#and I didn’t even have a single nap today WHY am I so wired

[humandisastersquad]

Night 4 of not having my sleep meds thanks to my terrible sense of time and also pharmacies not posting their holiday opening hours online

[imaginethatneathuh]

The Fool: Game Boy - American Gods

Game Boy x partner!reader, romantic

Game Boy plays a game with you.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop.

TW/CW: None that I can think of.

Word count: 2.0+ K

•

After a long day at work you were relieved to not have to do anything else today. As soon as you got home, you said to yourself, it’s nap time. Sadly, or maybe happily, things didn’t work out that way.

As you stepped into the small, shared flat, you sighed and rolled your neck. Wordlessly, you walked to the kitchen and got some water, tossing your keys on the counter.

You had been on your feet all day; the only thing on your mind was a shower and bed. As you drank, water falling from the corners of your mouth, you noticed there was silence about the house. There was never silence unless your long-term partner, Game Boy was gone. Setting your cup down, you walk around the counters and cabinets that split the living room and kitchen. You stopped at the edge and peered in, hands on hips. With a frown, you tilted your head before walking into the living room, still in your barista uniform.

“Game Boy?” You called in the empty flat. “You here?”

After a long string of silence, you moved closer to the sofa and placed your hands on top of it.

It wasn’t peculiar that Game was gone, just odd that he hadn’t said anything before. He had always told you beforehand so you wouldn’t worry. This time, you supposed, he’d failed to mention his absence. Still, a part of you thought he may be elsewhere in the flat.

As he didn’t answer you, you began to search for him. He wasn’t in the bathroom and you doubted he was in the communal laundry room. Despite knowing that he certainly wasn’t in your room, you still checked. Predictably, he wasn’t there, but you did decide to change into something more comfortable.

With nowhere else to look, you knocked on his room’s door and opened it. It was empty. Gaming equipment, actual games, a computer, a telly, and other stuff like that covered the room, but there was no Game Boy. Your partner Game Boy, not the Nintendo handheld game console. He did, in fact, have one of them on a shelf.

There was a note taped to his computer which is odd because Game Boy rarely ever wrote anything with a pen or pencil. He also never let anything so “dated” as a pen and paper note on his precious computer. Not if he was in his right mind anyway.

You got closer, out of curiosity of what was so important that Game decided to write it out. The handwriting was very sloppy, you noticed.

Do you remember where we met? The note asked. I do. I thought you looked amazing. That’s why I couldn’t talk to you. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t say anything. I was so tongue-tied, it was rather embarrassing.

You smiled, remembering how flushed Game had been. He couldn’t even look at you. It was adorable.

Find where we met. Follow the trail and we’ll see each other soon enough. Let me take you on an adventure. You won’t regret it. I promise. I love you - G

Your heart swelled in your chest.

‘A game from Game Boy,’ you thought. ‘How cute.’

You left the flat, wanting to see just what game Game was playing.

•

Standing near a park bench, you looked around.

You had been around here, on a walk, when you’d bumped into Game. Stupidly, you hadn’t been watching where you were going and ran into him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I am so sorry,” you said. “I didn’t see you.”

You looked into his beautiful blue eyes and your heart skipped a beat.

The young man you’d run into turnt away, blushing and pulled his black trench coat tighter. He nodded, still looking at the ground.

“Again, really sorry.” You walked past him but stopped next to a park bench. After a few seconds, you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at him.

The blue-eyed boy stood there, looking at you, his hands in his pockets and scarf wiping back from the wind. He was considerably round and he had some acne, but it didn’t bother you. His eyes told you everything. There was more going on behind them than most would assume. More what, you didn’t know. But he seemed to know so much. One look into them and it was like you had had a glance into endless something, but you weren’t sure what. It was within your grasp and, yet, an ocean away.

Your eyes met again and warmth filled your chest. You smiled and waved at him.

His already deep blush deepened.

You walked down the path. A note, taped to a bench, caught your attention. You picked it up and opened it.

This is where you stopped when we first met. The moment you looked back at me and our eyes met, I could feel myself falling for you. I don’t get that feeling anymore. It’s more of knowing I love you and you love me kinda feeling, but I digress.

You smiled. His words rang true for you, too. There were no longer butterflies and lightning. But there was a feeling of belonging with him that you could feel in your heart.

Sometimes, I wonder why you weren’t repulsed by my acne and fat. I still have no idea why you’d go out with me. But, I’m glad you did ask me out. Being with you has been something else. A fantastic something else.

After the first time walking through the park, you started going there more often. At one point, it was every single day. All you wanted was to see him again. But, it took months before you did.

And when you did, as cliche as it sounds, it was like the whole world stopped around you. Without even thinking about it, you walked over and asked him out.

You got a stuttered yes, but it was still a yes.

Go to where we had our first date and you’ll find a friend and a note waiting. - G

•

After getting out of the car, you made your way to the arcade you and Game Boy had spent your first date. It had been easier to get him to talk about video games than it was himself. Still, the way he had talked about his favourite, and his most hated, games made you fall deeper in love.

The two of you played a ton of games, usually for two players. He’d even called you his player two, as a joke.

“Hey, Y/N,” the attendant, Steve, said. “G stopped by earlier. Told me to give you this.” He handed you a note.

I know I didn’t really let you talk much when we were here, but when you asked about my favourites to play, I just started rambling. It did make it easier to talk to you, though.

Speaking of rambling, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was a bit nonsensical, wasn’t it? I don’t know why you love that movie (or the book) but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to wear the VHS tape out with you. Seeing you happy was the best part of that. Now, Alice, my dear, go back home and go down the rabbit hole once again. - G

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was indeed nonsensical which was the best part about it. There was no real story. It was nonsense, the best kinda sense there is.

“Thanks, Steve. See ya later,” you said as you left.

•

Back home, you went to the telly and pulled out the VHS tapes. On AAiW’s case was a note from Game.

We’re pretty close to the end now. But, just to say it before I say it, I love you. As much as I found this movie weird, nonsensical, and rather insane, I found it worth every second spent watching because I got to spend time with you. Y/N, you mean everything to me. I love you. The reason I say this now is because I’m not the best at saying things without coming off like a prick. It’s easier to write them.

You can find me at the address below. And, as the rabbit always says, “I’m late.” So get here before I have to chop off your head for tardiness (or should I say tartiness?). - G

You chuckled softly at the pun and ran a finger down the page.

The address below wasn’t familiar to you so you pulled out a map.

•

The warehouse looked disgusting on the outside. Broken windows and grime-covered walls were not the most romantic thing, but still, if Game Boy was here, it’d be worth it.

You walked in, expecting to walk across broken glass or something, but there was no crunch beneath you. A path looked like it had been swept clean for you. It trailed to the back of the warehouse, small origami roses laying on it.

You followed them and picked them up one by one. The first few were plain white with green-painted stems. But, slowly, red started to bleed onto them. The ones farthest away were fully red, just like the Queen wanted.

The last rose sat on a door handle, the kind typically found in warehouses that jut out to the side. You picked it up, twirling the faux stem in your fingers. The rest of the bouquet sat in your arm. You could smell the paint coming off them.

The door creaked open and a shy figure peeked out.

“G?” You asked.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Please?”

You did as he asked, heart pumping. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

As much as you wanted to know, you knew Game Boy had a hard time figuring out what was okay and what wasn’t when it came to real-life people.

“You’ll see,” he said.

The door creaked open more and he shuffled out. He picked the bouquet out of your arms as well as the last flower before disappearing for a moment. The warmth of his hands transferred to yours as he led you into the office. You could hear the door close again. Game Boy positioned you right in front of something, guiding you by your upper arms. His warmth left you before he spoke.

“You can open them now,” he said.

He stood in front of a table, a vase of the origami flowers he had made in his hands. Candles hung down from the ceiling in a heart formation, each holder connected by wire.

You silently stared at the sight.

Game Boy breathed heavily, his coat thrown off to the side. Still, his turtleneck was a little hot right now. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was nervous or overheated. Probably both.

You stepped forward and took the vase from him and set it down on a table.

“You did all this?” You asked.

He nodded, wiping his hands on his khakis. “I wanted it to be special.”

“Wanted what?”

He ran a hand through his blonde hair. “I’m not the best at this,” he mumbled under his breath. He straightened and looked you in the eye, despite that being rather uncomfortable for him. “Y/N, we’ve been dating for a while. Not a super long one, but it’s been a while. And I know you said you wanted to wait before calling us partners, but I can’t wait any longer. I love you so much. I want- I want you to be my player two. Permanently. Not just for a game or two.”

He seemed to have practised saying the speech over and over again.

You walked forward and pulled him into a kiss by the fabric of his turtleneck. Game Boy cupped your cheek and kissed back gently.

You pulled away, smiling. “I’ll gladly be your player two for as long as we both play the game fair.”

Game Boy sighed in relief, a giant grin spreading across his face. He leant in and kissed you again.

[yellowocaballero]

You And Me (And Your Friend Daisy)

Thanks for pushing me to finish this, Anon! This is a short, fun, and romantic story written in the verse of my other fics Bell, Book, and Candle and No Sin But Ignorance. Takes place some time post the ending of No Sin But Ignorance. That being said, this is probably very comprehensible without knowledge of those fics, so feel free to just view it as a no-apocalypse au. The majority of this was written while writing Feste - more accurately, when I needed a break from the crushing depression of Feste, so that’s why it’s so cheerful. :)

Yes, it’s named after that Garfunkel and Oates song, because that’s the plot. 

The rest of the story is under the cut!

*******************************************

“Are you going to tell me where we are?”

“You have to guess! And no peeking!”

Jon sighed, slouching in his seat. He hated surprise vacations. He hated being forced to leave work and ‘take a break’ because ‘you’re contractually obligated to use your PTO hours’. And he did take vacations, he didn’t know why everybody acted like he didn’t. He and Georgie took Gerry to Blackpool once a year for Spring Break. That was a whole week off. That was enough for anybody. 

But Martin had been pointedly sending him emails about ‘fun couple’s trips’ and ‘romantic getaways’ in an ultra-subtle act of subliminal messaging. Indeed, the three emailed promotional advertisements listing off fun, relaxing, and romantic things to do with your significant other were so subtle that Emma was forced to listen in on the automated JAWS voice reading them out and then call him a ‘fucking idiot’. 

Whatever. It wasn’t as if Gertrude took any vacations, and nobody got on her back for it. Jon was willing to bet that Dekker never sent Gertrude any passive aggressive emails. He would have to ask him later - they got boba together once a month, he was an excellent conversational partner. He was, of course, slightly insane, both for his fervent adherence to the ancient religions and willingness to come within five feet of Gertrude Robinson for personal reasons, but all the best supernatural hunters were. 

“Well, we’ve clearly been driving north for the past eight hours, judging from the angle of the sun,” Jon said, annoyed. The car radio was playing the Archers in a dull drone, which Jon had insisted upon, because he and Daisy never missed an episode. This confused and frightened Martin. A bag rustled, and Jon knew that Martin was fishing around in the plastic convenience store sack for more Jaffa cakes. “Combined with the time, that can only mean that we’re going to Scotland. I don’t have any close friends in Scotland and I’m willing to be you don’t either -”

“Hey!”

“ - so unless you assigned yourself the task of following up on the Scottish Slaughter Statement without me assigning it to you, and deciding to bring me along, I’m guessing that we’re going to stay in a hotel and do...touristy things.”

“Wrong again,” Martin said triumphantly. He liked keeping track of every time Jon was innocently incorrect about something, just to prove it to everyone else. “I mean, yes, we are in Scotland, you’re right about that, but we are not staying in a hotel. We’re staying in the country.”

“Darling, I would love to sit on the Scottish Moors and stare out into the endless, unceasing fog with you in complete silence,” Jon said lovingly, “but I thought you wanted to do something romantic.”

“That’s not romantic?” Martin gasped, horrified. “Have you even read Wuthering Heights?”

“You and Gerry are two peas in a goth pod.”

“He’s goth, I’m gothic. There’s a difference. And don’t tell me that you don’t enjoy gothic literature - you’re literally a Byronic hero.”

“Oh, here we go,” Jon sighed, as the car bumped over a speed bump. He hadn’t heard another car for hours now, and he knew that they had to be in the middle of nowhere. The weather had grown colder, more humid, and occasionally he could hear the bleat of cows. It was...calming. 

Then Martin started listing off the very many reasons why Jon was a classical Byronic hero, then Jon had to remind him that none of that stuff had technically happened, then Martin began insisting that it happened in their hearts, then Jon got deeply engrossed into today’s episode of the Archers and felt the need to inform Martin about its illustrious and aged history, which prompted Martin to put on Hatsune Miku when the episode was over and indoctrinate Jon into whatever ‘Vocaloid’ was, and by the time the car transitioned to skittering over bumpy gravel they were both entering a heated discussion about the most superior of the ‘Vocaloids’. 

“ - and she created Minecraft?”

“And she’s trans,” Martin said heatedly. 

“Good for her,” Jon said, just bemused. The car engine quieted, and keys clinked and rustled. “Are we here?”

“Yep! Seven hours later.” Martin sighed and made a quiet, satisfied noise, probably stretching, and Jon didn’t bother to fight his smile. Man was like a cat. “I want to show you around and everything, but honestly that drive was exhausting and I might take a nap first.” He sighed happily. “Peace. Quiet. No coworkers.”

“I’m your coworker,” Jon pointed out, opening the door of the car as Martin did the same. He stepped onto gravel, grinding his trainer a little into it, and breathed in. The air tasted...fresh. Clean. Pure and just a little chilly. It was nice. It perked Jon up, as the wind lightly tousled his curls. He stretched his legs too, cramped from being knitted up in the small car. Martin popped the boot and started loading packages into his arms, and Jon walked over and held his arms out so he could help Martin carry the packages. Martin dropped a picnic basket filled with snacks in his arms, and handed him his own suitcase, as Martin dropped his own suitcase on the ground with a heavy thump. “How does a teenage girl create a video game? That’s very impressive.”

“This week you are my boyfriend,” Martin corrected him, thumping the boot down. “No Emma getting on my case about misfiling the papers. No Michael concern trolling me. No Eric judging me for my taste in tea. No Gertrude terrifying me every second of the day. I am free. I am not going to think about work, or anybody related to work, for a single second. No Entities. No fear demons. No monsters, besides my boyfriend.”

“Thanks,” Jon said wryly. “Aren’t we forgetting someone?”

“Oh, darn it!” Martin opened the back door of the car, and pulled out a carrier. The wire door of the carrier cinched open and Tiresias came bounding out, barking madly and running in little circles around Jon, his tail beating against Jon’s leg. Jon laughed, lifting his burden higher in his arms, and let Martin loop his arm around Jon’s and guide him towards what he had to assume was some kind of building. “C’mere, boy. Good boy! You were so good for the trip! You’re getting a hundred snacks as soon we get inside.”

“Are you going to tell me where we are yet?” Jon asked, exasperated. 

Martin squeezed his arm happily as they walked up an incline, shoes scuffing dirt. “I got permission from Daisy to borrow it. It’s her cabin, just outside of Applecross. It’s really in the middle of nowhere, nobody around for kilometers. Just us and a great deal of cows. It’s really gorgeous, Jon, with such clean air and beautiful hills. I can’t wait to go for walks with you. You’ll get so much time to go through your audiobook collection. And we can snuggle, and I can cook for you, and we can listen to more radio dramas, and we can talk about our future, and you can pet the cows…”

“Sounds wonderful,” Jon said honestly, squeezing Martin’s arm back. They paused, Martin rustling his keys again, and Jon heard the grinding of metal before a door seemed to creak open. “I can’t wait to spend this week with you. I could use a little peace, I think.”

“Gods, me too. You have no idea how stressed I’ve been. It’ll be just you, me, and -”

That’s when Martin screamed, and Tiresias barked excitedly and ran forward, almost bowling Jon over, and a familiar voice broke the quiet of the rustic cabin. 

“Aren’t you a good boy, Tiresias? Aren’t you a good boy?” Daisy Tonner’s grin was audible through her words, but it held a familiar tint of ferociousness. “Hullo, Jon. Blackwood. What are you doing here a week early?”

“Early!” Martin squeaked. “I said we were coming up the first week of September -”

“Really?” Daisy said, voice casual. Seemingly. “Because I have it down in my calendar as the second week. This is my vacation. And I’m not leaving.”

Silence stretched between them. Jon smiled happily towards the sound of Daisy’s voice, placing his burdens at his feet, and soon Daisy walked forward and enveloped him in a bone cracking hug. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Jon said, hugging her tightly back too. “I’m sure we can share the cabin for the week. It’ll be fun, like a sleepover!”

“Oh, I think so too,” Daisy said, her voice tinged in a wolf’s grin. “Don’t you think so, Martin?”

“Good fucking christ,” Martin said. 

****

True to his word, Martin was exhausted enough that he immediately made the bed and collapsed into it. Jon lovingly took off his shoes and socks and Tiresias even, adorably, pulled the comforter up around Martin’s ears. But Martin didn’t sleep: he seemed preoccupied in angrily muttering to himself about how he didn’t get the time wrong, she did, this was all her fault, and it was also completely on purpose, devil woman, everybody was trying to ruin everything - 

“Love, if I ask her to go, she’ll go,” Jon said. 

“No! Ugh!” Martin screamed lowly, muffled, and Jon realized with amusement he was screaming into the pillow. “It’s her house, she’s doing us a favor, I don’t want to be rude! I can’t kick her out of her own home!”

“Are you going to be passive aggressive at her until she leaves?”

Incriminatingly, Martin was silent. 

“She’s more stubborn than you are. If you try to solve this with your usual methods she’ll outlast you.”

“I hate her so much,” Martin groaned. 

“Don’t say that,” Jon said loyally. “She’s really come around to you, you know. She hasn’t threatened to chop your dick off in - oh, two weeks now. That’s a new record.”

Martin groaned again. Jon kissed him on the cheek, turned the light off - “Jon, you just turned the light on.” - turned the light off for real this time, and went into the living room/dining room/kitchen to start putting away all the food they had brought. He bent over his suitcase, withdrawing Tiresias’ harness, and whistled to call him over before snapping the harness on. Tiresias stiffened into what Georgie called ‘Buisness Boy Mode’, and Jon grabbed his handle with one hand as he loaded the groceries into the other. 

“Here, let me help.” Daisy lifted the other load from the floor, leading the both of them into the kitchen and opening the fridge. “I know Georgie’s organizational system.”

Jon just sighed, slowly navigating his way to the fridge to put his own load away. They had clothing to unpack, things to set up, and arrangements to plan, but Jon had the sense that none of it was getting done immediately. 

“What were your plans for this week?”

“I normally go up here to hunt,” Daisy grunted, sliding cans into the cabinet. At Jon’s raised eyebrow, she clarified, “with guns. They’re all locked up in the gun cabinet, as is my ammo and knives. Neither you nor Martin have the keys, but the cabinet is in a closet near the bathroom. That should be locked too.”

“Goodness, Daisy, I’m not an errant toddler. I won’t play with your collection.”

“You’re my errant toddler,” Daisy said loyally, giving him a noogie and making him scowl. “Say it. Say you’re an errant toddler.”

“Goodness, Daisy, leave me be -”

Then she lifted him up, like he was nothing more than a bundle of sticks, and held him in the air as he screamed and kicked his legs, trying to get down. Tiresias, the Traitor, the Serpent, the King of Lies, barked happily. “Let me down! Daisy!”

“Say you’re an errant toddler and I’ll let you down.”

“I shan’t. Daisy, stop -!” But then she started tickling him, which was extremely dangerous, and Jon was forced to cackle out in breathless laughter, “Fine, I’m a toddler, let me down, you crazy woman!”

She tossed him lightly onto the pull-out couch, putting away the rest of the groceries herself, and Jon let Tiresias sit on top of him and lick his face as he could almost audibly hear Martin pouting in the bedroom. 

“This’ll be fun,” Daisy said, shutting the cabinet and rustling some familiar boxes. “Can’t believe Tim paid me fifty quid to do this. I would have done it for free.”

“Do what?”

“Never mind. I have your copy of Life, do you want to play?”

