#and i have been telling my doctors over and over that i am rapidly deteriorating and won't be able to MOVE for much longer

[nexus-nebulae]

stupid fucking broken body

[seafoam-mermaid]

Ngl It’s been like a massive relief to be off instagram it was such a CHORE to go through my feed and see post after post from people that I don’t care about but still try to be nice and give likes and comments out just to never have the favor retuned 😩 Or have to see infinite numbers of girls that are all younger, prettier, smarter, thinner, healthier, more successful, more cared about, and more beloved than I am. Or fear mongering posts made by nutritionists and functional doctors that tell me that literally everything I’m eating, doing, and wearing is soo toxic and keeping me chronically ill and that it’s all going to kill me. Or all the followers/accounts I follow that do nothing but silently lurk and they never post, never like or comment shit, never say a word but all they do is LURK and it drives me bat shit insane. Or constantly have to be feeling upset about losing followers all the time for God knows what reason. Also not having to see my face/hair/body from even just a couple of years ago and feeling like I got punched in the stomach every time when I realize that I no longer look like that, that my health and appearance has deteriorated so rapidly in the past two/three years and have to feel borderline suicidal over the misery and grief and loss of it all. Anyway it’s just nice.

[five-rivers]

Danny slowly loses his memories from before the Accident.

“I don’t remember that,” said Danny.  “Are you sure I was there?”

Maddie raised her eyebrows.  “I talked to you about it just last week,” she said. “When I was asking you about what you’d like to do during summer vacation.”

“I remember that,” said Danny, uncurling slightly from his position on the couch.  “I just don’t remember the other thing.  I... maybe we talked about something like it.  When was it?”

“You were twelve,” said Maddie.  “It was just before your birthday.”

Slowly, he shook his head.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I remember, um...  What other vacations did we have?  Before the one where you thought I was crazy, it was, um...” He held his hands as if preparing to count on them.  “We went to New York that one time.  And then the Great Lakes before that...  Oh!  And that haunted house road trip.”

He frowned down at his hands, and Maddie felt something unpleasant curl in her gut.  

“Is that...  All you remember?” she asked.  

“Y-Yeah?  I guess the others were from when I was too young to remember?”

“The haunted house trip was when you were five,” said Maddie.  “Danny... have you been,” she didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to piece together other little oddities into a big picture, “have you been forgetting things?”

“No!” said Danny, defensively, sitting up straighter.  “I’m just...”  He chewed his lip.  “It isn’t as if I’ve forgotten anything recent.”

His abysmal grades and missed curfews begged to differ.

“One second,” said Maddie.  “Stay here.”

She went to her room and fetched one of her largest photo albums.  Danny was still on the couch when she came back, picking at the hem of his pant leg, and staring blankly at the floor.  Maddie sat next to him, making him jump.  She opened the album to a random page.  

“What were we doing here?” she asked.  

“Um,” said Danny, brows pinching together in confusion.  “Shopping?”

“For?” prompted Maddie.  

Danny shook his head.  “It’s just shopping.  It isn’t important.”

“Danny, this is from when we got you that model spaceship.  The one you have hanging up in your room.”

Danny blinked, and slowly shook his head.  

.

The doctor’s office looked clean.  It even smelled clean.  Danny was still doing his level best not to touch anything.  Maddie would have sighed at his behavior, but she was too tense.  She met Jack’s eye.  He looked terrible too.

“There are no signs of Alzheimer’s disease,” said the doctor.  All three of them sighed with relief.  “However...  You said the other symptoms, the difficulty in school, began after the electrical accident?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  

The doctor nodded.  “Electricity can do strange things to the brain, sometimes.  We haven’t been able to find any structural damage, but the activity levels...”  He brought a colored image up on his computer screen.  “This is where long-term memory is stored,” he said. 

“Doesn’t red usually indicate high levels of activity?” asked Jack.

“It does,” said the doctor.  “This is actually higher than usual activity...  Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on here.  I would like to request that you make a record of things that you currently remember as happening in your life, and then come back a month from now.”

“That’s it?” demanded Maddie.  

“Right now, since we don’t know what’s causing this,” said the doctor, “the best we can do is monitor the situation.  We don’t even know if this is an ongoing deterioration, or something more gradual.  On the upside, other than long-term memory, there doesn’t appear to be any damage.  Your timeline after your accident is clear and detailed.  The cognitive tests we put you through actually put you significantly above average...  This is what we can do.”

Maddie didn’t like it.  Danny didn’t look surprised.  Or even particularly upset.  

She caught Jack’s eye again.  They would have to be ready to support him, when the extent of what he had lost fully hit him.  

.

Danny floated down the icy hallway next to Frostbite.  “This isn’t going to be one of those examinations where I have to get undressed, is it?” he asked.  

Frostbite chuckled, but there was an undercurrent to it that usually wasn’t present.  “Only halfway.”  He paused to tap Danny on the chest.  “Your mind is no longer entirely contained in your head, after all.”

Danny rubbed at where Frostbite had tapped him.  “You don’t think that has anything to do with it, do you?”

“I’m unsure,” said Frostbite as they reached the examination room.  “It isn’t unusual for ghosts to lose their memories of their lives, but that is both more immediate and more complete.  Sit down here, and take your shirt off, Great One, and we can begin.”

Danny made a face at the item that looked like an overly complicated dentist’s chair with a large metal disk embedded in the back, but obeyed.  

“Here we are,” said Frostbite, pulling a complicated ring-shaped thing from the chair.  “This part goes around your head,” he said adjusting it to fit.  

Despite his cold core, Danny shivered at the frigidity of the metal.  

“These are to monitor your core, along with the matching one built into the chair,” said Frostbite as he attached several flat disks to Danny’s chest.  

“Are they, like, ultrasound?” asked Danny, running his finger along the edge of one of them.  He didn’t like how they stuck to his skin.  

“They work on a similar principle,” said Frostbite.  He turned on several nearby monitors.  “With this, we will be able to see how your brain and core react in tandem.  Can you transform for me a few times?  I want to compare with the baseline readings we took from you when you first stayed with us.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  

.

“Alright,” said Frostbite.  “Now, I am going to try sending a few low-intensity ectoplasmic pulses and currents through you.  Is that alright?”

“Sure,” said Danny.  

The first few left Danny feeling lethargic and tingly.  Other gave him so much energy he had to leave the room for a few minutes to burn some of it off.  Another, interestingly, turned off his ghost half, not unlike the Plasmius Maximus.

There was a rest period in-between each test, to make sure that they weren’t mixing results.  During those times, Danny and Frostbite would laugh and tell jokes and...

...  Danny trailed off in the middle of a sentence.  “Frostbite?” he asked after a minute.  “What was I just saying?”

.

“I want to stress that this is currently just a theory, Great One,” said Frostbite.  

“It’s okay,” said Danny.  “Just...  What is it?”

“Your memories are recorded in both your brain and your core.  You know this, correct?”

“Yeah.  You told me that a while back.”

Frostbite nodded.  “Normally, if one is turned off, the other one is still recording memories, and the memories will be transcribed.”

Danny nodded.  

“Or, if they are disconnected, in the case of the Plasmius Maximus, or your parents’ ‘Ghost Catcher,’ they will swap memories.  However...”

“Yes?”

“It is my theory that certain kinds of discrepancies between memories can lead to your core deciding that the discrepancy is an error and attempting to remedy it.  Great One, your core did not exist prior to your accident.”

“So, it thinks my memories from before that are wrong, and it’s getting rid of them.”

“I’m afraid it may be so.”

“Can you stop it?  I mean, you were able to artificially induce it, earlier...”

Frostbite made a face.  “The only things I can think of that could stop this would be unhealthy in the long run.  I do not believe you want to try to split yourself in two again.”

“No,” agreed Danny.  “Any-Anything else?”

Frostbite sighed.  “This is not something I can confirm,” he said, “but I suspect that the reason for your odd pattern of your memory loss is that the memories you dwelled on most often vanished first.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  “Because that would bring them to my core’s attention...”

Frostbite nodded.  

“Well.  That’s... not ideal.”

“I’m sorry, Great One.  Would that I could do more.”

.

“It’s all gone,” he said, without preamble, as he stood at Jazz’s door first thing in the morning.  

She looked crushed.  “Are you sure?”

Danny nodded.  “I remember remembering, but I don’t actually remember.  It’s weird and...  actually kind of a relief,” he said, tilting his head to one side.  

Jazz blinked rapidly.  “Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

He shook his head.  As his memories had disappeared, so had most of his remaining trust in his parents.  Between the memories of them caring for him, and the memories of them attacking or threatening him, the latter were more vivid.  

He still loved them, and his ghostly desires, that he literally could not remember living without, still focused on them, but that and trust were two different things.  It had been months since he’d started to fake retaining memories that he only knew about from reading his journals.  

“Sam and Tucker?”

This time, Danny nodded, the gesture much more enthusiastic.  “We were going to meet up later today, anyway.  Do you want to come with us?”

“Sure,” said Jazz.  She rubbed at her eyes.  “Give me a second.”

Danny nodded.  He wasn’t in a hurry.  “I’ll be downstairs.”

He could understand the grief.  He had felt it.  But it was over, now.  The only thing left was to make new memories.  

[champion-leon-imagines]

Chronicles of Galar - Chapter 3: A loss & Gain of trust

This chapter is kinda sad at first. As a warning, a minor (and non-canon) character death that hit you hard and you don’t know what to do.. then you meet Leon and everything changes. Your level of friendship increases and he gives you comfort in a way, no other person would ever be able to give you. Comfort!Fluff.

"[Y/n]..", Cynthia's voice was sad and battered and that alerted you directly. Cynthia rarely called, and only when it was important or bad news. Her pitched voice suggested the worst. "I hate to have to say something like that over the phone .. ... Grandmother died .."

Your eyes widened and tears began to run down your cheeks. You had expected all sorts of things, but this news threw you completely off the mark.

"W-what ..? W-How ..? She was very healthy and not yet that old .. ", you mumbled sadly and clutched your smartphone tightly while more tears ran down your face. Professor Carolina, the village elder of Celestic Town and grandmother of Cynthia, was like a mother to you. Carolina had cared for you since the beginning of your trainer career. Since you lived in Sinnoh for several years and lived with her, the two of you cultivated such an intimate and harmonious relationship. Her death news had torn the ground from under your feet.

"She had a heart attack .. Caused by an allergic reaction after she had been exposed to the poison of an aggressive Roserade .. Roserades release a special toxin that has so far remained undiscovered by researchers, as they only eliminate it when they are really feel cornered and have to protect their offspring .. Grandmother had found a nest and wanted to study it from a safe distance, but one of the Roserades has lost its nerve. She fought for survival in the hospital for days, but .. ", Cynthia said and could no longer speak through her own tears .

"For days ...? And you call me NOW ..? Cynthia, I would have left everything and gone to Sinnoh .. "

"I didn't wanted to ruin your adventure in Galar. None of us expected that Grandmother ... would not survive .. The doctors also said at first that she was recovering nicely, but then her condition deteriorated so rapidly .... And then I was just too occupied and sad that I forgot to call you earlier. I am so sorry.."

You felt terrible. Not only because of the loss, but also because you screamed at Cynthia like this for not letting you know sooner. "Don't apologize .. I'm sorry if I sounded harsh .. I .. can't believe it .." you mumbled sadly and wiped your face.

"We all feel that way in Celestia Town.. Believe me .. The .. funeral is next week .. on Wednesday ... Are .. are you coming ..? "

"Of course I'll come .. Cynthia, thanks for everything you've done for me. I'll never forget Carolina .. I'll see you on Wednesday .. I love you, big sister, okay ..? "

"I love you too, little sister .. take good care of yourself."

With these words, Cynthia hung up and you dropped to your knees to completely give in to your emotions. You were crying so loud that your brother and his fiancée ran from the study straight to your room and wanted to know what was going on.

It wasn't long before you felt overwhelmed by the comforting hugs and words of your real family. You gently pushed the two of them away and stood up. "Sorry .. But I would like to be alone for a moment .. I'll go for a walk ..", you said and walked to the door.

"Now..? Do you took a look outside? It's raining cats and dogs. Take an umbrella with you at least. ", Aki said , worried and crossed her arms.

"I don't mind .. It's just water .. I'll .. I'll come back later, okay ..?", You smiled sadly and raised your hand to say goodbye before you just stormed out into the rain. Aki shook her head and collapsed onto the hotel couch. You and them currently stayed in Motostoke.

“I never realized how close the relationship was between her and Professor Carolina. Her death hits her as hard as if a family member had died. ", Aki said quietly.

"She was a family member for her." Mamoru began sadly. “When [Y/n] lived in Sinnoh after our parents started to argue daily, the professor behaved like a mother to her. She raised [Y/n] without hesitation, and became more or less like a little sister to Cynthia. Professor Carolina was the caring mother, our mother couldn't be at that time. So I understand that her death takes [Y/n] with it ... ", he explained.

"Shouldn't we then follow her and be there for her?", Aki insisted. Mamoru shook his head slightly.

"No. She said she wants to be alone. My sister is strong. She won't do anything stupid. Let's give her some time. And when she has recovered, she will come back and then we can still be there for her. ", he smiled confidently.

"If she hasn't caught pneumonia by then.", Aki sighed slightly. Mamoru smiled sadly.

“Then we mustn't blame her. This is what she needs least of all at the moment. "

You ran around aimlessly in the rain for a few minutes until you lost your strength and sat down on a wet bench. Your clothes were soaked and your hair was stuck to your face so that you could barely see anything. But you didn't really care about that at the moment. You pulled back your knees and put your arms around them as you leaned your head on your drawn knees and sobbed softly into them. You couldn't even say goodbye to Carolina .. You wanted to tell her so much, show her so much .. So many things were unsaid .. For example, how grateful you were that she welcomed you so warmly .. How much you appreciated you had learned and how much you  loved to bake Christmas cookies with her one last time .. that was all over now. That thought just didn't go into your head.

Minutes passed. The minutes turned into hours and the rain just wouldn't stop. It was like the heaven cried for her too. Not that it helped in any way, because your own tears just wouldn't stop. At some point you could only hear the rain, but the droplets didn't seem to hit you anymore.

'Have my senses become so numb that I can no longer feel the rain on me ..?' You thought bitterly and then looked up. You blinked perplexed when a red cape was stretched over you. You saw Leon, who was holding his big cape over him and you and protecting both of you from the rain.

"You didn't choose a good day to sit out here." Leon laughed slightly until he saw that it wasn't just rainwater that had moistened your face. Your gloomy eyes made his smile fade and he held the cape over you more generously. "Did you .. cry ..?" He asked quietly. Normally you would have been happy to meet him here, but under the current circumstances, you couldn't utter a single word. Instead, you bit your lip to hold back more tears. Unsuccessful as it seemed, because more tears ran down your cheeks again and made you sob softly in response.

Leon seemed a little overwhelmed. How should he behave now? Nobody has ever cried in front of them, especially not a woman. The purple-haired man looked around for help until he noticed that his hotel was not far from here. "You don't have to speak right now, but we should get dry first, don't you think so?" He smiled and you nodded slightly when you got up. Then, under the protection of his cape, you ran to the hotel. As he entered, Leon called the receptionist to bring fresh clothes and a towel to his room. And a hot tea. You two went to an elevator and drove to the floor where his room was.

Once there, Leon took the towel and rubbed your hair dry. Then there was a knock on the door and the room service had brought a sleeping gown that you could slip into for the time being. Leon gratefully accepted the  gown and handed it to you.

“I'm going to have a look after the tea. So you can change in peace. ", He smiled and patted your head lightly before he got up and left the room. You looked after him slightly. The tears finally stopped, but you still felt miserable. Although another emotion was budded in your heart. A warm, pleasant feeling.. You were glad that someone was looking after you at the moment .. and he was so thoughtful.

A few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door. "It's me," Leon called. "Can I come in?" He asked, not wanting to burst in while you were changing. You thanked him very much for his courteous manner.

"Y-yes. I've already finished dressing. ", You said a little broken. The door opened and Leon held a small tray with the tea on it. He saw you on the hotel bed. The towel around your shoulders and in the hotel's white night gown. He smiled a little, because you didn't seem so exhausted anymore. After placing the tray on the bedside table, he sat down next to you.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Terrible .." you replied quietly. "But better than before," you added after seeing Leon a little worried.

"Would you like to talk now about what happened?" He asked further, looking at you.

"... The woman who practically raised me ... and was like a mother to me ... died." You wiped away the new tears and sobbed softly. "She was such a wonderful person .. Why did she have to die so early .."

Leon was silent for a moment and then looked sadly at the floor. His hands clenched into a fist and he didn't even know how to react.

"Professor Carolina ..?" Leon didn't even had to guess, since he already knew a lot about your past. You nodded sadly and Leon's face grew sadder. "I'm really sorry about that .. My deepest condolences .." he said sadly.

"Thanks ..", you mumbled and hugged yourself, trying to find some warmth.

"If I can do anything for you .. Tell me.", He offered you and you looked next to you. You swallowed lightly and sighed.

"Can you .. just hug me ..?" You asked softly. Leon blinked slightly. Although you had met a few times, both of you hardly had any physical contact so far. Except for a short, half-hearted hug as a greeting. This time it was different.

"Of course," he replied immediately and put his arms around your trembling body to pull you close. You buried your face right in his jersey and wrapped your arms around his stomach.

"Thank you ..", you whispered softly and muffled when you felt how he caressed your back soothingly.

"Don't mention it." he said and hugged you to give you the greatest possible comfort. You and Leon lingered in that embrace in silence. Your sobs grew quieter and your breathing became calmer. At some point the purple-haired man noticed that your eyes were closed. You must have fallen asleep. Leon smiled a little and laid you on the bed properly before covering you and caressing your cheek. Then he looked at his smartphone, which was about to remind him of an appointment. He got up and wanted to go when he noticed how you grabbed his hand and prevented him from going. "[Y/n] ..?"

"Please don't go now .. I .. don't want to .. be .. alone ..", you stuttered with half-open eyes. Your [e/c] irises shone from all the weeping and Leon looked at you desperately. He thought about his appointment and sighed. Then he put his other hand on top of yours and smiled.

