#also my new symptom emerged at the eye doctor which at least for me is the weirdest spot to have a breakdown but it was warranted

[chronic-and-iconic]

Being chronically ill is such a weird experience. I’ve spent over 6 years of my life explaining to everyone I’ve met that I will be sick for the rest of my life. And yet somehow, having a new symptom pop up after a year of being stable with minimal flares, has devastated me. I don’t know why I assumed a life-long illness would be manageable by the time I turned 20 but that’s simply not the case.

[thelovelygods]

As a teenager, Sylvia Plath vividly understood the extent to which her body steered her. "If I didn't have sex organs, I wouldn't waver on the brink of nervous emotion and tears all the time," she wrote in her journal in 1950. Ten days before her death, she had come to believe that "fixed stars/Govern a life." It turns out that Plath was probably right -- more right than she could have possibly known -- about her biology and her fate. But when Plath's journals were first published in 1982, what was most obvious about her was the supercharged nature of her emotions. Whatever causal agents may have been governing Plath's life, they were blown back by the force of her personality.

As unmistakable as were Plath's volatile emotions in the 1982 journals, the heavy editing of the text necessarily made it hard to discern the patterns to her moods. Even so, there did seem to be a detectable pattern, and it did not seem then, nor had it seemed to the people closest to her during the last years of her life, to be merely a function of temperament. In the weeks before her suicide, Plath's physician, John Horder, noted that Plath was not simply deeply depressed, but that her condition extended beyond the boundaries of a psychological explanation.

In a letter years later to Plath biographer Linda Wagner-Martin, Horder stated: "I believe ... she was liable to large swings of mood, but so excessive that a doctor inevitably thinks in terms of brain chemistry. This does not reduce the concurrent importance of marriage break-up or of exhaustion after a period of unusual artistic activity or from recent infectious illness or from the difficulties of being a responsible, practical mother. The full explanation has to take all these factors into account and more. But the irrational compulsion to end it makes me think that the body was governing the mind."

For at least the past 10 years it has been generally assumed that Plath fit the schema of manic-depressive illness, with alternating periods of depression and more productive and elated episodes.

The hypothesis that Plath suffered from a bipolar disorder is persuasive. But in late 1990, another, even more intriguing medical theory emerged. Using the evidence of Plath's letters, poems, biographies and the 1982 journals, a graduate student named Catherine Thompson proposed that Plath had suffered from a severe case of premenstrual syndrome. In "Dawn Poems in Blood: Sylvia Plath and PMS," which appeared in the literary magazine Triquarterly, Thompson theorized that Plath's mood volatility, depressions, many chronic ailments and ultimately her suicide were traceable to the poet's menstrual cycles and the hormonal disruptions caused by PMS.

Thompson pointed out that Plath unwittingly recorded experiencing on a cyclical basis all of the major symptoms of PMS, as well as many others, including low impulse control, extreme anger, unexplained crying and hypersensitivity. She also suffered many of the physical symptoms associated with PMS, notably extreme fatigue, insomnia and hypersomnia, extreme changes in appetite, itchiness, conjunctivitis, ringing in the ears, feelings of suffocation, headaches, heart palpitations and the exacerbation of chronic conditions such as her famous sinus infections.

Thompson compared Plath's reported mood and health changes with the journals, letters and biographies and found that her symptoms seemed to appear and disappear abruptly on a fairly regular schedule, with clusters of physical symptoms and depressive affect followed by dramatic changes in outlook and overall physical health. Those patterns can be directly linked to the dates of Plath's actual menses, particularly in 1958 and 1959, when she most habitually noted her cycles. Judging from the pattern of Plath's depression and health in late 1952 and in 1953 until her Aug. 24 suicide attempt, Thompson posited that "it seems reasonable to conclude that this suicide attempt was directly precipitated by hormonal disruption during the late luteal phase of her menstrual cycle and secondarily by her loss of self-esteem at being unable to control her depression."

Thompson showed that a well-known journal entry from Feb. 20, 1956, is clearly traceable to Plath's menses, to which she refers directly a few days later. The journal fragment takes on new meaning in light of having been written during the physically and emotionally debilitating luteal phase of Plath's cycle: "Dear Doctor: I am feeling very sick. I have a heart in my stomach which throbs and mocks. Suddenly the simple rituals of the day balk like a stubborn horse. It gets impossible to look people in the eye: corruption may break out again? Who knows. Small talk becomes desperate. Hostility grows, too. That dangerous, deadly venom which comes from a sick heart. Sick mind, too." On Feb. 24, the same day she notes in her journal that she has a sinus cold and "atop of this, through the hellish sleepless night of feverish sniffling and tossing, the macabre cramps of my period (curse, yes) and the wet, messy spurt of blood," Plath wrote a letter to her mother blaming her dark mood on her physical health: "I am so sick of having a cold every month; like this time, it generally combines with my period."

By the fall of 1962, the poems (which Plath carefully dated as they were completed) seem to follow a pattern of metaphorical renewals and optimistic transformations for roughly two to three weeks of artistic production, then jagged, seething accusations and aggression for a couple of weeks.

Thompson's PMS theory has been largely ignored by Plath scholars. But it immediately gained two important supporters: Anne Stevenson, Plath's controversial biographer, and Olwyn Hughes, Plath's former sister-in-law, whose letters were published in a subsequent issue of Triquarterly. Though oddly defensive in tone, Stevenson's letter does commend Thompson for her "invaluable contribution to Plath scholarship ... Certainly no future study of Plath will be able to ignore the probable effects of premenstrual syndrome on her imagination and behavior." And it states that she wishes she had been able to utilize Thompson's insights in the writing of her own work on Plath.

A letter from Olwyn Hughes also congratulates Thompson for her scholarship, but unlike Stevenson, Hughes practically stumbles over herself in amazement at the PMS theory. Hughes, who was quoted in Janet Malcolm's book "The Silent Woman: Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes" as characterizing her long-dead sister-in-law as "pretty straight poison," wrote to Thompson: "It is quite a shock to digest all this -- after thinking for so long that Sylvia's subconscious mind was her prison, and to suddenly realise it may well have been in part, or wholly, her body. But it certainly tallies with Ted's mentions -- he has always felt some chemical imbalance was involved."

Hughes further points out that Ted Hughes had spoken of Plath's ravenous appetite just prior to her periods and asks, "I wonder if that is a known characteristic of PMS?" (According to the PMS literature, it is.) But most tellingly, Olwyn Hughes explains that "one of the reasons I was so bowled over by your piece is that Sylvia's daughter, very like her physically, suffers quite badly from PMS but is, in these enlightened times, aware of it and treats it."

Dr. Glenn Bair, one of the leading experts on PMS treatment and research in the United States, confirmed to Salon that PMS is typically passed from mother to daughter. In a rare interview about her parents, Frieda Hughes told the Manchester Guardian in 1997 that after the "collapse of her health," including extreme fatigue and gynecological problems, she underwent a hysterectomy in her 30s.

After a careful review of Thompson's article, of a seven-page monthly breakdown of Plath's symptoms for 1958 through 1959 and of the documented evidence of Plath's pregnancies and postpartum symptoms of 1959 through 1962, Bair said, "If you hack through the PMDD criteria, I think that you'll find that she fits the PMDD profile."

[woah-were-halfway-there]

Just What I Needed: Part 3

A/N: get ready for this freaking rollercoaster. As many of you know, this is the next part in the AFTR series and in typical me fashion, turn out way longer than I intended it to be. Enjoy. ☺️

Thank you my dear @andrei-svech​ for beta reading and listening to me yell about this.

Word Count: 12.8k... ffs

You knew you were awake. You sensed too much going on for you not to be, and yet, you still were unable to open your eyes.

"Do you know how far along she is in her pregnancy?" A female voice you didn't recognize spoke up, sounding much louder than the various beeps and shuffles you also heard.

"14 weeks," Auston replied, his voice husky. The way his voice sounded whenever he was really upset about something. "Closer to 15 weeks now. Do you know what caused this?"

"Fainting isn't uncommon with pregnant women," a male voice stated. "Dehydration, drops in blood pressure, there's a couple of different reasons as to why this could have happened. We won't know for sure, what exactly, until she sees a doctor."

"I'm more concerned over the fact that she hasn't woken up yet," the woman said.

That's when you decided you needed to open your eyes, and as soon as you did, your gaze fell on Auston.

He looked rough, and that's putting it nicely. His hair was messy, it was evident that he'd been running his hands through it like he always does when he's anxious, and his eyes were red and puffy. He was gripping onto your right hand as he watched another man and woman that were also in the small space as they did something off in a corner.

It was then you realized the man and woman were paramedics, and you were lying on a stretcher in an ambulance. Panic didn't take too long settling in after that.

"Auston?" Your voice cracked as you went stiff in realization and immediately gripped onto his hand for reassurance, his gaze moving to you right away. "Wait. Where's Mia?"

You went to sit up, suddenly on high alert after realizing your daughter wasn't with you but had to stop when you felt the now-familiar wave of lightheadedness wash over you again.

"Woah, take it easy, baby," Auston said as he gave you a look, silently pleading that you didn't fight him on this. You didn't. Instead, you slowly laid back down because you trusted that he would answer your question once you weren't so worked up, and he did. "Mia is ok. She's at home with my family. My parents are going to meet us at the hospital once you get checked over. I asked them to stay at the house to make sure Mia was ok after everything."

You nodded in response. What he said made you feel better in a way, but you were unable to keep your emotions from taking over still.

"Did she see me faint?" You asked quietly, blinking back the tears you felt welling up in your eyes as you did.

Auston paused, then sighed.

"She did."

"Shit."

Before Auston could respond again, and you could get too in your thoughts, the female paramedic approached the two of you cautiously and cleared her throat. Once you looked at her, she smiled softly before looking to Auston and nodding.

"Hi, Y/N," she greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Not great," you admitted as Auston lifted your hand that was still linked with his up to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles. "Tired. Kind of just want to be back home, to be completely honest."

"That's understandable. We're almost at the hospital. As soon as a doctor sees you and makes sure everything is ok, you should be able to go home very soon."

You smiled and nodded at her reassurance.

"Thank you. How long was I passed out for?"

"We weren't very far from your house when we got the call for you," the male paramedic chimed in. "Auston said you fainted, maybe five or six minutes before we got there. So about twenty minutes, give or take."

"Lovely," you sighed, then looked at Auston tiredly.

"You scared the shit out of me," he told you, not in a way to make you feel bad, but to let you know how genuinely worried he was about you. "Mia is probably pissed at me right now."

"Why would she be?"

"When she saw you faint, she was worried about you, but I panicked. I asked Bre to take her out of the room so she wouldn't have to see you like that, and she was so upset, babe. She was still crying when we left the house."

Your heart broke hearing that. Not only at the thought of Mia being upset after seeing you faint, but also how hard the entire situation must've been on Auston and his family.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, not being able to stop the tears welling in your eyes again. "I-I should've just gone to the hospital earlier when my doctor said she couldn't get me in until tomorrow. I knew something was wrong. I had that feeling, fuck!"

"Y/N, you had no way of knowing this is what would happen. Please don't be so hard on yourself," he reasoned with you while giving your hand another little squeeze. "I, uh, I kind of dropped a bomb on everyone too."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't how we wanted anyone to find out, but, in my panicked state, my mom was trying to calm me down, and without even thinking, I told her that you were pregnant again."

"To be fair, it's best that you did because we needed to know to be able to tend to her properly," the male paramedic spoke up again. "And, sorry to interrupt, but we are approaching the hospital."

"You ready?" Auston asked and reached towards you to gently push your hair out of your face. He then tried to give you a reassuring smile, although you could easily see through his facade.

It was apparent that he was as anxious as you were, but he had already been so brave and strong for you. The least you could do was be the same for him.

"As long as I have you by my side, I'm ready for anything."

Once you were taken into the hospital, it wasn't long before you were seeing a doctor. She was a lovely woman, but you couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable because you hated going to the hospital. You much preferred going to your own doctor. You always felt comfortable with her regardless of the situation, whereas anything else felt foreign. But luckily, you had Auston there.

At first, the E.R. doctor was a little confused by what would've caused your fainting. She was able to see how your last doctor's appointment went and that you seemed to be in perfect health. She then read how low your blood pressure was from when the paramedics checked it in the ambulance while you were still passed out. That was pretty concerning.

She explained to you and Auston that your fainting could've been caused by Dehydration, which was most common, but she wanted to test your blood to see if anything else came up. And sure enough, something did.

The doctor was able to get you a rapid test, so about half an hour after she finished taking some blood, she came back into the room and explained that your blood had a lower than average amount of red blood cells, which is tied to iron deficiency. In other words, you were diagnosed with anemia.

Being told that absolutely terrified you. It was the last thing you wanted to hear, and with the way Auston was physically pale when you glanced over at him, you could tell he was feeling the same way.

However, the doctor then explained how your anemia was more than likely just related to your pregnancy. It was more than likely that it would no longer be an issue once your baby was born, but it did pose some possible negative effects on the baby if not treated properly.

Your chances of having a premature birth, a baby with low birth weight, as well as postpartum depression, were much higher because of this. Again, not something you or Auston wanted to hear, but the doctor quickly said how the addition of an iron supplement with your prenatal vitamins should help keep things relatively at bay. She said it was likely that you may still feel dizziness, fatigue and other symptoms at times throughout your pregnancy, but keeping your iron levels up would help that. She then told you to see your doctor still the following day and said to take things easy before running a quick ultrasound to check on the baby.

Roughly an hour and a half after you arrived at the hospital, you were allowed to finally go back home, which was the best news you'd heard all night.

Not many words were exchanged between you and Auston as the two of you sat in the waiting room until his parents got there to pick you both up. There wasn't much that could be said. The two of you were still processing everything you had just been told, and it was a damn hard pill to swallow. So, instead of talking about it, the two of you sat in silence. You leaned against each other for the support neither of you could give verbally at the time.

The moment Ema and Brian entered the emergency room, you broke down. You knew, as a mother herself, Ema would understand how you were feeling, and it was not long before she was rushing over to you and Auston, then pulling you into her embrace.

Auston was the one to explain the news as you just cried it out a little bit, while Ema let you hold onto her. She kept assuring that everything was going to be ok, but for the first time in a long time, you were almost positive it wasn't.

That feeling of dread you already had was much more prominent than before, and now Auston was feeling something similar as well.

You both apologized to his parents for them finding out about the new baby the way that they did, but Brian quickly shut that down by telling you and Auston that it didn't matter how they found out. All that mattered was that you were ok, and so was the baby.

Neither of you could argue with that, and soon after, the four of you agreed it was time to go home and headed to the car.

When you all got back to the house, you were surprised to learn that Mia was asleep. It was close to an hour before her usual bedtime, but after you and Auston walked through the front and entered the living room, you found her passed out while laying against Alex on the couch.

"She just fell asleep," Auston's older sister spoke quietly as she greeted you both with a small smile and started gently rubbing Mia's head. "She was so exhausted. I didn't have the heart even to try to keep her awake."

"No, it's ok. Thank you," you replied softly, but before you could say anything else, Bre was bursting into the room and pulling you into a hug.

"Oh, my god, Y/N," she said as you hugged her back, then pulled away to look at you again. "How are you feeling? Are you alright?"

"Better now that I'm home with you guys," you told her, then bent down to pet Frank, who was looking up at you excitedly.

As you talked with her, Auston hung both of your coats up in the foyer's closet before coming back into the living room and gently picking up Mia.

Even in her sleeping state, Mia cuddled right up against her dad as he held her against his chest and your heart swelled when he turned back to look at you and Bre.

"I'll go put her to bed," he whispered, trying hard not to wake her up. But, before he walked past you and Bre, he stopped when he saw you looking at Mia. You smiled at him thankfully, because you knew that he stopped so you could kiss Mia goodnight, like you always did.

When you looked at her all snuggled in Auston's arms as she slept, you could feel yourself getting emotional. Immediately, you noticed how her eyes were still a little wet from what you assumed was her crying, which absolutely broke your heart. You hated that with everything you went through that night, Mia also suffered from it and some way. However, as you felt yourself beginning to get worked up over it, you took a deep breath to let yourself calm down, then leaned in to push some of Mia's little curls away from her face and placed a soft peck on her forehead.

"Goodnight, baby girl," you said quietly, then looked to Auston before reaching up to peck his lips too. "I love you."

"And I love you," he responded before kissing you again then glancing at his two sisters. "I'll be right back."

You watched him leave the room, then you and Bre joined Alex on the couch and began properly catching up, seeing as you hadn't been able to do that yet.

The two of them, along with Ema and Brian, were thrilled about the news about you being pregnant, which you knew they would be, but you were still really bummed over how they found out about their new family member. However, no one dwelled on that at all or pressed you about what you were told at the hospital. Instead, you were able to cuddle on the couch with your husband as you watched ELF with his family before eventually calling it a night.

~*~

The following day, Christmas Eve Eve, was rather hectic. But not necessarily in a bad way.

When you woke up, no one else was awake yet. The house was quiet, and there was no sound coming from Mia's room through the monitor. All that could be heard was the small breaths Auston let out as he slept next to you and the groan Frank made as he shifted his position from where he laid at the end of your bed.

Everything was peaceful and felt right. It was exactly what you needed after everything that happened the night before, but that soon changed.

As you waited for a sign of someone else being awake, you reached over to grab your phone from where it rested on your bedside table and opened up Twitter. You were scrolling for all of three seconds before realizing that 'Auston Matthews' was trending.

Curious about what could be trending regarding your husband, you clicked on a thread to see what it was all about. Surprisingly, a lot of it was about you.

It turned out that your trip to the hospital the night before didn't go unnoticed. A handful of tweets said how you and Auston were seen at Toronto Western Hospital, including one saying how the two of you arrived in an ambulance and how you were on a stretcher.

The majority of the tweets were people commenting, wondering what happened, and wishes that everything was ok. But, there were also some downright mean ones. Some people commented on your appearance, saying that you looked awful and how you were lucky to be Canadian; otherwise, Auston would've probably been covering the hospital bill.

Usually, you never paid attention to anything that was being said about you. These people knew nothing about your life and were indeed in no position to be saying anything, which you knew, but reading those things made you feel like shit. And you hated that you were actually letting them get to you.

But, soon enough, someone diverted your attention.

"Baby?" Auston asked, sounding very sleepy as he shifted next to you but still managing to make you jump at the sudden noise. "Everything alright?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," you lied and quickly closed out of the app before moving to face him. "Everything's fine."

"Are you sure? You seem a little flustered."

"Yes, babe, it's nothing to worry about."

"Ok," he responded unsurely, but dropped it as he subtly wrapped his arm around your waist then pulled towards him forcefully.

"Auston!" You gasped as you gripped onto his shoulder with one hand and bicep with the other so you could balance yourself out, but quickly realized he did that so you'd be hovering over him with very little space between the two of you. "Smooth."

"Always," he replied with a smirk, then began placing kisses along your shoulder, collarbone and neck.

He didn't stop until he reached your jawline and was able to see how much what he was doing affected you in the best way possible as your eyes fluttered close and you leaned into his touch. Feeling rather smug with himself, he then put his arm around your waist again and quickly flipped the two of you over so that your back would be on the mattress and he would be on top.

As soon as you looked up at him, he gave you a playful smirk and was about to continue, but then a noise began filling the room.

"Mama?" Mia's voice sounded through the monitor resting on Auston's bedside table as you and him both froze and looked towards the device. Sounds of shuffling and the odd grumble could be heard, making it rather apparent that your daughter was awake, but then she started crying. "Mommy!"

"Shit," you and Auston said at the same time as you both scrambled off the bed then rushed down the hall to Mia's bedroom, even gaining enough of Frank's attention that he followed after the two of you.

Once you pushed open the door to Mia's bedroom, you found her standing up in her crib, sniffling as she cried and tiredly rubbing at her eyes. Without a second thought, you beelined right for her and picked her up, making sure to give her a comforting squeeze as she immediately clung to you.

"It's ok, sweetheart. I'm here," you soothed as you began gently rubbing her back. "Mommy's here."

"Where go, mama?" She asked as she leaned against your shoulder and hugged you closer, then looked to where Auston was standing nearby but said nothing more.

"I just needed to go see a doctor, Mia. But it's ok. I won't leave you again, ok? I promise."

"Ok."

Auston watched the two of you interact and couldn't help but smile. He loved that you and Mia loved so much. Seeing the two most important girls in his life being as lovey and soft as you and Mia were made him feel all types of ways. You both were his entire world, and he was content just seeing a moment like that forever if he could, but then he remembered all that had to be done that day.

"Hey, Mini," he spoke up and reached towards her. "Why don't we go brush our teeth, then go eat breakfast?"

"No, daddy," she stated firmly as he went to take her from your hold, but she held onto you even tighter, instead. "I stay with mommy."

Both you and Auston were shocked by this. It was probably the first time Mia had ever just flat out denied any type of snuggles from her dad, and it was just so strange to see. Without even voicing it, you and Auston gave each other a look as if to say you knew she was giving him the cold shoulder because of what happened the night prior.

It sucked because you knew that your daughter didn't understand what was going on and that she still wouldn't even if you tried to explain it all right then in there. Telling Mia about pregnancy and how she was going to be a big sister soon had to be a gradual thing. So, with one more glance at each other and a slight nod, you and Auston silently agreed to just move on from the subject.

"Why don't we all go brush our teeth, and then I'll make you some pancakes, little miss," you suggested and kissed her head. "We have a long day ahead of us."

And you really did.

After the three of you got ready to go downstairs, Auston's family helped the two of you cook a huge breakfast for you all to eat. It was a great way to start off the day, but soon after, Auston had to leave for practice in preparation for the Leafs game that night.

Once he was gone, you planned to see your doctor, then pick up your family from the airport before you all were supposed to go to the game together. You were really excited, and Mia didn't leave your side for any of it.

Your doctor's appointment ended up being ok. You were told more about your anemia condition based on the doctor's bloodwork done at the hospital during it. Once that was established, your doctor then recommended some iron supplements for you to take with your prenatal vitamins and explained how she'd be checking your blood pressure very closely at every appointment from then on.

She also took time to check in with you and how you were doing. Her main question was if you'd been in contact with your therapist at all lately, to which you replied with how you talked to your therapist at least once a month still, but more frequently if you felt the need to. Your doctor was happy to hear that. She was the one that recommended you to your therapist almost ten years ago when you were a teenager, after all. You first met your therapist when you were seventeen and had been going to her ever since.

Then your doctor went on to tell you how she hoped you continued going to therapy, especially if everything going on with your pregnancy or just life, in general, was too much. You promised her that you would, and your appointment concluded soon after.

Having a conversation like that usually would make you uncomfortable. But since it was your doctor, the one you'd been going to since you were a kid, it made it all a lot easier. Having Mia and Ema there for moral support helped, too, especially with Auston being at practice.

Once you were done there, it was time to head to the airport and finally see your family.

Since the summer of 2017, when you and Auston had been dating for about six months, you've been the only one of your family that still lived in the Greater Toronto Area, and even then, you were only there during hockey season and a little bit at the end of offseason. You and your family loved Toronto. You always have.

Growing up, you lived in a small town on the outskirts of the GTA, then moved to downtown Toronto in 2015 when you were 18 and starting school at UofT. A year later, your younger sister Mya moved to Vancouver to begin school at UBC, then a year after that, Nate, the baby of the family, regardless of him only being two years younger than you, moved to Montreal. As your brother was in the process of moving, a job opportunity came up for your dad in B.C. and soon after, he was moving out west as well.

However, Ontario has always been home to your family. Every year at Christmas time, your family always finds a way to be together for the holiday season and continue your tradition of going on your annual skiing/snowboarding trip.

Two years prior, while you were still very pregnant with Mia, you all went to Mont-Tremblant in Quebec. The year after, during Mia's first Christmas season, everyone was in Vancouver for a few days, but now it was time for your family to be back home again, and you were so ready.

Although you kept in constant contact with your family when you weren't with them, it wasn't even comparable to how you felt when you were all together, so to say you were excited as you drove to the airport to pick them up would've been an understatement.

After your doctor's appointment, you took Ema back to the house just as Auston was getting home from practice, then headed to the airport with Mia to see your family.

You were holding Mia as you waited at the gates, telling her how her grandpa, auntie Mya and uncle Nate would all be there very soon and couldn't keep the tears from welling in your eyes when you saw them walking through the gate with their luggage. Mia started squirming in your hold excitedly, and for the first time that day, she bolted away from you as soon as you set her down and beelined towards your dad.

"Pa!"

"Ah, there's my girl!" He greeted as he let go of his suitcase, then leaned down to pick Mia up. "How are you, Miss Amelia?"

"Good," Mia replied with a smile, then hugged him tightly. "Christmas!"

"Yes, Merry Christmas!"

"Uh, excuse me, what are you still doing over there?" Mya said to you and held her arms open so the two of you could hug. "Hey, babe. Missed you."

"I missed you more," you told your little sister as you squeezed her, then pulled back to see Nate looking at you expectantly.

"Ehm," he cleared his throat and opened his arms too. "Are you forgetting about your favourite brother?"

