#and in like 15 seconds four people come rushing into the room carrying tubes and bags and hauling some big machine

[cinnamonest]

missed ur writing sm glad ur better

Thank you!! It has honestly been miserable the past month, this has been the worst and most terrifying medical experience of my life.

In almost 26 years I've never been allergic to anything, not even pollen/seasonal allergies, and all of a sudden I'm swollen all over gagging for breath, my fingers and feet and lips turned purple, I couldn't walk, my face looked like a pufferfish... then it came back again and again so I had to keep going back to the hospital. Apparently I had a "prolonged viral reaction" (I didn't even know that was a thing), so even after the worst was over, I was covered in hives for weeks.

Whatever the allergen was, I pray to God I never encounter it again.

[magalidragon]

Birthday Signs | a Silent Shadows drabble

HAPPY BELATED NAME DAY TO @aenarsnow !!! Here is your gift I hope you like it! A family fluff fic that totally spoils Silent Shadows but oh well we all knew where that fic was going! 🤣 This will be set between the soon to be posted chapters 14 and 15.

The familiar, early morning strobe light flashed behind Jon's closed eyelids, which fluttered up, taking in the sight of the phone on his nightstand, flashing next to a glass of water, his watch, a book, and a very new addition to the random detritus that scattered from his pockets when he emptied them out on the worn wooden stand.

A baby monitor.

He smiled at it and reached for the device, lifting it up to his ear. It was a very expensive model, one that Robb had purchased for them at the baby shower, which vibrated at the level of sound coming from the nursery. It did not help as much during the night, when he could not feel the vibrations from the nightstand, but he was very attuned to the shifting movement of the mattress and when he felt Dany move at his side, he was up immediately.

This morning it was silent, as was she, hugging Shadow against her chest, the great black wolf fast asleep between them, like a strange wiggling body pillow. He ruffled Shadow's ears and got up, shuffling around Ghost, who popped up quickly. He knelt at his companion's side, nuzzling his nose and stroking along his side, shivering at the feeling of the raised scar underneath the regrown white fur.

It was near a year ago, but he could have lost him. He signed to his wolf, speaking, his throat muscles constricting and vocal cords vibrating, attuning him to his spoken words even if he could not hear them. "You can't leave me, not yet," he said, smiling down at him. He kissed Ghost's head, coming up to his feet and lightly touching the middle of the wolf's back, Ghost walking beside him through the house and to the room across the hallway.

It was still somewhat dark outside, sun creeping up above the horizon, the sky a mottled purple, blue, and black as the light fought the dark back to sleep. The trees were dusted with a fresh layer of snow, courtesy from the storm the evening before. It was one of his favorite times of the year, just after a snowfall. It was a twisted sense of awareness, knowing that when people stepped out into the powder, everything was muffled, all sound smothered out. It was his entire life and for some reason made him oddly satisfied knowing others could sense the same thing he did.

He didn't know what the day would hold-- that depended on whether Dany would try to surprise him or not-- which he hoped definitely not. He hated surprises. Really saw no reason in having anything of the sort. All he wanted was to have his day to himself, as usual. Once morning was done in the house, he would go to his wolves. He was eager to see if Rifle and his pack had welcomed the new wolf who showed up a couple weeks ago, edging nervously into the territory. The wolf was certainly not an alpha contender, but could support the pack with hunting. He suspected they'd be fine, after he'd sat with the wolf for a time and then released him into Rifle's area, thinking they'd go on alright.

After that, there'd be some paperwork no doubt, and he'd stop at Winterfell to inspect Summer's eye infection. Gods only knew how he got that one. Summer tended to just fall into mishaps, just like his owner.

Until then, he would be with his favorite person in the entire world. Save Dany.

Although for all the love he held for Dany, she did not hold a candle to the love he felt for the wiggling little body in the crib, gazing up at him with wide eyes when he leaned over, greeting her with a tickle on her tummy. He signed to her, wanting her to learn as soon as possible, even at the tender age of ten months. "Good morning," he signed, smiling down. He leaned in and lifted her up, chuckling.

The baby did not react to his chuckle, instead squealing-- he felt her chest constrict against his-- she beat her fists on his shoulder and took a handful of his t-shirt, shoving it into her mouth. He nuzzled her head, eyes closing briefly, swaying from side to side. She rarely cried, but when she did, he might not be able to hear it, but it broke his heart. He savored these moments when it was just them, before the rest of the day started.

He carried her over to the changing table, resting her on it gently, smiling as she babbled to him, her fingers moving up. He nodded along, whatever she was saying was very important, he was sure, and he removed the hearing aids from their charger. She whined, not liking it when they first went in, obviously the plastic uncomfortable after an entire night being without, but she soon got used to them. It broke his heart, to see the heavy plastic behind her delicate ear, the tube and wire leading into her ear canal, but once it was in, once he flicked that little switch behind it, her eyes lit up, an entire world shut off to her in the night now at her disposal.

It was something he'd never know, so he was grateful her deafness could be rectified, at least for a time, and she would know the joy of her parents' voices-- such as his was he thought darkly-- the barks and howls of Ghost and Shadow and everything else the world could offer her.