“Sure!” Jon sat up, feeling Daisy sit down next to him and set out the game pieces. Then something occurred to him. “Wait. What are you doing with my copy of Life?”

“Georgie lent it to me.”

“...why did Georgie -”

“I was going to leave it here for when you came up,” Daisy said easily, and Jon nodded in acceptance. “Spin the spinner to see whose turn comes first.”

Jon considered thinking deeper about this, but Daisy wouldn’t lie to him. She was the most trustworthy person he knew. She didn’t have a deceitful bone in her body. He shrugged and reached forward and found the spinner, giving it a good twist before rubbing his thumb over the braille. Something occurred to him. 

“Maybe we can ask Martin if he wants to join -”

“I’m sure he would prefer his rest.”

“Okay!”

This vacation was going to go great. Why had Jon been worried?

****

That night they had a delicious barbecue outside, cooked by Daisy. Martin ate it in angry silence, which was quickly broken by Jon’s frequent nudges and directions for conversation. He wasn’t the most socially adept person at the best of times, but Martin and Daisy were two of his best friends and he knew how to get the both of them talking. He was even able to draw them into a spirited conversation about 19th century literature - Daisy preferred Russian novels, while Martin preferred Gothic romances and Hugo and Jon tended towards nonfiction. Afterwards Daisy grabbed her gun, kissed Jon on the cheek, did something that made Martin squeak in fear, and tramped off to go hunt deer or something. Jon waved her off with a blessing, his sixth sense thrumming with satisfaction for the Sacrifice. 

He spent the night cuddled up with Martin, watching Beauty and the Beast on his laptop. Martin was obsessed with Disney movies in a way that explained a great deal about him, and Beauty and the Beast was his absolute favorite. Jon ran his fingers through his soft and feathery hair as Martin squeezed his hand, and Jon’s heart settled in complete contentment. The audio description voice droned gently about the heartwarming falling in love montages, but Jon wasn’t really paying attention: he just felt safe, and warm, and as if he wanted the moment to last forever. 

Then his mobile rang, a clear automated voice saying “Gerard calling. Gerard calling.”

“Oh, I should get that.” Jon straightened, throwing out a hand on the coffee table where he thought he had put his phone, and Martin pressed it into his hand. He accepted the call quickly, putting it on speaker and holding it up to his ear just like, he was reliably assured, ‘an old man’. “Hello, honey?”

“Jon!” Gerry yelled. “Did you get the cabin okay?”

“Oh, so everyone knew but me,” Jon said, amused. “You’re on speaker, Gerry, so say hello to Mr. Blackwood.”

“Hi Martin! Are you guys having a good time? You have to take me next time, I want to see Daisy’s guns!”

“You will not see Daisy’s guns,” Jon said quickly. 

“Hi Gerry,” Martin said, a smile clear in his somewhat strained voice. “Sure, you and Georgie should come up next time. Make it a party. Why not.”

“Told you she’d do it,” Georgie said, and Jon perked up. “Hullo, love. How’s your romantic getaway going?”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Jon said, excited. “We’re going to walk down to the town tomorrow, check out some of their antique stores. I’ll let you know if we find any interesting art.”

“I’ve been up to Daisy’s cabin a few times with Melanie, it’s delightful. Great place for her to hunt and for me to practice my carrion photography. It’s always nice just to get away from it all! I hope you haven’t touched any work, Jon.”

“I haven’t,” Jon said loyally. He paused a beat. “Do Statements count? Because I was planning on listening to a few recorded ones as a sort of bedtime story?”

“That’s just self-care,” Georgie assured him. “Treat yourself, queen.”

“Thanks, honey. Make sure Gerry gets his homework done? Do you need any help? I have some time now -”

“I got it,” Georgie said, laughing slightly. “I can still help a fifteen year old with his English. I’ll make sure he brushes his teeth too. Just enjoy yourself.”

“Have a good time, Dad!” Gerry called, the affectionate nickname making Jon smile. “Bring me back a cow!” Slightly more muffled, Jon heard him say to Georgie, “Mum, when Jon goes on a romantic getaway, what do you think they -”

“Night, honey! Night, Martin! Love you!” Georgie called loudly.

Jon laughed, unable to stop himself from waving a little, as if they were there. “Night, you two. Love you too. Stay safe.”

“We will! Bye!”

The line clicked off, and Martin’s arm stretched across Jon’s shoulders squeezed a little tighter. Jon extended a foot and clicked the space bar on the computer, starting up the movie again. 

“You’d make a really good dad,” Martin said, almost to himself. 

Jon settled back against Martin, leaning his head against his shoulder. “I feel like one already, honestly. Obviously, I have far more experience with teenagers than babies, but they can’t be that hard. If I don’t drop them…why?”

Martin coughed a little, abruptly flustered. “No reason! No reason.”

“Do you want kids?”

“Can’t exactly have them biologically,” Martin muttered, before sighing. “Yeah, I’d love to...foster or adopt or something. I’ve had my - differences - with my parents, but I’m still glad they adopted me, you know? I’d like to pass that on. But...better. Much better.”

“Georgie is talking about fostering again once Gerard moves in with Eric,” Jon said quietly. The thought of Gerry moving out, of living full time with Eric again - it just seemed weird. Almost wrong, although it wasn’t - Eric adored Gerry, and he was a competent father. It was just that...well, technically, Gerry had been living with them since the beginning of the universe. On a purely literal level, they really had always had Gerry with them. It would be strange. “As a - recipient of the foster care system myself, I’d like to make a difference too.” He smiled thinly. “We’re very compatible, aren’t we?”

“Would it be...you and Georgie…?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

Martin sighed a little. “Is it dumb that sometimes it feels like you already have a family built in?”

Hm. Jon hadn’t quite thought about it that way. “You know those jokes about me and Georgie being married are just jokes,” Jon said reproachfully. 

Martin moved away a little, leaning forward, slipping his arm from Jon’s shoulder. He abruptly missed the warmth. “But you’re partners. You’re raising a kid. And I know Daisy and Tim think of themselves as your overprotective big siblings, they aren’t even wrong.”

“Many people have siblings? And friends? Some even have kids, I’ve heard.”

“I don’t.” There was really nothing for Jon to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. “I don’t want my entire social circle to just be through you…”

“It won’t be,” Jon said firmly, reaching out a hand and brushing it against Martin’s arm. He squeezed it firmly. “You don’t have to be Lonely anymore, Martin. I won’t let you.”

“Is that a promise?” Martin said, as if he was joking, as if Jon wasn’t certain that he wasn’t. As if he needed the reassurance. 

“How can you be lonely when I’m here?” Jon said, and trailed his hand up along Martin’s arm until he reached his neck and he could cup his face. He rubbed a thumb against his wispy stubble, light and thin. “I’m right here.”

Martin kissed him, and then the movie was quite thoroughly forgotten as Jon necked with his boyfriend on the couch like a teenager. They forgot everything, and for a small period of glorious time Jon forgot everything that he knew, in all of its entirety, and his Eye saw only the here and now. 

Then the door thumped open, the wind blew into the cabin, and heavy footsteps thumped into the room. Something dragged behind the footsteps, something that sounded a bit...wet. 

Martin, who was thoroughly on top of Jon and almost done unbuttoning his shirt, froze. Jon just craned his head, trying to hear the sounds of what was likely a dead deer being pulled in through the entrance way better. 

“Hello Daisy!” Jon said, still pinned down. “How was your hunting?”

“Lucrative. We’re eating venison tomorrow.”

“Great! Need any help getting that put away?”

“No, I’m good.” Tiresias barked happily. “Here, boy, you can have a little. Good boy. I’ll probably skin and clean it outside, I just wanted to get my gloves.”

“Take your time!”

Martin sighed and got off Jon, straightening his own clothing. “Yeah, Daisy, take your time.”

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Daisy said blithely. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You’re fine,” Jon assured her, fixing his own hair from where it had grown tangled. “Want to finish this movie with us?”

“Sure, let me gut this animal first.”

“Great! Scooch over, Martin.”

“You know,” Martin said, “maybe we want to move to the bedroom?”

“If we stay in the living room I can hook up your laptop to the television and we can watch the movie that way,” Daisy said innocently. 

“That sounds good,” Jon agreed. He patted Martin’s hand. “Is that alright with you?”

Martin sighed. “Yeah. Of course.”

That night, Jon curled up next to Martin on the creaky wooden bed, listening to the flies buzz around them and the crickets hiss their lilting song outdoors. 

His earbuds were still nestled in his ears, the soft hum of his Walkman cutting the quiet night, his own pre-recorded voice reading out a story. Martin sat next to him, and occasionally Jon could hear the soft shift of the pages of a book turning. Every so often Martin would gasp, or make a little noise at some exciting event in his book. 

Jon rolled over, throwing out an arm and pulling Martin in close, resting his head on Martin’s shoulder as he let the earbuds roll gently out of his ears. Martin was soft and warm, the cotton of his t-shirt rubbing up against Jon’s cheek, and Jon let his mind gently bliss out and drift away. 

He thought about the breakfast he wanted to make the next morning, and of the soft beat of Scottish sun on his face. He thought about the creak of cobblestones as jumped-up jalopies rolled over them, and of the shifting and groan of old wood. He thought of the bright, sharp summer smell of the highlands, and the sinking and sticky marshland. 

“We should visit the antique store in town tomorrow,” Jon murmured. “Georgie’s been looking for a new lamp, and I think they should have a nice Rococo one for cheap.”

“Oh? Maybe I can pick something up too.” Martin gently scratched Jon’s scalp, making him bliss out even further. “Nice of you to always loop us in on the best deals, you little shopping catalogue.”

They, of course, had not been to the town yet, and there was no reason for Jon to know of the antique store, or the Rococo lamp. Jon hadn’t even thought about it, the information as available and easy as the layout of the convenience store down the street and a left turn from his childhood council flat. 

Martin’s voice broke the quiet, cutting through the buzz of insects. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know everything,” Jon yawned, snuggling into Martin’s side closer. 

“Not what I meant.” Martin hesitated, almost awkwardly. “You’re a literal mind reader and everything, but I’m not, so…”

“Oh, Martin.” Jon reached a hand up and cupped Martin’s cheek. “I built this world from the bedrock of my love for you.”

“Uh - wow! That’s - it’s kind of weird how you can just say that and have it be true!”

“Our lives are weird,” Jon agreed, brushing his thumb over Martin’s lips, and he carefully leaned his head up to kiss him, and they passed the long silent minutes just like that. 

Several hours later, Jon found himself jerking awake. Martin was snoring beside him, and he couldn’t feel any sun on his face, so Jon figured it was likely still nighttime. He carefully slipped out of bed, reaching out a hand and trailing it along the wall until he managed to leave the bedroom, navigate down the hall, and enter what he was fairly sure was the living room. 

“Jon?” A voice broke the night. Daisy, who had taken the pull-out couch. “You looking for the loo?”

It was only then that Jon realized that he didn’t know why he had gotten up. Tiresias snored loudly in the kitchen, adding a subtle undertone to the noise from outside, and Jon found himself shrugging helplessly. “I don’t think so. Did I wake you up?”

“Nah. Hold tight, I’ll help you to the couch.” Sure enough, after the almost silent footsteps echoed through the main room Jon felt a soft hand on his back, and she led him towards the couch. Jon lightly kicked it, testing its height, and gently lowered himself onto it, the springs of the pull-out bed breaking through the night. “What has you up?”

Jon just shrugged again. The bed creaked beside him, and he felt calloused fingers carding through his hair with gentleness that would have been surprising to most people. 

“Am I a bad boyfriend?” Jon asked, surprising himself. He hadn’t even known he was thinking that. 

“Did Blackwood tell you that you were?” Daisy asked sharply. 

“No! No, not at all.” Jon sighed. “I just...I just have different needs than him.” He could already tell what Daisy was thinking, and he shook his head. “Not about the - the you know what thing. I just...I know how much he loves me. I know what he thinks of me, I know his dedication to me. Sometimes I just assume that he’s - capable, of what I’m capable of. Do I not tell him I love him enough? Am I not affectionate enough?”

“You aren’t as perceptive as you think you are, Jon,” Daisy said, amused. “I think you’ll find that Blackwood has quite a few more secrets than you think he does.” She untangled her fingers from his hair and squeezed his arm. “Blackwood’s insecure. All insecure people want mindreader boyfriends. But you force him to use his words and ask for what he needs, Jon. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s good for him. He needs to learn to speak up for himself.” She hummed slightly. “He reminds me of Basira, a little. She’ll never tell you that you bothered her, and she just lets it pile up and up. But then you go just a little too far, and then she explodes all of that pent up anger and frustration on you. She likes to pretend she’s a real robot, but she’s just as human as the rest of them.”

“I’m so terrified of Basira,” Jon said miserably. “Remember when I dropped a plate and she told me that the reason why my gran didn’t love me was because I was an attention seeking nine year old?”

“She’s so mean. I love her so much.” Daisy patted Jon on the back. “Buck up. I’m working on Blackwood. You focus on enjoying your vacation.”

Jon let himself lean to the side, resting his head on Daisy’s shoulder. “I’m worried that Martin will realize that I’m not capable of expressing romantic affection in a socially typical manner and leave me.”

“God, shut up, whiner.” But the bed creaked and Daisy’s head gently slid out from under his shoulder, and Daisy gently helped Jon to his feet. “I’ll get you back to bed. Bitch about your imaginary relationship problems to me in the morning.”

Translated: I love you, I’ll always be here for you, and goodnight. Jon huffed a quiet laugh. “Aren’t the lights off? How can you see anything?”

When Daisy spoke again, a quiet bass growl echoed underneath her words, and Jon grinned with her. He Knew, like how he Knew that he loved Martin enough to destroy the world, that Daisy’s eyes were flickering yellow in the darkness. “Don’t be fooled by appearances, Jon.”

She helped him back to bed, and when Jon slept through the rest of the night he dreamed of nothing but Martin’s weight on his. 

****

“What a beautiful morning!” Martin said loudly. “The birds are chirping, the Scottish highlands are beautiful, I am here on my romantic vacation away from everybody with only my lovely boyfriend for company - and Daisy Tonner!”

“Glad to be here,” Daisy said affably. 

“This is so much fun!” Martin said, still loudly.

“I think so too!” Jon said enthusiastically.

Tiresias barked. 

After a breakfast pointedly prepared by Martin, they all got dressed and saddled up to go walk into the village. It was a quick walk, only about twenty minutes, and Martin and Daisy enjoyed the scenery as Jon enjoyed the warm grip of Martin’s hand in his and the breeze on his face. 

When the trail began sloping further downhill, and their footsteps began to slide against the incline, Jon pulled what Gerry would have called a ‘pro-gamer move’ and moved his grip up until he was clinging to Martin’s arm. Martin sprayed a hand out, resting it against Jon’s back, and helped him down the trail. 

“Whoah! You alright, honey? Careful of your step!”

“Jesus christ,” Daisy muttered. 

“It’s hardly Jon’s fault -” Martin began heatedly. 

“Yeah, Daisy,” Jon said, delighting in setting them against each other like the cold, uncaring god he was, “check your privilege.”

Then they were off, because despite Daisy was allergic to social consciousness, and Jon whistled a jaunty tune, composed in the 15th century and unknown to all but its lonely shepherd creator, as they navigated their way downwards. 

The village was small, nothing more than two streets with cheerful wooden facades and swing porches set out on the decks with wizened elderly people sipping from bottles of Irn Bru and smoking down cigarettes to the dregs. At least, as narrated by Martin, who seemed to already be mentally writing his small-town murder mystery in the Scottish highlands (Martin’s poetry needed work, but his fiction held a certain massmarket appeal). Knowing Martin, the protaganist would likely be either a grandmother with his own personality, or a thirtysomething gay man who had twelve counts of arson on his record and was running from the cops. 

Wait. Wait, Jon should use his words. Ask instead of look. Display interest in Martin’s inner life - which, granted, seemed to be a waste of time when Jon could just Know and not waste his breath, but Georgie had been coaching him in this. 

“You should give the ex-con narrator a boyfriend,” Jon said supportively. “Maybe bring back the gay bar owner from the last book?”

Martin almost tripped over the gravel. “How did you know I was thinking of - Jon, I told you not to read my mind!”

“Lay off, you know he doesn’t do it on purpose,” Daisy said uninterestedly, growling at what Jon guessed were passerby on the street. 

“Daisy, stop telling me how to talk to my boyfriend -”

“Oh, he’s your boyfriend now, is he?”

“Yes! Yes, he is!”

“Let’s get some ice cream!” Jon said loudly. 

“How did you even know there was an ice cream - fine! Fine, of course!” Martin sighed loudly. “Why not!”

As it turned out, they were right in front of ice cream. Jon loved it when things worked out. 

****

Twenty minutes later, after Martin laboriously reading out all of the entirely too many flavors to Jon, Daisy growling at everybody at the store like an errant dog, fighting with the owner of the store extremely politely about his actual dog existing, and finally taking their ice cream outside to sit at a picnic bench and attack their waffle cones, Jon felt content. 

He indicated this by telling everybody everything he knew about emulsifiers, which were extremely neat and a lot of fun! Because nobody was stopping him talking by saying ‘let’s talk about something else, Jon’ or ‘isn’t that a bit boring, Jon?’ he moved onto the history of waffle cones, safe in his assumption that everybody was as interested in the topic as he was. 

“I love you so much,” Martin said, somewhat dazed, when Jon stopped to draw a breath. “Did you know that this is the second time this has happened?”

That stopped Jon short, when nothing else did. “Really? Has it?”

Martin’s spoon scraped his small paper bowl. “Yep. Uh - for my birthday, I think. Me, Tim, and - and Sasha, and you. You ordered rum raisin. I was thinking...did you actually like rum raisin? Or did you just panic?” He laughed, somewhat self-consciously. “You didn’t remember about it even before the whole apocalypse thing, so no sweat, but…”

“Oh.” Jon realized, for probably the fifth time, that Martin held years and years worth of memories in him, and that Jon had only fragments and impressions. He knew that he had everything important, that everything he needed was within him, but - did he? What if he was missing the key to everything, the key to Martin, and all he needed was to just Look deeper? “That’s - I could remember it, if I wanted.”

“It’s fine, Jon,” Daisy said quietly. “Don’t go giving yourself a migraine.”

“I could,” Jon insisted. “I’d like to remember something like your birthday, Martin. Precious memories, or - or something. Give me a moment, I can send a quick prayer, and -”

“You know,” Martin said, and he squeezed Jon’s hand. “I’d rather make new memories right now. Where we are right now, that’s - that’s the most important place, innit?”

Jon smiled at him, and he knew, in the most mundane of ways, Martin was smiling back. “I like to think so too.”

“Ugh,” Daisy teased, although perhaps to an outsider it may have sounded mean, “get that sappy shit outta my face.”

“You’re just as bad with Basira,” Jon shot back, smiling. “You two are in love -”

“Take that shit back,” Daisy hissed. 

“You want to get married -”

“Who told you!”

Jon tapped the lens of his glasses smugly. “A little Eye told me.”

“Beholding cuck.”

“No, that’s Peter -”

“Martin would know all about Peter, huh?” Daisy sneered, and the pressure on Jon’s hand intensified for a brief second before it withdrew completely, leaving his hand cold and empty.

“Jon, can you give me and Daisy a few minutes of privacy, please?” Martin said pleasantly. 

Jon raised an eyebrow, licking the ice cream dripping down his hand. It was Vast flavor. Tasted like...ozone. “Why?”

“He doesn’t know the area, you can’t send him off alone,” Daisy shot back, strangely smugly. “Come on, Blackwood. Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it in front of him.”

“You know what, fine. Fine!” Martin thumped the table, making Jon start and Tireasias stiffen. “I have done nothing that warrants this kind of treatment from you. You are disrespecting me, disrespecting my relationship, and you are insulting my fucking intelligence. I appreciate you loaning us your cabin, but if I knew that it would come with strings attached then I would have paid for my own bloody hotel! Why are you doing this!”

“Tim gave me fifty quid,” Daisy said, like the wolf that had caught the canary. “Plus it’s fucking funny.”