"You're saying that like I have many choices in the matter," you told him with a pointed look, then moved away from Mya to go hug your brother too. "Missed you too, kid."

"Tee!" Mia then squealed as she reached towards Mya and Nate shortly after.

"Mia!" They exclaimed excitedly as they took her from your dad's hold, then you were able to hug him too.

"Hi, Dad," you smiled as he held you close for a minute.

"Hi, sport. How're you feeling?" He asked, making you smile hearing the nickname he's called you for as long as you could remember, but then gave him a knowing look.

"Auston told you, didn't he?"

"He called me while you were in the ambulance last night," your dad replied, then glanced at Mya and Nate as they started bickering over who was going to hold Mia and lowered his voice. "Congratulations, kiddo. Auston also filled me in on what the doctor said. I want you to know that we're all going to be here to help out if you need it, especially with Mia. Those two still don't know. I haven't said anything either. I figured you wanted to tell them about Mia's little sibling your own way."

"I do," you told him. "I wanted to tell you and Auston's family differently too, but I'm glad Aus called you when everything happened. I want to tell Mya and Nate tomorrow when we're with Mitchy and Steph too for Christmas."

"Fair enough, I'm sure they'll give you shit."

"I'd expect nothing less."

You then drove your family to where they'd be staying for the next two days. Usually, they'd stay at your house. Even with Auston's family, there was still room for the three of them, but this year, they stayed with Alice, your dad's girlfriend. You have adored Alice since you met her during your first Christmas with Auston as boyfriend and girlfriend back in 2017. Sadly, your mom passed away when you were thirteen, and it took years for your dad even to begin putting himself out there again in the dating pool. He always stressed to you, Mya and Nate that no one could ever replace your mother, which the three of you knew. Still, you all also understood that he was lonely and with the fact that he had given the three of you the world, the least you owed him was to not get in the way of him possibly finding happiness again.

Even with that, it took seven years after your mother's passing for him to find someone even worth considering bringing around his kids. However, Alice was amazing. You and your siblings have loved her since you met her, and now six years later are all still very glad to have her in your lives.

Your dad and Alice began their relationship shortly after he moved to Vancouver. They had worked together in Toronto a couple of years earlier until she moved to B.C., and they just so happened to cross paths again. However, Alice's family still lives in the GTA but vacation in Florida every winter.

This year, for a Christmas gift, you, Auston, Mya, Mya's boyfriend Seth, Nate and his girlfriend Sydney all pitched in so your dad and Alice could go to Florida for a few weeks and visit with her family a bit while they were there. The six of you told them what their gift was early, so they were prepared, seeing as the flight was booked for Christmas Day, and then your dad and Alice ended up booking a little beach house to stay in during those three weeks that had three extra rooms. Unfortunately, Seth and Sydney were unable to join, and the plan was for you and Mia to go for a week as well, but you decided against it because of how poorly you'd been feeling and lied, saying it was because you were swarmed with work.

Your dad understood and now gets it even more since he knows of your pregnancy, but Mya and Nate thought you were full of shit.

However, the timing was still perfect.

Alice arrived in Toronto the night before and was staying at her relatives' vacant home, which had more than enough room for your dad, Mya and Nate to stay at as well. The four of them were joining you, Mia, Auston's family and Steph in a box you booked at SBA to watch the game that night. The next day, everyone, including Mitch, Steph, and your cousin Chris, trekked up to Collingwood to stay at Blue Mountain Village and continue your family's snowboarding tradition during the holidays. Even Auston's family was joining, and you were so excited to have the most important people in your life around this Christmas. Late on Christmas Day, your dad, Alice, Nate and Mya were all to catch a late flight to Tampa and begin their vacation.

You were pretty excited about it all but more so happy to share your news about the new little babe you were growing with the loved ones who didn't find out because you fainted.

After a brief visit with Alice, you told your family you'd see them at the game, then you and Mia headed back home again. Auston was there once you arrived, and it wasn't long until he and Mia were having a quick nap on the couch together while Alex and Bre took Frank for a walk, and you chatted with Brian and Ema in the kitchen.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty chill, but soon enough, Auston had to leave to get to the arena, and the rest of you had to start getting ready to go there as well.

Before you went to the arena, you got yourself and Mia all dressed up in your matching Matthews jerseys and Maple Leafs Santa hats before you joined everyone else downstairs and headed out. But not without getting a few pictures taken in front of your massive Christmas tree first.

Your evening at the Leafs game was nothing short of amazing, even though you most definitely felt a little tired.

You loved every moment of being able to cheer on your man and the other guys with both your family and Auston's together. The fact that they all got along meant the absolute world to you, too, and your time at the game was just really enjoyable. Steph came and watched the game with all of you. Still, the two of you dipped for a few minutes during the third period because other wives and girlfriends of players who were also present at the game wanted to get one last group picture before the New Year—seeing as everyone got pretty messy at the girl's Christmas party a couple of weeks earlier. You were sober for that, and even you still looked like a hot mess.

After the game, you all waited for Auston and Mitch before heading home. The guys you saw as they walked by were all in good moods after the win they'd just got, but all stopped and made sure to say hi to you, Mia and Steph as they passed.

A couple of minutes later, Auston and Mitch entered the hallway at the same time and lit right up when they saw everyone. But then you observed as Mitchy glanced at Auston briefly then started racing towards where you stoop with Mia.

"Hi, Meems!" Your cousin said excitedly as he picked his goddaughter up and made her start giggling like crazy as she hugged him. He then smiled at you and gave Steph a quick peck before turning to face your dad, Mya and Nate and greeted them excitedly, still holding onto Mia.

"Why must everyone just steal our daughter before I even get the chance to see her?" Auston grumbled teasingly as he came up beside you and smoothly wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss, then leaned down to smirk at you. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself," you smiled back, then leaned against him. "To be fair, Mitch was just faster than you there."

"I can honestly say I wasn't expecting him to break out into a sprint just to get to her first."

"Would you expect anything less, though?" Steph asked with a chuckle from where she stood beside you, then resumed her conversation with Alex.

"Valid point," Auston said with a nod, then kissed your head before moving away and walking towards your family. "Time to visit my favourite in-laws."

You felt as though your heart could burst watching him interact with your family, even feeling yourself getting a little teary-eyed as you observed them. Sure, it was more than likely the pregnancy hormones, but you were also just so freaking happy. Moments like this made you forget about everything else going on, and you loved it.

It seemed that Ema noticed this too because a few short moments later, she was standing next to you, nudging your shoulder with hers and smiling before pulling you in for a little side hug.

Shortly after that, everyone grouped together to discuss the plans for Christmas Eve and then soon called it a night. You hugged Mitch, Steph and your family goodbye, telling them you'd see them tomorrow at Blue Mountain before heading to the parking lot with Auston, Mia and his family, still smiling because everything just felt right. And you really needed that.

~*~

Everyone was awake early in the Matthews house the following day, full of excitement for Christmas Eve and for what the day's events entailed before embarking on the almost two-hour drive to the ski resort.

You, Mia, Auston and his family were the first ones to arrive at Blue Mountain out of the entire group and immediately started getting settled into your accommodations. Your little family of three had a room to yourselves, with Alex and Bre in the room across the hall and Auston's parents in the one next door on the left. The room next door on the right was going to be where Mitch, Steph and Chris stayed and had a conjoining door that could be opened up to connect the two rooms. It was pretty obvious those two rooms would be where everyone was hanging out later that evening. But further down the hall were the two rooms your dad and Alice, Nate and Mya would be staying in.

About an hour later was when everyone else began arriving.

Mitch claimed they took forever because when they stopped by his parents' house to drop off Zeus, your aunt Bonnie just wouldn't stop talking. She had to catch up with Nate and Mya right then and there even though she would be seeing them and your dad the next day for Christmas. You understood, though, because when you were talking to her that morning as you dropped off Frank, lucky that she agreed to watch him for the night, the two of you talked for quite a bit, so you could only imagine how badly she wanted to speak with your brother and sister who haven't been back in town for months.

Once everyone was settled, Nate, Mya, Mitch, Chris, and Steph were dead set on getting to the slopes to begin your family's tradition properly, and that's when you started panicking. When you didn't start getting ready right away, they knew something was up, and the fact that you stayed quiet confirmed that even more.

"Y/N, why aren't you getting ready?" Nate asked as he peaked his head through the doorway connecting yours and Mitch's room.

"I, uh, I think I might sit this one out, guys," you replied sheepishly. To be completely honest, you didn't know if it was safe to snowboard while pregnant or not. Sure, you were pretty good at snowboarding and didn't think you'd wipe out, but that didn't mean there still wasn't a chance that you could and end up causing harm to yourself and your baby.

"Excuse me?" Chris said before sticking his head through the doorway too. "The hell do you mean you 'might sit this one out', Y/N?"

"Well, I-."

"It's tradition," Mya cut you off from where she sat on the couch in your's and Auston's room.

"I, I don't know," you responded. "I guess I can go down one hill, but maybe just an intermediate one and no racing."

"That's no fun," Nate groaned dramatically before disappearing out of sight.

"Babe," Auston spoke up from where he stood a couple of feet away, putting on Mia's snow pants and coat. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He then gave you a look, silently asking you to reconsider because you knew he'd be stressing out the entire time you were up on that hill.

"I think if I stick to an easy hill, I'll be fine, Aus," you explained to him softly so no one else besides Bre and Alex, who were sitting next to you, would hear. "If I was earlier in my pregnancy, I wouldn't even consider it, but I'm 15 weeks, babe, and not to sound cocky, but I don't think I'm going to wipe out."

"But-."

"I promise I'll only do one. If I didn't feel well enough to do it or was worried, I wouldn't. Ok?"

"Ok," he sighed and nodded in agreement. "But if something happens, babe."

"Try not to think about it like that," you replied and stood up to walk towards him and Mia. "Have a little faith in my skills."

"I do. And I mean, you're definitely better at snowboarding than I am."

"That's because you're my Desert Boy," you told him, then leaned down to peck his lips before he could say anything else, smirking because you knew he hated when you called him that.

"Why do you only want to do an intermediate hill?" Mitch asked as he strolled into the room but stopped briefly to compliment Mia on her puffy pink coat before looking back at you. "Pretty sure last year you said, and I quote, 'it's too easy. Where's the challenge?' Right?"

You didn't know how to respond. There was no way you were just flat out going to say it was because you were pregnant, and you struggled coming up with an excuse. But luckily for you, Bre saved your ass.

"It's because us Arizonians aren't used to this, and Y/N promised she wouldn't show us up," Auston's younger sister spoke up, then winked at you.

"Thank you," you told her quietly.

"Ok, that's fair," Nate replied and came into the room too. "The Canadians have a bit of an advantage here, I guess."

"Speak for yourself," Steph scoffed from the other room. "The only reason I'm no longer afraid of the ski lift is because you all have dragged me on it so many times now."

"You and me both, Steph," Auston piped in, then stood up from his kneeling position in front of Mia. "Wow, Mini, you look great. Are you ready to go on the mountain coaster?"

"Yeah!" Your daughter replied excitedly, then ran into the other room.

"I guess we shouldn't keep her waiting," Alex suggested, to which everyone agreed with, and you all soon made your way outside.

Once the group of you were all dressed for the cold, you went down to the resort lobby and dispersed. The kids made their way to the ski hills while Ema and Brian wandered around the village with your dad and Alice.

As soon as you arrived at the foot of the hill with all of your gear, Auston asked if you were sure you would be ok doing this, and you assured him that you would be.

You then made your way over to the ski lift and braced yourself for what was to come. Mia stayed at the bottom of the hill with Alex, but not without cheering you and Auston on, of course.

"Go, mommy! Go, daddy!" She called after the two of you and waved with Alex as she watched you go.

You then got on one of the ski lift chairs with Auston and Bre and waited patiently to be taken up to the top. Once you got off the lift and everyone was grouped together, you, Nate, Mya, Mitch and Chris all took your annual hilltop cousin group picture, as well as some others.

There were some nice photos taken of you with your siblings, a couple with Steph, as well as a few with Bre. Nate managed to capture a typical picture of you and Mitch where he was laughing, and you looked like you were ready to throat punch him. But your favourite photo was one that Bre took.

As everyone was figuring out which hill they wanted to go on after this one, you shuffled over to Auston, then wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned against his chest as you waited. He responded by wrapping his arms around your middle too so that he could hold you close. Then he leaned his head on top of yours and looked down towards the bottom of the hill. Steph then went over to Bre and pointed out the cute little moment happening between you and Auston, and your sister-in-law was quick at snapping a picture so that the moment would be saved forever.

Shortly after that, you all snowboarded down the hill. Mitch and Nate showed off a bit, and Auston tried to but got a little shaky in doing so. You made it to the bottom without issue but didn't want to risk going down again because, realistically, you didn't know what could happen out there and would much rather be safe than sorry.

The rest of them went down different ski trails while you hung out with Mia and let Alex have a turn going up the hill as well. As you and Mia waited, you noticed the rental spot for skis and snowboards, and since there wasn't much else to do, you decided to go rent a tiny snowboard for Mia to see how she would take to the activity.

After you got her all geared up and standing on the board, you started pulling her around.

"Look at you go, Mia, you're a natural," you told her with a smile.

"Look at me, go!" She repeated while giggling as she continued staying firm in her standing position while you pulled the rope attached to the board.

About twenty minutes later, you found a very tiny pile of snow that barely had a slope, but it was still something and gave you an idea.

"Alright, babe, want to try all by yourself?" You asked and looked down at your daughter. She didn't answer you. Instead, she just looked up at you unsurely. "It's going to be ok, sweets. I won't let you fall."

"Ok, mama," she replied hesitantly but did not indicate that she didn't trust you.

You then pulled her up the small snowbank and positioned her at the top where the slope began. Once you were done doing that, you crouched down next to Mia so that the two of you would be face to face.

"Are you ready?" You asked and couldn't help but smile as she lit right up and nodded.

"Yeah!"

"Ok, give me five," you replied and held out your hand, which she quickly smacked her mitten-covered hand against in attempts to give you a high-five. "Full send?"

"Full send, mommy!"

At that, you chuckled, then leaned over to kiss her head before shuffling down the slope. Once you reached where the rope ended, you looked at your daughter again before grabbing it and started tugging slightly.

Once Mia was over the edge of where the slope began, you let go of the rope and let her slide down all on her own. You shuffled down the hill backwards, making sure to be there if she did fall, but she made it to the bottom without issue and was so proud of herself.

"Woah!" She gasped and looked at you, excitedly.

"Good job, baby!" You told her, but loud cheering and hollering sounded from nearby before you could say anything else.

"Shred-it, Mia!" Nate exclaimed, making you look over to see everyone approaching the two of you again, all of them grinning widely.

"Good job, Mini!" Auston beamed as he was the first to reach you, then quickly scooped up Mia and held her close. "And here I thought you might act more Arizonian than Ontarian."

"Well, she was born here," Mitchy argued. "Don't downplay her half-Canadianness."

"She's already better at snowboarding than I am," Alex added in, making everyone laugh.

"Pretty soon, she's going to show all of us up," Chris stated.

Mia couldn't stop smiling while being surrounded by all of her people and hearing their compliments. Shortly after that, Mitchy pulled her back up to the top of the snowbank so she could go down once more, then you all headed back into the resort to warm up and get ready to go find the rest of the family.

A couple of hours later, after the whole group got together for dinner, everyone was gathered in your and Auston's room just hanging out. Your room was pretty big, but with Mitch and Steph's room being connected, it allowed much more space, and no one was cramped.

No one stayed dressed up for this. You all changed into comfy clothes without having the need to impress anyone but still managed to pull off a surprise when yours and Auston's family arrived at your room to find you, him and Mia all dressed in matching Christmas pyjamas.

Everyone then started sipping on some alcoholic beverages, minus you and Mia, of course, and as the night progressed, you started feeling more and more ready to tell the rest of your family that you were pregnant again.

Your siblings, Mitch, Steph and Chris, were all aware that you hadn't been feeling well lately, and they never pressed you about it, even though they didn't know why. They knew that whatever wasn't making you feel well was more than just one thing, but they knew you'd tell them when you were ready to. So, when you expressed that you didn't want to drink that night, none of them gave you a hard time even though Steph had a gut feeling about something.

It eventually got to the point where you just didn't want to wait any longer. You were having so much fun with the people you loved the most and were unable to keep your secret anymore.

You subtly made your way over to where Auston was standing, holding Mia as he talked with Chris in the corner of the room by the Christmas tree, and wasted no time cuddling right up next to him.

"Hi, mommy," Mia greeted, noticing you before anyone else but soon had Auston turning to look over his shoulder, smiling as soon as he saw you.

"Hey, babe," Auston said and welcomed your cuddles.

"Sorry to interrupt," you stated, then looked to your cousin, who also just smiled in return while watching you, Auston and Mia together.

"You didn't interrupt," Chris replied. "But I'll be right back. I'm going to go grab another drink."

Once it was just your little family of three, you looked up to Auston and bit down on your bottom lip while trying to contain the massive grin you could feel forming.

"What's up?" Your husband asked, knowing that you were getting excited about something.

"I want to tell them."

"Right now?"

"Yeah," you answered. "I think I'm ready."

"Then I'm ready, too," he stated, which made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"What are you three over there talking about?" Mya spoke up as she approached the three of you.

With one final glance at Auston, the two of you nodded at each other, then you moved away from him slightly so that you could both face everyone else.

"Well, there's something that we wanted to tell all of you," you told Mya but managed to capture everyone else's attention too.

"Wait!" You heard Mitch yell from the other room, then a moment later, he was bursting through the doorway and letting out a dramatic breath. "Ok, proceed."

You smiled and braced yourself for what was to come.

When it came to announcing your pregnancy with Mia, it was all a little chaotic and nothing was planned well. Which was fine, but you wanted the announcing of this little bean to be more fun and exciting. Unfortunately, that plan was partially ruined when you fainted in front of Auston's family, but you knew they were excited and knew that your family would be just as stoked, which is why you wanted to get creative with how you told them.

Growing up, for the longest time, you didn't really understand pregnancy, seeing as you were so young when your mom was pregnant with both Mya and Nate. You were never able to remember who put that idea in your head, but you used to believe how a woman got pregnant was by eating a watermelon seed, and then a baby grew in their belly because of it. Eventually, you grew out of that and understood what it actually meant to become pregnant, but your family has never let you live it down.

When you showed Mya and Nate your pregnant belly when you were expecting Mia, one of the first things your brother asked was if you ate watermelon, and it's also just something members of your family will always bring up just to tease you about.

You told Auston this story when he was confused by why so many people talked about watermelon as you were pregnant the first time, and he found it absolutely hilarious. His family did, too, so you thought that would be a fun thing to incorporate into announcing this pregnancy.

A couple of weeks prior was when you attempted to tell Mia about how she would be a big sister in a few months. She didn't understand, and both you and Auston knew you'd both have to be gradual and patient when it came to helping her understand what that meant. After you told her, she asked how you were pregnant, and before you could even say anything, Auston told her that you ate watermelon and you wanted to die of embarrassment because you knew that was just something you'd never be able to live down.

"The anticipation is killing me," Steph spoke up, snapping you from your train of thought but also making you grin even wider than before.

"Mini, can you tell everyone what your mommy ate?" Auston asked your daughter as he looked down at her, then pointed to her tummy so that she'd understand what he was referring to.

"Mommy ate watermelon," she said casually, then jumped when a series of excited gasps sounded from around the room.

"SHUT UP!" Nate was the first to say something, making Auston's family and your dad laugh, while everyone else looked at you completely flabbergasted.

"Are you kidding?" Mya asked and stepped even closer. "This isn't some kind of sick joke, is it?"

"It's not," you confirmed, your voice cracking as you let out a small laugh and started crying as your sister engulfed you in a tight hug.

Soon enough, another pair of arms were wrapping around you and Mya, holding you both tightly as they did so. They laid their head right on top of yours with ease, and a deep laugh rippled through their chest. You knew it had to be your brother.

"This is insane. Congratulations, Y/N," Nate said.

"Meems, you're going to be a big sister!" Mitchy told Mia as he took her from Auston's arms so your brother and sister could move on to congratulating him too. Once he had Mia, he looked at you and shook his head but had the biggest smile as he pulled you in for a hug. "Congrats, twin. Oh, my god."

"I knew something was up!" Steph squealed as she tackled you in a hug next. "Please, I'm so happy for you, babe."

You then received a hug from both Chris and Alice after that, who were extremely happy for you and Auston. Shortly after that, Ema ran to her room to bring back bottles of wine for everyone to crack into for a congratulatory toast kind of thing. She made sure to give you a glass of sparkling cider instead as everyone cheered on your growing family, making you even more emotional as you leaned into Auston's chest as a way to hide the fact that you were bawling your eyes out.

Later that night, after everyone had wandered off to bed, you and Auston were still awake wrapping the Christmas gifts you brought to give to your loved ones in the morning. Mia was passed out on her little travel bed on the other side of the room next to yours and Auston's bed, while the two of you were all giggly and teasing with each other as you attempted to get everything done.

Auston was a little buzzed from the alcohol he consumed earlier, and even though you were sober, you just fed off his energy, and the two of you were just having a lot of fun.

"Would you quiet down?" You whispered after he made a particularly cheeky but loud comment. "You're going to wake Mia up."

"It's Christmas, babe," he replied as he stuck his tongue out at you. "Loosen up a bit."

You rolled your eyes at him but still smiled as he leaned over to change the song that was softly playing from his phone nearby. Whenever Mia was going to sleep, she always preferred to listen to music as she did. So, you and Auston made a little playlist she listens to fall asleep to every night that's made up of very soft and soothing music and songs that you both love.

Even after Mia fell asleep, the two of you left the music on so it would somewhat cover up your voices as you did your wrapping. It just all very much so fit the vibe of the two of you still in your matching pj's talking with each other as you sat on the ground next to the Christmas tree seeing as that was the only light source you could use in the room without waking up your daughter.

The intro notes of Lover by Taylor Swift started playing next, and Auston let out a pleased sigh as he looked back at you.

"Ah, Miss Swift," he said, then gave you a look.

"What?" You asked and narrowed your gaze at him.

"Can I not just admire my beautiful wife?"

"You can, but I know the look you're giving me. It's the one you give when you want something. So, what is it?"

"You know me well," he told you then smirked, before extending a hand towards you. "Dance with me."

At that, you chuckled a little bit, but then Auston stood up and kept his hand extended as he looked at you expectantly.

"Wait, are you serious?" You asked, surprised.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

You didn't know how to respond. You were so caught off guard but soon found yourself slowly reaching for his hand and letting him help you stand back up. Once you were upright, you then let him pull you in close and rested your head on his chest as the two of you began swaying to the music.

As you did this, you couldn't help but think about dancing with him like this at your wedding that happened a year and a half prior. That was one of the happiest days of your life. Dancing with him at that moment next to the Christmas Tree made you feel like that all over again, and you soon found yourself snuggling closer to him as he began humming along to the lyrics.

No words were exchanged. There was no need for them to be. The two of you were in your own little world and just wanted to stay there for a while longer. Even as Lover faded out and Ed Sheeran's Perfect began playing next, the two of you stayed holding onto each other and continued swaying as the night seemingly faded around you both.

~*~

Christmas Day morning, although kind of chaotic, was everything you could've hoped it'd be.

You, Auston and Mia, had a very soft morning that was just the three of you before everyone piled into your room again and kicked off the day's events. Your entire family all got breakfast together, then went back to the rooms to exchange gifts but had to check out of the resort and head back to Toronto soon after.

That evening, you drove Nate, Mya, your dad and Alice to the airport, then went back home to have Christmas dinner with Auston's family. It was a very chill way to conclude the holiday, and you loved every minute of it.

A few days later, Auston's family flew home to Arizona, hockey started up again, and things just started feeling weird to you.

You would've been lying if you said you didn't experience a bit of post-holiday depression. Going from a full house of people and having all your loved ones together to having the house basically empty besides you, Mia and Frank hit really hard. The Leafs' schedule after Christmas sucked and had Auston constantly coming and going, which also didn't help because it was brief when he was home.  

It was like you were coming down from a really good high, but instead of things eventually feeling normal again, they just gradually got worse without you even realizing it. And on top of it all, you just felt so tired and weak all the damn time, finally noticing how badly your anemia absolutely kicked your ass and would continue to do so for the months to come.

However, as soon as you acknowledged how down you were feeling mentally, you booked an appointment with your therapist. Gradually got in the routine of talking to them at least once a week again. But even in doing that, you never discussed how you were feeling with anyone else and were unintentionally pushing them away.

Your loved ones noticed, though. It was very easy for them too. But, there wasn't much they could do to help if you didn't let them.

During those weeks after Christmas, Mia barely left your side because she knew you weren't feeling well, and neither did Frank. Mitch and Steph were able to pick up on something bothering you, too, because you distanced yourself from them. They knew about you having anemia and how that definitely affected you a lot, also that you were just bummed, but you wouldn't let them even try to help you. Steph tried to invite you over for days the two of you could just chill together with Mia, Frank and Zeus while the guys were away and was even ok going to your house instead, but you never gave her a straight answer. So, nothing came of it, and she and Mitch started genuinely getting worried about you.

