changed again. When she left her apartment, she noticed she had forgotten her keys, but of course, after she closed the door. Her only option was to go home with one of her roommates later on or to get there after either Aurora or Sienna went to their flat since both of them had shorter shifts today. The T was hopelessly overcrowded, the guy behind her eyeing her as if she would be a raw slice of meat. If only he knew she had a boyfriend much, much better than him. The thought of Ethan, already at work, made her grumpy state a little bit better, the thought of seeing him in a few minutes even more. She left the train and walked to the hospital, however it started pouring rain the second she stepped off the roofed area. She had the choice between being late and staying dry. If Zaid ever found out, she was late, he would be chewing her out again. So, she took option b: Getting soaked, but being on time.Steeping foot in the atrium of Edenbrook, Liliana was completely drenched in water, her scrubs ruined even more. She somehow got to the locker room without drawing too much attention to her by waiting patients and their families and changed into a fresh and, more importantly, dry pair of scrubs.

Luckily the resident survived rounds, without any further disturbances, so she almost thought her bad day would take a turn for the better. That thought was made way to early, how she noticed later.Liliana saw, that all her regular patients were stable and taken care of, she decided to put in a few hours at the free clinic. The halls were full, as always. When she got to one of the nurses, she assigned a few patients to her, the first one was a nice kid with a high fever. The child's mother also described that the toddler couldn't keep any food down. Liliana quickly diagnosed the girl with the stomach flu and was on her way to the next patient. That's how the hours went by, stepping from one patient to another, nothing majorly dramatic.

But then, her last patient proved again, what this day was: horrible.As Liliana entered the room and introduced herself, she wasn't greeted with the patient telling her what's wrong, instead, he complained about almost everything." I came here three hours ago, I'm an emergency, I need to be taken care of immediately." Liliana tried to reason with him and to explain to him, that their nurses decide who sees a Doctor first based on the severity of the case, not on the time the patients have spent waiting. "Then your nurses are either blind or didn't get proper education! Don't you see that I'm an emergency?" The resident remembered Mr. Platt, the giant PITA she had to treat in her intern year. The man in front of her had a great resemblance to him, in how he spoke to her. When asked, what his symptoms were, her patient just showed her his hand, where she saw a light burn. So much for the emergency, she thought. While treating the injury, the man complained several times more, either about how something the Doctor did wasn't to his liking or how Liliana didn't look like a doctor, more than a nurse. When he brought that up, in combination with the words "hot" and "sexy" she was disappointed that Ethan was not around, his response might have made the patient shut up and learn some respect for the work of both, nurses and doctors. She finally finished his treatment and left the free clinic for today.

Walking up to the diagnostics floor, she thought about Ethan and how she hadn't seen him the whole day long. That fact alone made her mood go down a few inches more. After she checked all of her other patients again, she decided she would visit someone.She eventually made it to the pediatric wing to see on one of her former patients who she formed a bond with, a 9-year old girl named Amelia. Liliana diagnosed her a while ago with cancer, staying with her through her first chemotherapy was certainly the start of a great friendship with the little girl. Anytime she swung by, even just to say hello, a smile formed on the lips of the 9-year-old, she was happy to see her favorite doctor in the hospital. Liliana's main goal was, to cheer her up a bit since hospitals and chemotherapy were certainly scary for a girl that age.She went to her usual room, Number 159, just to find the bed empty. An uneasy feeling crept up her spine on her way to the nurse's station. She asked Lynn, her favorite nurse on the pediatric team, about Amelia and the answer could've made her cry right there, in the middle of the ward."Amelia died last night. She fought so hard, but the cancer was too strong, poor thing." Crushed, Liliana quickly thanked Lynn and excused herself.

She eventually reached the locker room and was relieved, when she found it empty. Enough time to calm down a bit and then finally go home and lay in her bed. The moment she sat down on the bench, her pager went off. "What on earth now? I wanna go home!" she exclaimed. The message on the pager read: "Car Crash, multiple vehicles. All hands on deck." With a groan, Liliana stepped out in the halls again and made her way down the pit. When she arrived, all she found was controlled chaos. Paramedics wheeling new patients in, many of them in critical condition. She sprung into action and commanded her intern, Esme, to do triage, just like she had to last year.

The resident took a patient herself, a woman in her late 30s, with a shard of glass stuck in her abdomen. She was unconscious, intubated, but stable, for the moment. The resident, along with several other doctors begun to treat her, when suddenly, she heard a loud beeping sound echo through the room. Someone yelled "CODE BLUE, CODE BLUE!" ´, while Liliana already sprung into action and began chest compressions on the woman. Another doctor grabbed paddles, in the team they tried to get her heart back to beating.After 62 Minutes of doing CPR and trying to bring the patient back, they gave up. Someone called the dreadful words "Time of Death: 10.17 p.m.” and slowly, the room got emptier until it was just her in there.

The second loss this day hit her hard. Harder, then it should, she knew that herself.She heard the door open but didn't care who entered. Ines' voice spun her out of her trance, slowly getting her back to reality. "Liliana, how long have you been here? You look tired." Her voice, filled with concern rang out. Liliana did not answer, she just shook her head. "Go home. We've got the situation under control, you can end the day." Ines told her. While muttering a quick "Thank you", Liliana left the room and didn't even care to change out of her work clothes, just grabbing her things and getting on the T.She drove a few stops further, then she needed to for her apartment, since the only thing she wanted after this day, was to see Ethan.

While getting off the T and walking to Ethans Home, Liliana couldn't hold her tears in anymore.She finally reached the apartment complex he lived in and rang the bell. A confused voice answered, but when he was greeted with your sobs only and a quiet "It's me.", he opened up immediately. Liliana took the stairs and finally stood in front of the man she loved, whos presence she needed so much after the day she has had. "Lili. What happened?" Hearing the nickname only made her cry more, her sobs limiting her ability to breathe. Liliana stepped into the flat, being greeted by a happy Jenner, who jumped at her legs. Ethan closed the door, approaching his girlfriend cautiously, he didn't want to startle her. After Jenner was done with his greeting, Ethan slowly came nearer and just engulfed Liliana in a hug.

On that feeling, the young doctor in his arms almost crumbled. They both fell to the ground, when Liliana's legs gave out under her, the exhaustion and sadness of this day taking over her body completely. Ethan pressed her head against his shoulder, stroking her hair gently, muttering things like "It's gonna be okay." When she didn't seem to calm down and started hyperventilating, even more, he picked her head up from his shoulder and cupped it with his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Lili. Calm down, breathe with me, okay? I need you to take a deep breath." As she tried her best, Ethan continued to encourage her, watching her slowly calming down. A while later, when the tears stopped cascading down Liliana's Cheeks, he picked her up bridal style and carried her over, into his bedroom, slowly laying her down on the soft mattress. The feeling of the soft fabric under her made her realize how tired she was. Ethan got into bed next to her, watching his girl as she drifted away, into a peaceful sleep she desperately needed.

So, what do you think? My first upload with my own writing, I finally did it. I apologize if any grammar errors are in there, I tried my best and English is not my native language.

Love, Lili

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan jonah ramsey #mc #prompt #angst #fluff #romance

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talietikasero · 4 years ago

Text

Aria of the Sol

So, this is a preview (with brief context before each scene) for something I’ve been working on for a while. This is a “what if" scenario following the "Aria was revived” ending (/ original implication?). Set in the three-week gap between Revelator and Strive.

[Check it out on AO3]

Scene 1 (Chapter 1): Aria wakes up in the hospital and meets her daughter and son-in-law. [Inspired by “Ch’io mi scordi di te?” by rex101111]

[November 25. Illyrian Royal Medical Center, Patient Room 107. 11:02 am] Approximately five days had passed since she was checked in as a patient. If only she knew the collective shock from the medical staff and those who were waiting to visit their family members when they saw her unconscious form being brought into the facility by Sol nearly kicking the doors off, who had Ky and Sin trailing right behind. Those standing outside were treated to the sight of the Gullinkambi Dark acting as the group's transport, with Daryl's fleet right behind as they were all returning to Eastern Illyria.

“She gonna be alright?”

“Let’s hope so.”

“You’re good to go, Johnny. Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime.”

“Daryl, drop the girls at my home. Dizzy will be waiting outside.”

“Understood.”

Inside her head, memories of who she was started flooding in from two clashing sources. Source A had recent memories about her days figuring out what it’s like to be human. People tracking her down, one annoyed she got away, another insisting she take off the mask so he could see her face. Source B saw nothing but death and destruction, whether it was from her hands or not. Humanity hated her for this, but she didn’t care. Those foolish “knights" who dared oppose her. That grumpy old man who, against all odds, survived fighting her on seventeen different occasions. Out of those eleven brave souls who participated in the tournament that led to her release, one stood above the rest. When she saw him, it was then that she remembered herself —who they were – before taking her final breath.

