#and I had to find the fucking clinical study that proves I’m right

[weirdgirlvampire]

2025 goals: destroy my autoimmune disease

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Catnap II

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: More barista!Mikey and his kittens, because we can all use some fluff (and a nice makeout sesh) from time to time

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: You wake up from your nap with Mikey in an interesting way...

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff. More cats. More swearing. A li'l kissin'.

@deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn

You wake up when something fluffy brushes past your nose. When you open your eyes, you see tufts of white fur. Your head, however, is still on Mike’s shoulder, and he’s holding you pretty close. So how did this cat – it’s Nova – manage to worm its way in between your bodies?

“Mike?” you say softly after moving your head away. He hums, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Is she okay? Are we crushing her?” Apparently, your question is enough for him to very slowly open one eye.

“Oh, she’s fine. She did this.” Mike doesn’t let you go, so he must mean what he says. “I’ll let you in on a little secret... Cats are actually liquid. And what they lack in brains and bones, they make up for in cuteness and chaos.” As if to prove a point, Nova turns around between you and rubs her face against Mike’s cheek, while trying her hardest to push you away from him.

“Hey baby,” he says as he softly kisses her little head before turning to you, looking embarrassed. Then, in a split second, the look disappears from his face, and is replaced by a very serious expression. He also lets go of you, much to your displeasure. “I’m just going to be upfront about this. I’ve had girls think I’m totally weird with my cats, because I love these idiots to bits. Girls, mind you, who were at the time also studying to be vets...”

“You’re a vet?” you interrupt. Of course you had a feeling that the coffee shop was a side job, but you never thought to ask whether he was in college or not...

“Few credits shy,” he answered, slightly taken aback by the sudden intrusion on his story. “That’s why I moved back home. I’m not enrolled for the first semester, so I had to give up my dorm. It’s okay, though, I get to intern with my mom... She runs a vet clinic from here. And picking up a few extra shifts hasn’t been the worst – Sy! Can you at least not be on my head?”

You look up, only to find that the orange giant apparently thought it was a good idea to park his fat butt on the side of Mike’s face. He really is ‘chunky as fuck’, and it doesn’t look comfortable at all. Not that it matters to him, because he stays right where he is. Soon, the four others join you on the bed, apparently for the sole purpose of screaming at Mike.

“What time is it?” Mike says as he reaches for his phone on the windowsill next to his bed. “Oh, my bad, you guys want food...” As soon as the word ‘food’ is out of his mouth, all cats dash for the door – except Nova, who still seems perfectly comfortable squished between you and Mikey. So much so, even, that she meows loudly in protest when he gets up.

“Can you pick her up and take her with you?” Mike asks, and you happily oblige. ‘Please cuddle the snuggly floof’ isn’t exactly a chore, or anything. Nova doesn’t object to being picked up and carried, either. She just contently purrs in your arms as you follow Mike through the house, to the kitchen.

“Oh my god, she is so cute!” you squeal when you sit down and she still won’t move, even though Mike is being harassed by the others as he tries to get them their food.

“She really is,” he says. “Ragdolls have exactly zero braincells. I’m fairly sure that one would die if she didn’t get enough attention.” He looks over his shoulder, and you catch a glimpse of a sweet smile as he briefly looks at you and the cat. It’s a good thing he turns back when he does, though.

“For fuck’s sake, guys! This isn’t going to go any faster if you…” Mike sighs loudly. “Sure, there’s at least thirty beds for you monsters scattered around the house, but by all means, Nyx: sit in your bowl.”

He shakes his head as he walks away to grab something, and the cats just keep following him wherever he goes. “I could do this in two minutes, if only this kitchen had fucking doors,” he mumbles.

“So, where were we?” Mike says as you step back into his room. He pulls you along as he walks to his bed, then turns around and drops down, dragging you with him. You end up on top of him. This time, his kiss isn’t soft. It’s eager, and sloppy, with that little edge of enthusiasm just north of too much. It’s dorky, and it’s exactly what makes him so cute. Even when he slips his hands underneath your t-shirt – something you tend to not let guys do on the first date – he does it with so much carefree eagerness that it’s somehow super sweet.

He has some serious trouble keeping his hands to himself, though, and you have to remind him several times that no, he’s absolutely getting nowhere near your boobs tonight.

“But they’re so pretty,” Mike pouts.

“Suck that bottom lip back in, boy,” you tease him, as he lets out a sad groan while trying to pull your face back to his. He doesn’t listen, so you bend down quickly and bite him in that stuck-out lower lip while you have the chance. It immediately becomes clear to you that that was the best mistake you’re going to make today, because he rolls you both over so that he’s on top now.

“Sweetcheeks, if you’re gonna bite, I’m gonna lose my patience,” he warns you with a goofy smile that melts your insides.

“This is you being patient?” There’s something about him that makes you want to tease him beyond where you’d normally go this quickly. He’s so handsome, and so… harmless. On a whim, you wrap your legs around him and pull him tighter against you. It’s absolutely undeniably obvious he has a boner.

“That’s a fair point, I guess… Larry, fuck off! I’m trying to score here!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen in absolute terror. “Probably shouldn’t have phrased it that way...”

“Probably not,” you laugh. Mike rolls off you, spooking Larry – who had decided this was a good time to take a nap between Mike’s shoulder blades. He lies down next to you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“I wasn’t getting anywhere to begin with, was I?” he asks. Nothing about his tone or face gives you even the slightest idea that he minds if your answer is ‘no’. Not that you would have given him false hope, no matter how cute this guy is…

“I don’t hook up on the first date,” you reply, pretending to feel really bad for him.

“Second date?” he tries, the smile on his lips widening. “Why don’t you find out?”

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Chapter 2

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)  

Rating: M

Words: 2K

Warnings: SMUT!! (fingering, sexual content, small breeding kink i guess), cursing. things of that nature

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for… A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

AN: Unedited. This chapter has smut, not intense smut but it is to further the plot. comment on this chapter or message for taglist. much love Cia!

 Chapter 2: Would it help if I dressed up like Spock?

You never want to thank serial killers for anything but you were slightly grateful that they decided to chill for a week. You and Spencer didn’t really want to have to put this off another month and you very well couldn’t go to Hotch like “you mind if Spencer sits this case out so he can knock me up?” 

You decided that you wouldn’t tell the team what you guys were doing until you were at least 4 months pregnant, which getting Garcia to keep it a secret was proving to be its own task. You thankfully had been able to intercept her before she could tell Derek. 

Spencer was over every night after work now, cuddling you on your couch watching a new Disney movie. For a man who seemed to know everything, his classic children movie knowledge was lacking. Right now, you guys were watching Ratatouille. He was sitting on the couch and you were on the floor beneath him between his legs, his hand aimlessly raking through your hair. You were on the verge of purring like a cat. You had forgotten how it felt to be comfortable around someone. 

“I don’t understand. If this movie is supposed to be about a rodent in a gourmet restaurant. Why is he making a peasant dish?” 

“It’s called Ratatouille. Why do you think?” You say, looking up at him. “It’s a pun.” 

He smiles down at you. “Well, it’s a play on words. Not a pun.” 

“Whatever, nerd.” You go to turn your attention back to the screen but his hand slides from your scalp to around your chin, forcing your head to stay up. 

“Tomorrow’s the day, you know.” Spencer says. 

“Trust me, I know.” You say. 

“Are you…. nervous?” He asks, eyes kind of shifting. 

“You don't make me nervous, Spencer.” You say, turning so you can look at him fully. “But something tells me you are. Tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“It’s just…. Idontwantittobebadforyou.” He rushes out. 

You look confused for a second before you realize what he’s saying to you. “Oh, Spencer you don’t have to worry about that.” You say, tapping him on the leg. “After all, you are kinda the only one it needs to be good for.”  

“Actually some studies have been showing that women are more likely to become pregnant if they also achieve orgasm.”  

“Now that’s something I didn’t know.” 

“I just… it just feels selfish. You’re not getting anything out of it.” 

“But I am getting something out of it, Spence. The best thing, our kid.” You laugh. “That’s what we’re doing this for, right?” 

He hesitates slightly. “Y-Yea, it is. Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“Hey, it’s alright. Caring if I orgasm already puts you above like 90% of the guys I’ve fucked.” You shrug. “Now, shut up. I’m trying to watch Remy.” You say, turning your attention but to the kitchen antics on the screen before you. 

———————————————

You had been antsy all day. Penelope tried to pry out of you what was making you so jittery but you never told her. As far as Penny was concerned, you and Spencer were going through the clinic. She didn’t need to know the details of how you were getting pregnant. 

After work, you and Spencer piled into your car and drove to your house. Once inside, Spencer waited in the living room while you went to the bathroom and took an ovulation test. Not exactly the sexiest thing to set the mood but what are you gonna do? You come out some time later brandishing the test before tossing it in the trash. 

“Well, I’m ovulating.” You say. “How are you feeling?” 

“F-Fine.” He stutters before clearing his throat. “I’m fine.” 

“Ok so you’re clearly not fine.” You say. “We don’t have to do this tonight if you’re having doubts. We can wait as long as you need.” 

“No, I’m fine, just nervous.” 

“This is probably the wrong time to ask but you’ve…. Done this before right?” 

He looks at you incredulously. “Christ, Y/N. I’m not a Virgin.” He exclaims. You hold your hands up in surrender. “It’s just weird. You’re my coworker.” 

“We can pretend I’m someone else if you want. Like I’m someone from the bar? Or where do you even meet girls? The library? Comic con? Pen gave me a Star Trek shirt last year. Would it help if I dressed up like Spock?—“ 

“Can I just kiss you?” He cuts you off. “Can we start there?” 

Your face can’t help but soften at that. “Yea, Spencer. That’s fine.” You say, stepping into his space. You feel his hand cradle your face before he leans in kissing you softly. You go at his speed for a while, slowly letting your tongues meet in the middle as you wound your hands into his hair. Soon a gasp is leaving you as you feel hands circling your waist pulling you closer as his kisses become rougher. Soon, you find yourself pressed against your wall. You let out a small yelp not expecting that at all. Spencer slots a leg in between yours, rubbing it against your clothed sex slightly. You groan when you feel his erection against your hip. Spencer’s now kissing you extremely rough. His hand drifts from it’s hold on your hip to the bottom of your jaw, fingers spreading slightly so he's almost gripping your neck like he wants to but is trying to hold back for right now. You’re a little surprised at that, you would’ve never thought Spencer Reid was into that. He pulls away for a second, hand still on your jaw looking at you with hooded eyes. 

“Bedroom?” He asks. You nod. 

———————————————

The two of you didn’t even have time to have an awkward moment because as soon as you’re in your room behind the closed door Spencer is on you, his lips finding your neck and that spot behind your earlobe that makes you moan. You reach to start unbuttoning his shirt, he helps you and you feel the slight smirk against your jaw. As soon as he’s undressed, you take off your clothes and sit on the bed. You look up and see Spencer still standing up at the end of it, watching you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask. 

“Nothing.” He says. “You’re just- you’re beautiful, Y/N.”  

You don’t like the way your heart flutters at that. You need to get a grip and remember this is just a one time thing, a business interaction. 

“So do something about it.” You say. 

Spencer is on top of you at the speed of light, trailing kisses down your neck and chest. You moan loudly, back lifting off the bed when his lips circle around your nipple, fingers playing with the neglected one. He looks at you softly as he starts to pull your underwear down. His fingers ghost above your sex, waiting for your permission. You nod, moaning when you feel the first digit slides across your wet folds. You had thought about Spencer’s hands before but nothing could prepare you for how they’d actually feel inside you. He says nothing, just gently pumps the two fingers inside you, smirking at how much you’re falling apart under him. It’s somehow hotter than when guys talk to you in bed. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the line you had set for yourself as you get closer to the edge. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you were. Your moans got more and more loud as you felt yourself falling over the edge, praising Spencer’s name all the while. He still says nothing, just studies you with a look of wonderment crossing his face as you ride out your orgasm. 

“You ready?” He asks. You nod, helping him pull off his boxers before he settles in the space between your legs. You feel the tip of his member press against you before he looks you in the eye again, silently asking for permission. You push back against him, granting it. The two of you groan loudly at the feeling as he presses inside of you. Spencer gives you time to adjust to his length, he was definitely a lot bigger than you thought he was going to be, then again you never really thought about any of your coworkers genitalia before. You nod when you're ready and he starts moving, slow at first but quickly picking up pace when he hears the groans and moans escaping your body unintentionally.   

“Fuck, Spencer. R-Right there.” You stutter out, Spencer moves your legs higher up on his waist as he started fucking you faster, hitting that spot inside you nearly every thrust. You went into this expecting nothing, really just the most mediocre sex possible. Which was fine, you were only doing this for your baby. You certainly weren’t expecting Spencer to actually be good at this. But here you were, moaning like a pornstar underneath the man she didn’t even like just weeks ago. 

“Fuck,  Y/N.” He moaned, head dropping into your neck. You could feel him panting into your ear. “Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so tight, baby.” 

You don’t know where that baby came from but you were too caught up in it to care. Your moans get louder and louder and Spencer drops a hand to your sex, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves that had your back arching off the bed. You were so unbelievably close you and Spencer could tell by the scratches you left down his back. He placed a small bite on the small patch of flesh behind your earlobe and that was all it took back over the edge for the second time that night. You felt Spencer’s thrust start to falter shortly after.  

“Shit, you feel so good, Y/N.” He groans into your ear. “Fuck.” 

You knew it wasn’t wise and if you could take it back you would. But you got swept up in the moment and still reeling from the two orgasms you had that you turned your head and whispered directly into Spencer’s ear. 

“Give me your baby, Spence.” 

Spencer’s leans his head up to look at you now, an almost feral look crossing his face as he starts fucking you harder. Looking you so intensely in your eyes. He brings a hand up to your neck squeezing the sides slightly and gripping your head so you can’t even look anywhere else if you wanted to. 

“Fuck, Y/N. You want me to fuck a baby into you, don’t you?” He says, fucking you impossibly hard. You moan loudly, gripping his wrist attached to the hand around your neck. “Fuck, I’m gonna--” He cuts off, and you watch him shake as he releases inside of you, thrusting shallowly as he rides out his orgasm. 

A minute passes and he separates from you, placing another pillow under your hips. “I’ve seen some studies say it’s better to keep the hips propped up for five minutes after sex to increase chances of fertilization.”  He says. “I’ll be right back.” 

He leaves you alone in the room for a second and you decide to spend that time gathering your thoughts. This could not be good. Spencer just gave you the best sex of your life for what most likely, was going to be a one time thing. You don’t even know how to go about working with him and raising this child knowing what he was like in the sack. This was a bad idea, but it was also a little too late now. 

He comes back in with a cold water bottle, prompting you to drink it which you happily accept. He goes and runs a hand softly through your sweatshined hair. 

“Sorry for… doing that, I know you said it wasn’t necessary before but you seemed close and it felt cruel to just not.” You look at him confused for a second before you realize what he’s saying. 

“Are you…. Apologizing for making me cum?” You ask. Spencer looks down awkwardly for a second. “Spencer, trust me it’s fine. In fact, it’s more than fine. Thank you for this. I know it was less than ideal for you.” 

Spencer playfully ruffles your hair. “It was not as bad as I thought it would be.” 

You roll your eyes at that. “Gee, thanks Casablanca.” 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He laughs. “I should get going.” 

“It’s already late. You could just… stay if you want.” 

“I don’t want to impose--” He starts but you cut him off. 

“Spencer, stay with me.” You say again, looking him in the eyes. “Please.” 

He looks at you back for a second, decoding if you were serious before nodding and crawling into the bed next to you. You immediately turn and toss an arm over his torso. 

“Goodnight, Spencer.” You say. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says back. 

You can almost swear you feel a kiss at the top of your forehead before you drift off but you’re so tired. 

 You probably hallucinated it. 

      Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​ @no-honey-no​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @chenlemure​ @sizzlingclamturtlesludge​ @tclaerh​ @k-k0129 @takeyourleap-of-faith​ @trashyhipsterfangirl @haylaansmi​ @spencerreidlivesrentfreeinmyhead​ @waspyyy​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @octaviaxanadu​ @whxt-to-write​ @meowiemari​ @b99andsoc​ @boba-king-iroh​ @punkndisorderrly​ @richardrosejpeg​ @underratedmisfit​ @gredvb​ @criminalminds4days​ @fanfictionislifetho​ @justpeachykeeeen​ @kopfkinomind @moonchildkei @appleblossoms-posts​ @urguardiandevil​ @cm-imagines-07​ @ajeff855

[tinyboxxtink]

"Broken" A Sharky ANGSTY O/S

So I made a one shot called Baby Shark where Sharky and Rafael get pregnant and after some bumpy conversation, decide to have the baby and she grows up to be a great kid, and you love being a mother.

However, at the time I also had an idea for the OTHER outcome of the pregnancy. But I let it go, and then I got a request from-- someone, I don't know if they want this out in the world-- to write a fic about a miscarriage. So, I figured I'd go with the idea I had already planned out.

AND SO,

I present to you, the alternative outcome of "Baby Shark".

Warning: VERY angsty, dealing with abortions and miscarriages. Also religion, if you're sensitive about that.

Read at your own discretion.

If you would like to read the happy version of this story, it is here.

Tag List

@objection-argumentative

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

You stared at the four pregnancy tests on the counter, waiting on the fifth. Plus signs and “Pregnant” words were sitting there, mocking you. You heard your phone alarm go off and picked up the last test.

Positive.

“Dammit!!!” You threw it across the bathroom. This was your worst nightmare. You didn’t want kids right now, you weren’t sure you wanted kids EVER. But you knew Rafael did, he probably wanted them as soon as possible.

“Mi Amor?” Rafael slowly opened the door.

“Raffi!” You spun around angrily. “Don’t you knock?!”

“Well I heard you yell…Oh my god,” Rafael suddenly noticed all the positive tests. “Y/N, are you…are you pregnant?”

“Yeah, well obviously,” You scoffed, gesturing to the many positive tests. You weren’t trying to be mean but he walked in just when you were trying to wrap your mind around this.

“…Why are you angry about this, carino?” He looked at you confused. “You…you do want kids, don’t you?”

“We really should have had this conversation before we got married, god why didn’t we have this conversation…”

“Oh my god,” Rafael stepped back. “You DON’T want kids?”

“I don’t know!” You threw your hands up. “Rafael I had given up on being a wife a long time ago, let alone a mother,”

“I can’t believe this,” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Look I just don’t want to have to make this decision right NOW,” You tried to act softer, lowering your voice. “You know we JUST got married, and we JUST started the practice. I just wanted some time to BREATHE,”

“So…you want to abort it?” Rafael’s voice was soft and sad.

“Christ Almighty Rafael it’s not ‘aborting’ it’s…” You paused, noticing his face was getting more horrified. “What?”

“I thought when you were defending me, your whole ‘cold medical’ argument was a tactic…”

“Yeah well,” You ran your fingers through your hair. “Look, baby,” You took his hand again. “If I…got rid of it,” You saw him flinch. “It would just be taking a pill that rips apart cells and tissue. It doesn’t disintegrate arms or legs, or a tiny beating heart,”

“Yeah I get it, Y/N” He dropped your hands and walked out of the bathroom, you ran after him.

“Rafael, come on!” You chased him through the apartment, grabbing his hand and making him face. “At least hear me out,”

“Why? Why should I? You clearly won’t hear me out! You’ve already made your decision, I bet you weren’t even going to tell me about it,”

“That’s not fair,” You replied, hurt. Of course you would have told him, wouldn’t you?

