#and having no energy thanks to my seizure meds

[erythristicbones]

21 pages of my book edited!! wooo!!!

[hislittleraincloud]

Sigh.

I had to explain why Afterburn hasn't been finished yet, so I'll repeat part of how I responded to this really awesome (I mean that...I love all my fans 😭) fan, but here with harsher lang because I have hate for this fucking bitch who hasn't even given me a "Thank you" for anything and has just fucking ghosted me after she got out the last time:

1. The Junkie Neighbor and The Cat. Her fucking going in and out of rehab fucked up my creative process because I had to take care of the cat and her apartment every night for long stretches at a time. I've posted pics of kitty, and will post the last one I think I'll ever take with him (😭😭😭😭😭 I raised him from a kitten) under the cut. This bitch was supposed to be my friend, but she has fucking...problems with herself and her personality disorder. I have zero idea why she hasn't responded and I don't even know where the fuck she is. So if she's reading (I think she knows of this blog), the YOU'RE FUCKING WELCOME, BITCH. And what you're doing right now is fucked up.

2. My 17yo dog is on his last legs. I've written how he's had seizures, but I haven't written how his barking after a seizure can get me a noise complaint from my shitty building manager, so that shit makes me anxious. I hand feed him, I help him get water the same way Peter Griffin helped Old Brian in that cutaway:

I wrap my boy's pills in gummies, not PB and beef 💀

LOL Except I don't have to push his tongue into the water like that. And I have to do it every...day...when he's awake. This is a disruption in my creative process too, because I REALLY wanted to pass out around 4PM today to be able to map and write all night but couldn't because he just would not settle. Dogs with dementia are like people with dementia, but less propensity towards violence when you try to help them (at least my old dogs are...they're small dogs and don't have any teeth left).

I didn't even mention my own health problems, in my explanation about how Afterburn's creation got messed. I've got Stage 4 CKD (kidney disease) and only 1 working kidney (lost the other to cancer in 2016). My kidney issues began when I was in France in 1986 and they failed on me because I ended up having HSP (and the strange nature of HSP and the possibility of certain vaccinations bringing on HSP in a few people has left me practically defenseless against COVID). Another HSP flare up would literally kill me (because there would likely be kidney involvement, and since I only have one left...the first time was Hell on Earth, I was pissing and shitting blood — stool is black when that happens...and my urine was bright red — and my parents thought I was gonna die), but I've been masking since January 2020 and have no intention of unmasking.

Having one kidney leaves me utterly exhausted to do any simple thing, so most of my energy goes to taking care of my boy/my girls. I'm on BP meds, PTSD meds, and pain meds (for chronic pain; I suffered through childhood arthritis that just ended up continuing into my adulthood), and when the Big Pharma pain meds don't work, I use cannabis. I don't really talk about or complain about it as explicitly as I am now bc it's tiring to explain over and over again why I'm a useless sack of 💩. I worked a "normal job" until I couldn't anymore; I am physically disabled.

Besides my seniors, the one other bright spot in my life is the baby. I have an Ask that wants more pics of her (I got it shortly after I posted her "Lookit me, I'm Jenna Ortega 🤓🤓🤓" glasses pic LOL), and I was going to do a whole post on her but I'll just slip a pic or two under the cut with the others.

I'll stop yapping and do that. Dogs under the cut.

This is my life now:

And before anyone gets on me about "HE NEEDS WET FOOD!", he gets wet food, but he likes his dry food. I try to spray it with water for a bit of moisture, but if I spray it too much, he won't eat it.

The orange on his face is pasta sauce (he likes licking cans...and he gets what he wants).🫠 It's sometimes hard to clean. He is always wearing pajamas (he has 6 different ones) and his elephant hoodie (he's got 3 of the same, so I can switch them out). Weird story but...one time several years ago I got him a simple elephant costume (the hood had the trunk, the body was thin jersey material but it also had 4 plush legs and a tail 🤣) and he LOVED it so much that he basically wore it out. He would get sad when it wasn't on him and excited when I would hold it up after it dried/after washing. He's fkn weird, okay? So I looked online to see if I could find another one but instead found the elephant hoodie. It doesn't have legs or a tail, but it has the trunk and it's soft and he likes it as well. Having him clothed really helps when I need to hoist him up onto the couch or help him drink. He doesn't have loose skin and even if he did, I wouldn't want to grab onto skin. It's my job to make him as comfortable as possible, not to hurt him.

Now this little (17yo as well) old lady here:

I inherited her from a nasty (racist) old bat who died right before the pandemic. Bat had CKD as well, but she went into kidney failure at some point after she wouldn't listen to me about fixing her diet (she had uncontrolled diabetes too...her blood sugar was over 400 at one point when I was visiting her at her physical rehab with the dog 😨).

She is blind, but even before she went blind, she was freaky about being handled when she didn't used to be. She can't walk outside because she gets disoriented, so she uses the pee pad set up I have for the seniors. I do love her like my own, as she is my own now (my last screenplay actually features a dog just like her). She was part of the same dog group as my boy in the rescue that I worked at...my other boy from the same rescue passed in 2021 and devastated me. His passing led me to find this little baby here:

She only wears jammies when it's cold in here.

I had never gotten a puppy before, but I was in a really dark place when my other boy died. I was seriously contemplating taking myself out too (God knows I have enough drugs here to do so). But I channeled my grief into cleaning up this place and finding another pomchi/chion (we were never sure what he was, but I think he might've been part Papillon because of his ears/fur/tail)...and I found one, albeit chocolate instead of white. I've had her since she was 8 weeks and a day, and thank the gods that she's the sweetest and pretty low maintenance. I raised her on Harry Potter 1 and 2 and Victoria Stilwell videos, and she somehow picked up what good behavior is vs. bad behavior from the Stilwell videos 😶. She used to howl at Harry Potter during the Neville scenes and the Quidditch matches (and the Mandrakes scene). I didn't want to raise her on Potter, but I chose it because it was kid's thing and as soon as I put it on her eyes were glued to the TV. She also likes Stranger Things and is okay with Wednesday. She's spoiled af, so she's got toys from all of those (she ate off the legs of her fave Harry Potter plush, adores her Eleven squeaky toy, and loves her Enid plush...yes, the Kid Robot one that came in a set with Wednesday and Bianca, the latter of which I kept for myself because it's fkn Bianca).

Anyway. That's what's up with me. I have no one here to help me anymore, so it's just me and the dogs. If I fkn die, no one will find my body for days unless one of the dogs starts barking, and the baby doesn't normally bark (she wheeks like a guinea pig). I will likely ask one of the ficwives if they would be willing to at least know my notes for Afterburn in case something does happen to me. They know the general trajectory of the story for Afterburn 2, so they already know what happens with Wenovan, but they don't know the details of the whole (the Goodmen, Joseph Crackstone & Goody, OG Nightshades (Morticia, Gomez, Larissa, Chancellor, Vincent, Mina (the Twins' mother), Francoise, Osamu (Yoko's father), the Petropoluses, and Grandmama Addams (the oldest living "local" Nightshade)) story. I've yet to decide on a few other Elder Nightshades, but I've got ideas. The Nightshades and Wednesday's power as one are a BIG focus of Afterburn 2, so maybe now you get my irritance at the fkn show deleting 2/3 of them.

My boy's sleeping now so I guess I ought to sleep too, otherwise he'll wake up when I'm about to sleep and THAT fucks me up even more.

ETA: Forgot the pic of the cat.

My buddy, Prince (the name he was given when he was born, so ✨I✨ kept it, but his weirdo mom named him "Tennessee Tuxedo"). Wow, Tennessee... I just now realized that.... To me he will always be Prince Ovaltine of Meowcatsia, a cat who adored playing tag with me. 💔💔💔💔💔

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

not sure if this really belongs here, but i just wanted to share a something i experienced yesterday

first off, let me first say that i have ADHD (diagnosed in 11/2017)

anyways, yesterday i accidentally woke up at like midnight or 1 am but couldn't go back to sleep, and then stayed up till like 10 or 11 pm

which does mean i probably stayed awake for 21 to 23 hours

and i was functioning as well as i usually would, i even had a marching band rehearsal that day and still had energy left over

that's it, sorry if it's not what's supposed to be on your blog

Hi there,

I’ve stayed away about 48 hours before and I was nearly delirious. I have issues with sleep. Even more so now that I have nocturnal seizures. I try my best to get sleep but I almost always get around 4 hours. I stayed awake until 5 am today and woke again to take my meds four hours later around 9 am.

I’ll probably have issues falling asleep tonight, but that’s nothing new.

Thank you for sharing your experience. I appreciate the inbox and I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

[wyrdify]

[ ooc ] small update: I'm dealing with a med change right now (Effexor XR), and we had to lower the dose of it recently because it might be lowering my seizure threshold. I've had days of brain fog and my arm muscles feeling super tense while the dang thing also causes some insomnia. You know, super great thing for an epileptic (sarcasm).

I called my neurologist last Monday, but I never heard back, so I may call again this week to see what she recommends. The Effexor is actually helping with my energy levels a bit, so I don't want to completely discard it if I don't have to. I can always go higher on my anti-epileptic drug (Zonegran) because I'm on such a low dose. We shall see.

Either way, things have been on and off a bit scary for me. I would never wish seizures on anyone, no matter the type. The loss of control over your own body is terrifying and dehabilitating. Plus, there's always that lingering fear of SUDEP (sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) in the back of my head that has me paranoid and scared. I've been seizure free for close to eight years now, so I have a good track record, but living years without the seizures controlled instilled that sort of fear in me.

I also like being able to drive and have that freedom and not be a risk to other people on the road because I lost control of my vehicle. Another fear of mine. Epilepsy made me very scared of living when my seizures weren't under control, to be honest. I am so thankful mine can actually be controlled by medication since so many seizure disorders can't be.

Anyway, all this to say that writing anything that isn't poetry is still on hold. My health takes priority. My muses don't want to give me shit anyway.

[indynerdgirl]

UPDATE 12/01/2023 (This will be my last update to this post unless something drastically changes, good or bad. Thank you all so much for your prayers for Vianney, Jennifer, and the entire Cripe family. 🙏🏻)

[IMAGE TEXT:

3 Months! And oh, what a journey its been. I pray her next 3 months are less exciting - boring sounds pretty good around here right now. We got to take Vianney home with us on 11/20, just in time for Thanksgiving. Right before she came home, she started giving us some small sounds and looking around more, each day she got more and more alert (and has continued to do so!). She also was completely seizure free while she was on the EEG for 72hrs. Which is so incredible and another answered prayer! We were able to wean her two IV seizure meds off before coming home and are now working to wean one of her four remaining seizure meds down. I am praying she does well and we might be able to wean a second one off soon too. She is still feeding by NG tube and taking her meds through this as well. It's been a learning experience for us but Shad and I are figuring it out (Shad had a middle of the night ER visit with her this week after multiple tubes kept clogging). I am still hopeful she may be able to nurse again one day but we still aren't there yet. In the meantime, I continue round the clock pumping (which can sometimes be stressful itself and no fun but I am grateful to still be able to feed her this way). Since we've been home, Vianney has been showing off her lungs and giving us lots of good noises now! And while I will always be so grateful to hear them, I wouldn't hate it if it was a little less frequent at night. ❤ It seems our little lady has her days and nights mixed up (no surprise given she'd been in the hospital for so long) so we are working on that. A few nights ago she was up from 11pm - 5am and ooph this mama was tired the next day. And unfortunately I keep scheduling virtual appointments/home health visits while Zelie naps. She is stiff and sometimes struggles to straighten out but we are gently working on that. And still unsure of how much she can see and hear but she does startle to loud noises at least! It's taken me a while to post an update, mainly because I've been so tired and whatever energy I do have has been put towards the girls and just trying to resettle into our home/reestablish our routines. Each day we are figuring life with her out though but every moment continue to be grateful for her! She is such a gift and we treasure it as a most wonderful blessing from God. Cecilia adores holding her as much as she can throughout the day and I'm pretty sure Zelie has her own "kiss quota" she has to hit - she kisses her randomly all day long ❤ We remain incredibly, incredibly grateful for all those lifting us up in prayer, the meal train, the grocery shopping, the donations, and everything else in between. My family feels so loved by so many. I continue to ask the Blessed Ulma family's intercession for her healing and for her to make gains that surpass every doctor's expectations. Jesus, I trust in you. God, thy will be done.]

[Image Text: Please, please, please, if you even so much as glance at this post - share it for us and help us storm heaven!!! Our little girl needs a miracle and I beg any and every one of you to pray, pray, pray! Even if you don't know how to pray, please just ask God to heal Vianney’s brain. Now is the time for her miracle. We are devastated. Ever since we first found out about her diagnosis of left hemimegalencephaly, we have been praying and asking you all to pray that her right brain be spared. And you have shown up and helped us pray for this intention! All along the doctors have told us how strong and beautiful her right brain looked. However, this all changed sometime in the night between Friday and Saturday. At a time when we thought we were in the clear and were actually making plans to go home in a couple of weeks (!), something happened. The doctors can't explain it, they are looking into every avenue, as this was completely unexpected and unexplainable. She was awake. She was breathing on her own. She was moving. Shad was with her Friday night and video chatted me and I could not wait to see her the next day, finally alert! But suddenly very early that morning she took a turn and stopped responding. That's when her seizures started and they were indeed coming from the right side this time, due to whatever injury the right side sustained. They said her injury looks consistent with hypoxic-ischemic encephalopathy but none of her vitals ever changed and her labs have remained great. There is truly no explanation at this time. My heart is broken. I cry out to God to understand why, in this final moment, when we were so close to her recovery, did this happen? I am trusting in Him with all my might and KNOW in my heart and soul that He is loving her far greater than I, but oh man I am absolutely broken. She has lost 40-60% of function in her right brain. Even typing it out and reading it in this post is too cruel to bear. They don't expect that she is in dire life threatening circumstances yet but they also can't say that her brain won't be injured further - since we still don't have a cause. Even if she survives all of this and is able to come home, we don't yet know what kind of life our little, beautiful perfect girl will have with only 25% of her brain. At this point, the most basic expectation is that she will not be able to walk or talk along with many other difficulties. She is outside of what they can do (other than trying to prevent more damage) and is truly in God's hands now. I told our priest yesterday before we got the full news - perhaps God is giving us the most dire of circumstances to give us the most miraculous of recoveries. In a world that needs to witness a miracle more than ever, I am praying to God that He show us one now. Please, please, please, keep praying for our Vianney - that her brain is completely healed and she can defy all medical expectations. And if now is the time for a miracle, then we are asking you to also beg for the prayers of the Blessed Ulma family. Soon I will share more about this incredible family, but for now we are asking them to pray along with us for our little Vianney’s miracle!]