“Done what?” Jon asked, confused. 

“I want you out of my vacation, Daisy,” Martin hissed. “If you won’t leave the cabin, then I am booking my own Air BnB and that’s fucking final! I don’t care if I have to - to fight you in the street about it, I can and I will, you don’t want to mess with me -”

“Sure.”

Martin stopped short. Jon licked his ice cream, fascinated by the drama. “What?”

“I said sure,” Daisy enunciated clearly. “I was waiting for you to fucking say it. I told Basira I’d be home by tonight, anyway. Knew you’d snap.”

“I - what! What! What?!”

“You’re a pushover, Blackwood,” Daisy said. “Your coworkers, your friends, everyone - they just walk all over you. It’s fucking stupid. You are the archival assistant who survived the apocalypse with memories and sanity intact. You lasted longer on the position than anyone since Emma Harvey, and you didn’t have to lose your soul to do it. You looked Elias in the face as you burned his Archives down. You’re not a pussy. And I was sick of seeing you act like one. It’s fucking annoying.”

“I hate you so fucking much,” Martin whispered, somewhat in shock. 

“Well, I hate seeing my best friend date a passive aggressive loser, so we’re both unhappy.” Daisy stood up, feet shuffling against the cement, and Jon felt her press a kiss against his forehead. “You two have a nice day out. I’m going to go hunt things, and head back to London. Take care of yourself, Jon. And cut out the PDA, it’s gross.”

Suddenly, violently, with a crushing realization, the entire vacation was recontextualized. 

“I don’t appreciate any of this,” Jon said crossly, scowling in her direction. “Honestly, Daisy, you don’t -”

“Blame Tim. Love you, Jon. Love you, sweet puppy. See you later, Blackwood.”

Jon and Martin sat in silence as the sound of footsteps receded from Jon’s hearing, and the low murmur of the small village set in around them. Martin still seemed to slightly be in shock, his ice cream slowly melting, and Tiresias yawned sleepily in the sun. 

“I hate her so fucking much,” Martin whispered. 

But Jon just smiled, and reached out to brush a thumb over Martin’s close-cropped hair. He leaned in, whispering into Martin’s ear. “Hearing you yell at the scariest woman I know who isn’t Gertrude Robinson was pretty fucking sexy, love.”

“I hate her so - wait, it was? Really?” Martin coughed awkwardly. “Well, she really had it coming, and it’s not a huge deal, and I know she’s your best friend and I should be nice to her, but -”

“ - but she was right,” Jon said firmly. “An arse about making her point, but she was right. I’m working on using my words. You should too. All of the books say communication is key in a relationship. So let’s communicate, alright?” He faltered a little, uncertain if Daisy would want him to say this. “And - and it was obvious, from what she said, that Daisy respects you. It’s a very difficult thing, to win Daisy’s respect. I think she was trying to help us, in her own - unorthodox manner.”

“I hate her so much,” Martin groaned. 

“It was very sexy,” Jon hinted. 

Martin leaned in and kissed Jon lightly, and Jon could feel his smile against his own. “How about we finish our food,” he said quietly, “walk around town for a bit, buy some souvenirs for your family, and then go back to the cabin and snog and cuddle for a very long time? If that’s okay with you?”

“I’d like nothing more,” Jon said. 

And he was right. It was messy, and weird, and painfully uncomfortable.

 It was perfect.

[malecftw]

Can you write a piece where Shawn finds out you were super homesick and he does everything he can to make things better?

I worked pretty hard on this so I hope you like it. It’s not really that he does everything to make her feel better but honestly, you can’t really do much on tour to make someone feel less homesick and I didn’t wanna do all the cliché watch fave movies and stuff. Either way, thank you so much for requesting nonnie! Hope you like it <3

Word count: 1.394

Warnings: sadness, homesick feelings, maybe some cursing

Masterlist.

Requests are open!

Your head laid peacefully on Shawn’s shoulder as you watched the sunset through the windshield of the bus. You tried to watch one every week at least. With or without Shawn, although it felt more comforting with him. Those were the moments that made you think back to home. You’d literally left everything behind in the state it was when Shawn called to say you could come on tour with him.

You wouldn’t change it for the world, but you missed home. Your home. Your own little bubble that didn’t consist of screaming fans, or everyday soundchecks, or waking up at the break of dawn each day and it definitely didn’t consist of sharing a sleeping space with 6 other dudes.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Shawn asks, Corona in hand and hair held back by a bandana. ‘Home.’ He looks down at you with sorrowful eyes. ‘Do you wanna go home? I get it if you do...’ His eyes show sincerity, but also sadness. ‘Are you kidding me? Why would I want to give up traveling the world with my best friend and lover?’ At that, he laughs but still has a serious look in his eyes. ‘Really though y/n. If you’re not happy, you can tell me. I just want you to be happy baby.’ You sigh, not prepared to have this kind of conversation. ‘It’s not that I’m not happy babe, I just miss home. I miss the privacy. I just miss us. Just Shawn and y/n. Not Shawn the rockstar and y/n the girlfriend.’ ‘Hey you know you are so much more than that. Don’t ever reduce yourself to just my girlfriend.’ ‘No I know, but that’s how everyone views me. At least at home, I didn’t have to be confronted by it. The good way outweighs the bad but I just miss the simplicity of home sometimes.’ He nods, understanding where you’re coming from since he also grew up in a small town. He knows what it’s like to leave the comfort of home behind, and while touring seems like a dream job, it’s still a job. Long hours, endless interviews and press, usually not having family around,... He couldn’t deny that tour life was rough. Hell, even he sometimes struggles with it and he’s been doing it for ages. That’s why he’s so impressed at how you’re holding up.

He took your hands in his and kissed them lovingly, trying to provide some sort of comfort even if it was impossible to make the homesickness go away.  Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door was playing in the background and even with the added heaviness, it was still a rare perfect moment.

The open windows caused the crisp spring smell to spread down the bus, feeling like you were outside even if you were protected from the sharp wind. ‘I love you.’ You look up, confused by his random statement. He sees your confusion and just shrugs. ‘Just felt like saying it.’ You say nothing and rest your head on his shoulder again, letting the night creep in whilst listening to old tunes.

The next day

You stretch as you wake up to an empty bunk bed and you frown. Shawn never leaves without telling you. You close your eyes again sleepily and feel around for your phone. One eye opens in an attempt to just quickly look at the time and then try to nap some more since you had nothing planned today. Quickly though, you are shaken out of your sleepy state as you look at the clock on your phone. 11 AM. How the fuck did you manage to sleep in THIS late. You were never a morning person, but you have also never been this bad.

You carefully roll towards the curtain, still drawn over the entrance of the bunk you are in. The bus is eerily quiet which is unusual and it makes you uncomfortable. As you jump down from the bunk, you hear the door of the bus open. The mellow whispering makes you curious and you head out to the front. ‘What’s going on guys.’ you say, making yourself known as you see Shawn and a crew member talking. ‘Sleeping Beauty’s awake I see.’ Shawn says grinning as he walks over. He hugs you tightly and tries to kiss your lips but you avoid him. ‘Morning breath,’ you mutter as you cuddle further into his chest.

‘Come on, I have something to show you.’ He says and he takes your hand, dragging you towards the back of the bus. ‘Babe as much as I love you, I am not gonna bang with a crew member sitting right at the front.’ His loud laugh echoes through the bus and his shoulders go up and down in amusement. Was what you said that funny?

‘Babe no... I got a surprise for you.’ You wiggle your eyebrows in response. ‘Oooooh, has a new fetish risen from the depths of your deep dark soul?’ You say suggestively and he shakes his head, rolling his eyes smiling. ‘No. Stop. Be serious for a sec.’ Your posture changed immediately, Shawn rarely is that serious himself so this has made you curious.

‘So I know you’ve been feeling very homesick, so me and the guys decided to make the back room feel a little bit more like home.’ He looks at you proudly as he walks backward slowly, grip on your hand never loosening. The door opens and the immediate smell of your favorite incense tickles your nose. The blinds are closed, the only thing lighting up the back room are various fairy lights draped across the ceiling of the bus. Just like in your room back home. ‘And if you’re feeling a little more adventurous...’ Shawn says as he presses a couple of buttons connected to the wires of the fairy lights. The ordinary white fairy lights go out and are replaced by multicolored ones, every single one transitioning into a different color. It’s like a very mellow, not so flashy disco floor but so stunning it makes you tear up.

‘Remember back home where you always went to lay in the hammock outside when it’s too hot to sleep inside? Remember the different times we’ve fallen asleep stargazing, trying to name as many stars as we could as if we had billions of stars to call our own? And that one time, where the sky was so clear that we could see part of the milky way?’ You nod, too choked up to really talk.

‘This is for when you can’t sleep at night and your heart is heavy with the absence of our stars.’ Another switch is flicked off and on and all the lights dim. At first, nothing happens, but slowly but surely, white freckles begin to appear. On the ceiling, on the walls, everywhere. You’re not really sure how they did it, cause it doesn’t seem like typical glow in the dark stuff. It’s actually quite realistic and you’re sure that when you’re half asleep, trying to find a little piece of home in your soul that this will be perfect to fall asleep to, almost exactly mimicking the starry sky at home that you’ve grown to love so much.

‘Shawn, I..’ You’re struggling to put into words what this meant to you. The effort. The thought. It was just a little too much so you cup his face and kiss him passionately, not only did this make you realize how much you truly love this man, but also how he’s the one you want to spend a lifetime stargazing with. 

‘How? When?’

‘When you were sleeping this morning.’ He said smugly. ‘We’d been playing with the idea of doing something for a while, but last night I got the actual idea of what to do so we woke up early and stopped at a Walmart to get the lights and stuff. Do you like it?’

‘Like? Shawn, I love it. This honestly means so much. You know I don’t like over the top stuff but this is just perfect. So thoughtful.’ You rant but Shawn shuts you up with a kiss.

‘I couldn’t bring home to you, but at least I was able to make us our little private universe. Care to stargaze with me tonight?’ 

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

[lost-tanuki-tales]

Overworked

Prompts: Exhaustion, Collapse. Cast: Unfair Lives (Jin and Reg) Word count: 2.2k

* * *

"Jin."

The teenager didn't move, head resting on top of his crossed arms over the keyboard of his computer. A string of f's was still growing across the screen because he'd fallen asleep while working and Reg hadn't had the heart to wake him earlier. Jin was usually so alert that it surprised Reg when he obtained no reaction from speaking aloud. Not a single strand of black hair moved and there wasn't even a tiny little twitch that indicated he was rousing.

"Jin, wake up..."

Still nothing. Unsure, the older man fruitlessly looked around before his gaze settled back on the sleeping shape and he cautiously reached out to nudge its thin shoulder. Jin immediately sprang back to life.

"I'm awake, fuck off," he snapped in Reg's general direction before his dark eyes had even come completely into focus.

Reg wasn't surprised by his instantaneous anger but he hastily retrieved his big hand and took a step back. "Sorry, you told me to wake you up if I had to."

Jin scowled at him and rubbed at his face and mussed-up hair. "I know what I said, you can still fuck off. God, I haven't slept in days. Do you even know what that's like?"

His words were blurred together which really wasn't like him at all. Jin's diction was supposed to be simultaneously sharp and easy, and even his voice which usually held the soft quality of velvet was a bit scratchy. Reg was worried. The boy really looked much too tired to go to the meeting he'd planned in an hour.

Jin glared at him and rolled his sunken eyes. "Of course you wouldn't, staying home all day and all."

Reg shrugged.

"Fait chier," groaned Jin.

He only reverted to his language when he was upset, which gave Reg a fair indication of how much Jin was done with all of this. The boy pushed himself up and wavered for just a second, features suddenly going slack and face paling. He blinked rapidly a few times and clenched the edge of the table to ground himself, and then finally stepped away from the table completely. Reg stood close in case he stumbled but didn't dare say or do anything that would annoy Jin even further when he was already so worked up.

Jin's steps were heavy instead of nimble. They'd become that way over the last week; his awareness and caution were waning under the weight of fatigue. Jin hadn't been sleeping enough and hadn't taken a single break ever since the prospects had started flooding in. Lack of rest wasn't the only thing wrong with him either judging from the way he held his stomach, but he hadn't spoken about that out loud and Reg knew not to pry when Jin wasn't willing to share. Reg watched him trudge across the room to get his things in another and thought again that it really was uncanny for Jin to have been so difficult to wake. Obviously his brain hadn't completely shut off for the nap since he'd woken up sparking like a live wire, but the needs of his body had definitely pulled him deeper into sleep than it usually did. Jin's arm suddenly shot out as he was about to walk through the door and he leaned against the frame. He was breathing fast and shallow.

"...Jin?" softly questioned Reg.

"Shut up," he muttered. "Spinning."

Reg decided he definitely couldn't just let Jin go to work like this and walked up to him, slowly enough that he wouldn't get hit for trying to tower over the boy. "Jin, I don't think you should go."

"I don't give a fuck what you think," retorted Jin, and he quickly pulled himself back together before walking off.

Reg hesitated, and then followed Jin around the house. "But you're really tired."

"You think I don't know that?"

Jin’s lithe frame was swaying. It was light and almost unnoticeable which meant it was probably pretty bad for him to be unable to hide it completely. He took a few steps down the hall on his own before he reached out for support again and held himself up against the wall.

"You can't even walk on your own, you know you can't show up like that," reasoned Reg. "They'll eat you alive."

"This is important," hissed Jin without looking at him, and when he turned to his right to enter the bedroom Reg saw that his fine features were taut. He knew Jin was perfectly aware of his limits and that as such he was also perfectly aware that he was really pushing them.

"I know, but you look like you might pass out."

"I do not."

"You do."

"Oh shut up, you big oaf. I've got to meet this Nicole girl and I've gotta meet her today-" Jin broke off mid-sentence to stifle a yawn- "or someone else will snatch her instead."

"Nikos," quietly said Reg.

"What?" snapped Jin.

"Her name is Nikos. Not Nicole."

Black eyes flickered towards him, gauging to see if the man was serious or not, and then Jin let out a short, dry snicker. "Where the fuck did I get Nicole from?"

"You're exhausted, Jin."

"It's fine, just make me coffee or something."

"You..." Reg frowned. "You don't drink coffee."

"Yeah, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It's at the top of the cupboard on the very left, trust me, it should still be there. It's the same as tea, just boil the water and add one dose."

Reg hesitated, but he ended up complying. He was always hesitating and complying. Hesitating because he cared for Jin and found that the boy often made unreasonable choices for his health. Complying because their relationship was very close to that of pet and master, and Reg didn't mind that hewas expected to obey the person he owed his life to. Reg went to prepare coffee the way Jin had instructed him to. There were a lot of things Jin had to tell him how to do because he'd either forgotten or never known them but although he'd shown annoyance about it, he'd never reproached it to Reg. The man tried to listen for the noises Jin was making while he rummaged in the cupboard for the rumored coffee but it was difficult to do over the sound of the water boiling, and his senses only told him what he already knew: that Jin was weary, dimmed, a flame that was flickering instead of blazing. It was very concerning.

The water finished boiling, Reg prepared a mug and dumped a dose inside, watched the powder dissolve with deep fascination and then supposed that it would probably be a good idea to mix it with a spoon before he went back out of the kitchen to give the drink to Jin. The boy had sat down on the bed with his head in his hands and was immobile again. Reg walked up to him.

"I have your coffee."

Jin just reached out a hand without a word. Reg went to give the mug but then stopped in his tracks when he saw the tremors on the thin fingers.

"You're shaking."

"Wow, Reg, thank you so much for sharing your incredible observation skills with me," snarkily said Jin. "Give me the damn coffee."

Reg didn't obey right away but he did, eventually, and Jin brought the mug to his pale lips with trembling hands. Reg crouched in front of him and insisted: "You can't go."

"Big guy, look, I like you, I do, but you're really getting on my last nerve and I don't have a lot of it to spare because as you so justly pointed out multiple times, I am tired. Get off my ass."

Reg watched Jin take another swig of coffee. He didn't know if he'd dare say what was on his mind, trepidation was rising inside of him, but if he made the right point maybe Jin would see reason.

"Would you even be able to defend yourself in your state?" he said in a whisper, daring but not quite.

Too late. The words were out in the air between them and Jin had a very sharp sense of hearing.

The boy's slanted eyes flashed and he warningly ground over the edge of his mug: "What."

Reg felt a shudder course along his spine but didn't back down. "You can't fight like this. You can't even hold a mug, how do you intend to hold a weapon?"

Jin's fingers tightened around the ear of the mug so hard that his knuckles whitened. His voice was deathly soft. "Are you implying that I'm weak, Reg?"

"You're human."

"Answer the question."

“Like this..." Reg cautiously nodded. "You are."

The black irises flashed like glittering onyx. Jin slowly lowered the steaming mug to the ground and then straightened again, and in a very even voice said: "Of all the things you'd have the balls to call me, Reg, weak is very high on the list of things that can get you fucked up."

"You need to acknowledge it," Reg insisted. "There's no way you can make it there safely, much less lead the-"

Jin moved in a blur. He'd always been fast and although Reg knew no one else but the boy he could tell that this speed was way above average. Even tired as Jin was his movement was too quick for Reg to dodge or block and the edge of the boy's slender hand caught the older man in the throat. Reg's trachea seized up and he doubled over to hack and wheeze.

"Weak, really?" smugly said Jin. "You know that would have easily killed you if I'd wanted it to."

Reg looked up at him through teary eyes. "You- You know that's not what I meant."

Jin raised a foot and shoved Reg’s shoulder, throwing him to the ground. "I think that's exactly what you meant, you ungrateful mutt."

"No," Reg managed between coughs as he pushed himself back up.

"Shut up. You're lucky I like you," muttered Jin. They both knew he'd killed for much less.

Having cleared the way in front of him, Jin picked up his mug and stood up to leave. Again, he wavered and paled at the change of position. Without warning, the mug slipped out of his fingers and crashed to the floor and Jin's knees buckled. Reg was still trying to breathe properly but he saw the fuzzy quality that overtook Jin's shape and he was up to his knees in a second to catch the falling body, heedless of the hot liquid that his pants soaked up at the knees. The boy was limp in his arms and his eyes were wide open.

"Jin? Jin," Reg quickly said, snapping his fingers over the white face.

Jin slowly blinked after a few seconds of utter stillness and squinted at Reg. "...Why the fuck are we on the floor?"

"You just fainted," bluntly stated Reg. Now he was feeling annoyed, not just concerned. "I know you hate listening to people but right now your ability to make decisions is definitely impaired so you should probably listen to me when I say you really need to sleep."

"I can't-"

Reg lowered a hand on top of his narrow chest to stop him from getting up. "Jin, no. You just fainted. You know you can't go like this, not when you could faint again."

Jin let his head fall back in the crook of Reg's elbow and muttered: "What the hell do I do, then?"

"Call it off. Say something came up."

Jin's lips pressed together in a tight line and his eyes narrowed. Reg stared back sternly. Then, exasperated, the teenager groaned: "Fine!"

He fished his phone out of his pocket and quickly looked through his most recent calls to quickly expedite a message to the recruit he'd had his eye on and then let his arm and the phone fall back to the ground.

"Done."

Reg nodded in approval. "Okay, let's get you to bed."

"Reg."

"Yes?"

Jin let go of his phone and grabbed the man's white shirt as he rolled over, pushing his face up against Reg's bicep. "I'm so fucking tired."

Reg smiled, taking advantage of the fact that Jin couldn't see him doing so and consequently couldn't snark him for it. "I can see that."

He gathered the slender body in his arms and turned far around enough to pull back the sheets on the bed behind him while disturbing Jin a minimal amount, and then he lifted up the boy and lowered him on the wide mattress. He almost pulled the blanket over Jin's shape but a thin hand sluggishly batted at his gray hair to make him go away, and so he let Jin do it himself. Reg kneeled next to the bed instead and asked: "Should I stay?"

"I'm cold," said Jin. "Get up here, big guy."