“H… How could I have forgotten you? If only we could have talked one last time… Just the three of us…”

“…Justice…? That’s right… The man who created us… our boss! I won’t rest until you lie writhing in agony before me!!”

Vision hazy, she stood alone in a void that seemed all too familiar before seeing two others in front of her. This strange woman with a halo and a pumpkin motif who mirrored her in physical appearance down to the face simply smiled, where the armored monster who she admittedly was frightened by stood idly and stared before nodding. They faced each other, joining their hands before merging as one. She saw her own reflection, still dressed in her researcher clothes. Her identity became clear.

She is Aria Hale, one of the key researchers assigned to the Gear Project.

Various figures and faces she couldn’t put names to appear one by one, two of which appeared to be her old colleagues still dressed in their white lab coats. She wanted to call out to them before refraining as they changed into strange attire. One was covered from head to toe in a hooded robe that looked more like a straitjacket than anything, where the other was clad in red, black, and white, and was the reason for her demise seven years prior. Was this truly how they were in her absence? Everything suddenly went blinding white.

Aria had regained consciousness. Nose crinkling at the sterile "lemon" scent, her eyes slowly opened to see the dimmed fluorescent light above. "Nnnngh, where am I?" Her sudden awakening startled the nurse who was doing her hourly check-in, causing her to rush out the door and call for one of the main physicians. Whoops. Curious about her surroundings, she saw that she was dressed in a light blue hospital gown and had been hooked up to a system that tracked her life signs. This wasn’t the project complex infirmary. Where exactly was she?

When the nurse returned following a doctor, Aria apologized for the unintended scare, to which the latter understood and said she overreacted. After a series of questions regarding any possible issues and if she had any dietary restrictions, the doctor had another staff member bring her something to eat and drink. She wasn’t listening to what they were discussing but did catch “well now that she’s up, please contact his majesty.”

[1:15 pm]

“That was unexpected.” The breakfast she ate wasn’t the subpar hospital food she recalled from back then. Rather, she was given a bowl of freshly chopped fruits, some toast and berry cream cheese, and a mug of coffee with sweet cinnamon cream and sugar mixed in. As an afternoon treat, she was also left a fruit tart, along with a kettle of hot water, a small assortment of tea, and two cups.

Aria was passing time with a copy of the local newspaper in hand while the radio played music, trying to wrap her head around what she was reading. The main story reported that there was this worldwide battle ranging from Illyria to the Japanese Colony. The article detailed various heroes fighting against someone named Ariels's forces; assassins, pirates, a doctor (with a paper bag on his head? What in the hell), some soldiers (oh my god just how large is that man with the helm?), and... is that a girl with wings? What exactly did she miss? Despite not knowing who this blue-haired girl was, she couldn't help but feel a little proud of her, reading the positive things the people were saying. "She saved my life!"

"She refused to abandon us."

"She's like an angel! No, a goddess!”

“If she were Queen, she’d make a perfect match for King Ky.” The hospital's usual noise of medical staff chatting or yelling life-saving orders, wheels on carts and beds rolling, and footsteps were present, but she heard what sounded like a group of people headed towards her room. She folded the paper and placed it on the table next to her bedside, figuring she'd finish reading it later. If there was something that caught her attention, it was the weekly news recap radio broadcast stating that the Gear Maker has turned himself in.

“The ‘Gear Maker’… Asuka’s been arrested?”

"Ah, here we are."

"Thank you."

"Thanks, doc."

"This is exciting! I can't wait to meet her." Was her head playing tricks on her? Those muffled voices on the other side of the door sound familiar yet entirely foreign. Still listening, she saw herself in the mirror the nurse had left earlier. "Well, if they come in here, I can't look disheveled." She lowly muttered as she touched up her appearance; it wasn't too bad, just a light sign of tiredness (she wanted a haircut too.) “…When did my hair become… two-tone…?”

First, she heard a soft, feminine voice. "I think it'd be best if she saw you first. I don't want to scare her. D-don't give me that look, Dad!" Scare her? How could that happen when she'd already seen the worst horrors imaginable?

"Dizzy, look at me. You're not scary. But I see what you're getting at." Whoever the second person in this conversation was, she could sense they were reassuring her of something. It sounded like they were together in some way. "I think she'd be happy to see you." Her eyes widened as the third voice caught her off guard. Is that who she thinks it is? Is it really ---? "Incredible, Sol. Your soft side is showing." "Shut it, Ky." Dizzy? Sol? Ky? Who are these people? "I'd say it's normal to forget someone from before, but you know all three of them. Or at least I did. ~" Who the hell was that? Now there's a voice in her head? Great. She just wanted to sleep again and tell those three to come back later. Now was not the time for having to get answers for every question that may pop up. "Heh. Doctor, could you do the honor?" "Oh, of course." There was a gentle knock on the door. "Ma'am?" "Y-yes?" Aria put the mirror away and adjusted her blanket. "You have a couple of visitors. Is it okay to come in?" "Yes. Please enter." The sound of the door slowly creaking open was harsh compared to the steady beeps of her vitals monitors. She wondered who would step in first but kept her hopes at bay. A blond young man dressed in blue and white was the first to enter. Had she seen him somewhere before? He was older now but lacked the fierce and determined gaze she remembered. Neutral bordering on welcoming, this man bowed as he introduced himself. "Good afternoon, madam. My name is Ky Kiske. I'm the King of Illyria." Oh god, what did she do? How was she supposed to greet royalty, let alone the man who's in charge of everything? Unsure of how to do so, she politely nodded and smiled. "Pleased to meet you, your highness. To what do I owe the honor of a visit?" "It's been a few days but what a relief it is to see you're awake. I hope you don’t mind as my wife wanted to come along, and we brought an old ‘friend’ of yours." "I appreciate the concern." "We're sorry to show up unannounced, but we came as soon as we could." Dizzy was the second to enter the room, taking a seat close to her. "I know this may come off as a shock, but it's nice to finally meet you, Mom." Aria took a moment to study Dizzy's appearance. Features remarkably like her own, mainly in the eyes and face shape. Long blue hair tied with yellow ribbons, a tail, red eyes, and wings. The realization hit her like a freight train as this was who she had just read about. This heroine, the queen, was her daughter. How the child of two stressed-out scientists from over one hundred and seventy years ago ended up as one of the most powerful women on Earth is an answer for another time. For now, she was trying to think of a conversation starter. “Nice to meet you too.”

“It wasn’t until our college years that I met your father.”

“You two weren’t high school sweethearts?”

“If we knew each other back then, something might’ve come out of it. He is two years older than I am.”

“Oh. So, with that if you were a sophomore, he was a senior?” Dizzy may have the mind of a woman in her mid- to late-twenties, but she never had the chance to attend an actual school. She did have an idea about how education systems worked.

“Precisely, though I might’ve been bumped up to the same student standing now that I think about it. Though that would’ve been unlikely as I earned my PhD in my late teens. Our studies differed, with my focus on cytology, and his in magic particle physics, but the two of us were recruited to work for the same project group after graduating. He was confused as to how I could be interested in someone like him – an extrovert and an introvert, respectively. Aside from me and our mutual colleague, he didn’t have very many friends – if any at all.” Aria noticed the expression on Ky’s face, indicating that he already knew about her partner’s lack of social skills. “I guess he wanted to be around me so much that he asked to be transferred to the team I was with, rather than work on his original assignment. All jokes aside, it was really because of how much significance the project held. I think he was tasked on researching some powerful spell. Saint Oratorio, I believe it was called.”

Dizzy turned to Ky, asking something that popped into her head. “Isn’t that what they fired that day?” Ky nodded, remembering the argument on if another energy blast should’ve been used or not. Aria noticed the couple sneaking in a quick glance at the door, then exchanging a knowing look at each other.

“Excuse me for a second.” Ky rose from his seat and headed out the door. “Get in here and talk to her, you moron!”

“I told you I’d go in when I was ready!”

“And when would that be, huh?”

“When you and Dizzy left! Let go of me! AGH!”

The door swung open with Ky dragging a familiar face into the room by the lapel of his jacket. Dark brown hair, olive skin, and those bold rectangular eyes she vividly remembers. The world knew him by a nom de guerre – Sol Badguy. His real identity wasn’t common knowledge, only being known by a handful of individuals – Asuka, Paradigm, presumably Ky, Leo, and the Valentines, and her. He displayed no significant signs of aging despite the time that passed since she last saw him, still appearing to be in his mid-twenties. Aria’s grip on the blanket tightened as she murmured his name. “…Frederick?”