Please storm heaven for my friend's little girl! 🙏

You can follow their GiveSendGo for updates

Prayer for the Intercession of the Ulma Family

Almighty and eternal God,

We thank You for the testimony of the heroic love of the spouses Józef and Wiktoria with their children, who gave their lives to save persecuted Jews.

May their prayers and example support families in Christian life and help everyone to follow the true path of holiness.

Lord, if it is in accordance with Your will, kindly grant the grace for the complete healing of little Vianney, for which we are asking You through their intercession and count them among the Blessed.

Through Christ Our Lord

Amen

Our Father…, Hail Mary…, Glory Be…

[thattheatretrash]

hi so once again i am turning to tumblr bc idk what else to do

need some chronic pain related advice so if you can relate or know someone who does please read below

little background about me: i've had chronic pain for almost two years now, and still no solid diagnosis. different things have been thrown out there, but a lot of the tests i've had done have come back negative, not significant, or inconclusive. the only thing that was ever yes yes definitely positive was a mri of my thighs that showed inflammation. however, a couple months later when i had a muscle biopsy of my thighs done, they ruled it not significant, and it didn't point to a further diagnosis. my rheumatologist decided to put me on prednisone anyway, and it HELPED SO MUCH. at least temporarily, i'm tapering it now since it's not good to be on long term. but it helped with my energy levels and my pain/numbness/weakness/tingling/burning/tingling pain in my lower body. i definitely couldn't have finished college without it.

recently, i was put on lots of different meds, and i've been have a bad flareup and new weird symptoms since the beginning of the summer. i also started using weed to help manage pain and fatigue and it helped a lot. however, because i've had so many new (and some very severe) symptoms and couldn't tell anymore what was a side effect and was a symptom, i decided to stop/taper every medication/drug that i could about a week ago (with my PCP's help). i'm still adjusting.

however, the thing i'm probably most concerned about rn is my new neurological symptoms that have been progressing. while i've had things like sensory issues or brain fog in the past, it's taken such an intense turn to the point that i'm pretty sure i've started having seizures? i hesitate to say that in case i'm wrong but i've been having them a lot. since stopping my meds, it seems to be helping slightly. my brain doesn't feel as overloaded. but i'm still kind of having them. i did go to the ER for one after i had an episode in the urgent care waiting room, and they did a CT which looked fine. they diagnosed it as a "headache" and told me to call my rheumatologist to get off my mycophelate mofetil since they thought it was contributing (and i think it definitely was, especially to my digestive system issues, brain fog, and weird random i'm so sad but idk why mood swing things).

i guess my question is, for people who have had seizures start developing later in life, how did you know it was a seizure? i mean i've looked up stuff online so i'm pretty sure but of course i can't really be sure. and how do you manage seizures day-to-day?

also, for people with chronic pain in general, how do you get people to believe you? i just feel like everyone is starting to think my pain is psychosomatic, which i think of course, some of it is. everyone experiences psychosomatic pain sometimes, and i do have a history of mental illness. but i actually feel pretty good right now!! and i'm doing everything i can to limit my stress, pay attention to my body, give myself positive affirmations, rest, do some gentle movement throughout the day, sleeping a lot (8+ hours usually) on a regular schedule, trying to eat a decent diet, meditate, stretch, i mean, i am really trying everything i can.

but i just don't know what do sometimes. so any advice, especially from other people with chronic pain, is super appreciated. and thank you for reading all of this if you did. i hope you are having a wonderful day!! here's to the lovely journey of becoming closer and more loving with our bodies.

[clatterbane]

Over some pretty freaking strong reservations, I just took the first before bed dose of that amitriptyline the GP decided to try me on for the damned nerve pain. 😒 If I'm not around tomorrow, at least y'all will know what happened.

Only 75% joking, btw. I don't have the energy (or Sanity Watchers Points) to go into it much right now, but I really am way less concerned about continuing on the tramadol they're wanting to swap this out for, than I am about (a) ANY antidepressants in my body, given the history there, much less (b) ones that are not even first line treatment for nerve pain anymore elsewhere--never mind as antidepressants--thanks to the ugly side effect profiles. 😰

I mean, I wasn't happy to find out that the tramadol is apparently specifically indicated against nerve pain because it also has SNRI properties. Thankfully, my system has been handling that OK so far, at least in the low doses prescribed and alongside another med that actually started out as an anticonvulsant. Here's hoping the pregabalin will also be enough to balance out the decreased seizure threshold from the low doses of amitriptyline used for nerve pain. *fingers crossed* Though that really wouldn't help with the rest.

(My mom also ended up in the hospital with I think her liver trying to shut down thanks to one tricyclic or another when I was a kid--and we did seem to have the same funky ethnic liver chemistry variations going to cause great unexpected medication reactions. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Got that straight from her too. So yeah, that's extra fun to consider.)

Besides the basic fact of their monkeying around with pain meds that are actually mostly working, with tolerable side effects, because overblown Concerns around even low doses of barely-opioids like tramadol? I am also frustrated and resenting the hell out of not feeling safe to even open up the whole "I have reacted Very VERY Badly to this whole slew of antidepressants" can of worms.

Especially in a new system where I do have a clean slate that way so far, and I really do not know how heavy a stigma that experience may carry--or how liable it might be to hurt my chances of ever getting taken seriously about anything ever again. 😬

"Just" antidepressants certainly did seem to get treated as way more serious shit (and not given out for the same wide variety of things) in the UK compared to the US, IME. I have no idea about prevailing attitudes here, much less how much just plain personal bias my already ND-looking ass might encounter from any given medical professional.

(Hell, I don't feel like I can mention the ED history where it really is an extremely relevant complicating factor, lest that bite me straight in the ass. With potentially lethal results, no exaggeration unfortunately required. Especially when it is relevant to problems such as "I am having clear physiological problems with swallowing much, while T1 diabetic".)

Of course that shit is even more harmful to folks who are currently dealing with more obvious ongoing psych issues. That's part of what pisses me off so bad about the whole mess of medical ableism around this stuff.

ETA: And apparently I had more ranting energy left in me right now than I thought. 👿)

[medusasheadgame]

Been having a lot of night terrors lately. Like I won't even sleep next to anyone anymore kind of bad. Each one out does the last it seems.

At first it was about the possibilities of things I had done while blackout drunk. I was literally having dreams where I was torturing and maiming a stranger because they told me over and over that my best friends and my soulmate were going to die and it would all be my fault. I brought this dream to my best friend and support system because it was shaking me, eating me alive. Then my friends and support system reasoned me through it, reminding me that even when I was at my worst, no matter what drugs I used and how much alcohol I had consumed, I have never been capable of allowing true ruthlessness to rule my life. They reminded me that I am kind, compassionate and good at my core. They reminded me that even on my worst day, and even if that were really a memory, that I am not who I used to be.

So this dream stopped recurring last night when I got off the phone with my mentor. Enter the second eldest of my night terrors. I'm sitting in a restaurant with my adoptive parents. We are out celebrating my 3.8 GPA and the pre-med courses I'm about to begin in 2 weeks time. I'm 19 again. This mom and pop diner we sit in is one I've eaten at since age 8 when I first moved to this part of the country. Back then it had a smoking section, but in my night terrors I never have cigarettes, nor does anyone smoke (probably subconscience depriving me of comfort). So as it happened then, my childhood rapist walks in the door of the restaurant. He gives me a nod and a smirk, and the script changes from the memory. (I've done a lot of growing here, I realize now) I walk to his table and sit with him. I tell him how what he did to me was heinous. I tell him that I understand that hurt people hurt people and the things he had lived through were monstrous.. I tell him that I can now see that what he went through was so incredibly inhumane it scarred him, and marred his perspective. I tell him that when we grow up we can continue the cycle or we can break it and I have broken our cycle. His abuse died with me. And I walked away okay. Far different from how that one usually goes.

Then tonight. I swear my ex talks to me every night before bed. 3 months since he passed and I still hear his voice clear as day. He warned me, have anything close to help me with energy. So I slept with his favorite hat next to me and an old friends ring on.

I'm out in an SUV with my two best friends. But something is off. Both of my female best friends are women who support and empower other women, love other women. But both are telling me that the other is an imposter. There to harm me, to feed on me. So we walk and drive all over town while both of them allow me to get drunk. I should've seen it coming. The best friend who is normal (not an alcoholic) is the only one acting sober (when I got plastered back in the day she was always saving my ass from the cops and telling me when to run and doing the reasonable things a best friend does for their alcoholic best friend). She whispers in my ear, warns me of what's going to happen when the car stops. I laugh and say not possible.. My other best friend (who irl has 3 years clean and sober today) starts acting like she's on a bad batch of meth, convulsing and seizing. I treat it like a seizure/heart attack, checking her pulse, scooping the foam from her mouth so she doesn't choke. I can't find a belt anywhere but as I was looking she had climbed onto me and was trying to eat through my shoulder and ribs. Every time she pulled away I could see my flesh and soul/energy stretch and snap from her jaws. I woke up swinging, trying to fight something off.

As I awoke I heard my ex's voice again. He says "you're okay, you made it. I tried to warn you." I say thank you and flip on the light. My watch says 3:00 am. My phone says 2:45. I can breathe again.

[danversxluthor]

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back  (Pt 2 of Seizing Life)

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

As Loraine embraces her new freedom, her headaches get worse and new symptoms come to light. Lo wants her life to be normal but she can’t hide the obvious from her moms.

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

Loraine enjoyed her new found freedom over the next few weeks. She was able to take the bus to school again and walk around the city on her own. She even got to spend her afternoons alone at home before her moms got home from work. It was a small thing, but it was the little pieces of freedom in her day to day life that she missed the most. 

Today Loraine was homework free, a rare occasion given she went to a school hell bent on keeping students busy in preparation for high profile careers in demanding fields. Even though Loraine was exhausted, she decided to take the opportunity to make a stop at L-Corp to see what her mom was up to in the lab. She loved visiting L-Corp and seeing and playing around with the prototypes.  

“Hi Mom!” Loraine greeted as she walked into the lab. Lena was focused and looking through a microscope. “Whatcha working on?” Loraine sat on one of the lab stools opposite Lena. The teen’s body had been feeling a bit achy lately, possibly a side effect of going out and being more active thanks to her new found freedom.  

“A new biologic…” Lena was still focused on the microscope. “Its part of the cancer research I was telling you about.” Lena finally looked up. 

“As much as it is always a wonderful surprise to see you Lo, shouldn’t you be at home finishing your homework?” Lena raised a warning eyebrow. She couldn’t really be made at Loraine for visiting, but she felt it was her parental duty to instill some boundaries. Lena also didn’t want Loraine staying up too late, she had noticed Loraine seemed tired a lot more lately. 

“Finished it during lunch.” Loraine beamed with triumph. “Plus I haven't visited in awhile and figured it was time to see what you're doing to my future empire.” Loraine often joked with Lena about taking over the company. 

“Your empire, huh? Nice try, but you’ll have to earn it first Loraine.” 

“I know, I know…. Just making a prediction”  

“Come here I want to show you something R&D just sent.” Loraine followed Lena over to another lab table where a small cellphone sized device was displayed along with a slew of other engineering tools. “It's a therma projection radar. It can scan a person and project health risks for vital signs.” Loraine picked up a calibration tool and was fiddling around with it as Lena explained the science. Aparatenly the prototype was under performing and Lena was going to make some updates to it herself before considering any further manufacturing options. 

Clang clang. The tool that had been in Loraine’s hand crashed to the floor. Lena immediately stopped and looked at Loraine. 

“Lo, you have to be more careful.” Loraine quickly picked up the tool and set it back down on the table gently. 

“Sorry” Loraine apologized to Lena, hoping the tool wasn't anything custom made.

“It's ok,” Lena looked at Loraine trying to see if there were any signs of a potential seizure. Loraine noticed Lena’s concerned gaze.

“Mom, I’m fine. Just a little clumsy.” Loraine reassured and sat back down on the lab stool trying to conceal a yawn.

“And tired.” Lena added. 

“Ok, clumsy and tired.” Loraine conceded and looked down. She hated when her mom got overly concerned about her. Even though she knew it was her mom’s job to be worried about her, Loraine couldn’t help feeling like a burden.

“Are you sleeping ok at night?” Lena asked as she started packing away her research. 

“Yeah, I get plenty of sleep. It’s just been a long week that’s all.” Loraine tried to brush it off.

“Just let us know if you aren’t feeling well sweetie.” 

“I’m fine.” Loraine rolled her eyes and gave a heavy sigh.

“Ok.” Lena raised her hands in surrender not wanting to push the teen too much.

The pair headed off home in Lena’s private car shortly after. Even though Lena had more work, she wanted to give Loraine the chance to relax and maybe take a nap before dinner. Lena even got an email from Loraine’s science teacher expressing concern over the fact that Loraine fell asleep during his class. 

