#and i know hes pretty and has trauma but like fix yourself pal

[devouringyourson]

just finishing out S7 of 911 and im not sure i like eddie much anymore

[ohmygeese]

Hi! Welcome to our new segment called "The SMP has morally gray storyline so stop treating it like everything is black or white: Rant Edition"

The reason why Tubbo was compared to Schlatt in the first place was because he didn't inform his cabinet of his decision of exiling Tommy. This is a valid reason for his cabinet to be upset but unfortunately, they took the situation as an opportunity to manipulate Tubbo to do their bidding.

Knowing the full story, Tommy had no right to call Tubbo "a monster" but looking at purely Tommy's perspective, he was pretty valid in saying so (allegedly kicking Wilbur out of NLM, putting Phil in house arrest, planning to execute Techno, and of course, his entire exile). Same goes to the times Tubbo called Tommy "selfish and a liability." Both are unfair portrayals of each character's actions but are completely understandable since their relationship has been tainted by miscommunication and "hear-says" from biased/unrealiable sources.

During the El Rapids storyline, Dream had the right to call Quackity a terrorist although we know it wasn't purely because of the fake strike and the siege of the throne but as a political tactic for his own benefit. However, Karl also had the right to call Dream a tyrant because why else would you get yourself involved in an affair of two nations of which you aren't even a part of and go as far as to speak over the king and use your godly powers as a threat. Like :D

Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo are the only ones who actually care about maintaning peace and justice in the server. I could not stress this enough: "The fate of the entire server rests on their hands." Quackity? On a power high. Fundy and Niki? Running away from their problems and building a new country to sastify their own desires. Phil? Protecting Techno is his #1 priority, anything else nada. Techno? On a revenge arc and owes a favor to a person who goes against the very core of his anarchic (?) ideals. These three are the only ones willing to call out bullshit eveb if it means a loss in power or comfort but, currently, they're all facing difficulties to do so. Tommy is literally overloaded with trauma and is questioning the world as he knows it. Tubbo is being manipulated by Dream and his cabinet. Ranboo has memory issues, is easily peer-pressured and is isn't really taken seriously by the wide majority. The SMP is fucked if they don't pull their shit together.

Tommy has the right to say that nobody cared about him during his exile because he has said multiple times in passing how depressed and tired he has been since living in Logstedshire. He even has mentioned Dream's manipulative tendencies multiple tomes. But even after all that, Ranboo was the only to actually recognize and do something about it (Sapnap as well but he's too pre-occupied with El Rapids). Not even his own father did.

Canonically, Phil is a terrible father and grandfather. He calls out bullshit but never makes an effort to fix them. Old man disowned his furry grandson for wanting to kill Techno but doesn't explain to him Techno's reasoning with the war crimes in the first place. Old man also did nothing to save Tommy from exile even after witnessing the shit his son is going through. (I know its not in the script and I respect that but we gotta call out bs. Hope they give Phil redemption other than being a good pal to only Techno :D)

Both Pogtopia and Techno are at fault for the government clash incident. Pogtopia has expressed multiple times of how they want to reclaim L'manberg. It was Techno's mistake to not infer that it included the government especially since the heads of the operation were the ex-president and vice president of the nation. Additionally, Techno kept saying stuff like "We'll burn the bridge when we get there," whenever he gets asked on his opinion about the revolution. And that is called miscommunication at its finest. However, this does not discredit the fact that Pogtopia did use Techno as a literal weapon without further inspecting his stance whatsoever.

On the topic of Pogtopia and Techno, in the moment where its revealed that Techno is going to betray Tommy, don't say its karma. They were both used as weapons during that era, Tommy far beyond that. He wasn't even the one to institute the government when they won, it was Wilbur. Think of it as Tommy as the handle and Techno was the blade. It fits perfectly to their dynamic during that era. Also, don't try to reason out manipulation wth.

Last point, to the people who were disappointed that Tommy never got to "learn his lesson" after he escaped from Dream, do not become parents. Just don't. You really expect a literal teenager who just escaped from an abusive relationship to think about that? Bitch, Tommy never had time to even think about his trauma and you expect him to be like "ye, i was irresponsible," in a snap? If anything, the exile just showed him that he and his discs are being used a political leverage (he even said that he's the only one Dream is scared of) so of course, Tommy is going to try to take his discs back as a way to end the bullshit he and everyone he holds dear has gone through. We don't even know if he's going to put it in an e-chest or burn it (probably the latter). Guys. Please. The child literally went through hell and back. Give him therapy before lecturing him about being "selfish." (Again, you have no right to call him that in the first place.)

Appreaciate the storyline for what it is and stop trying to fight each other over who was right and who's in the wrong like please. The only redeemable (by redeemable i mean saints amongst men y'know maybe should not have used that word to begin with but ahhhhhh) characters here is Ranboo (Edit: Also Niki haha woops, thank you for reminding me) if I'm completely honest. (I am going against everything I stand for to not include Tommy and Tubno in that sentence but I said what I said.)

/dsmp /roleplay /nm

[ofstoriesandstardust]

Will you do a Steve McGarrett with #s 52 and 59 please? Thank you.

A/N: Man, I’m really busting this writing out! This doesn’t really occur at a certain point in the timeline and the trauma that’s referred to is mostly what Steve experienced and saw as a Navy Seal and his time with the team. This is a shorty, but it’s pretty good nonetheless. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Prompts: (from this prompt list):

52. “You can’t fix me.”

59. “Tell me why you fucking care?!”

Word count: 998

Warnings: Swearing, PTSD

Let Me In

“Ow.” You muttered, rubbing your leg from where your boyfriend, Steve McGarrett, had kicked you in his sleep. Half-awake, you turned to see him tossing and turning, sweating, and muttering in his sleep. You sighed and rubbed your hands over your face. You knew these nightmares, and flashbacks and so many other symptoms of the PTSD Steve suffered from that you couldn’t even begin to name tormented him around the clock. You had begged and pleaded with Steve to get help for months now because you couldn’t help him process his trauma in the way he needed. It had begun to take a heavy toll on your relationship, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. Steve woke up, and sat up, breathing quite heavily. You reached over to give him a hug, but he flinched away. He put his head into his hands, and continued to try and calm his breathing. You sighed, defeated, and looked at his back, as he was turned away from you. Once he seemed to calm, you sighed. “Steve…” You said softly.

“Don’t. Just don’t.” He said firmly and got up and strode out of the room. You sighed and flopped back down on the bed. This was like deja vu, a repeat of nights you had already lived through.  You yet again rubbed a hand over your face. You wanted to help Steve and be there for him, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could continue to be shut out. You could hear Steve down in the living room and decided that it was finally time to confront Steve. One last attempt to plead with him to get help, to see a therapist, to go to meetings, anything because you could not do this anymore. You pushed yourself off the bed and took one last deep breath before making your way downstairs. Steve was seated on the couch, hand over his mouth, staring off into space. You wrapped your arms around you and leaned up against the wall. Steve looked up at you and then looked away.

“Steve, I can’t-” Steve looked up at you again, standing up off the couch.

“Can’t do what?”