They weren't the only ones who realized you weren't feeling like yourself either.

When you Facetimed your dad, Alice, Nate and Mya while they were in Florida, they could easily tell you weren't doing good and just wished they could be there to help. Auston's family was able to tell too, and it even got to the point where Ema was about to fly back to Toronto but didn't because she knew if that wasn't something you wanted to happen, it wouldn't help the situation.

Naturally, it was Auston who noticed just how much changed with you after the holidays. He saw it first hand when he was home and could hear it in your voice during your calls while he was away. However, you just never expressed what was bothering you, and other than the obvious things that triggered this, not even you were sure why you felt as gross as you did.

Unfortunately, this took somewhat of a toll on your's and Auston's relationship. You didn't realize you were pushing him away, and he couldn't help but blame himself for it. He wished he could be home all the time, and so did you, but that just wasn't possible, and it was the first time that a form of mental and emotional distance between the two of you added to the physical distance that was already there and it just made everything so much harder.

Miscommunication between you and Auston occurred more during these few weeks than it ever had throughout your entire relationship. How both of you felt just wasn't addressed because neither of you knew how to approach the topic and were utterly oblivious to how bad it truly was.

Both of you hated it so much. But then, around the middle of January, about two weeks before Mia's second birthday, there was a slight shift, and things briefly started looking up.

You were happy and more energetic all of a sudden, and for a few days straight, you just seemed so much like yourself again. There was a day that you and Mia grabbed lunch with Steph then hung out for the remainder of the day for the first time in almost a month. Your dad, Alice and Nate were due to fly back to Toronto in the upcoming days and stay for a night before going home themselves, so you were excited to see them even though Mya was already back in B.C. And even with Auston, you were gradually coming out of that wall you unintentionally built around yourself and letting him back in as well.

Although not every day was perfect, things seemed better. Little did anyone know they were about to go to complete shit and how easily it could've all been avoided too.

During a couple of days where Auston was home, he decided to plan something special for you. The weird scheduling of him seemingly being on the road more than he was at home was coming to an end just in time for Mia's birthday, and he couldn't wait. He was so excited to have longer stretches at home. Even though he'd still have to come and go, it wasn't going to seem as bad as it had been previously. And the best part was that he'd get just to be there and spend time with you and Mia.

To kick that off, on the 15th, exactly ten days before Mia's birthday, he booked a reservation for the two of you to grab dinner at one of your favourite restaurants downtown.

You weren't feeling 100% that day, but after Auston proposed the idea, explained what restaurant the two of you would be going to, and how he'd already arranged for Steph to watch Mia that night, you got pretty excited about it.

The thought of having a nice evening with your husband sounded so good to you. After how shitty January had been so far, you felt that you really needed this one on one time with him and could tell that he felt the same.

There wasn't a Leafs game that day, but Auston did have practice and some media stuff he had to do before meeting you for dinner. It was a long and hectic day, to say the least, and it ended up being way longer than he was expecting, but he eventually finished what he needed to do and couldn't wait to get home and see his girls.

However, when he got home, you weren't there. But Steph was.

"Hey, Steph," Auston greeted as he walked through the front door and looked at her curiously. He was lucky, though, because Mia was very focused on the show Steph had put on for her and didn't even notice him. But before he could make his presence known to her, Steph told Mia she'd be back in a second, then rushed into the foyer.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, looking at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Uh, this is my house?" He chuckled in response.

"I'm aware of that, but weren't you supposed to be downtown getting dinner with Y/N an hour ago?"

Auston froze and went completely pale at that.

"Oh, fuck," he said and immediately started putting his coat back on. "Oh, my god. I completely forgot about the reservation. Fuck!"

Without saying another word, he booked it out of the house and back to his car, but Steph understood and just hoped that this wouldn't become a whole thing, even though she had a feeling it definitely wasn't going to end up good.

Auston tried calling you as he drove back downtown and got more frustrated with himself when you weren't answering. About twenty minutes later, he parked the car and rushed to the restaurant. However, when he went to go inside, you walked out.

You looked surprised to see him, but that quickly changed to a look of hurt and disappointment, which didn't go unnoticed by your husband.

"Y/N, I am so sorry," Auston tried to explain while taking in how dressed up you were. You looked stunning in the dress you decided to wear that night, and it made him feel even worse about how badly he fucked up. "I got so caught up with everything today, and I know that's no excuse, but please know how sorry I am. We can go back in there. I'm sure they'll still take us."

"I already ate," you told him, then glanced away. It was then he noticed how glossy your eyes were with unshed tears and could feel his heart shatter. "I just want to go home."

"But, baby-."

"Please, Auston. I'm embarrassed enough as it is."

He didn't know what he could say to that, so with a nod and another apology, the two of you walked to his car and headed home.

The original plan was for Steph to drop you off at the restaurant to meet Auston, then the two of you would drive home together afterwards. That's exactly what happened. But the entire drive home was so painfully silent, and Auston knew it was all his fault.

"Babe, you don't understand how sorry I truly am," he eventually spoke up, which had you shifting awkwardly in your seat before responding.

"I understand. But please, let's just drop it."

You didn't leave much room for argument as you mindlessly started rubbing your 18-week pregnant belly and moved to look out the window, so Auston didn't bother fighting you on it and continued the drive home in silence.

Steph could sense the tension when the two of you walked into the house but knew it wasn't her place to ask about it. So, she gave Mia a quick hug goodbye, then told you and Auston to have a good night as you both thanked her for watching Mia, then made her way home for the night.

There weren't many words exchanged between the two of you as you put Mia to bed and got ready to sleep yourselves. Although you still cuddled up against Auston as you began falling asleep, just like you did every night, he still knew that you were so upset with him. However, the issue wasn't resolved or addressed, and the two of you soon fell asleep for the night.

The next morning, Auston had to be up early to catch a flight out of Pearson with the team to go to New Jersey for a game against the Devils that night. He was due to be back home in three days after a game against the Capitals the following day, and then was going to be home for four days before having to go to Montreal.

You didn't express that you were still upset with him as he got ready to leave, but he knew you were still hurt. As he was about to walk out the door, you still wished him luck with his games and told him that you loved him, because even though you were upset, that didn't change the love you always had for your husband.

But, Auston was already overthinking the entire situation and had begun planning a way he could make it up to you again as both you and Mia kissed him goodbye. That night after the game against the Devils was when he decided he'd fly home the following night after the game against Washington to surprise you, rather than going back to Toronto a day later with the rest of the team.

However, the day he was planning on flying home, you called him to explain how Mia wasn't feeling good.

You were pretty sure she was getting an ear infection, and she was just so fussy because of how uncomfortable and in pain she was. It broke your heart seeing her like that, and you just really needed to tell Auston about it, hoping he'd remind you that everything was going to be ok and of course, he did.

During that conversation, he managed not to bring up the fact that he was coming home that night but said to call him still if you needed anything or if Mia got worse.

Unfortunately, Mia did get worse, and it was too overwhelming for you.

When Auston was playing hockey that night, you got to the point where you were about to have an absolute breakdown because it was all too much. Your doctor was closed, and Mia didn't even consider the idea of going to the hospital, getting even fussier whenever you mentioned it. You couldn't call Auston and were about to call Steph because, on top of everything, you felt like trash too. Although you really didn't want to inconvenience anyone, you knew that you needed help and couldn't do this independently.

But, before you called Steph, you remembered that your dad and Nate were in town with Alice for the next two nights before they flew back to Vancouver and Montreal. You weren't even sure if they'd landed in Pearson yet, but without thinking about it any longer, you brought up Alice's contact in your phone as you held Mia with your other arm and hit the call button.

"Hello?" Alice greeted you with her usual cheery voice, which made you let out a loud sigh of relief.

"Alice, are you guys back in Toronto yet, by chance?" Your voice cracked as you sniffled, trying to keep it together but simply unable to.

"Oh, honey, is everything alright? We're in an Uber right now, about ten minutes away from my cousin's house."

"Would you mind if I came over? Auston isn't here, Mia is sick, and I need help. I don't know what to do anymore."

"You do not even need to ask, sweetheart," she replied softly. "But take a few deep breaths for me, ok? I know it's tough, but it's going to be alright. You go pack a bag for you and Mia, then get her and Frank loaded into the car and come over. Ok?"

"Ok," you responded, taking a deep breath as you did so. "Thank you, Alice. We'll be there real soon."

After you hung up the phone, you continued taking deep breaths so you could calm yourself down. You then looked down at Mia as she leaned against your shoulder, fighting to stay awake, and could tell that she felt probably as gross as you did.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling good, sweet girl," you told her softly, then brushed some of her curls away from her face. "We're going to stay with Pa, Alice and Uncle Nate for the night, ok? We're going to get you feeling better very soon."

"Ok, mama," she replied, then held onto you a little tighter as you started packing a bag for the two of you, then got both of you all bundled up to leave the house for the night.

As soon as Auston's game was over, he called you to check in with how Mia was doing, but the call went straight to voicemail. After a few more attempts to contact you and the same outcome, he started getting worried. He texted his mom, Steph and even a couple of the other Leafs girlfriends that he knew you were pretty close with to see if anyone had heard from you, which none of them had.

Not being able to keep himself from getting a little anxious, Auston still went to the airport and got on the conveniently short flight back to Toronto, hoping that everything would be fine once he got there.

As soon as he landed, he called you again, and there was still no answer. Yes, he knew that you were still mad at him, but he didn't think you were angry enough just to ignore him entirely and seemingly fall off the grid, especially after telling him that Mia was sick.

He started getting frustrated and sent a quick text to Nate to see if he'd heard from you, but never got a reply back. So, he ordered an Uber to take him home, and when he got there, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

Your car wasn't in the driveway, there wasn't a single light on in the house, and there wasn't a single sign of you, Mia or Frank once he went inside. It was past Mia's bedtime, so it didn't make sense for you not to be home, but surely if you'd taken her to the hospital, you would've told him and not taken Frank. So, he called you again and still wasn't able to get through.

He stressfully pushed his hand through his hair as he called his parents in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going. As he did this, he took his boots off, hung up his coat and went upstairs to your's and his bedroom. When he entered the room, a mix of your and Mia's clothes was strewn all over the place. It looked that you left in a hurry and only grabbed what you could, but Auston couldn't figure out why.

While on the phone with his parents, he expressed what he saw to them and felt himself getting more and more upset. Ema tried to keep him level minded, but he was already too worked up for her to be successful in doing that.

"Mom, I think she left," he finally stated, acknowledging the worst-case scenario that had been eating away at his mind since the moment he entered the house. Ema was confused by what he meant when saying that because she was already well aware that you weren't there, but then Auston elaborated on what he was thinking. "Me, mom. I think she left me."

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP.  But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster.  Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr.  See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story.  When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”.  If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is.  The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events.  I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.  

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus.  Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip. 

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile.  No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering.  Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services.  The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day.  Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial.  She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor.  I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down...  aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye?  Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here.  Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting.  What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly.  Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.  

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.  Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.”  At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor.  Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal.  Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever.  If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass.  He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent.   Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped.  “Wee Jamie?  Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew.  I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny.  Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained.  “I’m Claire Beauchamp.  You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday.  I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance.  She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston.  Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie.  I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work.  I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself.   As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class?  My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche.  Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck.  My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning.  I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left.  A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips.  Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy.  She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp.  Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?”  At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone.  Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day.  I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body.  He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch.  I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures.  “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe.  Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation.  Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others.  I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time.  The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan.  I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast.  First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands.  To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.  

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind.  My pie crust!  Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan.  Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.  

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class.   We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke.  With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water.  A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls.  I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision.   She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking.  It looked like a magazine cover.  Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better.  She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness.  Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion.  Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated.  She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair.  “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty.  They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display.  I suppose I couldn’t blame her.  I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended.  I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment.  Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire.  After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama.  Will ye be joining us next week?  We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk.  “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook.  It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity.  “Tis an art.  Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is.  But in that case, I may as well give up now.  I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly.  Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree.  Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting.  He knew about Frank.  He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake!  Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft.  Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement.  Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”

[cipher-fresh]

Just Out Of Reach

Posting on tumblr due to Discord's character limit, this one's a lot longer than my other ones. A prompt from @marlinspirkhall about how food on the holodeck doesn't exist once you step off it got me thinking. TW for violence, injury, blood, food, eating disorders I think (?? rather safe than sorry) and long-term distress. Thank you for the Federation gothic prompt!

It's fuzzy, you remember the ship leaving spacedock after repairs, and some of the anticipatory silence as the odd lack of Dominion ships greeted your rush toward the Bajoran sector to help recapture Deep Space Nine and the Bajoran wormhole. You had never been this far away from home, but you'd tried to steel yourself. The red alert had blared in your ears, and you don't remember much else. You look down. You're bleeding. You curse, and look around for medical supplies.

You're in a dark building, with debris strewn around. A force field makes it's presence known as a hurtling piece of Dominion ship tailwing is stopped in it's tracks from perhaps it's original destiny of destroying wherever you were. If there was a forcefield up, there must be an energy source. You find you had crash-landed here, as there's an escape pod near the fallen bulkheads. You saddle up with the materials from the escape pod, and hunt around for any available resources on whatever man-made, oxygenated building you'd been lucky enough to land in. You put your bag down, and take off your Starfleet outer shirt. You're still wearing the gray undershirt, and over it you tie the main shirt over the wound. You wish it had been an easier area to tie, like your lower leg, and press on. After a trek over fallen metal, everything from large carts, a whole shuttle, bulkheads and PADDs, you find the opposite wall, marked with a plaque designating it the Miyamoto, a mini-space station hardly the size of a neighborhood street. Some place, you scoff. It feels like a shadowy castle fallen into disrepair, with the flickering lights looking like the occasional sunbeam brightening it. Atmospheric, at least, if it wasn't going to comfortable. It feels as if you could almost hear sad music, accentuating just quite how dark the station was, cold and alone. The Miyamoto station echoes sadly, the destruction and carnage of Dominion and Federation ships making their final stand above the station feeling long off, although you could place it as happening mere hours ago. Continuing onward, you clear a path the best you can of the debris on the ground, in case you round this area again.

You see places that look like shops- the *Miyamoto*, as per it's informational plaque, was a station commissioned and controlled by Starfleet, but it had housed many Federation-aligned planets, that is to say, planets that hadn't joined the Federation for one reason or another, but remained in contact with it, politically or economically. Your journey around the station ends as you look back down at your outer shirt, wrapped around your torso wound, and it's too red with blood for comfort. You take an unfortunate, seething inhale, processing what this might mean. You have no other than the most basic medical supplies on your bag, and you're alone on a mini-space station with debris that was ripe to fall over and crush you at any time. Nobody else seems to have crashed near you. You're alone, on an at least semi-functioning, mini-space station. And you were determined to survive. The bleeding cut on your torso should be dealt with first. Can't look for food or set up a distress call if you're bleeding to death. You take a tricorder from the bag, and scan around for anything useful. It picks up gauze a few meters ahead of you. Better than your shirt, certainly. You navigate toward it with the tricorder's map, and it navigates you to a holodeck, you recognize from the doors. Gauze in the holodeck? You thought the violin music had been a symptom of a bleeding body and the brain processing your day, but no, the violin was louder. Getting closer to the holodeck, that made more sense. It was extremely lucky the program was still running. You walk inside. The inside is a gothic, turn-of-the-century sort of laboratory. Indeed, a holodeck character playing a violin spots you, and huffs.

"You're bleeding. Are you looking for my partner, Dr. Watson?"

You take a moment- oh, this was a Sherlock Holmes program. You doubt Dr. Watson could help you, but then you take a moment to think. Emergency Medical Holograms are just as holographic as Dr. Watson here, and they have helped millions of people. You're too tired to act, so you ask him, "Yes, I need a doctor. Can you get him?" Too much also eating at your mind to enjoy the program, Dr. Watson fixes you up in the flat. You wince at the old medical technology, and wish the two of them lived in a period of time with more current medicinal knowledge. - Wait. "Computer?" you say. "Change the time period to, uh, 22nd century. No, I mean, to today. 24th century. Keep Sherlock and Watson with me." The computer responds to your request, and you see the program change around you. You laugh at the mystery-solving duo's updated outfits for the 24th century, then look back at Dr. Watson. It's a little jarring how seamlessly they continue from the jump in time, but better that than their program stop working. Watson asks a replicator- a holographic replicator, which makes you laugh a little bit, for a dermal regenerator, and you get patched up. "Stick around for a cup of tea?" Watson asks. "Sherlock really wants to know why you broke into our flat." You consider it. You've heard jokes from non-Federation species when trying out holodecks for the first time, "Calories don't count on the holodeck!" Anything you eat here wouldn't sustain you, the minute you left the holodeck. You could activate this program so long as there was energy to the station, but food was a priority. Assuming the *Miyamoto* had been in a tussle just a few hours ago during your fly-over to Deep Space Nine, now was a crucial time to find genuine replicators before they went offline. You leave the holodeck. You see the gauze over your injury (kept for good measure) disappear as you exit the holodeck, but not the skin you'd grown back from the dermal regenerator. The gauze was holographic, but the stimulated skin cells and tissues were not. You follow the path set by rounding around the small, circular station, and tracing your steps back through the cleared path you made. Your injury healed, you could now look around and find something to eat. You follow around a downloaded map of the *Miyamoto* from the plaque's infochip, and hunt down all the replicators marked on the station. One by one, they're all broken, in pieces, or missing. Maybe the station was in poor shape to begin with. You take another trip around- at least you're getting plenty of exercise in, you halfheartedly cheer- and visit all the food shops. You raid the fridges, cabinets and cupboards, and still find nothing. Intending to not be disheartened, you sit down for a moment. Your hunger is suddenly made aware to you, your vision swirling. Not good, you decide. Your stomach hurts, and you try to remember the last time you ate. Breakfast on- on the *USS Halay*. Maybe tea with Dr. Watson wouldn't be so bad, you assure yourself. You have some food with the two of them, think of a new plan, then go back out there and find some food. Some water, while you're at it, too. You walk back, and almost trip over debris you swore you moved out of your path. You enter back to the holodeck, and smell the fresh air. You find Watson and Sherlock again, and you're offered a pastry you can't remember the name of. You eat, and have some tea, and you feel at peace. You're still directly aware of the stakes, you're stuck on a space station in the middle of nowhere, but you're at least still alive. And going from desperately hungry out there to the sweet scent of buttered pastries in here in a still-peaceful London before the Dominion invaded was a sense of home you'd missed. You sat down, and considered your optics. If you left now, you'd probably be just as hungry as before, but here, you could come up with a plan, and make the time before it worth it. You clued in the holographic Sherlock and Watson into it, without exposing to them they were holograms. Quite tricky, it was, but you were glad they got over

their suspicions and were just willing to help. You and the two problem-solvers looked over the schematics of the *Miyamoto*, and found from your walkaround of the station, the replicator at the Bolarian food shop was the least broken- it had gotten halfway to forming bread before it puttered out. Although not quite a chief engineer, this seemed to be your only option. You picked back up your supplies from the escape pod that you'd kept with you, and journey off to the replicator. You feel the distinct hunger pangs as soon as you leave, and almost regret leaving. Little matter. You'd already gone and done it, you might as well make it worthwhile. You get to the replicator, and try to recall your engineering training. Basic engineering design over necessary machines like replicators and transporters were required classes at the Academy, and you couldn't remember a thing from it. You open a hatch at the back and fiddle with some of the wires and steel EPS hubcaps, and put everything back into place. Not ever quite sure what to do, you feel a fog in your brain, you know you're putting a square peg in a round hole as you try to fix this. You screw things on and off, scan it, flip a switch. Closing the hatch, you hit it for good measure, and try replicating food again. It produces a gray slop of what could only technically be edible, organic material. You take your tricorder out and get a holo-scan of it. A moment of darkness in your vision, you fall to the ground. You're really feeling it. You hold a hand to your stomach, and close your eyes tight. It hurts, it does. You could make the feeling go away, if you just went back.

A deep breath, and you turned around. Just back for a second.

Desperate to get back to the holodeck, you're assured you can figure out the replicator's problem with the holo-imager scans. You get back inside, and feel the pleasant, clean air, and walk back inside. Ravenously, you scarf down the food given to you, and you can feel your mind finding clarity again. If you could find a way to fix the replicator while inside the holodeck, you'd be set. You could fix it there, and only be hungry from the minute you walked over to the replicator, no brain fog as you tried to fix it. Maybe engineers had "Don't fix things on an empty stomach" as a rule. If not, they should. You spend a few more hours there, going over the specs of the replicator, sitting in the nice flat. It's an amalgamation of every depiction of 221B ever put to screen, and all the books are real, wholly scripted ones. You chuckle, certainly sure only a man of fiction could read so many books, bookshelves stacked wall to wall. Many of them had frantically scribbled notes and writings in them. After some time, you fall asleep. You're woken up by Watson, telling you again that you need to wake up. You rub your eyes, and consider everything from the day previous. Hungry, stuck on a space station with no food, and surviving in the holodeck. This would be a lovely nightmare to wake up from, eh? Lovely, for the fact you're waking up, you joke. "-get out there and find something to eat or your body will starve. Please. The program-" You burst out from under the blanket on the couch. Dr. Watson looks at you. "Sherlock and I put together that you're on a holodeck. Incredible inventions, truthfully, but what is more important now is your life. You haven't eaten in how long? A human would starve after not eating for-"

"About a week. But without water is a different story. Three days, at most." Sherlock filled in. You swallowed. Wonderful. You look back at Watson. "Please, we're trying to help you. You need to head back out there." That's the last thing you want to do.

Neither of them were being helpful. "Look, we can't leave the holodeck. All we can do is-" "I don't care!" you yell. "I'll just-stay in here until I figure it out." The two exchanged looks with each other. Watson got closer to you. You feel small. Threatened. "You're Starfleet, right? You haven't even given us your name. How about you-" You lash out. "Computer, delete characters Sherlock and Watson." "Not possible." "Fine! Delete whatever you need to get rid of them." "Confirmed." the computer says. The two of them phase out of existence. You breathe heavily. You hope they won't be mad at you. "Computer, change scenery. Somewhere on Earth. As far away from Sherlock as possible." "Changing location to Dunedin, New Zealand." the computer replied. You stop, and catch your breath. You'd just- stay in here. For a while. Yeah.

The systems of the Miyamoto station degrade. The holodeck, over time, begins to lose critical imaging projectors. One corner of the holodeck shows the depressingly bare and black wall, the whole program not covering the entire room. You try not to mind. You sleep. If you could just- just learn how to fix the replicator....no. You have everything you need right in here. Everything....you need. You take an arduous breath. The holodeck doors have sealed shut. The imagers have stopped working. You're trapped inside. A lone Starfleet officer starves to death on a holodeck, over an agonizing three days, just as Sherlock predicted. The Miyamoto station is destroyed by the Breen a year later, unimportant and completely alone. If one listened closely, passing an unimportant, tiny little station, they may have heard faint music of a violin.

[carrisarune]

In Your Eyes

Next

Note: This is my second attempt of dropping a fic on this site and I can only ask that you have mercy. This was an attempt to expand on the book and certain scenes with my OC. Here’s hoping it works

Tags: I was inspired by the lovely @jamespotterthefirst and their amazing works into dishing out this fic. I also want to thank them for being willing to listen to all my wild rambles in chat and me bein a weirdo. You’re awesome and I can’t thank you enough.

CHAPTER ONE: FIRST DAY INTO THE FRAY (Part 1)

With one last shove to balance the pile of boxes against the wall, Rai sighed before flopping on the bed. A room under the stairs wasn’t the most ideal place to start in a new city but at least it was something. Given how the majority of his savings and allowance had gone into paying any school debts, he was lucky enough to get the room with his own money and not have to reach out to his family. While both sides of his family were well off, using their money without contributing anything gave him hives. 

On that thought, he shifted to pull out his phone from his pocket and called his parents. It took a few seconds before he heard his mum pick up. He greeted her with a, “Hey Mum, I’m all settled in-” before he was interrupted by his mum fussing over whether he was doing alright and if was really sure he didn’t want them to contact a friend for a better place to stay. 

“Mum, MUM! I’m fine. It’s not the worst place to stay in the city and hey, with enough work, I can get myself a better apartment to stay in” he chirped optimistically. His words only served to have his mum fuss even more before his dad took over. Rai could easily picture his dad calming her with a kiss to the cheek as her voice faded away and was replaced with his father’s rich baritone. 

He sounded amused as he spoke, “We had to stop your mother from grabbing her phone more than a few times today, you think you’re ready for your first day of work tomorrow?” showing his own turn at concern. Rai rolled his eyes as he continued to assure his parents for the next few minutes. Honestly, he managed to take care of himself in medical school, he could take care of himself in a new city. 