The ride was relatively quiet. Lena went through emails on her phone and Loraine just stared out the window trying to stay awake. The teen had had a dully headache for the past several days and it was starting to turn into a pounding headache. When they were finally home and in the garage, Loraine moved rather slowly to exit the car, her headache making her feel off balance. Every movement felt like a lot of work given how tired and achy Loraine was. Lena was out of the car and already waiting for Loraine near the door, wondering what was taking so long. Loraine stood up from the car, but the ground felt strange and unsteady. Loraine braced herself on the car and squeezed her eyes shut, the unsteady feeling made her feel slightly nauseated. Loraine tried to take a step but stumbled forward and fell to her knees. The driver rushed over to help Loraine up as Lena did the same. 

“Lo, are you ok?” Lena asked holding Loraine’s shoulders.

Loraine nodded and gave a small embarrassed smile. “Thanks Felix. I’m fine, really.” Despite her words Loraine’s voice seemed a bit shaky. Felix made sure Lena and Loraine were safely inside before taking off. 

Loraine had minor scrapes on her knees with minimal blood and mere scratches on her hands, nothing to be concerned about. Loraine’s movement still felt awkward and slow which she blamed on being tired. 

“Let's take care of those scrapes.” Lena walked toward the bathroom and looked back to see if Loraine was coming too. She noticed that Loraine was moving slowly and with greater care, as if she were afraid of falling once more. The truth was, Loraine still felt unsteady with each step and she just wanted to make it from point A to point B without another fall. 

Lena had Loraine sit on the small chair in front of her vanity as she kneeled and cleaned and bandaged Loraine’s knees and hands. Loraine was too tired to react to the sting of the antiseptic cream. When Lena finished up, she remained on her knees looking into her tired daughter’s eyes and asked once more. 

“Sweetheart , are you sure you’re ok?” Lena waited for Loraine to respond, but the teen just looked away. “Its ok if you’re not. I just want to know so I can help.” Lena took Loraine’s hand in her own and noticed the teen’s hand was shaking. All Lena wanted was to comfort and reassure her daughter. When Loraine finally looked back it was with tears trickling down her face. 

“I’m just really tired.” Loraine admitted quietly. She didn't have the energy to explain how the ground felts funny and besides she didn't want her mom to have even more reason to worry. Lena whipped away Loraine’s tears. She was relieved Loraine was talking to her but also worried there might be more to it than exhaustion. 

“That’s alright sweetie. Why don’t we get you in bed, hm? You can rest and I’ll come wake you for dinner. How’s that?” Loraine nodded in agreement and let her mom help her up and to her room. Loraine didn't even protest at the assistance. She was too tired and unsteady to pull herself together enough to get there anyway. Lena was surprised at just how unsteady Loraine was. 

Loraine slept for a couple hours, but was still exhausted when Lena retrieved her for dinner. 

“Mm not hungry.” Loraine mumbled into her pillow. 

“Sweetheart you have to have a little something to eat with your meds.” Lena gently pulled back the covers and ran her hand up and down Loraine’s back, which always seemed to coax Loraine out of a deep slumber. Instead of leaving, Lena helped Loraine up and stayed beside her just in case Loraine needed the support. Lena was happy to see that sleep seemed to do Loraine some good as the teen made it down the stairs without a problem.  

“Grandma Eliza still wants to know if you want cinnamon rolls or blueberry muffins for Christmas breakfast Lo.” Kara looked to Loraine, waiting for the teen’s response. Loraine had been awfully quiet throughout dinner and barely touched her food. “Loraine?” Kara tried again. 

“Just weighing my options,” Loraine joked, “it's a big decision, but I’m leaning toward the muffins.” 

“Good choice, those muffins are legendary.” Kara had tried many times to bake Eliza’s recipe but it never turned out quite right.

Clank Loraine dropped her fork causing a loud reverberating noise. 

“Sorry!” Loraine quickly picked up her utensil from the floor and went to get another from the kitchen.

“That's alright sweetie. While you’re in the kitchen could you get me a glass of water?” Kara asked.

“Sure.” Loraine retrieved the water and clean fork and dinner went by as usual. Kara noticed Loraine’s hand shaking as she set the water down in front of her. She gave Lena a concerned look, but Lena was already watching her daughter’s every move. The parents silently agreed to discuss later. 

As dinner continued Loraine seemed more and more withdrawn. She altogether stopped moving and was staring blankly at her plate. Internally Loraine was entirely consumed by the throbbing of her head, so much so that she was oblivious to the conversation around her. Lena got up from her seat and went to kneel by Loraine so she was eye level with her daughter. 

“Lo, sweetie, what's going on?” Lena asked in a quiet voice. Lena knew from her extensive research on seizures that not all types of seizures involve convulsions, some can simply look like someone staring blankly and being unresponsive. 

“Hmm…” Loraine seemed to come to, “Wh… what?” Loraine was trying her hardest to focus on her surroundings now, which was still difficult with her headache.

“Are you feeling ok, Loraine?” Lena asked, still kneeling in front of Loraine. Kara was up and prepared to help in any way possible if Loraine was about to have a seizure. 

“Sorry,” Loraine looked down to her plate then back up, “I’m just a little out of it... I think I just want to lie down.” Lena looked at Loraine unconvinced. Kara made sure Loraine got into bed ok before joining Lena back downstairs. To her surprise Loraine didn't even protest at the help, the teen was too out of it to realize what was happening. 

“How is she?” Lena asked.

“She’s exhausted, maybe even coming down with the flu or something.” Kara was lost in thought and concern. “I’ve just never seen her like this. I mean sure it was bad last year, but this is different, isn't it?” Kara looks to her wife, who is on her phone typing. 

“Alex agreed to see her tomorrow to run some tests.” Lena looked up from her phone. “You’re right, this is different or…” Lena trailed off in thought but shook her head.

“What is it?” Kara asked.

“Its… what if Loraine doesn't have a seizure disorder. What if the seizures were just one symptom of something else.” Lena had done extensive research on pediatric seizure conditions as well as other conditions that caused seizures. There were a few conditions Lena was concerned may match Loraine’s current state.

[robinruns]

(Pulled from my instagram account)

This is gonna be a long post, so feel free to keep scrolling, but I’d like to commemorate the day.

A year ago today I started taking antidepressants. I had started therapy at the end of September and while I had hoped that alone would help me overcome depression, it quickly became clear that I knew I needed something more to help.

On the day prior I called my doctor’s office. I was feeling so so so low and I couldn’t take it anymore. They got me in right away, and thankfully my work let me go on literally zero notice. I filled out a survey about the frequency of my symptoms and when my doctor reviewed it. We discussed everything and she decided that I should try Wellbutrin xl. It’s an extended release medication, so I take it in the morning and it helps as this particular drug helps with low energy which was one of my most frustrating symptoms I have, especially as a runner. 

Hearing that I was being put on Wellbutrin was an immediate relief because a couple weeks prior I had watched an interview with Gerard Way where he very openly discussed going to therapy, and being on the same medication. My love of My Chemical Romance has been very well documented here, or rather everywhere, and I’ve always counted myself as one of those fans whose life was saved by their music. So to hear that the lead singer of the band that means the most to me was on the same meds I was about to start? So incredibly important.

And that’s what got me thinking about being open and honest about mental health. If knowing someone I looked up to was on meds for mental health, then maybe me being open and honest about it could help someone else, ya know? While not every day is great, the medication really evened me out. The bad days aren’t the worst anymore, but it hasn’t dampened the good days. I’m not numb emotionally.

Another thing that has gone hand-in-hand with the antidepressants has been sobriety. I asked my doctor if I was able to drink while taking the medication and she said I could, but I would need to be very very careful about the amount I consumed, as it could trigger seizures. I decided at that moment to again follow the lead of Gerard Way and gave up drinking. I figured it was easiest to just say none at all. In social situations, I felt like the odd one out, but thanks to COVID, that quickly became a non-issue. But to the people that have made comments like "when will you be able to drink again?!" or "it's more fun when you're drinking!" It isn't cute, even if you think you mean well.

So anyway very long story short (even though I could keep going), if you need help with your mental health, do not hesitate to ask for it. If you need someplace to start, I can try to help steer you in the right direction. If you want someone to talk to about your experiences, feel free to message me!

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (15)

The water in the stream lapped at its banks swelling from the melting mountain snow. You and Bethany brought out sand bags and placed them around the perimeter of the house. How high the water rose depended on the snowfall. It always flooded in the bend of the stream which is why you never understood why Helene built here. “Rushing water holds energy. It amplifies everything we do.” It also amplified the chance that you’d be redoing the floors in a few weeks.

“Why can’t your mother just use her powers? This would be a lot easier.” Bethany would ask as she dropped another bag.

“Because there are consequences to us using our powers which is why I was shipped off.”

“And here I thought it was so you didn’t face prosecution for almost killing Bobby.” You flicked mud at her.

“I didn’t almost kill him. He was fine.” She threw mud back.

“He pissed himself. Charles Xavier had to tell everyone he had a seizure.” You both laughed.

“Girls! Get cleaned up for dinner.” Helene called from the porch.

“Yes, Aunt Helene” you said in unison.

“Why can’t you stay? We miss you.”

“You know it’s for all our own good, Bethy. I’m the only one with a dangerous power.”

“Hey! I can freeze stuff!”

You giggled, “Yeah only if everyone is real quiet and you are well hydrated.”

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

You often dreamed of being back home but it was rare they were good dreams. Mostly you had nightmares about the day everyone died. Rarely did you have dreams when you felt happy.

You woke up a little misty eyed. Goodness did you miss your family. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear Steve calling your name. “Earth to Y/N. You ok?”

“Yeah. Bad dream.” You got out of bed and started getting ready for your day. He watched you smiling as you hummed your way through your morning routine. You were not in your usual work attire when you finished.

“Where are you going today?” he asked confused. “Aren’t you usually a little more put together for work?”

“I have the day off. I have Strange all morning and then off to Dr. Calloway.” You wrapped your arms around his waste. He hugged you back.

“Will you tell your doctor about your bad dreams? You looked so lost this morning. I hate seeing my girl that way.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I am not your boss. I am not giving you orders. Just the concerned boyfriend.”

“Yes. My very bossy boyfriend. I’ll tell him. It’s not like he ever really explores anything. It’s all ‘how does that make you feel?’ and ‘Let’s up your anti depressants.’”

“Does that work?”

“Would work if I was actually depressed. I think I might stop seeing him after today’s session.” Steve’s whole body got stiff.

“Why? Since you’ve been seeing him you haven’t accidentally shocked anyone.”

“That wasn’t his doing. I didn’t shock you in Germany did I?” No. Loki taught you how to control yourself. He would scoff at anti-depressants. Nothing was wrong with them if they were actually doing anything for you. They just dulled your senses and made you feel nauseous. “Well. I have to get going.”

“No breakfast?” You smiled at him over your shoulder.

“I’ll grab a banana on the way out. Love you!”

“Love you too. Hey! We have a mission briefing at four. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir.” They asked you to run point on an operation in Alaska. It was dealing with enhanced people and there was some intel that said they were a lot like you. That was the only information they gave.

Steve waited until he saw your car drive down the road before he called Tony. “We have a problem. She’s talking about leaving Dr.Calloway’s care.”

“Shit. Ok. I’ll call and give him a heads up. She cannot stop taking those meds, Steve. Not until we can convince Strange to bind her powers.”

Steve squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Are we sure we want to do this? Maybe Strange is right. With the proper training she can control it. She was doing well with Loki. She never hurt me again.”

“Cap, maybe one day you’ll be on our side. I read her SHIELD file. Fury was right. The girl is a nuclear bomb with a short fuse. This Alaska thing is huge. We need her to control herself. A lot of lives are at stake. Get it together, Steve.” With that Tony hung up.

Steve felt nauseous. He hated doing this to you. He adored you. If you found out he was lying to you...he hated to think what you’d do. He’d deserve it. He picked up the phone and called the only person he believed would be able to guide him.

“Professor? This is Steve Rogers. I’m wondering if you would have some time talk to me about one of your former students. I can be there within the hour. Thank you, sir. I’ll see you soon.” He grabbed the keys to his bike and headed to the school.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You made it a few minutes early to Doctor Strange. You were spooked every time you went to the mansion on Bleeker. Wong greeted you at the door and said Strange would be meeting you shortly. You browsed the volumes on the bookshelves. You selected one that looked tattered but well loved. When you opened the pages it blinked out of your hands and was replaced by a cup of tea. You actually liked the tea.

“That is not for you. Let’s get started.”

“What’s that one about? Transfiguration? Can I learn that?”

“Not today. Focus, Y/N.”

Strange was always a bit terse with you. He had absolutely no patience. You wished someone else was teaching you. You received no feedback unless you did something wrong. He didn’t tolerate chit chat or small talk of any kind. At least when you worked with Wong he gave you treats when you did something well. The only consolation you got was that you knew he was looking out for you. That meant sometimes he told you things you wished you didn’t have to hear.

“Your boss came to see me yesterday. He asked me to bind your powers. I told him to fuck off.” You felt like the air left your body. You knew Fury had secret plans for you but Tony? He was supposed to be a good guy.

“Did he say why?”

“Yes. Some crap about you killing a kid when you were younger. That attack at the school. I know what happened that day. You don’t have to worry about me. Just saying watch your back. They are escalating from the Wolfsbane.”

You wanted to ask if Steve knew but you were sure he did. Tears started flowing down your cheeks which made Strange uncomfortable. “You are doing well here, kid. We can be done for today. See you next week.” Before you had a chance to say anything he shoved you through a portal.