“And…it’s not just this,” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you don’t want kids right now is one thing, if you don’t want kids EVER, then…” He wiped his eyes. “Then we’re just delaying the inevitable,” He said softly, you could hear the tears in his voice.

“What?” Your heart fell into your stomach. “What are you saying?”

“I want kids, Y/N,” He looked at you very seriously. “I want kids and I’m not going to give up that idea,”

“So, you would just walk away from me for some hypothetical kids you might have some day?” You were getting upset now. How dare he threaten you like that.

“I don’t…” He ran his hands through his hair, tears still falling from his eyes. “I don’t want to,”

“Then DON’T,” You crossed your arms.

“Why should I appease you when you won’t even THINK about it?” He suddenly went from sad to angry, matching your attitude.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t think about it, I said I really don’t want to decide NOW,” You yelled back, as you sat down on the couch. All of this yelling was making you dizzy.

“Then when do you want to decide, Y/N? When-- when our baby actually has fingers, toes? Is that going to change your mind about killing them?”

“Oh my god, you are so--” You stomped out of the bathroom and through your living room.

“Where are you going?” He called after you.

“To prove to you I’m not a heartless bitch!” You yelled back as you stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

=====

You drove to the clinic that Dr. Ramoray worked at, pulling into the parking lot and rushed into the waiting room.

“I need to speak to Dr. Ramoray,“ You informed her.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but we’re old friends,”

“Excuse me?” She looked at you quizzically.

“Can you-- can you just tell him Y/N is here and really needs to talk to him?”

“....Okay…” She looked at you skeptically but stood up and went to find the doctor. After a few minutes Dr. Ramoray walked out and greeted you.

“Hello, Y/N. Nice to see you,” He shook your hand. “Don’t tell me you have another case--”

“No, it’s personal this time doctor,”

“Personal?”

“I...can we…?” You motioned towards the rooms.

“Well...sure, Stella hold my appointments,” He informed his receptionist.

He walked you back and into a patient room. It was lined with charts of the different stages of pregnancy, lists of do’s and don’t during pregnancy, things like that. You took a seat in the regular seats as opposed to the patient stirrups.

“So, how can I help you dear?”

“Well, you know that man I defended?”

“The ADA? Well of course, that’s one day I will never forget,”

“Well he’s my-- husband,” You looked down, hoping that wasn’t a lie.

“I see,” He nodded. “Well, that makes a lot of sense now that I think about it,”

“Right,” You nodded sheepishly. “Well, see we uh-- I got us in a...situation,” You put a hand on your stomach.

“Ah,” He nodded again. “I see,”

“Yeah..”

“And guessing by your argument in court, you’d like to get rid of the...zygote?”

“I don’t know,” You shook your head. “I...I didn’t have the greatest role mode of a mother growing up, and I have no idea how to--” You rubbed your temples. Too much detail.

“Look my husband has the opposite stance on my...views, of a zygote,”

“Well that’s ironic, isn’t it?” He chuckled.

“Yes haha. I just want you--- I just need a picture of this thing to show him it’s just cells, it’s not a--”

“A baby,” he finished for you.

“Right,”

“Well, as you must know due to your research Ms. Y/N, depending on how far along you are it might be impossible to even see the zygote,” He explained.

“Well that’s even better,” You half smiled. “Then it will really prove to him I’m doing nothing wrong-- if I decide to get rid of it,”

“As you wish,” He nodded, gesturing for you to get on the patient table. You laid down on the table and pulled your shirt up, while the doctor got the gooey gel and rubbed it on your stomach. He pulled up a screen that recorded the sonogram, as he ran the scanner over your uterus.

“....Hmm…” He studied the screen intently.

“Hmmm?” You asked. “Hmmm doesn’t sound good,”

“I...well, there seems to be an...issue,”

“Excuse me?” You sat up. “An issue? What kind of issue?”

“Well Ms. Y/N according to this, your uterus is what we would call-- hostile,”

“Hostile?” You half laughed. “Why does that not surprise me…?” You shook your head. Of course you, the cold hearted shark, would have a hostile uterus on top of everything else hostile in your body.

“Yes, see all of this extra tissue? It’s not ideal for a fetus to grow and develop,” He pointed out clouds of white almost filling your uterus. “To be completely honest with you, it’s a miracle you even got pregnant,”

“...Oh Jesus…” You put your hands over your face. “Why...God why…”

“If you decide to terminate this pregnancy, there’s a slim to none chance this will ever happen again,” He continued.

“Great,” You chuckled sarcastically. “So now even NATURE is forcing me to make a choice right now,”

“Well,” He pushed the screen away. “If it helps your decision, there’s an 75% percent chance the baby will even survive full term,”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You laughed harder. “So, even if I decide to concede to my husband and go ahead with this, there’s a 25% chance that he’ll get attached to it, and then it will die anyway?!”

“Look Ms. Y/N,” He put a hand on your shoulder. “In my experience, more often than not women with hostile uteruses that do actually get pregnant, end up having perfectly healthy babies. Granted most are preemies, but with today’s technology that’s almost never an issue,”

“...Right,” You shook your head with a dry sarcastic smile, still in disbelief this was all happening.

“And if you don’t mind me saying,” He added. “I really think this is something you should discuss with your husband,”

“I actually really do mind you saying, Doctor,” You said curtly. “I just...I need a minute, can I have a minute?”

“Sure, take a minute. Call him, maybe ask him to come down,”

“...Yeah, right,” You shook your head with a smile as you walked out of the room and down the hall through the waiting room and outside in front of the clinic. You walked over to a small bench off to the side of the walkway into the clinic and sat down, and before you could think your body just erupted in a loud, angry scream.

“....Do you think this is funny, huh?!” You yelled up at the sky. “Is this, what is this, some kind of TEST?” You stood up now as you continued your rant.

“Are you-- are you trying to test how much I love Rafael? Testing just how much I’ve REALLY changed? Or are you just trying to prove to me that I can’t be happy? I can’t have the nice, perfect man, with a perfect family? That I’ll just lose anything good that I touch? You’ve turned my own BODY against me?!” You started to cry in the middle of the grass.

“Why would you do this, huh?” You asked Him. “You know the kind of mother I grew up with, you know I have nothing GOOD to reference on being a mother!” Tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Why would you do this to me? Have I been that shit of a person? Really? I went through...I went through hell and back my entire life, and then I fought like hell for Rafael, for someone who actually loved me, for the very first time in my life! And now-- now you want to take that away from me? Or are you giving me a second chance? TELL ME! TELL ME WHAT I’M SUPPOSED TO DO!!!!!!!” You screamed, falling to your knees sobbing.

“....Y/N?” A soft voice made you leap to your feet and spin around to see Rafael standing there, his mouth slightly open with a confused look on his face.

“Rafa,” You quickly sucked the rest of your breakdown back into your body, wiping tears away and clearing your throat. “W-What are you doing here?”

“I...I came to support you,” He said softly as he walked closer to you.

“Support me?”

“Well I figured, you came down here to--”

“To what, kill our baby? Without even discussing with you?” You scoffed.

“No!” He cried. “Well, maybe..”

“Right,” You shook your head with a dry laugh.

“But I was going to support you no matter your decision!!” He defended himself.

“Oh well, that’s really big of you Rafael. Coming down here to hold my hand while I abort our child and then breaking up with me as soon as we walked out of here,” You scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

“That’s not--” He shook his head. “Look, I think-- I think that what matters right now is your little...soliloquy there,” He gestured towards the bench where you were having your screaming match at God.

“...Right,”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me about your mother, carino?”

“Why would I, Rafael?” You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “I already inadvertently told you I’d never heard the words ‘I love you’ in my life before you, I thought that was pretty obvious I didn’t have the greatest parents,”

“...Fair,” He closed the gap between you, taking your hands. “I’m sorry, I should have taken that into account when were...talking,”

“Arguing,” You clarified.

“Right,” He nodded sadly. “I just-- I ...I’ve always--”

“Yeah, I get it. You’ve always wanted kids. I should have taken that into account when we even started dating. I should have thought this could happen. I’m usually so level headed and ten steps ahead of things, but with you--”

“It’s different,” He finished for you with a sad smile.

“Yeah,” You nodded softly, looking at the ground.

“Well,” He tilted your chin up. “I don’t--I don’t want to impose anything on you, but--”

“But…”

“But...you did just ask the big guy what to do, and I was here,”

“...So you’re saying, God is telling me to go through with this?”

“All I’m stating is facts, Sharky,” He rubbed your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not telling you to do anything, I’m really not. I swear,”

“....Well, you should know all the facts then,” You sighed, leading him back to the bench where you both sat.

“All the facts?” He asked you curiously.

“...Dr. Ramoray says that I have a…’hostile uterus’,” You shook your head with a laugh, just saying it sounded absurd.

“A hostile uterus? You? I’m shocked,” He joked, trying to ease the tension.

“I know right?” You chuckled. “Anyway um-- he said, that it was a miracle I even got pregnant,” You said softly while you played with his hand in yours.

“...A miracle?”” Rafael’s voice perked up a little. Did that mean you were considering it? Surely you wouldn’t have told him that if you were going to get rid of it.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “And um-- he said, he said if I terminated this pregnancy, there was a slim to none chance that I’d ever get pregnant again,” You looked at the ground.

“I see,” He squeezed your hand softly. “So...basically, even mother nature is forcing you to make a life decision right now,”

“That’s what I said!” You looked up into his eyes; you really were so in sync.

“...Which is why you were yelling at God,”

“...Right,” You looked up at the sky. “But there’s another thing,”

“Oh?”

“The doctor said that even if I decide to go ahead with the pregnancy, there’s a 25% chance that it will die anyway,” You looked into his eyes sadly. “Because of course, my body would be just like my mother, rejecting it,” You looked away from him with another sarcastic laugh, thinking of the irony of your situation.

“Hey,” He put a hand on your face, making you look at him. “You are NOT your mother,”

“You didn’t even know her,”

“I know she wouldn’t be wrestling with this decision, would she?”

“No,” You shook your head. “She definitely would not. She made it very clear that my father MADE her have me, because he didn’t believe in abortion,”

“....Like I was trying to do,” He said sadly.

“No baby,” You took his hands. “I know you weren’t trying to force me to do anything,”

“....But I kind of was, when I threatened to leave you,” He looked down in shame.

“No, uh uh,” Now it was your turn to pull his chin upwards. “It’s not the same. Not even close,”

“....So,” He took a deep breath. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“....Well,” You gave him a small smile. “I can’t exactly argue with God for giving me what I asked for, right?”

“Wha--you mean me?”

“I asked him what to do, and here you are,” You pressed your forehead against his. “I’d say that’s a pretty big red flag of an answer,”

“Carino,” His lips curled into a huge smile before they were on yours.

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

----Six Months Later----

You were in your last trimester, and were finally starting to breathe about your impending labor. Every month, every doctor’s appointment, you’d walk into the office with the worst expectations, and every time you were proven wrong. In that time, you had grown attached to your little girl, who you decided to name Isabella. Izzie, for short.

Rafael would talk to Izzie as much as he talked to you, always speaking in Spanish thinking she’d pick it up in the womb. You’d just shake your head with a smile, it was adorable the way he was so excited. It made you even more excited, just seeing him so happy. You had never been so invested in someone else’s emotions other than your own, especially not someone who hadn’t even been born yet. But you loved Izzie already, you would smile to yourself when you’d feel her moving around inside you. It was like she was snuggling you in her own little cocoon inside you.

However, on the day of your baby shower, all of your new hopes and dreams came crashing down. You were doing your makeup, humming and bouncing along with the Spotify playlist you had playing-- when you felt it. A sharp, overwhelming pain struck your abdomen, causing you to hunch over, falling to your knees.

“RAFAEL!!!!!” You screamed as your insides felt like they were being stabbed everywhere. Everything you had feared was coming true.

Rafael sprinted into your bathroom half dressed and instantly was down next to you.

“Y/N, baby what’s wrong?” He asked frantically, checking your body everywhere as you writhed in pain and began to cry.

“It’s...Izzie,” You sobbed, knowing what was happening. “I’m losing her,”

“Oh God,” Rafael dialed 911 while he tried to help you stand. When he saw your pelvis however, he stopped moving you.

“What?” You asked in a panicked tone. “What is it?”

“You’re...You’re bleeding, Y/N,” His eyes began to fill with tears as he watched you quickly begin to bleed out in front of him.

“What?” You tried desperately to look down at yourself, all you saw was a pool of blood running down the floor to your feet. Everything started to go fuzzy, you could barely hear Rafael screaming on the phone for someone to hurry up and come to your rescue. Pretty soon, you blacked out completely.

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

The next thing you knew you were waking up in a hospital bed with a nurse taking your vitals.

“Welcome back, Ms. Y/N,” She smiled sweetly. “We almost lost you there,”

“...Lost me?” You looked at her in confusion before looking down at your stomach. A huge bandage was wrapped around your torso, covering several stitches and tubes coming out of your pelvis.

“Oh my god,” You whispered, beginning to panic again. “Oh my god, oh my god--”

“Whoa whoa calm down sweetie,” The nurse tried to keep you from squirming around. “You’ll pop your stitches,”

“Where’s Izzie? Where’s Rafael?” You asked her as you started to hyperventilate.

“Your husband ran to get a coffee” She assured you. “And um, your-- your baby is…”

“She’s dead, isn't she?” You began to sob. “I killed her,”

“No! No ma’am,” She shook her head. “Well, I mean she-- she is-- gone,” She said sadly. “But you did NOT kill her,”

“No, just my hostile body,” You continued to sob.

“Look I’m-- I’ll be right back,” She rushed out of the room, leaving you crying and screaming in horror and guilt.

After a few minutes, Rafael was bursting into the room, instantly at your side and taking your shaking body in his arms. He was still covered in your blood, he hadn’t dared to leave your side since they had gotten you there.

“I killed her, Rafa,” You sobbed into his chest. “I knew it, I knew this would happen. I’m broken inside, I told you I was broken,”

“Shhh, no no no mi amor,” He whispered as he tried to not start crying himself. “Shhhh, you’re-- you’re not broken,”

“I am!!!” You sobbed harder. “I killed our baby, just like I knew I would. It’s the one thing I was supposed to give you,”

“...Shh, baby I know. It’s okay, it’s alright--” He looked up at the sky as he began to cry himself.

“No it’s not, it’s not okay!!” Your sobs became heavier, you could barely breathe. All of your fears were coming true, you were being punished. You lost your child and now you were going to lose the love of your life. “Please don’t leave me, Please please please,”

“What?” He suddenly looked back down at you, pulling you from his chest. “Why would I--”

“I KILLED OUR BABY!!!!!!!!” You screamed. “That’s the ONE thing you asked me not to do!! The one thing! And I did it anyway!!!”

“NO, you did NOT,” He took both of your shoulders. “You did not kill our baby, do you hear me? You tried so hard, you took such good care of Izzie, carino--” He started to cry again as he said her name.

“She’s dead, Rafael,” You had just started to get your sobs under control until you saw him cry. You hated seeing him cry. You hated being the reason he was crying. “She’s dead!”

“And so were you!” He said through his tears. “You died on that table, they told me. But you came back to me,”

“....What?” Now you started to control your crying in shock from this new information.

“We may have lost Izzie, but I almost lost both of you. And I-- I don’t think I would have survived that,” He was still crying. “I...I’m devastated about Izzie, but I’m grateful you’re alive,”

“....Even though I’m broken?” You sniffled.

“You are not broken, mi amor,” He shook his head as he kissed your forehead, getting his own emotions to calm down. “...And if you still don’t believe me, then I promise you, I will spend the rest of our lives putting you back together,”

“....Okay,” You whispered, finally relaxing into his arms as he laid back against the wall.

“I love you, Y/N,” He whispered as he stroked your hair. “I will always love you, no matter what,”

“I love you too,” You sniffled as you started to fall asleep against his chest.

You wanted to believe him, but you knew deep down inside: You’d always be broken.

[carriagelamp]

Weirdly enough, I often find myself reading less in the summer, since I have more time than I do during the rest of the year to do other things. Also artfight has been eating up more than a bit of my free time! But here’s a collection a graphic novels I sat around on the hammock reading, and some novels I finished up...

(Everyone go read All Systems Red, holy crow guys)

A Whale of the Wild

The “sequel” to A Wolf Called Wander, though it doesn’t actually connect to the previous novel except in the stylistic/thematic sense. A Whale of the Wild is very much a standalone novel. And a pretty decent one! Personally, I think I liked Wolf more, but this one was a pleasant, informative read, with just the right amount of crushing dread sprinkled in. It’s about a young orca called Vega who is learning to become a new wayfinder for her pod but who still has a lot to learn, especially in an ocean that is becoming increasingly hostile to orcas and the other sealife that live alongside humans. When a devastating earthquake hits, Vega and her little brother find themselves separated from their family, lost in a now horrifyingly unfamiliar environment, and fighting starvation as the salmon that sustain them become more and more unreliable. It’s a desperate fight for survival as they search for food and their missing family. This book is written for a middle grade level, and does a really good job of putting the current environmental crisis into an animal’s perspective while giving the readers something to hope for.

The Adventure Zone: The Crystal Kingdom

Every July I eagerly anticipate the next Adventure Zone graphic novel. This one is for their fourth arc, The Crystal Kingdom, in which Magnus, Taako, and Merle respond to a SOS from a floating laboratory that is gradually being consumed by crystals and which threatens the entire world should it fall into the ocean. Carey Pietsch’s art continues to be absolutely fantastic, so beautifully and hilariously expressive, and this one delivers some great Merle moments, lots of Carey Fangbattle, and, of course, Kravtiz. Kravitz, my beloved…

Anyway, I obviously always recommend these. If you’ve never gotten into The Adventure Zone, I totally recommend either trying these graphic novels — or even better, just go listen to the podcast because it really is both hilarious and creates a shockingly good and heart-wrenching story by the end.

All Systems Red

I’ve seen The Murderbot Diaries on my dash occasionally, and it always looked interesting, but a friend’s recommendation finally compelled me to read the first novella of the series. And holy shit y’all. Absolutely the best book I’ve read this month, it’s amazing. Mind-blowingly good. Also, if you’re like me and want a good audiobook, it’s a nice three-hour listen, very chill!

Anyway, All Systems Red is about a Security Unit, an artificially created being that’s part-organic part-mechanical and all-company-owned-and-controlled. However, self-named “Murderbot” has managed to hack into the system that suppresses its own will, and is now coasting along, doing the least amount of work its job requires not to be noticed, while preferring to spend all its time watching the hours and hours of soap operas it has downloaded into its brain. And it’s a tolerable if somewhat dull life, until the science team that it's currently rented to is attacked and the whole mission goes pear-shaped. Suddenly Murderbot has to scramble to keep its humans alive… while its humans scramble with the realization that their “SecUnit” isn’t actually a mindless robot like they had all believed...

This story is both gripping and hilariously funny. Murderbot has such a unique voice and perspective and it’s an absolute pleasure to follow its story. I reallly need to read the next book...

Asterix and the Banquet

A classic. I was startled when I realized I hadn’t actually read this Asterix story… but hell I’m not gonna complain, it lets me read one of the originals for the first time again! In this Asterix volume, the Indomitable Gauls and the Romans end up arranging a bet — the Romans intend to keep them under siege, trapped in their village, while Asterix is confident that he can easily evade them… and will prove it by going on a tour around all of Gaul, collecting iconic foods from each region in order to return and put on a fine banquet. So we get a fantastic adventure in which Asterix and Obelix run all over the country, pursued the whole way, while making cheerful stops at the various eateries along the way. Also the first book Dogmatix shows up in! All around, a wonderful read, fun like all the best Asterix comics are.