"Alright. I'll stay with you. ", He said and sat down on the bed again. You smiled gratefully and pressed his hand to your cheek.

"Thank you ...", you mumbled softly and then held up your other hand, asking that he lay down next to you. Leon smiled and lay down next to you to pull you into his arms and hug you. You both looked at each other for a while before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

On the next morning, Leon's voice woke you up. He didn't sounded angry, but a little louder than usual. And he seemed to be talking to someone. You opened your eyes and blinked when you saw Leon pacing up and down the room.

“I told you Oleana. I couldn't meet with President Rose on this appointment because there was an emergency. ... a private emergency. No, it didn't concern me personally, but ... ... Now please listen to me. ", Leon sighed and rubbed his face in annoyance. You just couldn't talk sensibly to this woman. “Of course, I am aware of the consequences if I fail to keep important appointments for no good reason. But the reason was important to me. And I don't care if you see it any other way. … Yes, then tell President Rose that we will postpone the appointment until next week. ”He hung up and sighed deeply again. "I wouldn't want to work with this woman .." he mumbled quietly and turned around. He saw that you were awake and looked at him in shock. "Oh..“

"You had an appointment with President Rose yesterday ...?" You asked and Leon averted his gaze guiltily. "Why did not you say anything..? I wouldn't have held you here if I had known that you had an important appointment .. ", You said ashamed and straightened up.

"You needed someone.", Was his only answer when he looked at you again. His words only made you more shocked.

"You had put my well-being over your appointments ..?", You asked incredulously and put your hand over your mouth. Leon smiled and walked towards you when he put his big hand over your head.

"Of course. I can always make up or postpone appointments. But you cannot control your feelings. That's why .. it was more important to me to be there for you than to give Rose another stupid interview about why I'm the unbeatable champion. ", He said with a charming smile.

You felt like you were about to start crying again. This time, however, not from grief. The warmth of this man simply took in every fiber of your body and you literally threw yourself into his arms after these words. Leon blinked in astonishment before putting his arms around you and hugging you again as you buried your nose in his neck.

"I-I'm sorry, only because of me...Because of me your schedule got messed up .. I'll make it up to you, I promise," You said quietly. Leon laughed softly before pulling away a little and caressing your cheek.

“If you want to make it up, then .. I know of a small, cozy ice cream parlor. That serves the BEST Alcremie sundae in Galar. How does that sound? ”He asked and winked. You smiled and your grief was almost forgotten for that moment.

"Sounds good."

Since that day the friendship of you had reached a new, more intimate level.

[drwcn]

maybe after today’s acls training i can finally write that chengqing ER oneshot. 

— “Patient male, mid-twenties, motor vehicle collision, eta 3 mins” 

— “What no vitals? No GCS? ETA 3 mins? Who’s on the paramedic team?!” 

— “No one….Dr. Lu hit someone with her car on her way out of the hospital.” 

【A Midnight Conversation in Your Local ER】- Complete

[1] 

The night hunt had gone to shits.

That much was undeniable.

Jiang Cheng heard the panicked shout of his disciples just as he saw the array that he had stepped on.

Fuck.

The ghost of an once mediocre demonic cultivator wanna-be was going to bring Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin - the Sandu Shengshou - to meet his maker. The irony of the situation would be laughable, if he wasn’t so irrevocably screwed.

That was his last thought before his entire body was engulfed by a blinding light and the world he knew disappeared.

The ground beneath his feet gave away, weightlessness paralyzing his body though he did not fall. He felt…launched, his body warping and squeezing and stretching, the air sucked from his lungs into the endless black vacuum.

But just like that it was over. Jiang Cheng barely had time to make peace with his death before his feet touch solid earth again.

Or at least….he thought it was earth, this black, tarry hard thing striped with yellow and white. He stared at it dumbly, breathless and disoriented, barely able to react when a loud blare assaulted his senses and his world went blindly bright yet again.

This time there was pain.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu, ready to fight, but then his head hit the ground and everything went dark. When he woke up again, an indeterminate amount of time later, he was in a small tube and had a distinct feeling he was not wearing pants, socks or shoes.

How the fuck do you ‘scan’ a cat???  

[2]

Method actor. The nurse, from the other side of the curtain, mouthed silently.

“Sir, can you tell me your name.”

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wangyin.”

The resident paused, awkwardly contemplating how to continue. “Uh…..which is it? Jiang Cheng or Jiang Wanyin?”

“Jiang Cheng, zi Wanyin.”

“Traditional parents?” The resident tried to crack a joke, but it fell flat. The strange man stared up at him with a blank look in his eyes and a frown that was rapidly deteriorating into a scowl. The resident cleared his throat and cast his eyes back onto his clipboard. “Uh, ahem, just the name on your ID please.”

“My what?" 

"Your personal ID….like a driver’s license?”

“Cultivators of the gentry fly on swords or ride horses. We do not rely on carriage valets.”

“Eh… right. Uhm, can you tell me how old you are and what year it is.”

“I’m 39, and the year is jiachen.”

Lu Qi frowned from where she stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her resident and medical student work. 39? He looks like a college student. But he also thinks he can fly, so I guess age is the least of our worries. 

“Jiachen.…?”

The M3 fished his phone out from his scrub pocket pocket and typed it in. “Sounds like the ganji system, like an old timey way to record year used in the past.” He whispers clandestinely to the resident.

“….Right. And uh, do you where you are?”

The man scowled at him. “Am I supposed to?” 

The resident scribbled something on the chart, and then looked up with a plastered awkward smile. “Well, thank you Mr. Jiang for your patience. Wang Fei here is the medical student on our team. He’s going to stay and ask you a couple more questions if you don’t mind. Afterwards we’ll confer with our attending and the team will be back to see you shortly.”

As he turned away, the R3 grimaced and shared a look with Lu Qi, who was the youngest attending physician in their ER, but was not technically working at the moment and so was not on the case. And technically, as the perpetrator who hit Jiang Cheng with her car, she had a severe conflict of interest.

At least this Jiang Cheng dude didn’t seem keen on pressing personal charges against her for MVA or suing the hospital in general… but that being said…

Yeah, they’re going to need a psych consult. 

Unless he’s on acid. 

Well… okay, psych consult either way. 

[3]

"It’s okay, you can relax.” Jiang Cheng said, waving dismissively at the woman standing by his bedside. “I’m not going to take you to the magistrate for hitting me with your carriage - car. You didn’t mean to, and I just came out of nowhere.” 

“....Thank you.” 

“You’re not Wen Qing. I know that now. Your name is Lu Qi. You can call off those psychia - psych - psychics - head healers - or whatever, I’m not crazy. It’s not my fault, you just… look so much like someone I used to know."

"Wen Qing.” Lu Qi echoed. 

“Yeah. Wen Qing. She was a healer - a doctor - like you, but different.” 

“I see. What happened to her?"

"She died. Almost twenty years ago."

"I'm sorry... that's awful.” Lu Qi’s response rolled off her tongue so well, because she had said those word a thousand times during her residency. So much so that it no longer had much meaning to her. Tonight however, she meant what she said. “Were you two close?"

"No, well…yes, maybe. No we weren’t exactly friends if that’s what you’re asking. She...operated on me. Without my consent or knowledge. Took my brother’s golden core and put it in me and then lied with my brother to my face about it. So no we weren’t “close”, but Wen Qing saved my life - well the purpose of it anyway. Saved me from a life of ordinariness.” 

Lu Qi did allow herself to dwell too much on what the fuck a “golden core” was, because her gut response was almost instantaneous. “That’s shitty of her.”

She clamped down on her tongue. 

God, why did I have to say that? To his face?! He was obviously in love with this Wen Qing person and they were encroaching on some dangerous emotional territories, but Lu Qi swallowed down her caution and plowed on nevertheless. There were things she felt she had to say, and since she’d already hit him with her car, how much worse could this shit get? “What I mean is she shouldn’t have. Not without telling you. Besides...there’s nothing wrong with ordinary.” 

Jiang Cheng chuckled bitterly. “Maybe you’re right. Still...she didn’t deserve to die. What her clan did was not her fault.” 

Now that threw Lu Qi off. Did this guy...kill her? 

Lu Qi half wondered if she stumbled upon a Yakuza-esque member whose psyche finally snapped after years of murder and violence. And yet, he seemed perfectly coherent, no flight of ideas, no tangential thought, no hallucations. Even his delusions seemed...logical. 

I must be the one losing, damnit.  

Jiang Cheng scratched a little at his chest, as if palpating for the “golden core” that he spoke of. "She saved my life, but when she needed help, I couldn't save her. But, if I were to go back… I can't say I'll choose differently. My clan needed me, my clan who was almost cleansed by hers. No, no I wouldn’t choose differently. I don’t regret my choices, but I am sorry. Sorry to her, sorry to my brother. I'll always be sorry that she died, and that I failed her when she needed me." 

Jiang Cheng had no idea why he was telling this stranger any of this, but maybe after twenty years, he was finally ready to address this guilt that he lived with. I mean who else was he supposed to tell? Jin Ling? It was nice, to have that face as an audience, receiving his words of confession. 

"She would forgive you." 

Lu Qi had no idea why she was offering absolution as if she had authority in this matter, but when she said it, the conviction she felt was so real, it was almost as though some external force was acting through her.

Which was ridiculous of course, but... 

"How do you know? You're not her." Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I wouldn’t forgive me.” 

"No, but you said she was a physician. So she should know, more than most, that sometimes there is no choosing who gets to live or die."

Jiang Cheng fell quiet at that, and his gaze grew distant. Lu Qi thought perhaps he was no longer seeing her as she was in front of him - white coat, scrubs, stethoscope -  but someone entirely different. The tension he held in his shoulders slowly eased, and he sighed. In the silence that stretched between them, Lu Qi hoped that this strange man with his strange past could find a sliver of peace. 

[4]

— Did you love her? 

— I thought so, foolishly, but maybe I didn’t. Even if I did, it was not well enough. 

— Do you love her still? 

— No... I don’t know. It’s been too long...but sometimes, late at night when Lotus Pier is quiet, I think I do. 

...

— Are you ashamed of it? 

...

— No. No I’m not. 

[5]

The patient known as Jiang Cheng left AMA, that is, against medical advice. It was the term they used sometimes for people who just up and leave without informing the team. 

Lu Qi had gone out to check on his labs, which came back with bonker numbers (I mean really, a hemoglobin of 455, sodium of 200, and a HCO3 of like...3?), but Jiang Cheng was gone from Bay 6 when she returned. The nurse made the overhead page, a code yellow was called, but four hours later, Lu Qi was ready to admit that she was never going to see this Jiang Cheng ever again. 

Somehow, she was okay with that. She had said what needed to be said.  

Her chief had given her a call on her cell and told her to go home and sleep. The guy didn’t look like he was gonna press charges, let’s count our blessings and move on. But the night had just been too damn strange that Lu Qi was all wired up from it and couldn’t possibly fall asleep. She had handover at 10 anyway. There was a change of clothes and toiletries in her bag. She could always take a shower in the anesthesia staff’s on call room and sleep until then. 

Dr. Sun was the anesthesia staff on-call tonight and was currently stuck in trauma OR. They were buddies since medschool; she’d understand.

Sighing, Lu Qi took a seat on the bench across from the bougie cafe in the lobby of the hospital. At this hour, it was the only one still open in the entire facility. The drinks they sold cost an arm and a leg, but Lu Qi needed the pick-me-up after the night she had. 

As she nursed the last bit of her matcha latte, two bickering voices pulled her attention to the front entrance. 

“Aiyo, A-Liang I already said I’m fine! I don’t need to be here!” 

“Fuck out of here with that bullshit, Chen Zhaoxi. You fell off the fucking roof! If Wu Kun hadn’t called me, you’d have gone on -”

It was him! Lu Qi shot up. It was Jiang Cheng! 

But no...no it wasn’t him. The well-dressed man dragging the second man (dressed in red pajamas) into the hospital was not Jiang Cheng. He had the same face - chiselled, handsome, scowling - but it wasn’t him. For one, his hair was trimmed short and neat, unlike Jiang Cheng who looked like he walked straight out of a BL xianxia tv drama. Secondly, his face was softer, eyes younger, and he couldn’t have been older than Lu Qi herself in her early thirties. 

“I was just trying to get to the litter of kittens trapped -”

“Yes, yes, and it was very heroic and I’m sure it would’ve made Wu Kun very horny, and you morons probably would’ve fucked once he got home had you not made a valiant attempt at breaking your neck -” 

“Excuse me,” the security guard manning the information desk chastised sharply. “It’s 4am. This is a hospital! Lower your voices, sirs.” 

“Sorry.” The men apologized sheepishly. 

Then, A-Liang, Jiang Cheng’s doubleganger asked, “Could you please direct us to the ER? This is my brother, he fell off a roof.” 

Lu Bin had no idea what possessed her to interject. “I can take you there.” 

All eyes fell on her. She walked towards them, heart pounding. 

This can’t be happening, this kind of thing just can’t happen... 

A-Liang’s face broke into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss -” Then his gaze trailed to her badge, and he corrected himself, “Dr. Lu. I’m Shen Liang. This is my brother Chen Zhaoxi. I think he fractured...well multiple things, please help him.” 

“Of course, come with me. Let’s get him a wheelchair. If he fractured is leg, he probably shouldn’t be walking.” 

“I didn’t fracture -” 

“You, you shut up.” Shen Liang rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He can lose three out of four limbs and say ‘ t’s but a flesh wound’.” 

Lu Qi couldn’t help but chuckle as she put an arm under the complaining Chen Zhaoxi and helped him towards the wheelchair. 

Shen Liang’s smile widened. 

[Extra]

“Holy shit, took you long enough!” 

When Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui finally dragged Jiang Cheng to their portal site, Jiang Cheng realized that the transportation talisman had created a channel through realities between what looked like two metal garbage dumpsters in a back alley behind a food establishment marked by giant yellow bunny ears.

Standing guard there, Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen were each munching on a strange layered bread and holding tall drinks contained in...what was it called again? Right. Styrofoam. 

“What is that?” Jin Ling wrinkled is nose at it. Brat. 

“It’s a Big Mac.” Replied Lan Jingyi as if Jin Ling was stupid. “And this is a milk shake.” 

Jin Ling scowled. “I said the bag of gold I gave you was for emergencies.” 

“Yeah but we were hungry.” Ouyang Zizhen defended. He neglected to tell them that the cashier had refused to accept the gold and instead asked for “cash” or “card”, neither of which they had, so Zizhen used a liiiiil confounding talisman he learned from Wei Wuxian. They did leave more than enough gold though...and that ought to cover the restaurant’s cost for their “burger”lary . Reaching into the brown paper bag he held under one arm, Zizhen pulled out a little box that opened to show pieces of... something. “These are chicken nuggets. They’re delicious! Try one! They’re really good with this sauce....hold on...” 

Lan Sizhui sighed. “We don’t have time for this. The portal will close soon. Let’s get Jiang-zongzhu home and we can sample these exotic food later.” 

The boys agreed. 

Jiang Cheng shook his head and huffed. 

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13. 

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins​

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

           “Reid is in jail.”

           I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

           Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

           “Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

           “In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

           The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

--

           “This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

           “Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

           “The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

           “Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

           “We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

           “Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

           “Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

           “Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

           “Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

           “How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

           “Three days.”

           “That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

--

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

           “We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

           “Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

           Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

           “Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

           Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

           “Where did you meet her?”

           Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

           “I… I don’t remember.”

           “If you saw her, would you remember her?”

           Spencer nodded in affirmation.

           “You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

           “It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

           “And you’ve been drugged?”

           I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

           “Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

           “Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

           Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

           “Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

           Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

           Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

           “Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

           Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

           “Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

           Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

           “No.”

           “Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

           “Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

           Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

           “Can… Can you stay?”

           Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

           “I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

           “Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

           Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

           And then there were two.

           I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

           “Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

           As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

           “About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

           “I’m… In Mexico.”

           A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

           “You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

           I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

           “It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

           “Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

           “Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

           “How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

           “I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

           “Wait, so, where are you?”

           “I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

           “Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

           I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

           “The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

           “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

           “I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

           “I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

           There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

           “Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

           “Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

           “I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

           “Love you, too.”

           I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

           For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

           I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

           I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

           I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

           “I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

           He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

           I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

           “Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

           Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

           “I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

           “M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

           Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

           “Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

           The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

           “Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

           The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

           It would have to be enough for now.

--

           Nadi Ramos was dead.

           I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

           I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

           And target him he fucking did.

           “We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

           “How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

           “She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

           Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

           “We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

           “What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

           “He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

           I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

           “Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

           Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

           “It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

           “Do I want to know?”

           Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

           “Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

           “I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

           “Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

           “I’ll try.”

           Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

           “There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

           Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

           “What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

           Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

           “I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

           Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

           “Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

           Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

           “I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

           “Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

           Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

           “I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

           I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

           “I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

           I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

--

           When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

           We are so beyond fucked.

           “How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

           “He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

           “They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

           Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

--

           While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

           “We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

           “I don’t know how.”

           “He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

           “If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

           “Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

           “Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

           “I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

           Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

           “Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

           “So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

           “I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

           I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

--

           “We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

           “Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

           “Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

           “Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

           “We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

           Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

           “Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

           “Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

           “That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

           “Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

           “I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

           “So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

           “It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

           “Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

           “Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

           “Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

           “You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

           “I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

           “Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

           “Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

           “We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

           And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

           “What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

           Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

           “There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

           “Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

           “Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

           “Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

           “Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

           “So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

           “Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

           “Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

           “Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

           “Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

           “Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

           “I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

           “Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

           “Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

           “Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

           “That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

           “What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

           “Why?”

           “Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

           “Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

           “Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

           “This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

           Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

           “It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

           “We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

           Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

           “I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

           One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

           “With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

           Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

           I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

--

           “We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

           Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

           “I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

           “It was for the right reason.”

           “I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

           “We do, too.”

           Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

           “Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

           “Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

           We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

           “I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

           I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

           “I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

           “Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

           Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

           “For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

           I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

           We cannot give him that recording.

           Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

           “I didn’t record it.”

           Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

           “But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

           “I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

           Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

           Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

           “You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

           “We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

           But so is Scratch.

--

           All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

           Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

           “You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

           “I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

           “You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

           Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

           “Since when did you get so insightful?”