“I know how to use a door!” You shouted towards the house. You shot Steve a text letting him know you were done a little early if he wanted to have lunch. When he didn’t answer after a few minutes you decided to completely blow off your doctor’s appointment and go shopping instead. It’s pretty rare when you had time to yourself these days so you decided to take advantage.

Escalating from the wolfsbane. It was entirely possible that your boss and your boyfriend knew they were poisoning you. It was also possible they didn’t if they were fed wrong information. There were some studies that showed Aconite in low low doses can help with anxiety and in rare cases heart failure. You had to know how to handle the herb correctly. Even the most practiced healer would try a thousand other herbs before this one. Dr. Calloway didn’t seem like he was on the up and up from your first visit. When you read the label on the medicine bottle you decided not to take it because you knew what it was. You showed it to Strange who suggested you call the police since you were being poisoned. “He’s clearly not a licensed medical professional. There are hundreds of safe drugs on the market to handle anxiety. This will kill you.”

The two of you compounded an antidote for the medication. You tell Steve it’s vitamins. The little person in your head was frantically waving red flags at you. Not a good sign that he watched you take the pills every day. Not good at all.

🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞

The first time walking into Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was intimidating. It sat on a large expanse of land which was crawling with children. A few of the younger kids ran up to Steve marveling at him. “It’s Captain America!” They shouted. He gave high fives and pats on the head. Ororo greeted him at the front door.

“Captain Rogers. Nice to meet you. I’m Ororo Munroe. I am an instructor here and I work directly with Professor Xavier. He’s just finishing up a class. I’ll show you to his office.” Steve shook her hand. He was mesmerized by the crystal blue of her eyes.

“This is a cool operation you have here. Not unlike the Avengers compound except we only house adult children.”

“Trust me we have several of those ourselves. Tell me, the Professor said you were inquiring about a former student. I’ve been here for quite some time. Perhaps I can help.”

“Sure. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s working with us on a operation in Alaska. She also happens to be my girlfriend.” Ororo paused for a moment.

“Of course. How is she doing? Terrible what happened to her family. She was a great student. What kind of mission are you going on that you’d need that kind of fire power?” Steve stayed quiet until they were sure to be away from tiny ears.

“She’s doing well. Her power is what I wanted to talk to Professor Xavier about.”

A voice came from out of nowhere. It was gentle tinged with a hint of amusement. “Y/N is quite a woman. Your team is lucky to have her at your disposal.” Steve shook his hand and sat in the chair across from the large desk. Ororo and a few other X-men protectively flanked the Professor.

“She is, sir, though I may be a bit biased. The reason I’m here is because members of my team have expressed some concern about the strength of her power and her inability to control herself in times of great stress. She has been taking a medication called Aconite prescribed by a Dr. Calloway to help with stress and anxiety....”

A woman whom he did not immediately notice spoke up, “Aconite is Wolfsbane, Captain Rogers. It’s poisonous. It also strips powers. Why would she ever agree to that?” Based on your description Steve guessed this was your Aunt Agatha. The tension in the room grew considerably. He was unaware that he was poisoning you.

“You must be Aunt Agatha. I’ve heard a lot about you....” Steve stood to shake her hand when another woman interrupted.

“The doctor told her they are anti-depressants. I’m Jean Grey. Don’t get up, Captain Rogers. They lied to both of you. Stephen Strange will never agree to bind her powers. Not against her will. You people are unbelievable.” Steve’s jaw clenched. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. The Professor saw him getting overwhelmed so he ordered everyone out except Agatha.

“Captain Rogers, Y/N is quite capable of controlling herself. There were a few incidents when she was younger but she’s come a long way. From what we hear she is doing quite well under Stephen Strange’s tutelage. Why bind her now?”

“I agree. There are those who don’t. I’ve read her SHIELD file. She killed a kid on these grounds under your care. For the safety of this mission we need her to be in as much emotional control as possible. We are working under SHIELD on this one so I’m afraid any details are classified.” He tossed the folder on his desk. Xavier and Agatha read over the incident report.

“This report is inaccurate. We were under attack on the day in question. As an older student she was charged with getting younger students to safety. This young man was too severely injured. He died in her arms. She was able to absorb his power of empathy. It took several months of therapy and training to cope with the gravity of this new skill.” Xavier looked away from him as he recalled the day. It was obviously very painful.

Steve grew more agitated. It was clear someone was lying to him and now he was an accomplice in poisoning you. He thanked the Professor for his time and decided to take the long way home to cool off. “Captain Rogers. Fear of our unique abilities is what started the war all those years ago. You need not fear what you don’t understand.”

“I love her, Professor. I’m not afraid of her. I’m afraid of what other people want with her. I’m not going to let anyone use her anymore. You have my word.” The only thing Steve wanted to do was get to Tony to find out why he was pushing so hard to bind you.

“Scott, find out what interest the Avengers have in Alaska. Why are they being sent there?” The Professor sent out a team to do some reconnaissance work. Perhaps the X-men would join the Avengers on their trip.

[brainsdivided]

Shattered Hearts and Broken Dreams - Chapter 4

13 September 2293

The Colorado river flowing between the carved cliffs with Hoover Dam holding back Lake Mead was a sight to behold. The final frontier of Legion territory.

Despite Joshua’s unfortunate history with the Mojave region, he was thankful to be back. Ezekiel’s condition had quickly collapsed within the days it took to reach the Mojave.  No longer able to walk much anymore, the boy had to be carried most of the day. To help free his arms, Joshua made a makeshift harness that strapped the boy to his person. On his back, the boy suffered quietly from his illness.

Having approached a ferryman on the river, he handed him a few coins before they got to move across in the dead of night. As the raft slowly moved across the river, Joshua softly whispered to Ezekiel, "It isn't far from here anymore, son." Genuine concern about the boy's deteriorating health was visible in his voice. He reached behind him and clasped Ezekiel’s blistering hand in his own.

"It hurts so badly." He whispered, his energy so far gone that he could barely muster out a cry. Blood stained his clothes and his skin was discolored in patches of red and his skin seemed to radiate heat from the fever that was brewing.

Joshua nodded and turned his head to the side to look at Ezekiel, "I know, son. I will do whatever I can to help save you. The clinic is less than a day from here and surely they will be able to help you, God willing." Despite the bandages covering it, Ezekiel could tell that the face was one of desperation.

Weak and exhausted, Ezekiel’s speech began to slur, “Those stories… the ones from your book and your teachings… God led me to you, right? That makes you my blessing. Remember when I said that uh...." He thought out, trying to string together his words so that they didn't come out botched, "You bein' my blessing and helping me, you'll have your answer? Maybe you'll get something out of this, as God intended, right?"

"I already got all I need out of this, Ezekiel. The only thing that matters from here on out is that you get to live to see another day." Joshua acknowledged that Ezekiel had become more willing to listen to Joshua’s teachings. Though he tended to mix up information and wasn’t entirely able to retain some lessons, he knew that the fear the boy felt was valid. The lessons were a way the pair could feel a little more comfortable should the boy not survive the trip. 

Ezekiel smiled weakly and sighed, resting his head on Joshua’s shoulder. “I’m not ready to die.”

"You won't die, don't forget about that. As long as you have hope and the Lord on your side you will survive.”

The boy’s optimism was dwindling, and he couldn't think of much else to say. He could only think of the things he used to do when he lived in Goodsprings. He merely mumbled out in his feverish state, "You're the greatest godfather an orphan could have."

Joshua gave the boy a pat on the head and leaned the side of his head against Ezekiel’s. Some strands of Ezekiel’s hair had begun to dull and cling to Joshua’s hand.

The balding and blistering scalp was gently groomed by Joshua, who did his best to comfort and soothe the child until they arrived at the other end of the river.

When the raft reached the other side of the river, the older man exited the raft and continued to walk up the banks and into the Mojave.

Ezekiel hesitantly picked up his head and stretched his arms. He gazed at the distant neon lights of New Vegas brandishing themselves against the night sky. He knew he was so close to sanctuary but it felt so far, as death lingered around him.

Coughing and sputtering could be heard from the boy, nothing unusual. Ezekiel's stomach pooled blood and he refused food and water now too sick to eat or drink. As he spit up blood, his body blistered from the terrible combination of radiation and whatever other diseases he might’ve picked up. Every now and then he'd pick up his head only enough to spit off to the side of Joshua. Even still, he’d occasionally make a mess of himself and Joshua’s vest.

Joshua knew there was very little he could do. Whenever Ezekiel fell ill, he’d do what he could to comfort him. Very soon, this would all be over... one way or another.

After wiping his mouth on his arm, Ezekiel’s voice grew raspy "I know it's obvious but man... I feel like I look like shit. And feel like it."

"Don't give up yet. The clinic is not too far. Just try to rest for now."

"Josh, the day I give up is when you give up on me. You're all I have left." His little voice croaked from behind.

"And I won't give up on you." Joshua looked straight ahead and sighed. "We're coming by Camp Golf soon."

It was often difficult for Ezekiel to breath. They come out raspy and strained, "I feel so tired, but I can't fall asleep. What if I don't wake up?"

"You will wake up. Just sleep. The doctor will know what to do, son."

There was a bit of silence before he whispered, "Have you ever seen someone die right in front of you? How do you think they felt?"

"Of course I have. I could see what they felt in their eyes. Regret. Every time it was just that, regret. And some... some pleading to know the answer to the one question they always ask... why?" Joshua looked down and sighed

"Should I feel regret? Should I feel the need to know why? I don't feel those, but I feel grateful and scared. Also a lot of pain, but otherwise alright."

"Everyone I saw die was in battle, son... you won't die that way. I will make sure of it."

"I just don't know what to expect to feel if the implant doesn't work. When do I know when I should stay close to you even when the doctors tell me not to move?"

"It will work. I promise. And I will always stay close to you."

Ezekiel smiled until his head felt fuzzy. When part of his body drooped in Joshua’s arms and went limp, he raised his voice in alarm, "Joshua? My arm and leg… I feel numb.”

"You’re having some sort of seizure, like the doctor said. It will be okay. I promise."

The static within his limbs subsided within minutes, but it left a twisting pain in Ezekiel’s limbs. He groaned in pain.

"We will be there, soon. For now, I will be on the lookout for chems to help ease your suffering... I am sorry, son." Joshua hurried up.

The pain in Ezekiel’s body spread to his chest and head and he sobbed softly. His cries were weak and his lips quivered.

Joshua pushed on as much as it hurt him to allow this boy to suffer. Still, he tried talking. "You know, in my tribe, in my home, we used to say that of all people, those who face their challenges and work through them end up being the happiest and become better people. I believe in it and I know you will turn out well when you grow up."

"I'm gonna kick the Legion's ass for this.” 

"See? That's the kind of motivation I want to hear! You're not letting radiation kick your ass, you have shit to do!" 

Ezekiel’s hazy eyes widened with shock and he smiled. 

Not too far ahead a campfire flickered with figures walking around nearby. Joshua knelt down onto the ground and removed the harness, setting Ezekiel onto the cool pavement. As Joshua promised that he’ll be right back, he wrapped a blanket around the boy to keep him warm.

Ezekiel watched his guardian walk up to the figures with ease. He could hear Joshua speak, too quietly to understand what was being said though.

The talking turned into arguing. Arguing turned into shouting. Shouting turned into a man drawing his firearm. The man, the only one of the four properly visible, was wearing makeshift armor made from gecko pelts. Raiders. It had to be.

The boy's heart rate quickened and he fumbled with his own pistol as he cried out for his uncle. 

Joshua raised his hand to tell the boy to quiet down as the man slowly walked closer to him. "He the one who has the caps? In that case.. I don't need you anymore." The gun was raised and pressed to Joshua's head. In one swift motion Joshua moved aside, aimed the gun at one of the men's comrades and forced it to fire, knocking the man over and the gun from the other's hand, allowing Joshua to pull out his own and start blasting. In mere moments he turned the one that had just threatened him into paste. A moment later, the two behind that one were shot as well. Four bodies were on the floor with two shots each. When the deed was finished, Joshua made his way back to Ezekiel picked him up, carrying him to the campfire. 

"You were right, the NCR doesn't take care of their land. Are you hurt, though? I saw them put a gun to your head." Ezekiel checked over Joshua's bandages to be sure.

"I'm okay. I've killed men much more competent than these rookies. Let's see if they have any med-x to help you. They are often on chems."

While Joshua searched the bodies and duffel bags for medicine, Ezekiel clung onto his guardian. "I have to worry about you."

"No, you really don't. I just-" Joshua froze in place, pulled out his pistol and shot behind him. One of the bodies' heads splattered open. "One was still alive."

Ezekiel stared in awe. "You really don't leave any survivors. I thought I had seen something. I could've shot it" he pouted. He drew out his own gun, determined to fire again at an enemy before Joshua does.

"Put the gun away. You can't shoot in this condition."

"But I have to protect you too. You've done so much for me"

"I can take care of myself, son."

"No one should worry about their own survival when you have someone else and yourself to care for. I have to care for you too." He looked at him with determination in his eyes as he holstered his gun and rested his chin on the vest.

Joshua gave his head a gentle rub for a few minutes, then he continued looking for items to use. Shuffling through a bag resulting in some much needed success as a couple med-x syringes fell out onto the ground. “Alright… The pain will be gone for a while."

Ezekiel perked his head up. With the adrenaline from the encounter wearing off, the burning pain in his body began to flare. He braced himself for the needle.

Joshua set the boy down on the ground between his legs and prepped Ezekiel’s arm. With one quick plunge, the needle was pushed into his frail arm, releasing the strong pain killer.

He sighed in relief as the pain melted away and he glanced over at Joshua and gestured to the city. "Bet you never thought you had to feel like the city of sin would be our holy grail, huh?"