Aly waved her hands again and very carefully, he moved her fingers into the sign, the fingers folded and the thumb out to the side and dragged it from her temple, down to her chin. "Daddy," he said, hoping she could understand.

She waved her hand again and he did it a few more times. She was very young, but anything they could do, the doctors and specialists said, would help her. Babies learned languages by doing. WSL was just another language. Same as Common Tongue or Valyrian, which Dany used with her.

Their baby would be trilingual by the time she was in preschool, Jon thought with a chuckle, lifting her up from the table once both her hearing aids were in and on. She'd quieted, her dark brow eyes wide, searching. Alysanne had almost black hair, but the largest green eyes, which he really loved. They tended to show her reaction before her face to anything.

Just like the day they first had her fitted for them, the audiologist warning that it might take some time, but when they came on, when Dany first said her name, the little girl freezing and then smiling, laughing at the sound of her mother's voice for the first time, Jon almost died there from sheer joy. Such an unfamiliar feeling for him.

He signed for her. "It's my birthday." He was thirty-five. He'd been (officially) with Dany going on three years now. Married for two. Parents for four months. How things had changed from the time when he thought he was fine, living alone in his house with his wolves, content to never speak to another human being again. Even with Arya, sometimes he never opened his mouth, preferring sign over trying to speak.

It was his first birthday as a father, he thought, nuzzling Aly's thick dark hair, carrying her out of her room and to the stairs, Ghost trotting behind them. She wiggled her fingers at Ghost,squealing. He licked her foot, walking ahead of them to lead their entry to the kitchen, where he stopped hard, catching Dany.

She must have been preoccupied, because she didn't turn around, fussing with something on the counter. Balloons wafted up near the ceiling and she'd draped streamers around the kitchen cabinets. He smiled, glancing at Ghost, who chuffed, continuing ahead to nose Dany. It didn't necessarily matter, because at the sight of her mother's silver hair and Shadow, Aly let out a squeal, waving her hands for her.

Dany whirled around, laughing and rushing to him, eyes a little foggy from sleep. "Happy Birthday!" she signed, reaching up to kiss him and grinned. She fell back on her feet and took Aly, nuzzling her. "And good morning!"

"What's this?" he signed, walking up to see that she had coffee set out and doughnuts. He chuckled, noting the wolf bun she must have asked specially from Hot Pie's Bakery. He picked up one of the couple presents sitting beside the pastries and coffee, setting it down to sign. "YOu didn't need to get me anything."

"Yes I did," she signed, adept now at keeping Aly hoisted on her elbow while she used her free hands to sign. She grinned, speaking now, because Aly was wiggling in her arms. "It is your birthday Jon."

He shrugged; it was just a day. He kissed her again, because Dany should be kissed often, in his opinion, and he was happy to oblige her. While she prepared Aly's breakfast, he sipped his coffee and wondered what his presents were. He really didn't need anything. Most all he wanted was for the sanctuary. He finished some of his coffee and signed to her, when she caught his attention. "Taking Ghost and Shadow out."

She nodded, focusing on Aly in the moment. Jon signaled for Shadow to follow, which he did, jumping up and running ahead and outside, the second the door opened to the yard. He pulled on one of the heavy parkas near the door and shoved his bare feet into boots, trudging into the snow to wait for the wolves to finish whatever it was they needed to do. It gave him a few minutes to clear his mind, inhale the cold air, and be in his preferred element.

Not being able to hear, he had heightened senses otherwise. Arya joked he had a super power. It was what he told the deaf children who came to the sanctuary to sit with the wolves. They had a superpower, they could see and smell, they could sense better than anyone else with hearing. He closed his eyes, smelling the pine and fresh snow, the smoke from the chimney. Even the wet wolves, both of them bounding around together. He rummaged in his pocket for the laser pointer, flicking it in front of Shadow, the wolf instantly turning and running up to the house, signalled to come in.

As it was still a regular day, he planned to finish up coffee and breakfast, dress, and head into the sanctuary. There were things to do. He stomped off snow once inside, found Dany feeding Aly, cutting up little pieces of a croissant for her. Somehow Aly already had jam all over her face. He signed, laughing. "Someone is having fun."

"Too much fun," Dany signed back. Jon studied them both, marveling at how things had changed again. He caught Dany's eye and she smiled, shrugging. She signed, "What is it?"

"Nothing," he signed. He shrugged, easily signing something that came so difficult for him before he met and realized that there was more out there, Dany helped him see it. He folded his fingers together. "I love you."

Her face wrinkled into a smile, brow furrowed to keep from crying. She reached for him, when he went over to her and hugged his arm, wrapping around her shoulders and chest from behind, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I love you too," she mouthed, kissing his cheek.

Aly flung a piece of croissant at them, shouting. "Ah!"

"I love you," he signed to her, kissing her head. He waited a moment, lightly stroking her hair. This birthday was different, he felt that in his bones. Even when he'd come to an understanding regarding his feelings for Daenerys, struggling with his emotions and history and being a father, he didn't know until he held Aly in his arms. They could go through so many rounds of IVF, sitting in the doctor's office, crying in each other's arms with each negative pregnancy test, and exhausted mentally and physically. Their relationship suffered.