Reg diligently nodded. It wasn't that often Jin accepted his presence for comfort and he was more than happy to provide. The man walked around the bed and climbed over the sheets from the other side before lying down and settling curled around Jin's blanketed shape. Reg didn't reach out to hug him, wouldn't ever dare to allow physical contact between them that Jin hadn't asked for, but just laid next to him and waited for the warmth of his body to ebb towards the inside of the cotton coccoon. Jin was asleep in seconds.

[hannahmcne]

Westward sc 3

When he woke up, he was buried underneath a very large, heavy blanket that was pressing him into a thick comforter. The feeling would have been relaxing if it hadn't been so unbearably hot. Slowly, Ben crawled out from underneath the weighted item and discovered that his shoulders, knees, wrists, and ankles were sore. He winced as he rubbed them and then squinted at the daylight visible at the top of the teepee. It looked like mid-afternoon outside and was high-noon in Agrabah inside the teepee.

Ben picked at his clothes. He looked like he'd walked through a waterfall. He was completely drenched in his own sweat and completely parched. He ran his hands through his hair and then found, like Evie had promised, a new outfit laid on a tarp at the center pole of the teepee, where he had originally fallen asleep. A long-sleeved maroon shirt that looked like something that would keep him warm on a jog in November, some tan pants with very deep pockets, and a pair of shoes that were brown with black designs on the sides. He wondered if Evie had made them.

He wasn't too excited to see the winterish clothes but grateful that Evie had come through nonetheless. He wondered what his wardrobe would be the next few months and found he wasn't exactly sorry to say goodbye to suits and polished shoes for a little bit.

He rolled the sleeves up on the shirt to his elbows before he wandered closer to the flap of the teepee. He could hear people bustling around outside. He wondered if it was 'safe' to go out now. He wasn't exactly wearing Auradon colors anymore. What if Evie, Mal, or Uma got mad at him?

He pushed the flap open and stepped out. And the sight outside shocked and scared and thrilled and amazed him all at once. There were so many people.

People were rushing across the camp, which was actually much larger than Ben had first realized. People were standing and chatting, passing water bottles back and forth with bright smiles. People were tending small shops and exchanging wares. Hurt people sat in chairs and talked with each other. Young children raced on little horse and dragon toys, and there were even young adults his age who were walking arm in arm, shoving each other, everything. There were carts and small wagons lining the outside of the main road, which stretched for at least two miles in either way. There were other teepees and small structures, but it appeared everyone was living out of wagons and off the land. How extraordinary.

"Ben!" Someone called, and Ben's head snapped up in the direction of Jay, who was sitting on the back of a cart with Mal and Carlos. Mal was kicking her legs back and forth nonchalantly, and the sight of her made him pause before he glanced to make sure he wouldn't run into anyone and then crossed the road to join them.

"Sleep well?" Jay asked with a laugh as Ben neared them. "You look like you came back from the dead."

"Close enough," Ben shrugged, shielding a yawn. "How long was I out?"

"Four years," Mal drawled. "We made it all the way to the new land without you."

Ben snorted at the same time as Carlos. He took that as a good sign – he was catching on to her humor rather well. Mal looked down at him, carefully taking in the red shirt and his mussed hair, and then glanced away.

"It's only just starting to become evening," Jay assured him. "But we've got things on their way. Some people are already packing up. I think Evie is gonna have your teepee dismantled with the rest and put your stuff in with Carlos and I's wagon. That okay?"

"Only if it's okay with you," Ben assured Jay. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nah, it's cool, man," Carlos nodded. "We've never met a king before. We'll have to assimilate you into Isle culture."

"Assila-wha?" Jay crinkled his brow. "You and Evie both talk mouthfuls."

"It means to integrate. To mix," Ben supplied.

Jay rolled his eyes. "Well, look at this, guys," he elbowed Carlos with a roll of his eyes. "He's pretty, he gives inspirational speeches, and he has a brain."

"Two of those are true," Ben conceded. "However, I'm not sure my looks prevailed after having my face in the mud and then passing out for, well, all day." He tried not to look at Mal or Jay too hard or to sound like he was accusing them.

"Beauty is pain," Mal drawled, pulling her leg up onto her knee and continuing to kick the other one out. "And it could be worse. You could have been woken up right before midnight, hiked through the forest with a defense squadron thinking that the high kingdom had sent someone to order you to move or be moved, accidentally kidnapped the King of Auradon and then stayed up till now without a nap so you could go hunting to feed two-hundred kids and young adults." Mal let out a long, loud, piercing yawn. "I have been up for seventeen hours on two hours of rest."

"My cot is still set up if you want it?" Ben offered, cringing a little as he imagined how damp it might be from him basically drowning in his own sweat. Luckily, Mal didn't seem interested. "And wow, you lead defense squads, cast magic spells, and feed the masses. Anything else?"

"Spray paint," Jay mumbled under his breath. Mal kicked him.

"Excuse you," She spat. "Spray paint is a noble art form. I'd like to see you create anything remotely intelligible."

Jay furrowed his brow. "Intelli-wha?" He asked.

"Don't hate on the spray paint," Carlo nodded. "Her crap is pretty darn near perfect."

Mal let out a snort. "Ha! That's me, I am perfect. She multi-tasks; she dabbles."

"You're the best," Carlos shrugged. Mal nodded in agreement.

"Are you guys… a couple?" Ben asked slowly, glancing between Mal and Carlos. Carlos burst into laughter while Mal gave him an unimpressed look.

"No," She shook her head. "No. So don't get all worried, Prince Charming."

Ben's face turned red as he held up his hands. "I wasn't implying anything," He insisted. "I just wasn't expecting such high praise among friends from the Isle of the Lost."

"We're more like family," Jay explained. His face had taken on some dark tones and he was examining Ben in that same way Evie had been.

"Nah," Mal shook her head and kicked him again. "The King's right. We're like a gigantic lust-fest. You, me, Evie, and Carlos. We're all in a gigantic, messy relationship together."

"Oh, does that mean I get to hold your hand and bring you flowers?" Jay puckered his lips out as he teased her. Immediately, a cloud of rage darkened Mal's face.

"No, that's what Evie's for," She shoved Jay off the cart this time. "But you can walk down the street and make sure Shrimpy isn't messing anything up."

"You're too much work, Mal," Jay sighed. "I'm breaking up with you. You can keep Evie and Carlos."

"Who's Shrimpy?" Ben asked, crossing his arms and choosing not to comment as Carlos began to laugh even harder.

"Uma," Jay rolled his eyes. "She and Mal are having this power struggle that Evie usually balances out."

"It's not a power struggle," Mal hissed. "I'm more powerful than her. Especially here. Her little seashell trick only works near the ocean. I can turn into a dragon wherever. What we have is her thinking she can control me, and Evie trying to convince me to let her."

"So Evie's in charge?" Ben asked, glancing between Carlos and Jay in amusement.

"Evie's our people leader," Jay explained. "She's the, uh, Carlos, what's the word?"

"Executive person," Carlos supplied. "She works better at getting the people to rally behind her, though Mal and Evie both think they're effective leaders." He elbowed Mal, who simmered. "Uma is better at dividing resources and keeping track of things, so she's our Resource Advocate. Mal, you probably noticed, is a fighter. She's the one who keeps us safe and handles the weapons, the squads, anything involving hunting or fighting, etc…"

"Military," Ben supplied. "Cool. It looks like you have things going."

A whiff of something nice caught his nose and he turned to look down the road. In the distance, a thin smoke was rising. "Is that where Uma is now?"

"Yeah," Carlos nodded. "Mal and whoever else was hunting today brought back a few deer. Uma, Harry, Gil, and the pirates used to work her mom's food shop on the Isle, so they and whoever else can cook are handling it."

"I hope she falls in," Mal muttered under her breath. "I wonder what fried octopus tastes like."

"Have you ever tried being nice to her?" Ben suggested, raising his eyes at Mal.

"Have you ever tried kissing up to a live wire?" Mal shot back, turning her fiery gaze on him.

"No, why did you do that?" Ben replied. Carlos snorted and shoved Mal's arm. Mal scoffed and kicked her leg out at Ben. Ben caught her boot and held it up higher. Mal yelped a little as she scooted forward and scowled at Ben as Carlos and Jay both laughed at her. Ben took a moment to examine her foot in his hands. It was small – he could wrap his entire hand around her sole – and he probably had mugs at the palace with a wider diameter than her ankles. Tiny little Cinderella feet, this girl had. But she made up for her size with what looked like acres of toned muscle. He could see strength in every single tendon going up her leg. It helped that she was wearing tight pants with a few threadbare places behind her knees, across her calves, and even stretching up inside her thighs.

He dropped her foot as he felt his face growing a bit warm. Mal scowled a little as she moved back to her original position but didn't seem to have noticed him examining her. Either that, or she seemed to not care. Jay and Carlos, on the other hand, exchanged a cautious look.

Jay leaned forward and clapped Ben's shoulder. "Come on," He invited. "I'll show you Uma's area. You'll probably be helping us pack things up there tomorrow."

Ben nodded and let his eyes rest first on Carlos and then on Mal. He put a hand behind his back and bowed to them both, to which Carlos snorted at again. Then, without another glance back, he followed Jay away.

As soon as they were in the midst of the crowd and out of sight of the cart, Jay swung an arm around Ben's neck. "Okay, listen up," He whispered in a hushed, warning tone. "I want you to picture Mal for a second. Don't ask questions; just do it."

Ben blinked. It wasn't hard to conjure up the image of the purple-haired fairy – especially so soon after glancing at those long, long legs she had. "Okay?" He questioned, furrowing his brow.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Jay pressed his lips together. "I'm sure you noticed how her mouth is all one color and how her eyes have those little flecks that catch the sun, right?"

Ben's mouth went dry. "Jay, if she's yours, then-"

"She's not," Jay hissed, cutting him off. "She's no one's. That's why I'm telling you this – don't go after her. She's pretty to look at, but don't touch her. She's dangerous."

Dangerous. He said it the way you would talk about a person's identity. They're Christian. They're Bisexual. They're president of the women's court or they're the national tourney champion. Not a description; a title. "That's what Evie told me about her," Ben nodded. "But, uh, Jay, I wasn't-"

"Evie's right," Jay interrupted. "Because that purple-haired pixie has more fight in her pinky finger than the rest of us do in our bodies. Even Uma. And she doesn't exactly consider love a priority."

"Jay," Ben interjected with a blush coloring his cheeks. "I'm, uh, taken back home. I'm not going to make a move on Mal."

Jay blinked in surprise. "You're taken?" He asked. "As in, you've got someone waiting for you? Why did you agree to stay, then?"

"I, uh-" Ben stammered and then swallowed. "It's complicated. But she'll understand."

"Sheesh," Jay snorted. "Must be one heck of a patient lady. Alright, then."

They stepped under a little string of blue lights and Ben saw people hard at work cutting up the carcasses of several deer. Dozens of small, hot fires were being tended to by a variety of people in teal blue. Most of them seemed to be pirates. Ben watched a pirate with a teal sash tied around his hat take a large, clean knife from a collection.

"Be warned: Uma might put you to work," Jay called in his ear to be heard over the noise.

Ben looked around at the hustle and bustle. His stomach growled a little at the good smell in the air. "I'd be happy to help,"

"Wonderful," A voice came from his immediate right. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Uma put a hand on his bicep and turned him around. "You ever done any of this before?" She gestured over her shoulder to the deer, which had been strung up with rope so they could effectively get the meat off, and pulled a long, sharp, clean knife out of the pile.

Ben glanced over his shoulder and discovered that Jay had vanished. That didn't surprise him. "I have done high school dissections and I'm a quick learner," Ben shrugged. To be honest, he'd much rather be tending the fire than dismembering meat, but if that's what Uma needed then he would do it.

"Lovely," Uma clapped him on the arm and handed him the knife. "Gil has been at this for four hours since Mal's crew started bringing in the first few. They brought in extra so we could smoke some and that way we don't have to stop as we travel. I'm going to have him show you how to do it so you can take his place and then when all is said and done, you'll either be on the smoke racks or cooking things with Harry." She pointed at a tall, bulky, blonde-haired man who was mostly apart from everyone else. Ben nodded and, taking the knife firmly in his hand, headed towards the lone outsider.

"Hey, I'm Ben," He called when he got near enough. "Uma sent me to help you out. She said she wants you to teach me how to do this and then take a break."

Gil wiped off his forehead as he stood up and looked at Ben. His face lit up with a bright, childish smile. "Hey man! I know you! You're the character who passed out in the teepee today when we were bringing you your cot!"

Ben turned a little red. "Yeah, sorry about that," He apologized. "I meant to be awake to help you guys but I, uh, had lost a lot of sleep."

"Hey, no problem," Gil reassured him. "And uh, you're King Ben, right? I know you, man!"

"Really?" Ben raised an eyebrow and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "No one has recognized me yet."

"Well, my dad talks about your dad a lot," Gil said nonchalantly. "My dad… well, I'll give you a hint. He's quick, slick, and his neck is incredibly think."

G. Gil. Gaston. Ben inclined his head. "Do you… have a problem with me?" He asked cautiously. "I mean, I don't have a problem with you, but…"

"Nah," Gil shook his head. "I never really cared. But hey, when you get back to the castle, tell your mom that Gaston says hi, and tell your dad that – well, actually, don't mention that." He snorted and then gestured to the deer he was working on. "I already got the insides out and took care of the fur. We have someone from Evie's crew working on the hides because they're tough and we can make things with them. Mal has this nifty spell she made up that makes it so we don't have to wait for the meat to get older so it's softer. Usually, you have to wait until after this thing that Evie and Carlos know the word for goes away. It think it starts with an r…"

"Rigor Mortis," Ben supplied.

"Yeah, that's the word!" Gil nodded in approval. "We basically do it piece by piece. I already did the shoulders and that's the easy part, but I'll help you go through the rest. We have people over there with smaller knives who are getting things ready to be smoked or dried or cooked. The important thing over here is to not let it touch the ground and to not shred the meat to bad – oh, have you washed your hands?"

"I haven't," Ben shook his head. "But I will right now." Gil nodded and turned back to the beast. Ben turned away and spotted a line of people rinsing their hands off under a stream of water. He followed them, scrubbed his hands off(they even had soap… in the forest?) and then returned as Gil was handing off a few large pieces of meat to a young girl who'd come to get them.

Gil carefully explained how to trim the fat so that Uma could have the others turn it into soap or use it for whatever else she could find. Then, he guided Ben through the butchering process. Ben never, in a hundred years, had imagined he would be doing this, but decided it was best to consider his life choices when he wasn't holding a very large and heavy knife.

Gil stopped helping him after a while and went to go clean his knife off and get his water bottle, but then he returned and started talking to Ben as Ben worked, occasionally giving advice but mostly telling jokes about Auradon, the villains, and everything else he could think of. It was refreshing – Ben couldn't remember the last time he'd actually laughed with a friend.

"Hey, Ben," Gil started, taking a swig of his water bottle. "Do you know the name of the prize my dad won?"

Ben paused to briefly examine Gil, who was trying his best to not smile as he kept his eyes off his new comrade. "No," He responded slowly. "Does it have anything to do with hunting?"

Gil shrugged. "Depends on your point of view?" He shrugged. "I don't think so."

Ben shook his head. "I give up," He declared. "What was the name of the prize your dad won?"

"The No-Belle prize," Gil responded, snorting a little as he spoke.

Ben burst into laughter – the embarrassing kind where you snort and chortle more than you actually laugh. He turned away from Gil as Gil began to laugh even harder at his embarrassment, and then leaned his head against the tree they'd been working beside. "Oh my gosh," He gasped. "Oh my gosh."

Gil smiled brightly and took another drink before he pointed to the sky. "The sun is going down," He pointed out. "We better finish up soon. Do you have a place to stay? It'd be nice to have a bunkmate. Harry usually hangs with Uma."

"I've been put with Jay and Carlos," Ben explained. "But maybe I'll switch around. I like you a lot."

"Me too," Gil nodded. He got to his feet. "Let me finish up these last little bits. If you take what you've cut up over to Harry and everyone, they can show you how we get things done."

Ben nodded. He would have shaken hands with Gil, but his hands were kinda gory. So instead he laughed and thanked Gil and then took the collection of his work over to the opposite side of the road, where he put it down on a rack, like how he'd seen another young boy do it.

"Well, well, well," Someone drawled over his shoulder. "Wha' a lovely surprise."

Ben turned and found a man's face hovering close to his. He leaned back a little, eyes wide, and the man let out a tiny, barking laugh. "How's it feel being a king now?" He asked, leaning in even more with a crazed glint in his eyes. Then, maniacal laughter spilled from his lips as he retreated, curling his fingers and removing his pirate's hat. His red and white clothes were in tatters and clutched in his left hand was a glinting, slightly dinged pirate's hook.

"Give it a rest, Harry," Uma rolled her eyes, putting a hand on Ben's shoulder as she navigated around him. "He's still new."

"Aye, we nicked him," Harry agreed, a mischievous glint in his eye. "How long d'ya think he'll last?"

Uma laughed. "Evie told us not to scare him off. Honored guest."

At this, Harry's face twisted into something similar to rage, though a strong sense of humor remained trapped underneath his skin. "You said I could hook him!" He declared, brandishing the hook at Ben.

"I said if he didn't do his work," Uma corrected, rolling her eyes. "And you don't need to get all jealous. If anything, he's gonna end up Evie's second." The daughter of the sea witch gave him a cursory glance. "Though he probably wouldn't mind if Mal decided she wanted a partner."

Ben's cheeks burned red. "I'm not here for any relationships," He corrected Uma quickly. "I'll be working with them, and you, but I'm, uh, already spoken for back home."

Uma raised an eyebrow and turned to Harry. "Don't listen to him," She advised. "You should have seen him turn into a fish when he first saw Mal. Even if he is spoken for, it won't last long with her around."

"I'm married," Ben interrupted. He felt around his neck and pulled up a ring on a chain strung about his head. "I don't wear the ring while I travel in case of ambushes but I'm married."

Uma gave the ring a cursory look. She hummed. "Pity for her," She shrugged and then turned around. "Alright, Harry, how much more?"

Ben let the comment slide. True, Mal was lovely, and yes, Evie seemed to be rather offended that he didn't find her equally so, but he was tied to Audrey by law. There would be no ruination of that fact while he remained here.

Uma and Harry wandered away without giving him any more commands, and Ben shifted uncomfortably before glancing down the assembly line. It amazed him how many people there were. Children and teenagers were everywhere, tending to all sorts of different tasks. He noticed that there were fewer of them further down the path, where large drying racks were set up beside fires and a couple of smaller children occasionally turned the meat so it would dry evenly. He headed down that way.

Ben supposed, gauging from the shortage of helpers and the type thereof that this was a task reserved for the small children, but seeing as he'd been given no other orders, he guessed that this would be a good place for him to pitch in until Uma came up with another job.

A bright-eyed little girl with colorful streaks in her brown hair was chatting happily with anyone who dared come too close to her lively spirit. Ben examined her from a distance – the colorful, jeweled headset around her head, the large glasses, and frilly dress. It struck him how alike she and Evie were. He'd assumed all of the people on the Isle simply went around ruining each other's lives over and over again and again, yet it seemed he couldn't have been farther from wrong. These people were creative, dedicated, and happy. Sure, they could all probably kill him and they had all had their fair share of hardships, but they were good. A deep love was taking root in his chest for every single one.

"Can you acquaint me with the process?" He asked cheerfully, stepping up next to the small girl. She looked up at him with a bright, fearless smile. "Of course!" She exclaimed. "We're just rotating everything around every half hour to make sure it dries evenly. And there's a system! Those ones over there will need to be done in five minutes, and then those and those-" She pointed to each of the fires in turn and it occurred to Ben that there were six fires. Clever.

"So, what's your name?" He asked, reaching up and helping her begin unpinning strips of meat. They had a nifty contraption that looked like a giant shelf, but with thin boards that held clothespins to dangle the meat in the smoke and above the flames. There were four to each fire set at equal distances with about two or three hovering around the one he had joined.

"I'm Dizzy," the girl introduced. Ben cast his mind back to his list of villains that he'd memorized at fourteen for his ninth-year history project – she could be the daughter of Doctor Doom or Doctor Doofenshmirtz, but his best guess was Lady Tremaine's granddaughter.