After ending the call and seeing he had a few hours to spare, Rai carefully pulled a box of books towards him and pulled out a few he could study. As he pulled out one particular old but well-loved book, he gave a grin. It was still hard to believe that he was going to start his residency at Edenbrook tomorrow. Who knows what kind of challenges he would be facing on the job. Plus, having the chance to work and be mentored by some of the top doctors? Rai wasn’t even sure he could sleep with all the excitement buzzing through him. 

Suddenly, he heard the sound of rumbling from the ceiling and gave a sigh. Well, if that was going to be a constant thing, maybe it was best to turn in early. Here was hoping he’d get a comfier place in the future. 

Stepping out of the cab and taking in the hospital, Rai couldn’t stop the grin that overtook his face before he practically ran inside. Once inside though, he realized he didn’t know where to go and paused. Tilting his head in thought, he looked around for anything that might give him directions. He then felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around to see a woman with curly brown hair and a warm smile. “Hi!” she greeted, “You look lost. Let me guess… first day of your medical residency?” and Rai nodded enthusiastically. She directed him to a corner where a camera and a white sheet was set up near the reception. 

He hoped that he didn’t stand out too much from the crowd. But being an Asian with windswept black hair and sharp brown eyes, Rai was sure he’d garner some curious looks like he did in school. Once he settled his ID and managed to get some helpful advice from the doctor whom he learned was Dr. Ines DeLarosa, he headed for orientation. 

On the way there through the waiting room though, Rai suddenly heard gasps and turned to see a woman collapse to the ground. Quickly moving as he saw the other patients start to crowd around her, he called, “Everyone please step back! I’m a doctor” and moved to check on the woman. As he did, an attending rushed in, kneeled by her side, and checked her pulse. “Pulse is weak. She’s unresponsive” he announced then looked around before catching sight of Rai. 

Without hesitation, he ordered, “You. Rookie. Get in here” and Rai quickly moved to obey with a, “Yes Doctor!” The woman was then lifted to a gurney before the doctor turned to a male nurse and asked, “What was she in for? Did she fill out a form yet?” to which the nurse replied with a negative. This clearly didn’t please the doctor as he stated, “If we don’t figure out what’s wrong with her fast, she’s gonna die on this table” before telling Rai to check the patient’s B.P. 

Doing as instructed, he peered at the numbers before announcing it’s quick descent and the patient’s immediate need for fluids. While the nurse was preparing the IV, Rai noticed the rapidly forming bruise on the patient’s elbow. Knowing that she had not landed on that elbow, Rai’s mind began to rapidly speed through possibilities as he noticed the patient’s fingertips were also turning blue. 

When he called the symptoms to attention and noted how the patient was most likely lacking oxygen, Rai saw the doctor nod in approval before instructing him to check on the patient’s lungs. The moment Rai did, he felt panic settle in upon hearing the failing of the organ. Urgently announcing his findings, he tried to reign in spiraling thoughts while the attending calmly announced a Code Blue and began to gently pump air into the patient. 

Digging his nails into his palm to center himself, Rai asked, “What can we do doctor? The problem hasn’t been confirmed yet” his mind whirling through all possible answers. With intense blue eyes piercing into Rai’s, the doctor told him, “Consider all the clues. It’s all there. You know this, Rookie.” Rai unclenched his hand to bite at a fingertip as he muttered the symptoms before exclaiming, “It’s a hemothorax!” thoughts coming to focus as the answer came to him. “Precisely. A blood vessel ruptured and is filling her pleural cavity…” the doctor started and Rai continued, “...blocking her lungs expanding! Hence the failure!” Then another thought popped in, “But since there’s no time to repair the vessel, that means…” Rai trailed off.

“We’ll have to do an emergency thoracotomy to drain the cavity instead. Nurse!” the attending called. To Rai’s shock, he finds himself handed a test tube and socket while the attending lift’s the patient’s shirt to expose the side of her ribcage. Blood roaring in his ears as he gripped at the scalpel, Rai gulped as he muttered, “No time for anesthesia… have to make the incision at the fifth intercostal space… anterior… to the mid… damn it, get a grip Hayashi!” growling at his trembling hand holding the scalpel. 

He jolted when felt the doctor steady his hand with his and their eyes met once more as the doctor told him, “Hey… You can do this.” Gripping onto those words, Rai took a breath before steadying his hand and carefully making the incision. He faintly heard the doctor’s encouragement before following the instruction to insert the tube. 

The moment the patient gasped for breath, Rai felt all remaining tenseness leave him before nodding to the doctor in silent thanks. As the doctor gave orders for the patient to be taken to surgery and the onlookers applauded, Rai released a heavy breath. He carefully rubbed his hands and with a breathless laugh, he said to the doctor, “Uh… well, that was… pretty amazing” barely believing that he barely started a shift and he managed to help save a patient. Calm as can be, the doctor retorted, “You’re right. it’s pretty amazing you didn’t get her killed’, his words causing Rai’s smile to freeze. Seeing the other lost for words, the doctor ruthlessly continued, “Your examination was slow and superficial. Your scalpel technique amateur at best…”

Before he could stop himself, Rai jokes, “In that case, maybe you should give me some private lessons” and the moment he did, his mind screeched, “(YOU FECKIN IDIOT!!!)” while alarms blared. Of all reactions, Rai did not expect the doctor to be amused, “Ha! I just might, Doctor…” he said, lifting Rai’s lanyard to read his ID, “Hayashi. But I sincerely doubt you could afford my salary” before tossing it back and walking away. 

It was one thing to suddenly have his ID grabbed, but hearing his last name be pronounced right left him more than a little breathless. He quickly took a breath to reel himself in before ruffling his head and groaning, “… Please tell me I didn’t just make a total fool of myself in front of a top doctor” a whimper tinting his words towards the end. 

The same male nurse from earlier walked over and patted his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, Dr. Ramsey is like that with everyone.” Hearing the doctor’s name, Rai’s brain conjured the Looney Tunes ending theme, replacing the ending catchphrase with “You’re Screwed!” as he buried his face in his hands. “Greaaat, so not only do I mess up my first impression with an attending, I made a fool of myself in front of my medical hero of all people” he bemoaned. Clearly trying to cheer him up, the nurse chimed, “On the bright side, you’ll get plenty more chances to impress him” and Rai smiled in thanks. Once he learned the nurse’s name was Danny and introductions were made, Rai looked down to see his scrubs had been stained with blood and sighed.

Asking for directions to the locker room, he thanked Danny as he was led the way. Once inside, Rai searched for his locker, only to come face to face with a beautiful woman with dark skin and black hair in her underwear. Quickly turning about-face, Rai shut his eyes, “Sorry about that, do you need some privacy?” he asked. The woman seemed amused at his reaction, “How’d you make it through medical school without seeing a bra?” she asked and Rai shrugged. He turned to move away and reply only to bump into a muscular male; “Go easy on him, Jackie. It’s the first day for all of us” Rai heard him say. 

The woman, now identified as Jackie retorted, “Hey, I can be friendly… if you stay out of my way.” Rai couldn’t help but snort at that before piping, “To answer your question, I got away by being respectful, my parents didn’t raise no creep” rocking on his heels. 

The shirtless male barked a laugh, “We got ourselves a smart one here then” he joked before extending a hand with a playful wink. “Bryce Lahela, a.k.a. your new favorite surgical intern. Pleasure’s all mine” he introduced only for Jackie to snark, “Ignore the meathead, he’s a scalpel jockey.” Rai accepted Bryce’s hand with a grin, “Rai Hayashi. Internal medicine, nice to meet you!” Jackie nodded at that, “Guess you’re with me then. C’mon, we’re gonna be late” she said before slipping into her scrubs. 

Going from his first impression, Rai thought it was best to be quick and follow after. It didn’t take long for the trio to reach the main atrium where the rest of the interns were listening to an impressive, statuesque woman up front. From the sound of things, she was already in the middle of orientation. Peering at the woman’s face, Rai tried to place her face before perking. He leaned towards Bryce and whispered, “Isn’t that Harper Emery? I thought she was with the surgical team?” 

Jackie gave a smirk as she overheard, “You’re a little late on the news there Hayashi, she’s the hospital’s new chief.” Rai nodded in acknowledgement before listening to the rest of the speech. As she ended her speech and the interns burst in applause, Rai joined in and grinned at his fellow colleagues only to catch something, or rather someone in the crowd. 

Out of all the interns, there was a young woman who was not clapping with the rest. Frankly, she looked rather unimpressed with everything. Before Rai could think further on it, he hears Dr. Emery announce that they would be meeting their senior residents tomorrow and for today, they would be partnering up for their first patient and that assignments were on the board. 

Waving goodbye and wishing Bryce good luck as he left to join his group, Rai moved to peer at the board. Once he found his and his partner’s name, he tilted his head, “Huh, I’m partnered with… A. Emery?” he mused out loud. An intern with curly hair exclaimed, “Like, Chief of Medicine Dr. Emery?!” and Rai turned to him. “It says A. Emery, so I’m sure it meant a relative, unless Emery somehow became a common last name without anyone knowing” Rai joked and a loud snort was heard followed by an, “I wish.” Everyone turns to the source and it’s revealed to be the unimpressed intern that Rai saw earlier. 

He walked up to her with a smile and held out his hand, “Hi! A. Emery right? I’m Rai Hayashi, it looks like we’ll be partners for this assignment. Are you alright with me calling you Dr. Emery or something else? I mean, if you want,; it’s tough that people pile on expectation when it comes to certain last names. Oh wait, I didn’t even get your first name, my bad” he babbled, though still maintained his bright smile. For a moment, the female intern looked surprised before her expression turned cool and she shook his hand, “Dr. Aurora Emery, Dr. Emery is fine. Anyone tell you that you talk… a lot?” she said and Rai gave a chuckle. “My bad, I was just excited to work my first assignment, let’s go?” he offered and Aurora gave a curt nod; the two breezed past the crowd before anything else could be said.

On the way to their patient, the two managed to have an amicable agreement on their partnership for the assignment. Though he had read the chart, Rai still felt a pang as they entered the room and saw the young patient named Annie. Still, he managed to push through with Aurora taking her vitals while he made the patient more comfortable and asked more on what happened before they ended up in the hospital. 

After leaving Annie with further reassurances and taking note of her symptoms and other unrecorded injuries. Just as they were discussing submitting their findings for lab work, Aurora was paged by her aunt. Rai gave a wince upon hearing the announcement from the P.A System, “Go ahead. I’ll handle things and keep you updated. Good luck” he encouraged.

Aurora peered at him for a moment, as if she was trying to figure him out before she nodded and left. After making the submission, Rai found himself busy with other patients. By the time he managed to have a minute to himself, Rai was close to just squatting on the floor to rest. Just as he was about to do just that, a nurse came up to him with the results. 

Looking them over and noting the uncommon strain of bacteria, he advised for some antibiotics and some observation on the effects before thanking the nurse for their work. With that done, Rai took a moment to breath before heading off to continue his rounds. Only, he realized later, in his attempt to head back to Annie’s room, he had somehow gotten himself lost.

He looked around to see if there was anything familiar, but as he turned around, he ended up bumping into another intern who dropped the textbook they were reading. “Sorry!” Rai exclaimed before bending down to pick up the fallen book and held it out. The intern waved his apologies, giving his own apologies before introducing himself as Landry Olsen. When he was handing the book back, Rai saw a peek of the cover, “Oh hey! ‘Diagnostic Principles by Ethan Ramsey’, you a fan?” he asked. Landry grinned, “Yeah, I totally worship the guy. Shrine in my basement and everything” he said before immediately stating, “Kidding! I’m kidding. I never know it’s clear when I’m joking,” his words caused something to itch at the back of Rai’s head but he ignored it. 

“Well, here’s hoping you give a better first impression than I did,” Rai offered and Landry gave a gasp of recognition. Apparently, the whole incident from the morning had already made his rounds. Landry was gushing on how lucky Rai was and how he wished he hadn’t been early to work, wishing he had the chance to meet Dr. Ramsey. Quite honestly, Rai had been trying to not cringe into a ball as he listened to Landry’s words. When the other trailed off and seemed to stare in shock at something, Rai followed his line of sight and saw the very man being talked about at the end of the hall. 

“(Whelp, time to find the nearest window and yeet myself then)”

[icarusbuck]

31. I trust you

FOX! 911 | minor concussion

∞

Buck turned in a slow circle, careful not to lose his footing on the red clay tiles of Eddie's roof. A long line of string lights spread before him, doubling back on itself and looping around in a mimicry of the Santa hat sketched on a piece of paper in his hand. He consulted the drawing with some amount of skepticism and tilted his head, eyeing the distance between the peak of the roof and the gutter.

"You know," he called out to Eddie, bending at the waist to adjust one of the places where the lights were attached, "this is going to drive your energy bill through the roof." The roof clips were easy to slide around, and he straightened carefully once he was satisfied with the new placement.

"Christopher wants to win the neighborhood contest," Eddie replied, his voice impossible to place over the edge of the roof. He was busy arranging the dozen or so inflatable decorations around the yard.

"Chris does, or you do?" Buck teased, squinting once more at the drawing. The matching hat on his head sat crooked after bending over, the little ball at the end dangling in front of his face. He swatted it to the side and tugged the hat back into place.

"Please. Where do you think he gets his sense of competition?" Eddie's voice had moved again.

"What sense of competition?" Buck laughed. He shifted his weight, careful to keep as much of his rubber soles in contact with the slippery roof tiles as possible. In retrospect, it may have been worth tying himself to the chimney. From his vantage point, it was almost impossible to gauge whether the lights were shaped appropriately. At best, it just looked like he'd tossed the string lights and left them. "Hey, do you think this looks right?"

"Sure. I trust you," Eddie said flippantly. He sounded even further away, which was odd considering how small the front yard was.

"Did you even look?" Buck sighed, rolling his eyes. He turned in place and surveyed Eddie's progress on the yard. There were several sad half-inflated reindeer and extension cords snaking between them all, but no Eddie. Taking a step closer to the gutter, Buck leaned over to scope out to the far reaches of the property.

In either direction, there were only a handful of other houses that boasted any decorations at all, and none were as extravagant as what Eddie had planned. Buck frowned and turned his attention back to not falling off the roof.

"Isn't it a little early to go all in on Christmas? I mean, I respect the commitment, but Halloween was yesterday." He finally gave up waiting for Eddie's appraisal and folded up his drawing, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Eddie?"

He told himself Eddie had just gone inside, but the little spark of fear at the back of his mind ignited when he received no response. The ladder was on the other end of the roof, and worry made him careless. He didn't pay as much attention to his footing as he'd done before, and with the ladder still several feet away, he slipped.

With a clipped yelp, he went down, landing on one ass cheek on the tile. He began to slide immediately, fingernails scraping against the shaped clay, and then the roof was no longer under him. His stomach tilted during his brief period of free fall. It happened too quickly for him to even pray for a soft landing. One moment he was standing on the roof, and the next his momentum was halted by a body. The air rushed out of him when they both toppled into one of the inflatables.

"How the hell did you know I would be there?" Eddie griped from beneath him, shoving at the synthetic material pressing into his face. Buck scrambled onto his hands and knees, meeting Eddie's glare with concerned surprise. "I swear you aimed for me," he accused.

"I didn't," Buck said, getting quickly to his feet. He reached down to help pull Eddie out of the inflatable. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Eddie winced, rocking back on his heels once he'd gained his feet. He leaned away unsteadily and Buck grabbed his arm again to steady him, frowning.

"Did you hit your head?" Buck bent to get a better look at Eddie's eyes, feeling the back of his skull for a bump.

"I don't think so," Eddie said, but it sounded like a question. "Did you hit my head?"

Buck pressed his lips against a retort and shook his head. "Come on. I'm taking you to get checked out."

"Buck, I'm fine," Eddie scoffed, pulling free of Buck's grip. He stumbled immediately, and Buck was met with no resistance this time when he grabbed him again. "Whoa," Eddie groaned, pressing his palm to his forehead.

"You're definitely not fine," Buck insisted, and he marched them both over to the Jeep. Eddie climbed into the passenger seat willingly, but drew the line when Buck tried to clip the seatbelt for him. As soon as Buck was in the driver's seat, Eddie squinted at him.

"Can I borrow some sunglasses?"

Buck eyed the gray skies and glanced back as he fetched the pair from the center console.

∞

The emergency department was having a blissfully slow day, but the process of getting Eddie checked in and filling out forms and seeing one of the doctors still took them a few hours. The diagnosis was a mild concussion and the recommended course of action was to just rest, and Buck was given a list of symptoms to watch for.

Once, while they waited, Eddie turned to look at Buck.

"Is Christopher okay?" He asked with a worried frown.

Buck had to fight a smile. "Yeah, he's fine," he assured him.

He took care of arranging an overnight stay for Christopher with Abuela. While Eddie's symptoms were minor, they both knew how unpredictable concussions could be, and he didn't want the added stress of worrying about Christopher if his dad needed to be rushed back to the hospital in the middle of the night.

Night had fallen by the time Eddie was released. His disorientation and confusion fluctuated, but never grew severe enough for him to stay. Once they were safely back at Eddie's, Buck left him in the dining room and called Bobby.

"Hey Buck," Bobby greeted, backed by a chorus of voices. The voices quieted after a moment. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Buck said, keeping his voice low despite being a room away from Eddie. "Eddie needs to take a couple sick days, though. He's got a concussion."

"Is he okay?"

"He will be. But I was also wondering if I could use up some vacation to make sure he's okay. Between his concussion and Chris's needs…"

"I understand," Bobby said, picking up as Buck's words trailed off. "Take a few days, make sure he recovers."

"You got it, Captain," Buck said, smiling. He hung up and returned to the dining room, where Eddie was still seated at the table.

"I don't feel good," he mumbled. Buck took the seat next to him and awkwardly patted his hand.

"I know. I'm sorry, head injuries suck. You're supposed to avoid screens and bright lights, maybe we could listen to something?" Buck offered, though he doubted any noise at all would be pleasant. From what little he remembered of his own head injuries, any sound at all was pure misery.

"Why?” Eddie frowned, his gaze transferring from the ceiling to Buck.

"Because you have a concussion," Buck said patiently. He felt a twinge of guilt; this was definitely his fault.

"Oh," Eddie said. He frowned down at his hands and picked at his cuticles. "I'm tired," he complained after a few seconds, his face pinching almost comically. His shoulders fell inward as he leaned forward to put his forehead on the table.

"I know," Buck said again, wincing. "Come on, let's go sit on the couch. At least you'll be more comfortable there." He stood and held out his hand, but Eddie swatted clumsily at it and found his feet by himself. It was almost comical how quickly he reached out to steady himself with Buck's shoulder, and Buck simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"I can do it," Eddie assured him, his fingers patting Buck's shoulder as if that was all he'd meant to do. He drew in a steadying breath and set off for the living room, Buck hot on his heels just in case. When he reached the couch, he sagged onto it with a groan.

Buck sat beside him. A mixture of guilt and worry had him watching Eddie like a hawk, but it was shortlived. Eddie smacked the back of his knuckles against Buck's arm.

"Stop it," he grumbled, shifting about on the couch. "You're so tense."

"Forgive me for worrying about you," Buck said dryly, rolling his eyes.

"Now you know how it feels," Eddie muttered under his breath.

"What?" Buck tried to meet his eyes, but Eddie wasn't looking at him. His eyes were unfocused, directed toward the fireplace. He shook himself and refocused his attention on Buck.

"Huh?"

Buck shook his head, choosing to ignore the little changes the concussion had brought out. He pulled his phone out again and went through the list of symptoms - that one included - to remind himself precisely when it would be time to worry.

"What were you saying?" Eddie prodded, knocking his knee into Buck's.

Buck looked up from his phone, surprised to find Eddie looking at him. He wasn't sure how much of this Eddie was real and how much was the bump on the head, but he figured they were still in safe territory. "I wasn't. You were saying you worry about me."

"Oh yeah," Eddie said, nodding. "You do a lot of shit worth worrying about."

"Like what? Aside from my job," Buck challenged, setting his phone aside. He settled back into the cushions, wiggling in between two of them.

"Like falling off the roof," Eddie fired back, and Buck had to admit that it had merit. Eddie slouched down, searching for a comfortable position, and wound up tipping slightly to lean into Buck's side. He sighed his contentment and closed his eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't have fallen off the roof if you weren't hellbent on winning your neighborhood competition. Eyes open," Buck said, setting his arm on the back of the couch. Eddie took advantage of the space it created, making agreeable noises as he snuggled into Buck's side. Buck raised an eyebrow; it wasn't uncommon for either of them to touch, but this was decidedly different from sideways hugs and bumping arms as they walked.

Eddie's eyes opened obediently after several seconds, and he looked up at Buck. "Thanks," he said softly.

Buck patted his shoulder, squeezing him closer after a moment's hesitation. "It's the least I could do after you broke my fall."

"I'll always catch you," Eddie affirmed, his lips twitching. "Especially when you fall for me." His voice shook, and he gave in to the giggle that threatened.

"What?" Buck asked, a little too sharply this time. He tensed involuntarily and couldn't suppress the odd feeling tugging at the back of his mind.

"What?" Eddie repeated, frowning at him.

Buck wiped his hand over his face, hiding behind his palm in order to school his expression. "You are running in circles, and it's driving me crazy," he sighed.

"Now you know how it feels," Eddie said again. There was a hint of a smirk on his face, but it faded quickly. He cast his eyes about the room as though looking for something. "I won't remember this in a few days, will I?"

Buck edged the shoulder not occupied by Eddie's head into a shrug. "You might, but… probably not. I don't remember most of mine."

Eddie nodded and set his jaw. He sat up and turned in place to face Buck, lifting one hand to cup his jaw. There was a clarity in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Buck held his breath and waited for an explanation, but the quiet stretched on.

"Eddie," Buck breathed, setting his hand on Eddie's shoulder. "This is just the concussion." He didn't know if he was trying to convince Eddie or himself, though.

"How do you know?" Eddie demanded, his fingertips digging in behind Buck's jaw, pulling at him.

"I know you," Buck asserted, but his resolve crumbled the longer Eddie stared at him.

"You think so?" Eddie loosened his grip. Keeping his hand there, he rubbed his thumb over Buck's mouth, following the movement with his eyes. "Are you sure?"

Eddie met his eyes again, and the rest happened in slow motion. He leaned in, moving his finger out of the way just to replace it with his lips.

They were softer than Buck expected, a tentative press that lasted forever and not long enough. He closed his eyes to savor it, to revel in the ache it caused, to commit the feeling to memory. The side of Eddie's nose nudged against his, and it was so close to perfect, save for the ever present knowledge that Eddie had a concussion.

Eddie held him still and released a shaky breath across Buck's lips. Then he tipped his head and went back for more, taking Buck's bottom lip between his. Against his better judgment, Buck kissed him back.

∞

Buck kept his distance after that. One kiss. One long kiss. One long kiss with a man who had a concussion and a kid and deserved a pass.

He stayed during his time off and carefully avoided the subject, and Eddie, and ignored the longing he felt for another one.

Because it was just one kiss, and knowing Eddie wouldn't remember it made those next few days agony. He was almost relieved to go back to work and escape the persistent feeling that he'd taken advantage, the guilt that accompanied it. Things would go back to normal soon enough, but if he avoided Eddie's texts and busied himself with work instead, normal would return even faster.

That's what he told himself, anyway. He repeated it like a mantra whenever his phone buzzed and signaled Eddie's boredom.

Work only provided a distraction for a few days, and then he wound up back at Eddie's as promised. He was a glutton for punishment and apparently ready for more.

Eddie opened the front door as soon as Buck's feet hit the ground. He looked better than he had the last time Buck had been over, more rested. His eyes narrowed as Buck picked his way in between the decorations. The job had fallen to him to finish after the visit to the emergency department, and he'd done so happily as an excuse to escape Eddie's scrutiny.

"You've been avoiding me," Eddie said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You know, if you were that sick of me, I could have gotten Carla to come babysit."

Buck rolled his eyes. "You're needy when you aren't concussed," he retorted, brushing Eddie aside so he could enter the house. He held out a bag of takeout and shook it. "Truce?"

"We'll see," Eddie grumbled, snatching the bag from him. He shoved his nose into it and took a deep sniff as he headed over to the couch. There were plates and forks already laid out in anticipation of Buck's arrival, a gesture that managed to ease his guilt further.

The subject hadn't come up again, but in the wake of that first night Eddie grew even more tactile. Touch for Buck had always been important, a way to ground him even on his worst days. Working side by side had taught Eddie when Buck needed it most, and he was always happy to provide it.

Now that it was Eddie who needed grounding, Buck couldn't find it in himself to deny him.

Eddie sat down onto the couch and laid out the food. Buck detoured to the kitchen to retrieve a couple bottles of water, and by the time he returned the plates were already loaded and the movie was starting. He took his place beside Eddie and wasn't surprised when Eddie scooted closer, closing the distance until there was no space between them from shoulder to knee.

They ate quickly and in silence, largely because Buck hadn't realized how hungry he was, but soon he sat back with his bottle of water and a sated sigh.