Then Aly came into their world. It didn't matter if the baby was from their blood, she needed them and she was their daughter. Just like Ned had been his father. He knew that it would be a struggle; Aly would have her own struggles with her deafness, as he did with his, but looking back on his initial thoughts-- he was mad. Aly would hear him-- she'd hear his laugh, his voice, and while it might not be like anyone else's, it was his and he was her father.

He kissed her again and went upstairs to change. Ghost came with him. HIs shadow. Just like Shadow was Aly's shadow. He couldn't help her from the same perspective that Ghost could, but she loved him and he helped her with what he could. Both of them being deaf, not always a great combination, ignoring everything but each other. Which could actually be pretty sweet.

When he finished dressing and came out of the bathroom, he was surprised to find Dany sitting in on eof the chairs by the fire, the embers glowing from the previous evening. They'd enjoyed themselves quite a bit last night, the fire merely providing ambiance-- they'd provided the heat. He sat down on the chair arm, kissing her head, signing. "What's wrong?"

"Open your gift."

"Where is Aly?"

"Over there." He glanced at the bed, seeing Aly caged in by Shadow, using him as a pillow while she played with one of her stuffed animals, ignoring them both. Dany poked him and handed him a small wrapped gift. "Open this please."

"I can open gifts later. I should get to the sanctuary."

She shook her head, chewing her bottom lip. "Please open this."

Jon didn't know what had her so nervous, or insistent, so he slipped into the chair, pulling her into his lap. Her legs slung over his knees, she watched him open the box. He thought maybe it was jewelry, which was weird because he only wore a watch and even then he often kept it in his pocket. He opened up the slim white box and pushed by tissue paper, staring, eyes widening in understanding.

It was a pregnancy test.

He was accustomed to those; he'd been at her side through four negative ones over the last couple years. Except this time, it wasn't negative. There was a very obvious plus sign. He turned to gaze down at her, silently questioning. She was already crying and nodded. "Yes," she said clearly. "I'm pregnant."

The only word he could croak out was: "How?"

She laughed, wiping quickly at her eyes and set the test down on the table next to them. Taking his hands, she pressed them under her sweater, to the swell he now felt in her lower abdomen, which he couldn't believe he didn't feel last night or notice before. So much for super senses. “The usual way," she laughed. She kept his hands on her warm belly and signed quickly. "Mel said it happens. Couples adopt and then get pregnant and there's no explanation. I was so scared something would happen that I waited. I am sorry, but I wanted to wait. I'm sixteen weeks."

That was four months. He knew that they weren't completely out of the woods, but the risk lessened now. He pressed his head to hers, removing his hands and cupping her face, bringing her to him for a long, slow kiss. His heart was so full, it threatened to strangle him. It was all silent; his heart racing in his head, his breath coming in deep gulps. More than once he wished he knew what she sounded like, wanted to hear her voice. He trusted it was as beautiful as her.

The sign worked too. It meant as much to him as the words in English would be.

They broke the kiss, Dany laughing again. "Happy birthday. Daddy."

He grinned. "Daddy," he said, the words hard for him to wrap his mind and his tongue around. It was foreign, the word not something he ever wanted to hear or say. He could no longer imagine a world where that was not a word in his vocabulary. It took a long way to get there; however, and he credited Dany for that. He signed for her, knowing hse understood. "Not without you."

The tears trickled down her face again. He kissed them away, holding her to him, and briefly thought to the first moment they met. That haughty look on her face, shouting at him, trying to touch Ghost-- who was just as amused at her as he was-- apologizing over herself. Then angry, for no apparent reason. He fucked with her on purpose then, because her reaction was so...different. He never intended to see her again.

And he did. Even trying as hard as he could to push her away, not get involved, there she was.

His shadow.

A shadow he could not hear, always at his side, in his way. Silent, silver shadow.

He could never be without her again, he thought, getting up long enough to get Aly, who was ripping at her stuffed animal. She looked up, when Dany said her name, and smiled. He kissed the shell of her ear, just beside the hard plastic aid. "You are going to have a brother or sister," he said to her. He didn't know if she understood him. It didn't matter, but she looked up and touched her fingers to his lips, smiling wide and began to babble.

Dany laughed again, tossing her hair over her shoulder, meeting his gaze again, pure love shining at him. She signed, fingers a blur. "Happy birthday my love, I hope you like your gift."

Not a gift, he thought, nodding and squeezing them both against him. Ghost and Shadow both flopped down together, black and white piles of fur. Jon closed his eyes and sighed, listening to his heart and feeling the other two under his hands. And maybe, just maybe, a third.

FIN

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part two Word count: ±1550 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part two summary: Zoë wakes up from another horrific flashback and tries to put the pieces together. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​, @kittenofdoomage​​ & @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Paragould, Arkansas      November 25th, 2005 - Present day

     Gasping for air Zoë bolts upright in her bed. Breathing heavily, she stares at the wall in front of her, her eyes wide. It takes a moment before it settles in what just happened. Chill, take a breath, it was just another vision. 