____________________________________

Scene 2: After being discharged from the hospital, Dizzy takes Aria out on a shopping trip. Aria meets a friendly time traveler.

[December 2. Downtown Shopping District. 12:15 pm]

“Let’s get going. There’s more shops to browse."

Although the public started to trust her, Dizzy and Aria went out with two members of the Convict Hammer team as their escort. Thankfully, the citizens were nice enough to give the Queen her space and greeted her whenever she passed by. There were some who gave her “thank you” gifts, ranging from goody baskets filled with sweets and teas to flowers and handmade trinkets, all of which were given to their escorts to carry.

Weather today was a cool 60 degrees Fahrenheit, slightly overcast with scattered clouds. Aria recalled something regarding her accessory choice on a past date. “You gotta be some kind of eccentric to wear a hat on a day like today.” The promenade was bustling with the usual crowds, some people were getting ideas for what gifts to buy for those special in their lives as Christmas was approaching. Aria noticed a family of three walking past a toy store, seeing the child point out what was in the window to their parents. Glancing at Dizzy, who was busy meeting and greeting the people she protected during the recent attacks, she thought to herself “if only I – no, we were there for you back then. That could’ve been the three of us.” It made her chuckle that their escort had to explain everyone needed to wait their turn to speak with her daughter – she is technically a celebrity.

Aria couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She stood still, noticing everything froze similarly to that fateful day. Out of nowhere, a man with long blond hair, wearing a blue shirt, black pants, a varsity jacket, and a black bandana appeared next to her. His sudden presence nearly made her jump out of her skin. Just like Ky, Aria vaguely remembers seeing him before too. He simply smiled and waved in a friendly manner. “You have nothin’ to worry about. Name’s Axl. I’m a friend of Fre—I mean, Sol’s.” One more person to add to the list of who knows his real name. “He asked me to check on you today. Glad to see you’re doing well.”

Aria blinked at him owlishly. “I’m sorry but did you just say check on me?”

“Yeah, he’s got other business to attend to – can’t say exactly what it is either.” He shrugged, giving her a look that she couldn’t decipher. “He told me to tell you he’s sorry for being gone, but he did add something about making it up to you. We’ll meet again sometime.” Axl raised his right hand, making a peace sign. “See ya ‘round, Ari.”

“W-wait!” Time resumed, leaving her standing in the middle of the sidewalk confused about what she just heard. She tried to find Axl, her head turning to all possible directions, and no trace of him was to be seen as if he vanished into thin air. Her motions bordered on frantic as some passersby gave her puzzled looks. “He doesn’t have the decency to see me in person, yet he sends a friend to say hi and watch over me. Sometimes, I just don’t understand you, Frederick…”

“Madam Hale, is everything alright?” One Convict Hammer asked regarding her wellbeing. “You seem like something's troubling you.”

“I’m fine, really. I spaced out for a bit.” Aria rubbed the back of her neck in attempt to brush aside what just happened. “Sorry.”

____________________________________

Scene 3: Ky takes Aria to the castle. She meets the other Kings and has something to ask one of them.

[December 3. Illyria Castle War Room, 9:45 am]

“The last time I saw this many people staring at screens and tapping away at keys was during a project crunch.” Coffee cup in hand, Aria commented on the operator crew stationed around what looked like a throne on the lower floor. “It was either from a sooner deadline or everyone just decided to make last minute changes on their data. It wasn’t odd to see at least one or two people running down the complex’s halls with a sizeable stack of papers.”

“Not too different from the crew here, but what can you do? We’re only human. Normally, civilians aren’t allowed in here, but I’ll make an exception.”

“He’s right about the ‘no civilian' policy.” A boisterous voice came from the burly man that approached them. “Ky, who is this?”

“Aria, this is Leo Whitefang, the Second King. Leo, this is Aria Hale. You know, my mother-in-law and you-know-who’s partner.”

She nervously smiled at him. “Hi?” Fitting name considering he has a hairstyle reminiscent of a lion’s mane. He towered over them, standing with a sturdy frame at six feet and five inches. She noticed the difference in the two kings’ fashion choices; Ky wore lighter clothes with his jacket placed over his shoulders, where Leo had a heavy coat with a furry lining.

“Oh, my apologies.” Leo apologizing wasn’t something anyone saw often. He gave Ky a side-eyed glare. “A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“One of the few times I decide to drop by, and the God of War's better half is here.” A man who looked to be exactly the midpoint of Ky and Leo's age gap approached the three, briefly bowing as he stood near them. “Good morning, Ms. Hale.”

"Daryl?" Kiske and Whitefang asked in unison. “What are you doing here?”

“With the G4 summit next week, I thought I’d at least consult with you two in person before I go. It’d be a terrible idea if all three of us went, wouldn’t you agree?”

Aria wondered what the Three Kings had for a planned course of action regarding the conference. At the moment, she remembered what she and Ky had discussed on the trip to the castle. She tapped his shoulder and leaned in to whisper “did you forget my idea?”

“Ah, right. That’s one of the reasons why I brought you here. Leo, Aria has something to ask.”

“And that would be?” She didn’t speak, only bumping her fists together. “You want us to do what now?" Leo asked as he crossed his arms. He had an idea of what she meant but would rather hear it from her. "Teach me how to fight. I can't be reliant on others to defend me." "Okay." Ky chimed in. "Okay!?! You're telling me that the woman who used to be Just--- OW!" Aria punched Leo in the stomach as hard as she could. "Don't call me that."

“AUGH! Was that necessary!?” Ky couldn't help but laugh at Leo's expense. "And we're off to a good start. Look at it this way, it's not like we’re placing her in a big role like Ramlethal."

"Dammit, bambino! You have a point. Fine. Report back here at 0900 tomorrow. Your training will begin then." Leo’s communicator went active. Holding a finger up to his ear, he answered and looked towards the hallway. “Hm? Yeah. Alright, I’ll be right there. I’ll get you access.” Click. “That was Ram. Did you not authorize her entry to the armory?” Ky shook his head – the task referred to was Leo’s job. “Before I go, what’s your preferred style? Sword? Shield? Bare hands?”

“You’ll find out when you start teaching me.” Aria replied with a hint of playful snark.

“You really are Sol’s girlfriend.” As Leo walked away, Aria turned to see what looked to be a girl wearing a white body-length cape with red bandages on her left limbs waiting for him. The mysterious girl seemed to be hovering a few inches off the ground and was accompanied by two small flying creatures.

“He’s a bit of a hardass, but you learn to tolerate it.”

“I heard that! There’s a multitude of reasons you’re not as popular as us and that’s one of them!”

“See what I mean. Also, this is for you.“ Daryl handed Aria a medium sized gift bag with pink and purple tissue paper sticking out. Printed with an art nouveau floral pattern, there was a sun emblem on the lower right corner, not-so subtly hinting at who dropped it off. “I didn’t know which flavor you’d like, so I put both chocolate and strawberry desserts inside, on top of your actual gift. Don’t worry, I didn’t look.”

[Kiske Residence, Aria’s room. 5:15 pm]

“If you ever stop by, I hope you like what I picked out…” Aria placed the folded bag in the drawer and slid it shut. She looked to the closet where the other clothing she bought was stored, including a dress and hat like what she owned in the past. Hopefully, she’ll be able to wear it sometime.

“Ram, are you sure about this? We haven’t introduced ourselves yet! She might think we’re being rude.”

“I’m certain, El. At least let me try and speak with her. I’m only the messenger here.”

“Hey, are ya talking about Sol’s gal? Ya know, I was the first Valentine’s companion.”

“Ugh, stay out of this, you big balloon creep!”

“Lucifero. Self-destruct. Why must you follow me everywhere?”

“You’re getting better at this whole showing emotion thing, but you’re terrible at small talk! …okay. I’ll be waiting in our room until you’re done.”

Following the fading footsteps, a rhythmic knock-knock-knock preceded a monotone voice. “Miss Aria? May I come in?”

“It's unlocked.” Her attention was turned to the same young girl from this morning standing in the doorway. She wore a dark blue and white sailor dress with a mint green bow, had amber eyes, brown skin, and cream white hair. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but you’re Ramlethal, right?”

“Of course you two have met! Just not like this! ~”

“Correct. As you may have learned, I am a Valentine, and as such my sister and I were created from you.”

“’Valentine'? Created… from… me?”

“Mother used you as a template for our existence. I can see why now but telling you this isn’t why I’m here.”