“Steve, I can not continue to be here for you and support you and be your girlfriend if you continue to shut me out like this. I-”

“So then don’t.”

“What?”

“So don’t be my girlfriend.”

“Are you fucking serious Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. You seem to have this idea that you can just waltz right into my life, and then just fucking fix me with love. That’s not how trauma works, that’s not how this fucking works. You can’t fix me, (Y/N), no matter how much you want to. I am not some wound that you can just put a loving band-aid on and it will go away! I am a person, who has seen so much shit out there in the world that you could never begin to comprehend!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that?! Do you think that after all this time, I don’t know that I can’t fix you?! Steve, I know! But you have been shutting me out since day 1 and you never want to let me see the worst parts of you. Steve, I know you have seen a lot of fucked up shit, and I can not help you process that shit in the way that you need to!”

“Tell me why you fucking care?! Huh, why do you give a shit about me or anything I’m going through?!”

“Because I love you! You are my boyfriend, and a relationship is a two-way street pal. You’re there for me, just the same as I’m there for you. And I want to be here to help you process your shit but I can not give you the help in the way that you need. And you have denied help over, and over again, and I am just doing the best I can. I need you to get help, make an effort to do better, and let me in, and I will stand by you and support you through all of your dark shit.”

“Or what?!”

“Or this is it, Steve. I’m done. I love you so much but I can’t continue to support you like this. You’re on the path to self-destruction and I just can’t sit around anymore, waiting for it to happen.”

“So then don’t. So leave.” You were taken aback. You weren’t prepared to hear those words come from Steve, or really leave him at all. The tears you had tried so hard to hold back fell freely now.

“Is that what you want?” For the first time since you two had started arguing, Steve turned to you. Seeing you in such a state must have shocked him because he took a few steps back and fell silent. “Steve, if you want me to leave, I’ll go.”

“I don’t want to hold you back from what you deserve.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“No, I don’t want you to fucking go, (Y/N). Of course, I don’t. I love you and I want you here with me. But you’re right, I do need help, and I need to let you in, but I’m so terrified of that.” It was now your turn to be stunned.

“Terrified of what?”

“Terrified of losing you. If I let you in, and you leave, or something happens to you, I don’t know how-”

“Steve, I’m not going to leave. I’ll be here as long as you want me here. Please, just let me in.” You were now choking on your tears and Steve pulled you into his arms. You and Steve stood there for so long, clinging on to each other for dear life. This was the closest you two had been in months and you knew that you had gotten through to him. Things were going to change, for the better this time.

[seokstyle]

critical condition (m) - 1

pair: hoseok x reader, light jungkook x reader (series) themes: med student!reader, nurse!hoseok, lots of medically-related flirting genre: smut, some fluff, future angst warnings: dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, thigh riding, orgasm denial

you knew that your first rotation as a medical student was going to have its challenges. you did not anticipate one of those challenges to be dealing with a handsome ER nurse who won’t give you a break.

word count: 5.3k 

part 2 | masterlist

“Joon, I genuinely don’t know if I’ll make it.”

“Ah, don’t be so negative,” he reassures you. “It takes a learning curve but it’s only been one week.”

“I’ve messed up so much though! They’ll just stand me in the corner and shame me until I melt into a puddle.”

 “It takes time to adjust,” he protests. 

You fix him with an annoyed look. “Did you know someone came in and they tried to give it to me as an easy first case? One that’s dumbass-proof, right?” He nods, a little weary of what you’ll say next. “It was an ear infection. Did you know what I forgot to do, Namjoon?” You lean in across the cafeteria table towards him for dramatic effect. “I forgot to look at his fucking ear.” You lean back in your chair and groan into your hands.

Your friend winces, but does not let up on his optimism. “We’ve only just started, Y/N. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” 

“Why do you always try to be so reasonable,” you grumble as you spoon the last of the mashed potatoes into your mouth. “It makes it harder to throw myself a pity party.”

Namjoon chuckles in response. “I’m saying it as much to myself as I am to you. Peds has not been easy,” he added with a sigh. “So many crying children, so many angry parents, so many impatient doctors…” He trails off, and you both sit there in silence thinking about the hellscapes you both have to return back to in a few minutes.

This was the first rotation for both of you as medical students, and though you had heard that most residency programs were more lenient on the first couple since you were still getting the hang of the clinical setting, you didn’t want to completely blow your chances at a good recommendation from your supervisors. Though your reputation during this past week was not doing you any good. 

You and Namjoon had become fast friends in the whirlwind that was your first two years of medical school. He had saved your ass in anatomy lab, and you had come to his rescue in biochemistry. But despite your successes in the classroom, neither of you had anticipated how abrupt the transition would be from looking at textbooks and lectures to talking to real patients and actually diagnosing diseases yourself. 

Add getting thrown into the ER for your first ever clinical experience, as was your luck. With the fast pace, the trauma emergencies you had to assist in on, just everything… you were in over your head. Just thinking about all of the questions you were going to have to ask (and would inevitably forget to ask) when you went back upstairs already was making your head spin. At least you could hold onto small fragments of your sanity when you grabbed food breaks, though you both had to return to reality soon.

Namjoon sighs as he pushes his chair back from the table, picking up his tray and giving you a small smile. “Best of luck.”

“You too, pal.”

The night started off better than your previous shifts this week have been. You had been more attentive when it comes to asking patients what brings them in today, remembered key aspects of physical exams when it applied, and you actually felt a little competent. But then you had left for your dinner break, and by the time you made it back to the ER all hell had broken loose.

The other local hospitals were at capacity which meant that all ambulances were going to come to you instead. On top of that, a new rush of admissions had come in, and now the ER was overflowing with people who needed quick medical attention. Soon there were a million things going on and before you knew it, it was past midnight and you were barely staying afloat. You were quickly sent out by the attending to grab a laceration tray, and all of your usual spots to check for supplies were empty. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, using all of your 3 brain cells to think. If I was a laceration tray, where would I be hiding?

“Looking for this?” you heard someone say in a playful tone. You opened your eyes. An outstretched hand had appeared in front of you holding the coveted tray, and you turned to see a handsome nurse you had gotten to know well. 

“Oh my God, Hobi,” you sigh in relief. “How did you know?”

He smirked, and you wanted to roll your eyes at him. “I overheard the resident while I passed outside of the room, so I went ahead and grabbed one for you.” 

You smile. “Thank you, seriously. This shift is getting insane, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

He gasped dramatically in response. “Well we wouldn’t want that! Though,” he added as he leans in closer to you, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m CPR-certified,” he responds with a wink. 

You actually do roll your eyes this time. “You and everyone else in this hospital.”

The first shift in the emergency department may have well been the worst day of your life. Patients had gotten upset with you for forgetting to fulfill requests they had made, you had gotten lost three times in the maze of hallways, and you kept fumbling with every question asked of you. You were under the resident Dr. Kim for that shift, and would continue to be on his charge for the rest of the week. You were petrified because he was chief resident, but he urged you to drop formalities and just call him Seokjin. He was incredibly kind and understanding when you made mistakes (which was often). 