     She swallows thickly, fighting the panic that got triggered. Closing her eyes, she inhales and lets the air slip from her lips, counting the seconds as she does so, waiting until her heart slows down. Exhausted she falls back on her pillow, worn out by the terrible night’s sleep. Fuck, that was worse than a bad trip. She feels like she just got out of a car crash; beat, sore, and confused. The restless dream has covered her skin in a thin layer of sweat and yet she feels stone cold. 

     A gaze at the clock on the cabinet informs her of the time, it’s 7:15 in the morning. She huffs, and she had hoped to sleep in. The familiar migraine pushes itself to the foreground and she squints; wonderful, just what she needed. 

With her eyes still half closed, she does her best to ignore the golden morning light coming from the tall windows. After throwing her legs over the side of the king size bed, she walks over to the luxurious bathroom; time to freshen up and at least come across as respectable again. 

     Every time she wakes up from one of these damn things, she’s unprepared for the blinding pains and black spots, even though she has experienced them plenty of times before. She's not really sure why she's still surprised by the effects, the aftermath has been very consistent so far. 

     Without looking at the faucet - her eyes narrowed to shut out the beams coming from the ceiling lamp - the huntress turns it on, the hot water steaming up the large mirror. She takes off her shirt and shorts and quickly finds comfort under the warm shower. As soon as the droplets hit her skin, a feeling of relief and relaxation washes over her. 

     Now that she’s getting back to her old self again, the tiredness sets in. How long did she sleep, an hour or two, maybe? After an exhausting eight hour drive - including a quick shower stop to get rid of the smell she was still carrying with her after her previous case - she finally arrived in Paragould. She checked into the first four star hotel she could find, got out of her clothes, and crashed on the bed. 

     As the warm water cleanses her, Zoë starts to take out the details of the images that she just saw during her sleep. It was the same dream she had the night before, the setting identical. She concentrates and brings back the memories she has been playing over and over in her head.

     “- that’s good news for the locals down there, let’s see if Brian can give us some positive news about the weather.”      “Well Julia, that I can. Looks like it’s going to be another sunny day in Greene County tomorrow. Clear blue skies, a mild, refreshing breeze from the southwest and a temperature of, brace yourself, 83° average, which is rather warm for this time of the year. Even when we look further up this week, it seems like this mild weather just keeps on going. Great circumstances for September and fall isn’t coming to Arkansas any time soon.”

     She could hear it so clear in her dream, the six o'clock weather forecast of the local TV station, somewhere September this year. After some research she found Greene County, in the far north east of the State of Arkansas. Over 38.000 people live in this county, with Paragould as its metropolitan area with a population of almost 25.000. Besides the fact that it seemed obvious to take a look in the largest city first, for some reason when that name appeared on her computer screen, she just knew this was where she needed to go. 

     Zoë turns off the shower and steps on the warm rug outside the cabin, after which she grabs a clean towel from the drying frame. For a second she glances at the stitched bullet wound next to her bellybutton, an injury which she suffered almost two days ago; it’s healing fine. With a second towel folded around her head and the other tightened around her chest, she walks out into the main room. It is a lot better than the previous motel; the colors are fresh and the room spacious. The furniture dissipates class, an abstract painting on the wall that could have been a Picasso only adding to that. 

     Now that the bad headache finally starts to fade, she can face the sunrise outside. Even though the temperature isn’t as high as it would be during July or August, the forecast hints for a lovely autumn day, even this late in the year. It’s just now that Zoë sees the cemetery in the distance. She chuckles; she sure picked her spot. 

     As she scans her environment, her thoughts wander off to Sam. She’s not exactly sure why she can’t stop thinking about him, but she has a hunch. Her dreams, his dreams, their dreams. Zoë was quite surprised when Sam mentioned he has been having nightmares, it got even weirder when she learned that he dreams about bad things happening to people, and it became scary when she realized his dreams actually come true. Familiar? Just a little, but not entirely, though. Sam apparently sees things that are about to happen, while she herself sees what already has. Zoë can’t help but wonder how it’s possible that two complete strangers have these visions, not to mention the chances of those two people meeting. Think about it; what if they are not the only ones?     A sigh escapes from her lips; there was a time that she could barely picture seeing the past or the future to be possible. What a weird world they live in. 

     She turns around and gazes at her messy bed for a moment. It seems to invite her back in and she would gladly like to crawl under those warm covers again and sleep some more. Then again, what’s the use if she’s going to wake up an hour later with the exact same images in her head, feeling just as horrible as she did a moment ago? She needs to charge her battery, though, able to count the number of hours she slept last week on two hands. No human being can keep this up, and if she wants to make good time on this case, she needs to be awake. 