Beauty Pop v4

A less impressive graphic novel. The first Beauty Pop is one of my guilty pleasure manga because… it really is pretty stupid but in the best possible ways. I mean, the whole thing is framed around hairstyling battles, like a shojo sports manga without the sports. It’s bonkers. Unfortunately, the series does not really manage to hold up, and it really begins to feel repetitive and dragging as it continues… as a lot of series like this do. *shrug* Unsurprising but still kinda disappointing I suppose. The building three-way romantic tension is mildly interesting if for no other reason than the main character Does Not Notice and Does Not Care about any of it, which is amusing and refreshing.

FRNCK v5

Now this series only gets better and better as it goes. This is the first book of the second arc, and somehow the danger just seems to be ramping up and up and up. The cavefamily have lost their home… as well as Léonard and Gargouille. Heartbroken, shocked, and angry, Franck is the one who ends up shouldering the blame for their presumed deaths as the others mourn. Things only get worse when Franck finds himself separated from the family, and in the territory of another tribe, this one hostile and cannibalistic...

Haikyuu v5

I continue to read this series because it continues to be charming… though it is beginning to feel, maybe, just a little repetitive. Kind of an inevitability with sports manga. But so far it continues to be good enough to overcome that. I’m not sure what I can say about this series that I haven’t already, so I’ll simply say it continues to be one of the most impressive sports manga I’ve read, and the author does a fantastic job of creating engaging characters, fleshed out teams, and really compelling relationships. I do genuinely adore all the main members of Crows, along with a number of characters from the rival teams as well. And of course it has some kickass volleyball scenes that are just drawn so dramatically they can’t help but take your breath away a little.

M*A*S*H Goes To Maine

Meh. The original book of the series was actually quite good in my opinion. This one… considerably less so. The first part I enjoyed more, since it was about Hawkeye, Trapper, Duke, and Oliver Jones trying to set up the FinestKind Clinic and Fishmarket in Crabapple Cove (which… is just the best premise I could have ever asked for). However, the book spends most of its time describing the quirky lives and times of other people living in the area and I… just… don’t care. It was funny at times but… I just don’t care. I wanted to hear more about the main cast. Also I found this book felt more racist and misogynistic than the first which also put me off :/ Wouldn’t bother if I were you. Go read the first book instead, or better yet just watch the TV show which is an obvious banger.

My Heart’s in the Highlands

I have had this on my “currently reading” list for so long but I’m officially giving up. It’s a really good book in theory but my god I can’t get over the pacing.

It’s about Lady Jane, a woman studying medicine in Edinburgh in 1888, and who suddenly finds herself back in the Highlands in the 13th century. Lost and confused, Jane is now at the mercy Clan Donald’s hospitality while she tries to adjust to this new world and hunts for her broken time machine. Fortunately, this hospitality include a burgeoning friendship with a red-haired warrior woman, Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill, who opens Jane’s eyes to the way the world could be.

Listen. It drives me nuts. This book should be completely up my alley, it has everything I like — IT HAS ALL OF ITS HISTORICAL FOOTNOTES CITED AT THE BACK, LITTLE EXTRA DETAILS ABOUT EVERY CHAPTER. THAT’S MY SHIT RIGHT THERE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE BEING ABLE TO GO OVER HISTORICAL DETAILS?? AND WELL RESEARCHED FOOTNOTES?? And yet it doesn’t. Fucking. Work for me. It has a kickass Scottish warrior lady as a love interest! It has a badass lady doctor! It has fish-out-of-water culture shock! But it also has a completely meandering plot, no sense of building tension, and a romance that just happens out of nowhere and feels completely unearned and uninteresting.

I would genuinely just rather read Outlander again, which I know has its own host of problems, but at least Outlander felt exciting and interesting and tense and funny. The romance built in fits and starts, it was complicated, and kept me interested. That book had me hooked (and has me hooked every time I reread it) whereas this book I’ve been sadly picking at for months like its a plate of overcooked spinach. This felt like an attempt at a queer, historically accurate knockoff which I would normally be super into but which just could not stick the landing.

Moomin on the Riviera

My first time actually reading anything from the Moomin canon. I have zero idea how to feel about it! It certainly is as feral as I’ve heard described! Overall, I think I enjoyed it but it sure made me feel strange emotions I didn’t know existed. I’m not even going to try to describe it. Read it if you want a batshit insane anti-capitalist comic.

Surviving the City

This was good in some areas, less good in others. It had a very interesting indigenous perspective on life in the modern city, the foster system, and The Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women issue, which I’ve never seen handled in a book before. Something about the pacing did not completely click with me and I found myself getting easily distracted, but it’s definitely worth the read just to experience it and look at the issues it deals with through the characters’ (and author’s) eyes. It did give me a lot to think about and wrestle with, which is sometimes the best thing a book can give you.

Torchwood: Pack Animals

A really fun read, more so than I had ever expected! If you like Torchwood and want more stories about the team before everything goes to shit, this is perfect for that. It includes the entire cast, an interest mystery to be unravelled, lots of slavering monsters, Rhys being really wonderful and sweet (which I didn’t know I wanted until I read this book), and all the humour I expect from Torchwood. I had to send a lot of quotes to my long-suffering girlfriend who a) does not watch this show but b) needs to tolerate it because I find it too funny to keep to myself. It was good enough to make me go out another book of the series since this was the only one my library carried.

[nneogram]

think about it — part one. get laid!

pairing: jaehyun x reader (f)

genre: enemies to lovers!au, college!au, fluff

word count: 8.4k

warnings: language, mentions of sex but not really (oc keeps being told to get laid “emotionally” idk), jungwoo gets scolded about the importance of consent, jungwoo’s in a frat but not really but yes really, quick reminiscent phone call w/ bestie jungkook, oc has unhealthy studying habits but dw it gradually gets better from here

a/n: i’ll say it for all of us - FINALLY, an update on here. this is result of my own college shenanigans, stories from my friends, and far too many fantasies whilst in quarantine. jeni needs to lay off the k-dramas, sheesh. i’d also like to note that this is unedited! there may be a few grammar/spelling mistakes.

▸ playlist (to be linked later)

Your roommate claims that you need to, in the simplest terms, “Get laid.” You are vehemently against this proposal, despite her insistence and clarification.

“Emotionally. You need to get laid emotionally, Y/N,” Megan whines. That’s all she can do from where she is sitting, tucked safely away beneath the blankets on her bed. It’s cocoon-like, she’s explained to you before, “like being in the womb.” Safe. Secure. Warm. You think that if that was her cocoon, then Megan would emerge a butterfly. If you were in her place? You would emerge a moth.

“I don’t think any getting laid needs to be done, regardless of if it’s emotional or not.” You take another flashcard from your prepared deck. Strong Acids. HCl, HBr, HI… HClO4? A hiss leaves your lips when you flip the card over to see the answer. You were missing two more acids. You reluctantly place the card into the pile to review again, which sat next to a much smaller pile of correct cards. The goal for the morning was to move all the cards in the “wrong” pile to the “right” pile, but considering the size difference of the two stacks, that goal would not be achieved.

Megan’s sigh pulls you from your focus. “Dude. Do you see yourself right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you doing anything other than studying for the past two weeks. I’m going to ace this chem midterm and I’m not even in chem. I’m not even a STEM major.”

You frown. “Sorry. Was I being too loud? I can go-”

“No, don’t worry about me. This is about you. I’m concerned for you - you’ve been cooped up more these two weeks than you were in the entirety of fall quarter. Have you taken a break recently?”

“I slept for eight hours straight, I think that’s a good enough break?”

“No, like a real break. Away from studies and school and just doing something… I dunno, fun?”

You shake your head. The past few weeks had been nothing but relentless studying. In an effort to maintain your pristine GPA, you shoved aside what little downtime you allotted yourself in fall quarter to focus on school. It was the least you could do, considering that you were on track to apply to medical school at the end of your undergraduate career. You were only in your first year, so all of the other requirements for med school - clinic, shadowing, research, the works - were inapplicable for the time being. There wasn’t much to get you ahead other than your 4.0.

Megan knows this, but she also knows that you have little to no social life outside of the bare minimum. It’s an unspoken truth that the two of you being assigned as roommates was a blessing in disguise: your studious tendencies help motivate Megan to stay on task while Megan’s more laidback nature reminds you to take a breather sometimes. 

This was one of those times.

“I’m telling you,” Megan crawls over to the edge of her bed to get closer, “You should relax a bit. Just a teeny, tiny bit. Have some fun, live out your first year of college! Make some art, go to the gym, I dunno, step out of your comfort zone. Get laid!”

“You say that last one as if talking from experience,” you tease. 

What was the charge on sulfide again? Fuck, it was two minus. Another card goes into the “wrong” pile.

Megan scoffs. “Please. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and that was in middle school. The most we did was hold hands. Besides, we don’t need men… I just want one.” She mumbles this last part as an afterthought before returning her focus to you. “I think getting a boyfriend would be a great distraction for you.”

You gawk at your roommate, eyes flitting from her to your toppling stack of incorrectly answered cards and back to her. “Do you see this? I don’t need any distractions right now.”

“No, no, I - fuck. I got that all wrong, didn’t I.” Megan facepalms. “What I mean is maybe you should befriend some people, or find some kind of emotional outlet. As much as I pride myself on being your source of positivity, I’m not around all the time to tell you to take a break and relax. You tend to be hard on yourself, y’know?”

Your gaze once again travels to your flashcards, their amount of use prominent in the worn-down corners and smudged ink. “I guess…”

There’s a smile of satisfaction on Megan’s face. “Think about it,” she concludes, then crawls back to her cocoon of blankets to take a nap.

--

The gloom of the rainy weather hits most forcefully in January. With the merriment of the holiday season behind you, it seems there is nothing ahead but cold, and rain, and emptiness. Only so many mugs of hot chocolate could keep your heart warm, and it wasn’t even the good type of hot chocolate - it was the powdery stuff that you mixed in with your lukewarm water because the water kettle you brought with you to the dorm was buggy and never fully heated up a pot of water. 

Yeah, you could buy yourself a cup of cocoa from the coffee shop on campus, but as the college kid stereotype proved, you were broke. So you settle for your half-assed attempt at a comfort drink, taking extra effort to stir the dregs that tend to settle at the bottom of your styrofoam cup.

“So you need to get laid?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the phone.

You sigh. For getting into one of the most prestigious universities in the country, Jungkook lacked the ability to draw proper conclusions from given information. He clearly hadn’t paid attention to your five minute spiel on your deteriorating motivation for life and your roommate’s unusual suggestion. “No,” you begin slowly, because if you didn’t control yourself you were going to get annoyed quickly, “I do not need to get laid.”

It’s dusk, around that time of the evening where the world slows down as the sky is painted a myriad of pinks, purples, and oranges. Even in January the sunsets in your college town never failed to astonish you. However, it’s also the time of the day when loneliness hits you most, and for a fraction of a moment you get homesick and usually end up calling someone from home. In this case, you end up contacting a close friend - though you’re beginning to question Jungkook’s title as a close friend, considering he completely missed the point of your rant.

“Well it sure sounds like it,” Jungkook refutes. There’s a loud crunching noise on the other end of the call, and you have to bring the phone away from your ear as the crackling continues. You know for a fact that Jungkook has bitten into a chip, most likely the barbecue ones he always had on hand. The audacity to snack on junk food in the middle of a conversation about your existential crisis - you sometimes wonder how you and Jungkook became friends in high school. 

Then again, you were on the other end slurping the remnants of your hot cocoa. Maybe there was something going for the two of you.

“Think about it.” You’re reminded of that afternoon when Megan said the exact same thing. “You’re unmotivated. Why? Because you’re lonely. How do we fix that? You need to get laid-”

“-Emotionally. Emotionally laid-”

“-Yeah yeah, same difference. They go hand in hand,” Jungkook brushes off. “The point still stands. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

You hesitate to answer. “I’ve never been in a relationship,” you mumble.

“I couldn’t hear you. What?”

“I said I’ve never been in a relationship,” you repeat with a sigh.

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting this is a phone call and not an in-person conversation where Jungkook can see you. Students begin to flood the sidewalks outside of the dorms, likely the last wave of students returning for their later classes. A girl - Megan, you realize after squinting - waves at you from across the street. You wave back, gesturing to her that you’re on a call. She nods and goes on her way to the dorm. 

You return your focus to the call. “No, not kidding.”

“I’m taking that lapse of silence as you actually having to think about it.” You roll your eyes, another gesture that Jungkook cannot see. “How? You’re telling me all four years of high school you never got with someone? Not even a fling? Not even that weird ‘talking’ phase kids do these days? What have you been doing all this time?”

Your mind immediately goes back to your high school graduation. “Valedictorian, weighted GPA of 4.8, Y/N Y/L/N, attending…” You remember the smile on your face as the principal handed you your diploma. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, the pride and joy in their eyes. That was when you knew it had all been worth it - no one but you, your parents, and your own pure ambition fueling your fire for the four years of high school.

Maybe the closest you got to any sort of romantic relationship was… with Jungkook.

You liked Jungkook before your brain could fully process it, denying it as platonic affection for the better half of three years as he took you under his wing your freshman year. It was comforting to have someone older than you help you navigate high school, but as much as you tried you could not view Jungkook as an older brother as he so claimed to be.

Of course, nothing was ever to happen. Jeon Jungkook was a boy entirely out of your league - star student, star athlete, poster child for all things good and right in the world - but most importantly, he was your closest friend. It was this label that helped set a boundary for your affections, and your crush became more of a pastime to delve into when you wanted a break from your studies. A fantasy that would never come true.

It wasn’t until he moved away for college your senior year that your crush subsided, hitting you like some sort of epiphany when he returned for his winter break. You had been beyond elated to reunite with your friend, but when you looked in his eyes it dawned on you that the weight of his words and actions no longer affected you as much as they did in the past.

That was your only stint with romance, and you were fine with it staying that way. Yeah, it was a fruitless endeavor, but look what you got out of it: a great friend! And only at the price of three years of unnecessary emotional turmoil and relentless unrequited pining. What a bargain.

“I’ve been busy with school, mainly.” It’s an insufficient summation of your high school experience, but it got the point across. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you and all - and I respect your decision to be single! Human rights and all that - but maybe it’s time for you to get into a relationship.”

You snap your fingers loudly enough to startle a group of guys walking past. You hope the grimace on your face is enough of an apology. “Oh my God, thanks Jungkook! Now that you mention it, let me just hit up one of the many young eligible bachelors pining over me, because there are so many right now.”

The feigned enthusiasm in your voice does not entertain Jungkook as much as you would have liked it to. “I’m sure there are, Y/N. There were plenty in high school.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” The playful smile you sport falls from your lips as he proceeds to dive into a list of names. 

“The one guy with the yellow hair… Yugyeom thought you were cute… Oh, Taehyung liked you too-”

“-Taehyung?” You gawk. “The Kim Taehyung. The guy two years older than you, editor of the yearbook and captain of the lacrosse team? The Kim Taehyung who was Prom King. Him?” It’s difficult to process a senior that you had regarded so highly had taken  interest in you in your lowly freshman year.

“Yeah, I know, right? I told him he was out of your league-”

“-Hey!”

“-But I said that out of jealousy. Heck, even I liked you at some point, Y/N. You’re quite a catch, just super oblivious.”

The reminder of your phone call with Jungkook consists of your disbelieving laughs and Jungkook’s reassurances that yes, that many people liked you in high school.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people interested in you. You just have to see it for yourself first.” Oddly prophetic for someone who claims he could survive solely off of energy drinks and barbecue chips, but considering he was studying at an Ivy League, he had to have some credibility. You end the phone call possibly more confused than you had been before the conversation. Swirling the contents of your cup absentmindedly, you realize you’ve drunk all of your hot cocoa. All that is left at the bottom of your cup are the clumps of cocoa powder that hadn’t been properly stirred. The dregs. Of course.

You relay your findings to Megan the next day over a lunch of poorly cooked rice and under seasoned chicken. “Food crafted by the gods to remind us of our inferiority,” as Megan liked to call it.

She claps her hands like a seal. “So I was right!” She cheers over a mouthful of food. “You need to get laid!”

You’re a bit too late to cover her mouth, her ambiguous words now out in the open for others nearby to hear and assume the wrong thing. Glancing around, you’re relieved to find that no one seemed to notice, save for one boy at a nearby table surrounded by some of his friends. He gives you a look but you refrain from making eye contact.

“I feel like you and I heard different stories just now.” You keep your voice down. “Meg, I just found out my high school crush - debatably, my first love - liked me at some point when I liked him. Do you know how big that is?”

“Do you know how big that isn’t?” Megan shoots back. “Because nothing came out of it. You never acted on your feelings. And something tells me that even if this John Cook-”

“-His name is Jungkook, but okay-”

“-Even if he had acted on his feelings, you would never believe it.” Ouch. She really went for your lack of self-esteem right there, and that shit hurted. Regardless, she’s right, and you both know it.

“You know when we say this, we’re not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Megan clarifies. “I’m not saying you should get dicked down by the first guy who gives you attention, but wouldn’t it be nice to let someone - someone who genuinely cares for you - to let them into that dark and twisty mind of yours? God knows what’s going on up there.” She gestures to your forehead with her spoon.

Brushing aside Megan’s crude wording near the beginning, you’re at a loss for words. Unsure of how to respond, you mumble, “But there’s no one like that in my life. Other than you, that is.”

“Because you never let anyone close enough to truly know you. Just…” she pops another spoonful of rice into her mouth, “Just think about it.”

-- 

D-1 until your midterm. Nomenclature and ionic charges are now extremely familiar to you, having taken the spot from Megan as Number One Friend. And yet, you still haven’t successfully completed your flashcards.

Strong Acids. You suck in a deep breath, swerving in between groups of people as you make your way to the cafe. Walking quickly with your head down as the sure fire way of getting to any destination as quickly as possible. Okay Y/N, you got this… HCl, HBr, HI, HClO4… HNO3? You flip the card over and hiss. You were missing one more response. You truly hated it here.

The cafe is bustling with students on their laptops and scribbling away in notebooks, all likely studying for their respective exams. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans pervades the entirety of the interior, drawing you further inward until you’re standing at the cashier. 

“One tall vanilla latte, please.” You hand the girl behind the counter your money and stand aside to let the next person in line order. Once your order is called, you grab your drink - Ah, nothing like a fresh cup of capitalism to revitalize your motivation to study - and search for a place to sit. As if by the grace of God, someone leaves their seat at the barstools just as you turn around. Beautiful.

“Excuse me,” you tap the shoulder of one of the people next to the open seat. “Is this seat taken?” He shakes his head no, and you take that as your signal to sit.

You find yourself sandwiched between two young men, each immersed in their own studies. The one to your right, the one you had talked to briefly, appears to want no further interruptions, both earbuds in his ears. The one to your left never turned around to begin with, head down as he types away at his laptop. All you can make out are his broad shoulders in a brown leather jacket and a mop of strawberry blond hair. An interesting choice of hair color, but you weren’t one to judge. He’s nodding his head to some tune, and it’s only then you realize he has one earbud in. You wonder what kind of music a cute man like himself would listen to -

Get a hold of yourself, Y/N, you chastise yourself for showing sudden interest in a complete stranger. The day before your midterm at that - there was no space in your head for an unknown young man who was probably good looking, too - No! Focus. Flashcards. You fumble in your jacket pocket for your index cards.