           A grin stretched its way across his face.

           “Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

           “And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

--

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?”            “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

           -Storm Constantine

[itsleah728]

Death Won’t Do Us Part

This story has a gender neutral apprentice and is a angst! This story also takes place during the time of the plague plus has brief mentions of suicide (I will put a warning before this)! Lastly I have decided to have you and Valdemar already dating 😉 so be prepared for that.

MINOR SPOILER WARNING! (I did not properly research the effects of the plague so I winged it)

READERS POV. (2nd person)

          You have been working for days on end trying to find a cure for the deadly plague. You and your master, whom you call Julian have been working together for a few hours now. The work is tiring and has only been giving you no good results and a pounding headache. You both want to give up but the head doctor Valdemar and your lover won't allow it even though everyone knows it's only because they love testing on others and not because they actually care about saving them.

        You and Julian are working on your final patient of the night when Valdemar waltzes into the room looking as bored as ever. They have some blood on them but everyone down in the dungeons does. They casually walk up to you and wrap their long arms around your waist. "What do we have here?" The speak into your ear making a shiver shoot up your spine which makes Valdemar chuckle at the reaction. Julian fails to see the exchange as he's too busy trying to properly preform surgery on the plague victim layed out in front of you. You try shaking out of their embrace but to no avail due to them tightening their grip. You roll your eyes but can help the fond smile that comes forwards. "We're trying to do some tests if you would please remove your arms" you bashfully mumble making Julian look up at you in concern. He already knew of the strange relationship but he simply hates seeing it. Valdemar sees Julians strange looks and simply glares at him. Julian seemingly sees this as he briskly gets back to working.

         A few minutes pass in their embrace until Valdemar squeezes your hips once more before stepping away from you, allowing you to work once more. Out of the corner of your eye you can see them walk towards your notes and start flipping through the pages. Not really minding, you turn your full attention back to the victim in front of you leaving Valdemar to gaze at you from afar.

SMALL TIME SKIP~

       After another hour of testing and an hour after that cleaning you are finally done for the day. Valdemar stayed in the room the rest of the night claiming they wanted to "see the results." Right when the day is done and everything is cleaned Julian dashes from the room and you know it's due to Valdemar's presence. Not most people enjoy being around them which is why your relationship is questioned and occasionally frowned upon. Even though at first you didn't like them either, they eventually showed you a side no one else had seen before. They act like your the most precious thing in the world while everyone else gets glares and rude gestures. You get snapped out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder. Turning around you see Valdemar staring at you lovingly. "Time to leave, even though I wish I could stay here longer" they mumble the last part and you scoff playfully at them for wanting to stay in the dungeons longer than necessary. You grab their hand and tug at it as if saying "let's go then."

        They lead you out of the dungeon as you walk hand in hand towards your shared room. As you walk a wave a dizziness washes over you, consuming your whole body. Your knees buckle and you collapse to the ground breathing heavily. Due to you and Valdemar's connected hands they fall to the ground with you. Your ears are ringing while black dots poke the edges of the vision. You can feel your body start to shake and all you can think in this moment is 'is this the end?' You faintly hear someone yelling out your name but it's too hard to tell as you finally succumb to the darkness.

VALDEMAR'S POV (1st PERSON)

          Me and MC walk through the halls towards our room when all of a sudden I feel MC start to shake. Concerned I turn towards them only to see their knees buckle as they collapse to the ground. "MC !" I scream as I kneel next to them and check over their convulsing body. 'What's happening' I think as my shaking hands continue searching their body for any external wounds. "SOMEONE HELP!" I yell down the halls of the castle because I know I can't do anything to help them in the halls or alone. "I NEED SOMEONES HEL-p.... now!" My voice gives out at the end of my statement as I watch in horror as my darlings eyes start to have a tint of pink in them. MC then passes out and my hands go up to my mouth. Tears slowly start streaming down my face and a million thoughts run through my mind.

A few minutes pass and I've run out of tears to cry for the time being. I shakily stand, dust myself off, and straighten my shoulders because I know that if want to try saving my darling I need to have the right mind set. Just as that thought passes my mind I hear someone dashing down the halls. I turn my body to see Julian running up to me, he comes to a stop in front of MC's frail body and his eye widen in shock. "What happened?" he questions in a whisper.

I explain to Julian exactly what happened and we both decide it's best to bring MC to the dungeons because we don't want anyone trying to harm or steal them away. I delicately grab ahold of MC's upper arms while Julian grabs their legs. We careful pick them up and start heading to the dungeons. I only have 2 things running through my mind. One being 'how can I save them plus what do I do if I can't ' and the other being 'how do I tell them that they may die from the plague.'

TIME SKIP~

READERS POV (2nd PERSON)

You come to with your ears still slightly ringing and your vision slowly clearing up. You spend a moment to take in your surroundings and try remembering what happened to you. You then suddenly remember that you were walking with Valdemar when you started feeling dizzy.... after that your brain draws a blank. You hear a small noise come from the corner of the room so you decide to slowly sit up. You place your shaky hands on each side of you and steadily push yourself up. It feels as if your body is being weighted down my 100 pound weights while your head feels as if it's being hit by a hammer repeatedly. After finally getting into a sitting position you can see that Valdemar is slowly pacing the room back and forth, seemingly not even aware that your awake. You clear your throat and Valdemar jumps in response. Their reaction makes your stomach roll because everyone knows that nothing scares Valdemar.

You watch with a blank face as Valdemar rushes over to you and starts fretting over you. You appreciate the gestures but you honestly just want to know what had happened to you, or what is happening to you. You place one of your frail hands over one of theirs and soothingly rub it. You slowly look into their eyes and ask "what is wrong with me?" You know whatever it is, is bad due to the way your body is feeling and the way Valdemar is comforting you. Valdemar freezes at the question and slowly sits beside you. They mumble something you didn't quite catch so you ask them to repeat it. You see them take a deep breath and just blurt out "YOU HAVE THE PLAGE!" You can feel your whole world crash around you with those 4 words. The worst part isn't even that you have the plague, the worst part is that you have to leave Valdemar. You can feel tears spring to your eyes and you want to wipe them away to appear strong but your body won't move. You can't tell if it's because your in shock or if it is because you're so deathly ill. You break out of the trance when you feel a warm hand wipe the tears from under your eyes. You then notice just how close Valdemar is to you and you try pushing them away. "You can't be near me you'll get sick.... I don't know what I would do if I caused your demise" you ramble with tears still streaming down your face. They take your hands that are trying to push them away and lightly start kissing each finger tip. The feeling makes your heart flutter but the words they say afterwords make you want to cry tears of joy. "Darling I am no longer human remember? Even if I was I wouldn't dare stay away from you." You both take a moment of just basking in each other's presence before Valdemar breaks the silence as they stand from the bed you're resting on. "I would love to stay here all the time but I must find a way to cure you!" You exhale a shaky breath and state "Valdemar we have spent months trying to find a way to cure the plague and we have found nothing.... there is nothing anyone can do....." Valdemar quickly turns towards you "I refuse to lose you!" They quickly storm out of the room after those parting words leaving you slightly sad. You slowly lay back down with a million thoughts running through your head.

TIME SKIP~

It has been 2 weeks now and Valdemar has found nothing of use. They have been spending most of their time just trying to find a cure for you. You know your time is coming to an end because your health is rapidly deteriorating. You eyes have now turned completely red and getting out of bed is an absolute chore. You don't even want to attempt walking or standing. Knowing that your days are numbered you have decided to spend your last few days with the love of your life.

Valdemar had finally stopped by your room to tell you the same thing they have said every other time, that they have found no new information. Normally they would quickly dash out of the room. They attempted this today but with all the strength in your body you grab their wrist stopping any other further movements. You can see their whole body freeze at the touch of your cold hands. They slowly turn around and you can see the tired and sad expression laced upon their face. You pat the spot next to you and Valdemar slowly sits down. You place your head on their shoulder and with no words exchanged Valdemar starts running his hand through your long/short hair. You bask in the silence a moment longer until you remove your head from their shoulder and say in the softest voice they have ever heard "I know it is not what you want to hear but I am dying and I wish to spend my last few days with you." You think you broke them due to how silent they have become until they decide to speak. "I.....I know....I am so sorry I couldn't help you" they say while grabbing your hands in theirs. "We can do whatever you want for they next few days."

TIME SKIP~

Your last remaining days were spent with you and Valdemar together. Just laughing and thinking of old times, better times. It was definitely some of the best days of your short life. You wish you could have stayed a bit longer just to be with them but your time came too soon. You died in Valdemar's arms just a few days after your talk. Not only did you die in that room but the soul of a demon died with you.

POV CHANGE (third person)

(WARNING: BREIF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE)

The other people living in the castle claim that Valdemar just disappeared after MC died. No one will forget the look of despair that came across Valdemar's face once MC took their final breath and said their last "I love you." Some people say that they have seen Valdemar just sitting in the hallway where it was first discovered that MC had the plague. Others say Valdemar isn't even alive anymore, that they have went on to be with their lover. No matter what the rumors say one thing will always be true and that is that MC and Valdemar will always love each other. Death will never do them part.

[iplaymatchmaker]

@nishtharya​ Thank you so much for requesting🥰🥰! I’m sorry for taking so long! I feel like I  have to also apologize after all that angst in the prompt. I didn’t really mean to make it this sad but I couldn’t help myself 😅, especially considering I have written a beauty and the beast au fic in the past that was also very angsty. All the feels came rushing back. I hope you still enjoy it!❤❤ 

I match you with:

Arthur!

I had a few other guys in mind but I think Arthur would be the only one who could really give back so much while keeping things interesting.

The man has met women who graciously return his advances, but no one managed to play him like you. The look of surprise on his face when you beat him to his own games is extremely entertaining. It quickly becomes a competition of smoothness between the two of you.

After you grow more comfortable around him, both of you realize you have more in common than you think. Your conversations on the dinner table are quite the sight, since you both won’t stop talking until the subject has been completely drained.

When the two of you get into a relationship, it’s very hard for you to keep your hands off each other. He always finds himself reaching for you, whether that’s when he’s writing or when you’re out in town. Your presence around him becomes so natural he finds it hard to focus without you around for long stretches of time. He definitely tells you that a lot, especially when you’re apart for too long.

When he finds out you write and sing your own music he absolutely loves hearing your work. It provides a lot of inspiration for him and he feels very productive when listening to you, even if you’re simply talking. He often asks about your opinions on his latest Sherlock stories, especially after he reads some of your writing.

When you sleep together for the first time he notice how hard it was for you to fall asleep, so he takes it upon himself to help distract you. He’s found quite a few things that often work , although his favorite is definitely cuddling, and other things, but this a family friendly show.

 Prompt 5: Fairytale AU:

“Arthur, open the door!” no matter how many times you yelled and knocked on the door of the large mansion, no answer came.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” You sat yourself on the steps, trying to appear calmer than you were. It was hard not to picture Arthur, alone and afraid, waiting for the inevitable.

“Where did we go wrong?” memories flashed through your mind as you traced your steps, trying to find any signs that this is where it would all lead.

  You had been with Arthur for years and had known him for even longer. You tried to deny it, pointing at your own tendency to over analyze, but his deteriorating health became more and more apparent by the day. He tried his best to brush it off, usually teasing you about how much you worried about him, until one day he collapsed and remained unconscious for the next two days. No doctor could explain the cause of this. He had been perfectly healthy. No problematic past, no underlying health problems. But now he was dying and there was nothing anyone could do.  

You looked back on happier days.  You vividly remembered all the nights the two of you had spent sitting next to each other, working on your stories, often turning to the other for inspiration or a simple word of encouragement when your insecurities got the better of you. He always had a way with words, a way to make you feel special.

The images provided some comfort and you slowly drifted off, still waiting for your love to open up to you, like he did before.

  When your eyes opened you were in a room you didn’t recognize. You were covered in a mountain of blankets and a hot piece of cloth lay on your forehead. When you sat up, you noticed Arthur, writing a few feet away.

“Arthur?” when he noticed you had woken up, he shot up, before tripping, landing back on the chair.

“Watch it.” You moved to get yourself out of bed but he stopped you, slowly lifting himself up, a pained expression on his face. Your heart ached for him as you watched him struggle trying to walk toward you. When he sat down next to you, some of the discomfort seemed to disappear. When he reached for your hand, a shiver run through you after the sudden contact with his ice cold skin.

“My love, you shouldn’t have come here. And you definitely shouldn’t have fallen asleep outside on the brick of winter.” You could see the concern painted on his face as he looked at you. The moment brought you back to the times before all this.

“At least I got you to open the door.” You smiled, sitting up to reach toward him. He pulled away before you could get too close.

“You should’ve left like I told you… There’s nothing for you here anymore.” You glanced at the rose, sitting on the small table by the windowsill. Very few petals were left.

“There’s you.” This time he didn’t move when you reached for him, cupping his cheek.

“I won’t be here much longer.” You didn’t want to think about what life would be like without him by your side.

“There has to be a way to stop it! We still have some time, maybe we can undo this!” he placed a kiss on your forehead, a kiss that felt too much like a goodbye kiss.

“It’s over, love. My time’s up. It’s time I join Rick again. I wonder if he’ll forgive me for not saving him.” You remembered Rick. He was a small boy, barely ten years old when his brother came to Arthur, asking him to treat Rick, who was suffering from a raging fever. He had been the first patient Arthur hadn’t managed to save, one of the many lives he still carried with him, the guilt eventually becoming too much.

“It wasn’t your fault. You can’t save everyone, you shouldn’t expect that of yourself.” you had worried about the weight being a doctor would put on him, but you had never expected it would be the thing that ended him.

“If I can’t save my patients… what kind of doctor am I?” no matter how hard you tried your words weren’t getting through to him and his time was running out.

“Love, please! Your guilt is what birthed this curse. It’s killing you! It’s in your hands to break it!” he had been cursed by his own mind for so long, growing weaker and weaker, until it manifested in the form of a rose, counting down his days. Tears slid rapidly down your eyes. He wiped them away, trying to take your pain along with them.

“I’ve always considered myself intuitive, but the mystery of my mind is one I’ll never be able to solve. But If I may, I want to ask a favor of you.”

“Anything.” You squeezed his hands, bringing him closer.

“It’s selfish of me. I’m the one who told you not to come here and yet here I am wishing you would stay by my side, until the end.” You nodded, tears blurring your eyes.

“I will, always.”

The next few hours felt like an eternity and like no time at all at the same time. There was so much you wanted to say but as you at next to him in front of the fire nothing came out. You could only watch as his life slowly faded away.

“Will you sing for me?” his eyes turned to you, a faint glint to them. You could tell he was struggling to focus, fighting to stay conscious, to spend his last moments with you.

Your voice filled the room, singing one of the songs you had written especially for him a few years ago. You tried to keep your voice steady, despite the situation.

As the minutes passed and the last petal begun to make its descend, his strength completely abandoned him.

“Ugh..”  he collapsed, falling limp on the floor.

“Arthur!” you run to his side, holding him in your arms trying to keep him from slipping away.

“Please, sing…” his words were barely more than a whisper, a sign of his end fast approaching. In spite of it all, he was smiling.

You tried your best to keep your voice from melting into weeping. You wanted to see him off the way he wanted to.

When the last petal touched the ground, he stilled. And so you allowed yourself to cry, unable to stop, to move away, to leave him.

Suddenly, a bright light surrounded you, lighting up the room, bringing warmth back to the empty space. When the light faded, Arthur’s eyes opened.

“Arthur!” you pulled him closer, so close, making sure you weren’t dreaming. He was alive, breathing and warm as ever.

“You’re alive! But how?” he laughed pulling you closer.

“Not happy to see me again?” it was such a relief to see him smiling again.

“Shut up.” You pressed you lips on his, feeling him next to you, just like before.

“I thought I was going to die. My life flashed before my eyes, but when I felt myself slip away, I heard your voice…” tears begun to form in your eyes again, the amount of information making it hard to focus.

“I… I followed your voice… I followed you and It felt like home.” Tears streamed down his face, his body still shaking from the adrenaline. “I guess I’m too much of a coward to die. Not even a self inflicted curse could keep me away from you.” You laughed, unable to contain your happiness. He followed suit, your happiness filling the once gloomy room, bringing you closer than ever before.

“It seems that I’m not going anywhere any time soon.

“You better not! I am still waiting to see the end of your latest story!”

“I would never leave my love hanging like that.” Everything in that moment felt right, preparing you for many more happy memories in your future, with him by your side.

[myhauntedsalem]

20 Doctors And Nurses Share The Creepiest Last Words Uttered By A Patient Before Dying

1.

I work in a cardiac ICU. We had a patient who had a pulmonary artery rupture (a rare, but known complication of a Swan-Ganz catheter). One minute he was joking around with us and the next bright red blood was spewing out of his mouth. His last words before he died were “why is this happening to me?”

It still haunts me years later.

2.

I’m an RT and had a vented trach patient in angio have the same thing happen. Vent waveforms got a little funky showing she needed suctioned. I walked up to her and saw bright red blood just start shooting up the vent circuit and immediately obstruct it.

I immediately said “she’s hemorrhaging” and the vascular surgeon said “no it’s just a little blood” thinking I was referring to his access site in her groin.

I popped her off of the vent and blood just started pouring out of her trach, mouth, and nose. She looked at me and said, “just let me die.”

The puddle of blood was about 6 feet in diameter on the floor within just a couple of minutes and I was covered from the chest down.

I’ve seen some shit, but that was the worst,

3.

“But I don’t know how to get there…” Grandpa in hospice. Hadn’t spoken in days. Died about 2 hours later.

4.

I’m a nurse and was previously working at an assisted living community on the dementia/Alzheimer’s unit. My very favorite patient had been declining pretty steadily so I was checking on him very frequently. We would have long chats and joke around with each other, but in the last two weeks of his life, he stopped talking completely and didn’t really acknowledge conversation directed at him at all.

I finished my medication rounds for the evening and went to see him before I left. I told him I was leaving for the night and that I’d see him the following day, and he looked me in the eyes and smiled SO genuinely and said, “You look like an angel.” I thought it was so sweet because he had not seemed lucid in weeks.