“Then why are you? Do you… want to chat? You look like you could use someone to talk to.”

Ramlethal's blank expression shifted to a soft smile. “Perhaps another time, but there’s something I have to do first.” She walked up to Aria and hugged her. “This is from him. Thank you for returning. Sol is much happier than he was before.” She let go and left, gently closing the door behind her.

Aria stood there dumbfounded at what had just occurred. “He’s… happier?”

She took a seat at the desk where she placed her gift from earlier. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she decided to open it. “I know it’s from you, but what exactly did you get me?” Removing the tissue paper and the extra gift desserts, she pulled out a black box. Placed inside was a brown teddy bear dressed as Sol – removable headband included – holding a heart and rose, along with a card that had “to Aria” written on it. Opening it, she read the message.

“Cute plushie, isn’t he? I got this custom made just for you. Even comes with a change of clothes: a purple shirt, black slacks, and a lab coat. Hope you’re not too worried about me. I promise I’ll see you soon. Okay? 🖤”

Aria finally has friends and family, yet without Frederick, she felt alone. Opening the container with the strawberry pudding, she picked up a spoon, and placed a scoop of the sweet in her mouth. “I’ll hold you to that… Really wanted to share this with you too.”

____________________________________

Scene 4: Aria meets her other genetic copy and her grandson. Song used: “Pirates” by Caravan Palace.

[December 5. 6:30 pm]

Reorganizing her belongings, the soft melody from the song currently playing on the phonograph filled the room.

Do me, beauty. Rock me up, yup go once again. Hug me, beauty. Oop, the way this life is clearing into my brains. Fool me, beauty. Let me think of home once again. Hear me, beauty. You gotta hide away the secret of your low bone this man.

“Miss Aria. It’s me, Ram. Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

“I hope I’m not intruding on anything.” Ramlethal was carrying her puppy in her arms to keep it from barging in.

“You weren’t. I was just cleaning up. What brings you to my room?”

“I, uh, wanted to tell you I think your skills are developing nicely.” She chose her words carefully, trying not to sound off-putting. Holding a conversation is something she’s still working on. “I had some downtime and observed again.”

Aria's training today consisted of testing her agility and competence to read and react to opponents. During a brief cooldown period, she did notice the small group of people watching included more. “Who were those two standing next to you, Dizzy, and the others?”

“My younger sister and your grandson. They’re,” Ram paused for a second, “actually waiting outside because they would like to talk to you as well.”

Aria's attention went to the open door, seeing a grey-haired girl and a blond boy with an eyepatch sticking their heads in. “Come on in, you two.”

Elphelt and Sin entered, both taking note of how grand the royal residence's guest room was designed. The younger Valentine was nowhere near as reserved as her sister when it came to talking about something – the first thing that came out of her mouth after seeing Hale was “oh, she’s even prettier in person! I see where Miss Dizzy got her looks from! And by extension, me!”

“Like looking into a mirror, isn’t it? Even more so since you got a new hairdo. ~”

“Weirdly familiar, like I’ve seen you before.” Sin poked his chin, trying to recall. “I remember now, there was the first one with the winged hat who tried to kill the Old Man! She had a freaky Gear form and managed to brainwash me for a bit too. But I can tell you aren’t her since she’s gone.” He was jabbed in the arms by the sisters. “Ouch, what was that for!?”

“You had a brain to begin with, you dope?!”

“El, don’t be rude!”

As the three were fighting amongst themselves, Aria found herself thinking “what in the hell happened.”

[7:43 pm]

“I’m glad I had the chance to speak with you. Is this what is referred to as ‘therapy'?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that, but let’s say yes for the time being. Hey, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“N-no. It wasn’t. You just seem more like a mother to me than my ‘actual' one. I am aware I’m not human, and she created me as an emotionless doll she threw away when I had no further use.” Ramlethal tried to soothe herself by smoothing out her bandages. Part of her wanted to tell Aria about what happened in Scandiva, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Her magehound started snuggling next to her, sensing the mood drop. “She… she called me a failure.”

Aria grabbed a tissue and wiped the tear that ran down Ram's cheek. After disposing of it – and picking up the Sol bear – she kneeled in front of the Valentine, holding the plush in front of her own face. Using one of the bear's limbs to tap her knee, she had her attention. “Listen to me. She’s the failure, not you.”

Peeking up from behind the toy, Aria was treated to the sight of her genetic copy struggling to keep herself from giggling.

____________________________________

Scene 5 (Chapter 2): Day trip date. Aria brings up a very sensitive subject later that night. (Note: this was written with the game’s implication of a pregnancy. Also, I did some level of research and figured the stage I picked is approximately where Italy's Amalfi Coast is.)

[December 9. L'oro di Illyria. 5:45 pm]

A few hours later, they went for a leisurely trip down south, dressed in their best attempts at incognito clothing. Emphasis on attempt as the suppressor was a dead giveaway (it was worth a shot). Aria was wearing that dress and hat she purchased a week prior, paired with leggings, fuzzy boots, and a warm winter coat. A callback to how he dressed himself in the past, Frederick was wearing a black button-up shirt with a tank top underneath, dark blue jeans, and a pair of Chelsea boots. He also had a mid-long jacket that she brought along just in case, placed under the sidecar’s seat.

“Oh, I remember this place! Heaven’s Edge! It’s where we met for the first time after I left the Sanctuary to get some fresh air. Ah, memories. ~ Or am I remembering wrong? Those sword monoliths look very familiar.”

There’s that childlike voice again. It changed to a mature tone mid-sentence.

“Just who are you? And how can your voice change like that!?”

“Oops, I’m sorry. You see, I’m the previous owner of your current body. My name is J—”

Before this disembodied voice could say her name, Aria’s attention went elsewhere. “You alright?”

“Uh, yeah. This isn’t what I thought you meant by going out, but at least the trip here was fun.” The highway they took was through inner Italy and had passed through numerous towns, of which contained convenience shops to obtain refreshments here and there. “Built that bike yourself, didn’t you?”

“Designed for one so that’s why I made a sidecar for you.”

“Can it turn into a minibike if I wanted it to?”

“What? You’re psychic now? I’m still working on that part.”

“Hey, chief! Ari!”

“Axl? What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area. Thought I’d drop by and say ‘ello. Almost didn’t recognize the two of ya.” He wasn’t used to seeing Frederick, let alone anybody, in anything so casual. Aria, on the other hand, wore that dress nicely. He couldn’t help but feel a slight hint of sadness, as the last woman he saw in a similar clothing article was M— he mentally shook his head and put on a smile. “That outfit looks lovely. Ain’t you a lucky guy?”

“Thank you. Nice to see you in real time and not during a time freeze.”

“Ah, yeah. I wanted to avoid trying to talk in a crowd. My bad if you were annoyed by my choice.” Axl had the power to jump to any point in time and any dimension, yet he’s been frequently visiting for some reason only he knows. “I got something to tell you.”

“I could use a quick snack.” Aria wasn’t paying attention to Low and spotted the outdoor marketplace, noticing the large ship cruising by. “I’ll be over by that fruit vendor. Don’t be too long, alright?”

As Aria left, the two men watched her reach into her purse, taking out a few W$ to purchase an apple. It amused them as she tried to fight the kind vendor about giving her a free apple, insisting that she pay for it as it’s only fair for business. Not only did she end up with a free fruit, but she was also given a bag containing two additional and a bottle of cream soda with a straw. She didn’t look back at them; her attention went to admiring the colorful cliffside residential buildings.

“Do you think I could get a free piece of fruit and a drink too or is she a special case?”

“You might scare the living daylight out of him.”

[9:15 pm]

"So, um, about Dizzy." Aria clasped her hands together and twiddled her thumbs, avoiding eye contact while staring at the paved stone walkway. "I was trying not to bring her up, but what about her?" "I..." She took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. "I didn't know how to tell you." She didn't hear a response, worrying her about what Frederick was thinking. A moment later, she felt a hand rubbing her back, taking this as a sign that he's listening while trying to soothe her. "I already experienced how you reacted when I told you I was sick with that infection, but I didn't want to make that worse by telling you you're going to be a father. I don’t recall how far along I was, but you shouldn’t have had to live with knowing you’ll never see your unborn after I was gone either." He remained quiet a bit longer before reaching to wrap his arm around and pull her closer. Not too suddenly as he didn't want to give off the wrong idea, but once he saw her ease into him, he placed a kiss on the crown of her head. “Do you remember your birthday where I showed you that programming ‘error'?”