"Any interesting calls while I've been out?" Eddie asked, nudging the plates aside so he could prop his feet up on the table after he sat back. He leaned into Buck's side and Buck put his arm over the back of the couch, making the space as comfortable as possible.

"The usual. All the crazy shit happened on Halloween."

Eddie snorted and shifted, using Buck like his personal armrest. He rested his hand on Buck's knee, and Buck tensed.

He cleared his throat and took a sip of water, reminding himself that Eddie just needed normalcy while he regained his bearings. Concentrating on the movie was made impossible when Eddie started rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

God, this was going to kill him.

Buck glanced sideways after a few minutes and froze. Eddie was already staring intently at him. His fingers tightened in the beat of silence that followed.

"Okay," Buck huffed. The word fell from his mouth involuntarily and he swallowed as a small smile emerged on Eddie's face. He mentally went back through the week as they stared at each other, realizing after several days that it might not have been the concussion after all.

Or at least, that the concussion had just brought everything to light for both of them.

"Okay?" Eddie prompted.

Buck tipped his head, searching his eyes for answers. He held up his hand to stop Eddie as soon as he opened his mouth again. "No, wait a second. You can't tell me I was wrong here," he insisted.

Eddie shook his head as his smile widened into a grin. He closed the distance between them and covered Buck's mouth with his own, effectively shutting him up.

"You had a concussion!" Buck protested, his words trapped in between them. He tried to pull back and smiled despite himself.

"Shut up," Eddie ordered, chasing after him. He refused to allow Buck any distance, taking Buck's face in his hands and kissing him again. When Buck sat back, Eddie followed, twisting halfway into his lap.

"How was I supposed to know this was real?" Buck murmured against his lips. He set his hand on Eddie's hip to guide him.

"God, will you shut up?" Eddie groaned, breaking away long enough to seat himself across Buck's thighs. His knees tucked in on either side of Buck's hips and he framed Buck's head with his forearms, looking down at him with a mixture of wonder and exasperation. He couldn't escape even if he wanted to. And he very much did not want to.

A laugh bubbled forth and Buck pulled him closer, acquiescing to Eddie's assault. There would be time for answers after they made up for all the lost time.

[mendespideys]

would you be comfortable with writing a sick angst/fluff blurb for tom? you have been getting stomach pains for the past few days, blowing it off you think its that time of the month, but its your kidney stones? you pass out from the pain while at work tom rushes home from filming to be with you?

a/n: i’ve never had kidney stones and i hope i never do after googling it. i had to google the symptoms and everything so please don’t @ me. i hope you enjoy it though and that this is similar to what you were looking for. 

IT HAD STARTED small. So small, in fact, that you barely acknowledged it. Then, when the pain in your lower abdomen began radiating and became stronger, you had figured that it was nothing more than your upcoming period. Too busy to closely count the days, you had kept linking all of your symptoms to the time of the month.

Your body had always let you know when you were about to start your period and, unluckily for you, it was not kind when doing so. You were used to aches and cramps both pre and during; it was nothing new. When your lower back had begun aching, you blamed it on the at-home exercise you had decided to try out.

At one point, you had practically body-checked Tom while running to the restroom, emptying what you had eaten for lunch into the toilet. After cleaning you up, Tom had questioned your symptoms and you once again linked it with your period. It was bound to show up sometime, right?

Over the next week, your pain grew worse. It was stronger and the waves were more frequent. Tom was filming and despite filming in London, he was rarely home. Early mornings and late nights caused you to just miss each other as you had work. That was also probably why he never questioned your pain; he wasn’t home.

This morning, you had woken both nauseous and in pain. Tom had already gone to set by the time you woke up but had left some tea in the pot for you, which you were eternally grateful for.

“You alright, Y/N?”

You turn around to investigate the source of the voice, meeting the concerned eyes of your coworker. Truth be told, you don’t feel okay.

The pain had only worsened throughout the day and at this point, you’re convinced it’s something other than your period. It was your turn to take the morning shift today, so you had decided to at least call your doctor once you got off.

“Y-Yeah,” you nod and you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince yourself or Nathan. “I’m alright. Just some stomach pains.”

Over the next hour, your pain only intensifies. At one point, you can barely stand upright. You don’t have a clue what it could be but you know enough to know that intense stomach pain can’t be anything good. Your mind keeps racing, trying to find a reasoning behind the pain.

You can’t lie; you’re scared. Up until now, the pain had been manageable and somewhat easy to ignore. That’s out of the question now. The pain only continues to increase in strength and you drop the sweater you had been holding, having to clutch the check-out counter for support.

There are words being spoken but you can’t comprehend a single one of them, too preoccupied with willing the pain away. Your eyesight goes in and out of focus while your thoughts scramble together. Before you’re able to warn anyone, you feel yourself fall to the ground and everything goes black.

TOM IS DOING a last-minute script reading when Harrison bursts into his trailer. He knew all of the lines but for some reason, the nerves were getting to him and he wanted to do one last check. Little did he know, that those nerves were nothing compared to the ones he’s about to feel.

“Y/N!” Harrison exclaimed and Tom’s heart quickened at the sound of his other half’s name. “She’s, uh — Tom, she’s in the hospital. I don’t know what happened. Something about her collapsing at work.”

Tom is already ready to go before Harrison can fully finish his sentence. He snatches his car keys off the table next to him, almost knocking his best mate over while pushing past him to go outside. He can hear the sound of Harrison’s boots against the concrete as he scurries to catch up with him, but he doesn’t slow down.

Only when they reach his car, does Harrison speak again, suggesting that he should drive. To his surprise, Tom doesn’t argue. The two of them climb into the car and the blond backs out of the parking spot with ease, knowing how much his best friend would want to see his girlfriend.

The entire ride to the hospital is quiet; Tom has too much on his mind to make conversation and Harrison chooses not to. Harrison offers to park the car while Tom goes inside to figure out what’s going on.

Soon enough — although it felt like an eternity to Tom — he’s sitting in your hospital room, waiting for you to wake up. Once you begin to come to, he’s by your side in an instant. His wide, worried eyes are the first thing that meets you when you open your own. And if you hadn’t been drugged, you probably would have laughed.

“’s alright, darling, you’re okay.”

He smiles comfortingly, taking your hand into his own gently. It takes a moment for you to realize where you are and even longer to remember what happened. When you do, you feel yourself frown with confusion. What had happened?

“You passed out at work, d’you remember?” he reminds quietly and you nod. “You had kidney stones. They had to do emergency surgery because some were lodged in your urinary tract. The doctor told me you’ve probably felt the pain for days. Love, why didn’t you tell me?”

You clear your throat, smiling weakly. “I honestly thought it was all leading up to my time of the month and I didn’t want to worry you. I know you’re busy with work.”

Tom quickly shakes his head, his thumb running over your knuckles. He swallows and it seems like he’s trying to find the best way to formulate his words.

“Don’t ever think that you’re not more important than work, yeah? Worry me, please. No matter what I’m doing or where I am, let me know what’s going on with you. You’re my world and I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

[sleephyjhs]

You Have First Trimester Sickness (REACTION)

[ requested by @sweetbtsboys / masterlist ]

possible tw :: pregnancy sickness

a/n :: it’s gonna be a long one guys, hope you’re strapped in

KSJ

The excitement of learning you were expecting your first baby with Seokjin was soon followed by the dismal sickness caused by the surge of new hormones. You knew it was inevitable, however you never expected it to be as vile as you had experienced.

You had been sat in your en suite with your husband for the past hour, vomiting at irregular but frequent intervals. In the minute he had left to grab you a scrunchie for your hair, you’d somehow become more sick. As he sat back down and tied your hair for you, you questioned him as if he was supposed to know more than you.

“Is it normal to be this sick? One of these minutes I might just throw up my stomach.” You huffed, leaning back into his shoulders. Jin rubbed circles across your knuckles to comfort you, which any other time would have worked a lot better.

“Would you like to go and see a doctor? It’s always worth asking, jagi. Maybe they can give you something for it?” You tilted your red-tinted face to look him in the eyes. A few weeks prior, you had together agreed to do whatever was best for your growing baby. Maybe seeing a healthcare professional was best.

“Let me get myself together first. I can’t travel like this, Jin.”

“No worries, take your time.” He assured you, wrapping his long fingers around the hand he held so tightly.

MYG

When you were younger, you often heard that most women experienced pregnancy sickness in the morning. Cut to 11pm, when your body’s contents threatened to exit through your mouth, you began to realise most pregnancy expectations were going to become lies.

As you presumed your partner Yoongi was fast asleep, you couldn’t resist letting a few burning tears slip down your cheek and onto the tile flooring. You were overjoyed at the bundle of joy growing inside of you, but the gruelling process of carrying them around was proving to be slightly overwhelming for you.

“Can I get you anything?” You snapped your head around to find Yoongi crouching in the doorframe. Although he looked tired, it was obvious his concern for you.

While thinking of an answer, you swept away your tears believing there was a possibility he hadn’t seen them. Your hoarse throat made it clear how sick you really were, “Can you just stay for a while?” All of your willpower couldn’t stop your bottom lip from quivering as you made your request.

“Let it out, honey. It’s okay.” Yoongi assured you, writhing his arm around your curled shoulders. Knowing it would make you feel even worse, you let your pent up emotions flood from your eyes, “We’re going to get through this. Although it might not feel like it right now, you are more than capable of doing this.”

JHS

It seemed every 10 seconds you checked the time on your phone. Impatiently, you waited for your newly-wed husband, Hoseok, to finish his dance practice. Only 15 minutes remained, but you needed his help and comfort desperately.

You felt selfish that you needed Hoseok as much as you did, despite both him and the members telling you that you didn’t need to. He knew that you could become overwhelmed and panicked easily, and had told you it was never a problem for him to leave his schedule earlier to make sure you were okay and safe.

Rapidly, your sickness became unbearable. You felt as though a crossroads had been placed before you, and moving on from today’s sickness episode would be impossible. Although hesitating, you reached for your phone and dialled Hobi quicker than you ever had before.

By the time he had picked up, your heart had increased in speed, leading your hands to shake violently, “What’s up, angel?”

His chirpy response disheartened you, as you knew your low state would convert it into plain panic, “When will you be home? I need help clearing up and getting myself from the floor.”

You rushed your words into one breath, but before you could even finish, Hoseok had begun to reassure you, “Okay, don’t worry, I’m coming. Do you need anything on the way home? Stay on the phone with me, it’ll seem like I’ll get there sooner. You’re okay honey, you’re okay.”

KNJ

“Okay, I think I’m alright for a while.” You told Namjoon. He offered you both of his hands to help you up from the bathroom floor where you had sat for a generous period of the morning. Although you were heading quickly for your second trimester of pregnancy, your morning sickness was still very much prevalent.

“You seem to be a lot better today.” Namjoon pointed out to you, rubbing your shoulders as you turned to wash your hands, “Maybe the twins are making your sickness last longer?”

You really hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Putting up with constant vomiting for 14 weeks was enough, you couldn’t bear the thought of a whole 9 months of it.

As you dried your hands on the towel, you heard Namjoon begin to stammer over his words, “Did you want any vanilla ice cream?”

You couldn’t help but furrow your brows. It was a confusing question at least, “It’s only 7am, Joonie.”

“I know, but it can help your throat burn a little less. It’s worth a try, I know how much you hate mornings like this.” In no time after you agreeing to the sweet treat, Namjoon had already grasped your hand and had begun leading you towards the kitchen.

PJM

In less than half an hour, you and your husband, Jimin, were expected at the last apartment viewing you had booked. With your first baby arriving later that year, you had mutually agreed that more space would be needed. Where you lived now was just too small to raise a little kid.

Every morning that week, you had managed to avoid throwing up in the morning. Wrongly, you had convinced yourself your morning sickness had finally left. However as you applied your blush to the apples of your cheeks, the same doomed urge stormed through your stomach, and you had no choice than to retreat to the bathroom.

“Angel? Are you nearly ready? We should be leaving soon-“ Jimin’s reminders were cut short by a deep sigh. He bent down to your level and swept your falling hair back behind your ear, only to pin it to your head using his finger, “I thought we were past this?”

“So did I,” you replied, refusing to meet his eyes in case of an emergency, “Why did this have to happen today?”

“I can cancel it if you’re not up to it.” You refused before he had finished his sentence. You had to move soon, there was no choice around it, “Do you need some help clearing things up?”

You nodded, kneeling back onto your heels. Now you’d have to rush your makeup as well as tidy yourself up again. In a brief pause to glance at your appearance in the mirror, Jimin came to your side and lifted the blush brush you had dropped, “I know you precise you are with your makeup. I’ve got it covered.”

KTH

It was your last day in Europe with Taehyung, and already you felt guilty it had to begin this way. Your vacation to Vienna would be the last as just a couple, as three months ago you learned you were expecting your first child with your husband, Taehyung.

Prior to your vacation, you believed you had avoided morning sickness altogether. It surprised you that you hadn’t experienced any ill feelings, but relieved you nonetheless. Taehyung had joked your body knew that your fun vacation was coming to an end and so was hurling the worst at you.

“Tae, I can’t board a plane like this. I get travel sickness anyway-“ You sobbed into his chest. At that point in time, leaving the bathroom was out of the question. Nothing could have prepared you for the vile feeling that was brought along with the sickness you felt.

“My love, we don’t really have the choice. It’s gonna be a rough journey but hey, we’ll be home before you know it. And then you’ll be able to get much more comfortable which is better for you and our baby, right?”

He was right, but even his encouraging words couldn’t make today appear any easier to you, “Just.. why today? It couldn’t have been tomorrow or any time in the near future, it had to be today.”

Taehyung thought for a moment while caressing your hand with his fingers, “The way I see it, little one is just letting you know how comfortable of a home you’re giving them. Perhaps not in the most gracious way, but they have to get the message to us somehow.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his interesting analysis of your baby’s signals to you, “You can get through this, for them and for me.”

JJK

Winter sun filtered through a split in the curtains and onto the bed where you laid wrapped in your partner’s arms. You’d been awake for several minutes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb Jungkook’s sleep on purpose. Comeback season always left him particularly exhausted.

However you also knew that it wouldn’t be long until your routine morning sickness would force you from your warm sheets.Although your symptoms were a lot less violent than they were a few weeks ago, you still dreaded the mornings. Before long, you couldn’t control the urge to vomit any longer and tried to leave Jungkook’s arms.

In a sleepy daze, thinking you were playing with him, Jungkook groaned playfully as he tightened his grip, “Kook, you have to let me go. I’m serious, I’m gonna throw up.” He sat up quickly as you rushed away into the bathroom, and were soon joined by a half-asleep husband.

He yawned swiftly before pulling your scrambled hair from your face, “You should’ve woken me up before, you sound even worse than before.”

A brief pause in vomiting allowed you to explain yourself to him. You knew well that he didn’t like when you hid your hardships from him, “You were out cold last night, it’s obvious you’re exhausted. I’m okay, this is normal.”

Jungkook’s eyes fell at your selfless reasoning. While still holding your hair in one hand, he moved to sit behind you and rested his chin on your shoulder, “Don’t worry about me. I can always go back to sleep. You’re the one carrying precious cargo.”

^ thank you for your kind request! 💕

[prophecy-is-inevitable]

Tourniquet - Part 1

Jim Mason x Named Reader/OC

(Jim is in his 20s on this fic. I know most people prefer Y/N or second person, but this one is hard for me to write and hits very close to home, so I gave the reader a name in order for me to feel some distance when writing. It also didn't feel right to wish any of these feelings on "you". Adding it under a Read More because of the possible triggers.)

Summary: While in an appalling rehab hospital, Jim sees another person struggling to deal with life, emotions, and the crushing desire to leave it all behind. She ends up adding a little spark of excitement to his usually mundane day and drawing his interest.

Word Count: 1, 888 (is a baby intro chappy!)

Warnings: SO. MANY. WARNINGS. Please heed the warnings, loves, and don’t read if anything will upset you or make you uncomfortable. If I have missed anything, please let me know so I can add it as soon as possible. Thank you!

Angst, Poor Medical Practices, Rehab Setting, Trauma, Drug Use, Drug Overdose, Withdrawal Symptoms, Suicidal Thoughts, Attempted Suicide, Severe Depression, Self-Harm, Scars, Language, Violence.

Tourniquet - a device which applies pressure to a limb or extremity in order to limit – but not stop – the flow of blood. It may be used in emergencies, in surgery, or in post-operative rehabilitation.

It had been a while since he’d been brought to this place. The plain walls and terribly uncomfortable cot of his room greeted him day after day. Jim had lost count of how many days that had been. He remembered there were at least a couple days where Medina had come to visit and wished him a happy birthday. It should have been a day for them to celebrate together, and instead she was here with him in this awful place.

“I’m so sorry, Medina,” he would whisper as they laid on his cot together, nearly nose to nose. A slight burning sensation tickled his nose every time, but his eyes were too tired to release any more tears. He simply stared at his twin, or through her more like, and let the guilt eat him inside.

“Jim, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you. You’re my best friend, my other half. It’s just you and me, remember?” Medina always pulled him close and whispered comforting words to try and quell the storm inside of him. It just made him hate himself more. She should have been outside, free and living her life, enjoying the waves she loved so much. Of course, that wasn’t something he would ever share with his loving sister. He didn’t know what he would do without her.

Jim was just...confused. His best memories of the place were the days Medina would visit. She would bring magazines and articles on surfing or the places they had talked about visiting someday. Envisioning a life beyond this mundane and monotonous existence always brought him a fleeting joy, but that feeling always left with his sister. It was exhausting to have his emotions swinging back and forth inside of him like a tangled yo-yo. He wanted to see her, to feel happy for even the smallest moment, but was it worth the inevitable and painful crash that followed? The guilt that he was holding his sister back and the fear that she resented him?

“Perhaps we should limit your sister’s visits. We could see if that helps improve your mental state.” The doctor had made the suggestion one day after one of Jim’s episodes following Medina stopping by. He’d bruised his hand and nearly punched a hole in the wall in his frustration as he’d spiraled once again. Jim did not take the suggestion well. Orderlies were called in to restrain him while he cursed out the doctor, screaming that his sister “was all he had left”, and he’d been put under heavy sedation for at least a day until his mind and body were too numb to fight back anymore.

Rehab. A place where he was meant to heal and recover and lose his dependency on drugs and stolen medication. All he found was that they used his problems to load him up with all new drugs and all new problems. Most of his day was spent laying in the same spot on his cot, as close to the wall as possible, and counting the flecks of dirt that had gotten stuck in the paint on the wall. He found it hard to sleep after the episodes requiring sedation. His hands trembled and his heart raced. More often than not, his nights consisted of pacing the short distance of his room and clutched his chest in fear that his heart would burst through his ribcage. He couldn’t breathe and swore he was suffocating, panicking, crying for someone--anyone--to help him and make it stop. Please!

It was a day like any other the first time he saw her. They’d forced him into the common room where some patients played games together or watched whatever sitcom rerun showed on the shitty cable tv. Jim sat by the window, tired, empty eyes staring at the palm leaves swaying in the breeze as he dreamed of the ocean waves he’d surfed with Medina. He wondered if she was out there at that exact moment. His thoughts were interrupted by an unusual silence filling the room. Everyone turned to look at the doorway where a nurse was giving a tour to a slightly smaller young woman. Her hair curtained her face as she stood with her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. A sense of holding the shattering pieces of herself together, most likely. Not once did she look up to see who else was stuck in this place with her.

Jim didn’t blame her. Most of them came and went, only to come back again if they didn’t manage to find the eternal freedom they all chased at some point. Jim knew the mark of defeat she wore so obviously; it was identical to his and everyone else that was forced to be here. “Danger to themselves or others” they called them. Her shoulders tugged her upper body down to the ground, her steps slow and aimless as she shuffled over to sit at the far end of the window. Her legs tucked up to her chest and she shrank into the chair in an attempt to disappear. Jim’s eyes widened at the slow droplets of tears slipping down her cheeks. The dark circles beneath her eyes mirrored his own. She was sedated, too. He wondered what had happened to her, why she was here, and then he noticed the thick gauze bandages wrapped around her wrists. Oh.

Her eyes caught his staring at her forearms, and she quickly tugged the sleeves of her sweater down. He couldn’t tell if the look in her glassy eyes was hurt, embarrassment, or anger. Maybe all of the above. She wasn’t sure either. She curled in on herself and turned sideways to rest her forehead against the window. Her chest rose and fell with the jagged breaths she tried and failed to control. Jim forced his gaze back to the world outside, but the quiet sniffles from the armchair a few rows away brought his eyes back to her. She looked tired. So tired.

And she felt tired. So tired. It hurt to feel her heart beating. Each miserable thump inside of her chest continued to pump blood and forced her to keep breathing when all she wanted was for it to stop. Why couldn’t it just stop?! A soft sob parted her lips, and her distress only made her heart beat stronger. There was no more room for her to hide within herself. The muscles in her body shook for exhaustion and the effort she put into trying to will her body into an implosion. Weren’t the meds supposed to help them feel better? Now the guy across the room was staring at her like he didn’t have the same dead eyes and weight inside his soul. Asshole. Fuck him and his gorgeous crystal eyes that shone like the ocean in the sun.

One of the other patients that had been playing cards came over and sat down in the chair next to her. Her eyes remained glued to the outside, and that didn’t seem to sit well with her visitor. He wanted to know her name, why she was so sad, why she was there. Jim knew the guy, Harry, meant well, but he just didn’t know when to leave things alone and call it quits. It wasn’t going to end well for Harry. You never made someone already on edge feel interrogated and pressured. The biggest mistake came when he reached for her arm to see the bandages peeking out from under her sleeves. She jumped up quickly, ripping her arm out of his grasp, and cradled her arm protectively against her chest again.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Her scream filled the room, and she let loose a right hook that landed on his nose. 

“Oh, shit!” Jim’s eyes widened in surprise and an unusually bright smile lit up his face. The crunch of bone on bone let anyone within earshot know the guy’s nose was broken. He crumpled to the floor with a cry, holding a hand to his bleeding face, while she stood and panted over him with panicked eyes. A nurse rushed over quickly and looked between them, and two orderlies came running in. one of them bent to help Harry while the other held the girl firmly by her shoulders to keep her back.

“Samantha! What did you do?” The nurse glared at the young woman, Samantha, who opened and closed her mouth while trying to calm herself enough to form words in her defense. Her arms were wrapped around her middle again, and Jim could see her nails digging into her palms from where he sat. Large, fearful tears trickled down her cheeks as she looked up with wide eyes at the nurse towering over her.

“Harry grabbed her arm. She was just defending herself--I saw it. It looked like it hurt a lot.” Jim decided to help her out. Seeing her knock Harry on his ass had been the best thing he’d seen in months, if not years, and he still had a lazy smirk on his face from replaying it over in his head. Samantha stared at him in confusion. He had no reason to defend her, and yet here he was, trying to get her out of trouble. There had to be some ulterior motive, and that made him dangerous. She shrank back against the burly orderly holding her upper arms, even more so when the nurse reached forward and pulled her hand to move her sleeve up. Small patches of red had begun to blossom on the gauze, and the nurse sighed.

“Thank you, Jim.” The nurse nodded at him and quickly turned her attention back to the girl before her. One orderly was already taking Harry to get cleaned up and away from everyone else. “Come on, Samantha. Let’s get you looked at. You know you won’t be allowed to socialize with others if you can’t control your outbursts.”

“What a fucking loss,” she muttered under her breath.

“Samantha! Language!”

They walked past Jim, and he watched her go. Her eyes were trained on her slippers until she stepped next to him and gave him a sideways glance through her hair. He smiled softly only to be met with a teary glare. Jim lifted his hand in a weak attempt at a salutation. Samantha’s brow furrowed and she quickly turned away. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she owed him for stepping in on her behalf. The orderly pushed her forward and broke their eye contact. 

Jim wondered when he would see Samantha again, if she was going to be punished. Samantha hoped she didn’t have to see Jim’s blue tourmaline eyes peering into her ever again. It felt like he could unravel her from the inside out, and she didn’t need any help in that department. She glanced back at him once to see that he was back to looking out window, tired, empty eyes staring at the palm leaves swaying in the breeze as he dreamed of the ocean waves he’d surfed with Medina.

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

This one is a bit different and not for Michael. If you’d like to be removed from the taglist for this fic, please let me know!

@guiltyfiend @drasangel @michaellangdonstanaccount @jimmlangdon

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober No.20

“Ow! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Rios hissed through clenched teeth, staring at his shoulder in disbelief. An arrow was protruding from it, its head deeply buried in his flesh.

“Cris!”

Agnes dropped to one knee beside him, blue eyes anxious.

“Stay down!”

That was Elnor, his phaser spitting fire at the handful of natives they definitely shouldn’t have underestimated. More arrows clattered against the pile of boulders they were sheltering behind.

“Ow, dios, fucking hell!”

Rios was writhing on the ground like one of those idiots in an old cowboy movie, too stupid to take cover when the shit hit the fan.

“Don’t move! Stay still! Cris!”