Chemistry nomenclature, round fifty-six.

As you’re reviewing, you overhear the conversation proceeding next you with the cute guy and a girl. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The familiar words make you think of mere moments before when you were asking the same thing.

“It isn’t, but… you can’t sit there.”

Huh? 

“I’m sorry?” The girl seems to mirror your confusion.

“You can’t sit here. I’m sorry.”

“But someone else can?”

Your flashcards go ignored as you choose to eavesdrop on the full conversation. The man stalls, looking at the girl up and down. “... Yeah, maybe.”

Trying your best to not draw attention to yourself, you turn your head in slow, languid movements to look around. Was anyone else seeing this? Hearing this? Were you the next unsuspecting victim on an episode of What Would You Do? You were half expecting a game show host to step out and introduce himself at any moment. Y/N, you’ve just been Punk’d! 

Unfortunately (or fortunately, you couldn’t decide which scenario was better), no game show host steps out from behind a curtain, and it sinks in that this guy wasn’t joking. He was intent on not letting this girl sit next to him.

“Look,” the girl runs a hand through her hair, a habit of frustration, maybe. “I really need a place to sit and work on things, and this seat is open. That, and it’s a public space. So if you’ll excuse me-”

The young man easily lifts his backpack from his chair with one hand and places it in the open seat. “There. It’s taken now. Sorry.”

The girl’s eyes widen, and you can only imagine what your face looks like right now. You’re in just as much shock as she is. 

You scoff, and this time you don’t care if he hears. And he does: the stranger finally turns around in his seat to reveal an extremely attractive face. Chiseled jawline, deep brooding eyes, dimples even when he was scowling. You freeze and your breath hitches in your throat. It’s a shame he had to go and open his mouth.

“Excuse me,” you cut in sweetly, making a point to only make eye contact with the girl. “You can sit here. I’m about to leave.”

The girl’s eyes go wide at the addition of a third party. “Oh, no, you don’t have to! Thank you so much though.”

You shove your flashcards into your backpack and stand up from the seat. “No no, I insist, it’s fine. Besides, I didn’t want to sit there anymore.” Only then do you shoot a glare at the young man. “I couldn’t focus.”

Judging by the way the girl eyes the strawberry blond next to you, you think she doesn’t want to sit there anymore, either. Nevertheless, a seat was a seat. She thanks you profusely and you head out the doors and down the path to return to the dorms. 

Naturally your mind drifts back to the stranger. Who was he to have so much pride as to deny a seat to someone he didn’t know? A seat that wasn’t his, either? The thought that people like him exist irks you.

He was so good-looking, too, your subconscious proceeds to remind you. 

But alas, a jerk was a jerk, and at the end of the day you had far more important things to worry about than an indecent stranger whom you doubt you would see again. More important things such as -

Your phone rings with an alarm notifying you of your next scheduled event: Final Review B4 Exam! You sigh. Looks like it was back to the books (and flashcards) for you for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t hit you until you crash land into your desk chair: in your anger-fueled exit from the cafe, you had completely forgotten your barely touched vanilla latte sitting at the barstool counter. At this point you’re ready to tear your hair out at the roots. You’re five dollars and one fresh cup of caffeinated capitalism short for the night’s study session. You really hated it here.

If Megan were here, she would whip you into shape real fast, shouting at you that you’re a “Bad Bitch!” or some other expletive motivation that would comfort you. Except Megan isn’t here, attending some kind of club meeting, leaving you alone in the dorm. Another sigh escapes your lips and you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling. 

Maybe, just maybe, you needed to follow through on this whole “getting emotionally laid” thing.

--

The midterm you had so diligently studied for was a success. Inorganic Chemistry A5 didn’t know what was coming when you rolled up with your beloved flashcards - all successfully completed, mind you - ready to fight. Needless to say you were able to enter the weekend with no qualms. You now had much needed time to recuperate and as Megan had said before, to “take a break” (among other things you were not going to address anytime soon). 

Some students recovered from the trauma of frequent exams via partying, deciding it was better to be under the influence in order to get over their academic standing. Some would meet up with their friends, maybe gossip about the latest episode of the hottest reality TV show. In your case, you decide to binge watch as many k-dramas as humanly possible. While you preferably do so in the comfort of your bed, tonight Megan has taken authoritative control over the dorm room. Meaning, she had a psychology midterm the following Monday and needed to be able to focus on nothing but the role of the amygdala without the OST of whatever drama you were watching in the background. You know for a fact if you were in the room minding your own business Megan would ultimately get distracted and join you in your k-drama marathon. Thus you are thrown to the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back and your belongings stuffed into your backpack.

You take extra care to avoid the puddles forming on the sidewalks, the result of on and off rain throughout the day. There are noticeably less people outside, and you have a feeling that any building you choose to house yourself in will be quite the opposite, likely packed with students. 

After milling about campus for a few minutes, you finally settle down in the Student Community Center - a fancy name for yet another building on campus where students could lounge about and study slash socialize. As predicted, there are significantly more people crowded in the lobby area of the two-story building. Your boots squeak against the tiled floor as you make your way down an inconspicuous hallway. Tile turns to carpeting when you step into an almost empty study room. Only a handful of people are present in the room, scattered across the tables and couches. No one ever bothered to check the rooms at the very ends of the hallways - only those more dedicated to being unbothered ever made it that far - and you were grateful for this as you settled down at one of the open couches.

Hotel Del Luna is the show of choice for the evening, and you cuddle up to the armrest of the couch as you press Play. You had watched this one before, having been forced to do so with Jungkook at its release. Curse him and his admiration for IU - some of the ghost scenes kept you up at night the weeks after watching. You much preferred the more lighthearted slice-of-life k-dramas, but following your phone call with Jungkook you were drawn to the darker show. Call it nostalgia, call it an attempt to relive the happy memories of the past, call it denial of reality, whatever.

You’re two hours into your binge watch when you notice an unfamiliar presence at your side. A boy, and a breathtaking one at that. When he had joined you, you’re not sure, but you catch him glancing at your laptop screen every so often. He doesn’t stick out too much, black hair hidden beneath a black baseball cap and similarly monotone attire with a black hoodie that was definitely way too big for him. Yet no amount of nondescript clothing could cover up his impeccable bone structure. This man had a jawline and a nose bridge that were to die for, and although you haven’t made eye contact with the stranger you’re already feeling self-conscious. There’s no way in hell you’re initiating any sort of interaction with him.

But there’s no need to worry, because the stranger does it for you.

You’re on episode three when there’s a gasp from beside you. “Lee Jun-Ki!” You crane your neck to see the stranger leaning over to watch your laptop screen. The work in front of him - whatever that mess of hieroglyphs and symbols was - is completely forgotten as he scoots closer. 

It’s not until you lean a bit away from him that he realizes his actions. “Oh, sorry. I kinda needed a break from studying or else I was gonna lose it.” His ears turn a bright pink as he explains himself. “Is it okay if I watch with you?”

“Uh…” Now that your full attention is on him, you give the stranger a proper glance-over. He was indeed studying, some sort of language of shapes and numbers that was foreign to you sprawled across his notebook in a variety of colors. Other than the all black attire (which was reasonable for college - wasn’t everyone attending their own funeral during exams season?), he didn’t look too shady… “Sure.”

“Sweet.” He extends a hand to you, pulling back the ginormous sleeve that threatens to hang over his fingers. “My name’s Jungwoo.”

You tentatively take his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Are you a first year?”

You nod your head, and Jungwoo smiles. “Cool. Me too.” He moves back to his side of the couch, but quickly scoots back to sit directly beside you after he has shoved all of his work into his backpack. He settles beside you on the couch, slouching down similarly to you. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You crack a smile at the boy’s unabashed boldness. He immerses himself in the episode alongside you, clear adoration in his eyes whenever IU makes an appearance on screen. “You like IU, I take it?”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “Not half as much as one of my friends. He idolizes her. I just... look at her very respectfully.”

“Me too, actually,” you confess. “My friend forced me to watch with him. I usually watch happier things. My favorite is Weightlifting Fairy.”

Jungwoo’s eyes go wide. “I love Weightlifting Fairy!” His theatrical gasp attracts the attention of the few students nearby. This newfound information seems to make something click in Jungwoo’s head, because he wiggles all the more closer to you. “You’re quickly becoming my best friend, Y/N.”

“I’m a friend?” 

“Duh. This was established when you didn’t run away from me in fear when I was quite literally looking over your shoulder. And that’s happened before with other people. Twice.” He seems to feel the need to add in the last few details, much to your amusement. “Now shush. Lemme admire IU in peace.”

--

That interaction with Jungwoo is only the first of many, many more. While you’re the type to keep to yourself and not approach others, Jungwoo was the opposite. You’re only a bit surprised when he yells out your name from across the street a few days later, sprinting towards you with unbridled excitement on his face. The last time someone was that happy to see you was when your dog greeted you after returning home for the holidays.

“Good morning, Y/N! Where you headed? I have Material Sciences in an hour. I got time, so I’ll walk with you wherever you’re going!”

Much like your first encounter, you agree with some hesitance. Jungwoo seemed to not have a bad bone in his body, no ill intentions whatsoever. It was refreshing to be in the presence of someone who wasn’t already jaded by the world. 

As promised, Jungwoo walks with you to your destination, the coffeeshop, even waiting with you in the insufferably long line. You find out that Jungwoo is the same age as you, a Mechanical Engineering major, and is a part of some sort of club that allowed him to connect with upperclassmen of different majors but with similar interests.

“It’s called Nu Kappa Tau, everyone there’s really nice! I’ll bring you with me to the next social event.”

“Nu Kappa Tau?” You test out the syllables on your tongue. “Greek? Are you in... a fraternity?”

Your tone of voice insinuates something bad, and the way Jungwoo reacts quickly tells you he has a similar stance on the Greek life in college. That similar stance being that frat boys were vermin. “No, no no no no. It’s Greek, yes, but we are definitely not a fraternity. It’s more like… a social, cultural, and academic club?”

“Jungwoo. That’s exactly what a fraternity would say to make it seem like it’s not a fraternity.”

“Okay, but in this case we’re actually not a fraternity, I promise.” He tugs on your shirt sleeve and looks at you with pleading eyes. “You should come with me to the next event. It’ll be fun, and I’ll prove to you it’s not a fraternity. Please?”

You remain silent, eyes turning to the coffeshop’s menu. Even when your gaze is somewhere else you can sense the way Jungwoo is staring you down with those puppy dog eyes of his. This was what, the second time you were talking to him, and already he wanted to go to a social event with you? “I don’t know. You’re nice and all, but I’m not the type to warm up to people easily. I’ll have to hang out with you more first. No offense.”

Most people cower at your denials, retreat to more comfortable territory where there’s no fear of rejection. Jungwoo, however, beams at you. “None taken, Miss Y/N. You know why?” He pauses for dramatic effect, quirking an eyebrow in mischief. “Because that wasn’t a no.”

A few people in line crane their necks to peer at the two of you as a resonant smack rings out in the coffeeshop. 

“Ow - Y/N - Ow!” Jungwoo rubs at his upper arm. You know you didn’t hit him hard enough to elicit this sort of dramatic reaction, but it’s what he deserves. 

“You can’t use that logic, Jungwoo,” you scold, bag poised in the air ready for another attack. “The only means of consent is a yes. Say it with me. The only means of consent is a-”

“-Yes, yes, okay! I got it, I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize.”

--

Fast forward two weeks later, and you know Jungwoo a bit too well for your liking. Following your rejection of his offer, Jungwoo goes ahead and makes it a point to see you for at least an hour a day, weekends included, in order for you to “warm up to him.” Some days, it’s lunch shared in the cafeteria between classes. Other days it’s hours upon hours of studying together in the back of the library, you and Jungwoo taking shifts napping while the other crams for their classes. 

He forces - “heavily insists” - you to share your location with him on your phones, so it’s of no surprise to you when he starts showing up outside of your lecture halls after class. It’s when he’s walking you back from your last class of the day that you find that he lives a floor above you in the same building. Of course.

Dare you say it, it’s easy having Jungwoo in your life. He walks with you everywhere, always initiates conversation, and eats as many meals as possible with you - or as many as Megan allows. 

“Hey Y/N,” your roommate greets you with a warm smile which quickly turns into a steely glare when he acknowledges the young man standing by your side. “Ahem. Jungwoo.” 

If Jungwoo was a legitimate candidate for your mission of “getting laid,” Megan would be ecstatic. However, you explain to her that Jungwoo is nothing more than a friend, and suddenly Megan thinks he’s out to take her spot as Y/N’s Best Friend (insert trademark emoji here). 

“Megan, always a pleasure,” Jungwoo croons. If he’s perturbed by your roommate’s aloof greeting, he doesn’t show it, a smile growing on his face. Jungwoo turns to you. “See you at nine?”

You nod. “See you at nine. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jungwoo waves then walks down the hallway to the stairs. You wait until he’s out of sight to turn back to Megan, who has one eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on at nine?” She questions.

A defeated grin makes its way onto your lips. As much as you had been dreading what was to come, you couldn’t deny the excitement building up within you at the thought of something… new, for once in your life. “I’m going to my first party.”

--

Jungwoo, as promised, picks you up from your dorm room later that evening. He texts you an ominous message of i’m outside ur dorm lol for you to find him in the driver’s seat of a car far too expensive for any broke college student to own.

Hesitantly, you hop into the passenger seat and gingerly close the door. You’re not sure who he borrowed this from - or maybe it was a rental? - but you wanted to make sure you took no part in any damage fees he’d pay later. “I thought first years couldn’t have cars on campus.”

“I know. I’m a rule breaker, Y/N. I can’t be stopped… And maybe I borrowed it from a friend.”

Jungwoo insists on manning the aux, which you oblige to as you don’t trust your music taste to be liked by others. Something about the artist name Sergio Rachmaninov didn’t always hit well with the young folk these days. The queue starts up as he pulls out of the parking lot, a bass-boosted R&B song filling the expanse of the lush interior. 

“I’m going to warn you, this music queue is all over the place.” All over the place is correct, because after the R&B song finishes a ballad comes on, followed promptly by the song “Good Time” by Owl City. It’s a good song, a tolerable one, but after the second run, and third run, and even a fourth run you can’t help but wonder if the queue is glitching.

“Jungwoo.” He grunts in response. “Did you mean to put this song on loop?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? It helps me focus.”

You’re really questioning the sanity of the man behind the wheel.

Four and a half plays of “Good Time” (or fifteen minutes) later, you and Jungwoo arrive at your destination.

You audibly gulp. “Jungwoo. You are so in a frat.”

“No I’m not!” The man whines. “I swear!”

You and Jungwoo must not be looking at the same house, because the one you’re looking at is nothing less than a mansion: two stories, covering a wide expanse of vivid green lawn, with pillars on either side of the double-door front entry. Windows line the top and bottom floors, and hedges line the cobblestone walkway in the front. It looks like something out of a Southern period drama with the Victorian, colonial style architecture.

“You sure?” You can’t break your gaze away from the three enormous Greek letters placed above the entryway. “‘Cause no normal house emblazons the symbols of their group name across the front like that.”

As soon as you step foot in the door, you regret your decision to come. “Kim, I think I left something in the car-” 

You’re rudely interrupted by Jungwoo swinging an arm over your shoulder a bit too harshly. 

“Relax,” he reassures you. “My friends don’t bite. Only I do that.” You’re given no time to question that statement before he leads you further into the house.

If there’s one thing you can count on with Jungwoo, it’s his ability to socialize. It seems he knows everyone in the house, proven to you by the way he either nods his head or does a handshake with every individual present. He leads you to the kitchen where two guys are conversing, one looking like an overgrown man child and the other looking like… well, an actual child.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up,” the much taller boy croons. “And he brought a friend.”

“Johnny, this is Y/N. Y/N, Johnny. He’s in his fourth year.” You shake hands with Johnny, who grins at you. He seems nice, other than the fact that he continues to stare at you through the duration of the handshake. Perplexed, you refuse to break his gaze.

Johnny is the first to look away, turning immediately to Jungwoo. “Oh, I like her. No one has yet to win my staring contest this year, other than you, Y/N. Congratulations.”

You force a laugh. “Thanks?”

Jungwoo steers you to the second boy, this one noticeably shorter - or was he still tall? Anyone standing next to Johnny seemed to be dwarfed in his presence - with dyed blond hair. He has a cap over his head and circle glasses, and you can’t help but think he looks awfully young to be at a frat-but-not-really house party.

“And this is Mark. He’s a fellow first year, but he’s our baby.” Jungwoo coos the last word, making Mark huff. Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, Jungwoo explains, “He was born in 1999, so we have a good year on him.”

You click your tongue. Ah, that explains why he looks so young. You deem Mark to be far more approachable than Johnny and shake the young boy’s hand eagerly.

“Where’s Peaches?” Jungwoo asks Johnny. The older boy shrugs. 

“I dunno. Not my problem.”

“Oh, I don’t think Jaehyun’s coming,” Mark cuts in. “Texted me saying something came up. Something about a paper due. Wait. Didn’t you take his car?” He points to Jungwoo, who shrugs with a look of Whoops, sorry on his face.

Johnny groans. “Oh, shoot. That’s right. We have a paper due tomorrow morning.” As quickly as the realization hits him, the worry is gone. “Eh. It’ll be fine.”

The three boys converse a bit longer, exchanging pleasantries and whatnot, before you and Jungwoo make your departure. The most that comes out of your mouth are feeble courtesy laughs and the occasional sarcastic quip to keep Jungwoo’s chaotic energy at bay. You wait until Jungwoo’s led you away to voice your thoughts. “What kind of name is Peaches?” You repeat.

“Right. One of the upperclassmen got the nickname because he smelled like them his first day of recruitment. Apparently he lives near a peach tree orchard or something. Therefore, he’s Peach Boy.”

You make a mental note of the phrase recruitment your friend uses. One day, you’ll compile a long enough list of evidence proving Nu Kappa Tau was a frat, and the word recruitment was one of them. “So what’s your nickname then?”

“Me? I’m not technically initiated yet,” - did this man use the word initiated? Yet another piece of evidence for the fraternity agenda - “but if I had to choose…” Jungwoo pauses and drums his fingers against his chin. “I’m Cheese Boy.”

You pause, letting his name sink in. The laughter bubbles up within you, threatening to spill out in a snort. It instead comes out as a strong exhale through your nose.

“Whatever, Cheese Boy,” you tease. “How much longer until I can go home?”

--

The next time you see the boys of Nu Kappa Tau is when Jungwoo drags you to yet another one of their events but a few days later. “This one’s right up your alley,” he insists. He also bribes you with the promise of buying your lunch, and the kabob food truck was on campus today, meaning you were eating well this afternoon. Making an appearance at his frat was but a small price to pay for your beloved meal of choice.

Jungwoo’s right - this event is up your alley, because you recognize the route he takes across campus. “The library?”

He nods. “NKT Study Hall.”

As you enter the building Jungwoo pulls you down an unfamiliar corridor then up a flight of stairs. An unspoken farewell is bid to your usual study spot by the second floor window as you continue up, up, up, until finally stopping at the fifth floor where no more stairs remain. You didn’t realize the library went up that high, and you probably frequented the building more than all of the boys combined - not that you knew any of the Kappa Tau boys yet.

Though they do look extremely threatening now that you’re standing in front of them.