“You mean the ring? Of course I do. I didn’t mind that you didn’t have the real one because your method was so cute. It was so… you. If neither of us killed the mood, I would’ve told you I was looking forward to changing my name to Aria Bulsara.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn't occasionally think of some alternate time where we truly settled down. We were still scientists and met under the same circumstances, but there was no Gear project or magic, and you didn't have an illness. Or at least one you didn't tell me about near your last days." "Wha--... really?" "Yeah. Then all this shit happened." His voice was deceptively calm, yet she could sense the rage beneath it all. "My conversion and the resulting amnesia, your conveniently timed 'disappearance', and the destruction of the complex with countless deaths were the beginning." "Then decades later I lost control of my mind and body and waged war against the world. That stubborn geezer never quit, but then Ky and you showed up to seal 'me' away. I don't think I felt it, but during my imprisonment, that's when I gave birth?" "Sounds about right. We're living in one of those stories I used to read when I was bored. The reader turns out to be the hero, where someone very close to them was used as a twist villain."

____________________________________

Scene 6 (Chapter 3): Aria takes up the offer of becoming a bounty hunter, taking up the alias “Luna". Her new outfit is a blue, black, and white version of Sol's, with a pair of blue goggles in place of a headband. Song used: “Seven Seas of Rhye” by Queen.

[December 10. Somewhere in the Illyrian outskirts. Midday.]

“No targets today, so do you wanna just relax? I think there’s a beach just up ahead.”

“We’ve been on the road for a few hours, so a rest period at a beach sounds perfect right now.” She noticed what song was currently playing, having already passed the bridge. “Oh, I know this one! It’s one of my favorites.” Clearing her throat, she began singing along. “Storm the master-marathon, I’ll fly through.”

He couldn’t help but smile and continue. “By flash and thunder-fire and I'll survive (I'll survive, I'll survive).”

“Then I'll defy the laws of nature and come out alive,” she pointed a finger at him. “Then I'll get you!”

“Be gone with you, you shod and shady senators.”

“Give out the good, leave out the bad evil cries.”

He clenched his fist and held it up. “I challenge the mighty Titan and his troubadours.”

She placed her index fingers at the ends of her mouth. “And with a smile.”

He pointed towards the shore of the Tyrrhenian Sea as they sang the last line together. “I'll take you to the Seven Seas of Rhye!”

[Nighttime.]

A cool 55 degrees, the night sky was clear as the stars strewn throughout were in full display. They sat by a bonfire, sharing drinks and leaning back against the Firewheel Mk.2, enjoying the other's company. There was a brief squabble on whether they should find an actual motel room to stay in for the night, with Aria winning as she convinced Frederick to sleep in a bed as opposed to the ground.

Fire crackling paired with sounds from the nearby wildlife, she thought of a conversation topic. “Hey, do you wanna hear something weird?”

“Shoot.”

“Before I woke up, I saw myself, Justice, and someone else.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It was unnerving. She looked just like me but had a halo and her hair was the inverse of mine. My first day at Ky and Dizzy's, I scrounged around and found a cracked one that looked just like what I saw. Along with an iron mask, a crux ansata, black heels and gloves, and a white jumpsuit. It all fit me perfectly! I was considering wearing that instead of this.”

“Jack-O.”

“Huh?”

He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out before continuing. “To bring you back, a special Valentine was made that contained the other half of your soul. Her name was Jack-O.” He butted the cigarette before tossing it into the fire. “Ram, Sin, and I chased her down before any additional damage could've been done. Then a few days later, she reappeared with Asuka, and struck a deal with us. Said something like ‘if you can get me close enough, I can fuse with Justice to revive, well, you.’ I thought they were full of it. Turned out they were telling the truth.”

“He's right! ~ I took off my mask and told him I was literally half of you. Nearly lost his mind right there. Sorry about the forced mind override, but you refused to accept it, and he wasn’t going to back down. ~”

“That explains the voice in my head. I wonder how her stuff got into my room though.”

“She’s still in there?” He gently poked her forehead. “I can imagine when you wear these, she also sees life through blue tinted lenses.”

“You’ve got puns now? I knew I should’ve gone with a pink color scheme.”

“Blue’s more your color.”

#guilty gear #aria hale #only tagging her since she's the main character of this little project #i wasn't much of a fan of ggst's story so here's my idea #this is a sol / aria story but i tried including a good amount of supporting cast #it's not perfect but i've been trying to write while doing like five other things #nat's fanfics #wip #sorry if everyone sounds even slightly ooc #i tried to get everyone's speech patterns right #even asked one of my friends and he said i did a good job #criticism welcome #i dunno when this will be done to my liking #so i'll post this preview #i'll probably receive my ao3 invite before i'm done lmao

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 5 years ago

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Descending into Madness An Anarchist-Nihilist Diary of Anti-Psychiatry

Just sayin’... The opinions expressed in this text represent no other than my own. My position against psychiatry is based on my own personal experience and should not be taken as an authority on the subject. Psychiatry, medications, and or psychiatric incarceration is considered helpful by some, and I wish them the very best experience with it.

But also... To the ‘freaks’, the ‘weirdos’, the ‘delinquents’, and the unruly... To those who embrace these words like daggers drawn against civility, To the insubordinate youth who refuse to tranquilize their play with meds, To those who riot in the asylums, and those who dare to escape from them...

Let the moonlight illuminate our iconoclasm, witches and savage animals spellbinding fire in the night, for the destruction of society, with the courage of unmedicated confrontation.

Any society that you build will have its limits. And outside the limits of any society, unruly and heroic tramps will wander with their wild and virgin thought — those who cannot live without planning ever new and dreadful outbursts of rebellion! I shall be among them!” — Renzo Novatore

I’m sittin’ at a big round table with about three nurses and two doctors. My eyes are sensitive to the light cus I haven’t slept in days. A nurse directly beside me has been gently nodding at me with the same look of concern for about an hour. My vision keeps blurring and then re-focusing. My hands are slightly trembling. I’ve been fighting the urge to lay my head down since I sat down. It appears this awkward meeting is almost over, and I have some papers to sign. The doctor who has been talkin’ since I got here is still talkin’ and I admit, I haven’t really been paying much attention. Finally the talking stops and everyone stands up. The nurse beside me helps me up by my arm. I start to feel dizzy. We begin walking down a long hallway and eventually enter a room. Another nurse in the room greets me with a pillow, a blanket, and a pill to “help with rest”. Before sittin’ down on the bed I’ve been assigned, a nurse calmly requests my belt and shoe laces. I comply and decide while I’m up I might as well take a shit before I go to sleep. About five seconds after my ass hits the toilet seat I hear a commotion - frantic pounding and demands to unlock the bathroom door. Confused and startled, I jump up, trip over my pants, and unlock the door. Apparently I’m not allowed to lock the bathroom door - or have it totally closed while I’m in there. I quickly finish shitting in plain view of a nurse and walk back to bed. I notice a different nurse has pulled up a chair right beside it and sits down with a clipboard and pen. I lay down and try to get comfortable while accepting the awkward close watch by this nurse beside me. As I start drifting off to sleep I reflect on everything that’s goin’ on. Oh that’s right. Earlier today I tried to hang myself in my apartment and this is my first night in a psych ward.

**** INDIANAPOLIS, March 18 th 2018 — Resource Treatment Center Riot Nearly a dozen Indianapolis police officers were called to respond Wednesday night to a riot at a juvenile psychiatric treatment and addiction facility on the city’s east side.

Eleven officers were dispatched to 1404 S. State Avenue just before 11 p.m. Wednesday on a report of a disturbance at the facility. The location is home to the Resource Treatment Center juvenile psychiatric facility, as well as Options Transitional Living, which provides sober housing for homeless or at-risk youth.

Police arrived to find that a group of juvenile residents had done more than $50,000-worth of damage to the facility and assaulted four staff members. Officers took nine juveniles ranging in age from 13-17 into custody on preliminary charges of vandalism, rioting, battery and disorderly conduct.

****

During my time at this psychiatric prison I was subjected to what’s called ‘one on ones’ which basically means I’m at risk to myself and therefore require 24 hour observation by staff. Two different nurses watched me shit, sleep, cry in my sleep, and eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was required to take meds and a sleep aid everyday. I had face-to-face therapy once a day. I was only allowed one 15 minute phone call per day. I wasn’t allowed outside at all. I was told to “set anchor” because the faculty had no intentions on releasing me “anytime soon”.