He died the next morning. It really messed with me.

5.

I overheard an old lady whisper this to her old husband dying of kidney problems.

“You are going to beat this, you got away with murder, this is nothing”

6.

Nurse here – had a patient come into the ER with shortness of breath. He started deteriorating in the ER, and then quite rapidly on the transport up the ICU. We got him wheeled into his room, replaced the ER lines and tubes with our own, and transferred him from the transport stretcher to his ICU bed.

He actually did most of the transfer himself. He didn’t say anything, but just before he died he pleasantly adjusted his own pillow, laid his head down, and then his eyes went blank. This man just made himself comfortable before laying down to die.

7.

Dad had MS. He’d had it since he was 18. Diagnosed at 20, married my mom at 24, had me at 29, died 15 days short of 45. Six months before that, he was put on hospice. He and Mom were discussing funeral arrangements, and my mom jokingly said, “You know Tim, the best thing you could do would be to die on a Wednesday. That way we can have the body prepared on Thursday, the viewing on Friday, and the memorial on Saturday, so more people could come.

The morning we got the call that it was time, my mom, two sisters, and I were about five minutes too late. After we said our goodbyes, the nurse pulled my mom aside and asked if that day had any significance. It’s not even 6 am yet, so Mom doesn’t even know what day it IS much less if it’s important. The nurse tells her it’s May 21st. No… nothing is coming to mind.

The nurse told her that the previous day he kept asking what day it was and they’d tell him it was the 20th. He’d look irritated but accept it. That morning, he asked what day it was, and they said, “It’s Wednesday, May 21st.” He smiled, squeezed his favorite nurse’s hand, and was gone almost immediately.

It was Memorial Day weekend, and we did just as he and Mom had planned. And despite many friends being out of town for the holiday, we had over 250 people show up at the memorial service, overflowing the tiny church more than it had ever been filled. To his dying day, he was trying to make things easier for our family. I miss him.

8.

My grandfather on his deathbed said “they have no eyes,” still give me chills.

9.

“Get home safe, little one.” It wasn’t what he said – he said the same thing to me any time I had him as a patient for the evening. It was how he said it. He gave me this look and pause like he knew. The DNR’s in my experience, always know when it’s time. It’s creepy.

10.

Checked in on a patient before the end of my shift and she was in good spirits, had been joking with me the whole time. Her condition was tenuous (new trach) but she had been positive throughout. I asked how she was doing and she replied by singing “The old gray mare ain’t what she used to be” and wished me a good night.

I came in the next morning and she had coded and died overnight.

11.

Came into an early shift and was handed over a patient who’d been very anxious and had a panic attack overnight. He was anxious all morning but obs all fine, ecg fine and so I just asked someone to sit with him to keep an eye on him/reassure him for me. He gets worse, really panicky, heavy breathing, he’s on his side in the fetal position.

Drs will be in in 10 minutes so I tell him I’ll get them to him as soon as they come in but ask if he’ll lie on his back for me to help his breathing. He tells me he won’t make it until they get here and that he won’t face the other way. Obs still all fine at this point but he’s more agitated so again I suggest he move position for comfort and that’s when he says, ‘I won’t make it until the Drs get here. If I turn to face the other way I’ll die’. He repeated this a few times to me.

He arrested literally as the Drs walked in and he died on the side he’d been refusing to turn to. I’m convinced he knew.

12.

I’m an apprentice funeral director. We went to a nursing home on a removal and as we were walking down the hall one of the patients got antsy and opened the door to his room and saw us walking with the stretcher.

“I’ll see you next week boys”

And guess who we had to pick up the next week.

13.

I found one of my “comfort measures only” patients standing at the side of his bed. It surprised me because he had been mostly unresponsive during my shift. I helped him back into bed and he asked me why all these people were in his room.

He suddenly became quiet again and I noticed he wasn’t breathing. He was a DNR so there wasn’t anything to do to try to bring him back. Looking back he may have been talking about me and the CNA that was helping me get him back into bed, but who knows what or who he was seeing the last minutes of his life. Still creeps me out a little when I think about it.

14.

I had a cousin that had cancer and died when he was a little kid. He once asked her mother why all these people visited and she said: “Because your cousins, aunts and uncles love you very much and want you to get better” and he answered, “I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about the ones that visit me at night.”

15.

My first hospice case. She was on morphine and started mock smoking. She looked at me, took my hand and said “please” in the most pleading voice I’ve ever heard. I sat with her body until the corner arrived. She has no friends or family. Only her lawyer showed up. I’ve only done one hospice case since.

16.

I’ve commented this somewhere before but it’s stayed with me! I’m an RN and while I was a student I was caring for a lady who had end stage renal failure, had a DNAR and was shutting down. We were having a little chat, well I was chatting away while helping her put on some lotion, when she stopped, looked over my shoulder and said, “Bill’s here love, I’ve got to go” and swiftly stopped breathing. Read her old notes and Bill was her deceased husband.

17.

DNR patient was on comfort cares. Was on a high dose of morphine and hallucinating. She would alternate between grasping for things not there and trying to climb out of bed. She was too unsteady to walk so my job was to sit in the room and make sure she was safe. She tried to get up and I went to ask her what she needed. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down towards her face and said, very angrily, “kill me”. That one fucked with me for awhile.

18.

Back when I was a CNA this one resident fell off a bike for exercise in pt and seized, they came to and became lucid and said, “I think I’m dying,” but everyone in the room assured her that wasn’t going to happen, she seized up and was dead within minutes.

19.

Last year: my grandfather started desperately pleading for his life with his German captors from WWII

The doctor present was smart and said in German: “You are free, Herr Caticature. You are free.” And then he died.

20.

I actually have 3 that stick out in my mind. An 83 year old woman that said “My mom’s here. Are we going?” She died a few minutes later.

Another older lady said “I think I’m going to die today…” we took vitals, everything seemed fine. She was stable. She had a heart attack a couple hours later. Not her last words, but the last she ever said to me.

The last one is definitely the creepiest. A nice old lady who told my CNA she wanted to wear all white. When asked why, she said “The man in black is here.”

She looked in the corner of the room. The CNA looked, but there was no one there. That’s when I came into the room. We asked her to describe what she was seeing and she said “he’s in all black, and he’s got a top hat on.” Then she whispered “and his eyes are red” while her eyes moved across the room to directly behind the CNA, like she was watching him move closer to us. She died later that night. But it was unexpected. That room creeped me out for a long time after that.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Red Well: (Part 4) Merry Christmas

Here we go yo. Thanks for reading

You really thought you had Herzog pinned. But Herzog knew you too well. Even though he wasn’t sure how you’d escape the well, he had calculated that you would and prepared not a deadly trap, but a non-lethal but extremely strong net. He knew your Soul Skill and he likely attracted you up here intentionally, to get you out of the way.

In fact, he was so prepared that you saw a massive wall of large dump trucks that you figured were full of deadpool. While you were down in the well with Ruri, these trucks were already parked as a barricade for any further escape. 

You smile up at him, completely bound in super strong and extremely sharp nanofiber. It was engineered to tighten as you struggle. If you wanted, you could probably break it but only at severe injury. Already the near invisible threads were cutting off your circulation. If you continued to struggle, you would probably lose limbs as the threads cut through completely.

You smile up at him peacefully. “Ahh… you got me.” You say in a soft voice.

Herzog was wearing a slim-fitting tuxedo with straight suit pants and a bright purple shirt, a white silk bow tie, and black and white brogue shoes. Herzog crouched next to you and stroked your hair. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I hope you can have a bit of a chat!”

“Of course!” You say brightly. Your heart is beating but you feel a weird mix of joy and chagrin. You wanted to kill him but he’d knocked you flat, and you weren’t even angry.

Herzog put away the gun, pulled a knife and neatly cut the fiber. You glanced at the blade but didn’t say anything. Something strong enough and sharp enough to cut these strings wasn’t ordinary. Cutting those threads was a clear threat not to misbehave. You sit up and he helps you up with one hand behind his back like a gentleman.

A table was already set up on the engineering lift platform. There were candlelights on a white table cloth and a bottle of Red Label vodka with two glasses and ice. “For me? You shouldn’t have!”

“My work took me away from the wedding! I had to make it up to you somehow. I had a friend record it for me. It was quite beautiful.” Herzog pulls out a chair and you sit down smoothing what was left of your dress. Herzog sits across from you.

He had a front row seat over the heart of the storm, but the scene below was so calm. A curtain of huge raindrops hit the bloody battlefield and make ripples on the red lake.

Chisei Gen and Ruri Kazama walk slowly around in a circle, as if this is the stage where the actors say their long-written dialogues. Ruri Kazama walks silently, the wind pulling his robes away from him like a frail maiden, while the dragon-type Emperor Gen Chisei makes a heavy sound like an armored warrior.

You take a sip of the vodka and feel its warmth radiate down your throat. Herzog was relaxed, tranquil as a Buddha. Right now, you could ask Herzog anything you wanted and he’d probably answer honestly. He’s won and you were going to die. So you switch to your familiar home Russian language and call him softly, like you used to in Black Swan Bay. “Doctor.”

He turned to you. His face was still covered in the white mask.

“Why… do this? You’re so smart. You could do anything. You could change the world in countless ways. You could stop everything now and … go cure cancer or end world hunger… or something”

He closed his eyes and laughed, speaking to you in that voice from your childhood. “Those are all very high level aspirations… but the world is very basic, my dear. Dragons ruled thousands of thousands of years and, even though they were defeated, they are so enduring that they will rise again eventually. When that end of humanity comes, only those who are on the dragon’s side will endure.” He replied.

“So you … want to endure. Then… When humans win, will you go back to human’s side?”

He picked up a cigar and lit it. “If humans win again. Once the Black King rises, he might do with them what he did with the White King. Or… attempted to do. Now… more to your point about … stopping now.” He breathed in and let out a puff of smoke. “Let me ask you this. If I did stop now. Let’s say, I decide that I don’t want what I’ve pursued all my life. What then? Would you let me live my life peacefully? Just walk away and cure cancer?”

You’re silent for a moment. It was unlikely. Even if you didn’t pursue him and forgot he existed, there was no doubt that Cassell and the Japan Branch wouldn’t forget and pursue him.

“You see, you could pass a merciful judgment, but the people over you.” He pointed up to the sky. “They feel differently, so your judgement has no standing. You do not make the rules or the decisions here because you don’t have the power. Only those with the power can make the rules. So no, I cannot stop until I am over all and no one can challenge me. That is the way of evolution.”

“I disagree with your views on evolution…”

“Go on.” He puffed again.

You’re getting suspicious of his lack of urgency. Wasn’t he watching the clock a minute ago? “You say that Evolution is just the weak against the strong, that it’s just the strong devouring the weak. But even the weak have strategies or else they would die out. If the strong stop adapting to the strategies of the weak, they die out. If the strong become too strong and devour everything, they die out. Evolution is about balance and equal competition. Your theory of evolution has no balance. Your way of thinking, this one way pursuit of greater strength, will not destroy the world or devour the weak. You will just die out once you run out of food. Surely, you’ve considered this.”

He smiled. “It feels good to discuss these topics with you. You’ve always been possessed of great spirit and intelligence.” 

“You’re changing the subject.” You grumble.

“If I die out, then it means I have been unable to change the world, and it will be a fitting end for me. Now, I have a question for you, my dear.” He reached up and took off his mask. 

You gasp. “Bondarev? … w...wait.” Under the mask was not Herzog, like you expected but the face of Tachibana! You tilt your head. “I figured you escaped the fire…” It hits you again, harder this time.

Herzog waits, smiling watching the magic unravel in your mind.

“At Tokyo tower. The other body was a fake. No… it was a real body but a different person. Wearing a mask. You were controlling a body double? To make them pretend to be you? You did that from up here too? You never entered the Red Well yourself.”

“Body doubles are a common spy practice. After I escaped the fire that killed the identity of Tachibana and Bondarev in the mind of Hydra, I was able to suppress Ruri while I completed my preparations.” He said. “I see you weren’t quite fooled. But you still believed Bondarev was alive as an individual. No… I killed Bondarev long ago and assumed his identity.”

“I see. So you were aware of Hydra’s and The Devil Clan’s activities.” You say, sinking into your chair.

“Indeed, I created both organizations to complete my work. Now I need to ask my question. How did you do it? How did you escape Black Swan Bay?”

Your mind was still flipping through your memories. Herzog knew from the beginning, from the moment you arrived in Japan, that you were here, that you were alive. Through his Hydra contacts, he knew your every move. When you met Ruri, he tracked you again through the Devil Clan. No wonder he knew where you were to send Hydra operatives after Chance in the park. He knew ...everything. Everything was his fault. All the pain, all the sorrow and loss and danger and struggle. He was behind all of it. One hundred percent.

You answer his question. “I wish I could tell you how I came here today. But I don’t know. I fell into the ocean.” You said. “Even though the ocean was frozen solid that time of year, there was a gap in the frigid water that I fell through that was created when the Lenin ship arrived to take the dragon specimen away. I must have been encased in ice for those 20 years. But I don’t know how anyone found me and I don’t know how I lived.”

“So there’s someone else out there who knows about the unnamed port?” He looked at you. 

You nod. “He’s been pulling my strings from beginning to end. To this day, I don't know what his aim is.”

Herzog was silent and his face grew serious. “Is he here?”

You answer. “Probably.”

An unnamed piece of the puzzle, another variable!

There’s an explosive boom and you’re suddenly pushed out of your chair and launched back. Pain explodes in your abdomen and you’re surrounded by a cloud of poisonous mercury vapor! Herzog rises again, his mask over his face. He snuffs out the cigar. “I’m going to miss you.”

Herzog is carrying Western Watch, the pistol with a huge muzzle that could fire explosive mercury rounds and is extremely effective against Deadpool.

You stagger to your feet, gasping. You try to summon your abilities through the blood of Ruri Kazama. Your eyes flicker, but that surge of power never comes. Surrounded by mercury gas, you’re weakened. The wound in your stomach is gaping and pouring blood. The skin around it is turning white and the scales are falling off! A cough stings your lungs and splatters your dress with red. 

Ruri’s blood was only a temporary solution. Ruri had warned you. You couldn’t stay apart from him for long without your condition deteriorating. It seemed that while you chatted with Herzog, you were weakening rapidly.

A low chuckle came from the fog of mercury. It seemed to come from left, from right. Like he was moving so fast to keep you guessing where he would appear. But you didn’t need to rely on your ears. Those spiritual tendrils were still in the ground. You could feel the vibration of his steps.

Behind you! You whirl and you’re suddenly gripped in a hug. But this wasn’t a friendly, loving hug of a father. This hug shoved a dagger in your back. It squeezed you so tightly you couldn’t breathe. It squeezed so tightly your bones were starting to strain!

Something hard was pressing against your chest and shoulder. They weren’t the King’s bones, but something under his jacket. Your eyes widen and turn bloodshot and then they turn bright fiery gold! Snakes slither about in your mind and reveal piercing golden eyes!

If you used blood rage now, there would be no turning back. But it was fine since you were going to die anyway. You would die on your terms and take Herzog with you!  Your dragon blood surged rapidly. Your whole body becomes covered in fine scales one by one, your knotted muscles protrude like iron bars. 

Had Chu Zihang been here to help you, he would have told you that Blood Rage comes in degrees.  You’d never be able to ascend to be a pure blooded dragon this way, but you would come very close. He would have told you that, like a very fine grain of sand, your humanity cannot be crushed and, as a result, you will be a Deadpool, not a dragon. He would say you ascended from nothing to the highest level, Third Degree of Rage!

But that was more than you needed to tear through Herzog’s fine suit. Your bones fractured to twice their normal joints and those bones all move independently. Hundreds of barb-like bone spikes penetrate his body all at once!

He pushes you away with a mighty yell and kicks you so you skid across the dirt. He’s bleeding in countless places. The whole front of his suit is stained red. But those wounds rapidly heal and the bleeding stops.

He’s frowning, irritated, and a bit disappointed in you for sacrificing your life so pointlessly.

But you’re laughing as you stagger to your feet. Your heart is gleeful, so gleeful that you shout. “Merrry! Christmas! Merry Christmas, Father Frost!” in Russian.

Herzog scowls but then he smiles brightly, looking like the Herzog he always was. “My, my… you’re quite the powerful deadpool aren’t you! It’s been a pleasure. Now. I must go. Time is short!”

He reached into his jacket and frowns. He pats his jacket and pants and then stares with horror as you stand there holding those two dark colored pieces of wood in your hands.

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

You’re laughing, your hot dragon breath coming in a fog.  “MERRY GODDAMN CHRISTMAS!”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The trucks that surround you come alive with the sounds of babies crying. But these babies were big and strong enough to rock these 10 ton vehicles off their wheels. Gigantic serrated claws tear through the metal like they were tearing fine linen and hundreds of eyes glow golden in the dark and the rain. Every single truck was filled with deadpool nearly a hundred each! With at least 10 trucks they were about a thousand! These were the last of Herzog’s creations. After today, he wouldn’t need them any more and he had wanted to use them on you. But you had stolen that power.

The deadpool fall over each other in a mad dash, tumbling out of the trucks in a pile and rushing towards the cliff, dragging their heavy snake-like bodies on the ground, driven by the sound of the clapper. You back into the crowd of them as they rush Herzog. Herzog himself doesn’t bother to run. He knows there’s no escape from the trap that he himself set.

He looked at you and smiled one last time. “Perfect. Merry Christmas, MC.”

Then he was engulfed by the seething mass of golden bodies. They shredded his suit, dismantled his bones and ate his flesh. They took the mask and shattered it like it was so much pottery. Herzog could not come back from this. You smile and watch, filling with triumph and a bit of sadness.

Your time was up. You were going to lose your mind any minute. Even now, the strong pull of the blood of Herzog was drawing you to see what it might taste like. But you had a feeling that once you started licking that blood you could never go back. You tapped the woodblocks in a second pattern, one you were familiar with that was used to control the children, and the deadpool were seized with epilepsy, wailing and hissing and screaming until they fell silent, flopped to the ground all at once like empty wooden dolls.