Near the end of the shift, Seokjin had asked you to grab a suture kit so he could close up someone’s finger that had gotten sliced. You had agreed enthusiastically, eager to redeem yourself, but realized the second you stepped out of the room you had no clue where the sutures were kept. 

Great. 

You didn’t know what to do but you were NOT going back into there to ask and make a fool of yourself for the 20th time today. As nice as the resident was being to you, you didn’t want to test his patience either. You wanted to lock yourself into one of the closets and hide until they found you and kicked you out of medical school, because it felt inevitable at this point. 

Right as you were contemplating ways to escape the hospital, you felt someone tap on your shoulder. 

“Are you looking for something?”

Maybe your prayers had been answered, because when you turned around to see who was speaking you swear you saw an angel sent from the heavens for you. His smile was dazzling, with adorable dimples peeking out from the corners of his mouth, and his chestnut hair looked divinely soft as it swooped down onto his forehead. He brushed it out of his eyes, and you noticed that his arms looked strong and toned, and it only made you wonder what other muscles he must be hiding under his scrubs. 

He looked like a sun-kissed god who had somehow gotten lost in the ER hallways. And from the way he was smirking at you, he could definitely tell you had been checking him out. Shit.

“D-do you know where the sutures are kept?”, you managed to squeak out. He grinned. It would be your luck that he procured exactly what you needed from his pants pocket at that moment. You weren’t going to die, after all.

“I always keep a few packs on me, it’s come in handy before. Do you need nylon or monofilament? Probably monofilament.” He muses to himself as he rummages through his pockets some more. He looks up at you and asks, “Do you know what size you need either, 4-0 or 3-0?” You shake your head. “That’s okay! I’ll just give you one of each just in case.” He takes your hand, placing the suture packets into your palm and sending you a dazzling smile.  

You were so relieved you could cry. “Oh my God, I love you, thank you so much,” you blurted without thinking, immediately cringing at your words. 

“Wow sweetheart, at least take me out to dinner before you confess like that.” You felt your cheeks burn from his words, and he must have noticed your embarrassment because his tone was more gentle when he spoke next. “First day?”

God, it must be that obvious that you’re a deer in the headlights right now. You nod, putting the sutures into your white coat pocket.

He looked down at your badge, reading your name and credentials. God, your name sounded so much nicer coming from his lips. “Medical student?” You nod again.

“I remember my first day, it was rough. It does get better though, I promise.” You nod dumbly once more, not fully believing him. He offers you a small smile. “Listen,” he says as he comes to stand behind you, lightly grabbing your shoulders and maneuvering you towards wherever he wants you to look. You could feel the heat of his touch through your thin hospital-issued scrubs and coat, and it sent your pulse running. 

He pointed a little way down from you in the hallway. “Do you see that door? That’s the supply closet, it will have almost anything you ever will need, on a shelf with a label. If it’s not there, try asking the ER secretary,” he steers you a little more to the right, pointing to the center of the area to where the nurses’ desks are located. “They know if no one else does. And if they can’t help you, you can always come find me.” He turns you around so that you are facing each other now, removing his hands from your shoulders, and you almost miss the feel of his touch on you. He points to himself. “My name’s Hoseok, see?” He points to his badge. Hoseok Jung, RN. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” you sighed in relief. He laughed, and you could almost swoon at how pretty he looked when his eyes crinkled up like that. “I guess that is my job, technically. But for someone as cute as you? Anytime,” he replied with a wink. And with that he turned around, leaving you with cheeks red again from the compliment he had added without a second thought. 

“Are you saying you wouldn’t want me to give you mouth-to-mouth?” He pouted, his dimples poking out from the corners of his mouth, but you saw the twinkle in his eyes. Cheeky bastard.

You laugh at him instead of entertaining his comment, taking the tray from his hands and preparing for your mad dash back to the patient room before the resident came looking for you. “Thank you, Hoseok!” 

“That wasn’t a no!” he called after you. You shook your head, smiling to yourself. He had come to your rescue again and again over the past few days, almost as if he knew exactly when you needed his help. Maybe you were growing immune to his charms (or maybe you were becoming emboldened by them), but you were less intimidated and a little more flirtatious with each new interaction with him lately.

You make it back to the patient’s room, and Seokjin even lets you assist with suturing and repairing the wound, under his supervision. The attending had come in shortly after and praised your handiwork as well. You were over the moon! 

But your joy at helping in a procedure for the first time was short-lived. In the next three rooms you entered, the family and patient decided you were the best person on staff to yell at about their outrageous waiting times in the ER. The patient after that did not verbally abuse you, and you made what you thought was a stellar interrogation and clinical analysis, but as you presented to the attending he sent you back for 15 more questions you hadn’t thought to ask. You just wanted to go home to pass out or cry, you would be fine with either at this point. 

As you go to enter the room of the last patient you are assigned for the shift, you see Hoseok wheeling his mobile scribing computer out as he finished taking the preliminary exam. “Hey,” you place a hand on his upper arm to catch him from leaving too soon. “Can you brief me real quick on what’s up? Seokjin was too swamped to give me many details.” 

“Oh, yeah sure.” Hoseok pulls up the patient chart. “Kid came in with severe abdominal pain going on for a couple of hours now. He’s hypertensive at 160/90 but that’s likely due to pain, and he’s tachycardic at 110 bpm. All other vitals look okay,” he added as he scrolls through. “I did a super quick overall physical exam on him just to make sure he wasn’t going to code. Lungs sound clear, heart sounded okay, but I have to run to the trauma bay since they’re short-staffed tonight, so I wasn’t able to do anything too focused on exam,” he explains. “That should get you started off at least though.” He grins and starts walking backwards away from you, tugging his computer along with him. “See you later, angel!” You slide open the room’s door and send him a smile back. “Thanks, Hobi. Good luck!”

You go inside and confirm all of the findings that Hoseok mentioned to you with the patient. The pain is all over his abdomen he says, and he can’t tell you exactly where it’s coming from but it’s clear he’s in a lot of discomfort. You ask a few more pointed questions to try and narrow down your diagnosis, double-check that his lungs and heart sound normal, and tell the patient the doctor will be in shortly to discuss their plan of care.

You go back outside and find Seokjin and the attending to present your findings in the small conference room connected to the ER hallway. “25 year-old male presents with severe abdominal pain, dull in character with increased severity upon ingestion. Pain began within the past two hours but patient states that it has been getting increasingly worse, and has increased to an 8 out of 10. Reports having nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. Patient appears dehydrated which could be symptomatic of his condition or could be a result of his vomiting, and is tachycardic and hypertensive.” 

Jin nods encouragingly, and the attending contemplates on what you have told him. “Good presentation, good initial history. Okay,” he continues, “what did you find on the physical exam?”

“His lungs appeared clear to auscultation and heart sounds were all normal, no murmurs noted. Patient did appear diaphoretic and feverish and had weakened grip strength and poorer motor skills than expected, but is capable of ambulation.” 

The attending hums in response, looking over the patient’s chart. “Okay very good, no reason to suspect any cardiac or respiratory abnormalities. That’s important to ensure with all patients.” You beam, proud that you were at least ending the night on a high note and being praised for your work. “What else?”

You hesitate for a moment. “I believe that was everything, sir.”