"Oh shut it, you." Ezekiel could hear Joshua laugh a little.

Ezekiel smiled and gave a lighthearted laugh as he tried to stand on his own. Using his guardian as support, his knees were wobbly and his stance was poor. "Oh, you liked that joke?”

Joshua smiled and picked Ezekiel up, holding him close to his chest. The change would give the older man’s back a break and it gave the sick boy a greater sense of comfort, provided they didn’t run into any more danger. 

Resting his head against Joshua’s neck, Ezekiel inquired softly, "Will they ask if you're a ghoul, too?"

"Of course they will. And I'll tell them what they want to hear. The NCR would kill me if they knew who I am, and who I was. Caesar's Legion would do the same."

"Maybe they wouldn't kill you if they knew you were playing caregiver to the Courier's kid."

"They don't care about the Courier. He was merely a tool for them to get where they need to get. This world... it is not as nice as you may think, boy."

Ezekiel looked at him with confusion. Such a naive child thought the world of his father and thought that the Mojave loved his father for all of his deeds. "But... What did he tell you about himself? About the things he did?”

"Oh, he did those things. But you need to understand one thing: here in the wasteland and out there in Shady Sands, none of it matters. They are just out to get what they want and they will walk over corpses for it. They are the other side of the coin of civilization, the corruption of man personified. It matters not what you do, they will take what they need and leave you to the crows."

"Maybe some people would care though..." Ezekiel looked sorrowful at the thought of his father's work being taken advantage of and taken for granted.

"There are good people, yes, but you still cannot trust them. Behind a facade of gold the devil may hide. It takes a long time to see the true nature of a man, the soul reveals itself only when you are dying or when you are free to kill others."

Ezekiel contemplated the cryptic words and tried his best to make sense of them in his own mind. He nodded as though he fully understood but Joshua knew that he was too young to truly understand. 

Joshua held the boy close to him, his determination to repay the courier who helped him long ago drove him to walk through the night. Ezekiel drifted off to sleep in his arms and Joshua silently prayed that they wouldn’t run into any more trouble. For he didn’t know how much longer the young boy could hold onto life. Every day it seemed like Ezekiel was getting worse. Every day as Joshua watched Ezekiel grow weaker and lose more of what made him human hurt him. Never before had Joshua experienced being so close to a child in a way that made him feel like he had been missing out on something his whole life. He tried to shoo the feeling away, knowing this is no time to become attached. If Ezekiel dies, he thought to himself, he believed that he would see the world a bit differently. Tonight, Joshua pushed through the soreness in his body to continue without rest if it meant that Ezekiel had a higher chance of living. Tonight, he promised he’d continue to repay his debt.

[its-flicked-switch]

Transitive Property of Equality

All of the moments leading up to the COTP, candlelight confessions, and the revelation of miracle baby #2. This work remains canon with the events of S11, filling in the gaps of Mulder and Scully’s relationship and their leap of faith forward for the future. 

SMUT to be found in all the places you would expect.

Rating: Explicit

This story is my baby.

I initially drafted this work to be 10 chapters - one for each of the S11 episodes, but that quickly expanded into 20 chapters. With that being said, posting the full length of this work on Tumblr seems ... excessive, so I’ve made the decision to just post the first chapter and link the rest. In the future, I will post my longer works here just as I publish them on AO3 and ff.net, but with my Tumblr account being new, posting 60k+ all at once would be madness. Should you read this first chapter and be interested in reading the rest, it’s linked here. 

 CH 1: THE PLACE WE CALLED HOME

Post 11x01 - My Struggle III

Mulder takes Scully home.

SCULLY

It's true what they say about doctors being the worst patients, but to be fair, my medical history is extensive and complex. Providing a full and accurate medical history would take hours and most likely result in a psych consult, so I've learned to only ever disclose what is absolutely necessary. Being a neurologist myself, I can appreciate my doctor's concern, but she doesn't have all the of the facts and wouldn't know what to do with them even if I gave them to her. So for the second time today, I sign myself out of the hospital against medical advice.

After reviewing my MRIs, there is little doubt in my mind that the impulses driving my abnormal brain activity were somehow generated by my implant. The dull ache and burning sensation that coursed through the base of my skull and down into my neck just before losing consciousness doesn't fit the etiology of any known medically based seizure.

Eighteen hours later my neck still aches, but for an entirely different reason. One that may or may not be related to the visions I have received from Willam.

The man who entered my hospital room earlier this evening is someone that Mulder recognized as working for the syndicate, but our sources within the FBI have yet to formally identify him. All of this should frighten me more than it does, but at the moment, all I care about is getting out of here and going home to sleep in my own bed.

By the time Mulder and I leave the hospital, it's close to midnight. He hasn't let me out of his sight since he returned from Spartanburg. Under normal circumstances, I would find his zealously overprotective behavior to be suffocating and would insist that he give me space, but tonight I don't have the energy to fight him nor do I think that it would matter even if I did.

The force of my assassin's hands has left me stiff, sore, and hoarse, limiting my responses to brief and very brief. So when he asks me if I'm hungry, I merely nod, settling into the passenger seat and resting my eyes as he merges into traffic.

—

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have because when I come to we are pulling up to the house.

"Mulder," I croak, "I thought you were going to take me home?"

As soon as I say it, I regret it. Although I haven't lived here in close to four years, the house is still technically mine. I tried to sign it over to him after we separated, but he refused to sign the papers.

"This will always be your home too, Scully," he says softly, not meeting my eyes.

I didn't mean for it come across as a dig, but it clearly has.

Great. As if today wasn't shitty enough.

"I'm sorry Mulder, I didn't mean … I'm just exhausted, and I don't have any clothes here."

"I stopped by the impound lot and cleaned out your car, so I have your keys and overnight bag. They're in the trunk."

I clearly slept through that pit stop.

"Oh … okay … thank you," is all I can manage to say.

"It wasn't a big deal. Common. Let's get inside. I think there might even be something that's eatable in the fridge," he says placing his hand on my thigh and giving it a light squeeze before exiting the car.

We climb the porch stairs together in silence. Once inside, he places my overnight bag at the bottom of the stairs and then makes his way into the kitchen.

"I'm going to start some tea. That should help soothe your throat."

"Mulder, you really don't have to—"

But he cuts me off before I can finish, raising his voice.

"Stop thanking me and telling me that I don't have to take care of you. If I hadn't come in when I did, that man would have killed you … you do realize that right?"

The look on his face stops me cold.

"Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?"

Grabbing the top of the one the kitchen chairs, he shifts his weight and looks down at the table in an attempt to calm himself. At first, I say nothing. Mulder is one of the most controlled people I have ever known. Even with everything we've been through in the last 25 years, I can still count on one hand how many times he has raised his voice at me in anger.

But anger isn't what I see now. What I see now is pure, unadulterated fear.

"I'm sorry Scully, I didn't mean to … I just—"

"It's okay," I say, interrupting him. "I buried you once — so yes, I have an idea." It comes out low and raspy, strained by events of the last 24 hours, but it silences him nonetheless.

As my words register, his eyes return to mine, and the fire in them dissipates.

Loss is something that we are both intimately familiar with.

Sighing, he releases his hold on the kitchen chair.

"I know you can take care of yourself, Scully. You've always been able to do that, but we still don't know for sure who sent him or why. Until we know, more I don't want you staying alone. If something happened you … something that I could have prevented … I would never forgive myself."

I don't know how to respond, so I don't.

"Are you sure you're not hungry?" he asks softly. "I have some yogurt in the fridge if you just want something light."

"No, but I will take some tea."

He nods and turns to turn on the stove, filling up the kettle and placing it over the burner.

"Why don't you head upstairs and take a shower. I'll come up in a minute with your tea and change the sheets."

"I'm sure they are fine."

"I haven't washed them in a while. I usually just sleep on the couch."

His tone is soft but final, and his message is clear. He's going to take care of me, and I'm going to let him because he's not taking 'no' for an answer.

—

Mulder wasn't kidding. The bed is made and looks as if it hasn't been used in months, but other than that, the room we once shared has changed very little in my absence.

My eyes are immediately drawn to a picture he has framed and prominently displayed on what was my bedside table. It's a picture of the two of us that I have never seen before. As I take a closer look, I recognize the scenery and the clothes we are wearing. The trip to the Keys had been a surprise anniversary gift. He must have had the film developed after I moved out and had it framed.

The realization causes a lump to form in my throat that is painful to swallow in more ways than one.

"There are some clean towels under the sink," he says, startling me as he enters the room behind me.

Although it's clear that he noted my interest in the picture, he doesn't say or do anything to draw attention to it, and for that I am grateful. I can hear him stripping the bed as I retreat into the bathroom.

It's not until I turn on the water and begin to disrobe that I realize that I have a problem.

Somewhere between the seizure, car accident, and struggle with the mysterious assassin, I have lost the ability to put my arms behind my back. I silently curse at my bra for a few moments before relenting and shutting off the water so that I don't have strain my voice to speak over it.

"Mulder?"

There's a periodic moment of silence before he responds.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come in here for a minute?"

"Um … yeah, sure, Scully, just ... give me a minute."

Within a few seconds, he's at the door.

"What's wrong Scully? Are you OKAY?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I just … I'm having trouble with the clasp, can you undo it for me?"

He steps into the bathroom and freezes.

"Jesus, Scully."

I'm half naked, but that's not why he's cursing.

"Is this from the accident or from …?"

His fingers gently trace over the bruising as he spins me to take a closer look.

"I'm not sure, but I can't quite get the … can you …?"

"Yeah."

He unclips my bra rubbing his hands lightly over my low back and shoulder blades until he reaches the tops of my shoulders. My back is to him, but his eyes meet mine in the mirror.

"I knew it was bad, but I had no idea it was this bad. Do you have any pain meds?"

"No … I'm okay … just going to be sore for a couple of days."

He doesn't believe me, but he doesn't press the issue either. Instead, he kisses the top of my head and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

I half expect him to be lingering around when I get out the shower, but he isn't.

The bed is covered with fresh sheets, and the clothes from my overnight bag are laid out at the edge of the bed. If I weren't so tired, I would probably be more embarrassed by the fact that he found one of his old tee shirts in my overnight bag. Although we've been separated for nearly four years now, I still find myself sleeping in his clothes. I silently curse myself for packing something so intimately personal in an overnight bag prepared to use on company time.

"Scully?"

"Just a minute," I say as I gingerly finish dressing.

When I open the door, he's waiting on the other side with a steaming cup of hot tea.

"Thank you."

He smiles.

"Got everything you need?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. Well … I'll see you in the morning. If you need anything, I'll be down here."

For a moment, we just stand in silence, neither of us knowing quite what to say.

As I gaze into his eyes, I realize that what I want more than anything is for him to come to bed and wrap his arms around me, but I have no right to ask that of him. I threw that right away the moment I left him, so instead of asking him to stay, I allow him to kiss my forehead and then watch him walk away.

—

I wake up to hands on my body.

I want to scream, but I can't because there is no air in my lungs.

Panicked, I kick, claw, and fight for my life, but my efforts are fruitless. Everything is moving in slow motion, and I am powerless to stop it. That's when it hits me … I'm dying … this must be what dying feels like. Unable to fight any longer, I surrender to fate and still my body. Just as my field of vision begins to darken into a black blur, I hear a familiar voice. A voice that clears the fog and fills my lungs with air.

He releases me quickly, narrowly avoiding getting headbutted as I bolt up out of bed.

"SCULLY … SCULLY … It's me … It's just a dream. It's me. Mulder."

I'm gasping for breath and unable to speak, but relief floods me as my vision clears.

"It's just a dream, Scully," he repeats softly. "I'm here. You're safe."

Once he sees that I have oriented back to reality, he wraps his arms around me, pulling my head into his chest.

I try to swallow the sob before it leaves my throat, but I can't. The tears quickly follow.

"Shhhhhh … It's OKAY. I'm here. You're safe."

This only makes me cry harder.

He lays us down gently, cradling my head against his chest — taking care to not to apply too much pressure to my bruised and battered body.

Neither of us speaks for quite some time.

When the tears subside, and my breathing normalizes, he's the one to break the silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I sniffle, trying to clear my nose and throat so that I can speak. I've made a mess of the shirt he's wearing. It's so wet in places that it's sticking to his skin, but I don't care, and I doubt he does either.

"I couldn't breathe."

It's likely not the detailed explanation he was looking for, but it's the only explanation that is required.

He takes a deep breath and pulls my body more tightly against his.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Scully."

"You can't promise that, Mulder. No more than I could promise it to you."

"I've gone to the ends of the earth for you … killed for you … and I would give my life for yours in a heartbeat. You know that."

I do know, but this conversation is quickly heading in a direction that I'm not ready to go. Not tonight. So I don't respond with words. Instead, I snuggle into his chest, wrapping my arms around him and intertwining my legs with his. I don't want to live like I'm living on borrowed time. I want to go to sleep in his arms comforted by the fact that I still have tomorrow to say all the things I need to say. So instead of making confessions of heart, I close my eyes and surrender to sleep as I listen to the beat of his heart.

[yvynyl]

// Letters to YVYNYL //

Agouti - Chameleon

 / Somehow, music seems to transcend “death” a lot. Or maybe, death brings words or music or... Carmen Caruso has been writing music as therapy for a while now and you’ll hear it in her songs. She sent me this video and a letter to tell me - and all of you - a bit more about the impact some life/death experiences have treated in her creative process. Let us know what you think below. 

Dear Mark,

I want to thank you for taking the time to read my letter. I spent some time reading through some of the other letters you posted here, and I’ve really enjoyed what other artists have shared. My album Nodes is rooted in dealing with the aftermath of death and trauma.