Agnes had her hands on his chest and hip, trying to keep him from rolling. She looked afraid but determined in that shaky, fierce way she had when things went out of control. And keeping still was probably a good idea when you had an arrow stuck in you, so Rios made an effort at complying, hissing another curse to channel his pain and fury.

This was not how a first contact was supposed to go down.

“That’s it. Hold still.”

Rios rolled his head as much as the pain allowed to see what Agnes was doing. She took one look, then ripped his shirt open around the arrow shaft and inspected what they were dealing with. A little nauseous, Cris saw the arrow sticking out of his skin below his collarbone, shuddering with each breath he took, blood oozing up around the shaft and smearing his chest.

“Shit.”

Agnes tore her bandana from her neck and pressed it down around the wound. Rios bit back a scream.

“Picard!” She shouted into her comm badge. “We’re under attack! The captain’s been hit! Beam us up immediately!”

The reply was quick and disheartening: “Negative. Their defense system is blocking our transporter signal. I can’t get a lock.”

Oh, come on! They were shooting arrows, but their technology outsmarted La Sirena’s?!

Cris groaned.

Over Agnes’ shoulder, he saw Elnor rise cautiously and sweep the sight of his phaser across the landscape. But he’d stopped shooting, and the shower of arrows had ceased.

“Cris is hurt,” he heard Agnes shout urgently. “He needs medical assistance, and he needs it now!”

“I’m sorry, doctor Jurati,” the Emergency Engineering Hologram’s voice responded in Picard’s stead. “We’re tryna find a work-around, but I dinna ken how long that’ll take.”

“And Emil?” Agnes sounded anxious. “Can you send him down at least?”

“Negative.” That was the clean British accent of the EMH. “Holographic patterns are blocked as well. I will have to assist you from here. At least the bioscanners are working. Captain Rios’ vitals are indicating a traumatic injury including blood loss. What exactly is the nature of his medical emergency?”

Agnes groaned, tipping her head back to close her eyes for a second of endless frustration. Rios fought down a surge of fear. They were stranded, he was wounded with no help available, and if Agnes fell apart now…

But she didn’t. Rios saw her pull herself together. She took a deep breath, murmured a quick “okay”, and when she opened her eyes again, they were filled with new determination.

“He has an arrow stuck in his left shoulder, below his collarbone, close to the joint,” she reported. “There’s bleeding, but it doesn’t look arterial.”

“Copy that,” Emil’s voice came back. “Your observations concur with my readings. Do you see an exit wound?”

The bastard sounded intrigued.

Agnes touched Rios’ face. “Can you roll a little? I need to check your back.”

Cris nodded back and did as told. Gingerly, he shifted his body weight to his right side and lifted his left to turn on his side.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

He felt Agnes slide her hand behind his back and run it across his shoulder blade.

“Okay. It didn’t go through.” She exhaled. “No exit wound.”

Gently, she helped him back into his flat position.

“Meaning the head’s embedded inside,” said a matter-of-fact voice. “It will be all the more difficult to get it out.”

Elnor had joined them, apparently finished with their attackers. Judging by his usual efficiency, they were all lying stunned in the grass, out for the next hour or so. He’d had orders from Picard not to shoot to kill, and he mostly took orders seriously.

“Thanks for your candor,” Cris gritted out. “As usual, it’s very refreshing.”

The Romulan squatted down beside him, unperturbed, but he rested one hand on Rios’ arm in a comforting gesture. His honesty had nothing to do with unkindness.

“We’re not taking the arrow out here, Elnor,” Agnes informed them both. “We’ll leave that to Emil once we have Cris back on board.”

“Good idea,” Rios rasped. Agnes was still pressing the bandana down on his wound, and every time her fingers only so much as brushed against the arrow shaft, pain flared up sickeningly, burrowing along a fiery path through his shoulder. He couldn’t even imagine the agony of pulling the damn thing out without anesthesia.

“I’m afraid we can’t wait that long,” the EMH chimed in. “The scans tell me that Captain Rios’ system is being compromised by a class B biotoxin. I assume the arrowhead was coated with it.”

Chesumadre.

At least it explained the curious pins-and-needles feeling that had sprung up in Cris’ hands and feet. Unless that was related to shock, and Cris was pretty sure that shock was an item on the getting-shot-by-an-arrow checklist.

He craned his neck to look at Agnes. She looked… spooked.

“What’s a… class B biotoxin?” Elnor asked, sounding both curious and worried.

“It’s a type of poisonous agent that affects the central nervous system,” she explained, reverting to professionalism while Cris could see the worry in her eyes. “It paralyzes the muscles. Type B means it’s slower-acting, which is good, because it gives us a little time, otherwise…”

She put one hand against Cris’ neck, feeling his pulse, and bent lower to check his eyes.

“Do you feel any symptoms? Any numbness or weakness?”

Cris swallowed. “I have pins and needles in my hands and feet.”

Admittedly, the pain and the fear were slowly getting to him. He was used to the EMH materializing by his side in any case of emergency, wielding his tricorder and hyposprays and generally getting on his nerves while fixing him up. He was also used to stoically waving the hologram away and dealing with minor injuries on his own. But this wasn’t minor, and he could feel it.

Agnes’ cheeks flushed with worry.

“Can you squeeze my hand?”

She’d placed hers into his right, good one. Rios closed his fingers around hers and squeezed, but his grip felt odd, tingly, and from the way Agnes’ forehead creased he could tell something was wrong.

“Weakness in his right hand,” she spoke loudly into her comm unit. “I can’t check his left because of the injury.”

“Noted.” There was a moment of silence before the EMH spoke again, his voice sounding uncommonly grave. “Doctor Jurati, you have to remove the arrow, and you have to do it quickly.”

Oh fuck.

To Rios’ surprise, Agnes nodded without hesitation. She looked shaken, but like someone who had seen this coming. Her hand still held Cris’, and it was dry and warm.

“Affirmative,” she said. “How do I do it?”

“There is a small med kit in your backpack,” the EMH replied.

Elnor grabbed the backpack that she’d shucked off during the attack and pulled a silver case out from its bottom.

“I have it!”

“Open it,” Emil instructed. “It should hold disinfectant, bandages, a laser scalpel, a dermal regenerator and a hypospray with several loading vials.”

While Rios watched Agnes rifle through the kit, her lips moving as she read the medication labels to herself, he noticed a certain detachment overcoming him. Pain was still fanning out across his shoulder, reaching into his back and chest, but he somehow seemed to care less. The tingling sensation was creeping up his arms and legs. Was this shock or the poison?

“Agnes,” he rasped. “I… I feel strange.”

She stopped rummaging and stared at him. Her eyes were intense.

“What do you mean, ‘strange’?”

“I don’t… numb. Weird.”

It was true. His body felt heavy, and the tingling sensation had reached his stomach and neck. His thoughts as well felt… shrouded.

Agnes tore her eyes away from him and looked up, into the sky. “Emil? Did you hear this?”

“I did. We need to hurry, Doctor Jurati.”

Rios listened with increasing difficulty as the EMH listed instructions. Something about cutting wide enough to evacuate the arrowhead in one piece and about using the dermal regenerator to help get the bleeding under control. Something else about not cutting the axillary artery and staying clear of the radial nerve. Sadly, he didn’t catch anything about anesthetics, and he felt too sluggish to ask.

Agnes’ face reappeared in his line of vision. She brushed her blond curls out of her face and gave him a shaky smile.

“Okay, Cris. I’m going to be as quick as I can, but it’s going to hurt. Elnor will help you keep still.”

She blinked, blue eyes braver than anyone could have guessed she could be, and he met her gaze in silent trust. Elnor’s face hovered into view next to hers as he got into position, giving Cris a firm, wordless nod.

The EMH’s voice returned: “Ready, doctor Jurati?”

“Ready.”

Agnes pressed a hypospray to his neck that made him feel lightheaded. Elnor’s arms came down across his chest and hips, and Cris saw white-blue light flash as Agnes lifted the laser scalpel. Then the pain came. It bit into him, the smell of blood mixing with that of cauterized flesh, and he gasped. But the pain didn’t let up, and Agnes didn’t stop. He felt the laser cutting deep into his shoulder, relentless, and Cris arched his head back and released a scream. Elnor held him down, murmuring strings of Romulan - prayers? And Cris screamed, and Agnes cut, and the disembodied voice of the EMH drifted from the sky, and then Cris thought he would lose his mind as Agnes grabbed the arrow tight and pulled it up, pulled it through muscle and tissue and skin with a sick, slurping sound, and then, gracias a dios- darkness.

The pain wasn’t gone when he came to, an indefinite amount of lost time later, on La Sirena’s transporter pad, cradled in Elnor’s and Agnes’ arms, but the EMH was already bearing down on him with a hypospray. A hiss. A cool sensation, and then the pain ebbed away, and so did his fear at seeing his own chest splattered with blood and smeared all over Agnes. Cris heard voices, saw faces, but he couldn’t move, didn’t want to move. He only wanted to know if it was over and if he could go to sleep without worrying if he would ever wake up again.

He felt himself being lifted onto something soft, and, on his back, stared at the ceiling of the transporter room, then at Agnes leaning over him as they moved.

Her cheeks were wet, but she was smiling as she placed her hand on his forehead.

“It’s over. You’re okay.”

Cris closed his eyes and went to sleep.

[mcnypieces]

     A month later and at last I come bearing an update once again. It’s bound to be incredibly lengthy as life has not been its most placid, but I am here nonetheless.

     TL;DR for those also struggling with their time recently: Life stressful, Bun scare, WoW fun but friend/Mythic+ group is a mess due to losing a friend to toxicity, I will likely be remaking this multimuse blog and starting fresh there to give me more incentive to be around to write comfortably in a fresh, happy, non-cluttered place, complete with a new Birkan OC I talked about some months before now. Though I haven’t technically decided and was going to ask opinions, I will likely still be remaking, as everything here is a mess. Lulu’s blog will remain as is for now, as I am attached to it and has retained more activity from me ( not much more, however ), though I have also considered moving her with everyone as well to keep everyone in one place and maybe make my mind feel more focused in a collective space. I’m still very much on the fence about it. Thoughts on that are welcome.

     There was a bit of optimism at the beginning of my break to play WoW. However, a little less than a day into the launch, I noticed something off about the youngest of my rabbits. Hazel, a netherland dwarf gifted to me by a neighbor down the way during Christmas a couple years ago so she had friends and wasn’t alone during the day, developed a head tilt. It was enough to be noticeable, but nowhere near the cases most see posted in pictures. Head tilt in rabbits is often a very serious thing, as it can cause permanent damage and even death if not treated immediately. Anything from an injury to unkempt ears to a common parasite ( which is technically classified as a fungus ) to neurological troubles - the range is about as vast as self-diagnosing with WebMD. Torticollis in rabbits has a bunch of different causes, very few of which are relatively mild.

     I was - to say the least - in absolute hysterics. She was off balance, tripping over herself, curling up into herself trying to keep footing. To somebody that’s never seen it in person before, it looks like you’re watching an animal on the verge of passing from something neurological. I had no idea what was going on. To be frank, I was absolutely terrified. It was 1AM and very few vets were 24-hour, especially in this crisis, much less ones that could look at rabbits. I steeled myself to call the closest one for recommendations on what to do and where to go. Naturally, I was told there was nothing this place could do besides euthanasia ─ which, in my very emotional state, I was incredibly offended by the mere immediate suggestion of. Hazel had been acting completely normal up until then, and she still had her energy. She was trying to climb all over the place despite having no balance, and she showed no other symptoms of anything besides just tilting and falling over herself. At this point obviously I know they were simply stating that was the only thing they could do as they don’t take exotic pets, but in the moment, being offered it as the first and seemingly only solution made me upset. I’m sure that would be anybody in that situation. So, of course, I refused, and they told me of other places that would be able to at least see her at that time and give me more sound options.

     I find a 24 hour emergency pet clinic about thirty minutes away. There’s a place that for sure takes exotics, but it’s 2 hours away and closed at this hour. Okay, fine, I don’t have time to wait with this. I call the 24 hour clinic. They tell me they do see exotics and can treat the basics but they don’t have the equipment to properly diagnose anything for certain. Unfortunate, but I don’t have any other options at this point. They say they will take her and monitor her behavior to figure out where I should go from there. I take her there. I try not to break down again on the ride there, I try not to break down as they take her padded comfy box from me. They tell me they have another, more serious case they have to see to immediately but will monitor her and do a basic check-up. It will take them an hour at minimum, and I was welcome to stay in the parking lot. I decide against it, go home to clean up and prep a space for her while trying to steel myself more. It takes a couple hours for them to call back. 

     Lo and behold, they have no idea what’s wrong. As stated when I called, aside from the head tilting, she is acting completely normal. Eating, going to the bathroom, has her energy, no leg or eye issues that are common with the usual problems that lead to head tilting. What tests they can run are absolutely normal. They gave her what they referred to as “a bunny feast”, and she delighted herself in it with no problems, and they even brushed her down for me ( I didn’t get the chance yet, her winter coat was just coming in ). She just has a head tilt all of a sudden, out of nowhere. This is great news, but it’s also upsetting, because I still have no idea what’s going on. They give me medication for an infection and Metacam for the potential pain she could have been in, and sent me on my way to monitor her at home. If anything changed for the worse, I would take her to the vet in Raleigh two hours away to have actual tests done. 

     Okay, so I’m still in the dark on what’s wrong, but I have medication. Great. I watch her for two weeks, give her the infection medication every 12 hours and the pain medication the first 4 days. And, in time, her head tilt begins to disappear. That tells both the doctor and I that it was either 1) an ear infection, which was now cured, or 2) an injury. My mind has me leaning towards the latter, if only because I know how fast she runs all over the place and Jolyne, my cat, does play with her. They have done so for years now without issue, often times Jojo will be running away from Hazel rather than vice versa. Hazel will do loops back and forth and then suddenly charge at her in an attempt to catch her off guard. I have not let her out with Jojo since then in case roughhousing was in fact the cause, but Hazel is back to running around like the crazy thing she is. I’m still watching her every day, and all the rabbits will hopefully be getting new, large hutches for Christmas. Hazel’s has been ordered. To this moment, I still have no idea what caused her head tilt. What I did learn, however, is that there are a lot of rabbits that get euthanized due to head tilt, when most of the ailments - if caught early enough and with lengthy TLC - can be cured. Rabbits can even live happily with the tilt should it become permanent ( which it can be! ). Here is a happy bun who lived a wonderful life with a permanent head tilt. Much worse than the way Hazel’s was, but the common bad tilt nonetheless. I called to tell them the great news, how grateful I was they could do anything at all, and they were ecstatic to have me call them back. Things in that regard are now back to normal, but I keep an eye on her as per usual. Definitely not the kind of scare I was expecting out of nowhere, but one I received nonetheless.

     During the time I monitored her and kept her close at my side in her hutch ( I went out of the way to move her hutch in with me when I cleaned it, because why wouldn’t I? ), I enjoyed the launch of Shadowlands. My main WoW friend group, A/B/C/D/E, were all playing and content with what was happening. We even were talking to old friends, thinking about raiding, had two new friends coming to learn to play the game. It was great! But then base Mythics came out, and things went sour out of nowhere. 

     One of our long time friends in our original Mythic+ group became the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. We’ve all had our disagreements and issues with said friend for some time, as he has been very negative the past few months and a hamper on the friend group even before launch. Everyone knows things are at an all time low, and the world is not in its best state - but we come to play games to get away from the realities of things. We’re here to have fun and kid around, not to mope. This is not to say we’re not here to be supportive if something is genuinely wrong, or that sadness just isn’t allowed ever. That would be silly. We’re always here to support each other in rough times, and such is the reason we’re as tight-knit as we are to begin with. Always has been the case. 

     However, this was not your typical sad sort of negative. This was the permanent “Glass is Half Empty” mentality. Everything had to be negative. Win a BG match? He didn’t have fun because he got targeted down one time when he was alone on a caster. Clear base Mythics for the first time of the expansion? No time to celebrate, because he didn’t get a piece of gear out of it, or he didn’t do the burst he wanted on a trash pack because we didn’t cater to his pull plan. During the second week of Mythics, he was constantly complaining about not getting gear drops to the point it was making other members upset. No one likes doing eight dungeons, getting one or two drops, and both being pieces you don’t need. Hell, I did Mythic+ this entire week since it came out and I still have a Heroic neck on my body because it has a socket and great stats and I’ve not gotten another drop since. But to complain about not getting a drop and dunking on people who are getting the upgrade ─ which, in turn, betters the group ─ is just ridiculous. This was not exclusive to just WoW, either. Everything they played together when I was not present, he acted the same way ─ negative, upsetting, and very, very defensive whenever someone would tell him to knock it off. He’d pull the “oh you don’t care about me” card. He constantly felt like people were coming after him, even when nobody ever was, and that everyone just had something against him and we kept him there out of sheer pity ─ which was infuriating to all of us, the people who still considered him a friend and cared about him to tolerate the toxic behavior and try to work through it. He’d pretend to be a victim if you tried to call him out on bad behavior, acting as if he was being singled out, while also bad mouthing other people and poking fun at them and then disguising it as a joke ( or in his case, “a meme” ). When you’d do the same back, he’d pull the whole “dude that’s not cool, I get you’re joking but it’s not funny” attitude every time. He had to be right all the time, and if you tried to tell him he was wrong, he’d fight you on it until the bloody end, even when proven wrong earlier. He wanted to be catered to and, if things weren’t going the way he wanted, he was negative. If he wasn’t having fun, nobody else was allowed to have fun. 

     Friend A, who is essentially our leader that brought everybody together and often makes calls for the group ( though in reality we’re all just an aimless bunch of friends messing around and having fun ), has known Friend C for a longer than any of us. He considers him his best friend, and they have been close for many years since Cataclysm. We’re all friends, of course, but A and C have been close for a very long time. They are very supportive of one another, regardless of what happens, and always have been. However, even Friend A is getting very frustrated with Friend C’s behavior. Friend C has not always been like this. In fact, he used to be the complete opposite. He loves the guy to death and back, but the other members, particularly Friend D, is getting into mini verbal fisticuffs during dungeons disguised as friendly fun being poked and forth almost every night. Friend D complains about Friend C behind his back ( which he has been asked to tone down and, some nights, has been agreed with based on the issue at hand ). A new coworker of Friend A who is also a very chill, cool person had her own reservations about him when she joined due to his behavior and it kept her from joining voice calls. Hell, I got into an argument with him a week before launch due to his behavior, to which he tried to invalidate my argument by claiming I was “coming after him” and therefore my side was automatically invalid because I had a “personal vendetta” against him and me “shit-talking” him while making my points “comes off a certain way” ─ when the point I was making had absolutely nothing to do with him personally. Again, the same “I’m being attacked” mentality, when no such thing was happening.

     Eventually one night while he was complaining about loot, Friend A had a talk with him about not complaining about not getting loot anymore, as it was wearing on everyone’s nerves. Mythic+ would come out soon, loot would be flowing in, and everyone would eventually be geared, including him. This wasn’t the first time he was talked to in regards to the way he’d been acting in general. He agreed to tone it down, and that was that. But guess what? That didn’t happen. The next night we finish up our Mythics, and he has to physically stop himself from making a comment and covers it up with “nope, I promised I wouldn’t complain about loot” with a tone that sounds like someone is struggling really, really hard not to say something and is holding back. Normally this would be something nobody cares about and is part of the process but this isn’t the first time he said something about it. He then proceeds to complain anyway, spends night questioning the tank’s ( Friend D at the time ) pulls and complaining about being beat in DPS every other pull because “oh I don’t have gear cause the game hates me so-” when he’s not even doing his AoE rotation properly ( found this out later after everything fell through ). His attitude is so negative it’s affecting the way he plays and, to put it bluntly, he’s playing and acting like shit.

    So Friend A sits him down. Again. At this point he’s still trying his absolute best to work things out with him, but his foot has come down. His behavior for months has been toxic. People are getting fed up. He’s bringing down group morale. Everyone is worried his attitude is going to make the new people who are trying to learn the game quit because he’s constantly shit talking the game and pretending the world is ending in voice. Friend A tells him he’s here for him still and how he’s always here to talk if life is a mess and Friend C is still welcome, but he needs to get his shit straight. By the end of the chat, Friend C claims “that’s just how he is” and he can’t do anything about it ─ which is just such bullshit. We know good and well how he really is, and this ain’t it. He’s just too lazy, full of himself, and down on his luck to acknowledge he has a problem. He says it’s shitty of us not to “accept him for who he is” and how we all know his life is shit and that he’s justified. Friend A essentially tells him he doesn’t want somebody like that in his group. Friend C takes this as “oh I don’t want you here period”, essentially says “well I don’t want to be in a group that just pities me and takes me along because they feel bad and not because they’re actually my friends”, leaves the discord group, removes Friend A from discord, removes friend A from Battle.net, then blocks him in both places. Out of nowhere. Friend A then comes to announce that Friend C will no longer be a part of our group. This is a TL;DR, since I wasn’t there for the conversation and it’s been a little bit since I’ve asked Friend A exactly what was said and feel it inappropriate to ask for specifics again since it’s all behind us now and that night still upsets him to this moment.

    Since then, Friend C has come back to try and make amends to everyone, especially the group, as he dropped without telling anybody out of frustration and essentially said “fuck you” to the entire group because he was upset at his best friend. Friend A was very emotional about it after it happened as, like said, this was his best friend who essentially just claimed he didn’t care about him at all and just pitied him despite doing everything he could to try to keep everybody happy and even catering to Friend C at times against his better judgement. Despite that, however, Friend A has stated multiple times he would not even take Friend C back as a friend unless he had a life evaluation first. Friend A and Friend C sat down to have another talk after the dust settled so Friend C could apologize, as Friend C reached out supposedly to do so, but he still acted as though he didn’t do anything wrong. He swore constantly on his dog-who-he-loved-dearly’s ashes he didn’t say the shitty things he said to Friend A that night. He didn’t own up to anything he said or did, only apologized for leaving immediately and dipping on everyone else, as he worried he’d “burned the bridge”. Friend A did not welcome him back with open arms but told him his doors were still open to talk and were never closed to begin with ( Friend C closed them himself by leaving suddenly, after all ) and that he could talk to him again when he figured everything out. Everyone is at least on speaking terms again, but he has not rejoined the discord nor the game group, and wasn’t even playing for a time. Now he’s supposedly playing and having fun again on his own terms and doing things we haven’t. Supposedly. So our Mythic+ group had a gap in it, which was filled by one of the new friends who just started playing. Both new players in our group are learning fast, but it has slowed our progression down, which we accept. People have swapped around classes to find accommodations as well, with Friend A now tanking and Friend D healing as they did before, delaying progress further. But now with things decided and in place, we will begin to push again. After all, it’s only the first week of Mythic+. We haven’t really lost any important progress.

    Friend A was very upset and felt like there was more he could’ve done, but everyone in the group has told him day in and day out there was nothing else he could’ve done. Friend C still has a lot to sort out and has seemingly taken absolutely nothing from this situation.

    Both of these situations, on top of the seizures the person I consider a second mom to me still happening ( which she went in for today to be looked at again while she’s being treated for something else ), has made writing nigh impossible. I have been having a lot of fun playing WoW and the issue with Friend C, while a big hamper on things in the moment, hasn’t stopped me from enjoying it as is. Both the major hospitals near me have recently announced they are at full capacity on virus patients and will no longer be accepting more of them and, so long as there’s no immediate reason to do so, have asked people to stay inside as much as possible because of it. With Hazel’s emergency making me miss my dad’s small Thanksgiving as I was up all night that night and it was the next day, this means I will also not make it to his Christmas. I did not go to my mom’s get-together for Christmas either, as it was at her restaurant where she works and the number of people there made me nervous. She was sad, but there’s nothing I could really do to justify the risk. The fact people still want to have any kind of gathering even for the holidays blows my mind.

     That all being said, things have calmed down enough for me to consider making another attempt at writing again and retuning to the blogs I have missed dearly. The breaks are always nice, but I’ve had to take far too many of late, and struggling with the energy and mindset to write for months is really starting to get under this bun’s blue fur. In the time I’ve been away I’ve thought about remaking this blog, as it’s a complete mess and riddled with old things that are no longer a part of it. My tags are messed up, my info is all over the place, and I feel as though a fresh place filled with friends who are still active might speed up the process of getting me back on track. In addition to that, I’ve thought more about the OC idea I brought up some time ago and will be adding said OC to the roster once things are set-up, assuming I go through with the idea. I’ve also considered adding Lulubelle to the multimuse as well to keep everyone in one place, but as I’m attached to her blog and hers is more organized, I’m reluctant to do so. It is a thought and consideration, nonetheless. It will all take some time to do, but afterward, assuming it goes as expected, activity will resume once again.

      It will take some time, but hopefully things will be back to the way they were soon enough. ♥

[robin-christine]

The Day My Life Began

On June 27, 2018, I tried to commit suicide. This is my story.

I’m thankful that I’m here to tell it.