     Contemplating, Zoë glances at the suitcase, custom made to fit the saddle bag of her Harley. After pulling the towel from her head and drying her hair with it, she tosses it on the bed and walks over. The huntress picks up the case and lays it on the bed, taking out her neatly folded clothes until she sees the lining. She folds back the seam, exposing a small zipper. Staring at the hidden pocket, she bites her lip. The doctor she was meant to be says she’s out of her fucking mind, but let’s face facts here: she’s running out of fuel. Just one line, she tells herself, taking out the little zip bag, containing a pinkish powder. Just to kick start this day and get this job over with.

     It’s not cocaine, nor is it meth; she’s not that suicidal. But a dose of amphetamine sulphate, otherwise known as speed, will give her the rush she needs and help her focus, despite the sleep deprivation. 

     Having done this numerous times already, Zoë takes the small mirror from the back of her suitcase and lays it down on the side table. She crushed the crystals at home already, powder taking up less space. Carefully, she tips what she estimates to be half a gram onto the reflecting surface, closing the bag before taking a scalpel blade and a short straw from the same secret compartment, tearing it out of the plastic. Skillfully, she chops the small particles and sweeps them into a line of about three inches with the blade. Holding one side of her nose closed and placing the straw up her other nostril, she positions the tiny tube at the end of the line and chases it, inhaling the drug swiftly. Zoë kicks back her head and takes a deep breath, feeling the chemicals prick between her eyes as her sinus cavity absorbs the amphetamines. She sniffles and wipes her nose, getting to her feet to clean up. 

     It will take a moment for the drugs to kick in, but when it does, she knows she will feel unstoppable and sleep will be the last thing on her mind. Deep down she’s walking a dangerous path, but isn’t that all she does? She’s a hunter for fuck’s sake; life doesn’t get more dangerous than that. Honestly, she stopped caring a long time ago. Death is inevitable, and with her lifestyle it’s going to be sooner than later. She might as well live on the edge and have some sweet nose candy along the way.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter three here

[san-sebastian]

ON ‘LUCK’ AND MY TRIP TO SYNDEY

I’d like to start off by acknowledging the fact that I am lucky. This might sound counterintuitive, but I am. For instance, I’m lucky that I have the privilege to travel to Sydney on a year abroad from London.  I’m lucky to have a strong network of support to help me out at a time like this. I’m lucky I like Indian food (more on this later). Nevertheless, the fact that one is lucky doesn't exclude the possibility of unlucky things happening to them. And holy shit have I had unlucky things happen to me in the past few days. 

July 25th, 2019. Everything seemed in order for me to travel to Sydney. I had arrived in London to find my two packed suitcases laying intact in my room, which had been cleaned. All that was left for me to do was to officially move out, get a new phone, and see my closest friends in London for the last time in a year. By 15:30, I was ready to go. In a state of sadness, nervousness, and anticipation, I took the Piccadilly line from Finsbury Park to Heathrow Terminal Two. One could argue that this is where things started to go wrong. Sure, you could also claim it was the fateful day I decided to book my itinerary to Sydney via Zurich on the 25th of July, or the day I applied for a year abroad in Sydney. You can always trace it back and pinpoint it anywhere you find convenient. But for the sake of simplicity, let's just say things started to go wrong on the Piccadilly Line from Finsbury Park to Heathrow Terminal Two. 

It didn't come as a surprise that the tube was delayed, and I knew I should have given myself more time. I told myself: ‘Everything will be fine if things run smoothly at the airport!’. It was too loud on the tube to hear the mocking reply: ‘Hah! As if!’. I made my way to the check-in desk - the first of four journeys to the same check-in desk. In my first journey, my bag was overweight by 1 (one) kg. They wouldn't let me through. I took out some essentials and repacked. In hindsight, this actually saved my ass. Once again, in some way, I was ‘lucky’ - even though I didn't know it in the moment. In my second journey to the check-in desk, I was told I was on standby and as a consequence couldn't pay for an extra bag. I made my way to the queue for the ticket desk in order to sort this out, but it was massive. I realised check-in closed in 10 minutes, and I wouldn't make it on my flight if I waited my turn. I see now how ironic that is. I explained my situation to a Heathrow official, who passed it on to his colleague, who passed it on to another colleague, who finally passed it on to what appeared to be an important employee at Heathrow check-in. ‘They’re new here’, she said to me apologetically. In my third journey to the check-in desk, she wavered my extra bag and let me through. I was on my way to the plane, which was delayed. All good! For now. 

It’s always reassuring when you're in a rush at the airport and your plane is delayed. You think that things are working in your favour. That is, until you’re sitting in the plane and the pilot announces that operations has cancelled the flight due to impending storms coming North across the English Channel. I didn't believe it at first. My two connecting flights, one waiting for me at Zurich and the other in Singapore - both missed. My flight to Zurich might as well have said Sydney, and it was cancelled. In situations like these, there's really nothing you can do. Hence, my fourth and final journey to the same dreaded check-in desk. I was rebooked on a flight for the next day, at 21:30. ‘It’s not ideal, but it could be worse’, I thought. I was naive to trust the black hole that is the airport administration system. 