Watching someone you love slowly wither away is heartbreaking. You spend hours researching, trying to help them, but you feel so out of control as they become a shell of their former self. Over the past eight years, I have lost four grandparents, one to Alzheimer’s, one due to complications from repeated seizures, and two to declining health. My husband lost his mother to Parkinson’s, and we lost our pet Arthur to a tooth abscess, both of which were long-battled illnesses. 

I also lost a close friend who I used to play music with. He was about to start a new chapter of his life to study music abroad in Europe when he died on a camping trip from heart failure. No one saw it coming. I never got to say goodbye to him and that still haunts me to this day. I think that death was the hardest one of all: losing someone who was just starting out his life, and had so much life to live.

Throughout all of this, I was dealing with my own PTSD, brain fog and severe chronic fatigue. There were moments in trying to finish this album where I couldn’t write. Some days I just had to consign myself to the couch because I had no energy to do anything at all. I was tossed around from doctor to doctor, and tried everything from cleanses, sleep meds, naturopathy, acupuncture, nasal surgery, antidepressants, EMDR, heavy metal testing, and immunotherapy. My struggle to regain my health has been a long physical and mental journey that I’m still on to this day.

People have told me that my album sounds happy to them, even though the content of my lyrics doesn’t always match the mood. I think that’s almost a metaphor for how I try to hide my emotions, to pretend like everything’s OK. I feel like it is these moments of darkness that society never seems to want totalk about. I always find it unhelpful when I see people suffering from loss on Facebook, and commenters just say, “Thoughts and prayers for you and your family, give me a call if you need to talk!” People don’t understand how difficult it is for someone who is struggling to push through their own isolation to call someone else. I try to call my friends when they are not doing OK even when they don’t ask for it, because I know now that sometimes we need someone to be that person, to be a lifeline. Sometimes we all need someone to check in on us. And in a way, my album is trying to do that as well. Through my lyrics, I hope to connect with other people who have been through similar experiences and let them know that they are not alone.

This album is about turning something negative into something positive. As a node is the beginning and end of sine wave, I thought it was a fitting description as I saw several doors close in my life, and began to step through this new one with Agouti. Thank you again for taking the time to read this.

All the best,

Carmen

Support YVYNYL, an independent music project here!

Got a story to tell? Submit it to Letters to YVYNYL.

Instagram + Twitter + Facebook + Bandcamp

[scribeofmorpheus]

Counterpart [5/5]

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Framework!Steve

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Words: 6k | AO3

A/N: Incase people are unfamiliar, The Red Guardian is the soviet equivalent of Captain America. I was going to use Alexei Shostakov in this chapter but I ended up using him in AFWHI so instead, I went with Tania Belinsky. In the end, I liked how having Steve fight Tania emphasised the darker nature of Framework!Steve. And yes, I admit, some parts were rushed (serves me right for planning a short series with too much potential to draw from!) but fear not, there’s an epilogue.

Note: this chapter acts as the spin-off opening chapter for The Liberators. Send me an ask if you want to be tagged in that going forward.

Warnings: This chapter contains language, violence, oral sex (public-ish...), kinda voyeurism if a figment of someone's imagination counts, torture, etc. It’s a dark series, expect a darker take.

Song: Stay Alive by Hidden Citizens.

CHAPTER FIVE: THE CHOICE

~

The light fixture above sparked, bulbs exploding from the residual energy rippling off Wanda’s charged aura. Several unconscious bodies lay haphazardly on the floor in no discernible pattern. The door barricaded by debris, upon debris, until there was barely a peephole to look through to the other side.

Exhausted, Wanda fell onto the glass panels of the submersion tanks, a dark rivulet of blood gradually meandering from her nose, the glow of her eyes fizzling out like a gyroscopic disco light.

"Boss, are you okay?" Friday asked after a beat of deafening silence.

Wanda heaved, sweat matting her hair to her cheeks, "I just… I need to catch my breath is all." She glanced over to the tank which housed Y/N, her fingers dusting over the glass as a weak smile crept over her tired face.

"I'll keep them safe," she swore to herself, to the universe.

The sound of a plasma cannon being charged behind the wall of debris worried Wanda, but as much as she wanted to stand, and stay focused, she could barely keep her eyes open. She was past her threshold now, slipping away into unconsciousness. Whether she liked it or not, she was out of commission.

"Friday," her voice was soft, breathy. "How… long?"

"They've been in there a little over eight hours, boss," the program’s Irish lilt was like an unintended lullaby to Wanda's ears.

"We… still… have… time…" her mind was dragged into the clutches of sleep, her hand slipping away from the glass.

    Your body shook violently, it felt like you were in the middle of a seizure, unable to control your limbs or the sheer quantity of neurotransmitters that flooded your brain, drenching it into a pool of anxiety.

"Hey, shh, shh," Steve tried to soothe your panic attack away, hands bracing your head and lower spine as you grabbed onto his jacket.

A few junior agents had caught wind of the commotion and stalled on their way to their desks, prompting Steve to sneer at them, "What the hell are you looking at? Move along!"

Feet scurried after that and the dial had been turned back up, now you could hear the usual bustle of the office space flow around you uninterrupted.

"Come on babe, let's calm you down," Steve pulled you off the ground and walked you towards the med bay. He placed you on one of the empty beds, sealing the room shut with a protocol override thanks to his higher clearance.

"Hey, babe, look at me," his hands pulled your face away from your chin. "Good, that's a good girl," he smiled, worry clearly showing in his assertive tone. "Now breathe, just like me."

Steve took a deep breath with his nose and let out a long exhale through this mouth, pads of his thumbs rubbing at your cheek as he encouraged you to do as he did.

Slowly, you mimicked his actions, letting each breath erase the shuddering of your jaw and the rapid hammering beneath your ribs. Swallowing hard after each interval.

"There you go," Steve's grip never softened, he was your rock through the tumultuous storm, rubbing circles on your uncomfortably tight spine.

"I- I think I'm okay now," you whispered softly, hands unclenching from his jacket leaving deep crinkles around the expensive leather.

He pulled up a chair, "What happened to you in there?"

"Honestly," you chuckled with uncertainty. "I don't know. One minute I'm ready to crack skulls and then the next I'm..." you trailed off, a sinking feeling warning you that he might not believe what you had to say.

"What?" his eyes were soft and understanding, this was the gentler side of him that few got the pleasure of seeing.

"I started seeing things, like memories, only…" your hands fidgeted, the urge to bite your nails was strong. “They weren't my memories." A shudder crept through you. You turned to look at the Hydra sigil tiled onto the floor. "Sometimes I feel like nothing is real." You admitted.

Steve stood, his hands massaging your neck in languid strokes, his beard tickling your skin as he brought his lips to caress the sensitive flesh. Your head shot back, eyelashes batting rapidly before finally closing as you bit your lip.

"Does this feel real?"

You gasped as his lips moved lower, his hand moving to the underside of your breast placing a strong grip over the curve of your ribs that guarded your heart.

"Yes," you whimpered.

"And what about this?" his hand grazed a nipple through the light material of your dress shirt, tongue lapping at your skin letting the air cool it so it prickled with sensual energy.

"Hmm," you bit your lip harder.

Steve brought his lips to crush over yours, coaxing a moan out as he massaged the top of your spine with his other hand.

"It's been a stressful few days," his voice was laced with lust, hand moving to pop open the button on your jeans. "Let me take some of that stress away."

He pushed your body down, spreading your legs as he dragged the chair closer so his face was aligned with your thighs, his thumbs hooking over your belt loops, tugging them down ferociously.

You gasped and his laugh carried across the exposed flesh of your inner thigh, hands slipping underneath you to cup your ass and raise your legs so he could trail kisses from your knee to the apex of your thigh. His breath was hot against your lace panties.

"Steve," you gasped, trying to get lost in the moment, but for every sensual sensation running through you, causing your legs to shake with want, your brain kept playing back a song like a recorder stuck on a loop. The image of another man laying over you, being deep inside you, as his hair tickled your breasts with every thrust, fogged your senses. His steely blue eyes matching the man in the interrogation room. Making you feel ashamed of thinking of another man while your husband lavished ay your moistening core.

You squinted, trying to drive those foreign images away, fingers digging into Steve's hair, nudging him further into your core.

He complied, suckling at your clit through the lacy fabric, eliciting another gasp from your lips. The pressure from Steve's mouth pulled blood around your bud, making it become engorged with desire. You grew more sensitive with every lap of his tongue and every nibble of his teeth, crying from pleasure, unashamed that anyone passing by would clearly be able to see the two of you participating in lewd acts if they walked past the semi-translucent door.

Steve's tongue was like a salve for the ache milking you internally and as much as you just wanted to lay there and let your senses go haywire, the more you lost control under his touch, the more your mind wondered.

The ghost, that damned ghost with his perfect eyes and his long silky hair and brooding disposition, came to life in the dark recesses of your subconscious.

Steve finally stripped your panties free and you wiggled into his touch, pushing your hips downwards so his tongue could fill your entrance as he stroked, suckled and devoured you.

"Steve..." you moaned with pleasure and that drove him wild. His hands palmed your ass as his fervour increased. Soon he was fingering you at an unbearable pace while he returned his mouth to your clit. The knot in your stomach began to coil tighter and tighter and tighter.

"Say my name," the ghost whispered.

You snapped your head to the side and defiantly mewled Steve's name again.

"Say. My. Name." it was too light to be a threat, but the edge present in those words made you quake and soon you were unravelling, juices seeping into Steve's hungry mouth.

"Steve… St-Steve, ahh!" You came harder, the climax far from over.

A cold shiver spread from your ear lobe all the way to your aorta and deeper within. The ghost closer than before, close enough to smell his scent and feel his warmth, spoke out again, "Say my name."

You whimpered, the final wave of your climax washing over you as you bit into the pillow and whimpered, cracked voice feather-light, "Bucky..."

When you opened your eyes and you saw Steve stand from between your legs licking his fingers like some starved wolf. A devilish grin hiding under his beard.

What the hell did I just say? You questioned yourself as you looked into the reflective surface of a heartbeat monitor. Your own eyes taunting you, a clear window into your fractured mind.

The ghost stood behind you, a smile of triumph on his face.

"You remember me," he said.

You turned in the direction of the ghost’s reflection, but all you saw were curtains and medical equipment. You glanced back at the monitor wearily, a migraine beginning to form. You flinched from the pain, your thoughts telling you to take another pill.

"The pain is a good thing," the ghost said. "It means you're fighting this world," he crossed over to face you now, had hovering close to your radiating skin. "Fighting this lie…" his hand hovered lower, close to your chin. “Come back to me."

"Y/N?" Steve's voice tore through the apparition and your focus was pulled back to his face. "You still with me?"

You stared dumbfounded for a moment, before pulling up your pants and switching positions with Steve, a menacing smirk asserting itself over your features.

If it took being numbed to the rest of the world by Steve’s incendiary touch in order to get the ghost to leave, then you weren't averse to spending a few more minutes in this room with him.

"Perfect," you replied as you got on your knees and freed his pulsing member. "Now, it's time for me to help you relax."

You took him in your mouth and he pulled at your hair possessively, pushing you down further until you felt his tip knocking at your uvula.

You let his scent fill you. The musk of his pure desire was overwhelming, a sensory overload that turned your mind into a blank sheet, white with static and nothingness. You savoured the quiet, the lack of discord, as you pleasured him with the same enthusiasm he had used on you. Steve’s ringed finger entwined with yours as he whispered through pleasured grunts, “God, I love you.”

You wanted to say ‘I love you’ too, but for some reason, it never resonated as completely true.

 After you and Steve got cleaned up, the infirmary doors were overridden and a short but plucky looking woman walked in, her professional glower making her look older than she was.

"You mind telling me why two of my operatives locked themselves inside the med bay so they could play house instead of interrogating our prisoner?" she tapped her heels on the ground, pointing to the cameras. “You know we could see everything down in control, right?”

You cursed under your breath and Steve held back a playful chuckle.

"Executive Director Lewis," he informally saluted. “I was simply easing my wi- Uhem, I mean Agent Rogers here out of her panic attack.”

Darcy rolled her eyes at the two of you.

"Ma'am," you hid your blush by keeping your eyes on the Hydra sigil on the floor.

"Spare me the ass-kissing, get your asses into that interrogation room and make that little piggy squeal. I want to know everything he knows. It's been nearly four years since we last spotted the Canary, and I don't want to screw anything up now that he's in our custody after you failed to bring him in last time, Rogers!"

"I’ll get right on that ma'am," Steve strode out of the room.

"Darcy, hun, I've been looking for you everywhere," Clint jogged over, motioning to place a kiss on her cheek. She pulled away, a firm hand pressed to his sternum.

"That's Executive Director during work hours, Clint."

"Oh, right. Not in the workplace," he clicked his tongue. "Your father- err, the Director, wanted to see you." Clint thumbed at the doorway.

Darcy side-eyed you for a moment, a warning shot your way, “Be more discrete next time, agent.” She sauntered out of sight.

"Whew!" Clint pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. "Crisis averted. You owe me for the rescue, kiddo. The 'ol ball and chain can be a bit of a ball basher." He smirked.

"Thanks, Clint," you exhaled as you walked past him. "How did you know we were about to get a major tongue lashing from Control?"

“You know she hates that nick-name.” Clint laughed, "Her vein does this thing next to her left eye when she's about to chew someone out. I figured you would be the only one reckless enough to incur her wrath after that fiasco a few days ago."

You shook your head, "You two will never stop being an enigma to me."

"What can I say, she had me at 'What the hell do you think you're doing Agent Barton?'." His long gait caused him to turn around and talk to you while walking backwards. "Now, let’s go play good cop, bad cop and observer cop!"

 You watched from the other side of the one-way mirror as Steve bloodied his knuckles bombarding the imprisoned man’s face with brutal blow after brutal blow. One of his eyes was already discolouring, the skin turning puffy.