“What about his abdomen?”

“Sir?”

He looks up at you from the computer. “What were your abdominal exam findings?” You can see Seokjin’s face pale slightly behind him, understanding what is happening. 

You didn’t do it, you forgot. You didn’t examine the abdomen. Of a patient. With abdominal pain. You hear white noise ringing in your ears as panic sets in. “S-sir, I didn’t do a full abdomen exam.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You didn’t do it?” You nod. “So then what were your differential diagnoses?”

You gulp. “I suspected appendicitis, diverticulitis, or colitis.” 

“So what would be plan of care?”

You guess you had a chance to redeem yourself maybe now, if you were thorough with what you wanted to do with the patient. Maybe then the doctor would ease up on you some. “Initially manage pain and nausea with anti-emetic and pain relief medications. All of my differentials would be confirmed either by CT scan, most likely, so that would assist the patient in feeling better while imaging returns from radiology.” Hopefully, that was enough.

“I see,” the attending muses, looking back at the charts for a moment. You brace yourself for what he would say next. “So, you had made some ideas of what the patient could have going on, all abdominal-related, but,” he turns back towards you. “You didn’t even think to touch the patient first?”

Fuck. It had backfired. You wanted to melt into the ground. Seokjin offers you a sympathetic look from behind the attending as he grills you further while you shrink into your seat. You were getting your ass handed to you and you deserved it. You had to say something at this point; you would be damned if you had to keep working with this doctor who made the assumption that you were an enormous dumbass because of ONE mistake you made. You had to recover, and quick. 

So you go with the first idea that comes to mind. 

“Sir, I am regretful for not performing the physical exam myself, that was wrong of me to do,” you apologize. “I had spoken with the nurse assigned to this patient prior to taking the history, and he had told me that he had already done a physical exam and the findings should be in the chart from his records, but I suppose he failed to do so.” 

You knew what you were doing wasn’t fair, but Hoseok was in the trauma bay and would never know. And you had to do something to save face or any chance you had at matching into emergency medicine were going to be gone at this rate. “I had higher expectations from him but it was my mistake for entrusting him to do that correctly.”

The attending is quiet as you make this excuse as believable and apologetic as possible, then scrolls through the chart. “It says Hoseok Jung was the nurse assigned to his care.” You bristle at hearing his name. “He’s usually incredibly thorough with his job,” the attending mentions in surprise. “I guess this time he didn’t record the findings as he normally would.” He turns to you now, and you pray for salvation from his wrath. “Next time, don’t rely on anyone else on staff. Make sure you do the exam yourself, and trust your own knowledge and intuition most. Others can be wrong, too.” He sighs, and you let out your own sigh of relief. “Okay, I’m going to go grab a coffee and I’ll take care of the patient from here.” He gets up and heads out the conference room door, but turns around to add one last comment before he goes. “Good work, Y/N.”

You thank every power in this universe for sparing you this once. Your recommendation letter was still safe, for now.

“Hey,” you hear the other person left in the room call out to you. You look over at Seokjin and feel a pang of guilt from the expression he has.

“I know what you were trying to do there.” He sounds disappointed, and you feel like a little kid, caught doing something they shouldn’t. You avert your eyes, opting to look down at your shoes instead of look at him directly. His tone softens some. “It’s been a rough week for you to start on, and it’s hard to get the hang of talking to patients and all. I don’t blame you for it, but it’s best to just own up to a mistake instead of bringing someone else into it.” He gets up from his seat to leave, and pauses as he walks by you to put a hand on your shoulder. You look up at him again.; his eyes are empathetic and understanding. “You must be exhausted. Go home and get some sleep, okay?” You nod, and he turns to leave out of the door.

God. You felt like such a colossal bitch. You close your eyes and rub your temples. At least the shift from hell was finally over, and you survived. You still had a chance to properly earn the respect of this attending, and you could finally enjoy your first day off tomorrow. You get up and head out of the conference room as well, closing the door behind you. 

“Hey there,” you hear someone say to your left, and you jump. You look over and see Hoseok with his scribing computer, staring intently at the screen. 

Your blood runs cold for a moment, and you look at him nervously. “Hey,” you answer quietly. “How was the trauma?”

He doesn’t move to look over at you as he responds. “Oh, they had it under control so they sent me back to this hall,” he says offhandedly as he resumes his typing. 

“Oh.” You nod slowly, looking at the floor for a second, thinking to yourself in a panic. Fuck, what if he was right outside the room the whole time? Could he have heard you throw him under the bus like that? You look back over at him, very tentatively. He doesn’t seem as animated and charismatic as he usually is with you, his jaw clenched tight like he’s frustrated with something. 

But maybe he’s just tired after a long shift, or had a bad patient? Right? 

“Okay well, I’m done for the night so I’m going to finish up my charting,” you offer eagerly. He doesn’t move to even look at you, and the guilt comes creeping into your bones again. You turn and walk back towards one of the computer desks, swiping your badge to log in. You start typing notes up, but your thinking gets more and more muddled with every line you write.

There would probably have been so many other chances to recover from that one slip-up. Why did you act like it was the end of the world? Was it worth it just for the off-chance that you might get a good recommendation? You haven’t even liked this rotation so far. You sit in your chair, staring blankly at someone’s lab report from 4 hours ago mulling over whether or not you completely ruined your friendship with Hoseok. 

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear when the mobile computer rolls up behind you, and someone says your name quietly. 

You jump, and you feel your ears turning pink as you recognize the voice, lacking its usual light-hearted tone. You turn to look at him, and his face was completely devoid of any emotion. You feel a chill go down your spine. “Can you help me get something from the supply room?” 

God, he did. He must have heard you. You nod, not trusting yourself to say anything out loud, and get up to follow him meekly down the hall and into the supply closet, the same one he had pointed out to you on your first day. Ironic, somehow. Hoseok opens the door, motioning for you to walk in first, and you oblige. 

He walks in after you, flipping on the lights and shutting the door behind him, locking it quickly. You barely have enough time to turn around to face him before you felt him move. He pushed you backwards, your back meeting the wall behind you with a soft thud. His forearms rested on either side of your head, propping himself up and caging you in. You look at him in surprise and can’t help yourself from letting out a small gasp. His jaw was still set but his eyes had turned overwhelmingly dark, swimming with anger. 

You had expected Hoseok to yell at you, call you a bitch, threaten to tell the attending. Best case scenario, he actually needed your help getting something and you would be fine and he heard nothing. What you did not expect was this. 

“So,” he starts, a lazy drawl to his voice, “I heard someone thinks she’s been around the block enough times to put a nurse in his place.” 

Your cheeks burn at his words. “That’s not what I was-” 

He cuts you off. “What did you say again?” He pulls back for a moment, pretending to be lost in thought. “You had ‘higher expectations’ of me?” He chuckles. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment, princess.” The pet name sent shivers down your back. 

God, you had really fucked up. “No, wait,” you push your hands up against his chest to try and get some space for a moment so you could explain yourself. You tried not to think about how firm he felt under your fingertips, and how your pulse was quickening from being in such close proximity to him. “I didn’t mean to-” 

Hoseok moves so fast you don’t even fully process it, grabbing your wrists away from your feeble attempts to make room between you two and pinning them above your head. It takes everything in you to not gasp out loud, the action going straight to your core. What the fuck was happening right now?