Back on the Piccadilly Line, 24 hours later. Round Two. I learnt from my mistake and gave myself ample time to sort everything out at the airport. Specifically, I wanted to know if my bags would be sent to Sydney, as I hadn't checked them in again. I asked three different people, and they all assured me it would be fine.  I felt quite satisfied, as I had managed to get a free bag, and I didn't even have to carry my ~50 Kg of luggage back and forth from the airport a second time. Finally, things were looking up. I boarded my flight on my new itinerary with Air India. All I can say about my journey across the world is that I’m lucky I like Indian food because that’s all I ate for 24 hours. 

Honestly, I wasn't surprised when my two bags, essentially carrying my whole life and everything I own, didn't show up on conveyer belt 15 at Sydney Airport. I wasn't surprised, but I couldn't accept it. I couldn't cry. I was so exhausted, angry, and upset that all I could was go find someone and file my lost baggage report. Later on, I reported it to Air India, and also filed a fat complaint with Swiss. As of today, it’s been three days and I still haven’t gotten my bags back. I tried calling but my phone won’t dial International numbers for some reason. Shit has really hit the fan, as they say. All I can hope for is that they aren't lost forever. I’m just really hoping that at least one thing in this mess of a move to Sydney can go right. 

AFTERWORD

If this experience has taught me anything, it’s that luck is relative. Sure, these events were unlucky in the moment in which they occurred. However, what was unlucky once can turn out to be lucky in the future, and vice versa. For instance: had my bag not been overweight, I would never have removed valuable items like my laptop charger and my speaker, which would have cost me a lot of stress and a lot of money to replace. I didn't know it at the time, but now I know that in that moment, I would be lucky. That’s exactly what keeps me going. Right now, I feel unlucky. I feel like shit. But maybe this will create new experiences, in which the net outcome will end up with me considering myself lucky that I missed my flight, got re-booked on Air India, and lost my bags. Speculatively, say something had happened to the flight LX176 from Zurich to Singapore which caused it to crash. That’s quite extreme, but in that case my cancellation at Heathrow would have been a blessing. Sure, I can be angry when something bad or unlucky happens to me, but I have to remember that I never know what is going to happen. They say the most important thing in life is death, but I would argue its death coupled with the uncertainty of our future. If we lose either one, we’re fucked.  

I know I sound like a pretentious teenager who thinks he’s Aristotle. I obviously didn't come up with these concepts myself, in fact this whole thing on luck being relative is well defined, and I thought about it after seeing a video posted by a friend, very timely, on my facebook feed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGVhOWqsBWM. 

Finally, this all makes me wonder: what is luck? Surely it’s just a collection of random chance coincidences and events which we give meaning to once we link them together in hindsight. That sounds pretty simple, but it carries a greater implication: that we will never know the real magnitude of any event, ‘lucky’ or ‘unlucky’, that we experience. Our luck only runs out when we die. In that case, could be something more? Fate? Destiny? I guess if you believe in that, it is. 

[jaggedheartstrings]

Spread Your Wings (and leave me behind) || Chapter 7

Read on AO3: HERE

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: 

Natasha Antonia Stark was a thriving scientist in the 1940's. Alongside her brother, Howard, they build a whole world of technology and science for themselves.

Up until a fatal night in 1947.

She was announced dead in 1949.

* * *

Toni wasn’t going anywhere with him as long as she had anything to do about it.

“I was hoping to do this the easier way, but the best ones do put up the best fight at first, don’t they?”

It was the last thing she remembered before darkness overtook her.

-

Chapter 7: Break Me Free From the Spell

2002, Siberia

The whole base shook as the explosion shredded the bottom floors.

Someone had caused an automatic detonation. Despite that the scientists and soldiers ran around the floors, searching for the culprit. Not that they’d find him. Or they would but couldn’t report back. The pile of bodies behind him was growing by the second as the idiots tried to take him on.

James was bored.

They didn’t even put up a good fight. Punch or two and they were out like lights. Apparently, Hydra was slipping in their training. But then again not everyone was a brainwashed super soldier.

A dust cloud fell from the roof every few minutes. The explosions were rising higher by the minute. There were about 15 floors below the surface, a few on top. He had cleaned at least nine by now, though he wasn’t counting. The few people that had been in the base had scattered into forests above long by now. James hoped that Steve and Clint had been able to pick them off. They’d insisted on coming along, though had remained up top per his request.

Natalie had disappeared somewhere as soon as they’d entered with the promise of getting all the data the base might have. While James had no doubt about her abilities, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with a rogue Black Widow if she decided this wasn’t really her scene anymore.

They’d met Natalie about six months after SHIELD approached James and Steve with a special team. They wanted their help in wiping possible Hydra bases. The bastards were showing up more and more often. It was expected, James had been well aware of the infestation SHIELD had. The team, Avengers -bit much in his opinion-, had been a ‘reward’ for their gracious help. The organization funded and outfitted them.

The four of them weren’t much, but they were all trained spies, killers or military men. They knew how to work around low numbers and low supplies. Steve had always been partially good at strategizing with not having much on his side.

“James. I have all the data,” the Widows voice rasped over the comms. “Gotta go before we’re all blown to bits.”