All the reasons I was originally depressed took a backseat to this new horror show I found myself in. Everyone in my ward talked about one day gettin’ out, despite being told they would “never make it on the outside”. I couldn’t help but notice the striking similarities to incarceration at a prison for criminals. This was a prison. The more I heard stories of attempted escape, violent physical repression, and hopeless isolation, the more I realized this was not a place to ‘get well’, nor any hospital I ever been to. These prison guards wore scrubs, enforced order with chemical warfare and physical restraint jackets. “The hole” was the padded room. Those who resisted were tackled to the hard floor causing cuts and bruises. And to the nurses and doctors, we were all just “case files” or “subjects” to be talked down to and humiliated. We were in their world now and it was their rules.

“We need a program of psychosurgery and political control of our society. The purpose is physical control of the mind. Everyone who deviates from the given norm can be surgically mutilated. The individual may think that the most important reality is his own existence, but this is only his personal point of view. This lacks historical perspective. Man does not have the right to develop his own mind. This kind of liberal orientation has great appeal. We must electrically control the brain. Some day armies and generalswill be controlled by electrical stimulation of the brain.” - Dr. Jose Delgado, a Spanish professor of neurophysiology and author of the book ‘Physical Control of the Mind: Toward a Psychocivilized Society’

The era of institutionalized ‘care’ for those with ‘mental illnesses’ began somewhere around the 19th century with heavy support from the state. Public asylums were built in Britain after the passing of the 1808 County Asylums Act. This created an upsurge of asylums being built everywhere. These asylums were known for inmates havin’ to live in filthy conditions with bars, chains, and handcuffs.

The Lunacy Act 1845 was known to have changed the status of ‘mentally ill’ people to ‘patients’ who required treatment. This led to the eventual chemical treatment of people as ‘medical patients’ – despite the fact that lab tests, X-rays, and brain scans have never verified psychiatric disorders as medical diseases or brain damage. Over time, this inspired the emergence of psychiatric medical experiments on ‘patients’ in order to chemically ‘cure’ their ‘disorders’. The 20th century saw an explosion of psychiatric drugs. The first anti-psychotic drug, Chlorpromazine (brand names: Thorazine, Largactil, Hivernal, and Megaphen) was first synthesized in France in 1950.

Psychiatry, asylums, and prescribed drugs contributed heavily to reinforcing social order and individual submission through fear. As the years went on psychiatry and asylums expanded, re-defining and strengthening the power of state repression and civilized control.

Along with this came an ever-expanding culture of publicly calling out those who were considered ‘disturbed’ or ‘mentally ill’. The first to be targeted were those who didn’t fit the narrowly defined behavioral expectations of society. In the 18th to early 20th century, individuals assigned female at birth were often institutionalized for damn near everything including unpopular opinions, social unruliness or a politicized refusal to be controlled by patriarchal society. Other individuals of various assigned identities who sexually deviated from hetero-normativity were institutionalized and considered “confused” and in need of being converted.

One major marketing scheme deployed by the pharmacology industry was the social construction of an ideal emotional state that every ‘normal’ individual was expected to experience. Today this same ideal can be found everywhere – from televised entertainment to billboard advertisements and so on. The ‘happy’ and ‘depressed’ binary was used to create social pressure leading people to feel isolated or out of place for not happily accepting the conditions of society on a daily basis. Being “sad all the time” was, and still is frowned upon and ridiculed – regardless of its complex nature and the reasons behind it.

Despite being emotionally fluid by nature, the individual human (animal) is expected to fulfill the civilized role of positivist supremacy. This normalized obsession with positivity plays a key role in suppressing emotional responses of outrage to the multitude of oppressive experiences. The obsession with - and normalization of - positivist performance also encourages people to overlook the deep-seated trauma caused by civilization on a daily basis. Everything from the fear of flying, car wrecks, workplace injuries, to being late on bill payments – all examples of fears attributed to trauma. But because civilized life requires wage-slavery and commitment to continue, these forms of trauma are trivialized and written off - usually followed by something like “that’s life” or “it is what it is”.

As techno-industrial society advances, new laws are constructed to create new definitions of ‘criminality’. This means there is an ever-narrowing idea of legalism. The same can be said for psychiatry. As more labels and identities for ‘disorders’ are created, the pharmacology industry expands. And as the conditions of capitalist, industrial society continue to worsen, more misery becomes available for exploitation with the sale of “feel good” prescriptions.

Under capitalism, where there are ‘correctional’ facilities, there is a profit motive to keep them filled. Where there are ‘inmates’ to fill those institutions, there is financial gain or cheap labor. And where there is any potential for social unrest, there is an ideology and identity to categorically define an unruly individual as ‘anti-social’. Society turns ‘disorders’ into categorical identities assigned to those it considers ‘undesirable’ in order to reinforce the social conditions that pressure people into behavioral uniformity.

Today, within the realm of identity politics, psychiatric-assigned identities garner social capital where ever victimhood is glorified for social benefit. As with any form of identity politics, I have seen many individuals exploit psychiatric identities by brandishing them as reasons to rid themselves of responsibility for their actions. And as this plays out in the all-too-familiar social cannibalism of identity politics, individuals personalize these psychiatric- assigned identities and create inverted hierarchies of social entitlement.

Ultimately, a new identity-based movement is formed, gaining media recognition and becomes assimilated into the broader prison of society.

****

Thursday, September 4, 2014 Riot at Central New York Psychiatric Center A dozen staff members were injured when several inmates started rioting in a kitchen area at the Central New York Psychiatric Center on Wednesday.

Four people were hospitalized for their injuries, authorities stated. The fight broke out at about 11:45 a.m., when five to six inmates started attacking staff in one of the kitchen areas using kitchen utensils as weapons, according to the state Correctional Officers & Police Benevolent Association. The inmates tried to fight their way into the mess hall.

At the same time, another fight broke out between inmates and staff on the floor above the kitchen, officials said. The emergency alarms were raised, and security personnel inside the facility were able to break up the two fights, with help from the state police.

****

After careful planning, I was released from psychiatric incarceration much sooner than originally set. The walls were closing in on me and the monotony of daily under-stimulation, medicated numbness, and confinement started breaking me down. Witnessing the prison cannibalism of infighting between incarcerated individuals, I began spiralling worse than I had prior to being there. On top of that, my two attempts to secretly organize a rebellion had failed miserably; the wards or ‘bunks’ were so small that an artificially constructed bond was easily created between most staff and patients. Snitching was heavily rewarded.

Nobody wanted “any problems”. So instead I turned to another method of emancipation; using my own high school knowledge of psychology to convince my therapist I was merely suffering from “a broken heart” due to a “recent romantic breakup”.

Despite the full spectrum of my hatred for society, the life I was living at the time, and the complex emotional storm that raged in my head on a daily basis, I was able to convince my therapist and the other nurses I was just upset over a breakup. The humiliation of having to role-play such a lie paled in comparison to my desire for freedom from that place. Released into my mom’s custody, I was required to continue taking my medications three times a day and seeing a counsellor once a week.

Against the wards request, I went back to living in my apartment. I could see where the police had went through all my notebooks as well as a pocket book of phone numbers. The noose I worked so hard to construct and attach to a wooden beam along my ceiling was gone. To this day I don’t know if my landlord took it or if the police did. My rent was overdue indicated by the notes in my mailbox. Luckily I was working a self-managed painting job at the time so I couldn’t get fired. I could start back up the next week.

That night I masturbated for the first time in what felt like years. But I couldn’t orgasm. The next day I called the doctor who dealt my meds. According to him, my impossible orgasm was common with people on psychiatric medication. A week went by and I continued to feel numb. Nothing was interesting to me. I often found myself watching the hands on clocks move or staring out my window at passing cars. I didn’t feel sad. But I didn’t feel good either. I just existed.

After about a month of being out of the psych ward, I decided to stop taking my meds. The hassle of getting them filled as well as keepin’ up with taking them everyday just wasn’t worth it. And neither was feeling numb. I didn’t know what would happen. Would they find out and send the police to take me back? A couple weeks went by without meds and I started to feel slight changes. I was scared but prepared for the hellish withdrawals I had heard all about. I got dizzy a bit, and some headaches but nothing more. Soon I stopped gettin’ calls from my counsellor. I expected her to be upset and leave me angry voicemails. It never happened. Eventually I felt my appetite change and I could experience emotional reactions to things easier and more frequently. And I finally had an orgasm!

For the next couple years, I reflected on those experiences and began exploring the origins of my suicidal thoughts, the origins of the morbid depression that caused them, as well as the consumerist life I lived as a wage-slave law-abiding citizen.

****

A Riot on Thanksgiving Morning 2016 at Springfield Hospital Center (a regional psychiatric hospital and former slave plantation located in Sykesville, Maryland) In the early-morning hours of Thanksgiving Day, Catherine Starkes and April Savage huddled in an office with several other employees at the Springfield Hospital Center in Carroll County as patients rioted around them.