“Shh,” he whispers condescendingly against your ear, your heart fluttering from his close proximity. “I think you’ve said plenty today, wouldn’t you agree? I think it’s my turn to talk, hmm?” He pulls back to look at you, a wolf-life expression engulfing his features. You swallow and nod dumbly. “Good girl,” he smirks, and you hold in the urge to moan out. 

“Did you forget that I have been at this ER for three years?” He crowds your body against the wall, his chest flush against yours. “That I have more experience than you?” You felt breathless like you had been running for miles. You were losing your mind.

“That just because you’re a medical student,” he grabs your white coat and pulls you closer to him, making you shudder, “doesn’t mean you get to push me around like that?” 

Your head was swimming and you had lost all coherent thoughts, but you were still desperate to clear the air between you. “If you just would let me explain-” Your words are cut off as Hoseok pulls back and places his hand across your mouth, muffling anything you have to say. Your eyes widen in anger and in arousal, and he smirks again.

“Didn’t I say no talking?” You try to protest, muffling words against his palm, and he lets out a sound of disapproval. “Are you going to be a good girl and listen?”

You actually moan out against his hand this time. Something about being at his complete mercy like this was unraveling you in ways you had never felt before, and he was clearly catching on. Hoseok grins, eyes swimming with lust, and leans in to whisper against your ear once more. “Oh? Does someone like being put in her place?” You moan out again, a muffled quiet admission. He uses his free hand to dip behind your white coat and pull you closer to him by the waist, until you lay flush against him. 

“Sweetheart, I think you should remember,” He had pulled you so close against him that you could feel his growing arousal against your lower stomach. Your eyes roll back, and he chuckles. “If you didn’t have me, you still would be fumbling around the hallways, in a daze.” You could barely process his admonishing words at this point. You cant your hips towards his, desperate for any stimulation, and he groans deeply against the shell of your ear. You felt so fucked out, and he hadn’t even touched you.

Hoseok finally acquiesces, using his thigh to part your legs open, and you let out another muffled moan as he ground his leg up against you, offering you some relief. “Look at you, so desperate for me,” he traces the shell of your ear with his tongue, “grinding against me like a dirty whore.” You didn’t even realize it, but you were right; he had stopped moving and you were still chasing your pleasure, riding his muscular thigh without realizing it. “I can feel how soaked you are through both of our scrubs. So wet, just for me?” His words should have embarrassed you, but you were so far gone you didn’t care. It only turned you on more.

He pulls back from you suddenly, much to your displeasure, and you whine out in protest. “Oh I’m sorry angel,” he comments unapologetically, drawing his gaze up and down your body, “but only girls who behave themselves get what they want.” He had the cockiest look you had ever seen on his face, and you could feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes from frustration. 

You could choke Hoseok right now, but you were too desperate for him to continue. You needed to reach your end. So you grabbed the hem of his scrub top. “I won’t do it again, I’ll be a good girl,” you begged, not even fully hearing yourself as you tried to pull him back and finish what he started. “I promise, please!”

The tears in your eyes, your flushed cheeks, the desperation in your voice. It was unraveling him too, though he didn’t want to admit it. He closed his eyes, throwing his head back with a groan. “I don’t think you’ve quite learned your lesson yet,” he tuts as he looks down at you again, his eyes hooded and you moan again, almost in relief. “I think you need me to remind you where you belong.”

At that exact moment, someone turns the key in the locked door, and Hoseok springs back away from you towards some of the shelving on the opposite side of the closet. Your thoughts are still flustered, not processing anything, and you stay pinned against the wall as though his hands are still on you, holding you there. The door opens to reveal none other than, as your luck would have it, Seokjin.

“Oh, Hoseok,” he starts, then notices your presence in the closet as well. His cheeks flush, and you are mortified. You must look like the definition of a hot mess. “Oh...Y/N… I thought your shift ended already?”

“Oh hey! It sure did!” You respond, sounding way too chirpy, pulling yourself up from the wall and towards Seokjin. You see out of the corner of your eye that Hoseok suppressing a laugh. How the fuck does he look completely unaffected and flawless, and you’re still trying to catch your breath? “I was just… making sure that we had enough supplies for next shift! There weren’t any laceration trays here earlier.”

He eyes the two of you wearily. “Okay… I guess so.” 

Hoseok shrugs, back to his cheery self leaving his dark, dominating persona behind, as though he had flipped a switch. “Hey, Jin!” He exclaims as he walks over to the resident. “Y/N was just telling me about her amazing case with the kid with appendicitis! It’s a shame I forgot to write down the abdomen exam findings though.” Seokjin looked over at you in confusion. “She said she would teach me a thing or two about being a good clinician whenever she got a chance,” Hoseok adds while giving you a look laced with hidden meanings. You wanted to kill him.

Hoseok clapped Jin on the back. “I’ll see you later, man,” and he saunters out of the closet. Seokjin looks at you for a moment, looks out the door at Hoseok, decides not to press any further questions, and turns around and out the door. Leaving you alone, still incredibly affected, confused, and pissed.

a/n: this is my very first fic in a loooooooooooong time!! i got hit with some inspiration recently and wanted to try my hand at writing again, and i really like how it turned out considering i’m kinda rusty hehe. i hope you enjoyed reading this, i’m planning on making it into a bit of a series with a few more parts. thank you so much for reading!!

[drx3-imagines]

angst/fluff of shizuo’s crush or s/o bringing him to shinra after he’s been hurt & just being super worried about him but he thinks it’s really sweet ?

Hey! This was really cute to write, and I hope I’m improving on s/o dynamics! I like to hope this blog has helped me polish my writing so any feedback from you guys is always appreciated!

A familiarhand took yours as you walked down the crowded road, passing a variety ofpeople going about their day. The adverts on the buildings were loud andintense, and you gripped Shizuo’s hand in an effort not to let him go. Itwasn’t often you went down Sunshine, so he insisted on sticking next to youevery time, grabbing onto your hand if needs be.

“Gee,guess it was a good idea to go out on a Sunday,” you dryly muttered toyourself, as you pushed past a group of schoolkids squealing over some newJ-pop merch. “Remind me again why we had to come here?”

“Youwanted to get some yakiniku, right? The best place for that is down one of theside roads.” Shizuo responded in a deep growl. You tutted at yourself formaking such a terrible decision, just for grilled meat. Even if grilled meatwas the best thing you had ever tasted.

You continuedweaving through the crowd, letting Shizuo guide you, his large hand coveringyour smaller one with a firm but gentle grip. His face was indifferent, but asmall crinkle was forming between his eyebrows in mild irritation. It seemedeven he wasn’t prepared for the amount of people on the road today.

“Shizuo,I think there’s something happening down there?” you pointed out to agathering that was more dense than normal, outside one of the shops. He grunteda little as he turned his head to study the group before making a soft tchnoise with his tongue.

“It’sjust a gang fight, nothing overly exciting.”