Jungwoo brings you to stand in front of him. “Men and Mark Lee-” (“Hey!” Mark complains,) “-I introduce to you my partner in crime, Y/N.”

You give a feeble smile to the young men surrounding the table. You recognize a few of them from the party, Johnny and Mark being the only ones you can put a name to. The two wave to you and you feel a little more welcomed. Aside from the duo, everyone else is unfamiliar, giving you emotionless head nods and scowls.

“Y/N, you know Johnny and Mark, over there’s Lucas, and that’s Sicheng.” You nod at the two of them, who seem nice enough. The latter actually gives you a soft smile, so you consider that a win in your book. “And over at that table is Doyoung, Ten… You know what? I’ll just introduce you to everyone later. Have a seat.”

You trust your friend to guide you to the safest open seat, directly across from another empty chair at one end of the long table. Immediately you pull out your biology notebook and pens, hunkering down and getting to work without further notice. If you couldn’t feel welcomed by the boys at the table, you could at least get some decent studying done. You felt far more familiar with the speciation concepts in front of you than the actual human beings next to you. You allow your head to burrow itself closer to your notebook, dwelling in this small comfort in an environment of unfamiliarities.

The moment of peace doesn’t last long.

“Peaches!” Johnny’s bellowing voice makes you jump in your seat, your beloved biology notes neglected.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Huh. You’ve heard that voice before. You can’t place where you know it from, but it causes a sneer to form on your face. Glancing up from your notes you can’t help the strangled gasp that leaves your lips.

It’s him. You’d recognize that faded pink hair and smugly complacent upturn of lips anywhere. That, and he’s holding a coffee cup that violently catapults you back to the incident from a few weeks ago in the coffee shop. You left your perfectly good vanilla latte behind because he made you mad, that jerk.

“Oh, Jaehyun.” Jungwoo leads the man to the open seat across from you. Pointing to you, he says, “This is Peaches - I mean, Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is-”

“-Y/N, right?” Jaehyun interrupts with a grin. You lower your eyes at the dimple that forms when he smiles. “I believe we’ve met before.”

Jungwoo looks from your displeased state to Jaehyun’s smug smirk. “Uh, okay. Cool. Well then. I’m gonna go ahead and grab lunch, I’ll be right back.” You watch as Jungwoo beckons Johnny and Mark to join him, the only three familiar faces present at the table now leaving.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, arms moving to rest behind his head. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”

You weigh your options. You could recognize that the two of you have indeed met before, and try to get past your differences. Or, you could refuse to acknowledge Jaehyun’s presence a mere few feet across from you at the table and try your best to study until Jungwoo returned with your food, at which point you would then flee the scene as fast as your non-athlete self could. Only one of these outcomes enticed you, and it wasn’t the one that involved talking. 

“So, Y/N,” Jaehyun leans forward. The width of the table is enough to keep him at a safe distance from you, yet he’s still close enough to invade your personal space somehow. It’s suffocating, how whatever musky cologne he’s wearing wafts over to you - he smells nothing like peaches. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine.” You keep your eyes glued to your biology notes. Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species become isolated from one another due to-

“Aw, just fine? That’s it?” His voice is low. With Jungwoo, Johnny, and Mark out getting food, you’ve been isolated at one end of the table with Jaehyun. Lucas and Sicheng are present as well, but both seem to be deeply immersed in their own studies. It’s just the two of you.

“Yep.” Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species-

“C’mon, I’m sure someone like you has had at least one interesting thing happen today.”

Allopatric Speciation occurs when - Someone like you? What was that supposed to mean? You sigh, but refuse to look up from your notes. Allopatric Speciation-

“Are you a first year? I took that class last year. If you ever want notes or something-” Jaehyun jumps a little when you slam the notebook shut. Good. Serves him right.

“I don’t like you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the end of his lips. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

He leans in by resting his forearms on the table, leveling his gaze with yours. “I don’t think you do.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re distracting me.”

Jungwoo comes back at the most opportune time, wielding a kabob skewer in each hand - one untouched and the other halfway eaten. “One chicken kabob for Y/N.”

Deeming the conversation with Jaehyun at its end, you stand up from your seat and grab your backpack from the table. Jaehyun fixes you with an intense gaze but remains silent. Whether he was sizing you up or not you didn’t care.

The tension is palpable at the table, and Jungwoo clears his throat. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“No,” you respond quickly. Grabbing your food from Jungwoo, you give him an apologetic smile. “Something came up. I gotta go. Sorry, Kim. See you tomorrow?”

You despise this man. You don’t even know Jaehyun - he is nothing but a familiar stranger - but you despise him. Him and his ethereal appearance. Why were the terrible ones always the ones blessed with above average looks? Why’d he have to open his mouth?

“Wait.” You do not, in fact, wait, but instead continue marching forward. It’s not until the figure stands right in front of you do you stop. It’s Jaehyun. Holding your biology notebook in the air. “Don’t want to leave anything behind. Like last time, right?”

The last few words out of his mouth have your blood boiling and your fists clenching at your sides. That explained the foreign lightness of the bag on your shoulder.

“Oh, right, the vanilla latte.” You fake a cordial laugh. “You mean the time I was so desperate to get away from your insufferable presence that I left behind a perfectly good coffee? The time when you treated that girl as if she wasn’t a human being? That time you couldn’t be a decent enough human being that you were that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know?” 

Jaehyun stands before you with an astonished smile and a hand frozen in the air. You pluck the notebook out of his grasp and stride away before he has a chance to respond.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Jaehyun calls.

“I’ll see you around my ass,” you mutter under your breath. You’re willing to go out of your way to avoid interactions with Jaehyun, no matter what it takes.

a/n 2: hope you enjoyed part one of this series! it’s been a while since i last posted a fic on here so i apologize for my rusty writing skills. part 2 is projected to be posted in one week from now, but that’s tentative. we’ll see where life takes me and if i have the capacity to post in a week from now. in the meantime: stay safe! 💕

[lesbian-vmin]

Idols and Dating - Responding to Arguments about my Taetae Bday Live Post

Yep. I’m going to talk about this because the topic is something that a lot of people seem to get offended over. This isn’t me trying to hurt anyone’s feelings, it’s just me trying to bring you guys to the realistic idea that yes. Idols do date. And yes. That means BTS could be dating. And I’m going to be talking about an infinite number of possibilities here, so let’s get into it shall we?

I’m going to be addressing counter arguments that I’ve seen people use against them dating, or bringing s/o’s to certain areas. (BELOW THE CUT)

Do you think they have time to date????

Maybe not, really. But also, yes? People working in the medical field work pretty hectic schedules right? Let’s look at doctors, specifically. Especially those who started their career path straight out of high school. The amount of hours it takes them to study and do homework in pre-med alone takes a lot of time. Then they have to go medical school and residency programs, which also leave them very few hours in their day. Once actually earning their M.D. certificate, they can get a job working in a hospital or clinic. Doctors who work in the hospital, especially those that work in areas that require them to be on call and have a potential of bringing them into the emergency or operating rooms, have very little time. Busy schedules. Hectic. Busy schedules. Are you trying to tell me that no doctor who went straight on their career path straight out of high school could possibly have a relationship and get married because they don’t have time? People make time for relationships. Many of my friends from university are doctors, and all are married now.

My team works twelve hour shifts every time we work, and we work every other weekend. Even so, my analysts still find time to date people outside of the team.

But, they travel. That’s different!

Is it now? Yes. It is true that they do travel. Still doesn’t make it impossible for them to have a relationship, or have you forgotten that this is the 21st century? Even if they don’t spend a lot of time in their home country (who’s to say their s/o would even be from their home country?), it doesn’t prevent them from having a relationship. It probably makes it more difficult, but I’m sure they have many people’s numbers stored in their phones, and they talk to people outside of the group all the time. There’s bound to be a romantic interest somewhere in their list of contacts.

Also, they have friends. How can you say they don’t have time for romance, but have time for friendship? Oh yeah. Because people on this site really devalue friendships, so I’m guessing those that use this and the “no time” excuse think that friendships require less effort than relationships. No. It’s a different type of effort, but not less.

I also know a lot of people with traveling jobs that keep them from seeing their family for 12 to 16 weeks at a time (one of my friend’s dads works on the river, so he’s usually gone for months at a time), yet manage to find love, get married, and have kids. Yes. All while working that job.

In regards to Taehyung having an s/o behind the camera, do you know how hard they try to keep relationships private? Why would they risk bringing an s/o to the company?

I am so glad you asked. So let’s talk about what it means to have an s/o. First of all, the term s/o is gender neutral, and it gives you no more information. If you assume we’re talking about a female s/o, then you need to get out of your head a little. Because, while I’m not saying that a possible for s/o for Taehyung can only be a male, people shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the possibility. Especially not when Taehyung has made several, very open claims, about...how do I say this? Sexuality/his sexuality/how he views sexuality. I’m not saying him wanting to sing a romantic duet with a male or him writing lyrics in Sweet Night that sound very much like a same-sex love interest (but also...it could be me drawing that conclusion myself, so) is him telling us subtly that he’s gay. But people shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the possibility. Because he could be. And we need to give him support either way. If he’s ever confirmed to have a girlfriends, then great! Doesn’t mean that he’s straight because he could still be bisexual/pansexual - then the things mentioned above are still relevant, but okay.

Sure, I can agree. Bringing a female around the company might raise suspicion. But. Bringing a male to the company wouldn’t. Why? Because when people see two men together, they jump on the “they’re friends” train really quick. Have you ever noticed that literally every dating rumor (that sticks) about idols is always a straight couple dating rumor? They see two male idols hanging out, and they’re like. “Hey look! Did you guys know X and Z were friends?” So...yeah. Bringing a girlfriend to the company might be suspicious. But a boyfriend? Not so much. And yes. I’m sure they, themselves, would be aware of the difference.

There are gay idols. They are not openly gay, but they exist. It’s rather unfortunate that they can’t be openly because representation does fucking matter, and the gay youth (and not youth) in Korea could really fucking use it. And beyond them just being representation for society, it’d be nice for them if they could come out. I know that idols face scrutiny when they’re in straight relationships, but we all know it would be worse for them if they were in gay relationships. Or maybe we don’t all know. But we LGBT friends know. Because it would be worse if a confirmed relationship turned out to be a gay one.

(EDIT: And maybe people wouldn’t ask gay idols about dating their band mates and “their ideal boy/girl” because they’d know that they’re gay. Of course, some (maybe unintentionally) offensive questions might come from it, but just them being able to come out at first would be a step in the right direction.)

Also, how many people actually stalk them around the company doors and would see them entering with someone? The answer to this might actually shock me because I don’t keep up with stalker-released content from BTS. I refuse. But I’m pretty sure the company has some kind of security to keep stalkers away from the building if it ever becomes an issue.

Bringing an s/o to the company? Cont.

Also. Me thinking (not just because of his bday live) that Taehyung has an s/o isn’t me saying that I don’t think Jimin isn’t a possible option for who that person would be. So...quite frankly. Would Taehyung bring his s/o to the company? Um...if it was Jimin? Yeah??? Like? It wouldn’t be suspicious. By any means. At all. And then all the arguments about them having a schedule/working go right out the window because....it’s Jimin???? (Or someone else he works with.)

Yes. People can date people on their teams. I have analysts at work who are dating each other. We allow it because they’re equals. I couldn’t date one of my analysts, but that’s different. I’m their supervisor. There are places with their own policies on dating co-workers (it’s strictly forbidden to date someone in the same department as you in many places, regardless if you are equals or not), but we don’t know BH’s policy.

We may never have had any same-sex same-group official couple dating news, but we have had dating news of (two, that I know of) straight couples dating someone from their own company. BH / TY from SM and HA / ED from Cube. There are probably more.

But there is Tiger / YMR who are a straight couple in the same group and married. They were married before the group was formed, but still. Co-ed groups aren’t very common, so it’s hard to have many examples like this.

Someone in the group?

Well, because I’m a VM blogger, let me go ahead and say that Tae’s s/o being Jimin smacks down all of these arguments.

No time? That’s fine. They work together and see each other all the time. They would only have to differentiate between their workship and relationships.

It needs to be kept secret? That’s fine. Shipping is something that people do, but no one honestly expects them to actually be in a relationship.

Bringing them to the company? Um. Yeah. They both work there.

So. Yeah. My point that Jimin being the s/o (and behind the camera) still stands.

(EDIT: But I’m not saying that Jimin was behind the camera. Because it could have been someone else, and not an s/o. Taehyung was in a good mood because it was his birthday, and he was talking to the fans. So that’s a possible reason as to why he’s giddy and happy. Also, I’ve seen him get like that with Jimin, and the other members. And, hell, even Tannie. So..)

I’m not trying to prove that Jimin is Taehyung’s s/o by any means. I’m just talking about reasons why I think it’s funny that everyone is so quick to dismiss the possibility.

Yes. In my post about Taehyung “obviously being in love” because of how giddy and happy he was during his live was a joke. I was making fun of people who say “he’s obviously in love” because they’re smiley and happy and giddy.

But the idea of Taehyung having an s/o still stands. Because he writes these romantic lyrics, and it’s possible that they’re about someone he’s currently in love with and dating.

Him writing romantic lyrics also doesn’t confirm he’s in a relationship. Because you can write about the feeling of being in love without ever having been in love (because there are all sorts of existing lyrics and novels and poems about love to draw inspiration from) or without currently being in love, but knowing it felt like because you were before.

Also. I just wanna say. Being “in love” is a feeling that people can get beyond romantic relationships. Romance isn’t the only thing that can bring those feelings out of us. Especially for those who feel emotions more strongly and appreciate more things than just romance.

This post is a mess, but I think it pretty much covers what I wanted to say.

[rosexknight]

@arceusfan493 Here’s that Dragon Age 2 rant you wanted.

Because I am still not over it.

Under the Read More, I have for you: - Lore Context - How Dragon Age 2 is Amazing - How it Hurt Me Enjoy~!

Oh yeah and major spoiler warning for Dragon Age 2 and minor spoiler warning for Dragon Age Origins and Awakening.

Lore Context ((Note: It is way more in-depth than this, I am simplifying ALOT))

Okay so. In the Dragon Age universe, magic is seen as super dangerous, because mages and those who have magical abilities are connected what is called the Fade, which is like a world that mirrors ours. It is also known as the Dream World, and every race but dwarves dream, but Mages specifically are connected to it in a way that lets them manipulate it for magic. In the Fade there are spirits and demons that can be brought into the real world by a mage or take over a mage’s body to enter our world. When this happens the mage becomes what is called an “Abomination” and loses all semblance of themselves. Demons are dangerous, spirits not so much, and demons are actually just spirits that have been twisted from their original purpose, usually by desire/pride/rage/etc. Spirits are the embodiment of virtues, where as demons are usually the embodiment of sins. There’s also Blood Magic which is hella powerful but corrupting and usually links back to demons.

There is also some religious reasons why magic is so feared, as it’s basically said that mages that got too close to God caused all the bad shit happening in the world (specifically a literal and metaphorical plague called the Blight) and also there are political reasons since there is a country/kingdom that’s all mage-run and it’s not great.

So for the protection of all the non-mages, they lock all mages in these towers called Circles so that they can study, hone their skills, etc. But they're essentially prisons, and the mages are watched over by Templars, which are like anti-magic paladins. And all this is ran by the church called the Chantry (there's a shit ton of lore and all these fears are linked back to that religion I mentioned earlier.) In order to become full mages, you have to pass a test where they put you against a demon in the Fade to prove you can handle your magic. If you fail you become an abomination. If the Circle thinks you will fail this test, they will (literally) brand you Tranquil, which cuts off a mage from the Fade but ALSO makes them 100% emotionless. Also if you get too good, they might also brand you a Blood Mage and kill you anyway.

Also, there is no escape. You can try to escape, but when you come to the Circle, the Chantry takes your blood and puts it in a vial. They then use this blood to track you down if you slip away.

Now, in the games we have seen that SOMETIMES the Circles are not that bad. Mages can get special permission to live outside the Circles as long as they can get jobs. Some mages are perfectly content there, while others aren’t. The mages might be governed by the Chantry and Templars but usually each Circle is kind of given its own freedoms to have its own politics, etc. HOWEVER, whether or not you're put in a good Circle is a toss-up, completely dependent on where you are, who is in charge, etc. And also the Templars can call upon the Right of Annulment if they feel the things in the tower are getting out of control, which essentially nukes the tower and destroys it and all the mages. OH and you are sent to the Circles when your magic starts manifesting (between the ages of 4-14) with no say from you or your family. Just “Oh you got magic? Time to lock you in this tower.” SO needless to say, things between Mages and Templars are fucking tense, and the game is not shy about giving this whole thing a prison feel. The mages are very obviously the oppressed class here (elves are also oppressed but in a different way and I’m not going into that.)

Also you can play as a mage in-game, which makes this all hit especially home if you do since you as the player both see and experience it.

OKAY that should be all the lore context you need.

How Dragon Age 2 is Amazing

DA2 takes place in a town with one of the bad Circles. The Commander of the Templars, Meredith, has basically gone insane. She’s become paranoid, and is turning mages Tranquil (illegally btw because we know that she turns some Tranquil even after they passed that test I mentioned earlier,) or killing them left and right. However, in conjunction to that, there's ALOT of shit that happens that are all mages fault. Blood magic, demons, your mom (basically the only family you have left at that point btw) gets killed by a crazy necromancer, etc.

So it puts you, the player and your PC Hawke, in this situation where you clearly see magic is HELLA DANGEROUS, but you also see that the mages are being pushed too hard by the Templars and are taking drastic measures to escape or fight back. And again, it hits doubly hard if you play as a mage. The game also takes place over the span of 7 years, so you see it all build up and get worse and worse as you play.

So it presents the conundrum: Do all mages suck or is it because of what is happening? It's fucking brilliant. Especially coming from the first game, Origins, where you see a good Tower that's super chill until one crazy mage fucks it up. You see what horrors magic can bring but also see and hear how crazy Templars can be when they face such horrors (this is clear with both Meredith herself AND a recurring character named Cullen but if I talk about him we’ll be here all day.)

Anyway, point is there's clearly no right answer to which side is right or wrong, and the game builds up on it alot. It gives you all the perspectives with Meredith, the paranoid Templar Commander, Orsino, the leader of the Circle who is just trying to keep the peace and defend the mages, and the Grand Cleric in the Chantry Elthina, who refuses to take a side even though she has the power to basically end it all. Your companions also have opinions on all of it as it unfolds. And it puts you right in the middle of it all. And you experience all of it.

Like I said, fucking brilliant.

How it Hurt Me

One of your companions is Anders, who is a mage that has run away from the Circle you know of from Origins. He's a healer that is helping people from an underground (free) clinic, and has also been helping mages escape the city. He's all about freedom for mages, and has fused with a Justice spirit that he became friends with. The spirit saw the injustice that was happening to the mages and wanted to further help. Both Anders and Justice are from Dragon Age Awakening, which comes after Origins. They are companions in that game and you see how their friendship grows and how they come to be able to help each other.

Now I LOVED Anders and Justice in Awakening. I was ALL FOR seeing them again seeing how the years had changed them, and helping them. I also played as a mage in both games so I was also all for mage freedom. It’s also worth noting that in Awakening you learn the Circle was NOT kind to Anders. He’s a free spirit, a lover not a fighter, and he was suffocated. He tried to escape like 7 times and after the last one they put him IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT FOR A FUCKING YEAR. He was 100% expecting to be killed every time he was caught. “Oh but couldn’t he have used those methods you mentioned earlier to live outside the Circle?” you may ask. And like, yeah maybe. But also...No one should have to do that?