"Drizella's daughter?" He asked to confirm.

Dizzy nodded a little, keeping her mouth closed in an easygoing line. "Yeah," She agreed softly. "What about you? Were you sent to the Isle afterward? You don't seem like someone who was there for very long."

"Neither do you," Ben pointed out, casting his mind back to Mal, Evie, and Uma. "And no, I'm someone Mal picked up on the road yesterday and I've decided to hang out."

Dizzy looked over at him with wide eyes. "Oh!" She gasped and almost dropped the piece of meat she was turning. "You're the king? You're the person who's going to be helping us?"

Ben could blush and stutter out something. Or he could tease her for not knowing him. Neither seemed like the best reaction. So, instead, he stopped and wiped his hands on his pants for a second before he bowed, picking up Dizzy's hand and kissing her knuckles for a few seconds. He could feel eyes boring into his back – maybe Uma, maybe Harry, maybe any number of Islanders. Or maybe Mal. He imagined her green gaze watching him and a smile crooked his mouth as he stood back up. "I'm Ben," he introduced, leaving out the title. It was better without the title. He was more like them without making himself out to be something he had never really been able to play the part of. "Please to meet you, Lady Dizzy,"

"Well, aren't you a charmer?" A sultry voice came from behind him. He glanced over as he straightened up and saw Evie, still in her clothes from earlier, looking a little offended as she watched him release Dizzy's hand. "Where was that chivalry earlier when I was with you?"

Ben's danger sense, however weak it was, started tingling. "I don't usually do that," he admitted with a light blush. "I just thought that… the situation called for it." He wanted to impress the younger girl. He wanted to make her feel special.

"Ah," Evie's lips curled. "I see. You shake hands with me, kiss Dizzy's hand, and get on your knees for Mal."

"I did not-" Ben began before he recalled what she was referring to. He exhaled. "Evie, is it so much of a problem to you if I want to make Dizzy feel special? Could you perhaps be grateful for the way I did act rather than terrorize me for not immediately being smitten?"

Evie flinched and frowned and Dizzy set a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Ben," she consoled him. "Evie and I are like sisters. And she's been through lots. You can take the Isle out of the girl, but you can't take the girl out of the Isle!"

That doesn't stop Evie from turning and striding away.

"I hurt her, didn't I?" Ben whispered as he watched Evie disappear.

"It'll be okay," Dizzy shakes her head. "She's just been clued in to how she's still bending to her mom a little. We all forget; it's hard when we haven't been gone so long yet." She glanced through a rack at Ben. "Her mom used to beat her for every man who didn't stare when she walked past. So she's always tried really hard with people who don't react as quickly. And it doesn't help that you're a King with a big castle." Dizzy paused as she flipped around another strip of venison. "How many rooms in your castle?"

"I, uh…" Ben stuttered, completely thrown off by what Dizzy had revealed to him about Evie. He couldn't imagine being beat because other people didn't look at you as you walked past. "Uh… too many. Too many to count."

Dizzy nodded like this made sense. "Do you think there'd be enough for every one of us to come to live there?" She asked. "I know Evie said that we're going to go build our own place, but I was just wondering."

"I don't think so," Ben replied honestly, looking around at everyone surrounding them. "I wish, though. I'd take you all with me in a heartbeat." Then, he smiled at Dizzy. "Especially you."

"I've always wanted to go to Auradon," Dizzy sighed dramatically. "Do you really have carpets you can walk onto? Have you been to a swimming pool before? What does ice cream taste like?"

Ben stopped and stared at her. There was this horrible building in his chest that felt like he was being filled with hot tar. "Carpets?" He asks weakly. They have carpets everywhere. They have carpet decorations hanging on some of the walls. Little Belle has bright pink carpets that make his head hurt every time he walks in. Audrey has her own thick, plush carpet rug that he's not supposed to touch. And swimming pools… he's taken Belle to the pool more times than he's taken her anywhere else. She doesn't like swimming but he makes sure she goes and that she knows how to swim, no matter how much of a fit she throws. "I, uh, yeah," He agreed softly. "I'll have some carpets sent to you guys when you get things set up. Big ones with fun colors that feel soft. And, uh, yeah, I love swimming. Ice cream… well, there are different flavors, but it's cold and sweet, and if you eat it too fast, then it gives you a headache."

"Really?" Dizzy gasped, eyes growing large and bright in excitement. "I've never had ice cream and most of the carpets are ruined. Cruella De Vil has lots, though, but we're not allowed to touch. Mal once threw a party at Carlos's house and so I got to see them then. And I don't know anyone except for Uma and her pirates who can swim."

"You live on an island," Ben blinked. "You can't swim?"

"There's a barrier," Dizzy shook her head. "Even Evie and Mal can't swim."

The back of Ben's neck grew hot, as if someone was glaring at him from behind. He stored that bit of knowledge about Mal away and then exhaled. "If you can't swim… how did you make it here?" He asked.

"Carlos built boats," Dizzy shrugged. "After he broke the barrier and Mal kept it open for everyone to get out, they put everyone on boats. And Mal cast an invisibility spell so we could cross without Auradon finding out. That's also why Uma was allowed to come."

There was so much information in that sentence that Ben had to stop and stare. Carlos built boats. Carlos broke the barrier. And Mal held it open. Holy crap.

"That's cool," he managed to choke out after a little bit. "And good that you were able to come over. I… wish I'd been able to bring you over myself. I guess I was too busy being king… gosh, that sounds lame." He exhaled and shook his head. "So, what about you? What was your life like?"

"I worked in Grandma's hair shop," Dizzy answered. "I had a few customers… a witch here and there. I mostly did lots of scrubbing and scouring and sweeping. Lots and lots of sweeping."

"Sounds like the old Cinderella treatment," Ben mumbled.

Dizzy's eyes flicked back up through the rack, and then she glanced past Ben as a group of kids ran by screaming. "Yeah," She mumbled. "She went from Wicked Stepmother to Wicked Grandmother."

Ben gestured out to the kids with a thumb. "You want to join them?" He whispered.

Dizzy shook her head. "Not really," She declined. "I know I should, but I'm used to the work. It still feels weird to play."

A little boy that only came up to Ben's knee dashed up and tapped his hand on Ben's thigh. "Diseased," He announced. "You're diseased."

Diseased. Ben glanced up as the group of kids all howled and shrieked at him. He reached over and tapped Dizzy. "Now you're diseased too," He laughed.

"Me? I can't be diseased!" Dizzy stared at him. "Who will tend the fires?"

A man in white and red stepped up out of the shadows that Ben hadn't even realized were falling over the camp. It was Carlos, who had apparently made his way down to Uma's side of the camp. "Go on, Diz," he encouraged her. "You need a break. I'll cover you."

Dizzy hesitated, and Ben took her shoulders and shoved her away. "Go on," He told her. "Go play. You're only a kid once."

The little boy jumped up for Ben's hand. "You too!" He declared, yanking on Ben's fingers.

"I dunno," Ben shook his head. "I've got to help Carlos with the – Woah!" He tripped forward, glimpsing only Jay's long, brown hair as he caught his balance, and then the other diseased kids flooded around him to pull him in as Mal's two associates began finishing the fire he and Dizzy had been on. Dizzy shrieked as she was pulled into the vortex of screaming kids.

Ben laughed as he was pushed to the ground and then started grabbing random children, gathering them into his arms, and tickling their sides mercilessly. He laughed, then let out a little roar that made all the kids scream and giggle. Little ones climbed up onto his back and older children hung off his neck as they tried to team wrestle him to the ground. Some danced out of his reach and pointed their fingers with little shrieks. "Beast!" They cried. "Beast! Beast!"

It appeared word of who he was had gotten around. Ben didn't mind all that much as he picked up one of the smallest children and tossed them, squalling above his head, into the air. More kids gathered around. "Me! Me! Me!" They begged. Others held fast to his back. "Piggy-back ride!" They shrieked.

Instead, Ben reached out to one of the older kids. "Tag!" He yelled. "You're diseased!" Immediately, everyone jumped away, screaming, and took off running as the child tried frantically to tag everyone who dashed past. Ben jumped out of the way and about ten small children and older toddlers ran after him, letting out little yells as they dashed away from the tagger.

The sun went down. Ben did his best to guide the cluster of children away from the fires, but they all slowly dropped out one by one as the sun dipped out of sight and the night grew cool. Some mothers and caregivers called the children for dinner while others went of their own accord. Eventually, Ben was left to pick up three tiny kids who hadn't yet recovered from Isle emaciation and head up to the camp with Dizzy looping her arm through his and resting her head on his biceps. He balanced one kid on each shoulder as they yawned and stuck thumbs into their mouths, and then one six-year-old boy climbed onto his back and burrowed his nose into Ben's shirt as they walked up. The racks were still up, but adults were now switching the meat from side to side as the children all ate and went to sleep. Ben found several clean blankets stacked beside a wooden cart and spread them out, laying each of the three kids comfortably before covering them from the night chill. Dizzy he let use his arm a little longer as she tried to find Evie and then finally set her inside what she said was her cart so she could curl up with a soft sigh on her own blankets.

Ben leaned against a tree and watched as Uma directed for bones to be chopped up for broth to be made with and a large collection of young adults started packing away the jerky venison for the trip. His arms felt a bit sore from playing with all the kids, but he supposed he'd better get used to it. A few days more, and they'd be packing up this small camp and heading west.

He wondered if Audrey had been informed he'd vanished yet.

Someone slinked up through the shadows to him and held out a white plate to him. He took it, curious, and then saw green eyes light up through the dark. His hands went a bit clammy and a deep fire lit in his stomach as he stared at her. Mal.

"Good job tonight," She commended. "That looked absolutely exhausting."

Ben laughed a little, nervously. "What's this?" He asked.

"Dinner," Mal declared, stepping forward and leaning against the tree as well. She was facing the other direction and not nearly close enough for him to touch, but it was still close and he felt his breath hitch. "You missed it, so Uma put that aside for you."

"Ah," Ben nodded, squinting through the dark and then reaching down to feel some jerky and something that felt like a fresh vegetable on the side. "Thank you." It occurred to him that he hadn't eaten all day. "Is it safe?"

Mal burst into laughter, rolling her eyes, and Ben blushed. "Sorry," He apologized. "I didn't mean to accuse or anything."

"No, no," Mal shook her head. "I get it. Be careful of the food offered by kids of villains. I'm sure every kid in Auradon would know that."

"No!" Ben disagreed, snapping a little in his haste to explain himself. "No, that wasn't it at all. I totally trust you!" And to prove this, he reached down and found a piece of the vegetable, quickly raising it to his mouth and biting. Mal watched him with slatted eyes. It was so dark, he could barely tell where her body was, though he knew in the back of his mind what she looked like. Thin and powerful and with calluses and muscle in place of everywhere Audrey had soft skin and plush weight. He remembered, briefly, what it had felt like when he and Audrey had last lain beside each other over two years ago and then pictured Mal lying at his side in his wife's place.

God, was he so twisted that he was replacing Audrey after being away for a day?

'A month,' a voice nagged in his head. 'You haven't seen her for over a month. And she didn't look at you when you went to see her, so she hasn't seen you in longer.'

"I was just joking," she started in a slow tone. "I don't expect you to trust us after knowing us for a day and for, well, everything last night."

Ben blinked back at her and he hoped he could see the honesty in his eyes. "But I do," he replied.

Mal rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe you're a fool after all," She declared, and then pushed off of the tree. "Don't die overnight. Evie's rather fond of you."

"No, she's not, but she thinks I'm fond of you," Ben refuted. His words made Mal stop. She didn't turn to look at him, but he could almost feel her lips press closed.

"Careful, your majesty," she mumbled in a little hiss that had him immediately drawing connections to snakes and lizards and dragons. "Hasn't anybody bothered to warn you yet?"

"Only every person who mentions you," Ben raised an eyebrow. It was dark, but he somehow knew she would know. "It makes me wonder what happened to the last poor fellow?"

Mal snorted a little like he was a small child who'd said something particularly amusing and then walked away, still not looking back at him. He frowned a little and finished his dinner in the dark. Then, minding the ground, he headed back to the fires. In the light of one, Uma and Harry were standing very close, speaking to each other with tiny grins and soft whispers. Uma wrapped her fingers around Harry's hook carefully, and he watched her with a crazed look.

Ben set his plate down with a small stack of others he could vaguely see the outlines of. Uma glanced up at him. "Oh, good, you did get something to eat. I was wondering."

Ben nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "Thanks for setting it aside for me."

Harry tilted his head a little and frowned at Ben as Uma's face twisted in confusion. "What?" She asked.

Ben stopped and examined her face. Pure, unabashed loss. She had no clue what she was talking about. "Oh," he shrugged it off. "I must have been misinformed. Pardon me. Well, I'll see you in the morning, then."

He turned and walked away, and Uma did not follow.

He went back up the road and found where Jay, Carlos, and Mal had been before. Jay and Carlos were curled up in their cots in the backs of their carts, and in the middle was a spare one for Ben. He hopped up, pulled his shoes off, and glanced around and up at the stars before noticing the next cart over. It was darkened, but nothing could silence Mal's striking green gaze as she hovered on the edge of the cart, gazing out over the road with her slatted gaze and watching everyone come and go. Watching him, specifically. She was like some emerald-gazed gargoyle, staring down from above.

Ben didn't say anything to her. He had a feeling he'd done enough damage for one day. He pulled up under the blankets and pressed his nose into the pillow, trying to put out the girl next door from his thoughts without forcing his head to acknowledge that there might be a small problem.

[my-intrests-are-yours]

Ducktales 2017: Gratitude & First Dates (pt. 1)

To say it was a slow day was an understatement.

When Mr. McDuck first hiried Fenton to be a superhero, the young duck assumed it was gonna be fast paced and action packed from day to day.

Already a week in and nothing happened yet. A giant, gold eating, magic, money shark with LEGS literally attacked the city not even a month ago.

“Why hasn’t anything happened yet!” Fenton thought to himself.

He should happy that the good people of Duckburg are safe and he is. It’s just that he is so bored out of his mind.

Seeing as today was gonna be a slow day yet again, the superhero decided to go visit Dr. Gearloose’s lab at the Money Bin; kinda hoping one of his inventions went haywire and gone rouge.

To his surprise, Fenton found the scientist passed out on the cot he put in the lab back when he was a intern.

“He must have spent the last three nights working straight,” Fenton said to himself “Again.”

The ex-intern was just about to leave when he heard the familiar ding of the elevator. Out walked a duck clad in a black sailor suit.

Fenton didn’t mean to stare but M’ma taught him to appreciate the uniform from an very early age. Didn’t matter if it was police or the navy she taught him to respect the men and women who wore them; cause they are here to serve and protect, pollito. Guess it turned into something a bit more than respect.

A minute or so passed before the superhero realized he was staring. Meanwhile, the sailor just stood there awkwardly slightly blushing under his gaze.

“D-Donald” the sailor stuttered sticking his hand out.

The awkward introduction spurred the superhero out of his daze.

“W-What!?”

The sailor offered him a smile and stuck his hand further in his direction.

“Donald Duck, nice to meet you”

“F-Fenton,” the scientist began “C-Crackshell-Cabrera!”

Now it was the superhero’s turn to blush. Way to go, Fenton. Totally bombed that introducktion.

“Nice to meet you Fenton” The sailor, Donald, greeted.

“Nice to meet you too, Donald Duck” Fenton greeted back.

It took a moment for the awkward tension between the two of them to a settle.

“So, what brings you here Mr. Duck?” Fenton asked.

“Donald is fine,” he said offering the superhero a small smile, “I’m actually looking for Dr. Gearloose. Do you know where he is?”

“Dr Gearloose is currently unconscious,” the ex-intern began “his great venture into revolutionzing the scientific field spanned several sleepless nights. His body finally caught to his mind.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Donald asked.

“No worries, Dr. Gearloose tends to do this quite often,” Fenton replies matter of factly.

The superhero then turns to Donald and asks, “If you require assistance, I more than delighted to help in you endeavor!”

“All Right” Donald replied a little shakily; somewhat caught of guard by Fenton’s energy.

“Illumination!” The superhero exclaimed jumping a little. Which prompted Donald to slightly chuckle, resulting in a small blush forming on the ex-intern’s cheeks.

“I’m looking for someone...” The sailor began but was interrupted by the excitable superhero.

“Fantastic,” The scientist exclaimed jumping to his feet, “Dr. Gearloose just completed a prototype for city ranged tracker. Mr. McDuck issued it to keep track of his numerous enemies as well as possible threats to the city. But mostly it’s for threats to his fortune.”

“Of course he would” Donald slyly remarked with exasperation.

The scientist then sprinted to the other side of the lab towards a pile of inventions. He shifted through them commenting every so often with: “No”, “Not this”, “Almost”, “When did he build this?”, and “Why?”.

Donald watched in amusement. With Fenton so intently focused looking for that machine, the sailor can finally get a good look at him. Clearly he is of Latino descent possibly Puerto Rican. His hair, Donald can’t describe it other than swooshy. The way he furrows his eyes is, admittedly kinda cute.

‘Geez’ Donald thought to himself, ‘he hasn’t had these kinds of thoughts since before the triplets’

As Fenton approached Donald’s attention was diverted from his thoughts of the duck towards the machine he was holding. It was a metallic and sphereical shaped. In addition it was emiting blue light from the lines that traced all around the orb.

“Introducing the Gearloose Tracker One,” The superhero exclaimed raising the tracker up in the air, “the name’s a work in progress but with this you would surely find your (man/duck)(???)”.

Fenton handed Donald the tracker, who inspected it throughly.

“So...,” Donald began to ask, “how does it work?”

“Oh right! As I told you previously the tracker’s range spans the entire city so as long as they are in Duckburg you should be fine,. ” Fenton stated.

Taking the tracker from Donald, he then turns it over and opens a small compartment area Donald didn’t even notice during his inspection. From the little storage space came a blue headband laced with wires and lights.

“This headband is a neural scanner,” He exclaimed holding the headband out to Donald who cautiously took it, “ once you put it on, it scans your thoughts. All you need to do is think about the person your trying to find and it will instantaneously transfer that data into the orb where it will scan the entire city. Once located the orb will move towards the direction of that person taking you straight towards them!”

It took a while for the sailor to fully process what the scientist just said. Basically I think and it leads. Should be simple enough but knowing his luck and Gyro’s history it probably won’t end well.

“Okay” Donald simply stated before putting the headband on.

Fenton then came over and pressed a button on the back of the headband. With their faces so close to eachother, Donald as well as Fenton couldn’t help but blush. The superhero then coughed, flashed a awkward smile towards the sailor’s way, and padded over towards the orb to turn it on.

“Okay,” The scientist began walking away slightly to give Donald some room, “All you need to do is think of the person you want to find. You ready Donald?”

The sailor replied with a nervous smile and a thumbs up.

Donald thinks about his voice confident and somewhat dramtic. His smile awkward, nervous, and confident all at the same time. His beak smooth and strong the one thing that tells the sailor that there is someone inside that suit. The gears in the sailor’s mind grind and grind working to squeeze out every single detail about the superhero from their brief encounter.

A tense and silent minute passed before the orb whizzed to life.

The blue light emerging from the lines intensified. The machine slowly and steadily began to rise, simultaneously spinning and sputtering machine noises.

Just as soon as it started it suddenly stopped. For a minute it just hovered there leaving the two ducks to just stare at the orb. 

Instantaneously it glowed red and hissed. 

“Not a good sign.” Fenton whispered worriedly under his breath. 

It began spinning maniacally and zoomed around the room like a shark suddenly dropped in a tank. It was fast and aggressive causing the sailor and superhero to take cover.

“This is disastrous!” The superhero exclaimed running and ducking trying to avoid the orb and it’s soon-to-be path of destruction. 

He found cover with Donald behind a makeshift barricade. The scientist was lucky the sailor grabbed his wrist and dragged him behind the barricade, which honestly was just an overturned table. 

They sat in silence for a minute watching the orb turn the lab into a war zone. 

“How is Gyro sleeping through all this?” Donald questioned.