“Iwonder what they’re fighting over this time?” you asked innocently, whilstyou allowed yourself to be partly dragged away from the commotion.

“Whoknows. Probably some kinda shit.” Shizuo replied, before suddenly comingto a halt. You weren’t prepared for this, and kept walking until you nudgedinto his back like a wooden door. You rubbed at your nose, looking up toapologise before noticing his gaze at a couple of gang members who were makingtheir way up to him.

“YO,BARTENDER DUDE,” one of them hollered, giving a toothy grin as he held a baseballbat in a menacing pose. “I heard some of my buds got pretty beat up byyou. This true?”

You sensedShizuo bristling slightly at the accusation, before gesturing with his hand atyou to move behind him. You swallowed before complying, looking around to seethe immediate crowd of people around you stopping to see what would happen.After all, all the regulars knew Shizuo and his reputation, so seeing someoneboldly challenge him was a rarity.

“What’sda stony glare for, huh?” the thug’s sidekick leered. “It’s almostlike you want us gone?”

“Youain’t denying you did beat up our pals then huh? I heard they were doing somescouting here in Ikebukuro and then you went all apeshit on them.”

“Look,if I did, they were probably acting like shits themselves. Now, if yougentlemen don’t mind…” Shizuo growled through gritted teeth, and youcould sense a vein starting to pop in his forehead, as he turned to put a handon your shoulder, leading you away.

The next fewmoments were a blur. You had started to turn with Shizuo before you saw aflash, and the thug with the bat had swiped his arm down, connecting the shaftwith Shizuo’s back, at the very back of his head. A splintering noise as thebat shattered into pieces, and a shriek was heard by a schoolgirl and herfriends nearby as they watched the scene. You gasped as you grasped at Shizuo’sarm, watching him hiss at the sudden shock and the apparent pain. Your lipquivered at the sight of his shirt collar slowly turning red with blooddropping down from the fresh wound, and the sound of his heavy breathing as hefuriously turned to the two gang members, who were standing confused as to howhe was still standing.

“Youjust HAD TO GO and STICK YOUR FUCKING FOOT IN IT, DIDN’T YA?!” he roaredas the baseball grunt held his hand in defense, still clutching the brokenhandle of the bat.

“W-wait,what the hell? You were supposed ta-”

“Supposedto WHAT?! Here am I trying to get through so I can have a nice day out with mygirl, so PLEASE GO AHEAD and tell me what you think I’m supposed to do??!”

The sidekickgripped at his partner’s shoulder, his face white as a sheet as he watched therest of their members give in to the instinct to run from danger.“D-dude!” he yelped, as he watched Shizuo snatch out a hand to gripat his partner’s collar.

“Ifyou’re trying to interrupt me when I’m just trying to go about my day? YOU CANPISS THE HELL OFF!” Shizuo finished his angry yell, lifting the thug intothe air and swinging his arm, launching them into the air and into the crowd ofhis minions already fleeing, crashing into a lamp post with a resoundingrumble.

The sidekickstared at where he had been thrown, his mouth opening and closing like agoldfish, before he began to scream at Shizuo, and then run in the samedirection as his gang, like a dog with his tail between his legs.

You stood therefor a split second, sinking in what had happened. This wasn’t the first timeyou’d witnessed Shizuo’s anger, so you had gotten used to his violence, but youweren’t expected to see him bleed so easily. You grabbed at his arm, pullinghim with you.

“W…____?”Shizuo blinked at you. “What are you doing?”

“You’rehurt!” you said bluntly, as you tried to navigate out of the large crowdthat had gathered, their cellphones out trying to capture footage or photos fortheir networks.

“It’sfine, it’s just a small wound, it’s not like I’ve never been hit on the headbefore-”

“Thatdoesn’t make it ok!” you looked at him briefly, and he could see theconcern in your eyes and your still shaking stature. He softened and let youlead him out of the street.

***

“Oh, hello,____! And Shizuo, as well!” Shinra smiled warmly at his doorstep, havingopened the door to see the two of you. Shizuo had a bemused expression, whereasyours was more grave.

“Shinra,are you busy?” you immediately asked. “Shizuo got hurt, are you ableto take a look at it?”

“Wow,he must have got really beat if _____ is worrying about him,” Shinralaughed, stopping only at the noise of Shizuo’s low growl.

“Well,come on in and I’ll take a look.”You stepped into the apartment, still holding onto Shizuo’s hand, leading himin before sitting him on the sofa. You hadn’t looked at the wound since it hadbeen freshly made, and risked a check now, your stomach dropping at the sightof the bloodstain on his shirt and waistcoat, also tinging his blonde hair atthe back a wet red.

Shinra camebehind Shizuo and looked at the damage. “Hmm, that’s a definite traumawound with a blunt object.” he pondered.

“Youdon’t say.” Shizuo rolled his eyes.

“Ok,I’m gonna go get some soap and water, some dressing, aaaand some ice as wellfor any swelling. Be right back! Oh, you might want to take your shirt offthough,” Shinra laughed again as he made his way to his supplies.

Shizuosighed out, as if in exhaustion, and fixed an eye on you. You were still eyeingthe bloodstains.

“Comeon, ____. You’ve seen me bleed before.” Shizuo said softly, starting tounbutton his waistcoat. There were a few moments of silence as he took it off,and started to unbutton his shirt, whilst you looked to your lap.

“Icouldn’t do anything.”

Shizuoglanced at you, shirt half off. “What?”

“I juststood there and let them hurt you. I can’t do anything and now you’re hurt. Ijust freaked out and the first thing I thought was to bring you here, toShinra.”

You felttears well up in your eyes, a couple splashing down onto your lap. The familiarhand took yours again as the other cupped at your chin, pulling it up so youwere facing him.

“It’sok. I’ve gone through worse shit than this.” he smiled at you, strokingyour cheek a little. “But…thanks. I must admit, having someone worryabout me, like you do…is kinda cute.”

You blinkedat him a few times, trying to process how you crying over a traumatic incidentcould be considered as cute. But when you really thought about it, Shizuo hadspent so long pushing through mostly by himself, not really having a companionto worry over him and help when things like this happened. The best thing youcould do is watch over him.

“Don’tworry.” he wiped away at the tears rolling down your cheek. “I’m notgoing away anytime soon.”

“Youbetter not.” you sniffed, and he placed a small kiss on your nose.

“OH, Isee how it is! The doctor’s out the room so it’s time to be all lovey doveywith each other to make me jealous!” Shinra came back into the room andbrought a hand across his face in mock horror.

“I’mgonna kill him first.” Shizuo grumbled, his face back to his usualindifference, whilst you laughed out loud for the first time that day.

-Mel

[deepfriedtwinkie]

OKAY HEADCANON TIME HERE WE GO

TOO LAZY TO FIC PROPERLY, JUST GONNA TELL A STORY, GATHER ’ROUND, MY CHILDREN

THE AFTERMATH OF THE TEMPLE BATTLE:

Eggsy and Harry don’t bother trying to retrace their steps through the jungle. There are still active mines out there, and they don’t want to see anything they’ve left behind, anyway. They wait in “Poppy Land” for the Statesman transport to airlift them out of there (along with Elton fuckin’ John, fuckin’ Agent Feathers, and oh look, I have a headcanon about that too).