I romanced Anders because I adore him. He’s a bit of a broody boy in DA2 that tries to push you away, but he’s hella sweet and supportive. Funny. Small hint of danger with Justice. He's great. And it was great to romance him in DA2 since I was playing Awakening going “No please why can I not romance YOU?”

Well throughout the game you see that due to the anger Anders has, Justice is getting morphed into something more akin to a spirit of Vengeance as things are pushed more, and that Anders is having trouble controlling him. Depending on what route you take with the romance, he and Justice can either fuse into something like only one being, or Justice can be turned fully into a demon of Vengeance. Both of these are heavily implied more than confirmed, so it’s kind of ambiguous, but the ending is the same. Anders becomes consumed by this, and everything else is drowned out.

Eventually, towards the end of the game, when Meredith has sent off for permission to the Right of Annulment, and Orsino can’t control the many other mages wanting to fight back, and things between mages and Templars are coming to a head, Anders asks you to come with him to get some ingredients that will make a potion to separate he and Justice. Then that turns out to be a lie and he asks you to distract Elthina in the Chantry so he can do...a thing. And he won’t tell you what. And you know he's up to something. BUT in DA2 and Awakening he's ALWAYS said that violence isn't the answer and that we have to show people mages can be good by example, and been against blood magic, etc. So you have the option to help him or not.

I helped him because SURELY he wouldn't do anything crazy. And SURELY he wouldn't ask/trick me, the woman he loves, to do something crazy. He simply asks you to trust him, and I did.

Aaaaaaand then I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

He blew up the Chantry in that town. Confirmed death toll from game lore is 100, but people estimate it could be more. This was the second time I had to walk away from this game due to emotions, the first being when your mom dies.

The Chantry runs the Templars, and the Templars watch the mages. Things were coming to a head. It had been a silent war raging. The Knight-Commander of the Templars was seeing shadows, threatening to basically rip the tower apart to find Blood Mages where there weren't. The leader of the Mages supported the Circle but was doing little to lead the mages against the Templars, and if the mages snapped all hell would break loose. The Cleric in the chantry refused to take sides, even though her word would essentially sway the masses into siding with someone. But she had to stay neutral because she couldn't choose as it wasn't her place, and she agreed there was no right answer both sides had a point. He blew up the Chantry, and forced people to take sides. Change had to come, and he decided he had to take the matter into his own hands to do it. And whether or not it was him or Justice or both is ambiguous and dependant on the route taken.

And I fucking helped him.

The game at this point forces you to choose a side, and I chose to side with the Mages because I WAS one and also Meredith wanted to kill every mage there for what Anders did.

I was betrayed by this character I had loved for two games, who my Hawke fell in love with, who I trusted, etc. And THAT hurt worse than anything else ever. You then had the option to kill him, which was the third point I had to walk away and agonize over a decision. Whether or not Anders was right is a topic still viscerally debated in the Dragon Age community too and it gets ROUGH.

So yeah. That is why I’m not over it and why I love this game so much but also how fucking dare it do this to me.

[thelast-genderbender]

At the age of 15 I had terfs harress and constantly sexually assault me online. A minor. Terfs don't care about women's rights, they only care about owning the 'trans' cult, that in the process that have hurt masculine woman and woman who are intersex. Many of your ideals have fuelled abuse of transgender minors from parents, they feed into the lies that the detransition rate is higher, that we are dirty and unworthy of love. I've never had such low self confidence until I learned of terfs. After I came out as trans I was happy to be myself, I went to doctors and they signed me up for a clinic to diagnosis me with gender dysphoria. After publicly stating I am trans, I got terfs trying to convert me, saying fucking awful shit and objectifying me to what's in my pants. Never have I ever got that sort of treatment even from men, it's always been women. There's nothing wrong with being a woman of course they are wonderful and deserve respect, I'm not one. It's honestly disturbing to see a person my age actively in terf circles, terfs are literal predators, who bitch about conversion therapy because a trans woman loves a woman, while actively seek out trans men to try and convert them to lesbians, to make them love their 'womanhood' it's disgusting, the stories I've seen these women post about trans men are r*pe, plain and fucking simple. Terfs will talk big about being welcome of detransitioned women but as soon as that woman still supports trans rights, she is labelled 'handmaiden' it disgusts me deeply. Many women are traumatised by men and I've seen terfs twist this so much and turn it on trans women, telling young traumatised women that they are going to come into your bathrooms are r*pe you. A lie from terf circles debunked by common sense. It's honestly upsetting to see radical feminism is nothing more then a transphobic dogwhistle. Some of the sweetest people I've known have been trans women, many have been scared to even dress a certain way in public incase they get murdered on the streets. I've never met a trans woman who is a predator. Being a terf is a choice being trans is not.

I'm in a much better place now and I will be much happier after transitioning. I hope you can find happiness too, as terf circles are filled with negativity and predators. If you are going to just misgender and invalidate my and every trans men experiences, then don't bother replying. This is just my personal experiences and an hopefully eye opening read.

Just a heads up, if you want to start a meaningful conversation with someone that has views that contradict your own, you probably shouldn’t start your message with a narrative that is incredibly vague and disingenuous. I want to talk with people that disagree with me because it’s important to me that my beliefs aren’t based on inconsistent logic or cognitive dissonance (because they 100% were when I was a liberal/���intersectional” feminist), but in order to have those meaningful discussions you need to make arguments that are based on something more than anecdotal evidence. Even if the story you just told was 100% true, it’s an undeniable fact that what you experienced was abnormal and that virtually every woman on the planet has been abused by a man- and those who haven’t are still living in the same patriarchal world that the rest of us are in. I’m not going to try to prove to you that sexism exists, but if you’ve been living under a rock since the beginning of civilization here’s a link to a WHO report over global rates of femicide. 

I wanted to go through this ask more thoroughly, but I’m studying for midterms and I just don’t have that kind of time. Believe me when I say that your understanding of radical feminism is incredibly flawed. It seems as though everything you think you know about us was fed to you by someone who knows that if you took the time to understand our views you would probably agree with us. Please try to think outside of yourself and your interests for 5 minutes; think about victims of male violence, think about the women who are having their job opportunities and athletic victories stolen from them. Think about the women who are being forced to share sex-specific spaces with males, after those spaces were earned by feminists who dared to argue that women should have safe spaces outside of their homes that they can retreat to in order for them to be able to participate in the public sphere as much as men can. Maybe open your eyes and read the articles written BY TRANSWOMEN about how pretending to be female is sexually gratifying to them! How about this article by a transwoman who was sexually aroused by “breastfeeding” their child? Or this one about a transwoman who thinks that what makes them female is their desire to be treated as a sexual object? Do I really need to explain to you how transwomen perpetuate horrifically damaging ideas about women when they will do the explaining themselves in articles that they would NEVER have been featured in had they never began identifying as women? 

Believe me, I would love to read something eye-opening about radical feminism. The fact that I’ve never seen a compelling, well written, or logically sound argument that even briefly threatened my stance on this subject is the reason why I’ve settled with these beliefs. It is going to take more than your “personal experiences” to prove to me that a male can become a woman.

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 13 of don’t read the last page is here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

“You’re welcome to bring a plus one...if there is one, I mean,” he said, and she looked up from the envelope to meet his eyes, suddenly feeling awkward, especially when she saw the question there.

“Oh,” she said, forcing a smile, “I’ll bring Kristoff, then! My boyfriend. Longterm boyfriend.”

Hans just gave her another one of his trademark smiles. “Can’t wait to meet him. He must be someone special to have snatched you up.”

chapter 13: advent

“I-- you’re serious? That’s your only concern? You don’t care about the last couple months of rent?”

“Which I’ll pay, by the way,” Anna said quickly, “if you don’t find someone fast enough.”

Sven shrugged. “Security Guard Dylan already responded to my group email about it, so we’re good on that front.”

“You’re really this upset about the sofa?”

“I’m not upset, Bjorgman, I’m disgusted by the taint that was left on it, and now I’m wishing I had chosen any other word because oh god--”

“Jesus,” Anna yelped, “okay, yes, we’ll take the couch you’ve got now, and I’ll get one to replace this one. The exact same one if that’s what you want.”

“It’s okay if that’s too much to ask,” Sven said quickly, “I was mostly kidding, but I figured you’d be buying a new one for the house anyway so--”

Anna turned bright red. “It’s not a problem, Sven, uh...trust me.”

“Sweet. Oh, congrats, you guys, by the way. I think I forgot to say that.”

“You did,” Kristoff said drily. “We’re deeply offended.”

“Super fucking offended,” Anna concurred.

Sven groaned. “Fuck, okay, fine, I’ll make that carrot cake again. But that’s the only going away present you’re getting out of me.”

---

They were going to look at the house together one last time before she made a final decision. “It’s your house, though, Anna,” Kristoff had said seriously. “Your name on the deed. So it’s up to you.”

“I know. I still want to make sure you like it.”

But he was right, and so she went half an hour early just to walk through it by herself. The realtor had agreed to give her a moment just to wander and take it all in. There wasn’t much furniture; the house hadn’t been lived in for a while, so there were just a few pieces for staging. Anna tilted her head in the living room, trying to picture what it would look like to have a familiar sofa, maybe an armchair, a coffee table so they could still have picnics on the floor.

And then the kitchen, which had plenty of counter space for pancakes but was currently devoid of anything, even a stove; she didn’t stay there long before making her way down the hall to the bedrooms. They were both small, but one had a lovely view of the backyard, where Kristoff had already told her he wanted to start a garden. That would be theirs, then, so she could wake up and see the sunflowers.

The other one...well. For now, maybe it would be for storage, or just a guest room in case they had visitors. Looking at it too long sent an odd feeling through her chest, making her feel almost dizzy, and she turned away. 

The front door opened then, and she emerged with a smile to see Kristoff standing in the entryway. She hadn’t seen him in four days, and so she ran to him, and he wordlessly folded her into his arms, settling one hand on the back of her head to stroke her hair.

For a few minutes, they stood and held each other, talking softly about her work and his final exams and how nice the drive up here was, and then she took him by the hand and led him through the house.

It was his first time seeing the interior; he looked over it all carefully, clearly taking note of every detail, and she loved him all the more for it. But she had eyes only for him, for the way his presence suddenly made the house feel full. It wasn’t so hard to picture the sofa now, not when she could see how he would lean over the back of it to surprise her with a kiss on the top of the head, and in the kitchen, she perched on the counter and made sure it was just the right height by leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. And then down the hallway she showed him the bedroom with a mischievous smile. “This one’s going to be ours,” she said, and his eyes lingered on her lips for a moment.

She showed him the other one, too, and they both were quiet for a moment. His hand settled on her shoulder, pulling her close to his side.

“I don’t know that we’ll have much use for this one yet,” she said, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes.

He smiled fondly down at her. “We’ve got time to figure it out.”

---

And that was that, and suddenly Anna was standing in the middle of her own bedroom, staring at all the piles and wondering where to begin.

Elsa slipped in, still in her work blazer. “How did signing everything go at the bank?”

“Great, yeah, super easy. The mortgage guy kind of did a double-take when I came in with the realtor and kept offering me lollipops off his desk.”

“And?”

“Well, I ate them, obviously.”

Elsa snorted. “I meant how did the rest of it go.”

“Oh! Oh-- well.” Anna held up her copy of the deed. “I’m a homeowner now.”

She was quiet for a moment, toeing the only box she had bothered to put together yet. The only item in it so far was a photo album. After a minute, she dared a glance at her sister.

“Do you think Mom and Dad would be proud of me? For...this. For everything.”

Elsa squeezed her hand. “Of course. For absolutely all of it. Mom would be begging to come watch you at work so she could cheer you on from the sidelines, and Dad would be teaching you how to fix....oh, I don’t know, rusty pipes or whatever can go wrong in a house.”

Anna laughed. “Thank God I have Kristoff for that then.”

“They’d be proud of you for that, too. They always liked him.”

“You think?”

“Oh, I know. Remember how they waited up all night to see you come home from prom?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Mom and I had placed a bet on whether or not you two would get together that night. Dad wouldn’t admit it, kept saying ‘that’s my baby girl, she’s too young for a boyfriend anyway’ but he was the one peeking through the curtains.”

Anna leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder. “I miss them.”

“Me, too.”

---

Rehearsals were getting more serious now that the first scenes were set to be shot at the end of the month. Not that Anna had been taking any of this lightly; she’d been driving everyone crazy by humming her songs every waking moment. Even Kristoff had very gently pulled her into his arms as she stood singing the new song that had been written for her-- “Under the Stars”, a cheesy title but really almost as pretty as “Once Upon a December-- while she made French toast in her kitchen; they’d finally been able to spend a night together, and Elsa had graciously pretended she had had plans to spend the night with Honey, anyway.

“Baby,” Kristoff had said, pressing a kiss behind her ear. “You know I love you more than anything.”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled in between the bridge and the third verse, dipping another piece of bread.

“But can you please, please sing something else?”

She glanced up at him, her cheeks pink. “Sorry, I know I’m being annoying, it’s just--”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You want to get it right. I know. And I promise that it sounds amazing already.”

She had convinced him to sing for her instead, and then they’d spent the rest of the morning laughing and eating their breakfast and going through furniture websites to pick out a bed.

That was what was distracting her when she ran into a broad chest with an armful of music, dropping her iced coffee on her shoes in the process. “Oh! Jesus fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get any on you, did I?”

She didn’t dare to meet his gaze until she heard a laugh; to her relief, it was only Hans. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his green eyes bright with amusement. “I was distracted, too, so it’s half my fault. Running lines in your head?”

“Uh-- yeah, something like that.”

“Awesome. Are you ready for our scene practice this afternoon?”

She wasn’t, but she nodded anyway. They were blocking out the dance scene, the one where Anastasia and Dmitri realized they were falling in love. She had the lines down already, and she’d been practicing the dance itself plenty with the choreographer, but it was the other stuff that made her feel nervous, the longing looks and sharp intakes of breath that made up a good ohmygodIlovehim scene. It didn’t help that this was Hans Westergaard, who this past awards season had been nominated for Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor. He hadn’t won either, but there was already talk that he’d be up again for his part in a war drama, and just the fact that his name was attached to this project was a huge deal. “You can match him, Anna, seriously,” the director, Destin, had said when he’d noticed she was nervous before their first rehearsal together. “You just haven’t had the chance to prove it yet. Well, here it is now.”

She shook her head and realized she’d spaced out before answering. “Um-- yeah. Can’t wait!”

Hans smiled at her, that mysterious grin that had spawned countless thirst tweets. “Me, either.”

---

Kristoff’s back was to her as he worked, fiddling with a tiny screwdriver and a massive bedpost. She knelt beside him with a weak smile; he had insisted on building the bed they’d picked himself, even though it was his only night off this week and she had offered to just get someone to assemble it for them. But that was why they’d gotten one from Ikea anyway, although they could have afforded better; Anna was paying the mortgage and for most of the items in the house so that he could spend the next year focusing on clinicals and studying for his board exams. He’d reassured her it didn’t make him feel weird to let her pay for so much, but still he didn’t want to quit his job at Starbucks entirely-- “so I can still take you out on my own dime”-- and insisted on “earning his keep”, whether that meant doing whatever he could around the little house to get it ready for them to officially move in or picking her up when she needed to make a swift exit to avoid paparazzi or just kissing her as much as she could possibly want.

“Just a second,” he said, not looking up as he finished putting two pieces together, “just gotta-- there!”

He turned to her with a grin. “It’s only taken me an hour, and I’m almost a third of the way there.”

To his horror, she burst into tears instead of laughter. “I have to go away again,” she managed to get out as he immediately pulled her into his arms.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Anna, don’t cry. We did it before, we’ll do it again.”

“To Russia. They want to do some location shit. For three weeks.”

“We made it six weeks last time, hey?”

“This time it’s over Valentine’s Day.”

Kristoff laughed gently. “So we’ll celebrate early.”

She sniffled against the collar of his shirt. “But I don’t want to leave you.”

“It’ll be okay. I know how to work FaceTime on my own and everything.”

“But I love you. And this is stupid. They can just green screen me in.”

She was being a baby, she knew; she was getting paid a stupid amount of money to go to a brand new place and stay in a hotel and wear gorgeous dresses and act alongside a bunch of people way more famous than she was. And three weeks really wasn’t bad at all, especially when now they’d be spending time every day together so they’d have more than enough chances to make up for lost time.

But still-- she loved him, and she would miss him, and she just wanted to be sad about that for a little while, and so he held her until her tears dried.

---

Sam had a bottle of champagne waiting for her when she stepped into his office after a long day of hair and makeup testing. Her hair was still twisted up into a regal updo she knew would take half an hour to take down and brush out; she’d have to enlist Kristoff’s help in getting all the pins out. It was rather at odds with the Buchanan High sweatshirt she was wearing, the only thing of his she could wear without attracting suspicion since people just assumed it had always been hers. Already her Wikipedia page had way too much personal information on it, too many little details about her life that let people think they knew her.

“Two hundred fifty thousand followers today, kiddo! Quarter of the way to a mill! Lena’s over the moon.”

“Is that what you had me drive all the way over here for?” Anna asked, flopping into a chair.

Sam steepled his fingers. “No. Just wanted to, you know, check in.”

She ignored the glass of champagne he slid across the desk to her. “And you couldn’t just call me?”

“Your director did. Said he could tell you’re running yourself ragged before filming’s even started, but that he can’t get you to slow down long enough to have a chat.”

“I’m Anastasia in Anastasia, Sam. There’s a lot to do.”

“I know,” he said gently, “and I know you can do it. But I don’t want you to burn yourself out this early on in the movie or in your career.”

She didn’t look at him; instead, she focused on sliding her finger around the rim of the glass, wondering if she could make it ring like she used to do to cups of water in restaurants to annoy her sister.

“They hadn’t hired your permanent hair and makeup person yet. So I pulled some strings.”

She looked up then. “Really?”

“Yeah. Lucky for you Miss Nattura just wrapped some--”

“Horror movie, yeah. Trust me, I’ve heard all about it.”

“Still dating your sister, then?”

Anna grinned. “Want to come over for dinner sometime? We can make faces across the table at them when they start being gross.”

“You’re one to talk. How’s the boyfriend?”

“Great. Thanks for getting that photo taken down before it hit TMZ, by the way. I have no idea how they got it or even recognized us. We’ve been really careful. I hardly even see him anymore, seriously.”

“I know,” Sam said with a sad smile. “And it’s only going to get worse.”

---

Sven said the 23rd is great. Looks like Friendsmas is on :)

.

yaaaay it will be so fun

how did ur last final go?

haha final final

.

Well, I think. I’m heading to the house now to meet the guys who are bringing the kitchen stuff. How is your day going?

.

good just singing all day going to lose my voice by tonight

but i’ll figure out how to say thank you for meeting those guys anyway 😘

.

Please tell me this is one of the days you finish early.

As she was about to fire off another response, heat in her cheeks, Hans cleared his throat beside her. “Anna, hey!”

“Oh! Hey, what’s up? Want to run lines again?”

He grinned, and she returned it; that had become something of a routine for them over the last few weeks, running lines together over sandwiches in his trailer. “Yeah, of course. But right now I wanted to give you this.”

He handed her a heavy, ivory envelope; she opened it with a raised eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“Read it and see, goofball.”

She laughed as she scanned the gold-edged piece of cardstock inside. “New Year’s Eve at your place?”