You staggered over to the lift elevator and pressed the button. The mental tendrils of your Soul Skill are telling you that no one was moving in the well. In fact, Chisei and Ruri Kazama were just staring each other down, but you didn’t hear voices other than Ruri’s soft singing.

“Ruri… Herzog is dead. I killed him for real…” You say once you’re at the maintenance platform again.

Ruri is standing there, his smile stretched in horrible joy. Chisei faced him. He didn’t move or speak or acknowledge your presence. You step around them looking between them. Ruri’s eyes were spinning with bright gold mandalas. When you look into Ruri Kazama’s eyes, the Red Well disappears and you’re plunged into darkness.

You feel paralysed. You can’t move. Your eyes roll around in fear and you startle as you see at least 12 women. They were beautiful but they were frozen like statues and dressed in elaborate kabuki costumes. You count twelve of them. You were the thirteenth statue.

You seem to be in some sort of basement. Discarded equipment sat dusty against the wall. And there were old dirty gym mats on the floor. It smelled horrible and that horrible smell was coming from a cast iron tub in the center of the room that was filled with chemicals. And in front of that tub, Chisei sat, looking human again, looking much younger, wearing the black trenchcoat of the Executive board, with his Spider Fang sword in his hand. He was staring at the door of the basement, as though waiting for someone.

[pokeprism]

Altered End: Chapter 5 (Rest And Release)

This is the fifth chapter to my Undertale AU! The raw text is below the cut!

FIRST: Prologue --- PREVIOUS: The Perfect Plan --- NEXT: Just Passing Through

The day in Snowdin Town dawns, and like he always has, Papyrus is up at the crack of dawn. Papyrus opens his room’s door and starts into the main part of the house, ready for his meeting with Undyne today, but then suddenly stops halfway down the stairs when he sees someone new.

“Nyeh?!” Papyrus exclaims.

Chara, who has been resting on the floor for the past several hours, stirs at Papyrus’s remark and looks in the direction of the noise. After recognizing Papyrus, Chara lifts off the floor and begins to do their morning stretches. Papyrus, unaware who this person is, silently keeps his eye sockets locked on Chara as he tries to identify this other. After getting done stretching, Chara looks back at Papyrus and notices that he’s looking them in the eyes.

“Um…. You can see me…?” Chara asks with a concerned expression.

“Of course smaller human!” Papyrus exclaims. “But how did you get in my house...?”

Chara stumbles for a moment, but then regains their bearing and says “I’m Frisk’s travel buddy. Sorry for coming in unannounced!”

“Oh. That’s so cool! I have so many questions already!!!”

Frisk stirs awake at Papyrus’s remark, and gets up with morning haze affecting their mind. Papyrus begins asking questions so fast that Chara can barely keep up. Frisk then notices Papyrus looking squarely at Chara, and gets up as the haze begins to ebb from their mind. Papyrus sees Frisk move, then stops his barrage of questions as his attention shifts to the other human in his house.

“Greetings, Frisk! You didn’t tell me you had a travel buddy!” Papyrus says.

Frisk tiredly nods to Papyrus before turning to Chara with a raised eyebrow. Chara sees Frisk’s expression and shrugs with an expression that conveys their mixed feelings. This is about when Sans begins to stir, and upon hearing the racket outside his room, he gets up and walks out his door. Papyrus hears his brother’s door creak, and turns in its direction.

“Sans?! You’re awake when you’re supposed to be?!” Papyrus exclaims.

Sans answers with “Welp, I was just hearing’ some commotion, and-”

Sans sees Chara, and notices that their outline is much more defined than before. Sans looks to Frisk, and Frisk notices his gaze and shrugs, not knowing what to say.

Sans turns back to Chara. “So kiddo, any thoughts about being more visible?”

Chara verbally stumbles. “Uh… My thoughts are a little jumbled right now…”

Frisk blurts out “Well that means anyone can see you now.”

Chara freezes in place. Their thoughts begin to race, with most of them geared toward what Asgore and… Asriel… Will think. Chara snaps back to reality as they realize Frisk’s hand on their shoulder.

“Chara, it’ll be fine. I’m sure Asgore will understand.” Frisk says.

Chara, not wanting to appear even vulnerable, says “Okay then… Got it frisk.”

Papyrus can’t believe this. “Nyeh?! You both have met KING ASGORE?!”

“Eh… Sort of…” Frisk says, verbally attempting to cover their tracks.

“Wowie! I never got to meet him until I started my royal guard training!” The whole room goes quiet. Papyrus, noticing the silence and where he has to be, adds “Speaking of that, I have to go meet up with the captain! See you all later!” then zips out the front door.

A moment after Papyrus’s sudden exit, those remaining in the house all look to each other.

“Frisk, ya know that you’ll have to venture through Waterfall at some point, right?” Sans asks with a curious gaze.

“My plan is to head out soon.” Frisk answers.

Chara drifts over to Frisk and sets a hand on their shoulder. “I’m scared I’ll be recognized, but I know Frisk will help me if I am.” Chara cracks a smile as they add “We’ll do our best!”

“Got it kiddos, I hope ya both make it past Waterfall in one piece. I’ll see ya when I see ya.” Sans answers.

Frisk grabs their bag, then walks over to the skelebros’ front door as Chara drifts over to it. Frisk goes straight out the door, whereas Chara cracks a smile and waves to Sans just before doing the same. Sans, believing he could do some good, decides to go off to Grillby’s to see this week’s talk of the town, warping there in an instant.

Sans finds himself next to the east wall of Grillby’s, and after regaining his sense of direction, he shuffles off to Grillby’s front door. He enters, and notices the barren nature of the place right now, then sees Grillby, who’s cleaning the floor.

Grillby notices Sans. “Welcome, Sans. You are up early. Were you woken up by the disturbance last night?”

“Disturbance? What do ya mean?” Sans says.

“It seemed like a battle of some sort, but it was happening close to Waterfall.”

Sans, confused, asks “Did anyone else hear it?”

Grillby is about to answer when someone comes through the door.

Doggo enters, nearly bumping into Sans. “Grillbs! Ya heard that battle last night?!”

“Indeed I have, Doggo. Did anything come of it?”

“Well, ya see, us guards were about to engage, but no one sounded the alarm! Someone oughta’ have seen that, so why didn’t nobody sound the alarm?! I got barely any sleep ‘cuz of that!”

Sans quickly realizes what battle Doggo is referring to, but isn’t quite sure if he should bring it up.

Doggo sniffs the air. “Hmm? Oh, hello Sans! Didja see any of what happened there?”

Sans nervously shrugs. “Not that I know of.”

“I reckon that the brawl took place near your house based on the volume. I guess you’re just a heavy sleeper…”

“Heh heh, of course…” Sans says as he eyes the door. “Anyways, Gotta go! I got posts to man.”

Grillby waves at Sans as he starts to leave. “Okay Sans. Have a great day!”

Sans fully walks out of Grillby’s, then warps to his first post in Waterfall.

Frisk and Chara have just made it into Waterfall, and they both don’t quite notice Sans appearing in his post as Monster Kid comes from the same direction that they just did.

“Yo yo! You two are kids, right?”

Frisk and Chara look at Monster Kid, Frisk with a raised eyebrow, and Chara with a more neutral expression.

Chara pipes up with “Yeah, how could you tell?”

“Well, you both have striped shirts! All us kids have them!”

Frisk, surprised Monster Kid hasn’t commented on their stature, which Frisk deemed as important to the conversation, just stays quiet as the talk continues.

“Indeed. Are you going to see Undyne?” Chara asks.

Monster Kid’s eyes shine as their mind realizes what this ghost kid has said. “Oh my gosh, are you going off to see her too?! That’s so cool!”

Frisk, annoyed by what they perceive as wasted time, starts to walk off. Chara takes notice, but decides to keep talking with Monster Kid.

“Yeah! I’m…” Chara’s thinking stumbles for a moment. They don’t know what to say now that they will most likely be recognized.

“You’re going to see her wreck some bad guys?” Monster Kid replies.

“I mean… Probably!” Chara replies, relieved Monster Kid hasn’t recognized them.

Frisk then stops just before the start of the boulder waterfall, and looks back at Chara, attempting to urge them onward. Sans, who has been quietly sitting in his post, notices Chara’s gaze drifting to him.

“Huh? What’s up kiddo?” Sans says as he notices Chara’s conflicted expression.

Monster Kid notices Sans’s remark and turns in the skeleton’s direction as Chara answers “Frisk wants me to go on, but Monster Kid wants to keep talking…”

“Huh?” Monster Kid utters, clearly confused. “If you want to keep talking, I can come with ya, can’t I?”

It takes a moment, but Chara’s mind clicks with the idea. “I mean, sure! Come along!”

Monster Kid beams at the invitation. They add an amused vocalization just before saying “Don’t tell my parents!” as they dash past Chara in Frisk’s direction.

Sans watches the start of Monster Kid’s dash before looking back to Chara and saying “Have fun kiddos, I’ll be hangin’ out back.”

Chara smiles, then waves goodbye to Sans as they drift off toward Frisk and Monster Kid. Frisk, having barely heard the conversation, watches Monster Kid’s approach with a raised eyebrow.

Monster Kid excitedly hops in place in front of Frisk as they say “I’m coming with you to see Undyne!” Monster Kid stops as they add “You cool with that?”

Frisk, in their rapidly deteriorating patience, sighs as Chara arrives next to Monster Kid. “Sure. Just don’t cause trouble.”

Chara raises an eyebrow as Frisk turns and begins to wade through the barrage of boulders coming from the constant stream of water. Monster Kid, for their part, smiles and starts doing the same. Chara, ever wary, cautiously follows the two other kids in front of them.

Papyrus wasn’t expecting to show up this quickly to the meeting place. He’s been sitting around for several minutes now, and Undyne isn’t usually late. She must be doing something right now, he thinks, she’ll be here in a moment. From out of the blue, Papyrus hears footsteps, and turns in the direction of the noise. Papyrus sees Frisk, Monster Kid, and Chara approaching from the west and starts to wave to them before coming to a realization. Papyrus quickly comes to a point of What will Undyne think if she sees them?, and then her most likely response clicks in his mind. They’ll be taken away to never be seen again, he concludes. Suddenly, he snaps to attention as Undyne bounds up to the ledge he’s on.

Undyne safely lands, and takes her helmet off. “Hey, skelebro, you all right?” she says in her usual gruff tone.

“Oh!” Papyrus says, surprised. “I-I was waiting for your arrival, Captain.”

“Yeah, I could see that. Sorry about the wait, but I have some info I need to get to you.”

“Oh? What might that be about?” Papyrus warily asks.

“Papyrus, Doctor Alphys’s cameras stopped working for some reason, so as your duty as a sentry dictates, have you seen a human?”

Papyrus’s mind begins to race. As the pause outstays its welcome, everything seems to move in slow motion. Until, after what felt like an eternity, some grass rustles, alerting both Undyne and Papyrus to something else on their periphery.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of ROMEO. Admin Minnie: How many times can we tell you how much we love your Roman, Lia!! Our darling boy has changed so much since you began writing him, and it’s been a wild ride and an honor to see him develop. The crown weighs heavy on those whose hearts still believe in good, and Roman is proof of the burden of carrying that weight. I can’t wait to see how you continue pushing Roman forward and capturing our hearts and imagination with your writing. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Lia

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | 6/10. I’ll actually be more active than usual since my classes are online for the time being, but in general, I’ll be able to pop in a few days a week to do replies.

Timezone | EST.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Romeo— The beautiful boy king Roman Montague.

What drew you to this character? | Mannnnnnn… Honestly, my entire body and soul belongs to Roman. Watching him grow in the RP has really been like watching a child grow up??? (yeah I don’t have kids so idk how accurate this statement is) But I wanted to revist the *cough* second time I revisted this part of the application.

“There’s something I’ve always loved about his inherent goodness, and how much he was loved for it. He was never a false prophet, he didn’t need to formulate a false persona, he was always himself, and that was enough for him to be adored. To Verona, Roman was proof that there still was some goodness in Verona, that there was some hope that the entire city wasn’t completely doomed and corrupt. He was proof that the gods hadn’t completely forsakened them. So what happens when he is no longer being shielded from the destitute of Verona? What happens when it begins to corrupt him, when it permeates through his essence? This is exactly what I intend to explore, especially with it being my second time around, and with Roman being a bit more in touch with his sinful side than I left him. ;-)”

He’s just so much more than people give him credit for? And that leads him to be underestimated, but boy— is ready to prove everyone wrong. >:-)

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

(I’ve kept the majority of the previous plots as they are still plots I hope to see through!)

MOTHER DEAREST | There’s no secret that Alba’s mind is deteriorating, and Damiano and Roman’s dismay, not even the best doctors, flown in from all over the world, are able to find a cure. I’m interested in seeing how this would affect the Montague empire, with Roman’s own mother being one of the biggest risks for the empire. I think this would force him to make some tough decisions, ones not even his father is capable of considering, absolutely blinded by the love he has for his Alba.

KING’S NOT DEAD | Roman’s gradual transition of power from his father is occurring much faster than he’d hoped for. Although he’s learning the ropes of being a boss rapidly, it would be interesting to see how he’d react to suddenly being forced to step in for Damiano unexpectedly. Maybe his father suddenly has to suddenly go away on business, or something involving Alba. Shadowing is one thing, but actually acting as the boss, that’s something else entirely. Will Roman be able to step up to the task? Stay tuned and find out ;) (I figured this is something to further be discussed with the admins, lol.)

NO LOST LOVE | If there was ever a woman suitable to rule alongside Roman when he eventually inherits the throne, it would absolutely be Pandora Phan. She is a soldier at heart— clever, determined, and unrelenting. But despite having this in common— the two couldn’t be any less alike. It would be a union devoid of love, completely for purpose and betterment of the mob. Roman understands this, but his love is something he is unwilling to compromise about. Although he’s agreed to the engagement for now, he’s only been keeping it up for the purpose of appearances, and he’s been secretly plotting about a way to end his engagement. It’s only a matter of time before he lets Pandora in on it.

MOST YOUNG KINGS GET THEIR HEAD CUT OFF | Not to say that we have Dark!Roman now, but… we kind of do? I think what is drawing me to Roman once again is his multifacetedness. He’s gradually become a person that is no longer an extension of his father. His motivations have shifted enitrely— before he wanted to take over the mob to appease his father, but this is no longer the case. He recognizes what he’s capable of now, and honestly seeing my bb believe in himself now is amazing. He’s becoming the leader he was always meant to be.….but he’s far from perfect. He’s growing more comfortable with his own depravity. He used to be disgusted at the idea that he took pleasure in the harm of another, but there’s something oddly satisfying about watching the Capulets fall, and rightfully so at that. It makes him feel good— in a twisted, fucked up way actually. It’s as if he’s purifying the streets of Verona. To him, the destruction of the Capulets is his way of serving the greater good. He also now recognizes the benefit of his charm— more than charming people into bed, that is. When he was younger he was just naturally charming without any other ulterior motives? But now he recognizes the advantage it gives him. The adoration that it emits from the people of Verona. They worship him for it. And Roman likes to be worshipped. I think this is a dangerous line for Roman to be crossing… and I am excited to explore this further.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? |  Yeah kill him with fire honestly

IN DEPTH

SAMPLE:

SIDENOTE: So, I wanted to revisit Roman’s first heartbreak as a way to show his growth. This is still under construction honestly (as I would like to develop in further for in character purposes), but for now… here you go! I was hoping to show a shift in dominance??? Damiano’s voice is the dominant voice from the beginning, but in the second para, it shows how much he’s grown into himself by how he stands up to his father and by his taking control of this part of the narrative. :)) I’ve been Roman for so long good lord, so I felt it was only right to give you guys something fresh to show just how much he’s grown over time! Sorry this is long as fuck omg forgive me.

VERONA, 2012

He heard him before he saw him.

It had been Damiano’s idea to have Rafaella write the letter. In reality, Alba wanted to do far worse, but with time, he’d been able to talk her down. It was he who realized Rafaella had been playing him, something the mafioso suspected from the start— but Alba’s insistence that Damiano’s interference would only cause Roman to despise him—beyond repair that is, as he’d already been aware of his son’s distaste for him—led him to sit back and allow everything to play out.

You have to allow him to make his own mistakes, amore mio. We mustn’t interfere until it goes too far— until we suspect he’s putting the mob at risk.

It wasn’t long before the information got back to him— information that could only have been acquired from the loose, fickle lips of his heir. Rafaella had become untouchable and she’d known it. Allowing her back into society, with all the information she’d managed to extract from his gullible son had been risky— but having her blood on his hands would be even riskier. Roman would already despise him for her exile, but her demise? That wasn’t something he was confident his son would bounce back from. The mob was no longer the place for his delicate heart. The loving bubble in which his mother had carefully surrounded him in would no longer do. It was now Damiano’s responsibility to prepare him for his destiny— and he would do so on his own terms.

He recognized the sounds that could only be likened to a wounded animal— the quieted, choked back sobs that Roman so desperately attempted to disguise. Damiano sighed, a mixture of pity and disgrace surging through him. The letter, to put it plainly, wasn’t cutting it. He needed the truth. It would be the only way for him to learn.

Damiano pushed the slightly ajar door open, before taking the seat across from Roman’s bed. He did not acknowledge him, but he attempted to quiet his cries even more. Neither of them said anything for several moments.

“There’s more to it— isn’t there?” Roman began softly, his hands still firmly gripping the dampened letter. “I know it was your decision to make her leave, but I also know there’s more to it.”

Damiano placed his elbow on his thigh, cradling his head carefully in his hand.

“It’s only fair that I give the girl the credit that she’s owed. I wish I could say that this was wholly of my own volition, but unfortunately, there’s far more to the story. Far more than I wish.”

Roman’s head turns up slightly. It is not anger that contorts his father’s face, but disappointment. “C-Credit? For what?”

“She was playing you, figlio. And you made it so easy for her. But I recognized that weakness within you long before she did. You were raised that way, after all. But it will be this way no longer. I can no longer do you a disservice by allowing you to be weak. Naive. Gullible. Because if I do?” Roman recoils as if he’d been struck with every name that falls from his father’s lips. “Then another Rafaella will come around, chew you up, and spit you out effortlessly just as she did.”