Once they’re back at Statesman HQ (and Elton has been taken to another room to be debriefed on the “official” version of the story of his rescue), Harry and Eggsy finally have a chance to catch their breath. They’re just completely fried, both ecstatic at their victory and devastated over Merlin. The debrief isn’t until the next day, so Harry gladly accepts Champ’s offer of a drink. Eggsy checks in on Tilde (she can't talk long, but they basically get back together right then and there before they hang up), and then wonders if this qualifies as his overdue chance to “shed a tear in private,” but Champ’s right there, so he decides it probably doesn’t.

Then Tequila swings by the room, having just been cleared and emerged from the infirmary, and says to the Kingsman, “Hey, if y’all fellas wanna see your pal Merlin, they got him all laid out in there.”

Eggsy immediately gets that darkened look. Nostrils flared, chin ready to take a punch. Pained. A little affronted, a little enraged. He takes a step forward. “S’that your idea of a fucking joke? That’s fucking sick,” he hurls at Tequila. (Against his will, he’s imagining what could possibly be left of Merlin to “lay out.” Half a torn-off arm and a bucket of guts, basically. Maybe a broken pair of glasses.) He’s ready to take another step, but he feels a hand curl protectively around his shoulder—Harry’s—so he stops, but his face is still a hurt bulldog’s, and it demands an explanation.

Tequila raises his palms, wondering a little bit why they’re so goddamned touchy. “I’m not pullin’ your saddle. Y’all didn’t know we sent in a salvage crew? In the rescue chopper. After we saw the firecracker on y’all’s glasses.”

NOW Eggsy’s stare has changed into something less stable, more wet-eyed. Harry’s is growing suspicious.

“Okay, I guess y’all didn’t know…….. Your buddy Merlin, he lost one hell of a lotta blood, and I guess they didn’t find nothin’ to recover from the pelvic down, but those suits y’all boys were wearin’ musta been somethin’. He’s in one piece besides that. Broken arm, burnt pretty bad, maybe a couple ruptured internals, but Ginger knows how to regenerate all’a that real quick. Concussion from hell, too, but….. Why, did y’all think he was dead?”

Cue Eggsy’s standing tears bolting their way out, Harry’s eyes widening, and the two of them exchanging a look—then RUNNING to the infirmary.

They basically crash into Ginger Ale. “Whoa, whoa whoa, slow down, he’s not stable enough for visitors yet. He’s not even awake, and he probably won’t be for a while,” she says. “He lost almost half his blood volume. And his legs, they just…they must’ve been vaporized, that close to the epicenter…. But we have something like the alphagel for fuller-bodied wounds. We were able to make a cap for him, so to speak, containing the severed vessels, we’ve got him on constant transfusion…..we’re macrotreating his third-degree burns and resetting his arm, those’ll be nonissues in a couple of hours…… Yes. He’s alive. But for now you can only see him through the two-way. He’s got a long way to go.”

And she deactivates the screen blocking the view through the two-way mirror. Eggsy and Harry look. And there, sure enough, is Merlin. Looking awful, scarred, singed, battered….but breathing. 

And then ofc Eggsy’s completely lost his ability to NOT cry, but somehow he manages to at LEAST not start completely bawling, and he grabs Harry’s sleeve as he stares through the window, and Harry squeezes his shoulder right back to let him know he’s there, but he can’t manage to form words at the moment either, and then My Sweet Boy babbles “And he’s gonna be alright, yeah? He’ll get better? You can fix him?”

And Ginger nods. “At this stage I wouldn’t make any specific promises, but….his vital signs look pretty remarkable considering the spectrum of his injuries. Give him a day or so for his body to adjust to the trauma and I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t wake up. And besides the amputation, most of the damage is fairly cosmetic. His appendix and one kidney did rupture, but that was no problem to take care of. It doesn’t take nearly as long for us to regenerate tissue as a civilian hospital. Prostheses will take much longer, depending on his preferences, but that doesn’t have to be done here, you all can—”

That’s probably about where Eggsy throws his arms around her, and she’s a little surprised, but she adjusts her glasses and hugs him back. “You saved him…. You saved Harry…. Thank you. You dunno what you’ve done….” 

Harry nods to contribute his thanks as well, a lump in this throat, and Ginger’s not all that used to praise or gratitude from anyone, but yeah, she DID do this, didn’t she…. “Well sure…. You’re welcome…. I’m just glad I could do anything at all….”

“I mean it, if there’s ever anything I can do for you, anything, I owe you at least that, you dunno how much….”

“All of Kingsman is in your debt,” Harry adds.

Then that’s probably when Eggsy pulls back and goes “How long ’til you think we can see him?”

“His core temperature was briefly superheated in the blast, so right now we’ve got the room climate-controlled to keep it down and make sure he doesn’t build a fever. I’d say by the time you guys finish the debrief he should be ready to transport on our medevac, so you can all go home together.“

So that’s precisely what happened: Merlin woke up shortly after the debrief and before being loaded into the plane, looked around confused for a moment, saw Harry and Eggsy, smirked weakly but still enough to punch you in the throat and said “Oh, fuck’s sake. This must be hell,” they laughed, and THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED SO SUCK IT VAUGHN

BONUS: 

Merlin just casually mentions later, while staring at Eggsy and Harry like they’re idiots, that “Our suits for the mission were lined with microcompressed frag vest material. I had them made specifically. Did I not mention that?” NO, NO THE FUCK YOU DIDN’T BUT CONGRATULATIONS YOU SAVED YOURSELF, GOOD JOB MOTHERFUCKER, YOU COULD’VE LED WITH THAT

[ihopeyourewell-blog]

Dear 25,

Dear 25,

My first vivid birthday memory is my 7th birthday party. I didn’t really have “friends” when I was 7, but I did have the girls in Mrs. Hudak’s 1st grade class. Mrs. Hudak was the meanest person I have ever met in my life. She would walk around the classroom and check to see if the inside of our desks were messy, and if your desk wasn’t tidy enough, she would flip it over in front of the entire class, throwing your books and belongings all over the floor. One time a boy’s desk was so messy, she flipped it over on top of him. He was 6 years old. Holy shit that was so fucked up!!! Luckily, she got knocked up and had to leave halfway through the year and was replaced by a straight up angel named Mrs. Hamski.