"Well, old friend," Steve's fist connected with his mentalis muscle, splitting the skin on his cheek so blood flowed down to his neck and below in a dark red stream. "I can't tell you how long I've been waiting to see you again." Steve flashed his canines in a dishevelling smile.

Bucky's muscles reflexively shook, his eyes staring into Steve's face as though he were looking up at a stranger.

You rubbed at your arms, the hairs sticking up. You hated seeing this side of Steve, it felt… wrong. You couldn't believe this was the same man who held you each night. The same man you married. The same man you were raising a daughter with.

You glanced down at your ring, the metal still cold and unfamiliar to you.

Clint was quiet, not his usual wise-cracking self, as he looked on, watching Steve work.

"That doesn't belong there," the ghost appeared beside you. You chose to ignore it. "That's why it still feels cold no matter how long you wear it. Odd isn't it. That's not how metal and heat work."

You wrung your ear, hoping the scuffling sounds would drown out the imposing presence that bore the same face as the man in the interrogation room –they like some form of twisted doppelgangers, only one was tangible the other was incorporeal.

"Whoever you think I am," Bucky stated, a wetness to his voice. "I'm not him. Just like how you're not my best friend."

Steve cocked his head to the side, his knuckle lodging itself into Bucky's hard stomach, "What, no happy tears for your old pal?"

Blood splattered out of his mouth, "My best friend would never allow himself to be anyone’s bruiser, especially not Hydra."

"Tell me, Canary… how's the view up there on your high horse?" Steve pulled Bucky's head back, roughly. "Does it make this sting any less?" He brought his knee to Bucky's nose, an uncomfortable crunch filling the space.

"Jesus," Clint whispered. "I knew these two had unfinished business, but I've never seen anyone get under the Captain's skin like this before." 

You shivered, finding it hard to swallow. "We're getting nowhere with these tactics." You raced out of the room, bursting into the adjacent room with great speed.

Steve's head craned to yours, unhappy with your disturbance. "Leave." He barked.

"Give me five minutes with him."

"I'm in the middle of something," he was seething.

"And I was his original interrogator," you bit back. "Give. Me. Five."

Grinding his teeth, Steve let go of Bucky's head roughly before complying with your request -albeit begrudgingly.

 You placed a wet cloth on Bucky's face, he instinctively leaned into your touch, and it startled you how right that felt. You jumped back slightly.

"Don't be afraid of me," he told you, his eyes still warm despite the bruised flesh forcing his eyelids closer together.

"I'm not," you answered truthfully.

"Then don't be afraid of yourself."

How did he know? You pondered. Does he really know me? Do I know him?

"James…" you placed the cloth back on his jaw. “That’s your name isn't it?"

"Bucky. My friends call me Bucky."

Your mind flashed back to the med bay where you whispered that very name into a pillow as you climaxed around Steve's face. You pressed your legs together, forcing yourself to stay in the present.

"Earlier, you said your plan worked. That you wanted to be here, to be in the same room as me…Why is that?"

He leaned his head forward and you applied pressure to the gash on his chin, "Isn't it obvious? I came back for you. I'd cross universes for you. And I did."

"I don't know you," you lied.

"Yes you do, I can see it in your eyes. You remember me. I know a part of you does, otherwise, why did you run away when you saw me."

Steve knocked on the door, growing impatient.

You held up five fingers before turning your attention back to the bloody and beaten man in front of you.

"Come back to me," he pleaded, leaning into your touch some more. "You're the last good thing in my life and I should have told you that every morning we woke up and every night we went to bed. You mean everything to me. You are my world. I love you."

Warning! Memories desynchronizing...

Searing, hot pain shot through your veins and you were repelled backwards by the forceful pounding at your temples. You cried out, vision turning to shit. Your instincts telling you to fight the pain, to make the screaming stop, but then you remembered what the ghost had said -what the phantom Bucky had told you.

The pain is a good thing. It means you're fighting this world.

You couldn't say for certain why you chose to listen to him, why you chose to embrace the pain. Maybe it was because your ring always felt cold and foreign on your ring finger, maybe it was because there was nothing but discord rupturing within you unless Steve was touching you, or maybe it was because you had finally lost your fucking marbles. Either way, you picked yourself up off the floor, upholstered your gun and fired off two shots. One pierced the camera. The other broke the chains that bound Bucky to the chair.

"I knew you'd remember," he wrapped his arms around you in a hug, the metal of his arm not nearly as cold as the metal on your ring finger. A second later, Steve kicked in the door.

"Reunion time later, let’s get us out of here," you told Bucky as you aimed your gun at Steve, the memories of both worlds mixing to form a muddle of confusion in your brain.

"What the hell are you doing Y/N? Have you lost your mind?" Steve barked with disbelief.

You shrugged, planting a bullet in his thyroid, "No. I've found it."

Bucky used the jagged edge of the chain to dig something out of his arm, it was small and cylindrical with a red tip. He pressed it and a red LED started to flash from the tip. He extended his arm to you, a look of faith in his eyes that you'd forgotten was once a constant in your life. "Do you trust me?"

Your memories were still a mess and you felt torn, almost like two people were trying to live inside one body, but you also felt confident and when you clasped your hand in his, you felt safe for what seemed like the first time in a decade. "I don't know. But I know I'll be safe as long as you're by my side."

He smiled, running out of the room with you in tow, Steve biting back grunts of pain as he rushed after you.

***

"Congratulations, Agent Carter," Darcy handed her a new shiny badge that smelled of newly tanned leather and chromium. "You're officially promoted to active duty. Now you can finally step out from behind your ex-husband's shadow." She laughed darkly.

Sharon looked down at the badge, lacklustre expression making Darcy cock her head to the side. "Don't look at this as anything other than what it is. You deserve that badge and I'm proud to stand beside you as the newest member of the Syndicate."

"Agent 13?" Sharon read the designation below her name.

Darcy chuckled, "The Syndicate has a flare for the dramatic. Everyone uses call signs while out in the field." Darcy pulled out her own badge. "Since I'm the one pulling the strings in the dark, they took to calling me Control. Ridiculous, granted, but you'd be surprised how useful an alter ego is in our business of hunting subservients."

"When will I meet the rest of the team?"

"They're currently off base, but they should be arriving shortly for your inauguration," Darcy glanced at her watch.

Suddenly, the alarm blared overhead, yellow warning lights turning the walls into a nauseating colour.

"What the fuck?" Darcy groaned, head craned to the spinning lights. She pressed down on her earpiece, her tone authoritative and scary. "This is Control, what the fuck is going on in my building?"

"Ma'am, it seems agent Rogers has defected," a junior agent replied over the comms.

"Steve?" Darcy asked.

Sharon's eyes narrowed, her grip bending the badge at the sides slightly.

"Negative Ma'am. Agent Y/N."

"Son of a bitch," Darcy marched to her office.

"What's going on?" Sharon stammered.

"We have a subservient in our midst. Your ex-husband's wife just tried to break out the Canary. Get your ass to the tenth floor, I have a feeling this is a fight you might want to get in on."

"Where are you going?"

"To assemble the Syndicate and get Clint his sword."

***

"Come on partner, let's talk about this," Clint hurled pens at you with the accuracy of a ninja. Several ballpoint tips embedded themselves into the desk you'd flipped to the side for cover.

You shot off defensive shots, making sure to miss any vital organs, he dodged them easily, rolling to another point of cover. "I've seen how you hash things out, Clint. I'm not a fool."

“Oh, now don’t be like that.”

Bucky blocked several bullets hailing from a line of agents, the ping noise showering around him in hurried succession. Steve pushed several desks out of his way as he stalked towards the two of you.

"Y/N, honey, whatever's gotten into you, we can work it out. You aren't yourself," he hurled a desk at Bucky and his metal arm punched through it, cracking it in half. "You're sick, baby. A side effect of the medication. Think about us. Think about Sarah."

You froze and Clint managed to get a shot in at your arm, the pen piercing your flesh like a blunt needle.

"Arrghhh!" You ducked lower, pulling Bucky's shirt down. "Where the fuck is your back up?"

Bucky glanced at his watch, the countdown putting him on edge. "They should be here."

"Y/N, why are you helping him? You know who he is, who he used to work for. He's a traitor. If you turn yourself over now, I'll make sure Pierce and Lewis don't press charges," Steve assured you as he picked up a desk chair and hauled it at Bucky.

Bucky dodged to the side, his eyes landing on Steve's as they were face to face. Steve placed a strong hand on Bucky's shoulder and Bucky, in turn, spun out of his grip and twisted his arm around his back.

Steve groaned through gritted teeth as he head-butted Bucky in the nose. Disoriented and in pain, Bucky stumbled backwards and Steve's fist was about to drive a right hook into his off-balance body when a blur of blue and silver whooshed past, taking Bucky with it.

"Wha-" You searched the room for any sight of the blur or Bucky, but there was nothing except an over imposing sense of confusion hanging in the air.

Clint lobbed one more pen your way and in a flash, the blur returned, removing the projectile from its flight path. Pietro looked down at you, a dastardly smile on his face as he sent a wink your way, twirling the pen between two fingers. "Hey."

“Hey.”

And then he was gone.

Out of a hidden corner, a shower of pens were hurled at a mass of agents, including Clint, and they all hit their mark successfully. Cries of pain emanated out just when Bucky appeared behind Steve's back to heave him over his shoulder in a body slam. Something in Steve's shoulder popped and you could see the bulge of a bone sticking out of alignment as he rolled off of Bucky.

Glass shattered from the windows as a helicopter lifted to your floor, Sam at the helm with Natasha gripping a semi-automatic. Her bullets piercing through the air and ripping through several enemy agents.

While Steve and Bucky came to blows, your gaze fell on Sharon, who was pointing a gun at you, a torn expression drawing her eyebrows down. It was a silent stalemate and you dared not flinch.

Off the helicopter, a large woman with the biggest muscles you had ever seen crashed into Clint, sending him flying like he was made of papier-mâché and crashing against Steve. The Black Panther suit maundered over several desks to take on a multitude of junior agents with little effort on their part.

"T'Challa?" you whispered causing the person to crane their neck so swiftly it would have given anyone whiplash. It was then you saw the person in the black suit had a small bust and a feminine frame. This wasn’t T’Challa, it was someone else, a fragment of your mind that was attuned to the Framework remembered that T’Challa had been killed in an explosion years prior. “Shuri…” you uttered softly and she nodded in place of a verbal reply.

"Fuck, that is one strong lady," Clint struggled to stand and out of the elevator, Darcy sauntered over, no fear in her eyes as she called out Clint's name and tossed him his swords. "Thanks, honey!" he replied as he unsheathed his katana.

Spectre materialised out of the wall and shot a plasma beam at Shuri, sending her flying through cubicles. Her vibranuim armour caused a bubble of energy to erupt from the point of contact. Papers, files and electronic components were cast through the air by the static cushion.

Pietro sped over to her side, catching her from mid-air and stopping her momentum. With a snarl, he charged after Spectre but was hit by one of Clint’s throwing stars. Shuri retaliated, pouncing onto Clint, her extended claws sparking fiery lights as they came in contact with his sword.

Sharon was still standing there, unable to move.

A few blocks down, a beam of light shot up into the sky like a beacon.

Sam shouted from the helicopter, "That's our signal, we gotta go!"

Sharon lowered her gun, looing between you, Sam and Bucky, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of what everything meant. “One day at a time…”

Darcy barked order's into her comms, "Warmonger handle that fucking chopper!"

"Where is he?" Shuri demanded through each slice and swipe, her Wakandan accent still thick.

Clint parried with an expert’s stance, "Where is who?"

"Peter Parker!" She growled back.

Clint swiped his leg under her and she somersaulted away, "I have no clue, kid."

A sniper got a shot off from a distance, clipping Steve's side just as he was about to get his hands around Bucky's neck, the residual force made him stumble backwards allowing Bucky rush to your side.

"We have to go, Y/N!" He gripped your shoulder. "Now!"

You looked to Sharon and suddenly her face was taken over by something, a kind of steeled determination. Then she lifted her gun and turned against her own people, aiding you and Bucky so you could make a break for it. You exchanged curt nods before you got out from behind cover and raced towards the helicopter.

"Agent Carter, what are you doing?" Darcy spat in anger.

Behind Sharon, Ava Starr materialised through the walls, stalking towards her unsuspecting prey, the shimmer of her invisibility cloak giving away her position. Shuri pounced on her, releasing an electrical spike into the ground, frying her cloaking tech.

"Uh, guys, I don't know if you have any tricks up your sleeve, but we've got a bogey incoming," Sam shouted as a small humanoid flying object left jet trails through the sky.

"Warmonger..." you gasped out.

Spectre charged his plasma beam and you instantly released Bucky's hand so you could tackle him, sending the both of you tumbling until you were mere inches from falling out of the ten-story window.

Natasha fired off her weapon at Warmonger, failing to get a shot in. She braced for impact right when a man in a winged suit clutched onto Warmonger with his claw-like feet and used his momentum to swing him into the opposite building, accidentally banging into the tail end of the helicopter in the process.

Natasha was shaken from her post and sent tumbling into the building, her eyes locking instantly on Clint's. They stared at each other with menace, an unresolved vendetta clearly hanging over them like an open wound doused in salt and spirits. They were both frothing at the mouth as they charged after each other.

“Romanoff,” he said with venom. “I’ve been dying to cross paths with you again.”

Natasha struck him in the face with a roundhouse kick, “Its Romanova! And you’ll pay for what you did to me!”

Pietro rushed to your aid when he saw you struggling to gain the upper hand with Spectre, but a minute insect-like creature whacked into his cheek, sending him hurtling backwards once it resized into a full-grown woman wearing a hornet-like suit.