There was no one specific reason that caused me try to kill myself, rather it was a combination of factors; I was experiencing a major depressive episode at the time, the red flags exhibited by my fiancé who was living with me suddenly surfaced from my subconscious all at once, and I had just begun taking a new anti-depressant I had never taken before. The side effects anti-depressants are ironic; they can actually INCREASE thoughts of depression and suicide, and for the first time in almost 20 years of taking various anti-depressants, I experienced this potentially fatal side effect from the new anti-depressant I had recently begun taking.

Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your reasoning almost three years later my memories of that day are still few, fragmented and incomplete; I can only remember bits and pieces, and I’m sure those memories didn’t occur in the correct order in reality.

I remember having a screaming match with my (ex)-fiancé, I remember him using my mental illness to insult me, and I remember taking a hammer and destroying my laptop.

I remember going up to my mother’s apartment (at the time we were living in the same building) and screaming at her, likely nothing nice or loving.

I remember emptying an entire month’s worth of medication into a big pile on my bed, swallowing pills by the handful, and then casually thinking ‘what did I just do?’. I remember contemplating vomiting up the pills and then discarding the idea.

I remember going down to the lobby and waiting outside for the ambulance.

I remember yelling at my mother, who had come downstairs and was sitting silently on a bench in the lobby staring at the floor, ignoring my repeated screams of, “What the f*ck is wrong with you? You obviously don’t care I tried to kill myself since you’re sitting there, not saying a f*cking word! You won’t even look at me!”.

I remember getting into the ambulance and talking to the paramedics, but I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I remember was being in restraints in the ER, screaming and cursing at everyone, and

struggling frantically to break free. All I accomplished was cause severe bruising on both my wrists that took months to heal properly.

I remember overhearing one of the doctors who had helped save my life in the ER say to another doctor as they walked away from my bed, “I hate treating personality disorders. They’re the fucking worst”.

That’s all I remember about June 27, 2018 before I once again lost consciousness, and even after having my stomach pumped with charcoal, I remained that way for the following three days. It didn’t take long before I needed the help of a ventilator to breathe, and at one point the doctors weren’t sure I would make it. My mother told me that she had sat by my bed for those three days, crying silently while stroking my hair, telling me how much she loved me.

On June 30, 2018 I finally regained consciousness.

Again, almost three years later my memories of that day are still few, fragmented and incomplete; I can only remember bits and pieces, and I’m sure what I do remember isn’t in the right order.

I remember seeing my mother and sister sitting next to each other, holding each other’s hands when I opened my eyes. When they realized I was waking up, they both jumped up, my sister ran out the room to get a doctor, and my mother sat down next to me on the bed to hug me as tightly as she could and whisper how much she loved me, crying.

In what could have seconds, minutes, or hours my sister returned, accompanied by a doctor introduced as Dr. Richards, who checked my vitals and conducted the first of numerous psychiatric assessments I would undergo over the next few days.

I spent a total of seven days in the hospital, including the three days that I was unconscious. Once I regained consciousness, I was assessed physically, psychiatrically and psychologically daily during the remaining four days I was hospitalized. I had blood taken so often that the nurses ran out of veins from which they could get blood; my veins are very small, difficult to find, and collapse easily, so as a result I had numerous bruises all over my hands and arms. Combined with the bruises on my wrists I gave myself trying to free myself from the restraints when I was in the ER, they served as a reminder of what I had done for months as they slowly healed.

During those four days I was forbidden by the doctors from being alone, and had caregivers watching me 24/7. When my mother and sister would visit the caregiver would leave the room so we could talk privately, but as soon as they left, the caregiver returned. Originally I wasn’t even allowed to close the door to the bathroom in my private room, but after my first psychiatric assessment by Dr. Richards, he gave the caregivers permission to allow me to close the door, but not to lock it.

The psychiatrists who assessed me ended up re-diagnosing me almost completely; for years I had been diagnosed as Bipolar and had been prescribed medications that I didn’t need and shouldn’t have been taking. I was weaned off the majority of the medication I had been taking, and left the hospital with a prescription for only one anti-depressant I had taken before without any fatal side effects, one anti-anxiety medication, and a new diagnosis of Personality Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (PDNOS). After I left the hospital, I continued working with my psychiatrist on finally properly diagnosing my mental illnesses because very often people suffer from more than one, and e many mental illnesses have overlapping symptoms, making a proper diagnosis sometimes very difficult..

After my overdose, I called off my wedding since it was one of the reasons I had tried to commit suicide. I finally acknowledged all the red flags that my fiancé had exhibited but I had subconsciously repressed; he had anger management problems, was extremely controlling and had absolutely no understanding of mental illness, even though he thought he did. He thought he knew everything. He would make comments like ‘stop exaggerating’, ‘you don’t need medication’, and my favourite, ‘it’s all in your head’. No kidding! I suffer from mental illness; where else would it be? My arm? My leg? But I’m ashamed to admit that I allowed him to treat him with ignorance and arrogance, that I allowed him to use me as a figurative mental punching bag for his anger, and that I allowed him to control my every move, much in the same way that my abusive late father had; unfortunately I’m proof that the expression “women tend to be attracted to men like their fathers” is true.

My overdose drastically changed our family dynamics. Immediately afterwards, me, my mother and my sister became closer as a family, and for the first time ever, my sister and I got along and actually had serious talks. Unfortunately, the joy that had come with my survival only lasted a few months before my depression returned, and my mother and sister

both blamed me for causing our’s mother’s anxiety to become worse, and for our mother having to move out of her apartment our building and into an “Assisted Living” apartment. My sister, my cousins both in Toronto and in Israel, and my mother’s few friends saw how depressed and anxious she had become after her had mother passed away, and how my suicide attempt had made her depression and anxiety worse.

Six months before she moved, my relatives were in town from Israel and my sister was in town from Toronto, and the three of them helped my mother visit and decide into which building to move; I was only told less than two weeks before she moved. Before my overdose, my mother was one of my best friends to whom I could talk to about absolutely anything. After my overdose, she avoided talking to me as much as she could. So although I didn’t cause my mother’s depression and anxiety, I did make them both worse for her.

I have to accept to consequences of my actions, but I didn’t expect my mother and sister to hate me as much as they do for attempting to commit suicide, for relapsing into a severe depression within a few months that from which, two years later, I’m still struggling to recover, and for causing them so much pain.

My sister eventually decided she’d had enough of my depression which manifested as anger and bitchiness, decided that she didn’t want or need me in her life, and didn’t want or need to deal with me any longer because my of anger, jealousy and resentment towards her, and blocked every possible method of communication to prevent me from contacting her.

When she had emergency gallbladder surgery a few months ago, I sent her a ‘Get Well’ card with what I thought was a nice message, but she never acknowledged receiving it. She’s made it clear that she has cut me out of her life completely, and I doubt I’ll ever see or speak to her again. I don’t know if it was easy or painful for her to cut all ties with me, but we haven’t spoken in at least 18 months.

My suicide attempt also changed my perspective about life, both positively and negatively. I finally forgave my father for what he did to me and the resulting negative psychiatric consequences he caused, 15 years after he had passed away. I believe that he, and the rest of my family and friends who have already passed helped save my life.

I started believing in G-D again; I regained my faith in a religion I felt had abandoned me years ago, but had been wrong. I should have died three times; in a car that flipped numerous times on the Trans-Canada highway into a ditch separating westbound from eastbound traffic lanes, in a grease fire in one of my apartments and by overdosing.

Obviously I’m here for a reason, and will gladly remain here until I’ve accomplished what I was put on this earth to do.

Finally at age 44, I have been properly diagnosed with numerous mental illnesses: Depression, Severe Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Personality Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (PDNOS) with traits of Borderline (BPD), Avoidant (AvPD) and Narcissistic (NPD) Personality Disorders, Adjustment Disorder (AjD), Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Unfortunately, Personality Disorders can’t be treated with medication but they can be managed with specialized therapy. So I take medication and have done Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT) which has helped tremendously.

Now I take pleasure in the smallest of things; a good cup of coffee, a sunny day, a good book, losing half a pound, having clean socks and underwear, a good movie, sleeping late, among other things.

I know that medication and therapy will never completely obliterate my illnesses, I’ll have relapses of depressive episodes and I’ll have thoughts of suicide, but I know I won’t act on them. I’ve learned to enjoy life.

I will never again attempt to commit suicide.

[simplyclockwork]

Having just read your latest fic with a vulnerable Sherlock and reassuring John (which you did brilliantly), I’d love a fic please where Sherlock has an accident that he fears might permanently harm him (eg. paralysed, blinded or scarred). John is reassuring, telling him that whatever happens he will see him through it. Be there for him. I would prefer it if ultimately Sherlock is ok, but this has been the push they need to get together.

Sorry that this took so long, but the words just didn’t want to come. Got there in the end, tho. Also, I wanted to recommend a fic I wrote that might also fit this prompt. It’s a sick fic rather than a trauma-based fic, but a similar premise:

Warm Heart.

You can also read your fill on Ao3 here.

The rest is under the page break. 

-------

It wasn’t the first time Sherlock ran ahead of everyone else, but it was the first time John felt a strange sense of disquiet at the sight of Sherlock’s coattails disappearing into the abandoned building ahead of him. Though his military life was behind him, the lessons learned in the desert still lingered, and John had learned to trust his instincts. Even if Sherlock was too far ahead for John to pull him back, he had a responsibility to listen to his gut and protect whoever he still could.

Stumbling to a halt, he threw out an arm, catching Lestrade across the chest and keeping him from rushing forward. “Wait,” he said in a hard voice, and the DI lifted a hand to halt his officers as John cupped his palms around his mouth and shouted, “Sherlock!”  Nothing. Silence. He tried again, growing unease twisting his stomach into knots. “Sherlock! Come back, something isn’t—" right, he’d planned to say, but then the windows in the building in front of them blew out, and a massive explosion shook the ground. It threw John off balance, nearly off his feet before he was running, eyes wide as dust and shrapnel burst out of the second-floor windows. “Sherlock!”

���John!” Lestrade grabbed for him, catching and missing as John surged out of his reach and toward the building. “John, you can’t just—John!”

He ignored the call, ducking low to the ground as he passed through the door. He had been a soldier, dammit, had run into worse situations than a burning building. He wasn’t going to let something as basic as structural integrity stop him from finding Sherlock. 

And what if you find him and the roof caves in on you both? John’s rational mind asked, making John shake his head. If he and Sherlock both died, crushed in the rubble, so be it. At least they’d go together.

And wasn’t that a thought John didn’t want to look at too closely.

As he ducked into the building, John narrowed his eyes against the grit and dust swirling in the air. He searched the gloom, gaze passing over scattered debris from the partially-collapsed second floor. He was about to move deeper inside when his eyes caught on a shape, blurred by the dark. Squinting, John moved forward carefully, glancing up at the roof as he heard the structure groan and creak overhead. 

Once he was closer, he found his suspicions confirmed: it was Sherlock. He lay on his side with his legs haphazard, and he wasn’t moving.

“Sherlock?” John called, stepping over twisted steel and jagged chunks of concrete. He scraped his shin on something sharp-edged and metal, the sound of emergency vehicles rising in the distance. John ignored the pain, adrenaline pumping through his veins.“Sherlock.” He knelt beside the man, realizing up-close that Sherlock was almost prone, half-on his side, half-on his front, the collar of his coat obscuring his face. Finding Sherlock’s pulse with his fingertips, careful not to shift his neck or spine, John sighed a relieved breath as he found it, fluttering but strong. 

Blood oozed bright red down Sherlock’s pale, dust-covered face, matting his curls against his skull, and he didn’t move when John called his name again.

____________

 Head injuries were tricky. A doctor himself, John knew the multitude of symptoms and side-effects of head trauma, could list them backwards and forwards, and rattle off a string of reassurances to patients who had taken a knock to the head. 

What he couldn’t do was look Sherlock in the eye and tell him he’d be able to move his right arm again, or reassure him that he would be able to remember forgotten words and new information with crisp, perfect clarity once more. 

All John could do was take the frustrated rage spitting out of Sherlock’s tight lips in silence, knowing his reassurance would fall on unhearing ears. Instead, John helped Sherlock up the stairs to 221B after the doctor discharged them both and tried not to take it personally when Sherlock snarled at him.

By the time he helped Sherlock settle into bed, the furious fight seemed to have seeped out of him. Sherlock slumped against the pillows, his face pale beneath the plasters and bruises on his skin, the thick, black thread of stitches high on his temple.

“How long?” he asked, his voice a rasp. “How long until I’m… me?” John paused in smoothing the blanket over Sherlock’s legs. He thought of the blast force that had thrown Sherlock against a concrete wall like a ragdoll. Of the swelling in his brain. His breathing faltered, and he brushed his hands over the comforter, fingers shaking slightly as he settled on the edge of the mattress.

“I can’t answer that,” he replied softly. Sherlock’s brow furrowed, and he sank deeper into the blankets. John reached out to touch his shoulder, expecting Sherlock to snap at him. Instead, the detective just sighed, and John breathed out a quiet, heavy breath of his own. “We’ll get through it,” he promised, letting himself grip Sherlock’s shoulder in a brief, tight hold. “I promise.”

He received no answer, and, gradually, Sherlock’s breathing slowed. Even when he seemed to be asleep, John lingered, finding himself unable to leave. 

 ____________

 Sherlock struggled to squeeze the end of a pipette with his reluctant fingers, and John carefully set aside his tea in the sitting room. He waited, counting silently beneath his breath as Sherlock’s expression darkened. Once he looked like an ominous storm cloud, John breathed a soft sigh before Sherlock flung the little plastic tool across the kitchen. The petri dish and microscope might have followed if not for John’s intervention.

“Hey, Sherlock. Wait, Sherlock—” He swept into the kitchen and caught Sherlock’s shaking hands in his. At first, he received a volley of harsh deductions and sharp words before they dissolved into furious breaths and closed eyes. Sherlock gripped John’s wrists in unsteady hands and pressed his lips tightly together. Looking down at him, the display of vulnerability struck John. With a gentle twist, he shifted his hands until their fingers interlaced, Sherlock’s eyes sliding open in surprise. 

“How do you handle it?” he asked quietly. John frowned, feeling the tremour in Sherlock’s hands vibrating against his own.

“How do I handle…?” John cocked his head questioningly, and Sherlock’s gaze shifted away.

“The restrictions…” he sighed, eyes closing once more. “Your body, no longer doing as it’s told.” 

John’s hands tightened, and he swallowed before finding his voice. “It’s not easy,” he admitted, slowly, with reluctance. He breathed a soft exhale and squeezed Sherlock’s hands again. “But it gets easier. And… and it helps, not being alone.” 

Brow furrowed, Sherlock gazed up at John with imperceptible emotion flickering in his eyes. Finally, after studying John’s face closely, he nodded. John forced a tight little smile before unlacing their fingers and stepping away. He paused to pick up the pipette and set it on the table, leaving Sherlock to his speculative silence. 

On his way back to his chair, John felt Sherlock’s eyes on his back. 

 ____________

 Four days after the accident, Sherlock barged into the bathroom, just as John was exiting the shower. Between the interruption and nearly having a heart attack, John barely managed to snag a towel to wrap around his waist and not slip on the bath mat. 

“My hand, John! My hand!” 

Filled with trepidation, John froze, turning wide, panicked eyes on his flatmate. “What happened? Are you hurt? Are you okay?” He tried to catch the hands waving wildly before his face, but it was Sherlock who grabbed John’s hands instead, holding fast. They were nearly steady, only a faint tremour rippling through them as their fingers fit between each other’s knuckles. 

“It’s working,” Sherlock announced triumphantly, his eyes glittering in a way John had not seen since the accident. He looked a little dazed, bruises still fading on his face, the stitches stark against his skin. But there was a hint of healthy colour in Sherlock’s cheeks, and John’s lips curled into an automatic smile at the sight of Sherlock’s satisfaction. 

“Wonderful,” he replied, turning Sherlock’s hand over in his own. “Flex the fingers for me?” Sherlock did as requested, his smile widening as each finger bent and straightened, only the barest hint of a shiver in his pinky. John grinned. “That’s fantastic.” When he looked up, the faint flush in Sherlock’s skin deepened, his lashes fluttering as his gaze dropped beneath John’s scrutiny. He looked suddenly bashful, almost timid, and John sucked in a breath at the abrupt softening. As if drawn by the display of fragile humanity, John tilted forward, caught himself, and cleared his throat. “Fantastic,” he repeated, his voice a little rough. Sherlock coughed as well, slipping his hands from John’s hold and taking a step back. He seemed to take notice of John’s state of undress and averted his eyes.

“I’ll just… leave you to…” he waved his fingers, barely a delay in the movement, and hurried from the steamy atmosphere of the bathroom. John bit his lip and looked after him before tearing his eyes away and closing the door. After only a moment of hesitation, he chose not to lock it.

 ____________

 After the excitement of Sherlock’s partial paralysis passing, Sherlock rode the high of his regained dexterity for all of two days before he tripped, knocked his head, and wound up back at the A&E. His memory issues, merely a mild frustration before, woke as a vicious beast. 

By the time they were back at Baker Street with a fresh warning for strict bed rest, Sherlock had forgotten John’s name twice, called a cab a ‘chariot,’ and devolved into a thin-lipped staring contest with the door knocker when he couldn’t recall the word. 

John ushered him inside, trying not to think of how the moment mirrored their first time home after the explosion. When he tried to steer Sherlock toward his bedroom, he met resistance in the form of Sherlock digging in his heels. Sherlock whirled on him (likely not a pleasant movement for someone with vertigo and a double concussion), and glaring hard into his face, now inches from Sherlock’s. 

“What?” John asked, startled, caught off guard, and flustered all at once. Sherlock’s mouth opened, but nothing emerged, and his eyes blazed. John winced in sympathy before he could suppress the urge, and Sherlock’s expression darkened. 

“John,” he hissed, finally remembering the name just in time to hurl it like a witch’s curse. 

“You remembered—” John began, his tone soothing, only for Sherlock’s eyes to narrow and his lip to curl.

“Don’t… p… p…?” Sherlock frowned, mouth twisting into a hard moue. When John cocked his head in silent inquiry, waiting patiently, Sherlock’s frown shifted into a scowl, and he jabbed a finger into John’s chest. “Don’t!”

“I won’t,” John promised with no idea what he agreed to, but willing to agree if it meant Sherlock might calm and concede to some bed rest. 

Unfortunately, Sherlock was just getting started. “Don’t. It,” he forced out through his teeth, and John pressed his lips together. 

“I won’t,” he repeated, his voice dropping into a calming tone. Sherlock’s hands found his shoulders, fingers curling around the ridges of John’s trapezius muscles. John winced at the force digging into the tender flesh but held his ground beneath Sherlock’s sudden wrath.

“Don’t,” Sherlock hissed one final time, and John nodded gravely, trying to steer Sherlock back around and into the bedroom at the end of the hall. But Sherlock, despite his wooziness and obvious vertigo, just dug his fingers harder into John’s shoulders and stared at him. His eyes narrowed to little slits, mouth a thin, white line in his flushed face. “I can’t,” he said, providing or unable to provide any further explanation. Looking at him, at the uncertainty in his eyes, John lifted his hands, hesitated, and set them lightly on Sherlock’s waist. He squeezed, drawing Sherlock marginally closer, surprised when he allowed it.

“Together,” John said in a voice made low by his fervent tone. “We’re in this together.” Sherlock’s eyelids flickered, and he wet his lips before nodding. The gesture filled John with a surge of relief, both at Sherlock’s lack of vitriol at the sentiment and for the easy acceptance of his support. “Now.” John cleared his throat and dropped one hand from Sherlock’s waist, slipping the other around Sherlock’s torso to help him stay upright. “Bed for you.” 

Sherlock made a sour face but didn’t fight. Instead, he let John guide him down the hall. To John’s pleased surprise, he leaned into the contact and slipped into bed without fuss. John settled the pillows around him, making sure he was comfortable. This time, he didn’t linger, slipping away as soon as Sherlock’s eyes closed.

 ____________

 Six days after the tripping incident, Sherlock began to move around more, shuffling about the flat with a perturbed expression on his face. The bruises had almost entirely faded, only a stubborn tinge of yellow lingering near his eye, the edge of his jaw. The stitches were gone, the wound puckered and red, but closed. His fingers and hand were cooperative, barely a shake now and then, mostly ignored.

His memory still hadn’t stabilized, far from its usual power, and Sherlock haunted the sitting room like a foreboding shadow. John, caught between wanting to support him or give space, found himself drifting aimlessly from sitting room to kitchen, carrying a cup of tea once, a piece of toast the next, then just lingering by the sink and frowning out the window. Sherlock’s aphasia had improved, but the smaller details remained out of reach, and Sherlock scowled at his violin. Having forgotten the name for the frets, he looked thunderous, and John ran water in the sink to sound busy.

The air inside the flat felt like the electric stretch before a storm, and he absently flicked water droplets from his fingers onto the counter. Things would get better in time. It would just take time. 

Sherlock began to huff and growl in the sitting room before his mobile flew across the room and landed in John’s chair. 

Still looking out the window, his hand on the tap, John pursed his lips and waited for the sound of his name. When it came, it was in a snarl, and he shut off the sink before turning toward the sitting room. He startled, finding Sherlock standing in the open space between the kitchen and living room and halted. Sherlock stood rigidly, hands locked into tight fists at his sides. He was eyeing John with a dark expression, and John watched him cautiously. 

“You alright?” he said slowly, bracing himself for a barrage of fury and acidic bite. To his bemusement, Sherlock held out his hand, flinging his arm outward hard enough that John heard the joint pop in his elbow. Shooting him a questioning look and receiving no explanation, John moved forward and took the offered hand. Sherlock’s eyes darted over his face, and his scrutiny was sharp enough that John thought he could feel it upon his skin. 

Still without speaking, his lips pressed together in a tight line, Sherlock turned and pulled John along with him toward the couch. John followed in a curious daze, letting Sherlock point him toward the cushion on the left side. His brows rising, John sat and allowed Sherlock to arrange him into the corner between sofa back and arm with his feet on the floor, feeling bemused.

When he opened his mouth to ask what the point of the display was, Sherlock abruptly turned away, lay across the sofa, and dropped his head in John’s lap. He stretched his feet toward the far arm and closed his eyes with a sigh.

To John’s continued and stunned confusion, Sherlock’s head lolled against his stomach, his tense mouth softened, and he went loose. John wiggled uncertainly and received a low, irritated, “John,” for his troubles. 

He subsided, still bewildered, and watched as Sherlock relaxed until he seemed to be asleep. His breathing came slow and even. After a moment of hesitation, John settled a hand on the side of Sherlock’s neck, fingers just brushing the soft curls at his nape. Sherlock hummed quietly, even as John braced himself for rejection. But Sherlock merely curled his legs toward his chest, his eyes still closed.

As the flat settled into a strange, comfortable silence around them, John let his hand creep a little higher, grazing his fingers into silky locks. Sherlock hummed again, shifting slightly, his face nuzzled into John’s thigh. The sensation of his warm breath sent a heady shiver through John’s body, and he sucked in a breath, holding it when Sherlock cracked open one eye and peered up at him. 

“You can turn on the… the…” his brow furrowed, and he lifted a heavy arm to flick his fingers at the television. “The thing.” Feeling the sudden ripple of tension through Sherlock’s body, John automatically stroked his fingers through Sherlock’s curls, making the detective drop his arm and settle again. Still holding his breath, John dug for the remote in the cushion beneath him, lifting his hips to find the device and making Sherlock voice a soft noise of irritation. 

After John had sunk back down, he cautiously leaned into the sofa and flicked on the telly. The light from the screen danced over Sherlock’s face, picking up the silvery flickers of his half-open eyes. John turned the channel to something mindless but found himself ignorant to whatever was happening on the program. He watched the shifting illumination soften Sherlock’s sharp angles, lifting a slow hand to card his fingers into the curls at his nape again. Sherlock hummed low in his throat once more, eyelids still half-mast.

 ____________

 John woke with a stiff shoulder and a cottony taste in his mouth. He blinked once, then again, when he realized there was a blanket draped over him. Looking around the sitting room, John found himself alone. As he began to feel disoriented, a sound in the kitchen of metal against metal drew his attention. John tilted forward to see Sherlock retrieving a spoon from in the sink, his expression tense and irritated. 

Watching him, John felt a flood of warmth, his thoughts flashing back to the previous night. To the sensation of Sherlock’s cheek against his thigh, the warm brush of his breath through the thick fabric of John’s jeans. There had been nothing sexual about the event, and John’s reaction to it now wasn’t either. He felt lighter than he had since finding Sherlock lying on the floor in the wrecked building, his face red with blood and his body deathly still. 

After shaking the stiff tension from his shoulder, John padded into the kitchen. He cleared his throat, suddenly cautious, and Sherlock looked up from staring at the spoon in his hand. Their eyes met, and John froze, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. He waited, expectant and a little apprehensive.

To his surprise, Sherlock held out the spoon with a helpless, frustrated moue to his full lips. “What is this?” he demanded, and John peered at the object, confused.

“A… spoon?”