Starkes and Savage said patients threw chairs, knocked over file cabinets and tried to break into the staff's Plexiglas-enclosed refuge. The patients poured cooking oil over the floors, making them slippery. One patient tried to crawl into the office through the suspended ceiling, Starkes recalled.

It was like no other night she could remember in 22 years of working with dangerously mentally ill patients at Maryland state hospitals.

"They wanted to take over the unit. They seized the unit," she said.

****

“What we say is the truth is what everybody accepts. ...I mean, psychiatry: it's the latest religion. We decide what's right and wrong. We decide who's crazy or not. I'm in trouble here. I'm losing my faith.” -Dr. Railly from the movie “12 Monkeys”

Similar to religion, psychiatry assumes a powerful role in defining “right” or “wrong” in terms of “normal” vs “abnormal” behavior. The standardization of a particular, socially expected behavior is essential for creating categories of people defined in terms of their contribution to the collective success of society. With psychology as a basis for analytically outlining ‘problems’ and suggesting “potential cures”, mass society becomes dependent on its authority for deciding who is “normal” and who isn’t. Certain behavioral characteristics unique to an individual become outlawed in order to maintain this social conformity.

Speaking from my own experience, psychiatry and all its theories, roles, and chemical prescriptions at best aims to merely manage ‘symptoms’ of ‘disorders’ - not eliminate the sources of their creation.

By ‘symptoms’ I am referring to any set of behaviors or emotional responses that indicate an individual’s struggle to conform to societal expectations or ‘normal’ behavior.

By ‘disorders’ I am referring to the set of behaviors or emotional responses that have been selected and condemned by society, and therefore declared a ‘mental illness’ by the authority of psychiatry.

By ‘sources’ I am referring to any and all prisons, societal forms of coercion, and civilized society – all of which pressure individual subservience and ideological conformity.

The conflict of interest in ‘curing’ the ‘mentally ill’ becomes apparent when acknowledging that successful cures to particular behaviors and emotional responses would require the abolition of civilized society all together - the same civilized society that creates trauma, followed by the concept of mental illness and subsequently a ‘solution’ via many forms of emotional anaesthesia.

Another factor of social control built into psychiatry is its ability to distort and control dissenting information. Social systems that require the subordination of individuals are always sharpening their ability to suppress or demonize information – especially information derived from rebellious experience. When it is individuals themselves who are considered living examples of this information, those seeking total control will portray them in such a way that renders the nature of their rebellion a mere product of mental illness. For example, the Soviet Union responded to rebels with psychiatric wards called “Psikhushkas”. One of the first Psikhushkas was a psychiatric prison in the city of Kazan. In 1939 it was transferred to the secret police. Psychiatric incarceration was used in response to political demonstrations and attacks. It was common practice for soviet psychiatrists in Psikhushka hospitals to diagnose those who rebelled against soviet authority with schizophrenia.

Just as religious authority figures speak of purging people of their sins and demons, psychiatry seeks to purge people of their ‘sickness’ and ‘bad’ habits. In the church of psychiatry, only those most committed to social conformity (or emotional suppression) can enter the heavens of being socially recognized as ‘sane’ or ‘normal’. Normal or civilized behavior is rewarded with social capital and easier access to survival resources. And in the eyes of those who fear unbridled freedom, without the church of mental psychiatric authority, ‘the masses’ just might descend into madness...

****

Sept 5 2016 John George Psychiatric Hospital Riot Nurses at Alameda County’s embattled mental hospital say three patients tried to incite a riot overnight and escape the facility. Staff members are blaming chronic overcrowding at John George Psychiatric Hospital’s emergency room. It’s the latest in a string of troubling incidents at the hospital uncovered by 2 Investigates.

Nurses – who didn’t want to be identified for fear of jeopardizing their jobs – tell 2 Investigates that two male patients and one woman demanded to be discharged from John George’s Psychiatric Emergency Services (PES) department Sunday night. But when they were refused, they turned violent, according to staff.

The patients allegedly tried to encourage others to help them push the facility doors open to escape.

****

“The Law, social expectation, and psychiatric tradition and practice point to coercion as the profession’s paradigmatic characteristic. Accordingly, I define psychiatry as the theory and practice of coercion, rationalized as the diagnosis of mental illness and justified as medical treatment aimed at protecting the patient from himself and society from the patient.” - Psychiatrist turned anti-psychiatry, Thomas S Szasz, M. D.

While reflecting on my experience with psychiatry, including being on three different medications and my stay in the ward, I started asking myself questions I had never thought to ask before: what are the social conditions contributing to my feelings of misery? What type of behavior is characteristic of ‘mental illness’ and ‘normal’ functioning? Who enforces these definitions as universal truths to begin with? Is it the same psychiatric authority that at one point considered homosexuality a mental illness – then changed their minds in 1973?

I couldn’t help but notice that despite all the therapy, meds, and psychiatric hospitality the world outside my head was still the same. Poverty still dominated my hood, rich billionaires were still playin’ golf while the government continued bombing other countries. Millions of non-human animals were still bein’ mutilated in slaughterhouses on a daily basis, and the environment was still bein’ devastated by industrial expansion. I still needed to wage-slave away to pay my rent. And like everyone else, I needed to do this until I got too old and eventually live out my days in a nursing home. But somehow I was supposed to be ‘happy’ - or at least apathetically accepting of it all without a fuss. Obedience without incident. Without question. Or as the others in the ward had said to me “no problems”.

Currently in my life, I am still angry, still depressed, and still sometimes suicidal. But rather than seeing these things as what’s broken about me, I see them as a reflection of how fucked up the world is around me. I find little things to help me channel the anger, depression, and suicidal thoughts. I exercise, practice mixed martial arts, enjoy a walk in the woods at night. I star-gaze from park benches, rooftops, and moving freight trains. I indulge in stolen food and cherish the excitement of criminal activity. Managing my emotions is a daily activity coupled with observation and growth. I listen to the stories of others and learn from their experiences. I listen to my emotions and source their origins, making it easier to understand my needs and desires. My emotions – my madness - manifesting as anger, depression, and so on remain sharp and act as the best tools for understanding the effects of this imprisoning society on my well-being.

My disposition lacks evidence of being broken or brain damaged – if anything, it would suggest the contrary. My emotional state is a complex response to the anxiety that occurs when recognizing society for what it is – a prison propagating itself as ‘normal’ life. And integrated within this prison is a web of altered realities that materialize the logic of control and domination: Wage-slavery masquerading as productivity and personal responsibility. Coerced submission and obedience to law and order in “the land of the free”. Pictures of happy cows on packages of mutilated body parts. Borders, bio-technology, cyberspace communities of friends interacting with the emotional vacancy of digital communication.

And it is here, in this same social prison society, that the word insanity is used to describe an individual person rather than industrial civilization - the epitome of mechanized social control.

“The stars up close to the moon were pale; they got brighter and braver the farther they got out of the circle of light ruled by the giant moon” ― Ken Kesey, from the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

I believe deep down all people are ‘insane’ - not in terms of mental illness - but in terms of individual, unique differences that remain defiantly incompatible to behavioral order. In society, some people hide these differences better than others. And many people I have come across express frustration with having to keep themselves locked up inside, aching to break out. The fear of being socially labelled insane or crazy keeps people passive and submissive. But some people experience difficulty assimilating themselves. And while society attempts to frantically control and eliminate certain undesirable people and behaviors, natural responses to environmental conditions continue to produce both.

If one were to really examine the social interactions between individuals, one can see the subtle tip-toeing of animals peeking from within the wardrobe of humanism. It is the fear of being too loud, too angry, too sad, too imaginative – the fear of allowing oneself to exist at full bloom – that incarcerates the animal individual. It is the fear of exhibiting any personal qualities or characteristics that would violate the boundaries of socially expected behavior. Breaking the laws of psychiatry could be punishable by chemical injection, imprisonment, or even death.

This fear also plays a vital role in creating an obsession with relying on institutional specialization rather than peer to peer support. This obsession is normalized when, in response to someone reaching out for emotional support, friends suggest ‘professional help’ as if to surrender themselves ineffective by default. It says something about the nature of one’s confidence, ability, and will to support another when that support is often outsourced to an elite group of ‘professionals’. I’m not tryin’ to say that every individual has the capacity to support others at all times: I am suggesting an examination of the inferiority complex internalized by people in the face of institutions, and how individuals often find themselves too busy obeying the demands of capitalism, or too distracted by consumerism to make time for supporting their loved ones – let alone themselves.