“No… Rafaella wouldn’t…. would she?” His eyes searched his father’s for sincerity. Possibly for comfort, he would not receive. It was comfort he’d never received from Damiano, but he still sought it out anyway. Pathetic. Even after everything, he still could not fathom that her love wasn’t true.

“She would, Roman! And you know why? Because the entire purpose of her involvement with you was to undermine you. To undermine our family. She didn’t love you and you need to recognize this. You need to be able to recognize the weakness within yourself, to prevent such ridiculousness from occurring again. You made it so easy for her. Do you know what you do the next time you feel inclined to confide in someone you love?” He paused for a moment, knowing good and well Roman didn’t know the answer to that. “You don’t. Not people outside of the family, at least. People like Rafaella— the recognize what you have. You’ll come to learn that this life— the life of a princeling is a gift and a curse. You’ve never needed to want anything, but everyone will want what you have. And they’ll do anything to get it. When you lay with rats, Roman, you realize that every inch of their being is committed to not appearing like one. But a rat is still a rat. And you gave the rat everything it wanted with minimal effort on its part. And my biggest regret is I allowed it all to happen. I allowed you to be stupid— to be foolish, to believe that what the two of you had, that superficial—” He could not even bring himself to say the word love, not after knowing what true love was. As if Roman and Rafaella’s dalliances were a disgrace to the word. “Do not embarrass yourself like this again. If you are going to be a fit leader, then you can’t continue being somebody people recognize as vulnerable. They’ll never respect you.” His only regret was not turning Rafaella into a weapon— such wasted potential on the slimy Capulets. But even Damiano was not convinced his efforts would work on a pest so deeply committed to being a pest. She’d been better off with Cosimo and his deplorable ways.

“I don’t respect you. You make it so hard to do so when you… ” he bites back his disgust, but he recognizes his efforts are working. The gradual chipping away of Roman’s soft exterior. He would shed his skin in favor of an armor far thicker. “But nevermind that. Your official training begins tomorrow at sunset. We’ll be interrogating a suspected informant. Be prepared for things to get messy. Don’t embarrass me either.” Damiano stands up swiftly, no longer able to stand the sight of his son.

“Papa?” Roman utters quietly before Damiano has completely exited the room. “Would you not allow me comfort? Not even this once?”

“Comfort doesn’t win wars. Neither does compassion. I won’t do you the disservice of believing it will get you anywhere in this city. Not in this life it won’t. Do you know where comfort and compassion got you, Roman? Mourning the likes of your rat lover. A person who probably hasn’t even given you a second thought. And you really think that I came here to comfort you? Don’t be inane. I came to give you a wake-up call. You’ll probably hate me for it in the long run, and guess what? I’ve accepted that. You’ll be a better man because of it. A stronger one. And that what matters. You’ll soon realize that you can have practically any woman or man you’ve ever wanted— but never allow them to make you weak. Never allow them to steal your honor. You’re a Montague. It’s time to start acting like one.”

VERONA, 2019

He heard him before he saw him. The hurried footsteps. His father was late.

Roman watched as the minute hand abandoned it’s partner, opting instead to move forward, now noticeable enough that his father was obviously late. Instead of quickening to anger, he focused his attentions on the paper lantern on his desk, attempting to funnel his emotions inside of it. It’d been easy enough in that current moment, but would it when it actually counted for something?

The door to his office opened and closed swiftly, but even as his father settled himself into the seat across from him, his eyes still remained on the paper lantern.

“Roman,” Damiano stated in a low, habitual growl.

“Father. You’re late,” Roman says plainly, something that takes Damiano off guard, mocking laughter vibrating his large frame. There was an energy radiating off of Roman that had not been there years prior. Confidence. He was not asking for respect, but commanding it. Damiano recognized that there was little option for him in the matter. Had he been…? Had that time finally—

“I’m serious.” He momentarily tears his gaze away from the lantern in order to meet his father’s. “I expect the same standard of professionalism you’ve always held me to. If I am to take over the mob one day— I expect that same level of respect.”

This response is enough to quiet the mob boss— maybe more so out of shock then the respect he deeply desired, but it was a start. “I have several issues that I hoped to address with you today.”

There was a fierceness to his silence— one that subdued any ridicule, any possible patronization emitting from his father. He watched as his father’s eyes searched his stoic expression, waiting for the exact moment in which he would realize. He’d suspected it, but acceptance would take much more effort on both their parts. Roman no longer feared him. He had cursed the invisible hand that guided him. bit it, fought it, bloodied it, rebuked it. The heir refused submission— he refused to be a vessel for his father to enact his torment. He wholly accepted his destiny, no longer seeing any use in running from it— but the power he now recognized was entirely his own. Damiano had no choice but to listen. And this had been everything that he’d ever wanted. Everything he’d ever hoped for. A son who refused to take a shit, even from his own father. He had to ensure that it was not good to be true. That Roman was not merely enacting the facade of a leader.

He nodded, waiting for his son to continue.

“As of recent, there are a few concerns I’d like to address regarding the mob’s administration,” Roman began cooly, eyes still searching the paper lantern. “Long story short— you’ve lost your touch. I don’t think your pride would ever allow you to admit that to yourself, but everyone can see it. The world can see it. I know how much you care about the reputation of the mob— which is why I’m offering you an easy way out.”

Roman could see the tinges of anger permeate through his father’s being, but it meant nothing to the man who did not fear him. Not a boy, not a princeling, but a conqueror. Hearing that you’ve lost your touch is never easy, Damiano knew better than most that he was getting old. He knew the time to usher in a new regime was rapidly approaching. But he also knew that Roman could not be asked to take the throne. He had to do so of his own volition. He had to command the throne. Demand that what was rightfully his be handed to him.

“The easy way out would be you gradually transferring your duties as mob boss to me. You’ll tell everyone that in your old age, you think its best for you to spend time with your sickly wife. That it is time to usher in a new era. You’ll tell them that your mind isn’t what it used to be, that dealing with your wife’s debilitating disease has driven you to irrationality.”

In all 27 years of his life, Roman had never driven his father to the point of stupefaction. Confidence surged in every word he spoke. But he could not lose momentum. “The difficult way out is you’ll be forced out. I mean, technically, the first option doesn’t leave you much of a choice either, but at least in that instance, your exit will be effortless on your end. I currently have a board of advisors within the ranks. I won’t reveal their names quite yet, though several of them will be fairly obvious. They wholly support my transition to the throne.”

Goade him. Test the thickness of the armor; ensure that it is authentic. Better you than anyone else. “You can’t seriously believe that you’re—”

“No!” Roman begins through snarled teeth. “You don’t get to do this to me anymore. The gaslighting, the berating— you can entirely fuck off with all that, dad. I didn’t call you into my office for you to listen to yourself talk. You’re going to listen to me. I won’t let you destroy everything we worked for. I won’t let you destroy me. Not anymore.”  What was it that swelled in Damiano’s chest? Had it been… pride, perhaps?

“I’m ready. In fact, I’ve always been ready, father. I just was never what you wanted me to be. And I’ll never be who you want me to be. I’ll never be you and I’ll be a better man for it. A better leader for it.”

Damiano looks at Roman challengingly— expecting him to back down, to recoil as he always has— but Roman does not flinch. This was not the same boy who once mourned his lost love. Maybe Roman liked to believe so, but Damiano knew his son far better than that. He was different, maybe not in the way that he’d raised him to be—but he’d been different. He had not molded himself to be fit for the throne but instead shaped it into something that would be fit for him. Damiano’s test had been nearly complete. “You expect to lead a mob? Do you truly think you can garner the respect that I have?”

“And that’s the difference between you and I. Me— I never respected you. You convinced me that was what respect was, but that isn’t respect. That is fear. Do you truly think this city respects you? They’re terrified of you! But me? I don’t have to scare people into following me. They follow me out of choice— not because they believe it to be the only option. So let’s not make this any harder than it has to be, dad. It’s over. You’re over. What good have you or Cosimo brought to Verona from this stupid fucking war? Do either of you realize how ridiculous this all is? People are dying for your petty fucking war, and you don’t even care!”

I came to give you a wake-up call. You’ll probably hate me for it in the long run, and guess what? I’ve accepted that. You’ll be a better man because of it. A stronger one. And that’s what matters.

The authoritative air that seems to shimmer around Roman— it was real. Roman was not performing heir as he once had. This was real and even Damiano could now recognize it. He’d underestimated his son, a fault within himself that he was able to recognize. Maybe it’d been a result of his pride. Maybe he had lost sight of things. Maybe he and Cosimo had truly resorted to a petty pissing match. But nevermind that now.

He leaned back in his chair leisurely, hands coming together in a slow, dramatic clap. “I’m impressed, son. Truly. This backbone— where is it coming from?”

“I know you would like to think it’s from you,” Roman begins, laughing almost mockingly. “I know that you’re apart of me. I’m your blood after all. I tried to run from it— fearing that I would become you and lose every other part of myself. I thought becoming you was the only way that I would be able to rule, and that scared the shit out of me. But then I realized something— you have no true power. You only have as much power as everyone believes you to have. Without them— your power means nothing. So if you would like that illusion to be kept for the remainder of your days— then I wouldn’t cross me. You’re in the way of what I want, and if forcing you out is what it takes— then so be it.”  

It had been this way for eons. Just as Kronos had overthrown his own father, Zeus had overthrown him. It had only been a matter of time. Even the gods got old and lost their touch. Even Damiano’s own father, who’d barely possessed such likeness in the first place. It would happen to Roman with his future child eventually— maybe not quite on the same terms, but it would happen with time.

“This is your final offer, father. I truly wanted to make this as easy possible for you, even if you don’t deserve it. After everything you’ve done— you deserve far less courtesy than this. So let’s not make this difficult for either of us. You knew this day would come. You just never knew when. Let my board of advisors and I proceed as planned, and your retirement will be a happy and prosperous one.” He smiles that 1000 watt smile— the one that will bring Verona to its knees. The smile that would end the war, that would finally usher in a new era. That smile had been the greatest weapon Damiano could’ve ever hoped for— how was he just now realizing this? That was the advantage Roman had and the one Damiano possessed no longer.  That tantalizing charisma, and a clean canvas of a mind.

His work here had been done. Damiano had been convinced. Roman’s belief in himself had been genuine. He felt warmth— something he rarely felt at this point in his life, but it felt good. He was proud of his son. Of the leader, he’d become. But compassion had never been his way. Hw fumbled for the right words to say, something to encapture the depth of the pride he felt for his son—

“You don’t have to say it. I know you’re proud of me. I know that for whatever stupid reason you can’t admit that to—”

“No, Roman. You and your mother have shown me that it isn’t always a weakness that comes from compassion, but vice versa. Sometimes it is your own weakness that prevents you from showing compassion. A valuable lesson I needed to learn— even if it took more than half a century. Verona will be a better place because of you.”

He could see the emotion rousing in his son, the wetness settling in his eyes, and gods he had no desire to wait around while Roman ruined the moment.

Damiano began his exit in a single, furious motion.

“Thank you,” Roman manages, stopping him in his tracks. Damiano offers him a single nod before shuffling out of the office.

And for the first time in 27 years, Roman Montague had the last word.

EXTRAS:

SIDENOTE: This was actually the first part of the long ass sample I made, but I realized it had LITERALLY 0 to do with Roman??? Like he wasn’t even born let alone a thought? But it did help me find my daddy Dami and Mama Alba voice so it was fun afjwaeifj here you go!

VERONA, 1989

He heard her before he saw her.

There was something utterly engrossing about her voice, with the smokey richness only comparable to his favorite bourbon. But it was the huskiness that sold him— her passion unwavering even as her voice threatened to fail her, presumably from her repeated shouts.

Damiano stopped briskly in his path. He was late, but his curiosity bested him.

She was ferocious in every aspect— from the way her curls pooled heedlessly around her face, to her slender brows furrowed in determination. The dripping sweat only enhanced the bronze glow of her skin. Her willowy frame had been draped in a loosely fitted, Angela Davis t-shirt and dark bell-bottom jeans. She was chained to a towering tree, repeating over and over again,

Morte per gentrificazione!

Death to gentrification.

It was then he noticed everything else around them, the outside world previously silenced at the sight of her. Several police vehicles littered the surrounding street, as well as several aggravated men in suits discussing something fervently with a construction worker. He did not care to hear the circumstances of the situation from them, finding himself instantly pulled in the direction of the woman, disregarding the announcement made by several people that this was indeed private property he was entering. Even if he hadn’t been so focused on her— he couldn’t have cared less. He stopped at what he thought was a respectful distance, close enough to hold a conversation, but hopefully not close enough to impede her personal space. His mouth opened in preparation to speak, but the stranger managed to beat him to the punch—

“You can tell your bosses to stop sending stuffy fucking corporate lawyers my way. I gave them my terms already, and they’re non-negotiable.”

He blinked stupidly, not knowing how to react to her mistaking him for a stuffy, fucking corporate lawyer.

“I— was actually hoping to gain more clarity on the circumstances of your protest. I just moved to this part of town, and I’m not too familiar with the area.”

Her facial expression softened slightly, her eyes meeting his own with a raised brow. “Quite the nosey newcomer I see,” she begins challengingly yet playfully. “But this, mio amico, is the location of homeless shelter and soup kitchen. These bastardi di maiale—” she shouts in their direction as she states this, “—want to tear it down to build luxury apartments.”

This had evidently been enough to draw the attention of one of the bastardi di maiale, as he began his commute from the other bastardi, his face a sickly shade of salmon.

“This is my property. What don’t you get?! I have a right to do with it as I please. Now, if you don’t plan on getting off my property, I’ll have you forcibly removed, cang—”

All it took was Damiano’s hand positioned in front of his face to disrupt his throaty rant.

“I would stop while I was ahead if I were you,” he offered to the significantly shorter man. “You wouldn’t want to say anything you’d later regret.”

Gargles of protest exited his throat as he attempted to scramble for a retort. “Excuse me? How dare—”

“You’re going to sell me this property and go about your day. Understood?” Damiano says, lowering his hand. The woman watches him curiously, but his eyes remain on the bastardo.

“Now why the hell would I do that? This property is a gold mine! I’ll make mi—”

“Because your property won’t be worth merda once I’m finished with it. Build your luxury apartments. Fine. You will be reminded of my wrath each and every day. Your tenants will gradually forget what peace ever felt like. I’ll buy your property for whatever you paid for it plus 5%. And the more you run that bastardo mouth of yours, the less generous I feel, and the lower the offer will become. Do I make myself clear?”

The coloration of his skin reddens— a mixture of rage, embarrassment, and most likely fear. He did not truly need to build the apartments there, he supposed, and for some reason— his eyes met Damiano’s momentarily before returning to the ground— this man was someone he did not desire to have on his bad side. Maybe building luxury apartments on the property of a homeless shelter hadn’t been good—

“Sir? Have you considered my terms?” Damiano says smoothly, but there is no tolerance in his tone.

“I— accept your terms. We can draw up the paperwork immediately. I-It will be a pleasure doing business with you, signore—”

“Montague. Damiano Montague.”

The man’s eyes widened; he’d heard that name on some occasions, but never had the opportunity to meet the man in person. He’d been the man taking Verona by storm, with such a tightly held grasp that he did not need a face to accomplish such feats. He simply needed a name, and that was enough to bring the despondent city to its knees.

“Si-Signore Montague, it’s a p-pleasure—”

Damiano’s hand returned to its former place, heading the man’s blubberings once more. “Now, I would like to return to the conversation I was having with my companion before we were rudely interrupted by your ramblings. For the moment being, I’d like you out of my sight.”

His lip trembled but he did not protest— returning to the group of now wide-eyed bastardi di maiale. He returns his attentions to the strange woman— her arms now crossed, studying him peculiarly, attempting to figure out what he was after.

“Now that he’s taken care of—” he began with a sigh of relief. “Tell me more about this building. I hope to restore it to its former glory. In fact, I hope to make it even grander than before; in order to reach even more people than the original owners could’ve ever imagined possible. With your help, if you’d be willing, that is.”

She undid the chain, before sizing Damiano up, something not difficult for her to do as she could not have been more than two inches shorter than him. He couldn’t blame her for being wary of his intentions. This had all occurred in a span of fewer than fifteen minutes, after all. “Why would you need my help? You seem to have things pretty well handled.”

“This place means something to you. It means something to you to the point where you were willing to chain yourself to a tree and face off with these wealthy bastardi di maiale. You didn’t care about the consequences you might possibly face. The people are what was most important. They mean something to you, and quite frankly, something tells me you’d do a much better job of running it than I.”

She ponders his proposition silently for a few moments, before offering him her hand to shake. “Sounds like we have a deal. Alba Fascelli.” He shook her hand, before carefully bringing it to his lips, silently requesting her permission, only proceeding when she nodded. “I hope you know it’ll take more than a grand gesture to win me over, Dami. You haven’t even asked me out on a date yet.”

Damiano smiled warmly, as the familiarity the nickname roused within him made him feel as if he’d known her for years. “Trust me— I knew from the moment I walked over here that it would take far more than this to win you over. But I’ve never been one to step down from a challenge.”

She allowed her hand to linger in his for a moment longer, before crossing in front of him and releasing it. “0458446149. I’ll let you know when I’m available. Do forward more details about To Tame a Soup at your earliest convenience.”

He waved stiffly, still slightly stunned over her presence. “Addio, Alba.”

Alba. The name whose meaning he would come to understand later on in life. Sunrise. It would take meeting Alba for Damiano to realize that in his 27 years of life, the sun had not truly risen— not until meeting her, that is.

here’s his inspo tag!

there’s probably hella typos pls forgive me and tumblr deleted all my bold stuff and i’m sickkkkk but i’m too tired to fix it :/

[bixshits]

Lost Odyssey - A Thousand Years of Dreams - Story Ten Transcript

Don't Forget Me Now, You Hear?

“Brother dear!”

The cry comes from someone behind as he wades through the post town's crowds. At first Kaim does not realize that the person is addressing him, and he walks on in search of lodging for the night.