Triumph flooded Sherlock’s face, quickly replaced with irritation. “Spoon. Obvious.” He dropped it back into the sink with a clatter. “I can’t even remember the words for eating utensils, John,” he said, his voice strained and unsteady. “My brain is my hard drive.” Raising his eyes, he looked at John. “How am I supposed to do my work if I can’t even remember what a… a…” his brow furrowed, and he gestured angrily into the sink.

“Spoon,” John offered in a quiet voice, moving nearer until they were standing over the sink together, shoulder to shoulder. “And it could come back,” he spoke carefully, not wanting to offer false hope. “It might take a bit, and some work, but it might not be permanent.” 

“Might, could,” Sherlock repeated the words in a scoff, his hands tightening around the edge of the counter. “And if it doesn’t get better? If my mind is never the same?” He raised his head and looked John in the eye, their faces inches apart. John felt Sherlock’s tense exhale against his cheek and pressed his lips together. 

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said, rock-solid confidence in his reply. When Sherlock began to look away, his jaw clenching with frustration, John reached out and caught his chin with his fingers. He did it without thinking, and Sherlock’s eyes widened just a little before John dropped his hand, suddenly self-conscious. “I mean it, Sherlock. Whatever you need to make it work, we’ll do it. If you need me to be your memory, I’ll do it.” His lips tugged upward at the corner, and he patted his temple. “I already write everything down, so I don’t forget. It’s like I’ve been in training.” 

Sherlock’s mouth twitched. It was almost a smile, and John felt a surge of relief at the hint. Catching Sherlock’s upper arm, he squeezed gently. 

“Together,” he reminded, holding Sherlock’s gaze. 

Sherlock nodded slowly, breathing a loud, heavy sigh before he replied, “Together.” 

 ____________

 It was their first case since the accident. The case was a break-in, barely a four, but Sherlock had agreed to John’s suggestion to start small, to start simple. 

They’d barely been on scene for fifteen minutes when Sherlock turned to Lestrade to make a string of deductions, lost his train of thought as he forgot a word, and subsided into a bewildered silence. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his hands into fists, falling silent. Lestrade raised an eyebrow at John over his shoulder. 

Before John could step forward, before he could even open his mouth and offer support, Anderson interrupted, “What’s the matter, freak?” he snapped, nose scrunched up in disdain. “Cat got your tongue?”

John’s hand flexed into a fist, and he took a threatening step forward. But Sherlock’s arm shot out and stopped him. Shoulders stiff, his posture rigid and tense, Sherlock drew in a breath. As if he hadn’t heard Anderson at all, he turned back to Lestrade, spat out the word, “Sister,” then spun on his heel and strode out of the house. John hurried after him.

“You should have let me hit him,” John muttered, slowing once he had caught up to Sherlock, matching his pace. “It’s long overdue.”

“He’s a moron,” Sherlock replied, face flushed with anger that was beginning to ebb into something else. “Of course I remember that word.”

“Sherlock…” John caught his arm and tugged him to a gentle stop. “It doesn’t make you any less.” At Sherlock’s irate stare, he stroked a thumb over the heavy wool of Sherlock’s coat. “It doesn’t,” he insisted. “You’re still brilliant, still a genius.” After a second of hesitation, he reached up and drifted the pad of his thumb over Sherlock’s temple. “It’s just words. Certain words. There are tricks, techniques, things you can try.” His hand dropped back to his side, and John found himself faced with Sherlock’s full focus. “I’ll help. We’ll figure it out together.” He offered a small, tentative smile, still gripping Sherlock’s arm. “Yeah?”

Silent, Sherlock studied his face, eyes darting over John’s earnest expression. Finally, he looked away. “Alright, John.” 

John grinned and squeezed his arm again. “Alright. Good. Great.” They began walking again, Sherlock scanning the road for a cab. 

As John’s hand dropped from his arm, Sherlock caught it with his own and twined their fingers together. The gesture took John by surprise, but he coughed and wiped his face blank, though a small smile lingered on his lips, mirrored on Sherlock’s face. 

 ____________

 “Okay, hey, wait,” John said, catching Sherlock’s angrily fluttering hands. He drew them together, clasped them between his own. “The word you want. Tell me what it means. Describe it.”

Huffing a sharp breath between his teeth, Sherlock closed his eyes. John stood over him, where he sat at the kitchen table, feeling the minute tremours in Sherlock’s fingers against his palms. He grasped gently and waited, watching Sherlock’s brow furrow in thought.

“It’s when… when you… cut something out.” His nose crinkled with the force of his frown, the sight deeply endearing. John shook himself out of his thought, resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkle away. “Remove something? Cut it out of someone. There’s an e-sound.” Sherlock’s eyes flashed open, the pupils huge then contracting in the kitchen light.

“Okay.” John drew in a deep breath, thought for a moment. “Expunge? Eradicate?” Sherlock shook his head, lips pressing together. 

“More… medical.”

John paused, thinking. He flicked through memorized medical terminology until something stuck. “Excise?” he asked tentatively and grinned as Sherlock’s face lit up.

“Yes! Yes, John, that’s it.” A genuinely pleased smile warmed Sherlock’s expression, and John breathed a soft laugh. 

“Good. I’m glad we found it.” He moved to drop his hands, but Sherlock tangled their fingers together and held his gaze.

“Thank you,” he said in a soft voice, and John felt his face grow warm. 

“Of course.”

 ____________

 Through fits and starts, they found a rhythm, a way to cover the gaps where Sherlock’s brain struggled. And, through it all, something changed between them. Drew them closer, shifted their dynamic. Boundaries blurred, reformed until sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the sofa was no longer a surprise. Until Sherlock’s head landing in his lap didn’t even inspire an eyebrow twitch on John’s part. 

At cases, they worked as a team, just as they always had. But things became seamless, the two of them playing off one another without speaking, communicating through shared looks and gestures. 

It carried through into their home life, where John had Sherlock’s tea ready before he even asked, and Sherlock called for takeaway minutes before John’s stomach began to growl. 

Life became softer. Even as Sherlock improved, the mellowness lingered. Once, John would have thought they might revert to the way things had been, but they didn’t. Sherlock’s memory gaps shrank, and his word aphasia improved, and still, each was like an extension of the other. 

The evening when John looked down to find Sherlock already looking back at him, head in its now-usual spot on John’s lap, he wasn’t shocked to see his feelings of love looking back at him. Catching the way Sherlock’s eyes appeared warm and liquid as they stared up at him, John smiled.

Sherlock mirrored the expression, and it was the simplest thing to bend down. To meet Sherlock as he tilted up on his elbow and reached for John, his long fingers wrapping over the nape of John’s neck. 

Their mouths met, lips brushing soft, then harder, John’s fingernails lightly catching in silky strands as he tangled his hand in Sherlock’s hair. He cupped his skull, that delicate, incredible, fragile bone structure as he kissed Sherlock again, breathing a fluttering sigh when Sherlock’s lips parted, and John tasted his tongue, his breath, his gentle, willing vulnerability. 

Sherlock kissed him back, touching the tip of his tongue with aching tenderness to the inside of John’s bottom lip, and John broke the kiss just enough to shift and lay down. With slow hands, he pulled Sherlock closer, trailed his fingertips over his jaw, and guided their mouths together. 

He felt Sherlock sigh against his lips and smiled, knowing they would be fine. Sherlock would be fine. Whatever came at them, they would handle it.

Together.

[writers-blogck]

BNHA Imagines - MISC 01

                          Meeting for the First Time

Hitoshi Shinso: 

   He was pissed that he was put in the General Studies, he should be in one of the hero courses! Those tests weren't made for a quirk like his so there was no way for him to show off how powerful it could be. Plus, just to top it all off and piss him off further, he could hear a couple of students whispering about him. He could tell they were all support heroes, huddled up and gossiping. He thought that this would go away when he got into U.A. but guess jerks would always find a way. He was used to it by now.    "He looks super creepy, it's like he wants to be known as a villain." The one girl spoke, obviously frightened by the purple-haired boy.    "I know. Mind control is always bad, how could a hero have that quirk?"    "I bet he'll drop out and join the League of Villains. He already fits the part."    The words filled him with both anger and sadness. He had lived his entire life with those words and worked every day to prove them wrong. He had thought that since U.A. would be different since he had expected the students to be smarter but it was obvious that he was wrong. The three years here would be filled with voices and hidden stares just like the rest of his life. Why should he expect anyone to think differently?    "You do realize that the number three pro-hero is a man-made up of fire, right?" A new voice spoke up, bringing Shinso out of his thoughts and made him pay attention again, "That seems pretty villainy to me. What about thirteen? I'm sure people thought that her quirk could only be used for villainy. Plus it has been scientifically proven that a majority of villains were students who either failed or kept being told they could only be a villain instead of a hero. So please, be my guest if you want to keep berating him but don't be upset when he treats you like a villain. Even the best person will be a villain if they are diminished enough. All it takes is one bad day."    Your eyes glowed a medium blue as you stared at the girls. You were part of the support class as well but still had a powerful quirk. It was called Memory Card, allowing your brain to reach super-genius levels for up to fifteen minutes. You would remember anything you had ever been told and could use this power to access all of that knowledge. It helped that you were just super smart, to begin with, knowing your brain was made to support such knowledge. As your eyes slowly changed back to (e/c), the group of students scurried away.    Before Shinso had the chance to talk to you, you were gone. At that moment, he made it his duty to go find you and at least learn your name.

Mirio Togata:

Panic began to fill your chest as you crumbled against an alley wall. The dim street lights were the only thing lighting up the world around you. Everything seemed so dark and like there could be anything just around the corner. Whispers swirled around you and you could feel she was on her way. Why did it have to be like this? You would prefer not having a quirk to having to go through this. It made your entire body want to shut down.

Most of the time you were able to control her. As long as you were able to keep yourself calm and collected, she couldn't take control. You were able to use your quirk as it should be used. It was able to make people see their biggest fears, something which kept you from training with it as much as you should. How could you train with someone when you would have to make them feel that way? You had vowed from a young age to only ever use it in emergencies and against bad guys. Yet, due to your lack of training, she was able to take over every now and again.

Nightmare felt like a demon at times. You had no clue how these types of quirks worked. The only other person who you knew who had something like this was Tokoyami and he didn't understand himself. Dark Shadow got stronger when he was in the darkness, Nightmare got stronger the more you lost control of your thoughts. Breathing hurt as you gasped, fingers scratching at your neck as if something was choking you. You had medication to keep these episodes from coming on but you had run out. The doctor said he could see you in a few weeks and that you shouldn't have any attacks. Well, obviously he was wrong.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, one of the only things you were able to feel at that point. The rest of your body felt like it was numb and wasn't in your control anymore. No matter how many times you reminded yourself it wasn't real, it didn't help. Her sharp talons had attached themselves deep in your back and were planning on staying there. She had never gotten control of your body but you were terrified one day she would be strong enough. "Hey!" An echo reverberated around your skull, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was a male voice and while Nightmare could mimic someone, this sounded different. It felt hot, unlike everything around you that was freezing you to the bone. It seemed to only strengthen due to the voice but a patch of warm spread on your shoulder, shaking you. Loud thunder rumbled from above - she was angry. The talons tightened but you forced yourself to focus on the soft warmth until you felt your eyes open again.

The alleyway faded away as the light returned, bringing you out of your attack. The sun was shining down at your crumbled form against a tree on school grounds, your skin suddenly becoming quite warm. How long had you been here with the hot sun shining down on you? As you sat up properly, you could feel the sweat under your blazer and made a mental note to get some water as soon as you were inside. "Are you okay?" Your attention shifted to the boy standing above you, his voice exactly like the one you heard before. He was larger than you overall, suggesting him being an upperclassman. He wasn't part of 1-B, the class you had been assigned to. They told you that if you had more control over your powers, you could have made it into 1-A. You wanted to but you had no idea how to train without using someone else. What class was this boy in? General Studies? Support? Your mind was in a daze, slowly shifting your attention to the blue worried eyes looking down at you. Blonde hair was pushed back, though it was beginning to get messy with the heat. The first thought in your head as you saw his face for the first time was: Can the sun be a person?

Tamaki Amajiki:

Japan was so different than America. You knew you were lucky to be one of the transfer students to U.A. but it was intimidating with the entirely new country. The manners were so different here, they had so many ideas of what was polite and what was disrespectful. How would you learn it all? Would someone get mad at you because you were a foreigner? These thoughts filled your head until a shout rang out and you felt a large amount of force push against you. It was easy to regain your balance after stumbling back an inch or so. The sound of metal crunching up filled your ears as you began to focus back in on the present. What had happened? "Oh my god, are you okay?" A purple-haired boy that was much taller than you asked, running over in your direction before slowing as he got closer. His eyes moved from your figure to the crumbled car in front of you. A mixture of confusion and panic washed over his face as you casually looked down at the ruined vehicle. Luckily, no one was inside. What had happened? You glanced toward the direction it came from before you felt pale hands ghosting over your skin in search of some type of wounds. "I'm fine!" You smiled up at him, causing him to stumble back to put some space in between the two of you again. "That's a full car that just hit you. Maybe you have a concussion...Hm, you need a medic but the villain is still attacking...What should I do?" He mumbled the last part to himself, body rocking back and forth on his heels. This reaction was normal for you when someone saw your quirk for the first time. You were small, just reaching 5 feet (a symptom of your quirk), which often caused people to see you as fragile. It was rather ironic when they finally saw what you could take.

"I can take it. I am like super dense, you definitely can't pick me up. I'm 300 pounds if you can believe that!" "What...?" "My friends from home call me Buggie because of my quirk. I'm like an ant, do you know about them? I'm sure you do but some people don't think about how strong they are. They can carry up to 1,000 times their weight! I can do that too, isn't that really cool? I mean, lifting 1,000 times my body weight is straining but you know what I mean. " "Yeah, alright. If you're not hurt..." There was doubt in his eyes but he needed to get back to the battle. He would have to trust you if he could get back to Fatgum and help him. What if he was being hurt right now? His stomach twisted and he felt like he was ready to throw up. "No, I'm fine! I can move this car if you need, I could easily pick it up and-" "Ah- I don't have time. I'm sorry, I need to get back to that villain." A simple nod was all that you got as a parting before he was running off, white cape fluttering behind him. You wondered if he was a student of U.A. as you walked away, looking down at the address of the school that you were trying to find. 

Nejire Hado:

When Ryuku decided to take you, along with Tsu and Uraraka for your internships, you were shocked. You were a quiet and shy individual, feeling a lot smaller than the two other girls. Both of them weren't afraid to speak out about what they think or how people are going to react. To you, this was your everyday life. Your quirk allowed you to see the future, multiple versions of the future. Sometimes it was good but you often saw so many terrible and dangerous things. Such simple things could hurt so many people. It had left you filled with anxiety, wishing you could turn off your visions. What was even more shocking was the member of the big three that also was part of your group. The three of them had spoken to your class, though you had a hard time paying attention, you still were able to remember her. Nejire, that was her name. She was so much nicer than you thought. She was so patient with you, it had to be due to Tamaki. She was used to dealing with someone with a fast-acting mind.

"Senpai..." You spoke softly, catching the attention of the blue-haired girl. The first time you had called her that was an accident but she seemed to like it. You couldn't help but wonder if she paid more attention to you than the other two girls. Was that fair? Were you just overthinking it and seeing things that weren't really there? "Yes?" She smiled and your heart couldn't help but skip a beat. Nejire was just so pretty and sweet, it was hard to keep yourself from getting flustered around her. She was what you dreamed to be but you doubted you would ever be as good as her. You didn't even have a chance, why did you keep trying? Shaking your head ever so slightly, you pushed those thoughts away to focus on the task at hand. "Are you sure you want to take me on patrol with you instead of Tsu or Uraraka? I'm certain they would be more suited for it...I don't want to mess up and make something-" "You are perfect for patrol, my little kohai. Plus, I want to get to know you better and you seem to be less nervous when there are not many people. Don't worry about it, I'm certain about my choices. I like to think I make pretty good ones, you know?" Her arm flung over your shoulders, leading you forward as you were left in silence. How could your face feel this hot? Was the air thinner? "O-Okay..."

How were you going to survive this girl?

All-Might:

The two of you were much younger when the two of you met for the first time. It was hazy to remember how it all went. It was strange to think there was a time you didn't know him or Aizawa or the others. They felt so permanent in your life now that thinking before them felt wrong. All-Might was one of the top heroes and the others were rising in the ranks just as much! Why would you want to focus on the past when the present was so good? It wasn't as magical as the press tried to guess. They said he rescued you from falling off a bridge or you had been a hostage but it was nothing that fancy. The two of you had met your first day of U.A. because the two of you were in 1-A. Toshinori attracted the attention of most of the other students and you would be lying if you said you didn't check him out like the others. He was handsome- a strong body with a dazzling smile. The full package. When lunch rolled around, you would be surprised when he approached you first, asking if he could sit with you. It wasn't that you approached him first and fell in love like the media believed. It was the exact opposite. If anyone asked him to this day, he would be willing to gush about you for hours if they let him. At first, it was a simple adoration as a friend who was proud but it began to change. It would all be out in the open when he ended up kissing you while a camera was pointing at the two of you. That was when all shit went loose. But it was much simpler back when the two of you were in school. It was no different than any puppy dog crush between two people. The two of you had no clue of the chaos and pain that waited for the two of you in the future. Who would expect their happiness to be on a timer?

Aizawa Shouta:

It wasn't rare to find Aizawa drinking at a bar in his free time. He was stressed and it was only getting worse as the year progressed. His students were being put in more and more danger and there was nothing he could do about it. These villains were getting ahead of the pro heroes and it was increasingly becoming hazier on if they could win. One would like to believe the good guys always will win but Aizawa knew better. He had lost that innocence long ago.

"Are you alright?" A soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, making him look up to see the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They held no grief or guilt in them and instead sparkled in the dim bar light. They were holding a small glass of wine, their lips dyed with a faint hue of red. "I'm fine." He grumbled, eyes drifting to the whiskey in his cup. Was this his second glass? He didn't keep track, he just drank until those thoughts left. It was one of the only ways he was able to get some sleep recently. It wasn't healthy but he didn't know of another way. So much was happening and he was in charge of making sure his students were safe. Bakugo had gotten kidnapped, who knew what else was coming? They were children...

Without any warning, they sat down in the stool next to him silently. Nothing was said between the two of them at that moment or the rest of the night. Aizawa didn't have to do anything and yet, the person stayed. He had expected to get annoyed but the presence of another person helped. His mind was able to relax if only for the few hours they were able to spend together. The minutes passed as they sat together, drinking their respective drinks. The sun soon set and the darkness began to cover the city. The time of the villains. He needed to go, he had work in the morning. He may not get a lot of sleep but he was going to take advantage of the warm liqueur in his stomach and the calmness this person provided. As he stood to put his jacket back on, his eyes glanced over at the dark streets again and couldn't help but think about how dangerous it was outside. He was a hero, after all, he was trained to go out when it was like this but when he looked at the other person, they looked just like a citizen. Before they parted, he took a chance and offered to walk them home. He was considering taking it back but once they agreed, he was too far gone.

Hawks:

For your first two years of attending U.A., you were an intern under Aizawa. He would never admit it but he had a soft spot in his heart for you. When you first entered the school, you had no family and had self-esteem about as good as Tamaki's, one of your juniors. You could remember seeing him get into 1-A as you were finishing up your last year. That had been a hectic time for you but you were part of the top three of your own year and had to give a speech. You were proud when you heard the shy boy was in his own big three. You knew he had talent when you met him.

Most of your time was spent in your internships as you had two to do, something extremely rare. Your official internship was under Aizawa and you were training to become a teacher at U.A. but you wanted some more fieldwork under your belt. When you first started, Aizawa did have you go on missions and such but it had declined the older you got and the more concrete your goal of working at U.A. became. It was true but you wanted more. That was when you met him for the first time. He was amazing to watch! When hearing that he was only twenty, you decided that you would internship under him.

Aizawa tried to talk you out of it but he knew once you had something on your mind, you wouldn't stop until you got it. It took a lot to finally get the boy to agree to take you under his wing. He gave a long list of reasons why the two of you would be a terrible pairing but you kept coming back with reasons that destroyed his complaints. In the end, it was your determination that made him agree to let you tag along. What would your life be if he rejected you? Once you finished your final year in U.A., you were given a position as a teacher's assistant, to Aizawa as was expected. When you got a few years under your belt with him, Nezu would then allow you to teach first years. It was a dream come true! Training future heroes was amazing but you did have that tug every now and again where you wanted to help with more hero work.  Hawks decided to let you come with him on patrols whenever you got that way, the two of you going through many sleepless nights together. The press even dubbed you as Hawk's 'semi-sidekick'. You weren't in the front lines a lot but you really appreciated what Hawks did.

Hawks had no clue what to expect when he took you in. He had never been a mentor to someone and it was strange when they were only three years his junior. The mentorship morphed into a strange friendship that only strengthened once you graduated. What he didn't expect was to begin feeling differently about you, no longer seeing you just a kid. Aizawa had accepted his soft spot for you during your second year but Hawks was still in denial about how he really felt. The two felt different types of love for you but without you even knowing, you had them wrapped around your finger.

[dancingeyes]

I made this account after realizing I miss writing. It used to be one of my passions, but I haven't really been up for doing much since August 2020.

I turned 30 in July of 2020, and soon after that I became sick. It seemed to appear out of nowhere, but I wasn't really taking the best care of my body. I went to the emergency twice before they found out that I have enlarged ventricles in my brain. I stayed in the hospital for a week that time. They also informed me that I am missing my septum pellucidum, which is a membrane that separates the ventricles (I'm not a doctor so I'm not great at explaining things like this).

They were shucked I had never had a brain scan since I have a visual impairment and nystagmus (uncontrollable shaking of the eyes). I've had four eye surgeries to tighten the eye muscles and align my eyes, and they thought a brain scan should have been done. They believe the missing septum pellucidum caused my visual impairment.

During that week stay I was given three lumbar punctures... they are not fun whatsoever. The second one was done bedside (do not do this if you can help it) and was the worst pain of my life. Pain was shooting from my inner thighs down to my feet, and back again. I was also fortunate enough to have an audience of three student doctors as the main doctor continually searched for the proper placement of the long needle in my back. If you know me, I don't like crying in front of anyone... I couldn't help it during this procedure.

They were going to give me a shunt, but thankfully the neurosurgeon thought it was too soon to jump the gun and decided to wait, because the lumbar puncture results weren't adding up to do a procedure like that. I was so aggravated at the time because I wanted to not feel sick anymore.

Let me explain how I have been feeling since this all started:

I feel like I'm dizzy (light headed). When I walk or stand I get hot and feel like I'm going to faint (scary feeling)! My blood pressure goes up and down and I feel lethargic a lot of the time. I have major brain fog, and to me this is my worst symptom. A lot of the time I can't converse because it takes so much energy from me. I know I'm not the smartest person, but my mind is something I'm proud of and to feel like I'm losing it is terrifying. Half of my body gets numb, the left side of my face, my left arm, and my left leg. It has progessed to feeling like there is someone touching my or squeezing me in those areas. My head also feels like there is pressure in the back of my head and neck. Last but not least, I feel pricks all over my body at random times.

Writing this doesn't really express the depths of fear I've traveled through, and what I'm currently going through. I never know when I'm going to feel like I'm dying and I'm going to pass out. The last time it happened I was talking with a friend on the couch trying to be normal again. I had to have an ambulance come and get me. Again, nothing was found.

I was hospitalized for a second time in January of 2021, and more brain scans were done along with more lumbar punctures. This time I was put to sleep and had a intracranial pressure monitor (ICP) placed in my skull for three days. Despite the pressure in my spine being 23 (which is high), the pressure in my head is normal.

I also had electroencephalogram (EEG) to test for seizures, but since I have nystagmus they said they couldn't get any evidence of me having seizures. This is frustrating because I feel like I'm dying all of the time and I haven't gotten relief for months!

The second to last thing that was done during this nine day stay was another lumbar puncture (seven in total at this point) to have a much as the spinal fluid taken out as possible and to see if I felt better... I did not. At this point I am crushed because nothing is making sense and I'm always so dizzy and feel out of it.

I found a new neurologist and he had me sent for blood work. The neurosurgeon and him are in agreement that my large ventricles have been like this since my birth and are not likely the cause of my symptoms. My new neurologist asked if I have ever had a genetic test and I have not, he was shocked about that.

The blood work done is to test my thyroid and cortisol levels along with insulin levels. I don't get to see the endocrinologist until next month, and I'm terrified of what I'm going to learn. Will I finally learn what the culprit is? Will I feel like this forever? Will I get some relief? Is it something that is going to shorten my life? I'm absolutely terrified. Although I have love and support I can't help but feel so alone and scared.

I have been put on birth control which seems to alleviate some of the symptoms but I never wanted to be on birth control and I'm worried about the long term side effects. I just want to know what is wrong with me and why I feel like my head is always rolling and why I feel like I could pass out at any moment. I'm tired of the fear and the hard time I am having just having a normal day.

I'm grateful for all of the medical staff who have helped me and who are helping me. I'm praying that I'm going to have relief and get answers soon.