If one were to examine society as a whole, one can see how over-simplified, quick-fix solutions to complex problems is built into it. If one were to examine this even on a personal level, one can see how everything about industrial society reduces personal time to the point where one often neglects their own emotional health. Against the demands of technological addiction and wage-slavery, making time for supporting one’s self and or those they care about is, however under-rated, nothing less than an act of personal revolt. “You need professional help” is often the quick response to an individual simply looking for support from close friends. Not all people (including myself) enjoy being pathologized or assigned a diagnosis like a broken machine. It is this ‘professional help’ that replaces intimate support with capitalism where someone struggling is treated as a profitable ‘case file’ and dealt a bottle of pills.

From a vibrant friend struggling with a unique history of complex emotional experiences, to a patient branded with an over-simplistic set of psychiatric identities – the individual becomes merely a unit of diagnostic measurement.

Diagnoses act as identity configurations defined in terms of symptom-based sameness. These identity assignments are constructed by the specialists of psychiatric authority, and are enforced socially by those who uphold its power. The same way that leftists are quick to use statist terminology to publicly label and shame “undesirables” or those unwanted by The Movement (for example, using the word “terrorist” to describe proponents of anarchist attack), they are equally quick to call people ‘mentally ill’, or ‘toxic’- demanding they seek ‘professional’ help. Perhaps without realizing it, leftists socially reinforce the validity of the state and psychiatric authority by reducing the complexity of individual behavior to mere psychiatric constructs and moral condemnation.

Psychiatry provides a comforting sense of order in the refusal to accept the chaotic nature of behavior. By asserting psychiatric terminology and morality many leftists seek control over social interactions with the intent to sterilize and homogenize them. This attempt at behavioral uniformity goes hand in hand with the treatment of individuals as members of monolithic, identity-based groupings. Behavioral uniqueness and variety are often discouraged or condemned when they don’t fit neatly constructed scripts. One’s behavior or emotional expression could be trivialized by being socially called out as ‘problematic’ - a label which itself requires the conformity of a generalized consensus to define and enforce.

Society and all its defenders require the dam of psychiatry to subordinate and control the tidal waves of individualist variety and social unrest. I can only imagine what would happen if the mechanisms of control failed on an individual level - if freedom of emotional expression took aim at the crystal castles of psychiatric authority, shattering the illusion of sterilized permanence. One after another an individual cannonball weakens the continuity of the structure, an ungovernable individual compromises the strength of collectivized subservience.

****

Jan 31, 2006 Riot at the Riverview Hospital For Children and Youth Five male patients at a state-run psychiatric hospital for children face rioting charges after they ripped out a phone line and tried to steal a worker's car keys before barricading themselves in a room over the weekend, a state official and other sources said Monday.

The incident at Riverview Hospital For Children and Youth occurred less than a week after employees protested over conditions in the facility, contending that the hospital is increasingly unsafe because of the volatile mix of patients.

Sources said that between 11 p.m. and midnight Sunday, a group of boys in the hospital's 11-bed Lakota Unit came out of their rooms and started confronting and arguing with staff. A male clinician and two female employees were assigned to the unit at the time.

Sources said the boys surrounded the man and tried to get him to turn over his keys but he refused. When one of the female workers tried to use the phone to call for help, the boys pulled the phone line out of the wall, sources said. The youths then barricaded themselves in a room and tried to smash a large exterior window, which broke off its hinge.

Sources said the boys intended to escape through the window but were stopped by a Connecticut Valley Hospital police officer who was called to the scene and was outside near the window .

Authorities would not release the names or ages of the boys involved. All face charges of inciting to riot, disorderly conduct, criminal mischief, unlawful restraint and threatening.

****

When, in expressing themselves, individuals let their emotions rupture the confines of psychiatric authority, and fan the flames of their contempt for social control, psychiatry begins to resemble the shell of a burnt out police car. If psychiatry is the agent enforcer of mental law and order - let it die along with every cop and agent of the state. As with identity politics, I refuse to participate in the use of psychiatric terminology when describing other individuals. As with all other socially constructed assignments, I reject psychiatric labels as they seek to limit the horizon of emotional complexity.

When, in expressing themselves, individuals become wild with nihilist hostility toward all ideological roles and identities, what is left of a society without individual conformity? What is ‘male’ or ‘female’ without being fixed to an aesthetic or performative role? What is ‘black’ or ‘white’ without the social construction of race? What is the sane/insane binary without the commanding authority of psychiatry? What is social law and order without anyone willing to obey?

My anarchy is found in the obliteration of these social constructs and the rejection of their ‘social contract’ that universalizes their false existence. I use the phrase social contract because that is precisely what accepting these identity assignments is. It surprises me to see such little prisoner solidarity with those incarcerated at psychiatric facilities. I imagine total anarchy looking like all prisons - including every manifestation of the educational-industrial complex, every zoo, and every asylum – being burned to the ground.

****

On New Year’s Day, 2018, 10 Children as Young as Age 12 Riot and Escape from Strategic Behavioral Health Center in South Carolina During the New Year’s Day incident, patients broke furniture to make weapons. The state report suggest Strategic staff missed warning signs that patients had planned to escape. They did not question residents who were wearing multiple layers of clothing that would allow them to change what they were wearing when they left the hospital.

In a less than five-hour span beginning in the late afternoon, there were seven “Code Purple” incidents in which workers are alerted to trouble. A state investigator reviewed video showing patients going from room to room, throwing a trash can, tearing up paper and tearing schedules off the walls. When one employee arrived, according to the report, he heard loud noises and cussing and saw trash all over the floor in the hallway. Patients had barricaded themselves in a room and had weapons he described as boards with six-inch screws.

“There was no staff trying to get into the room and he was told by staff, ‘They have weapons. Don’t go in,’” records say. “The nurse described the situation as a ‘riot, complete breakdown.’”

By the time police arrived, the south Charlotte psychiatric hospital had descended into chaos. Patients at Strategic Behavioral Center — some wielding wooden boards — attacked one worker, barricaded themselves in a room and escaped through a broken window.

**** For many years I paraded psychiatry as a valuable scientific instrument for understanding the inner workings of human behavior. I no longer find it useful after learning to recognize people as complex beings with unique emotional responses to this civilized nightmare. I have come to recognize psychiatry as, at best, another form of identity politics that ultimately attempts to force the infinite complexity of emotional expression into rigid categorical boxes.

Individual people are far more than ‘bipolar’, ‘psychotic’, etc could accurately express. While a person may experience combinations of emotions socially identified by a psychiatric category, their emotional state can not be summarized or represented by any list of fixed terminology.

My refusal to define a person by the emotional struggles they experience is similar to the reasons I refuse to identity people struggling with intoxication as ‘addicts’. An individual's struggle in coping with society is complex and unique. Psychiatric labels and identities are tools of the state – an entity which I reject. As a tool of civilization, psychiatry creates alienation and violence by treating people found to be emotionally unfit for society as ‘broken’, and therefore socially inferior. I personally refuse to disregard an individual’s struggle for survival by assigning them a psychiatric identity that puts blame on them as ‘mentally ill’ - rather than focusing attention on industrial society itself. Like prisons for ‘criminals’, the ‘correctional’ facility of the psychiatric ward seeks to condition submission through coercion and confinement. Solving or curing ‘mental illness’ in the societal sense often ends up becoming a re-defined ability to condemn, suppress, or sterilize emotions.

Like all governments, presidents, and authority, psychiatry never gave me freedom. Assigned psychiatric labels didn’t help me – they only filled me with an internalized sense of victimhood and inferiority. Medication didn’t ‘cure’ or ‘fix’ me – only damaged me, numbing me to my own senses in order to create an emotional void between me and the fuckery of civilized life. So instead, with nihilist celebration I descend into madness, taking aim at social order and civilization. With armed animalism I realize now that there was nothing to fix - my natural contempt for domestication and social control reminds me that I was never ‘broken’ to begin with.

With maniacal laughter I mock the conventional standardization of human behavior. I reject the authorities of psychiatry, their holy book (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM–5)), and their prisons. I refuse to continue being a test subject for their ever-expanding pharmacotherapeutics. I am an individualist against the collectivized consensus used to materialize institutions of psychiatry. I am a nihilist - hostile to the ideological sane/insane binary and all social constructs that, with pathology, attempt to categorically subjugate individuality. I desire nothing less than a feral revolt against civilization. If civilization and psychiatry marry at the church of morality, then let my anarchy be a fiery black smoke that chokes their gospel of social control.

#anarcho nihilism #anti civ #green anarchy #individualist anarchism #nihilism #post leftism #prisoner support #flower bomb #anti-psychiatry

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