“Dr. Gearloose just finished a three day shift with no sleep,” Fenton responded, “during these naps of his he has slept through a lot of boisterous things.” 

Donald laughed completely understanding where Gyro is coming from. 

“When my boys were smaller they were really fussy,” the sailor began turning away from watching the orb’s war path, “Once I put one down another would start fussing. And once I got him to sleep the third would just start bawling. Which woke up the other two. It was an endless cycle of crying.” 

There was no trace of strife in Donald’s voice as he told that story. In fact Donald told the story as if he spent the whole day in a theme park instead of staying up all night tending to crying ducklings. 

There was no doubt in Fenton’s mind that Donald loves his kids. He found it sweet and to be honest Donald’s nurturing nature was making the superhero’s heart flutter. 

“How are you so hot, right now?” Fenton pondered under his breath.

“What?” asked Donald turning to meet Fenton’s mortified expression.

“N-NOTHING!” the scientist yelped turning away to hide his blushing face. 

Before they could continue their conversation further the orb burst through the barricade causing the two ducks to scramble towards safety. The tracker gave them no time to recover, quickly it dived for the superhero sprawled on the floor.

Luckily for Fenton, Donald as well dove towards the scientist and rolled them both out of safety, saving the scientist once again.

“Thanks,” said the scientist

“No time,” replied the sailor gesturing towards the exit, “Come on”

Fenton got up and followed Donald who was already running towards the exit.

They bob and weaved passed the orb which was attempting to tackle them. As every minute passed the orb became more erratic and moved faster and faster than before.

Donald and Fenton were several feet from the exit when the orb lunged towards the elevator’s metal doors. The orb pried itself out the dent it made on the doors and shot towards the ducks again.

It tackled Donald, throwing him to the other side of the room.

“DONALD!”

The sailor hit the wall and landed to the floor with an ‘umph’.

Fenton ran towards Donald his mind racing as the seconds ticked by.

“What am I doing?”

The orb was gearing itself for a second attack

“I’m suppose to be a superhero”

It spun and whirred while it emitted an even more intense red light.

“Mr. McDuck hired me to protect the people of Duckburg and I let one get hurt”

It stopped and positioned itself towards the sailor.

“I can’t let him down a second time”

It lunged forward causing the sailor to wince at the incoming attack.

“BLATHERING BLATHERSKITE!”

Donald opened his eyes and to his amazement the person he was looking for was right in front of him.

Gizmoduck was standing over Donald clutching the Tracker Orb in one hand with the other protectivly over the sailor.

The superhero crushed the orb and tossed it towards the wall. He turned to meet the shocked face of Donald.

After a brief moment of silence Donald was the first to speak:

“Huh?”

“Yeah”

[catsandtruecrime]

The Tragic Case of Susan, Charlie, and Braden Powell

Stay away from guys with the last name Peterson (see Scott, Drew, and Michael).

Do not move to Puyallup, Washington (seriously, so many murders and disappearances happen there).

These are two things that the world of true crime has taught me to avoid. While today’s story isn’t about a man named Peterson, Puyallup is where our story about another wife murdering psycho starts and ends. I would consider this case one of “my” cases. Other true crime junkies know exactly what I’m talking about; “my” cases are the ones that I never stop thinking about. I want to share them with everyone I know and whether solved or unsolved, they live in my head rent free, as the kids would say.

Today’s story is neither solved or unsolved; it’s a bit weird in that way. While most people are confident that Susan Powell’s family will never see her again, her body has never been found, so she’s never been confirmed dead. With that said, though, the end of this story makes it pretty easy to assume that that’s the case and that Susan’s death can be attributed to her husband, Josh. But I’m getting ahead of myself, so lets start from the very beginning.

Susan Cox and Josh Powell both grew up in the Mormon community in Puyallup, Washington. Susan was born in 1981 and was one of four daughters. Her family remembers that she loved riding horses when she was younger, and spent a lot of her time singing in her school and church choirs.

When Susan was 18, she met Josh Powell at an event for young Mormons that they had both decided to attend. Their church regularly held services for congregations of young, single Mormons; it was as much a church service as it was a place to potentially meet your future spouse in their eyes.

Josh was 5 years older than Susan, making him 23 at the time that they met. He’s described by family and friends as being ambitious and confident, but also nerdy and awkward. Apparently Susan saw something in him, because after just meeting in October of 2000, the pair were engaged by December of the same year.

Susan and Josh Powell were married in April of 2001 and Susan quickly took on the role of the provider once they relocated to West Valley City, Utah near Salt Lake City; Josh was constantly in and out of jobs while Susan worked at the local branch of Wells Fargo in investments.

What seemed like a relatively happy marriage only seemed to become more picturesque once Susan and Josh had their two sons, Charlie in 2005, and Braden in 2007. While Susan was a doting mother who showed unconditional love for her boys, Josh was described as an “unattached dad” and Kiirsi Hellewell, Susan’s best friend, said in the 20/20 episode on Susan’s case, “Josh held Charlie when he wanted to show him off…he didn’t want to change diapers or bathe him…” It seemed to most people that unless his kids were making him look like a respectable, attentive, great father in the eyes of the public, Josh couldn’t care less about them.

Susan’s friends and family also described Josh as “controlling,” and Susan herself showed fear that Josh’s abusive tendencies could one day become her downfall. Before her disappearance in December of 2009 (we’ll get there…don’t worry…) Kiirsi eventually convinced Susan to meet with a divorce attorney after repeatedly expressing concerns about Josh’s controlling and manipulative behavior. Although Susan was the one making money for the family, Josh was the one who liked to spend; he regularly made extravagant purchases for himself, while monitoring and policing the purchases Susan wanted to make with her own money. As there was clear strife within their marriage, her attorney advised her to document her assets on video, which she did, along with documenting property damage that she attributed to one of Josh’s fits of rage.

Susan burned the video to a DVD which she then locked in a secret safety deposit box, along with a makeshift will that police later found when investigating her disappearance. In her will, Susan made several concerning statements, including, "I want it documented that there is extreme turmoil in our marriage" and, "If I die, it may not be an accident, even if it looks like one.”

On the night of Sunday, December 6th, 2009, JoVanna Owings, one of Josh and Susan’s friends from church, came over for dinner. JoVanna recounted that while she and Susan chatted and crocheted, Josh and the boys took to the kitchen to make everyone dinner. From Josh, who had never taken an interest in anything domestic, this act was seen as odd and out of character from everyone involved.

JoVanna also described that the way in which Josh cooked struck her as strange; he had decided to make pancakes for everyone, and JoVanna noticed that he made the pancakes one by one, and served everyone one by one. In the 20/20 special on Susan’s disappearance, JoVanna described how she and Susan ate their pancakes in the living room, while Josh and the boys ate in the kitchen. Kiirsi Hellewell points out that this was incredibly out of character and not a normal routine for the family at all. “That would  have been completely out of the ordinary. I’ve never, ever, ever seen them eat in the living room.”

Shortly after eating, Susan began to feel ill and decided to lay down to take a nap. JoVanna took that opportunity to leave for the night, and Josh followed JoVanna out, saying that he was going to take Charlie and Braden sledding for a bit. JoVanna was still sitting in her van in the Powells’ driveway when Josh and the boys left.

The next morning, on Monday, December 7th, 2009, Charlie and Braden didn’t show up to daycare, and Susan and Josh were both absent from their jobs. Naturally, everyone who knew the Powells became worried when they didn’t hear from anyone in the family that morning. Friends and family worried that the family may have fallen victim to carbon monoxide poisoning, and the police were called to perform a wellness check.

When they arrived, police entered the home to find no sign of a disturbance, and none of the Powell family members inside. They noted that Susan’s purse was on a table with her wallet and credit cards inside. Police also noted that there were two box fans running on high, pointed at wet spots on the living room carpet. There was no vehicle in the garage.

On the evening of Monday, December 7th, at about 5 pm, Josh finally showed up at his house with Charlie and Braden in tow. He explained that he had taken Charlie and Braden to go camping at Simpson Springs Campground, about two hours away from their home. They had left sometime between midnight and 12:30 am according to Josh. Keep in mind here…Charlie is 4 and Braden is 2…not a move from the world’s greatest dad, waking your toddlers up in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT to go camping. That night, temperatures were below freezing and a blizzard was expected to bring 2-4 feet of snow throughout the day on Monday, beginning in the early morning hours.

When Josh and the boys returned, police questioned him regarding Susan’s whereabouts and they also searched the family’s van that Josh and the boys had returned in. Inside the van, they found Susan’s cell phone in the center console, as well as a generator, gas can, tarps, blankets, and a shovel. The SIM card was removed from Susan’s cell phone and Josh was unable to explain why he had it or why the SIM card was missing.

While Josh was at the police station being questioned on Monday night, police say that he quickly went from putting on an emotional show to entirely emotionless and unhelpful. Josh gave minimal information and asked no questions about his wife or whether the police had any leads. Later, Josh also refused to participate in any searches for Susan.

The same day, Charlie was also interviewed by police regarding the camping trip he had supposedly gone on with his father and brother. Charlie told the interviewing officer, “My dad came home, but mommy stayed at [the park]. She’s where the crystals are.”

In subsequent interviews over the years, Charlie would also say that “We can’t talk about Susan or camping,” and “We can only see Mommy if we go camping again.” Later, when questioned about a picture that he drew of his family in the car, Braden would say “Mommy’s in the trunk.”

After police searched the family home and seized the family’s van to search for evidence, Josh rented a car from the Salt Lake City International Airport; when he returned it 18 hours later, there were 807 additional miles on the odometer. To this day, no one knows where he went.

In subsequent days after Susan’s disappearance, friends and family of the Powells reported that Josh seemed completely disinterested in Susan’s case and didn’t seem to care at all whether she was found or not. Josh arrived late to one of the vigils held for Susan and then left almost immediately. Within weeks, on Friday, December 18th, 2009, Josh took Charlie and Braden back to Puyallup to stay with his father, Steve, “for the holidays.” He had also cashed out all of the couple’s accounts and intended to rent out their West Valley home.

While Josh was living with Steve (spoiler alert, they never went back to West Valley, Utah, they just kept living with Steve), Josh’s sister, Jennifer, worked with police in an attempt to get Josh on tape confessing to Susan’s murder. Jennifer always believed that Josh was the one who had caused Susan’s disappearance and went to visit him while wearing a wire. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to secure a confession from Josh, and Steve kicked her out while calling her names for not supporting her brother.

On August 24th, 2010, Josh and Steve appeared on an ABC interview where Josh was distant; Steve, on the other hand, ended up commandeering the interview when he claimed that he and Susan had had a sexual relationship. As police began investigating this claim, they found that it was half true; Steve had indeed had a sexual view of Susan, but she wanted nothing to do with him.

At the beginning of their marriage, Susan and Josh lived with Steve for a short time. Susan’s family and friends reported that she had mentioned numerous times that she thought Steve was creepy and how uncomfortable he made her. At the time that they lived with him, Steve was never without his video camera.

I bet you’re wondering what could possibly be so interesting that you’d want to be filming at all times. Well, when you’re obsessed with your daughter in law (and Steve was OBSESSED with Susan) you don’t want to miss a moment! When police were eventually able to gain access to Steve’s computers and videos that he had taken over the years, they found hours of footage of Susan, both filmed with and without her knowledge. Some videos included videos taken through cracks of barely open doors, videos underneath of bathroom doors, and videos focused on too conveniently placed mirrors that gave views into other rooms. Steve also had videos documenting things that he had stolen from Susan, including her discarded trash and clothes that Steve had taken from her room. Steve also read Susan’s journals and documented himself leafing through them as well.

Steve also wrote and recorded songs both about and dedicated to Susan (who, again, is his DAUGHTER IN LAW in case you forgot) that he uploaded to a website he created. At one point when they were left alone in a car together, Steve told Susan that he was falling in love with her. Susan told him that she wasn’t interested and that his behavior made her uncomfortable. Steve would continue this behavior until Susan and Josh moved to their house in West Valley, Utah.

As touched on briefly, police were eventually able to gain permission to raid Steve’s house once it became apparent that evidence about Susan’s disappearance may be hiding in his home. They were mainly looking for Susan’s diaries that Josh had taken with him when he left their West Valley home, but they were also able to take all of Steve’s computers and videos that he had stockpiled over the years. On his computers, police also found photos and videos he had taken of the underage girls that lived next door to Steve. He was charged with various things, including voyeurism and one count of child pornography, and was sentenced to 5 years in prison.

After it was established that Charlie and Braden were being raised in an objectively terrible environment with their obviously incredibly creepy and dangerous grandfather, Charlie and Braden were placed in state custody, and then placed with Chuck and Judy Cox, Susan’s parents, a few days later. In an effort to regain custody of his children, Josh began renting a house in Puyallup and was eventually granted supervised visitation with Charlie and Braden.

On February, 1, 2012, during Josh’s custody hearing, West Valley police revealed that in initial searches of the Powells’ West Valley home, they had found a number of disturbing things on Josh’s computer, including depictions of beastiality, incest, and simulated child pornography. As he should have been, Josh was denied custody, and was also ordered to undergo a psychosexual evaluation and polygraph in order to prove that he wasn’t a danger to his children.

Over the next four days, Josh Powell reportedly donated children’s toys to the Salvation Army, and purchased two 5 gallon gas canisters.

Chuck and Judy Cox reported that on February 5th, 2012, Charlie and Braden insisted that they didn’t want to go on the supervised visit that was scheduled for that day. Nonetheless, social worker, Elizabeth Griffin Hall, picked the children up at Chuck and Judy’s house, and took them to the house that Josh was renting for their visit. Elizabeth describes that, as children often are, the two young boys were two steps ahead of her as they ran to greet their father who was standing at a door to the house. When they ran up to him, Josh pulled the boys inside and quickly slammed the door in Elizabeth’s face, locking it immediately.

What came next is possibly one of the most absolutely INFURIATING 911 calls I’ve ever heard in my 24 years of life. There’s no way to accurately describe the absolute incompetency that you hear in this call, so I just ask that you listen to it for yourself, here.

You can also find a brief transcript of the call here.

At the end of her first nearly 7 minute long 911 call which is mostly spent with the dispatcher questioning Elizabeth about insignificant details, the dispatcher tells Elizabeth that he’ll send a deputy to her location. Elizabeth asks how long it will be and the dispatcher replies, “I don’t know, they have to respond to emergency, life threatening situations first.”

At this point, I’m absolutely SEETHING and have no words to describe how enraged this particular part of this case makes me. In case you hadn’t guessed, this was indeed an emergency, life threatening situation as Elizabeth tried her hardest to explain to this dispatcher.

Inside the locked house, Josh was murdering his two children, Charlie who was 7, and Braden who was 5. As he pulled them into the house, Elizabeth had heard him tell Charlie, “I have a surprise for you.” Not only did he murder his wife (because come on), but this sniveling, absolutely TRASH excuse for a human, saw his two little boys running up to him that day, welcomed them into his house, telling them he had a surprise for them, and then struck them each multiple times in their little heads and necks with a hatchet. When this failed to kill them, Josh poured gasoline on their bodies and all over his house, which he then lit, causing an explosion.

Elizabeth then called 911 again and ran to Josh’s neighbors trying to find someone to help her get inside to save the boys. When firefighters arrived, they were able to put out the fire and found Josh, Charlie, and Braden inside the house, all dead from smoke inhalation. Charlie and Braden’s autopsies revealed that gasoline was not only covering them, but was also in their lungs, suggesting that they had inhaled some of it as their father doused them in it prior to lighting all of them on fire.

Investigators interviewed for the 20/20 special on the case described how Josh had been backed into a corner so to speak. He was looking at not only a psychosexual evaluation, but also a polygraph test where Susan would inevitably be brought up. Charlie and Braden were getting older and more difficult to silence, especially when he had limited access to them. They suggested that Josh knew that he was at the end of the line when it came to Susan, and killing the boys was his way of destroying the remaining evidence from his crime.

It’s believed that on the night of December 6th, 2009, Josh may have poisoned Susan, which is why he made each person’s pancakes individually, and why Susan fell ill shortly after eating dinner. That night, Josh likely took the boys and Susan’s body to Simpson Springs, where he likely dumped her in an abandoned mine. At a work party in the past, Josh had reportedly told a coworker that “the best place to dispose of a body is down a mine shaft.” With over 10,000 abandoned mines in Utah, it’s nearly impossible to determine where exactly she may be.

It’s also believed that Steve most likely either had something to do with Susan’s murder, or he knew the whole story and could have lead police to her body. Steve died in a hospital in Tacoma, Washington in 2018, one year after being released from prison.

Chuck and Judy Cox were awarded $32 million in August of 2020 in a civil case that they filed against the Washington State Department of Social and Health Services for negligence that led to Charlie and Braden’s deaths at the hands of their father. They were awarded $16 million for each of the boys, which Chuck says he intends to use to honor his grandchildren, saying, “I intend to use the award to try and help other people, [so] that we can save more children.”

All in all, that’s the end of the story of Susan, Charlie, and Braden Powell. This case is one that hits me so hard because it’s so completely senseless. Josh Powell and his father were both horrible shit stains on this world, and while the world is better without them in it, they managed to take three wonderful people with them for absolutely no reason other than their own selfishness and hatred. It hurts my heart to know that Charlie and Braden died such horrible, tragic deaths at the hands of someone who was supposed to always love and protect them. It hurts my heart to know that Susan still hasn’t been found and that her family still doesn’t have closure. It hurts my heart to know that while Charlie and Braden are buried next to each other, their mother is still out there somewhere and will maybe never be returned to her boys.

I think in every case, I try to find some source of hope, or some good that may come out of it one day. I think this is one case that makes that so incredibly difficult, but I do still hold out hope that Susan may be found one day. I really, really hope that she is so that her family can finally have answers and so that they can finally lay her to rest beside her children. I hope that Chuck and Judy and the rest of Susan’s family will be able to find peace in their journey to help other children and families in Susan, Charlie, and Braden’s names. And I hope that Josh and Steve Powell burn in the epitome of the “fire and brimstone” Catholic version of Hell for the rest of eternity. If anyone deserves that, it’s those two evil fuckwads.

REFERENCES, SOURCES AND OTHER READINGS

ABC News, “Where is Susan Powell?”

KUTV, “Timeline: What we know in the years since Susan Cox Powell went missing”

ABC 20/20 on Hulu, “If Something Happens to Me…”

Crime Junkie’s Episode, “Murdered: The Powell Family”

That Chapter on Youtube, “The Case of Susan Cox Powell”

And also there’s like a million other articles and documentaries out there on this case…

[lithium-lossr]

It’s been a while since I’ve posted but mostly because after the appointments I was exhausted for days on end and all energy accumulated was spent on my toddler. Finally though, after a long nap, I have mustered enough energy weeks later to update my little tag for myself before I forget anything.

So here’s an update for myself.

Last I posted was how anxious and frustrated I was with the American healthcare System since, without insurance, 15 years of my life was depending on 30 minutes.

When I went in for that appointment I ended up only having an EKG, not the orthostatic blood pressure I expected. Which is fine, just really shitty when travel time is north of three hours, but my doctor knew their EKG prices are FAR cheaper than my areas so no worries. This appointment was 12/31/19

The nurse on the other hand was rather condescending, I thought. Maybe it’s the autism not catching tones right but i dunno. Felt off. I expressed I knew the EKG procedure since I’ve had several in the past so she didn’t need to walk me through it. She broke terms down for me and I also explained she had no need since I have a strong history in human anatomy but also have had several friends & my own sister being nurses. TYPICALLY I have nurses feel relieved or kinda happy after explaining I don’t need them to baby step me. Normally allowing that knowledge be known opens to some great convos that don’t involved every single step they’re taking. I felt some of her finishing comments about me being a “good little ekg taker since I’ve had so many” basically felt invalidating. I’m sorry I didn’t have you explain the whole process out to me like I’m a newbie. That you didn’t have to remind me 100 times to stop moving or talking. Maybe THATS why you fucked up the wire order and put my calves on my arms & messed up the chest one with another. Because you didn’t talk yourself through it. But hey, who knows. I don’t.