“Yes, I’ve invited the whole cast. And the important members of the crew. You’re welcome to bring a plus one...if there is one, I mean,” he said, and she looked up from the envelope to meet his eyes, suddenly feeling awkward, especially when she saw the question there.

“Oh,” she said, forcing a smile, “I’ll bring Kristoff, then! My boyfriend. Longterm boyfriend.”

Hans just gave her another one of his trademark smiles. “Can’t wait to meet him. He must be someone special to have snatched you up.”

--

“Do you really like it?”

He laughed as he unfolded the massive blanket. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s like, seven feet long or something. So it’s big enough even for you. And look, I got them to put a K on the bottom. So it’s official, I can’t steal it from you.”

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. If I do, you can kick me out of bed.”

“I think that breaks most of the rules we set for these presents.”

“There were only two rules!”

“Yes, and one of them was ‘it has to be a present for both of us’.”

“So that’s only half of the rules. Which is fifty percent, which isn’t a majority.”

She stuck out her tongue, and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Remind me why I ever thought it was a good idea to help you with your stats homework?”

“Because I helped you with your Milton project. And because you had a crush on me,” she teased. “Ha-ha.”

“You definitely had a bigger one on me.”

“Oh, I did for sure,” she said cheerfully, moving from where she had been sitting on the other end of the sofa to sit on his lap, leaning back against his chest. “Especially that year because you grew like six inches.”

He unfolded the blanket all the way and draped it over them both. Anna sighed contentedly and nestled closer against his chest. “See? It can be for both of us sometimes after all.”

“Are you already falling asleep?”

She nodded against him with a yawn, her eyes already closing, and he gently nudged her shoulder. “I didn’t get to give you your present yet.”

“This is enough,” she mumbled sleepily. 

“Trust me, you’ll want to see this.”

“Mhmm.”

“Before the party. Because it’s kind of for Sven too.”

“Well, we have like two hours before they’re here. So let me nap for one.”

He kissed her forehead. “You’ll need time to set it up, though.”

“Is it a Wii?”

Kristoff blinked in surprise. “How did you—“

“You’re dropping so many hints right now it’s not even funny. Also, I tried to hide your present in the second bedroom’s closet and found it there.”

“Goddammit.”

“It’s perfect, though,” she reassured him, pressing a sleepy kiss to his jaw. “Can’t imagine a more perfect present.”

“Now you’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll stay here and hold you while you nap.”

“Is it working?”

He sighed, but a smile was playing at the corners of his lips. “Sweet dreams.”

She was already asleep. 

[cryxmercy]

Does HIPPA Still Apply If I Tell You I’m Immortal? || Mercy & Queenie

When: Current, early afternoon Where: White Crest Memorial Hospital Clinic Who: Mercy and Dr. King @drqueenieking

TW: hospitals, death mention, drowning mention, assault mention, injury mention, medical blood, non-con (r/t supernatural powers), mental health, PTSD

A Fury walks into a doctor’s office…  

This was stupid. 

She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need a doctor. It was… ridiculous. 

The slight tremor of her hands - though it happened intermittently - said otherwise. As did the new onset sleepwalking. It had happened again last night. This time she’d ended up in the street, waking up to the blare of a car horn as it swerved to miss her. She would’ve been fine if it hadn’t. Wouldn’t she? It was just a small four-door sedan, after all, and not a semi. She’d had worse. The thought of waking up inside a morgue freezer turned her stomach, and her ire at Dr. Kavanagh, who still had her blocked online (the coward), made her frown.

But it wasn’t the near-miss VVP that had pushed Mercy to call the clinic - asking specifically for the seemingly competent doctor that had treated her in the ER back during the mime-madness - but the idea of not being in control of her body. She hadn’t lied when she’d told Blanche it had never been in issue before. Not in all her 1200 years. And she hadn’t been lying when she’d said she would tell Arthur if it happened again. She would. Later. Once she ruled out any lingering issues of the all too human variety. Still, Mercy didn’t like it here. With it’s antiseptic smell that didn’t hide the lingering miasma of sickness 

that saturated everything. From the stark white walls hung with cheap artwork, to the out of date magazines that begged to be put out of their misery in the nearest trash bin. 

So by the time she was called back, Mercy was damn near ready to scrap the whole thing. But if she ran now, she was no better than a coward. And Mercy was many things, but a coward wasn’t one of them. So she gave the young nurse a forced smile and followed her down the hallway where she was weighed, her vital signs taken, and asked a series of standard questions. Allergies? None. Meds? Nope. Drink? Daily. Smoke? Sometimes. Drugs? Medicinal. 

The nurse gave her a small side-eye, but made a few notes in the chart and left Mercy alone - with instructions to change into the little paper gown on the table - to wait on the doctor. Mercy waited anxiously, finding only mild satisfaction in tossing the ‘gown’ where it belonged: in the trash. She had once again decided this was a bad fucking idea after a solid twenty minutes passed and no doctor. She’d just made up her mind to leave - Fuck this… - when the door finally opened.

The day had been surprisingly slow. Without any near fatal car accidents or wild animal attacks which continued to be one of the most prominent emergency room visits that they received, Queenie had been keeping herself busy by making her rounds around the rooms, popping in with other doctors and requesting that they let her take on some of their work. After all, chances were high that the end result would be better off in Queenie’s hands anyways. Most of the doctor’s in the hospital knew this even if they weren’t willing to admit it. 

However, it turned out that someone had specifically asked for her. Since Queenie did not typically take appointments, this surprised her. The closest thing that she had to a monthly appointment was checking Blanche for a concussion or setting a bone that had come out of socket. And those instances were never scheduled officially, Queenie had just become used to them being a monthly occurrence. If not sooner. So when the nurse had told her, Queenie agreed to it and added it to her calendar, wondering who was coming in and why they specifically wanted to see her.

Queenie often lost track of time at the hospital, and today was no exception. She had been distracted when the nurse told her about the woman’s arrival and had instead been entirely too focused on reminding a fellow doctor that his diagnosis of a patient had been entirely off base and borderline negligent. It wasn’t until the doctor had angrily stormed off that Queenie remembered that she had a patient waiting for her. She jogged across the hospital floor until she found the room on the clipboard that the nurse had given to her and knocked on the door, pushing it open seconds later. “Good afternoon” Queenie began, only glancing at the woman while reading the clipboard. Finally, she looked back up, “You’re a familiar face.” She had been in a few months ago maybe, Queenie couldn’t be sure. “What brings you in today?”

Mercy froze when the door opened and the doctor she remembered from the ER walked in. Well, at least she was seeing the person she’d asked for. Not that this was any easier for Mercy. She hadn’t been to a doctor in… so long that she couldn’t remember. Probably during the Cold War. But this was hardly post-WWII Russia. It was a tiny room at White Crest Memorial. And Mercy wasn’t a spy. She was… tired. She was just… tired. 

It seemed the doctor recognized her too. A double gunshot wound - one of those to the neck - that hadn’t been DOA would probably have been memorable. Or maybe the woman was just being nice. Who knew. Either way, she got right down to business. Mercy appreciated that. 

She sat back on the table, and got right to the point. “I had an accident recently. I drowned. I almost died. I lost my vision for a month afterwards. Vitreous hemorrhage. Since my vision came back… a few weeks now… I’ve started having tremors. In my hands mostly. And I’ve been sleepwalking. I’ve never experienced either of those things before. Insomnia, yes. Nightmares, yes. But never anything quite so severe. So I guess I just wanted to make sure there was nothing… wrong.” She didn’t know what to ask for as far as tests or anything else. So she left it there for now. 

Emergency rooms never exactly gave the best first impression of a person. It was never easy to tell if someone was a friendly person or not when their life was at stake. This woman, Mercy, for instance had been in the emergency room before. She looked lethargic, annoyed even. But she couldn’t tell if these were simply faucets of her personality considering the last time she had seen the woman it had involved a gunshot wound. Most people weren’t exactly sociable after getting shot. 

“You almost drowned? How long ago was this?” Queenie moved toward the table, grabbing at the woman’s wrist and beginning to check her pulse. All seemed normal. “You lost your vision because of it?” That was interesting, and not at all a common side effect of drowning, even the ones with extended periods of exposure to water. “Tremors and sleepwalking… interesting. Have you experienced any shortness of breath? Extreme tiredness?” She glanced down at the patient’s hand she had been using to check the pulse and noticed her finger nails. No discoloration there, that was a good sign. “Where did you almost drown? A lake? The ocean? Your bathtub?” 

Mercy had never been accused of having the warmest personality. And when she was hurt or worried - she’d been both at the time - it only got worse. Usually, she was full of energy. Other than not being a morning person. But who was? And her annoyance came from having enough weird shit going on with her body and in her head that she felt like coming here was one of her last options. So she was thankful when the doctor didn’t dally. 

“A month? Six weeks maybe? Time sorta starts to run together after awhile.” Mercy let herself be examined, watching as the woman checked her pulse. “Yes.” It was either the drowning, or having spent too much time in the place she could only call limbo. A place of darkness and cold, between dying and coming back. “Tell me about it,” Mercy huffed. “Shortness of breath, no. Fatigue…” She frowned. How to explain the eternal weariness that came with being as old as she was? Without revealing how old she was. “Maybe a bit more tired than usual. But I don’t sleep well anyway. Never have.”

Then came the next question: where did she drown. “Dark Score Lake. I was…” Mercy hesitated, but eventually said fuck it. In for a penny and all that shit. “I was assaulted. And that person wrapped their hands around my throat, and held me under until-” The doctor could hopefully draw her own conclusion: until the bubbles stopped. “I was pronounced dead on scene by EMS. So… they took me to the morgue. Where even the medical examiner concluded that I was dead.” Mercy gave the doctor a wan smile. “I woke up in the observation room about four hours later when my friend came to ID my body.”  

So. There it was. 

A month and a half was a long time to continue exhibiting symptoms related to almost drowning. “Fatigue and shortness of breath are both common symptoms of Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome. Drowning victims that survive often experience this.” She nodded at Mercy’s words, making a note when she mentioned that has never slept well. “Have you ever considered that you may have sleep apnea or some form of insomnia?” Queenie was not entirely concerned about lack of sleep. Not as long as the person was still functioning. However, she knew how long periods of time without sleep could prove to be dangerous. She had too many examples of people falling asleep at the wheel in New York and ending up killing people or getting pretty damned close. “There are doctors that offer sleep studies here. I’m not one of those doctors. However you may consider looking into it.” 

Queenie’s arms dropped to her side as Mercy began explaining the full situation. Her clipboard hit against the railing of the hospital bed as it waved at her side. “You what?” Queenie pressed a finger to her forehead, considering this near impossibility that Mercy had just offered her. “Someone’s heart stopping for that long would risk severe brain damage.” She grabbed at Mercy’s hand again, checking her fingers. No sign that blood circulation had been cut off for an extended period of time. “There is no way you could have actually been dead that long. If I was even going to entertain the idea, I’d recommend a CT scan to make sure you haven’t experienced any brain damage. Honestly, even the thought just seems-” Queenie paused for a moment, noting another point Mercy had made. “You said someone assaulted you? Did they ever catch the person?”

“Insomnia and I are old friends.” Mercy tried to sound blaise, but it fell short. She just sounded... tired. “But no shortness of breath. Not after the first couple of days. And that was mostly because I was coughing so much.” She left out the part about the black oil, if only because she hadn’t seen it for herself. Mercy glanced up to the doctor’s face as she suggested a sleep study. That would probably be a terrible idea. No, it would be a terrible idea. “I’ll think about it,” Mercy nodded, even if she had no intentions whatsoever of letting a complete stranger - likely a human stranger - watch her sleep. 

When she explained the rest, the doctor’s reaction was… well, it wasn’t as bad as Mercy had anticipated. Honestly, she’d expected to be told - again - that it wasn’t possible. That there had been some mistake. Or some other excuse to make Mercy sound insane. “I’m aware,” she said with a note of long-suffering patience. She let the doctor examine her hands again. They looked like normal hands. Small and fine-boned, with neatly manicured nails. There was a tattoo on the underside of her right forearm, and what looked like an old burn scar shaped vaguely like a ‘P’ on the underside of her left wrist. Though she kept it covered with a watch or wrist-band of some sort. 

Mercy huffed when the doctor hit the proverbial nail right on the head. “Yeah.” But that was all she said about the medical examiner. She had her opinions, but she wasn’t here to talk about that. Instead, Mercy nodded in agreement that if she had actually been dead - truly dead - then she would likely not be sitting here now. But then again, Mercy wasn’t human.     

“Insane?” she said, finishing the doctor’s sentence for her. “Yeah. It does. But… there are conditions that mimic death to the point where even a doctor might be fooled. Catalepsy. The Lazarus Phenomenon. Fugu toxin. Even severe hypothermia.” Or being immortal. But it wasn’t as if Mercy could just come out and say that, could she? No matter how much the incident had affected her. 

Mercy hummed quietly, acknowledging the question about the assault. “Yeah. I was out by the lake. I walk at night when I can’t sleep,” she gave as an explanation, since ‘I was helping an exorcist and a supernatural bounty hunter kill and banish a squid-demon back to it’s own dimension’ would most certainly get her a psych workup. “This guy - I think he was drunk or on something - figured he could mug me. Didn’t expect me to fight back. He got the upper hand.” Mercy shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Yeah, he’s... taken care of.” Not a lie, technically. But she wasn’t about to out Nic when it wasn’t his fault. 

“Why?”

“That sounds awful for you and your friend. I can’t imagine what that must have been like to wake up to.” Though Queenie was not entirely interested in the woman’s individual experience, she had to admit that it was fascinating to consider. How could someone have come back after that long without any permanent damage being done? 

The woman named off explanations for her sudden brush with dead and Queenie crossed her arms, “So you know a bit about medicine then? That’s quite impressive” Queenie didn’t use the term lightly, but liked to give credit where credit was due. Most of those were uncommon phenomena that rarely occurred and were even less frequently diagnosed as such. It was easy to pass things off as miracles or unexplainable. Lesser doctors were easily willing to except those explanations at times, whether it was because they were too incompetent to seek out the truth for themselves or because they enjoyed the idea of a miracle being associated with their name.

“I can’t imagine. Well, I am glad that he is taken care of. I do not drive, so I typically walk home from the hospital at all different hours of the day. I don’t like the idea of someone dangerous like that being on the loose.” Queenie explained. For what it was worth, all that time spent in New York and she had never so much as seen a mugger. From the stories she had heard in the ER, she supposed she could consider herself lucky. On the flipside, she had been in White Crest for only a couple of weeks before she had been attacked and her leg injured. Not that Queenie was willing to admit that Regan may have some backing to her baseless claim that animals were more violent here in White Crest. That must have just been an unlucky coincidence. 

“Well considering all the information that I’ve heard, I’m thinking your issue may not be physical at all.” Queenie crossed her arms, studying the clipboard again. “I am no psychologist, but you seem to be in good physical health. From what I’ve heard about your experience both with the mugger and then in the morgue it seems like you may be more aligned with some sort of PTSD. Though keep in mind that I am in no way qualified to diagnose that officially.” It was more of a hypothesis if anything, one that Queenie did not like to give formally unless necessary. However, from what Queenie had seen so far there didn’t seem to be any evidence that Mercy was suffering any visible defects following the attempted drowning. “I would be interested in running a CT scan, just to be sure. I’d be willing to do it myself, and can set up a time with you if interested.” Queenie tore a sticky note free and scribbled her information down on the pad and handed it off to her. 

Mercy had only tried to talk to Regan to explain that what the medical examiner had witnessed hadn’t been a medical oversight, but more an oversight of Mercy not being human. And only because Mercy knew Regan was fae. As the medical examiner, Regan needed to know - for her own safety as well as the safety of others - what she was dealing with when it came to the non-human residents of White Crest. But she hadn’t wanted to hear it. And Mercy wasn’t the type to beg someone to listen which is why she hadn’t gone over to the morgue and confronted Regan herself. It was only a matter of time before her denial would catch up with her. And that probably made Mercy more angry than anything. Because she’d seen the results of people turning a blind eye to one another. It never ended well.  

“It was… not the best,” Mercy said truthfully. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But… we’re alright.” At least, she thought they were. Arthur tended to keep things close to the vest sometimes, not wanting to upset her. She couldn’t manage to be upset with him for that. 

Mercy smiled again at the compliment. “I try to stay informed.” Plus she’d had a long, long time to research certain things. One didn’t live for 1200 years without several periods of wondering how it all worked. Mercy had come to the conclusion that some things were simply unexplainable. At least in human terms. Miracles existed, but they were rare. Even more rare than Mercy herself.

Mercy nodded as the subject of her assailant passed, glad she wasn’t getting too many questions. It was dealt with. They moved on, and after Dr. King was done examining Mercy, she seemed to come to a tentative conclusion. One that didn’t surprise Mercy. Who didn’t like shrinks. At all. “Post-Traumatic Stress,” Mercy nodded as she took the information in. “I suppose that makes sense. I… I used to be a cop. Before I came here. Seattle. New York before that. We got…” She waved a hand towards her head. “- psych screens all the time. I always passed,” she assured the doctor. “But yeah. Okay. I’ll… look into it.” Mercy wouldn’t look into it. She knew what PTSD was. Had probably suffered from it for centuries. Only they didn’t have a name for it then. She was just glad to have checked out alright physically.

Dr. King mentioned a CT scan and handed Mercy a sticky note. “Thanks,” Mercy told Dr. King, tucking the note away in a pocket after she’d read over it. “I’ll think about it and let you know She’d talk to Arthur first, before she made any decisions. Who knew what the brain of a 1200 year old immortal would look like on a scan like that? It might invite more trouble than it was worth. 

“I would be interested in hearing about any further symptoms or experiences that you may have regarding this. Being legally dead that long is practically unheard of, even with the medical examples that Mercy had given. It could be valuable information to study. Not nearly as much of a medical marvel as someone with wings, but still fascinating stuff. If Queenie were a skeptic, she may even consider that Maine or White Crest truly did have something that caused it to be more susceptible to anomalies. If Queenie were willing to make an hypothesis based purely on a string of unrelated coincidences.

Based on the new information, PTSD seemed even more lucky. So Queenie nodded, “Between that and then your recent attack, I would say it’s not unlikely. It may be worth looking into at the very least.” Though Queenie herself had always considered psychology to be more medically adjacent than a study of medicine in itself, she at least acknowledged that sometimes symptoms were outside of her own physical control. Even if she thought that psychiatrists were glorified counselors that liked to play pharmacist. 

Though Queenie did not hold out much hope that Mercy would be returning for a CT scan anytime soon, she also had other things that she could be focusing on instead. She did not have much concern what Mercy did either way. “Well, you have my contact information. If any symptoms get worse please feel free to contact me. Apparently, I make house calls now.” Queenie stated sarcastically, adding in “At least the town seems to think so.” beneath her breath. “If there’s nothing else bothering you at the moment, then I’d guess that you’re good to go.”

The request to hear more about Mercy’s experience of being ‘legally dead’ for almost four hours wasn’t all that surprising. She could understand the curiosity from a medical standpoint - cheating death was what doctors did, wasn’t it? - and part of her even relished the idea that Dr. King was willing to discuss it. To learn. But Mercy wasn’t going to be a science experiment. She’d taken a risk revealing what she had. But Dr. King had been kind, and she’d listened seemingly without bias. So Mercy granted her one thing. “It’s very dark... and very cold,” she said of her experience with ‘death.’ “Wherever I was, I don’t ever wish to return.” She gave Dr. King a small, tight smile. 