“Yeah, give m’ a minute,” he replied. “There’s cryo chambers here.” James’ realization caused a jolt of panic through him. Cryo chambers were never a good thing. He knew there was a possibility of them being here as the base was one of the largest ones in Russia. He’d been held here once.

“Cryo?” Steve’s cry echoed through the comms. “Get out of there!”

“You know I have to check this,” James growled back in a low voice. “It could be nothin’. But we won’t know without lookin’.”

“It could be not nothing!” Steve’s voice was anguished. “What if there’s someone there who is not in cryo?”

“Steve. He’s right. It needs to be checked,” Natalie argued back. James knew better than to listen to Steve’s complaints. The blonde seemed to think he hadn’t survived over half a century of torture.

Gun raised high, James stepped into the circle shaped room. The roof was raised high, many floors up. In the middle of the room was a chair. He felt the shiver go through him at the fear and pained the memories arose. He flicked his gaze to the right. He was right.

Three cryo chambers fitted the wall. The wires and tubes rode up the walls, high towards where the command center would be. The three tubes were dark, the panel in front of them showing the tubes had no signs of life. Dead. Possibly for years.

Turning around he found the source of the light hum. One of the three tubes on the left had a yellow light. One of them was alive. James exhaled roughly. Slowly walking to wards the tube, he tapped his comm. “The cryo chambers are inactive, except for one.”

“Inactive?” Steve questioned incredulously.

“Yeah. The sensors show they’ve died in their sleep,” James answered, an unreadable tone in his voice. “The only one active has been inside since- only 1995.”

“I know it’s been a while, but do you recognize them?” Steve’s voice held a tone f understanding. He wasn’t expecting James to know. But he had trained most of the Winter Soldier 2.0’s as Clint referred to them. Despite that he couldn’t help but hesitate for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked from the control panel towards the lonesome tube. He knew the person inside couldn’t wake up without the system being closed. As long as the computer ran so did the tube. And as long as the tube ran so did the never-ending dreamless sleep. The sharp gasp was audible to the rest of the team. Instantly all three were asking what it was.

“Oh, God,” James breathed out. He hadn’t seen her since the 70’s.

“James!” Steve shouted to get his attention. “Do you recognize them? Are they a threat?”

The Winter Flower was a threat, alright. He knew the extent of her abilities, but he’d believed she’d been dead or escaped. Their first and last moment together as something other than the Asset and the Companion had been brought a tragic ending. She’d been dragged from him upon return, kicking and screaming. She’d killed two of the men trying to take her from him. He’d killed four of the ones holding him back. They’d forced him to watch as they ripped her own free will away in the very chair behind him.

“I-I didn’t know,” James ground out in a broken voice.

“James.” Clint’s urgent voice rang through his ears and that was enough to raise suspicion. Clint was the one who usually joked through the missions. With a start he realized Clint had barely even spoken. “The explosions are going to reach your floor in two minutes, max.”

“дерьмо!” James spat out. Snapping out of his thoughts, he rushed to the console. With a few buttons the tube hissed viciously as it opened. He knew it would take a while for her to wake up if not woken up with force. With that in mind he threw her over his shoulder like a rag doll.

 *

 “You brought them with you?” Steve asked, his tone slightly higher than normal. His face was twisted in disbelief and anger. Natalia’s face was a closed mask of indifference, but James knew she was reading his every move in a try to understand why he would take a potentially dangerous soldier. Clint was staring at the limp body on his shoulder like it’d bite his head off when touched.

“Steve,” James’ voice is pleading. “I had to.” He doesn’t elaborate, and when the anger starts sliding off Steve’s face at the all too desperate voice, he knows he doesn’t have to.

“You’re in love with her.” The statement startles the three men, the limp woman almost dropping from James’ shoulders. Natalia has crossed her arms over her chest. Steve keeps glancing between James, the limp body and Natalia.

“I-,” James paused, looking for the correct words. “I do. She was with me for forever. I haven’t seen her since- since the 1970’s. We were hiding in these very forests. We wanted to be together-,” he swallowed harshly and shook his head. “They took her when we returned and made me watch how she forgot everything. I thought she’d died or escaped.”

“The Winter Flower and The Winter Soldier,” her words hanged in the air, a thick cloud. “She was at the red room.” James’ head snapped up and he saw Steve shift uneasily. Punk was uncomfortable with all their pasts. “I think she sort of kept my head above the red haze. I returned from one of my missions, only to find her missing in 1995. They called her back when they found you.” She turned towards Steve.

After a beat of silence Steve announced, “we need to head back. They’ll be expecting a report in a few days.” James couldn’t help the rising panic as he whipped towards him.

“We can’t tell them about her,” he shook his head as if to clear it. “Not until we’re sure she can be around people without killing them. I know what it’s like to return and not know where you are.”

Steve nodded and that was it.

“You need help with carrying her? Or maybe get her to a more comfortable position.” Clint suggested. “I mean if I had an ass like that, I would flaunt it and all, but I don’t know how brainwashed assassins feel about that.”