Anyways,

My EKG came back and it showed enough for us to set up and orthostatic bp appointment.

I was unable to find the EKG Results on the portal but I’ve requested them and will be adding them to my tag to keep track of all this.

For my orthostatic bp appointment I thankfully had a much nicer nurse. She had me lay down and did me up with a cuff and finger pulse oximeter. My oxygen was 99% (not to brag or anything *debbie Ryan hair pushback meme* but it’s Rona SZN bb)

I just focused straight up & ahead. Throughout the whole lay, sit, stand transition she asked me questions on how I felt. Just like any day my symptoms were strong and immediately on sitting up my chest felt sharp and tight. Slightly light on my top half. More I had to support myself the worse I felt. Started to realize how much I support myself with walls, chairs, bars, anything to keep me from having to hold my own weight because this sucked. When I stood my heart kept hurting and my body felt light. My legs felt like they were literally draining. Like I honestly feel like I’m in some sort of Stephen King movie with how it felt the blood fall. Feet felt heavy.

The poor nurse sounded so concerned. Several times she asked if I was going to pass out and if I needed to sit then sit but I won’t lie. If it took me passing out I was prepared to because I’m SO TIRED of this debilitating BULLSHIT.

To give better context on results I’m about to drop (to anyone who actually might be reading this and care) on my orthostatic bp I am:

-24 years

-114 lbs (51.7kg)

- 5’7” (170cm)

My results (copy and pasted from the portal)

Orthostatic BP -

123 / 78 supine R arm adult cmchale1 01-12-2021

127 / 95 sitting R arm adult Abnormal cmchale1 01-12-2021

134 / 91 standing R arm adult Abnormal cmchale1 01-12-2021

Conclusion came to yes, it is POTS-

“Dr. R______ has reviewed your nurse visit and states: Her symptoms and vital signs are highly suggestive of POTS, or postural tachycardia syndrome. There are a variety of reasons this can happen, but the most common demographic is young, thin females. Often, nonpharmacologic treatments can be very effective. Specifically, high salt diet, aggressive fluids, and a daily exercise program with cardiovascular training (e.g. interval jogging - let me know if she needs more specifics). Also, doing things to increase venous return (squeezing the leg muscles a couple times) before standing up can be helpful. Sometimes, a beta-blocker like propranolol can be used as needed to help with high heart rates, but should only be used in the context of the behavioral strategies. I'm happy to send some in, if she doesn't get enough relief with the behavioral approaches! Let us know if you have further questions.”

Since dealing with this so long most of these things have already been in place. I’m a r/hydrohomie and even recently updated my bottle to a half gallon hydroJug since my quart was just useless. Always ALWAYS empty. I have a relatively salty diet but will be getting supplements to boost, I just don’t really know what to look at for SALT/sodium tablets. Like, the thought of them existing never crossed my mind until I read about sodium intake. As for working out I won’t lie, I chase a toddler (16m) around all day so I definitely TRY to get a nice workout in but I’m exhausted after them. In Maine we are below freezing temperatures and inside just don’t have much room so I try to hoop or do some palates or something to get my muscles working. I used to be such an avid walker when I lived in town. Even in the winter I’d just walk to the store. But now the closest store is 5 miles away on a busy road in tourist/farm land so needless today it’s isolating for someone who doesn’t drive. Even when the weather is nice I never NEVER HAD TO DEAL WITH T I C K S. Northern Maine doesn’t deal with that. I saw my first tick at 19 years old 50 miles from my hometown. So not even something I had to worry about hiking in the woods up north. But HERE. PEOPLE KEEP A COLLECTION TO SEE HOW MANY THE CATCH EXCUSE ME.

Ugh that’s a tangent and a half but 🤢🤮 ticks

Little fucking paracites.

As for the medication, I’m glad that wasn’t the first thing she pushed on me. I LOVE having a D.O. over an M.D. Idc. If I have a choice I will pick a D.O. EVEYTIME. My goal is to eventually be off all pharms, even if right now it’s only Zoloft. After I stop breastfeeding I’m to add lithium back at a low dose and that’s just so much maintenance. Labs, med management, MORE refills. Adjustments. Sigh.

Adding also for anyone who does actuall read. I KNOW a cardiologist is who can properly diagnose me and help me more effectively than a D.O PCP. My pcp is literally just worried about my heart and that it was ignored so long. She also knows I have no private insurance and her office doesn’t take state. She’s worked with me in the most amazing ways to get me the best care for the CHEAPEST.

Her original plan was to have a holter monitor for 24hrs & ekg and go from there. I wasn’t able to get a holter to rent so unfortunately we had to relay on my Fitbit but I also got an finger pulse oximeter to track my symptoms especially when I felt them. I was suggest to also get a BP cuff but baby steps. I plan on ordering an electric arm bp when I can.

I had my EKG which clearly showed a need for a Ortho BP.

My overall plan was at LEAST get it addressed and in my records for when I eventually DO have to change PCPs for what ever insurance I can scramble up. That way my new pcp can see and maybe I can get in with a real cardiologist.

I’m just so damn grateful that my doctor listen to me. I love receptive doctors. Thank you Dr. R for being a Queen and not ignoring how I have to live and feel based on the words “I pass out randomly.” You gave your thoughts, I CHALLENGED them and you listened. Thank you. Thank you for not having a fragile ego and working on this together.

[not-another-imagine-blog]

Lifeline (Connor McDavid)

Anonymous said:

Can u do a Connor mcdavid imagine where he finds out the reader cut herself??? And can u make it really angsty and fluffy??

Word count: 1481

Author’s note: I struggled for a while when I got this request. On one hand, I want everyone to get the imagine that they’ve so patiently waited for. On another hand, however, this is a very difficult topic for me. As someone with a mental illness who is still battling suicidal thoughts, I was worried that it would be too difficult for me to write. In a way, though, it was cathartic for me to be able to pour my feelings into this imagine. I just want you readers who might be going through a similar situation to know that you are not alone. There is a light. Recovery is not linear, however much we want it to be. Please, if you are experiencing these things, reach out to someone, even if it’s to me. I’m always here. 

WARNINGS: SELF-HARM, DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS (THESE WILL ALL BE UNDER THE READ MORE).

Depression and anxiety were not new for you. You had been dealing with mental illness since your early teens, which meant that you had a lot of time to learn how to hide it. No one, not even Connor, knew about your secret. You were lucky, though; ‘it’ hadn’t been nearly as prevalent as it had during high school. With medication and therapy, you’ve been able to live your life without your demons clawing at your mind.

The thing about mental illness is that, just like any other chronic illness, it can strike at a moment’s notice. Your bad days started to become more and more frequent. You knew the signs, but you still chose to ignore that you were getting worse. The oversleeping, the lack of appetite and interest in doing things, the panic attacks and the nervous leg jiggling and the overthinking every single little thing. Talking to someone is the first step to getting the help that you need, but you’re too ashamed of the fact that you can’t handle it on your own to tell someone. Instead of seeking someone who you trust or using your coping skills, you choose to cope with something that you never thought you would do again.

You drag the razor blade across your skin, sighing in relief as the dark red blood wells onto the surface. You’ve been cutting yourself everyday for the past week, finding no better way to channel the pain that you’re feeling than by ruining your beautiful skin.

The last time you had done this, you were a junior in high school. You had forgotten to lock the bathroom door when you got home from school, in a hurry to release your feelings. Your younger sister had burst in, needing to grab a tampon before she headed out with her friends. You remembered that day like it was yesterday: The razor clattering into the tub, droplets of blood staining the floor as she shrieked at the top of her lungs. Your widened eyes, your mother’s sobs, the days of medication consults, psychoanalysis’ and therapist appointments…

You shake the thoughts from your head, making sure to dab the blood away with a tissue so as not to stain any towels. The scars from all those years ago were completely gone, leaving a new canvas for you to do with what you pleased.

Your phone rings, startling you. You don’t even need to look at the screen to know that it’s Connor, since he’s the only one who ever calls you.

“Hey.” You answer, tucking the phone in between your shoulder and ear so you can continue with your activity.

“Hey babe! Practice got done early. Do you want to take a walk with me today? It’s a gorgeous day out.” Connor knew that you hadn’t been feeling well, but he assumed that you were just sick.

“I don’t know Con. I kind of just want to take a nap, y’know?” You can almost hear Connor’s sigh before he even takes a breath.

“I’m worried about you, (Y/N). Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Everything’s fine! I’ve just been tired lately!” You let out a fake laugh. “Fine, I’ll go on a walk with you.”

“That’s good, because I’m already at your apartment.” A smile slips onto your face.

“I’ll be down in a minute. I love you.” You hang up the phone and hastily make your last few cuts until you feel ready to go downstairs and face the world. You pull a light blue cardigan on over your t-shirt, rushing out the door to go and meet Connor.

Connor, even though he doesn’t know exactly what is going on with you, sure knows how to make you feel better. You enjoy walking through the streets of Edmonton with him, taking in the fresh air and feeling peace for the first time in a while. You’re enjoying yourself so much that, when Connor asks if he can come up to your apartment, you don’t hesitate to lead him up.

Your apartment is dark and dusty, the result of being too drained to do any cleaning and not wanting to see any sunlight. You rush in ahead of Connor, throwing open the curtains and trying to make it look like you’ve actually ventured out of your bedroom in the past 72 hours. Connor wrinkles his nose upon stepping through the threshold, obviously wondering which tornado recently swept through.

“I’ve been working crazy hours lately, I’ve been too tired to clean.” You explain lamely, praying that he buys it. Connor bites his lip before slowly nodding, your way of knowing that he’s not going to let this go.

“I’m gonna use your bathroom real quick, wanna get a movie started?” You nod, sitting down on the couch to scroll through Netflix.

When the bathroom door bangs open, you’re sure that Connor saw something on his phone that he wants to show you; this sort of expression only happens when he’s excited or really angry, and he doesn’t exactly have anything to be angry about. You look up, your face immediately paling as you stare at the bloodied tissues and razor blade that, in your haste, you forgot to clean up.

“What the hell is this, (Y/N)?” Connor asks through clenched teeth. He’s so angry that he’s calm, which terrifies you.

“Oh, I, um, I was trying to shave and I cut myself, so I was cleaning out the razor when you called.” It’s a dumb excuse and you both know it as you slowly stand, advancing towards Connor.

“Let me see your wrists.”

“No! I’m not doing anything wrong!”

“If you weren’t doing anything wrong then you would show me. Let me see your wrists, god dammit!” Connor never swears at you. You slowly roll up your sleeves, trying to stall. Connor snatches your wrist and rolls your sleeve up for you, repeating the action on your other arm. You hiss in pain as the rough fabric scrapes over the fresh cuts. Connor holds your wrists in his hands, staring down at the myriad of scars riddling your arms, all in varying stages of healing.

“It’s not what it looks like…” You say quietly. Connor drops to his knees, absolutely speechless, your wrists hanging loosely in his grasp.

“Why, (Y/N)? Why would you do this?” You go onto your knees too, stroking Connor’s face.

“It’s so difficult to explain.” You start.

“Well you better fucking try.” You both sit in silence for what feels like hours.

“I’ve had depression and anxiety for almost six years.” You start. “When I was in high school, I refused to seek help. I was scared and didn’t know why I was feeling the way that I was feeling. So, as a way to cope with all of this pain, I started cutting. Soon enough it became my lifeline. I would look forward to the moment when I could lock myself in the bathroom and grab my razor blade from out of my makeup bag.

“After six months, I still didn’t have any clue what was wrong with me. When you’re mentally ill, you start to think terrible, horrible things. I was in so much pain that I eventually became suicidal, trying to come up with this way out. One day, my sister caught me in the act and I got help. I went to a therapist and I got put on medication. I started feeling better and figured that, as long as I kept up with this regimen, I wouldn’t go into that place again?”

“Are you not on medication anymore?” Connor asks quietly.

“I still am, and I see my therapist every other week, which makes this whole situation worse. As I started going into this hole again, I wanted to know why I was suddenly worse again even though I’m doing everything right.”

“You mentioned that you were suicidal before you got diagnosed. Are you suicidal again?” You avoid eye contact and stay silent, giving Connor the answer that he needs. He shoots up and turns away, angrily running his hands through his hair. “Jesus Christ, (Y/N). Why? Is it...Have I...?” His voice is thick with tears as you push yourself onto your feet, shaking your head furiously.

“Don’t you ever think that you’re the reason that I’m like this, Connor. It is nothing that you’ve done. You’re fantastic to me, okay? It’s my brain. There is something wrong with my wiring, and I don’t know what, and I’m scared. I’m so, so scared.” You confess, tears rolling down your cheeks as Connor envelops you in his arms.

“Shhh. We’re gonna figure this out. I’m not gonna let this steal you from me.” You and Connor stand embraced in the middle of your living room, both crying openly as you both realize that you, eventually, will be okay.

[theatricalsorrow]

The Bang (part 1 of 4)

An original short story by me

With a Chai Tea in my hand, I exit the Tree Spirits coffee and tea shop. The friendly, tucked away store has always been my first stop every morning before my first college classes. Without my Green and Chai teas, I probably wouldn’t even get out of bed in the brisk city’s mornings. I tug my backpack’s strap up high on my shoulder and take a sip of the sugary drink.  The warmth that spreads through my veins feels fantastic during fall. A smile spreads my lips as I hop over a small crack in the pavement and people rush past me. This was home.

The hustle and bustle of the streets doesn’t really bother me, even when I was little it didn’t. I tried once to live in the countryside, but the stillness that surrounded me out there was more unnerving than relaxing.  Born and raised a city boy I welcome the screech of tires on the streets and the honk of horns in traffic. It all becomes the daily background noise to whatever I’m doing. Today, I hear sirens. The loud whooping of the police cars in chase catch my attention due to how close they are. I turn my head to look down the street for the source,  but the action must be going on around the corner. I’m not sure what urges me to follow the racket, but curiosity has always been a strong part of my personality.  Taking up a light jog, I weave through the masses of people and reach the end of the block. Just, as I stand on tiptoes to peer over the heads of the crowd, I loud bang sounds out. Blinding white light sears my retina’s and heat washes over me in a heavy wave. I can hear the the screams of panic from those near me only for a few seconds, before I lose consciousness. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

My ears are ringing as if old church bells have replaced the brain inside of my skull. The ground beneath my prone body is uneven, hard jagged shapes jutting upwards to contort my limbs. Slowly, I peel my eyes oven, wincing at the pain the light brings. My chest and stomach tighten, and bile rises in my throat. Forcing my body upright with push off from my arms, I get to my knees before I throw- up the contents of my stomach; apparently, all that is in there is my stomach acid. With shaking hands, I reach up and pull my ginger hair away from my eyes. I can feel the grime and dust woven into the curly strands before I can, once again, see. Then, I suck in a harsh breath through my burning esophagus at the mess that surrounds me. Through the coughing fit that follows, I scan the crumbled remains of  buildings. I myself am a top a pile of rubble with shards of glass, rusty nails, and stripped wires scattered about. My entire body aches. As I attempt to stand, my legs wobble as if the bones are about to snap in two. My arms are jello; even as wave them back and forth, they have this hollow throbbing inside of them. I take a single step and nearly fall face first into large, ragged edged, chunk of concrete. I cannot even begin to express how relieved  I am to not have my eyes gouged out, or to have my whole face broken. As I steady myself, I finally notice the one thing that is the most out of place. It’s not the crumpled buildings,  the shattered windows, or even the cracked pavement that makes up what's left of the streets. It’s not any part of what I can see, or the musty and dry smell that lingers in the air; it’s what I can hear. There is  nothing but wind. That is wrong on more than one level. A heavy shudder runs down my spine, nearly knocking me off my feet again. My fingers start to twitch restlessly by my side, and my shoulder spasms for a second.  Where is the noise? My gut twists again and I retch and heave for a moment, nothing coming up, before I collapse to my hands and knees. That’s when I make my first sound beyond that of throwing up, a mangled cry of pain, and discover just how dusty and strained my vocal cords are. My right hand is covered in blood when I hold it up; a deep gash has been gouged into the palm by a torn sheet of metal.

Where am I? What happened to the city? How much time has passed? Why is there no noise? Am I all alone here?

These questions race through my mind as I watch scarlet slide down my wrist and drip onto the concrete slab beneath me. Drip... drip...drip... Red on red on grey.

Why am I doing nothing?

This questions send me to my unsteady feet, and I nearly fall over again. “I’ve got to find somebody,” I rasp. My voice is far too loud in my empty ears. It takes a while to pick my way down the hill of rubble I had woken up on, as it is unstable and littered with trip hazards. Also, about halfway down I have to stop to bandage my wound with the scarf I had been wearing before being knocked out. Upon reaching the street, I take a moment to catch my breath before I take in my surroundings once more. The buildings loom far overhead, their foundations either crumbled or threatening to; broken glass was literally everywhere, creating a dangerous walk for anyone without strong shoes on. Fortunately, I am wearing my winter boots, as it had been cold on my.... On my way to class... Another wave of questions slams into my brain, paralyzing me for a moment, but there is no answer to the repeating word in my head.

WHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHERE????

I can’t breath, my heart and lungs have constricted, and it takes all of my will power not to fall into the glass splayed underneath my feet. My head aches, and my stomach is sick, and my eyes sting with tears. My body starts to tremble, and I try and cross my arms to hold it in. A nervous laugh bubbles up in my throat, and suddenly it’s out in the air, bouncing off the buildings so sharply it comes back to pierce my ears.  I stop immediately. My whole body is frozen as listen to the sounds of my crazed outburst echo and fade; its the only sound until it isn’t. My blood runs cold at the INHUMAN noise that follows mine, some kind of  wail or high pitched shriek mixed with a howl of pain... or maybe...bloodlust. Fear quickens my heart; my brains goes on autopilot. I’m in my city, but at the same time I’m not. This place is foreign to me, but my mind knows what I need to do. I take off running if what I hope is the opposite way of where that god awful scream had come from.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

I can’t think straight. The glass crunching underneath my boots, the dust that hovers in the air starting to coat my lungs, the beam that I almost hit head on; they all are afterthoughts to the word RUN flashing behind my eyes on a neon sign. Something is following me. I can hear it dashing over the broken streets.

IT’S NOT HUMAN. IT’S NOT A FUCKING HUMAN.

My mind is screaming this as it processes the speed at which the THING is moving, and how it can’t be moving on two legs. I want to look back, but I don’t. I used to watch horror movies for fun, but feeling like you're in one is terrifying. So I tell myself if I look back I’ll die. Maybe I should have been a watching the ground instead. There’s a beeping noise as I sprint through the opening in a chain link fence. I barely process it before I’m thrown violently by an explosion behind me. My cry of pain and surprise is lost in boom, and the screech of the thing that was following me. I land on my back. What little air that was in my lung is knocked out by the hard come down. I skid across the glass and tar a few feet  and come to a stop in the middle of the street. I’m not dead, but I now wish I was. My arms are bleeding from the glass embedded in them. I can’t feel my right leg below my knee; there’s just an agonizing pain that is spidering out from whatever injury is down there. The sky looks red and grey... I wonder if it had been cloudy since I woke up. My visions tunneling, my head is spinning with dizziness. I can feel myself sitting up, but I don't feel like I’m controlling my body anymore. An unfamiliar scent seeps through my unfocused senses... I know it at the same time through... two words float past my eyes. Burnt flesh. I register faintly, that there are body parts scatter across the ground. A smattering of scarlet and blue decorate the fence, and the concrete. My head feels heavier; I drop back onto my elbows.

My leg? Where is it? Wait, why am I asking that? It’s right-

A cough rattles through my chest, and then blood is dribbling out from between my lips. “The fuck?!” A human voice, but they sound like they’re so far away....”HEY, KID!!!” Breathing is really easy right now. “Oh fuck, he’s injured bad. We gotta get him......  stupid idiot.... didn’t.....  mines... ” I’m warm all over, and I feel safe. Maybe I could just take a nap....

[riaa-isabel]

After Scarlett’s grand escape from NICU, she and I didn’t immediately go home. Home for us is actually 2 hours away in Andrews, Tx.  So going “home” for Scarlett meant an extended stay at Grandma Sylvia’s and Popo’s house (my mom & her boyfriend). 