Even though I wouldn’t have considered any of the girls in 1C my friends (No one under the age of 12 has actual "friends", there are just people you play with. Friendship, much like the Real World, starts when people stop being polite and start getting real.), the trauma of Mrs. Hudak bonded us enough for me to invite all of them to a slumber party celebrating my 7th birthday. I was the first person to host a big sleepover in our grade, which, looking back on it, is insane because I wasn’t really cool enough to make such a bold social decision. I made the invitations on my family’s Gateway computer in some program that had invitation and greeting card templates (it would be so cool if I could remember the name of the program, but I friggin DON’T!). I would run home from the bus stop every day (the bus stop was literally outside of my house, so it wasn’t a far run. I don’t want you to overestimate the work I was putting in. I did have to run up my hilly driveway so there was a bit of effort, but not like a TON of effort. Ya feel?) to check to see if there were any messages on our answering machine from the mothers of my “friends” RSVPing to my party. Ugh I miss the days of telephone RSVPs. An answering machine RSVP was fun, but when it was a live action, directly speaking to someone’s mom on the phone RSVP, I felt like I was goddamn Miles Davis. It was truly a thrilling experience to check “yes” or “no” on the chart my mom had made for the party. Most of the girls had responded yes and I was very excited to show them my basement. My siblings and our Au Pair, Julia from Germany, had been working for months on drawing flags from every country and hanging them on the wall above one of the couches. I can’t imagine anything more exciting to a group of 6 and 7 year old girls than a wall of poorly drawn international flags.

I carefully picked out my outfit. I wanted to be cool and casual because I was in my own home, but I also wanted to look like the lost Olsen triplet. I think that's what every girl in the 90s was striving for. I decided on a long sleeve white shirt and velvet maroon overalls with a matching bucket hat. No shoes, just socks. I was ready to party!! Guests started arriving and it was the first time in my life I ever really felt cool. I am somewhat obsessed with being cool now, or just being perceived as cool, and I guess I can pinpoint it to that moment, that first taste of my own coolness. People thought my house was nice, and that my mom had ordered the right pizza and bought the right juices, and don’t forget I was wearing a velvet bucket hat INDOORS! I was a sleepover goddess giving these bitches the night of their freaking LIVES! We watched movies and played games that my mom and German Julia had organized. My brother and sister left us the FUCK ALONE and I wondered what shrine the girls in my class would make to honor the evening this sleepover made them all women.

On my perfectly designed invitation there were 2 options; you could come and be picked up at 9:30pm or you could spend the night (I guess there were 3 options, the 3rd being sucking ass and not coming at all). My mom figured that giving the option of leaving early would boost attendance for my party for the girls who weren’t comfortable sleeping over. I feel like I should mention that my mom got an almost perfect score on the SATs and is straight up brilliant, so of course she figured out how to maximize attendance at a 7 year old’s birthday party. Viva la my mom. At 9:30 half of the party left and the remaining warriors changed into our PJs. I wore a worn-in, white night gown covered in teddy bears, that I am pretty sure you could see my nipples through. I thought it made me look skinny (KNOCK, KNOCK! SOCIETY? You home? That is fucked up that a freshly 7 year old girl thought about how her body looked in pajamas in front of a group of girls. And this was BEFORE social media! Fix yourself please). A lot of girls asked my mom to use our house phone to call their parents to say goodnight. I remember the first time I slept at someone else’s house, I called my mom to do the same and she flat out said “why are you calling?” Damn. We watched a movie and then an episode of the Disney Channel Original Series So Weird. So Weird was kind of a spooky show and a lot of girls got freaked out, and 2 of them ended up calling their moms and going home. Up until this point, I had been so confident about how the party was going, but I began to worry everyone was going to go home. Luckily after the episode of So Weird finished, Christina Aguliera’s music video for “Reflection” from Mulan played on the Disney Channel, and everyone sang along, and I knew the party was still a hit.

The following Monday I went back to school and a few girls mentioned how much fun they had, but I kinda just went back to being the not so cool me. There was no first sleepover shrine built in my honor. Boys didn’t immediately start having crushes on me. No one asked if they could turn any of my replica flags into t-shirts. But it was an awesome birthday.

I’ve had a lot of incredible birthdays. My parents were amazing and threw me parties throughout my entire childhood. For my 9th birthday I had a party at an ice skating rink, and I made everyone watch me skate alone for an entire song. In 2005 my mom threw me a surprise 13th birthday at a kid’s dance club called Beat Street, and she threw the EXACT same surprise 13th birthday for my brother in 2003 and my sister in 2006. For my 14th birthday my mom took me to New York City to see Rent. For my 15th birthday my mom, once again, took me to New York City to see Rent. I had a massive country club Sweet 16 filled with mozzarella sticks and grinding. My 18th birthday was celebrated with a Jersey Shore themed keger in my basement (the wall of flags had sadly been removed by that point). I celebrated my 19th-23rd birthdays with some of my best friends in Chicago at the same restaurant year after year. For my 24th birthday I invited some of my closest gal pals to my apartment for a breakfast for dinner party and made everyone come dressed as me. I have been so lucky to have such incredible celebrations of my life, and even luckier for the people I’ve celebrated with.

I was so excited to turn 24. My birthday is January 24th, so turning 24 on the 24th meant it was to be my Golden Year. I had always thought "everything would happen” for me when I turned 24. I don’t know what I meant by everything, and I don’t know exactly what I thought would happen but looking back on my year everything and nothing simultaneously happened. It was a great year. Even my bad years have been great years.

25, I realize I have never thought about turning you. I’ve never really thought past turning 24. Like I said, I looked forward to turning 24 for my entire life because it was my Golden Year, but I’m realizing now that I never looked past that. I’ve thought about my life after the age of 24, but I didn’t think about turning another age. 25 sounds so much older than 24 to me. I know that sounds so silly, because 25 is still so young, but it’s a bit monumental, don’t you think? A quarter century! It feels steep and kind of weird. I am one of those people who gets a bit weird around their birthday. It’s funny, I love New Year’s Eve because I think the passing of time is so beautiful, but birthdays, specifically my birthday, scare me a bit. I guess I am okay with the world getting older, but not myself. For the week or so around my birthday, I almost mourn the loss of me at that current age. I will never be 24 again. 24 year old me is done. I had 366 days (hey, leap year!) to be 24, a full year to say “Oh, I’m 24”, and now I’m just not anymore. I don’t know why that makes me sad. I have a hard time saying goodbye to things. I have a harder time saying goodbye to people. I have to say goodbye to me at 24 and I’ll miss 24 year old me. And I know I’ll still be the same me at 25, but i just won’t be 24 anymore. This all makes so much sense to me and you’re probably just like “bitch, shut up and blow out your candles”.

This year I will turn 25 just four days after Satan officially becomes president. This year I will turn 25 on a cruise ship, the floating buffet I currently live on. This year I will turn 25 without any of my best friends to hug me or parents to throw me a party. This year I will turn 25 and have, quite possibly, my last year of good healthcare, because at 26 that shit is going bye-bye and who knows what the hell is going to happen. This year I will turn 25 and in 365 days I will mourn the loss of 25 year old me.

I never thought about turning you, 25, but it’s happening, just like every other age I have turned (and also all other humans and animals and trees and every fucking living thing has a birthday every year, even though I sound like an unreal narcissistic, whiney bitch making it seem like I am the only person  who has ever gotten older). It’s a little hard to be excited when our world is in such turmoil. So much is up in the air, and I’m kind of surprised that Mrs. Hudak wasn’t appointed to Trump’s cabinet to go around flipping desks on children throughout America. But even with all of the crap that is currently happening in the world, I am constantly in awe of the goodness within the people I love and admire, and I enter you (that sounds freaky and naughty) with confidence that 25 will be as good as every other year has been.

I hope you’re well.

Xoxo,

Jacqueline Felker