But the cry comes again, all but clinging to him, “Brother, dear! Big Brother!”

This is puzzling.

He last visited the town eighty years ago. There can't be anyone here who knows him.

“Wait, Big Brother! Don't go!”

His puzzlement begins to take on an eerie edge, for the voice addressing him as “Big Brother” can only belong to an old woman.

Without letting his guard down, he turns around slowly.

Just as he thought—it is an old woman.

Dressed in the clothes of a young girl, the tiny old woman is looking straight at Kaim with a bright smile on her face.

“I think you may have the wrong person,” he says, allowing his discomfort to show.

“No I don't,” She says with a big shake of the head and an expanding smile. “You're Big Brother Kaim!”

“What…?”

“What's wrong, Kaim, did you forget me?”

“Uh… well… I mean…”

He can't place her. Even if he were to succeed in doing so, he knows he has no acquaintances in this town. He wonders . . . could this be a chance re-encounter with someone he once met on the road? But no, he is sure he doesn't recognize her, and strangest of all, why would this woman who looks old enough to be his grandmother address him as “Big Brother”?

“Don't pretend you don't know who I am Kaim! You're so mean!”

She yells at him loudly enough that people in the crowd stop and stare at them.

It is not just the fact that she is shouting, of course, People always have to shout to be heard in these crowded streets. That alone would not attract attention. The old woman's voice is different from a normal adult yell. It is like the innocent, unrestrained cry of a little girl who throws her whole body into her scream.

People turn shocked expressions on the old woman and quickly avert their eyes.

Their dismay is understandable. The old woman has her stark white hair up tied up with a colourful ribbon, and her dress has the same floral pattern and floppy sleeves as a little girl's.

Many of the passerby look at the old woman with a mix of sympathy and pity on their faces.

Gradually, Kaim begins to comprehend the situation. This old woman has simply lived too long. This is why the past, locked away in her memory, has become realer to her then the reality before her eyes.

A middle-aged passerby tugs on Kaim's elbow.

“If I were you I would just walk away. Don't get involved with her. She'll be nothing but trouble.”

“It's true.” says the wife by his side, nodding. You're a stranger here, so you don't know, but this old woman is senile. You can ignore her. She'll forget everything in five minutes.”

They may be right, but the fact remains is this old woman knows Kaim's name.

In the little girl part of her mind, she thinks of Kaim as her “Big Brother.”

He tries probing his distant memories.

He spent no more than a few days here so long ago. He got to know very few people, and there can't be any of those left who still remember him.

When Kaim goes on standing before the old woman, the nosy middle age couple becomes indignant. “You try to be helpful and what does it get you?” snorts the husband.

“Let them work it out themselves.” adds the wife. “Let's just go.” Which they proceed to do.

Winding up the voice for maximum shrillness, the old woman calls out to them as they walk off in a huff. “Don't forget me now, you hear?”

In that instant, Kaim's memory makes the connection.

The old woman greets his look of recognition with an expression of joy.

“Do you remember me now?” she cries. “I'm Shushu. It's me—Shushu!”

He does remember her. A little girl he met in this town eighty years ago.

Perhaps five or six years old at the time, she was a precocious little thing whose lack of shyness with strangers came from her being the daughter of the innkeeper.

Somewhere along the way, she had probably picked up a phrase she heard someone using and so whenever a guest would depart after a number of days at the inn, instead of the standard “Goodbye” or “Thank you” she would see the person off with a smile and a cheery “Don't forget me now, you hear?”

Only now is he suddenly able to see the girl beneath the wrinkles, Kaim must avert his gaze from the old woman's face.

“What's wrong Big brother?”

He cannot bring himself to look directly at Shushu's vacant stare.

Eighty year have gone by! What can they talk about when a man who never ages meets a little girl from the distant past who has aged too much?

“Let me through here, please. Sorry, let me through here, please.”

Forcing his way through the crowd, a young man rushes up to where Shushu and Kaim are standing. “Great-grandmother! How often do I have to ask you not to go out without telling me?”

After scolding the old woman, he turns to Kaim with an apologetic bow

“I'm terribly sorry if she's been a bother to you. She's old and getting senile. I hope you can forgive her.”

Shushu herself, however, angrily purses her lips and demands to know, “What are you talking about? I'm just playing with Big Brother Kaim, What's wrong with that?

She peers at the young man and asks, “Who are you?”

The young man turns a sad gaze on Kaim and begins to apologize again.

With a pained smile, Kaim stops him.

Kaim knows that, at times, it can be sadder and more heartbreaking for a life to be prolonged than for it to be cut short. Sad and heartbreaking through a life may be, however, no one has the right to trample on it.

“She just can't seem to get it through her head she's old.” Even if I hold a mirror up to her she asks, “Who's that old lady?” The young man, whose name is Khasche, further explains the situation to Kaim, “she might forget that she ate breakfast, but her memories from childhood can be clear as a bell.”

Kaim nods in silent understanding.

Khasche and Kaim sit on a bench in the town plaza, watching Shushu pick flowers.

She is apparently making a floral wreath for her long-lost “Big Brother.”

“But really sir, do you have time for this? Weren't you in a hurry to get somewhere? ”

“No, I'm fine, don't worry.”

“Thanks very much.”

He smiles for the first time and says, “I haven't seen her this happy in ages.”

The young man seems convinced that his great-grandmother has encountered in Kaim a person who resembles someone she knew as a child. Kaim allows him this. He knows that Khasche cannot, and need not, imagine the existence of a person who never ages.

“Her health has really deteriorated lately. Whenever she runs a fever, we wonder if this is going to be the end for her and we prepare for the worst. But then she springs right back. Sometimes we joke that her mind is so far gone, she's forgotten to die.”

Kaim sees the young man in profile, Khasche has a gentle smile on his face as he speaks of his great-grandmother. No doubt, when he was little, she used to hold him and play with him. Grown up now, Khasche watches over his Great-grandmother like a parent watching his own child.

He calls out to her, “That's nice, Great-Grandmother. I haven't seen you weave flowers together like that for a long time!”

Squatting in the grass with a fistful of flowers, Shushu answers, “That's not true. I made a wreath for him yesterday!”

Then she says to Kaim, “isn't that right, Big Brother? You wore it in your hair for me didn't you?”

Kaim cups his hands around his mouth and calls back to her, “I certainly did, it smelt so nice!”

Shushu's face became as mass of joyful wrinkles. Overcome with emotion, Khasche bows his head.

Kaim asks Khasche, “are you the one who takes care of her?”

“Uh-huh. Me and my wife Cynthia.”

“How about your parents? Or even your grandparents? Are they still living?”

Khasche shrugs and says, “I'm the only other member of my family left alive.”

His grandparents both died in an epidemic twenty years ago.

His father lost his life in the war that enveloped this area ten years ago.

His mother, Shushu's granddaughter, aged more rapidly than her own mother, and the lamp of her life was snuffled out five years ago.

“So my great-grandmother has had to keep holding funeral over the years-for her Children and grandchildren, Before we even noticed, she had become the oldest person in town. It must be lonely living that way…”

“I'm sure.” answers Kaim.

“It might even be a kindness of the gods to let people fade out of mentally when they've lived too long. At least that's how I've come to see it lately. You would think she would feel lonely to be left behind that way, but she's not lonely at all. To live long means you have a lot of memories. Maybe it's not such a bad thing to live in the world of you memories during the last days for your life.”

Shushu stands up, her arms filled with flowers.

“Big Brother Kaim! I'm going to make a floral wreath for you right now! And if I have any flowers left over, I'll make one for this other person too.”

Kaim and Khasche look at each other with bewildered smiles.

Why are you smiling like that? Shushu asks. “Are you two friends now?”

She opens her wrinkle-ringed eyes wide in surprise and gives the two men a joyful smile, and collapses into the grass.

Khasche starts to run for a doctor but Kaim grabs his arm and holds him back, saying, “You'd better stay with her.”

Ironically, Kaim, who can never truly know what it feels like to age, has been present, for that very reason, at countless deaths over the years.

His experience tells him that Shushu will not recover this time.

Shushu is lying on her back where she has fallen, her armload of flowers now spread over her chest.

Her face wear's a smile.

“Wait just a minute, Big Brother Kaim. I'll make your wreath for you right away. . .”

Her mind is still lingering among her memories of the past.

Will she stay like this to the very end?

“Keep fighting Great-Grandmother! Don't let go!”

Khasche clings to her hand, tearfully shouting encouragement, but she may not even realize that this is her own great-grandson.

“It's me, Great-grandmother, it's me, Khasche! You haven't forgotten me, have you? I bathed you last night, you knew who I was then, didn't you?”

Khasche appeals to her with all his might.

But Shushu, a girlish smile on her lips, is departing for that distance world.

I'm going to be a father soon, Great-grandmother! Remember? I told you last night. Cynthia has a baby inside. It's going to make you a Great-great-grandmother! Our Family is going to grow—another person with your flesh and blood.”

Still smiling, Shushu grasps one of the flowers on her chest in her trembling fingers.

She thrusts it towards Khasche and in a voice no more than a whisper, she says, “Don't forget me now, you hear?”

Khasche doesn't understand.

Indeed how could her know the little phrase she always used to speak Long before he was born?

Kaim puts his arm around Khasche's shoulder and says “Answer her.”

“I know what you mean Great-grandmother. I won't forget you. I will absolutely never forget you. How could I forget my own Great grandmother?”

“Don't forget me now, you hear?”

“I won't forget you, Great-grandmother. Believe me. I'll always remember you.”

“Don't forget me now, you hear?”

Shushu closes her eyes and lays her hand on the flowers on her chest as if groping there for something. She seems to be trying to open the door where the memories are sealed.

A soft breeze moves over her.

The flowers adorning her chest dance in the wind along with the memories. Surely among those memories is the Kaim of eighty years ago.

Kaim snatches at one of the petals dancing in the wind, enclosing it in the palm of his hand.

Shushu will never open her eyes again.

She has left on a journey to a world where there is no past or present.

The only ones she has left behind are Kaim, who will go on living forever, and Khasche, who is about to welcome a new life into the world.

Clinging to her corpse, Khasche raises his tear stained face to look at Kaim.

“Thank you so much.” He says to Kaim the traveler. “Thanks to you, my Great-grandmother was so happy to be picking flowers at the very end.

“No. It wasn't thanks to me,” Kaim says.

He closes his fist on the petal in his hand and says to Khasche. “I'm sure if she had made a wreath, she would have given it to your sweet new baby.”

Khasche shyly cocks his head and mutters, “I hope you're right.” But then smiling through his tears, he declares. “I'm sure you are.”

“About that promise you made to her—be good and don't forget her.”

“No, of course not.”

“People go on living as long as they remain in someones memory.” With these words, Kaim begins to walk slowly away. Behind him he hears Shushu's voice.

Don't forget me now, you hear?

It is the voice of the little girl from eighty years ago, ringing ever clear, sweet, and innocent, declaring farewell to the man who will travel life forever.

[showmetruecolors]

Being a nurse during the COVID-19 Era.

I was a nursing student during the Ebola crisis where they taught us how to suit up and doff properly without being contaminated. It so happens that the hospital I was interning in at the time was planned to be the hospital in NY State that would take on the first Ebola case if it were ever to hit our state. They made it clear that if the case were to come to the hospital, the student nurses were to not even be on the same unit, and that they would move us. However, in cases of lack of assistance, they would need us to know how to properly enter and exit the room with the hazmat suit without providing contamination to ourselves and the environment. 

I have also been a nurse the past almost four years during crazy and erratic flu hits. I have seen flu kill the terminally ill and the elderly. I have also seen the flu hit my coworkers pretty bad as a result of working in health care. Working overnights in a section of the emergency room, we always have flu patients and we are always prepared to a certain extent, how it would affect our patient once getting report.

But not with COVID.

As of two Saturdays ago, I am currently a part of one of the designated groups of nurses for COVID-19 for my hospital. I am on the float pool and they started by emptying out one of our main units to reserve them for COVID-19 rule-outs and positive patients. (Obviously the expansion of designated COVID units grew over a week...) There are cameras watching us every time we enter and exit a room and put on and off our PPE gown. With that, staff must sign (pretty much their life away) each time they enter or exit the room, by providing contact info, DOB, who watched us and their info, etc. This includes staff that also enter to pick up the garbage. Everyone in the hospital had to learn the steps of putting on and taking off the protective equipment. Not just nurses and doctors. At this point, it felt all hospitals were ready to respond to this clientele and the caseload.

At first I was so thrilled to be one of the COVID nurses and to be assigned on one of the COVID units. And then, came the first time another nurse and I actually had to gown up. Each time we gown up in the protective equipment, we must have another nurse on the other side of the glass watch us and check off a checklist of things we are doing. The purpose of this is to also catch any contamination to ourselves or the environment quickly. The first situation of us gowning up, I was actually the observer. Gowning up takes some time so after a few minutes of checking off the checkboxes, watching her, and giving her a thumbs up after every step, then comes the part of the eyewear which then caused me to look up at this nurse’s eyes. She had tears filling up her eyes , something I didn't notice while checking her method of donning her equipment, and her hands were shaking as she was placing the eyewear onto her face. She has a young child at home and she used to tell me about how she is also a caretaker for her parents. I wonder if this is what she was thinking of before entering the room. I heard rustling behind me and I turned around. Two evening administrators were there intensely watching from the distance almost unsure about walking near the door where we must stand to observe.

Later that evening when it was around the 3rd time I had to gown up to go to my own patient’s room, I went in the with PCA so he can assist me with closing the back of my gown as well as him getting comfortable coming in and out of the room per protocol. I looked up halfway through our gowning process, to see staff and admin watching us as well. Everyone had a look of fear in their eyes. I turned to look at the PCA who would not make eye contact and always had a strong demeanor when it came to things like codes, rapids, etc. He looked startled and like he didn’t want to talk about anything. At that moment I realized, we actually don’t know anything about what is behind those isolation doors once we enter. All we know is that it is airborne, we have only SOME information about the viral processes and the human body reaction, and that the human race can only receive oxygen in only three different ways before complete intubation... (Breathing on their own, nasal cannula, and Non-rebreather. The other options would cause viral shedding, leading to worsening of the viral spread and even contamination.) We also knew that each time we gowned up and enter the room, we were able to see facts and theories in front of us and assist us in understanding the virus more and how to manage based on other EBP methods from past, and new methods. Which made the situation SO interesting.

On my second shift being one of the COVID nurses, we learned more about the virus. And one thing was confirmed about my previous shift, and it was that the beliefs even among staff/the hospital and community members about what it all is, varied...

We started learning that after a couple of days of confirmed testing, people were coding. There seemed to be a peak time that the virus was causing severe respiratory failure and a systemic failure response and our managers told us that this was an ongoing and similar experience with other hospitals that they have collaborated with when discussing support during emergency responses. Days later, a nationally recognized public health organization actually published a report online that showed the timeline graph of peak levels during viral process and that proved the theory to possibly be correct. After a certain amount of days, almost regardless of intervention, certain people were rapidly deteriorating.

I walked into shift that day briefly assisting my colleagues in a code. Although this person had several cofounding factors that would've made even the basic flu difficult for the person to overcome, it was scary to see. Next thing you know a staff member’s gown had ripped in the process of helping the patient. Some staff were actually nervous for her. She followed proper decontamination protocol but it was still the fear of the unknown that is controlling everyone that is causing complete mayhem and chaos.

It is also the lack of supplies causing unreal scenarios....I took complete pride in the fact that my team would be some of the first COVID nurses , until I realized we didn't even have enough n95 respirators...that we were reusing products...(Which almost puts us at risk for contamination of ourselves and our environment and loved ones) we also don’t have enough face shields or goggles. So we are reusing them every shift. We can blame politicians or our actual health care orgs or whomever you feel is responsible when it came to emergency prepardness and allocation of funds. But all I know is that I am, as well as other staff, are becoming more and more at risk every shift as well as at risk when community members can't follow basic instructions and educate themselves with resources that are actually not factual. Which brings me to my next thanggg - When I see families out in the super market using gloves and masks, I get angry.

1. The masks you see people wearing are not n95 respirators so you will catch corona and even TB regardless. Jokes on you, folks.

2. Gloves? Are you serious? You think that will protect you? Each time you pick up an item wearing gloves and touch your face/fix your hair (which is what I actually saw the other day) you’re not protecting yourself. That glove is now contaminated regardless, and unless you’re bleaching the shit out of the products you are buying before placing them in your vehicle or bag, they are holding onto whatever the environment has, as well. Contaminated or not.

3. I understand the fear of the city/stores closing down so you must stock up on essentials and food. However, you are now defeating the purpose of preventing viral spread and you’re causing large groups in one tight area to take place. (Shoutout and much love to grocery store / restaurant employees, etc.) It’s to the point where I am less of a threat if I walk into a patient’s room with symptoms of COVID and then run over and cough on and hug 100 people, than those who have been at Walmart or the grocery store everyday this week spending a long amount of time getting items. I understand the need to have essentials, and that online services may be more expensive, but at times like these, they may be worth it especially if you or someone you are at home with is compromised in some way. This also, by the way, helps with the job industry including forcing one to have more self-awareness with WIC covered products and can assist in monitoring that they are not taken off of shelves and into carts out of pure human PANIC as opposed to other replacement products.

4. This happening does not give you the excuse to blame a certain group of people. If you do not know what corona is (and by going to CVS the other day to pick up my acid reflux meds and hearing chatter about it at my second job by non-medical personnel , I realize this is the case) then you need to shut the fuck up and not be an inherently racist prick. The end. No excuses.

Do not panic. BUT. Stay home once all your essentials are brought together. I know that during these times, there may be job and financial hardships, loved ones you are concerned about, and some children’s/college students’ education is on the line and being effected as a result (as is mine...), and that there is fear due to the unknown contamination of the virus and due to the different directions in leadership and advices. But please try to stay calm. And stay home. Staying home is the only thing you have control of at this moment, that can eventually help restore everything going on. The more you stay home, the more you’re helping ease the situation/exposures which can eventually lead to the life we were living before where you can work, go to school, etc. And since you will all have time now, educate yourself on the spread of Corona and understand WHAT it even is. One of the leading issues seems to be that no one was properly educated on it, causing the reaction everyone is having which is putting more people in danger and hospitals in complete stress and OVER the capacity to diligently care for patients that have the virus, among with other serious illnesses.