As for the rest. “I’ll give it some thought.” And she would. Not a lot, because she wasn’t about to let some human head doctor try and psychoanalyze her. It wouldn’t end well. For either party. Would Mercy be coming back for a head scan too? Also not likely. She’d checked out physically, so that was good enough for her. It might even satisfy Arthur’s insistence that she get herself checked over. Well, now she had. And she was fine. So when Dr. King started to wrap up, Mercy was quite ready to be on her way. She gave Dr. King a small smirk. “Be careful with that around here,” she said of the house calls. “You never know who you’ll run into.” Or what. “People’ll start to take advantage.”

After thanking the doctor for her time, Mercy agreed that if anything new or concerning came up, she’d be sure to call. Though Mercy’s definition of ‘concerning’ was likely far, far different than Dr. King’s. 

~

[sunshinejs]

Appreciated

‘cause it’s you who takes care of everyone else

you need to allow me to help you, you are appreciated - Appreciated by Rixton

this song is my go-to sad song, i’ll just cry to it at any time :( 

i just felt like a sad song blurb tonight tbh so here it goes

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

Word count: 1.9k -ish

Connor stood outside your apartment and before you could say anything, he pushed past you and entered the house.

 You sigh heavily, closing the door as you followed after him.

 Once you were in the living room, Connor turned to face you “You’ve been avoiding me” He accused.

 You stood before him, looking so timid; with your arms crossed over your chest “I have not” You argued back, in a soft tone.

 “y/n, you cannot lie to me” He stated, giving you a pointed look “What the hell happened to your phone? I called you so many times and every time I did, it went to voicemail. Do you know how worried I was?”

 You shook your head, spun on your heels and headed for your bedroom instead “Well, I’m sorry but I never asked you to worry for me, Connor”

 Connor frowned and trailed after you. He grabs a hold of your wrist “Hey?” He called softly, pulling you closer to him so he could turn you to face him. You wouldn’t even look at him, which made him even more worried “What is it?”

 “It’s nothing, Con” You reassured him “Please, just go home. I’m okay. I just need to go to sleep right now. I’m really tired”

 He was reluctant to leave you; knowing there was something you weren’t telling him but he knew you better to know that he couldn’t get it out of you unless you were the one to willingly tell him.

 “Are you sure?” He asked. He needed confirmation; confirmation that you were okay and that the bad feeling in his stomach telling him that everything wasn’t fine was just a lie “I can stay if you want?”

 You finally looked up at him, plastering on a fake smile “That’s alright, Con. I’m really okay. Just tired from all the studying, that’s all”

 Connor nodded hesitantly “If you’re sure… But you’ll call me if something bad is going on, right?”

 “Right” You confirmed “I trust you to lock the door on your way out?”

 “Yeah, I have my spare keys” He told you “Have a good rest, y/n”

 “You too, Con” You waved to him before heading towards your bedroom.

 xxx

[5:00pm] hey, I’m at the library with Shawn and Brian. Wanna join?

[6:55pm] you okay? I haven’t seen you in classes all day today.

[7:30pm] y/n? you’re scaring me again.

[8:23pm] are you sleeping? Sick in bed? Is that why you’re not answering my texts? Do you want me to bring some soup over?

 Connor dropped his phone in frustration after he sent the fourth message. Four messages to you, not a single one was read. He had a half-mind to pack up all his shit and race back to your apartment to make sure everything was okay, just like you said it was a few days ago.

 Shawn looked up from his notes, startled by the sudden noise “Everything okay?” He asked concernedly.

 “Sorry” Connor apologized; realizing he probably distracted Brian and Shawn from their studying when he took his frustration out on his phone “Yeah, everything’s okay”

 Brian gave him a pointed look and leaned back in his chair “I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but you’re a shit liar, Connor. So, spit it out”

 Yeah, Brian was right. Besides you, there were two other people who could immediately tell when he was trying to lie and they were Shawn and Brian.

 Connor sighs, “It’s y/n. She’s been acting super weird lately and won’t tell me what’s up. I’m getting really worried about her”

 Brian and Shawn gave each other a look, which didn’t go unnoticed by Connor.

 “What?” He wondered “What’s that look you’re giving each other?” His eyebrows furrowed “What do you know that I don’t?”

 “We know something….” Shawn said, biting his lower lip “But we don’t know how true it is because Jake was the one who heard it and told us”

 “You’re really freaking me out, Mendes” Connor laughed nervously “What did Jake tell you?”

 “It’s her boyfriend, man” Brian explained “Jake’s girlfriend told him that y/n caught her boyfriend in bed with someone else…”

 And at that moment, Connor felt like a shitty best friend for not seeing the signs that you weren’t okay. He was mad at himself for listening to you when you told him to go home instead of lending you a shoulder to cry on.

 “We thought you knew” Shawn said softly when he notices Connor’s stunned look, which was a sign that Connor didn’t know what the hell was actually going on “We know she tells you everything, Con. And we didn’t think it was our place to tell you because what Jake said couldn’t be true, you know?”

 Connor nodded understandingly and begin to pack his things up. He needed to see you, hold you close, be there for you at a time like this because you’ve always been there for him at any circumstances.

 “I’m going to go see her” He announced, picking up his backpack “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?”

 “Definitely” Brian nods “And hey, Con?”

 Connor glanced at him as Brian continues “Don’t beat yourself up for not knowing what was going on with her. This doesn’t make you any less of a good best friend, okay?”

 Shawn nodded in agreement “You’ve always been there for her when she needed it, man. Don’t doubt yourself over this”

 He smiled gratefully at his friends “Yeah, I know. Thanks guys”

 Connor needed to see you but he knew there were other things he had to deal with first and that included paying your ex-boyfriend a friendly visit.

 xxx

Your eyes shot open when you heard the doorbell ring. Normally you were a heavy sleeper and would even sleep through a fire but ever since it happened, you’ve been having a hard time falling asleep properly.

 You glanced at the clock glaring at you in red. 10:17pm. You definitely weren’t expecting company tonight and you didn’t order for food delivery. You slipped on your hoodie and threw the comforter off you to get head to the front door.

 When you saw Connor standing outside your door again, like he did a few days ago, you froze. The only difference is that this time, he was bruised up pretty badly.

 “Connor, what the hell?” You exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into your place, locking the door behind you.

 “What the fuck happened?” You ask as you escort him to sit on the bar stool and you headed for the cabinet where you kept a small first aid kid in case you injured yourself while you were cooking.

 Connor remained silent as he watched you grab the little box out of the cabinet and a frozen pack of peas from the freezer before you went back to where he sat.

 “Well?” You frowned, passing him the frozen pack “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

 He shrugged his shoulders in reply and held the pack against his bruised eye “I don’t wanna talk about it”

 You sigh heavily but nodded. You took out all the materials you needed to treat the cut on his cheek. It wasn’t that bad but it sure as hell wasn’t going to go away in a few days. You grab the cotton pad and poured some rubbing alcohol on it.

 “This is gonna sting, okay?” You muttered softly and brought your hand up to his cheek, lightly patting over his scar.

 Connor hissed in pain when coming in contact with the stinging pain but he kept quiet while you did your job. Once you cleaned the wound, you put a plaster over the scar and begin to pack everything away.

 “Go sit on the couch” You instructed “I’ll make us some tea… And keep that pack on your eye, please”

 “Yes ma’am” He said jokingly, hopping off the stool and headed towards your couch.

 After making two mugs of hot green tea, you joined him on the couch and placed the mugs on the coffee table to let it cool down first “Your eye looks pretty bad” You said worriedly “I’ll take you to the clinic tomorrow to get it checked out”

 “Nah” He shook his head “It’ll go away eventually, y/n. I don’t need to see a doctor”

 “Come on, Con” You frowned “That looks pretty bad. Please let me take you?”

 “Honest to God, I’m good” He reassured, leaning forward to reach for his mug. He blew on the tea before taking small sips of it and putting it back on the table.

 “Who did you get in a fight with?” You asked softly.

 Connor shrugged his shoulders “Doesn’t matter who. That isn’t important”

 “Connor, if you come to my place all bruised up then it’s pretty important to me” You snapped “What were you thinking getting into a fight? What if something bad happened to you?”

 “Well I’m here with you, aren’t I?” He rolled his eyes “That means I’m perfectly fine”

 “If you’re going to act like this then I’m going to bed” You announced, getting up from the couch “Sleep here or leave, whatever you want”

 You weren’t even four steps away when Connor asked out loud “Why didn’t you tell me he cheated on you?”

 You froze. You could hear the anger in his tone.

 Connor noticed your frozen position so he stood up, dropping the frozen pack as he walked towards you.

 “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, standing before you “Why did I have to find out from someone else?”

 “Connor,” You looked down, taking a sudden interest in the floor instead “I didn’t want you to worry” You said softly.

 “You didn’t want me to worry?” He repeated “You’re my best friend, y/n!” He exclaimed in anger “Of course, I’m going to worry because I care about you so much”

 “You shouldn’t have to worry!” You argued back, looking at him “I don’t need you to worry about me and my problems, Con! I don’t want to be a burden!”

 Connor felt his heart drop at your words. Did you really think of yourself like that?

 “Hey,” He called out “You’re not a burden to anyone, especially not to me, y/n”

 “I am” You said in a fragile tone “I’m a burden to my family, Connor and I’m never gonna be good enough for anyone. He proved that to me, didn’t he? Told me there was no one else like me and that he only loved me, but then he easily slept with another girl? Am I that unlovable for him to do that to me?”

 “Honey” Connor reached for your hand and pulled you closer to him; tucking your head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around you “Hey, I’ve got you”

 A few days ago, when you found out everything, you couldn’t cry. No matter how hard you tried to feel something, the tears wouldn’t come out. All you felt was numb.

 But now, being in your best friend’s arms and feeling so vulnerable made you start to sob against his shoulder.

 “You are not a burden to your family, you hear me? They love you so much, y/n” Connor reassured as you continue to soak his shirt “No matter what you do, they’re always going to be proud of you. And I am always proud of you. You’re the strongest woman I know; always going all out to helping others when they have problems just because you have the kindest heart”

 “You are enough, y/n” He told you firmly “You’re always going to be enough for this world and you’re always appreciated by me, by your family, and by our friends. You’ve done so much for everyone and you didn’t think how it was going to affect you; just as long as everyone was happy”

“You’re always there for me whenever I need you, rain or shine, so now, please let me take care of you. Let me help you go through this and let me be your shoulder to cry on”

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

like, reblog and give me your feedbacks! ❤️

x rina

[the-accidentals]

Chapter 1

Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month. Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father. She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldests room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly.

Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call. For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perefect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned lorna one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm laura burmwell” laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat.

“Dont worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining laura’s dirty blonde mess any day.

“ I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly underdressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled.

“Preet, yeah, i'm hoping they can cure the fuckery going on in my head before the end of it” she chuckled but I could see the blush forming over her skin as she processed what she had said, Laura just snorted, tapping her leg on the linoleum floor, trying to think of something to say, her mind in overdrive.

“ nervous?” Preet questioned.

“i just haven't been in a drug trial for years, what if I grow four heads or something?” She joked, Preet actually burst out laughing, tears starting to form in her eyes, which got Laura laughing too, they just sat there trying to hide there laughter from the rest of the very serious looking members of the waiting room, finally after about 5 minutes they both calmed down enough to speak, laughter still glistening in their eyes.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, im sure you wont grow any more heads.” At that moment Preets name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it.

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse.

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face.

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, im sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons conduction, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos

This is the first part of a longer story and my first time doing any serious writing, any advice welcome! I know it isn't perfect but I tried so I hope you enjoy it xx

[wuzzybear]

The Accidentals- A bad fucking week. part 1

A group of broke adults join a medical trial hoping for some easy cash but instead get a lot more than what they wanted. There is something bad at play and they need to work it out if they ever want to be normal, not that they were normal before.

 Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month.  Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father.  She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldest’s room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly. 

 Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call.  For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down Reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up Honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perfect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised Steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned Laura one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm.. Laura Burmwell” Laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat. 

“Don’t worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, Laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining Laura's dirty blonde mess any day.

 “I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly under dressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m Laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled. 

“Preet, yeah, i'm hoping they can cure the fuckery going on in my head before the end of it” she chuckled but I could see the blush forming over her skin as she processed what she had said, Laura just snorted, tapping her leg on the linoleum floor, trying to think of something to say, her mind in overdrive.

“Nervous?” Preet questioned.

 “i just haven't been in a drug trial for years, what if I grow four heads or something?” She joked, Preet actually burst out laughing, tears starting to form in her eyes, which got Laura laughing too, they just sat there trying to hide there laughter from the rest of the very serious looking members of the waiting room, finally after about 5 minutes they both calmed down enough to speak, laughter still glistening in their eyes.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, I’m sure you wont grow any more heads.”  At that moment Preet’s name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it. 

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse. 

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face. 

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, I’m sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect  I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons condition, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos.

This is my first attempt writing, please tell me how to improve! this is the first part of a longer story.

[itsbenedict]

Rendering the Incomprehensible Comprehensible

I am confused by the state of the art of psychiatric medicine.

Now, I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm a guy what makes computers is be do videogames, and I haven't taken a chemistry class since freshman year of college or a biology class since high school. Pretty much the extent of my knowledge of the field is that I read Slate Star Codex a lot. So, the questions I'm asking here are ones I have to assume actual professionals in the area have answers to.

That question being... why is it made of drugs?

I don't mean in an “oh, these are social problems and we must solve society and overthrow [racism/capitalism/millenialism/makesworldwrong] instead of medicating our free spirits” way. I mean in a... how do drugs work at all, kind of way? It makes sense they work for killing pathogens- all you have to do is come up with a poison that works on what you're trying to kill but not on the host. But for fixing the brain? What?

My model of drug discovery works something like this: 

- Scientists poke around at the brain and see a ton of hyper-complicated chemical processes happening in there, and make some educated guesses about what they're doing, based on measurements of levels of certain chemicals in certain places during certain mental states. They've got some vague ideas about what these chemicals are doing, but these are mostly statistical inferences and not detailed causal models. They look at these brain chemicals and how they move around, and infer that if they make some other chemicals that are shaped in specific ways, those chemicals will interfere with these other chemicals and make there be more or less of them under certain conditions. - Armed with these guesses, they go to the lab and synthesize these chemicals, and then spend billions of dollars running gigantic clinical trials to see if, maybe, putting a bunch of these new chemicals in the bloodstream will actually have anything like the desired effect. - Most of the time they don't, because these were just educated guesses based on simplified models, but with enough billions poured into running more trials, they'll eventually find a chemical they can p-hack into looking like it does something, and then exploit FDA regulations to get doctors to prescribe it for a thousand dollars a pill. Sometimes, if they're extremely lucky, they'll find something that has a positive effect that they don't need to statistically mutilate to show, and then we have a groundbreaking discovery.

I may just be super underinformed, but as I understand it... this process weirds me the hell out.

In my current job, I spend a lot of time fixing bugs in old websites. These websites are sometimes large and labyrinthine, full of old uncommented code some contractor wrote years ago before dropping off the face of the earth. This is, ignoring for a moment a completely unignorable difference in degree of complexity, kind of like trying to fix problems with the brain.

When I go in to fix a bug in a website, there's a lot of things I can do. I can look at the page's elements in the browser's dev tools. I can run the debugger and step through the code, looking at all the data and its values at any given point in time. I can go to the git repo and look back through previous versions of the code, to see what changes were made and when, in conjunction with Jira tickets describing what issue those changes were made to fix. And once I've figured out what's happening, I can go into the code, make changes, and see what effect they had.

Now, I can try to imagine what my job would be like if I had to do things like psychopharmacologists did.

First off, no making changes to the code. The code is compiled and minified and obfuscated and still three billion lines long. Even if I did figure out how to make desirable changes, that would be "digital eugenics" and I'd get fired.

Second, commit history only goes like three or four commits back, if I'm lucky. Previous commits have been deleted, since they're set to auto-recycle after a while and nobody knows how to turn that off.

Thirdly, no dev tools. I only have the rendered webpage itself, and when something goes wrong I have to kind of guess at whether it's a styling issue or a data issue or a connectivity issue or what.

What can I do, exactly? Well, I actually do have access to one of the dev tools, kind of: the Network tab. I can see the requests being made to the back-end API. Unfortunately, there is no API documentation, and the requests are just as obfuscated as the code. But I've also got Postman, and what I can kind of do is make my own requests to the API, to see what the output is and how it affects the system.

So, uh... hm, okay, I see a request being made to https://serotonin.presynapticneurone.neural.net. The data payload is gibberish, but I notice that when there's a lot of these requests happening, the webpage renders a little faster, and when there's not as many, it slows down. Maybe if I just copy the gibberish data and fake a bunch of my own requests, it'll go faster? ...Hm, okay, that kind of works on some pages but not others. Still, better than nothing- we have some users complaining about the site being slow, so let's just tell them to-

Oh, shit, wait, users don't know how computers work, I can't just tell them to spam Postman requests to the API endpoint. Um, okay, I'll write a little phone app that automatically spams the requests, and release that to users. Except- oh, for fuck's sake, I need to wait for FDApple to approve it for the app store, and they want us to prove that it works and doesn't contain malware. Except even I don't know if that works, so... okay, it's fine, we'll hire a bunch of testers and do a study that shows that overall it speeds things up, and doesn't kill anyone's machines. Good thing I work for a huge company that can afford to do that.

Aaaaaand here come the results, and- oh, god damn it, the study didn't achieve significance. Let me go get Steve, he can probably fudge the numbers here so the damn app store will let us release the fucking thing, we spent millions on those tests (and the tests of all the other interventions that turned out to do nothing because we didn't have enough information and guessed wrong), and we need to recoup our investment.

Sigh.

So... I'm hearing that the ROI on drug discovery is dropping, and that drug companies have pretty much given up on trying to fix things and have started repackaging the handful of blind hacky API spam tricks that miraculously have a consistent effect. This isn't surprising to me. I would not be surprised if, like, after decades of people banging their heads against a massively overcomplicated system, hitting it with differently-shaped hammers in hopes of getting anything to work... they've found most of the differently-shaped hammers that do anything.

At some point, someone has to invent developer tools, right? Find some way to actually figure out what the hell they're doing?

The big question: given the blatant inadequacy of the existing paradigm, why is the industry still trying to wring blood out of this dried-out stone? At some point, we're going to have to actually figure out what the brain is doing, but it seems like cognitive neuroscience is still in its infancy. "We don't know how this thing works" seems like the big obstacle to getting anything done, but most of the effort in this area still seems to be focused on finding new drugs to throw at the thing-we-don't-know-how-it-works. 

I know I’m not the first person to ask this question. I’m sure everyone who’s ever had to grapple with psychiatry in any detail is lamenting the same issue, and I’m sure there are people who are working very hard to try and solve the problem. It just... doesn’t seem like those people are getting very much done. The most I hear about is pop science articles claiming that Science Has Discovered The Part Of The Brain That Makes You Love Kittens, which inevitably turn out to be irresponsible reporting of extremely modest correlational findings. 

(Maybe AI will help? Maybe the brain is just too complicated to be reduced to something humans can understand on an engineering/problem-solving level, and we need something with a higher understanding-capacity? Except... most of the recent advances in AI are with neural nets that explicitly don't actually understand anything, nor do the researchers growing them.)

Where are we at with this? Are we getting anywhere? Is there encouraging progress in the field of learning-things-about-the-brain? Is the second derivative of that curve non-zero? Metacognitive revolution when?