You scrambled towards the helicopter, Warmonger and the Vulture coming to blows in the air a few blocks away. Bucky's metal arm wrapped around one of the Hornet's wings and pulled, ripping it from her back in a brutish manner. She screamed as though the wing was part of her.

The large Russian woman struck Steve with her shoulder, pushing him further away from you. He easily broke her hold and landed several tight formation blows to her sternum and ribs letting out cracking sounds. She gasped through the breaks and Steve forced to her up from her knees in a gruelling show of unbridled rage.

"Belinsky!" Natasha screamed after her.

Steve held her up off the ground until her feet dangled. Even though they were of similar build, Steve barely broke a sweat as he held her up, his lips curling up into a smile the more she struggled.

Another slug ripped through his cheek, turning his head from the force and lacerating it in a straight line. Yet still, Steve's grip held strong and the woman -Belinsky- clawed for breath.

Shuri tried to get to her but was obstructed by Ghost phasing ahead of her, Sharon fired off several shots to pry an opening but was kicked square in the stomach by a stiletto belonging to Darcy. Pietro was preoccupied with trying to draw Spectre's line of fire away from everyone else while Natasha and Clint were locked in a matched battle. You cursed at the harrowing realisation that you and Bucky were too far away to make a difference.

"Don't do it, Steve!" You begged, the chopper muffling your desperate pleas.

Natasha reached for Belinsky but Clint sliced through her calf muscle, making her slip to the ground.

Steve peered over at you and Bucky, the veins in his arms pulsing with adrenaline, his pupil’s dark and diluted. His smile grew into a grin and your breath halted as he twisted her neck too far, the cracking sound ringing through the pandemonium of screams, bullets and chopper blades.

"No!" Pietro cried, stalling for a moment, allowing Spectre to drill a hole through his shoulder with the plasma beam. Shuri scurried to his side and yanked him to safety, leaving Sharon to face off with Ghost and Darcy. Natasha crawled towards the limp Russian woman, choking back tears, a scream tearing through her when she finally placed two fingers on Belinsky’s non-responsive pulse points.

"What have we done?" you gasped as Bucky dragged you to the helicopter, a hail of bullets firing at Spectre from the building across from you, drawing the android's attention away from Shuri.

Steve grabbed a discarded gun from the floor and fired at Sam, one bullet piercing his gut, forcing the helicopter to swerve just as you and Bucky jumped.

The plasma cannon broke through the barricade and Wanda, who still too weak to stand, tried to summon her powers but all she achieved was a flicker of her irises. As armed men scuttled into the room, she closed both her eyes, the look of peace and fatigue battling for dominance.

If she was going to go, at least she'd die amongst friends.

The sound of guns being cocked drummed into her ears and she took a small breath waiting for the inevitable to occur. Just when she thought it was all about to be over, a stark light exploded around her and out of the light came a suit of red and gold armour.

"Stark?" she mumbled in her delusional state.

"Half-right," Pepper answered as she took on the gunmen. She raised her hands, lights from the triangle power core charging up as she braced her stance. "This suit does have under-water capabilities."

You applied pressure to Sam's chest as his lung threatened to collapse.

"Shit, hurry Bucky!" You blared into the headset as Bucky took over the reins of the chopper and flew you towards the beacon of light.

"Hold on Sam," you ran your hand against his cheek in a comforting motion, sniffling your tears away.

"We're almost there Bird-man," Bucky looked back, his brow heavy with worry. "Hold on, man!"

Sam gritted his teeth, holding back his painful snarl as more blood soaked through the compress and seeped onto the diamond implanted in your ring, slipping between the cracks and turning the carbon stone blood red.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you let the harsh winds carry your words away from Sam's ears. "This is all my fault." You could feel his skin growing colder, his lips turning near white and all you could do was pray.

When the helicopter touched down, Bucky grabbed Sam and slung him over his shoulder, hobbling with him towards the beacon tunnelling through the ground like concentrated sunlight.

Out of your blindside, Steve's shield whirred past, striking Bucky's legs and fracturing the bone.

Bucky dropped Sam as he fell forward. It was then that you realised Sam's chest wasn't moving, it was agonizingly still. Bucky failed to stand on one leg, the throbbing pain from his shattered bones forcing him to bite down.

You turned around and saw Steve and Warmonger stride towards you.

"Steve, wait," you raised your hands.

Bucky dragged Sam on one leg towards the portal, Warmonger languidly stalked after them, biding his time, building the tension.

"Should I kill ‘em Cap?" Rhodey's voice became clear once his helmet was removed.

Steve looked at you and then back at the Bucky’s hopeless labouring to get Sam into the beam of light. "Not yet, I want them to struggle."

"Steve, please!" You caressed his cheek so he could look to you. "I know you're better than this. I know that some part of you doesn't want to be this man..."

He smiled, weakly, his fingers touching the love bite he had made on your skin in the med bay. "And to think, everything had been so different an hour ago." His hand braced around your neck with no pressure applied, at first. But then he began to squeeze, forcing you backwards. "How long have you been a spy? How long have you been planning on betraying me?" he screamed.

"St-Steve… It's not… It's not like that," you rasped.

He slammed you into a wall, hard. "No? I gave up everything for you. I left Sharon for you. Tore Sarah away from her mother! And for what? So you could betray me the first chance you got?"

"Let her go, Steve!" Bucky shouted out, a few inches from the portal, his metal arm braced around the unconscious, barely breathing Sam.

"Bucky… get… Sam… out… of… here!" You ordered.

"Not without you!"

You turned your eyes to him, neck stiffly held by Steve's tightening grip, a tear running down your cheek. "You already saved me. Now… save him!"

Warmonger kneeled over Bucky, his shoulder turret aimed at his chest. "Say bye, bye birdy."

Bucky shed tears of his own, his chin quivering, "I love you." he said, oceanic eyes falling to you as he stuck a hidden blade into Rhodey's neck and hoisted himself and Sam over into the portal.

You shut your eyes, "I know..."

Bucky's arm broke through the glass, landing on both his feet as the water pushed him out of the tank and spilt onto the electrical equipment.

"Bucky?" Wanda breathed, her eyes drooping from exhaustion.

Without a second to lose, he broke through the glass of Sam's tank, the beep of a flat line haunting his senses as he laid his friend on the ground and started chest compressions.

"One, two, three..." he forced air into Sam's lungs. “One, two, three." He repeated the action.

"Come on, you're more stubborn than this!" His flesh arms pounded on Sam’s chest desperately.

"Is… Is he?" Pepper failed to finish her question, her face obstructed behind an earlier prototype helmet of the Iron Man suit.

"Come on!" He cried out. "I can't lose anyone else." He beat limply at the rigid chest.

Wanda crawled towards Sam's body, the red mist trickling out around her fingers weakly. She hovered her hand over Sam's chest and concentrated. Her breathing turned ragged, strained from overuse, and with a yell, she discharged what little energy she had left into Sam's body, an electrostatic charge bursting outward, shaking his limbs.

At first, there was nothing, and dread loomed near, but then Bucky felt the faint beating of a heartbeat below his open palm.

Sam coughed out water, his eyelids pulling back slowly.

They all sighed in relief.

"Did… did we make it?" Sam asked.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, "Yeah, we made it."

"What about Y/N?"

Bucky's smile faded as he slumped against the wall. "She was right behind me, but then… Steve found us. He… he got to her. I… I couldn't save her." He braced his head as tears finally fell. “She wanted me to get you out.”

"No..." Wanda looked up at her best friend, still submerged in a tank. "No, I refuse to believe that. She's strong. She'll make it out of there."

Pepper walked over to the tank, reading the vitals on display. "Her heartbeat is erratic. She's in a heightened state of stress. She may go into cardio-vascular shock."

Bucky’s metal arm crushed the ring that was strung around his neck, the pathetic sound of the metal bending distracting him from the empty feeling gnawing in his gut.

They stared at the tank, waiting patiently with bated breath for her to open her eyes and return to them –return to her family.

 ***

Epilogue coming soon...

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[actuallylorelaigilmore]

i just need to vent. ranting about the us system for mental health care ahead. i wasn’t going to put it behind a cut, but it got obscenely long.

okay. so anyone who knows me or who follows this blog knows that my brain is pretty broken. it’s creative, and fun, and smart, and all that, but also just suuuuuuuper broken. 

because us healthcare is ALSO broken, i didn’t get my full slate of diagnoses until i was almost thirty. and that was a long, convoluted process that is a whole other story, but what matters at this point is that my fascinating brain is officially comprised of generalized anxiety, bipolar 1 disorder, autism, and adhd (plus i think a few cats in a trenchcoat).

now, if you’re not familiar with all of those disorders, like i wasn’t prior to being diagnosed, you might be surprised to learn that the combination? is INCREDIBLY fun. the stimulants that they often prescribe to those of us with adhd can trigger manic episodes in those of us who are bipolar, which means two parts of my brain are locked in a permanent battle to see which one gets treatment and which one just gets to drive me crazy.

before i won my disability case a few years ago, i didn’t have insurance, and i lived in utah, a state that is super proud to have healthcare for mormons & the wealthy and death for everyone else. while i was there, the battle over utah rejecting aca money just to spite the sick and poor was raging on, and so my mental health care was a free clinic that was prohibited from prescribing the exact medication i needed for the problem i went to them for. 

instead of helping treat my adhd, they gave me my first diagnosis that would eventually be specified as bipolar 1 disorder, and they gave me meds for THAT and told me it would probably help the adhd too. 

it didn’t.

but being medicated for the bipolar disorder was still pretty amazing. the difference between me on meds and me off them isn’t like, institutionalization yet, thank the gods. but it is the difference between feeling sad and then moving on with my day or me standing in one spot sobbing uncontrollably until i nearly pass out because a movie I HAD SEEN BEFORE was sad.

but you know what’s just fabulous about us healthcare? (spoiler alert: the answer is nothing) the care you have access to varies based on where you live!! and because we can all control exactly where we live based on our healthcare needs, that’s just wonderfully designed. really fantastic. 

so when we moved from utah to california, a move that was wanted but also financially necessary, i went from a localized system of university-based insurance to a different plan each time i found myself in a new city. because even if i was only moving a hour away, it put me across the county line, which of course changes your options every. single. time. you move.

and every single time i moved, and got a new insurance plan, i had to find new doctors. which meant waiting while i was transferred to the new plan, then waiting until i could see my new doctor, then waiting to see the specialist approved by my insurance, and none of that included the time it took me to actually contact each of those people, because i have to talk myself through an impending panic attack every time i dial the phone. 

but that’s not even the worst of it. the waiting sucks, the long loooooong gaps in coverage and going without my medication sucks. but the worst of it is not being able to be treated at all.

it’s been more than five years now, since i went to a college counselor who told me they couldn’t help with the focusing problems i was having that were so severe i couldn’t do my class readings. it’s been almost that long since the free clinic promised me that if i just took the anti-seizure medication that they used for bipolar disorder, my adhd symptoms would improve. 

it’s been years since the incredibly kind and knowledgeable psychiatrist in salt lake city explained my four concurrent disorders to me, and then explained why i couldn’t be allowed help for the adhd because it was just too dangerous. 

it’s been more than a year since i went to multiple talk therapy sessions that were required before getting me a prescribing psychiatrist appointment, only to be told when i arrived for that final, promised-land-after-years-in-the-crazy-desert-of-my-brain appointment, that the psychiatrist didn’t feel qualified to work with my multiple conflicting disorders and there was nothing anyone could do for me. i broke down crying in the lobby. i still feel bad for the receptionist who was given the awesome job of telling me that.

i think it’s been about a year that we’ve lived here now, in this NEW california city, where i have ANOTHER primary care provider. this one had trouble communicating with my autistic self at my first appointment, and i might still be there asking her to explain her questions better if my spouse hadn’t been in the room to translate for me. 

my new doctor (the third, or the fifth, or the seventh, at this point, i’ve lost count) will not prescribe mental health medication to me. i have to see a specialist. which i get on principle, it isn’t her expertise and i’m new to the area. but it’s a year later, and i’m still off my meds, and i’m still trying to get back on them, let alone get help FOR THE THING I SOUGHT HELP FOR five years ago.

today my spouse was able to get through to my referred psychiatrist, who i’d been getting the voicemail of with no reply for months now. he isn’t available. the last psychiatrist i was assigned won’t take patients who have the doctor i have as a primary care provider. the one before that wasn’t accepting my insurance--the insurance that assigned them to me. 

so now my insurance will try again, taking whatever next step they’re going to escalate to. if my spouse weren’t making the phone calls for me, i don’t think i would even still be trying at this point, because today’s dead end wasn’t even a surprise. i don’t expect anything else anymore. i’m so far past the point of losing hope, it no longer even hurts. 

this is where i am. something about where i live, or the way the system is set up, or how my brain is busted, makes me impossible to help. 

anyway, i whine a lot on my blog about not being able to focus, about not having the energy to function, about wanting to write or read a book, or make things. i miss knitting. i can’t keep track of the stitches when i try to follow a pattern, so i don’t do it anymore. but it used to be fun.

so i guess the point of this, beyond getting it all out because i feel numb and it’s unsettling and at least rambling my feelings proves that i have them, is that i’m pretty hard on myself, publicly and privately, when i can’t get my brain to work the way i wish it could. it’s a process of deterioration, the more i go without care and the older i get--and that sucks. 

but as hard as it is, it’s not all my fault. the external factors, things i can’t control, about america, about health insurance, about my brain...it hurts even more because i can’t control them, but i should try harder to remember that i can’t. the more frustrated i am, the more i feel like i’m not trying hard enough, and that isn’t true. i’m trying really hard, and i just can’t fix me alone.

i’d like to learn to blame myself a little less for that.