Flatten the mother fucking curve.

Love,

Emily RN

[tanyuu]

end-eavor

Hi! This is my first article-style theory. It’s obviously not like an actual article, you can tell by the deteriorating quality and fact that I used my own headcanons in place of canon information, but I’d just really love to see an article written by a sleep-deprived reporter bashing Endeavor.

 That’s… all this is. It’s just a 7-page rant on why Endeavor is a terrible parent. And then it quickly dissolves into a theory on why Dabi is Todoroki Touya, so… good luck.

 The reporter who writes this (Ella) is me! I’m not actually a reporter or writer at all, but I work around books. So. I’m gonna call bullshit on myself and get INTO THIS!

  YEEHAW!

 Todoroki Enji, also known as Endeavor (#1 in PHR, but #-7,000,000 in our hearts), has at least three children. They are known as Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Fuyumi, and Todoroki Shouto. Shouto has been in the public eye for a while now, especially after he was accepted by recommendation into UA.

Shouto was confirmed to be previously the victim of an act of domestic violence. His well-known facial scar (over his left eye), covers a quarter of his face. The cause was confirmed to be his mother's unstable and rapidly declining mental health.

All three of the Todoroki children released statements in the following years to plead their mother as not guilty (and worthy of single custody.) Endeavor harshly refused these claims, and insisted that their mother had endangered his children. (though he did not call Shouto his child. the term used was 'masterpiece,' which implies... certain things.)

In all fairness, Endeavor's stance on the topic is expected. The safety of your children is important. It's a touchy subject though, so all you need to know is this:

 - Rei Todoroki (ice quirk), mother to the Todoroki children, poured boiling water onto her youngest child (Shouto)'s face.

- The cause was deteriorating mental health, but the cause of said mental state has not been released. Ever.

- Endeavor has potentially harmful opinions regarding his children, as well as near POSSESSIVE qualities with and to his youngest child.

Moving on.

Todoroki Natuso (quirkless), has cut ties with his father, for unknown reasons. Speculators and theorists claim that his father MADE him, as to not interfere with Shouto's "training."

He is now working as a doctor near Shizuoka Prefecture, and has saved many lives. His sister and brother are very proud of him. (and we bet his mother is, too)

Todoroki Fuyumi (sparking ice quirk) works as a preschool teacher. Though Natsuo moved out of Endeavor's "estate" (look up the square footage. we DARE you), Fuyumi has not. According to THIS (link) article, she will not until Shouto has graduated from UA. When prompted, she gave no answer.

Now, you're probably wondering: "Hey, Ella? If there's some kind of scandal, why don't you just go right out and say what you think is going on?"

That's the fun part! I legally CAN'T. Todoroki Enji (Endeavor, your #1 PUBLIC HERO) has ordered that no reporters are allowed to comment on 'how he runs his family.' And honestly, I value my job just a LITTLE too much to run the risk of the Hellflame's wrath.

Onwards, I suppose. And time for some (LEGAL) speculation.

If you recall, I mentioned how there are three confirmed children. That's because (and i did some actual digging here) there are FOUR legitimate Todoroki children.

Does anyone else remember the sports festival 6 years ago? The kid who had a CRAZY blue fire quirk? And then there's the fact that five-ish years ago, all of the footage from the semi-finals was deleted. Almost all of it.

Now, (I say with a grimace, here) I found one photo, and anyone with an eye on the news regarding high-profile villains would recognize THOSE piercings.

Why am I bringing up this blue fire quirk kid, anyway? Blue fire, blue fire, blue fire.

Todoroki Enji, ENDEAVOR. THE NUMBER ONE HERO. Lied about his kids. I'm definitely losing my job now, so... might as well just go with this, I guess. How do I know this?

 We're familiar with Endeavor's ultra-move, the jet-stream style fire blast. He used it in the Hosu attack earlier this year, just before he captured the villain 'Stain.'

 What color is the fire in that crazy powerful attack? B L U E.

Sports Festival mystery kid? Blue fire, spiky RED HAIR, turquoise eyes. It's like... younger, amped-up Endeavor.

 I brought up piercings already, right?

 The boy from the sports festival (let's nickname him v2 for now, short for Version Two of Endeavor. because I would pay SO MUCH to see this kid kick Endeavor's ass. i'll be linking a kickstarter for that later, too) has four piercings on his ears, and a triangle of nose piercings on both sides of his nose.

 Blue fire, spiky hair, turquoise eyes, a FUCK TON of piercings, and just LOOK at this smirk: <IMAGE ATTACHED>.

Now, who does this remind anyone of?

The leader of the Vanguard Action Squad of the infamous League of Villains (LoV). The villain's name is 'Dabi,' which means 'Cremation.' Coincidentally, I looked up what v2's quirk was named. After a HELL of a lot of digging, I found both v2's name AND the name of his quirk.

 Cremation.

And as for the name, well, I'd like Endeavor's official and public reason for keeping his FIRST and OLDEST child out of the public eye.

Todoroki Touya.

What am I implying, here? That one of Endeavor's children became a villain? A high-profile villain, involved with the kidnapping of a minor and attempted murder of at least 19? A villain with a criminal record longer than Shiozaki Ibara’s hair?

I'll provide a list of reasons why I (personally, and definitely not free of bias) think there's way more going on in this picture. Thank you for reading this far, by the way. It really does mean a lot, especially considering that this will likely be the last thing I'll... ever write, at least professionally.

To answer my own question, I'm telling you that Todoroki Touya became the villain 'Dabi.'

Now for the REALLY fun part. Why on Earth would Touya even become a villain? And especially as one of the children of such a well-known (but, frankly, not well-liked) hero?

 I have a short list of reasons why this may have happened.

- Todoroki Enji kicked Touya out (reasons unknown, date unknown, all unconfirmed)

- Touya ran away (reason unconfirmed)

- Pressured by villains (honestly? unlikely)

But, drawing attention to the scar patterns on Dabi (Touya?)'s arms and face. It's a fire burn, but not a REGULAR fire burn. From the looks of it, it wasn’t caused by an external force (you can tell b/c of his fingers). But this implies that Dabi did it HIMSELF, which... is a whole new can of worms.

(I swear all of this is relevant. I'm just... speculating. Diligently.)

In order to do so much self-inflicted damage, you would need a few key things.

1) High pain tolerance. (30% of Dabi's skin is scar tissue. That's... a lot. Have you ever accidentally touched a flame? It hurts, and keeping it there would hurt a lot more. Doing something like that and holding the flame there requires a lot of control.)

2) A high sensitivity to your OWN quirk. Now, quirk biologists have talked about how people usually have a natural immunity to their own quirks, especially emitter-types. But, if Touya THEORETICALLY had a body made for an ICE QUIRK (see where I'm headed?), it would explain why he was so easily burned.

But why would he have such a pain tolerance? And especially... towards burns...?

 Well, I'll let you decide that one for yourself, there. I'm not allowed to talk about that, remember?

GREAT! We've answered some questions! (some meaning, like, two)

Now onto a Fun Part™! (It's not fun. Honestly, writing this makes me feel horrible. The things pro heroes cover up, no kids should EVER go through ANY of what I'm writing about.)

So far, Enji's been in the wrong... probably 80% of the time? Some of it (20%) can be marked down as 'concerned parent,' but the rest... yeah.

Anyway! Let's address a concerning topic. There are a few things I'm going to be talking back and going back to QUITE a bit:

- Shouto's refusal to use his fire in the Sports Festival last year (earlier this year? time is a concept, and i'm not familiar with it)

- The difference in personality with the Todoroki trio. (i'd say quartet, but my boss says i'm not allowed to interview a villain, and also. all of these. are still speculation. please pay me)

- How Endeavor (#1 hero. i keep bringing that up just to reiterate who exactly is the current face of the hero world and WHY THE FUCK IS HE STILL TH-) addresses his children

Where were we again? Let me check.

Oh yeah, before I start yelling about Enji being a piece of shit, I'm going to say a few things about myself. This article is very unorthodox, and I shouldn't... technically do this? BUT I'm already gonna lose my job! So, onwards and upwards, y’all:

- My name is Ella.

- I work for a really well-known (and lovely) publishing company, as a writer and editor.

- I get paid XXXXX a year. Which is okay, and better than some other companies, but I'm still... not getting anything out of this, so you can't say I was paid to write this. If anything, I'm LOSING money by writing this. (but i'm in too deep to stop now, so...)

- My hands hurt a lot from writing this. I've written it all in about an hour, but the research has taken me WEEKS. W E E K S, I TELL YOU-

 Todoroki Shouto (15, Half-Cold Half-Hot emitter quirk, aptly named) is a student at UA. He is in class 1-A, the Hero Course. He's been involved with many mainstream villain attacks, such as the USJ invasion, the Stain + Hosu event, and All Might's last stand.

 Shouto's personality can be seen as cold and standoffish, and the media likes to depict him as an aloof pretty boy. Please keep in mind, he's... been through a lot. And I'm speculating that he's been through more than anyone's actually THOUGHT about before. Kudos to him.

 In the Sports Festival in Shouto's first year, his fight with Midoriya Izuku was ALL OVER THE NEWS. The green haired “no bones about it” kid had gotten Todoroki "I'm not using half of my power" Shouto to use his fire. Nobody knows the exact content of the fight, but it's worth mentioning that Shouto smiled during it. Full-on GRINNED.

(the more i think about that... the sadder it is? kid didn't look like he’d smiled very much. ever, actually. WHY COULD THAT BE-)

 Speculation as to why Shouto didn't actually use his fire during the first events (and according to his classmates Asui Tsuyu and Kirishima Eijirou, he hadn't used it all YEAR. not even during the USJ invasion) was rampant through hero forums. Popular theories included:

- Shouto didn't want to one-up his classmates, so he restricted his power to make it fair. (which is understandable, but.... hon.... how likely is that. the damn MOTTO is ‘plus ultra’)

- Shouto was told not to by his father, and didn't, as some kind of rite of passage. (which is a whole NEW kind of 'what the fuck, enji' and i'm just. not touching that theory)

- My personal and biased favorite: Shouto was rebelling against his father after being pressured to surpass him and be even greater. (which, fair. honestly, any kind of intense pressure ESPECIALLY from a high-profile parent is stressful. take music lessons, for example! kids are gonna give up if they're forced to do shit! come ON, endeavor)

Endeavor (in MULTIPLE) interviews, has referred to Shouto as 'his masterpiece,' or 'his greatest work,' or other terrifying names. Honestly. Children aren't property, and although quirks are tossed around like clothes in a washing machine, their uses don't justify the treatment of their people. Especially with all the stigma surrounding "villainous" quirks. (WHICH IS BULLSHIT, OKAY? quirks aren't inherently villainous. sure, some are a little less flashy and virtuous, but fear is irrelevant! it's what you choose to do with what you have that matters. choices affect content of character, not predetermined morality)

BACK ON TOPIC. I'm not sorry. I feel like I could write a whole separate article on why villainous quirks don't actually exist? Should I? Hell yeah. I will, eventually.

Endeavor's blatant favoritism of Shouto is highlighted by the way he talks about his other children. By that, I'm referring to the fact that he outright DOESN'T. Not one WORD on Natsuo's confirmed cure for quirk burns. Not ONE WORD on Fuyumi's (SIX) teaching awards.

 And, most concerningly?

Endeavor has refused to allow Todoroki Rei to leave the mental hospital she was put into (10 YEARS AGO) although she's passed EVERY SINGLE examination. (fuck, i'm not allowed to talk about that. OH WELL if i go i'm going OUT)

 Shouto has affirmed that he doesn't want to work under his father, and will likely be joining a separate agency in the event of immediate hero work after graduation. He sort of implied that his father didn't know when to stop, but then left the interview.

"Didn't know when to stop? Stop what, Ella?" Remember how I mentioned some kind of 'training' way early into this? Mmm-hmm.

 I'm going to do some extreme hand-waving here. This is ALL speculation, and as of now it's ILLEGAL speculation.  

Back to Touya for a second. The records I found said that he won his match, but lost the semi-final due to intense quirk backlash. The time of the first match was INCREDIBLE. 

 6.3 seconds. Holy... SHIT.

(great job, touya! we're all really proud of you!)

Honestly! That's crazy! Record-breaking, even. Second only to... Shouto.

Second to Shouto. Maybe that's... not the first time Touya's heard that phrase.

Anyway. Training plays a role in this, because the difference in control between Shouto and Touya with fire is barely noticable. They both copy a move (left hand swing and then a full-fire short range blast) from each other. Well, maybe not from each-other.

Let's look into the Hosu fight. Endeavor uses a blue-fire jet-flame attack (can't remember if it has a name, only that it's INTENSE and I would NOT like to be on the receiving end of it), but later with the LoV's monsters (they're called 'noumu'), he uses a very familiar move.

 Left hand swing. Full-fire short range blast.

Only this time, there's no eye flinch or subtle shoulder tense. Only cold, hard, fury.

  What am I implying?

Well, I can't legally talk about THAT, now can I?

Thank you very much for reading this! I picked up this style from a few meta posts in other fandoms; the writer has access to information the reader does NOT, in this case the lack of canon information regarding Dabi’s background and/or schooling. I added headcanons:

-Natuso being quirkless

-Touya going to UA

-Touya being a badass (that’s not really a headcanon, though. he’s related to fuyumi. of course he’s gonna be a badass)

[stranger-to-london]

Day 4: The Doctor Is Back

“But thank you guys so much for watching, I’ll see all you dudes in the next video!”

Jack stood up to turn off the camera, before slinking back into his chair. Recording while he was sick took a lot more energy than he anticipated. He closed his eyes, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyelids. The pressure helped a bit, but he still couldn’t shake this feeling. He decided that maybe he should go lie down, but when he opened his eyes again, he found himself face down on the ground.

“Dude, what’re you doing?” He heard a voice ask from the doorway.

Turning his head to the side, he saw Chase standing over him, a look of confusion on his face.

“Were you trying out new ideas for a let’s play, bro?” Chase asked, sitting down next to his brother. “Because the camera can’t see you down here dude.”

“I think I’m dying,” Jack said with a weak laugh. “My bones are dust and everything hurts.”

Without warning, Chase’s dad instincts kicked in. He immediately placed his hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. After waiting a minute, he let his hand fall from Jack’s face. He let out a sigh before giving Jack his diagnosis.

“Bro, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think you have a virus.”

Jack blinked slowly. “But...how? All I do is sit here and record.”

“That’s probably the reason, bro.” Chase patted his brother on his back before offering him a hand up. “You should take a break. You don’t want to burn yourself out. Let me record for a bit.”

Reluctantly, Jack took his hand and pulled himself into a sitting position. “No,” he grunted. “I think I’ll be okay.”

Chase frowned. “Dude, no. You should definitely go lie down for a bit, at least until Hen gets home and can check you out.”

Jack made a sound of discontent, but nodded in agreement anyway. As he left the room, he could hear Chase yelling his intro. He chuckled on his way upstairs. He never thought the community would believe Chase was him, but the few times he’d needed his brother record in his place, no one had noticed the change. It made him feel slightly dishonest to deceive his fans that way, but sometimes he just needed a little time to himself. Plus, Chase needed the occasional distraction, especially after his wife had taken the kids and left him.

Before he realized it, he was already in his bed. A wave of exhaustion washed over him, his head now pounding, and he was glad his brother was able to talk some sense into him. He glanced over at the clock, which read 10:31pm. It was earlier than he usually went to bed, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. As he drifted off, he could hear someone talking from another rooms in the house. He found this a bit odd, since Chase was recording and Jameson was the only other person home, but his body gave him no more time to think about it.

He was only asleep for what felt like a few minutes, when a piercing laugh jolted him awake. Jack sat up, drenched in a cold sweat. 

‘What was that?’ He thought to himself. 

He reached out to turn on his bedside lamp, but for some reason, it had vanished. Looking around, he noticed that more than the lamp had disappeared from his room. He was once again face down on the ground, this time in the center of a room without windows or doors. Jack jumped to his feet, and raced towards where his bedroom door had once been. Running his fingers along the endless wall, he could not find a single trace of it.  

Defeated, he rested his forehead against the wall, hoping that this was just a dream and that he would wake up soon. He stayed in this position for several minutes, until he could feel a presence behind him. The air around him grew heavy, saturated with electricity that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Slowly, he turned to face the source of the static, but was met only with more darkness.

“Well, well, well,” shrieked a voice from the shadows. “I never thought you’d give in so easily.”

Jack peered deeper into the dark, only to see the faint outline of a figure. “Who’s there?” He called out. “Where am I?”

The voice chuckled, sending a shiver down his spine. “You’re exactly where I need you to be.”

Before he even had a chance to process what that meant, the walls started to crumble around them. In the distance, Jack could hear his brothers calling out to him.

“Jack...!” He could hear Chase crying. “Jack, it’s Chase. You need to wake up!”

In between Chase’s sobs, Jack could just faintly make out Henrik’s voice, consoling their brother. “Chase, please,” the doctor begged. “If you vant me to save him, you must give me space!”

‘Save me...?’ Jack wondered. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

Henrik’s voice returned again, a mixture of fear and anger. “Chase, now. Ve need to figure out vhat is wrong. Ve need to figure out vhat is wrong with Jack.”

Still trapped in the rapidly deteriorating room, Jack tried to reach out to his brothers through a newly formed crack in the wall, but the shadowed figure pulled him back. It’s grip was electric, causing Jack to crumple to the ground. As he lay there, motionless, he watched as Henrik turned around, seemingly peering into the void. Jack could see the pain in his brother’s eyes, but they weren’t his eyes any longer.

So this got really long and off-track and it’s not quite doctor oriented? But he is in there...and I liked this. I didn’t want to cut it down or start over, and hey! This is my blog, i can do what i want xD plus i am still very behind on these prompts.

Taglist: @linoyowiii