Both of whom we are so incredibly thankful for, for opening up their home to us following Scarlett’s hospital stay. I honestly can’t say enough how much their help meant to us during this transitional period. 

Our reasons for sticking around longer are not as crazy as you might think. BJ & I made decisions that were best for our family at the time. While we would have loved nothing more than to take our sweet, tiny warrior home; it was better if she and I stayed close to her doctors for a little while. Following her release from NICU she would have several specialists she would need to follow-up with (within the first month alone). Cutting out traveling time, not only helped us financially but also gave this mama a peace-of-mind staying close to doctors who were already familiar with her medical history.  Not to forget to mention that Scarlett came home on supplemental oxygen support! All of which was something I wanted to be completely comfortable using, before taking any extended road-trips.

The Oxygen tanks & Pulse Ox Machine

The answer to the million-dollar question: Why did we choose to follow up with doctors in Lubbock, rather than Midland/Odessa which are a lot closer to us?

For starters. Because we wanted to. Our kid, Our choice lol.

But for real, because I was scared. I was a first-time mom, with a fragile baby, who had already overcome SO many obstacles. Having a choice between going to doctors in an area I’m not 100% familiar with. Verses seeing doctors in the area where my daughter was born, and we already knew.. I mean… It wasn’t really a choice – at least not in my eyes. We also have most ALL of our family in Lubbock. It’s where BJ & I were born and raised. So having that familial support and being so close, allowed the opportunity for our family to enjoy time with Scarlett. That was something we really wanted for her, especially during that time.

Grandma Sylvia

Finding balance isn’t; easy and can be very taxing. I know it took us time to find ours (and we’re still working on it lol). We found that by following the NICU schedule the first few days at home made the transition a lot easier on Scarlett. The absence of machines beeping and people coming and going made home eerily quiet for her. Thankfully the sounds from her oxygen machine created white noise which helped her sleep. I eventually started changing the routine a little at a time in order to make it our own and what worked for us.

That first couple of days home were both a challenge and a blessing. While I no longer had the helping hands of 100 NICU nurses, I was able to take care of Scarlett all by myself. I had been looking forward to days like these. That’s not to say I didn’t have my worries. But thanks to the wonderful UMC NICU staff, I had been well “trained” on what to do in case things got a little hairy.

The days were fairly smooth and easy…when she slept, I slept – We slept. 😉 Jk. I had a “newborn” on my hands – I wasn’t getting any sleep! lol Like any other mom, I spent most of my time changing diapers, prepping bottles, feeding, and washing bottles. Change. Feed. Wash. Repeat. You get the idea. My mom and Luis (a.k.a Popo) were almost always at work, so most days we had the house to ourselves. Visitors were far and few between. We were still in Flu/RSV season and everyone respected our boundaries. Healthy = a visit & Scarlett snuggles.  Unhealthy = Love us from a distance.

When our families would visit I would get a “break” and was able to shower and feed myself lol. Which was AWESOME! You don’t realize how amazing those things are until you wind up skipping a few meals and start to smell like baby poop. They are such a godsend! They stepped up and learned Scarlett’s routine in order to alleviate some of the work Scarlett required lol. I’ve said it a thousand times and I’ll say it a million times more. OUR VILLAGE ROCKS! Seriously.

Laura stealing Scarlett cuddles so Mom could “nap” (aka clean lol)

Tia Stephanie & Tia Mo helping with the nighttime routine

Night times were a little more challenging. BJ would continue to travel back and forth from Andrews to Lubbock, which meant I was something like a single mom. (Kudos to ALL of you full-time single parents. Raising a small human on your own ain’t easy!)  On the weekends, we would take turns getting up with Scarlett during the night which worked out…for the most part. However, two grown adults sharing a twin bed wasn’t exactly comfortable…so neither one of us was getting much sleep. Yet, somehow, we managed. At the time, I think BJ & I were in “survival mode” and just did what we had to do to make things work. We didn’t take a single thing for granted. After all, we had already been blessed beyond measure. Scarlett slept in a pack’n’play that was given to us by our dear friend Shannon. Which made things SO much easier! With Scarlett on oxygen support, she would constantly need her pulse ox monitor on. The pack’n’play made it THAT much easier for us to pick her up/move her without having to thread or untangle all of her wirings. I highly recommend using one of these for your own little one in the beginning.

  Her first post NICU appointment would be with her pediatrician, two weeks after her release. That day was one of my most anxious days of all.

From our Facebook Group 1 1/2 years ago. 

I took Scarlett to her first appointment today; and I’ll be honest with you – I was really nervous about it. Just like any first time mom, I felt all of the anxiousness you feel when it’s time to take your new baby on their first outing. I had all of these questions and worries flooding my mind. What time should I leave? Will we be there on time? Am I going to the right place? Do I have enough diapers? Do I need to pack extra clothes? And the list goes on and on and on…

And then on top of all of THAT, I felt the nervousness new moms, of a preemie, feel and all of THOSE worries and questions that come to mind. How am I going to carry Scarlett AND all of her equipment? Will I need to take all of her medicines with me? Do I give her medicines now or wait until after the appointment? What if the battery goes out on her monitor? What if her tubing gets snagged somewhere and I don’t know how to fix it? And on and on and on…

Needless to say – I was one very anxious and overwhelmed mess of a momma this morning. (And don’t get my started on how my night went, especially, with our little rain storm)

I made a plan. I had a list. I tried my best to be prepared.

So I when woke Scarlett up this morning to start our morning routine, (change diaper, feed Scarlett, give Scarlett her breathing treatment…) God surprised me and put my worries at ease. I walked past my moms room, like I have every morning since we came home, and instead of it being empty, my mom was in her bed. She was waiting for me to wake her up so she could help and go with us today.

We went to her appointment and it was great! We got there okay, and after a little adventure (called being lost), with some help we found our way. I met with Scarlett’s pediatrician – she’s nice, I REALLY like her. But she gave me a lot of information and in the end I felt overwhelmed yet again. I forget that even though Scarlett is out of the hospital, she still has a ways to go before she is caught up with other babies her age. There are things that I as her mother have to do to help her get there. So when we came home I was kind of feeling down in dumps. I just felt worried all over again because I want to make sure Scarlett is taken care of and that I am doing the best that I can for her.

I don’t know about you, but to me that’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself – but I tend to do that sometimes. I have worried so much about Scarlett, her health and wanting to do what is best for her. That I sometimes forget to stop and ask God to help me. I forget to ask him to take these worries from me. When I opened my bible app today, I was searching for a new devotional to follow and I saw my favorite bible verse. Isaiah 40:31 And in that moment I felt an instant relief. I laughed at myself; because in all of my worrying, even though I forgot to ask for Gods help, he saw what I needed and he provided for me – like he always has. He never ceases to remind me of his constant love.

1st Doctors Appointment

I know this new season of life will challenge me again. Now that Scarlett is home there are new obstacles to face and overcome. But only by Gods grace and love will we be able to get through it. We just have to take things one day at a time and remember to pray.

So with all of that being said – Scarlett is 8lbs 9oz and 20.5in long! She’ll have a weight check appointment next week. We will see her pediatrician every 2 weeks (until we decide otherwise) and She has an eye appointment on Friday. Please pray that we get good results like we have been.

Thank you all for your love. And I hope this helped you in some way. If you are struggling with something or just needed a reminder of Gods love. Know that he is always ready and waiting.

“…the Lord must wait for you to come to him so he can show you his love and compassion. The Lord is a faithful God…” – Isaiah 30:18

 Looking back at this I can’t help but be PROUD of myself for being strong and BRAVE enough to talk about my feelings. It’s scary to open up and be 100% honest with not just yourself but the world! 

While life after NICU was ANYTHING but normal and easy, I am so grateful that God provided for us time and time again. It’s hard being a new parent and learning to take care of someone else. But it’s just a “tad” bit harder when your child requires a lot of special attention. Yes, we are blessed that SO MANY things went RIGHT for Scarlett. But that doesn’t mean our struggles weren’t real. I’m still dealing with my PTSD and taking things one day at a time. But if sharing our story will help any of you other NICU parents, I am so happy about that!

I hope that you can learn to find balance too and always know that no matter how hard the struggle is, you are NEVER alone.

  Epilogue: Balancing Act – Life after NICU After Scarlett's grand escape from NICU, she and I didn’t immediately go home. Home for us is actually 2 hours away in Andrews, Tx.

[citizenlau-blog]

The holidays can bring great joy as well as sorrow concerning family matters. Memories of lost loved ones, bitter arguments, drunken mishaps, off-color jokes, controversial conversations, overstuffed bellies, and food comas create that Thanksgiving cocktail of a tradition that most experience on a yearly basis. I generally do not drink and simply partake in the food and napping luxuries around this time. Creativity and hobbies that have taken a backseat to office life might also revive themselves during the long weekend.

My sister is in town visiting her in-laws. I thank God that there is peace between my sister and I, the one immediate family member who seems untouched by the brokenness in our family. From the time of conception, my mother was told she would be glad, that this third child would make her laugh. Turns out that she is the laugh of everyone's party. As the baby of the family, she is endowed with an easy-going, carefree disposition. I, as the first born, was given the opposite. Tightly wound, sharp-minded, sensitive, and cautionary, the wiring of the first child is stereotypically more uptight than the siblings that come after. I am clearly not an exception, but an upstanding example of this rule.

While I did not know what was in store for me this Thanksgiving, I left it up to God for the most part. Being of service in some way appeals greatly to me; and that will have to be on my list in the future. In the spirit of recovery, discovery, appreciation, and contentment, I am finding ways to give thanks for a million little things. The phrase, "Gratitude creates Joy," is so true. I find that if I am able to identify at a micro-level what I am thankful for, I find that I have nothing to complain about.

Aside from subjects of current politics and broken family issues, I have everything I need. I noticed at work today, some of my co-workers feelings -- sadness, anger, insecurity, need for approval. Since these are coworkers of the male species, I refrained from exposing to them my empathic knowledge and kept it to myself. The ego is a very sensitive thing, and I am learning how to apply the appropriateness of sharing such knowledge and when to stay silent. This one particular co-worker's feelings were made so obvious to me, I almost thought they were my feelings.

This mix-up of feelings was probably the cause of much consternation as an infant. Lacking the discernment but gifted with empathy, my first-time parents could not figure me out. For God's sake, and I say that very sincerely, I could not figure me out until my late twenties. Thank God, I have finally taken the time to sort this out over the last fifteen years or so. Is it prophetic knowledge through empathy? Maybe. I know that God uses it to show me who to pray for. I know that when I was not following God, I distracted myself with all kinds of activities, wholesome and un-wholesome, to dull the information I was receiving.

I have felt all kinds of spirits, emotions, pains, and precognition of potential events. Did I want to pick up on this information? Not really. It was a constant flow that never ended and still does not. I believe that is why I often find solace by myself where I can sort through the morass of daily information I receive, organize it, label it, and then ask God what to do with it. The other day, at a Starbucks near work, I picked up on depression, sickness, and despair. It was awful. I wanted to run. But I didn't. I stayed put, waited in a long line, ordered a drink, and prayed.

Maybe it is that God wants validation from his creatures concerning how He knows about our sorrows. Maybe that is why God creates empaths. I have reached out to a few people about the information given to me, and most of the time, even when I reached out in love, they felt that I had invaded their privacy or flat out denied it because it was too true. So the wisdom here is to stay quiet and recognize that these are not my feelings but other people's feelings. The discernment and separation of massive knot loads of feelings is an accomplishment in itself, and I congratulate myself on this because it took years of hard painstaking work!

The feedback that I had received from people who had gotten to know me is that I am inherently a healer. This is not surprising. My grandmother was a healer in a village in China, and my father has a gift of healing that he teaches to people around the world. In the Western world, healers are not respected in terms of the culture and economy that is setup to support doctors, pharmacies, and pills. Even naturopathic doctors are on the hit list as they are being assassinated daily. In Eastern cultures, healers are much more respected and the economy supports that.

For adaptive purposes, I only use my healing knowledge and gifts on myself unless someone asks. It is not something to advertise or boast about, because honestly, I do not want to be assassinated. Let the Western world have it their way while I live my life peacefully in harmony with the surrounding environment. The more I realize how the Western world is built on the love of money, the more I witness the corresponding misery attached to it. Our current president is an extremely wealthy man. But he does not have peace, joy, or contentment. While I did not know the previous president very well (Barack Obama), I can testify to what I observed over the eight years in office. His countenance was always calm and peaceful, and he smiled a lot.

Yes, I know my writings about politics makes some people's toe bunions burn with shame, but alas, this is reality. No one is perfect, but the comparisons show whose appearance had more peace and joy on his face. Facts do not lie. Look at the video footage. Sometimes, looking back can give us a sense of peace. As I watch videos about President Obama, I smile and am relieved about the fact that at one time, we had a president who presented himself graciously, humorously, tactfully, and honorably. Hearing President Obama's voice, speech, diction, grammar, and personality was something I did not appreciate quite as much as I do now. You never know what you had until it's gone. And that is gratitude for one more thing--a president that I can be proud of.

THANK YOU FOR READING! Feel free to follow me on FB :), Cheers.

[redlemonz]

Day #26

Slept in for a bit today after marathoning that new Marvel show last night and finishing it. Certainly the only sort of marathon I could sadly participate in and accomplish. Nonetheless, it was a superb (ba-dum-tsh) show anyway, and especially really great when it came to enlightening me with some fictional false hope for my own life. I wasn't use to the fact that I was awake into such late hours of the night without her presence either, because it's the only usual time I would generally be. The loneliness burned stronger within me as a result.. I can't help but always feel so incomplete. I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating, as my brother in law was ringing me to ask if I could come over to hang out with the nieces because they have some stuff to attend to, and he's still recovering from a recent surgical operation so is unable to actually be involved in many activities at all. Of course I was happy to drive over and spend time with the cute little ones, and well, I have nothing else to do anyway. I've already disbanded myself away from my friends after all, and haven't really heard from people. A part of me was still reluctant to go over though, because I didn't feel as stable during this late morning - it's one of those days where I miss her so damn much, more so than usual, that I couldn't help but withdraw a stream of tears which melded into the waters pouring out from the shower yet again. I keep thinking about how unfair and silly this all is, that we shouldn't even be apart when it comes down to the wire, that it's so easy to make this work now - but that's not my decision to make in the end. The damage has already been done in her eyes and is irreversible. Honestly speaking, I actually broke down quite a bit this morning, internally and externally, so I was a bit afraid as to the atmosphere my presence among my nieces would offer. But no - of course I'd temporarily shove all that into a separate corner of my head, even if my heart still bleeds, because I still gotta fulfil my duties to be the best uncle ever. Especially because I may not be able to fulfil my dream to be the best father I can some day. And so I did - I got riddled with hugs, cuddles and kisses from the younger ones which made it all pretty worthwhile. As nap time arose for the two little ones, I tweaked the definition of fun for the seven year old, as I spent nearly a couple hours teaching her some basic mathematics instead. Why in the hell would I voluntarily propose to even do that? Because I know she has the capability and interest to actually learn, and I'm not gonna waste it by poisoning her mind with Pokémon all the time (even though I've probably done it enough). She's smart, yet humble, and I want to help guide her from the sidelines into being the best her she can. So I'm not ashamed to admit that I actually enjoyed the feeling of teaching her the usefulness of decimals, fractions and percentages as they would apply in real life situations - especially when it comes down to knowing whether you're getting your fair share of cake and pizza. Day 26 - Holding my own hand Thunder. Another wonderful afternoon filled with the raging echoes of the skies, that soothe my soul and resonates a sense of balance within me. It's my only real friend that understands me during these troubling times, and it's ironically quite pleasant for it to come visiting two weekends in a row now, in the absence of my best friend being with me anymore. Reality knocked me down even harder than usual today actually, as on my way back home I had to take a detour and pick up some medicine from a specific pharmacy in a certain area. The familiarity of the streets and route sunk me, as on literally any other occasion I'm use to driving in this area, It would mean visiting her or picking her up. Knowing that her house was right there just brought back all the memories, which even though initially resulted in a smile, also felt somewhat tarnished by my current circumstances and ability to ruin that timeline from continuing. From the roads, the shops, and the best Thai takeaways to the nearby basin at which we'd walk bbt together, and the park in which she'd introduce me to my very first flying fox experience (yes, I didn't have the same sort of childhood experiences gosh) under the stars at night, it all started hitting me. I relived all the occasions in which I had spent and even unofficially lived several days at a time in that house with her, and it now just felt like shit knowing that it'll never be the same again. I've been cast out of that life of happiness I had, and her gate will permanently remain shut for me now. I miss it all so much, and I keep imploring to wake up from this damned nightmare that I've brought upon myself. I do have to admit (again) that I'm so fucking sick of myself, especially the constant whining and self-pitying that I know I don't deserve, but I can't help or control any of it. It's the most sane part of my insanity that keeps me going, and provides me with the visibility to eventually cross that bridge. I'm still waiting for the shock to wear off too, which is kind of even more troubling and frightening, considering it's now 26 days later. This all regularly just feels like one massive mistake or misunderstanding that shouldn't have ended the way it did, and I keep hating it and myself more and more each day, knowing that I led it to this very conclusion. In the spirit of punishing myself further, I've decided to rewatch one of my favourite analytical films, Ruby Sparks, which I know I've mentioned before. It's satisfying within this thunderous weather to receive another encore in this on-going barrage of internal pain, as I can gain a decent glimpse of understanding and reflection upon the sort of evil that I am. The unrealistic happy ending of this damned movie where he is blessed with another, undeserving chance after all his fuck ups will truly hurt me even more - and I want it to, which is why I march into this world with full knowledge of the suffering I'll be deservingly dishing out to myself, because I despise me. Moments after hating myself through rewatching that movie (probably isn't worth the details any longer), I walked outside in an attempt to view the stars, though it was a bit of a cloudier night. I thought about all the moments in which we'd laid upon the beaches and parks as we would gaze at the beautiful wonders which were beyond our reach. I remember affirming with myself during each of those heavenly moments that I was the luckiest man alive, as I was graced with the most beautiful star of them all, right there next to me, shimmering as bright as ever. So as I shivered and was on the verge of creating another hypothermic memory in my present day, I looked out into that night sky to relive and feel some sort of connection with her. Don't ask me what that necessarily means if it's weird or confusing - I can do some of the strangest and most random shit sometimes, and attempt to accordingly justify that it's got some sort of additional meaning, even if it's just a plain greyish sky right now. If anything, the sky tonight is just reminiscent of myself with its basic, undecorated and boring display on hand. It's simply ugly, has nothing to offer the world, and is certainly not worth waiting around to see it ever change for, even if it constantly attempt to shine. The light beyond it is so ravenous to take centre stage, but is ultimately shielded by the overwhelming dominance of the dark grey clouds. I wish that my soul could merge with this darkness of this night, and be purged from this sinister torment that corrupts it. The broken remains continue to annihilate me, and the fragments continue to sharply stab away at my mind and heart. I've already reached the point where I've whole heartedly (ha) invited in the emptiness, because I don't care anymore. Though even stIll, I channeled the inspirational light which she's granted me that remains, and managed to cumulate a little bit of faith from behind the darkest clouds of my soul. Even though I'm not sure what that word means any longer, as I'm of the living, breathing hypocrites who denounces it through his general actions and mistrust in others on a daily basis. In my desperation my hands joined together for the first time since I can ever recall, and with my eyes shut, I selfishly begged to be forgiven for all my sins - past, present and for the 'mistakes' yet to happen. I begged for another chance at redemption, so that I can emerge as the person I wish to be - for her, for others, and for myself, and sealed my amen with a single teardrop which landed against the rough ground on which I knelt. I can't bear to admit that this was an act of prayer, because it wasn't. I have no right to utilise that word in this or any regard, when all I've ever done is uncharitably taken and never given thanks in return. I'm not worth listening to, or worth taking another chance on, or worth anything whatsoever anymore. I've already betrayed my faith in God, just as I betrayed my faith in her.