James took a deep breath to stop himself from snapping at Clint, who was obviously only trying to reduce the tension. “Yeah, okay.” When Steve moved forwards to help, he couldn’t help but snap at him, “I got it.”

He rapped his arms around her waist and slipped her down. Her head lolled to rest against his shoulder. Sighing fondly, James slipped his metal arm under her knees and set her arm around his neck, his softer arm supporting her back. When he lifted her up, he heard Steve’s sharp intake of breath. James snapped his head towards Steve only to find an expression of pain and grief. His confusion receded when the blonde whispered a single name, “Natasha.”

Suddenly it all cleared on James. Why she’d felt so confusingly familiar on their first meet, the twinge of guilt when he first kissed her. His beautiful and so deadly Natasha was Steve’s sweet and charming Natasha Antonia Stark. His happiness at finding her disappeared at once on the heartbroken expression.

Steve’s eyes turned towards James and he felt a little breathless at how angry and pained his best friend’s eyes had turned into. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The question was breathed out with such betrayal it cut James hard.

“I swear I didn’t know,” he tried. “I didn’t make the connection until you said her name.” He sighed deeply, “you have to understand. When I first met her, we both were just finished with our training. I couldn’t remember anything before the Chair. She had no feeling in her eyes, they were empty.”

Steve was shaking, “this shouldn’t have ever happened. If I hadn’t crashed the plane-“

“You couldn’t have known Hydra would’ve kidnapped her,” Natalia crushed Steve’s thoughts immediately. James didn’t know what to do. “And they probably would’ve kidnapped her either way if they were dedicated.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” Steve shrugged. James knew he was blaming himself. “At least she had you,” Steve admitted, although it seems like he swallowed something foul when saying those words. He was a protective man, who didn’t let anyone take what was his. James looked at the sleeping figure in his arms.

“She’ll be worse off than me,” he said, voice grim. “I had two years before I came to you. She’s been there longer, and she won’t know where she is upon waking up. She might not even recognize me.” The thought alone scared James, saying it aloud was like accepting the fact.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on her, so she won’t go all crazy Russian assassin on our asses.” Clint commented. They had a past of assassins going all crazy on them. Namely him and Natalia.

“That is the least we can do.”

 *

 When the Winter Flower awoke, it didn’t know where it was.

The bed it was laying on was very soft and comfortable. The room was very white. It reminded the assassin of Medical. Had it been badly injured? It couldn’t remember. What was the last mission it was on...?

It rose from the bed while assessing the room. There wasn’t anything sharp it could use if needed defending. Not that there ever had been. But this medical room didn’t feel like those Hydra held up. They were colourless and painful and uncomfortable.

The Winter Flower glanced at the bed. There was a mattress -should there have been one?- and a pillow. The blanket was in a pile on the floor. That wasn’t normal. There should’ve been only a thin strap to hold the patient up. Comfort wasn’t a thing Hydra was known for. So, it wasn’t with its handlers. Being away for a longer time than necessary would end up in severe punishment. Harsh breaths exited its weakened body. Returning would be more difficult than expected. Especially if fighting its captors would be required.

Suddenly the door opened, and the assassin dropped into a defensive crouch. Its intelligent and careful eyes studied the two men who stepped into the room. One was a sturdy blonde, his strength focused mostly to his arms. The other a brunet, he felt familiar to her. Once its eyes caught sight of the metallic hand peeking out from the sleeve, it knew what it was facing. The Winter Soldier wasn’t supposed to be away from Hydra. Or was this blonde his handler?

The Winter Flower rose from its position mechanically and kept its watchful eyes on them. They both were a threat and it didn’t know if it was strength-y enough to take them both on. Especially in this malnourished state. The brunet stepped towards it, and it couldn’t help the warning snarl that left its lips. The shock showed on both their faces, as if not expecting this reaction.

“Natasha,” the brunet’s pleasant voice filled its ears. The involuntary shiver that passed its body made it mad and afraid. What was the Soldier doing to her with a simple word? “You’re safe.”

“Безопасный?” the assassin spat out the word out back at him. It quickly glanced at the blonde whose face was pained. Recognition came to it. Captain America, threat level four. “Где?” (Where?)

“Скажите мне ваше обозначение,” (Tell me your designation.) the brunet seemed to change tactics. It knew it couldn’t disobey a direct order.

“Товарищ,” (The Companion.) it answered. “Общественное имя: Цветок зимы.” (Public name: The Winter Flower.) The blonde shifted anxiously. He didn’t seem to understand the language.

“Do you know me?” The Soldier asked before quickly adding, “answer in English.”

The assassin hesitated for a moment before answering in a thick Russian accent, “The Winter Soldier. Assassin. Fist of Hydra.” The disappointment was clear on both their faces. It wished it wouldn’t be punished for disappointing. “My… partner?” The question hanged in the air. It knew the answer wasn’t complete, but it couldn’t remember.

“Kind of.” The brunet stepped closer to it, “I was your partner and- and your lover.” He glanced uncomfortable at Captain America, who looked like he’d be rather somewhere else. “Do you know him?”

“Captain America, threat level four, eliminate if provoked.” The Winter Flower answered, its voice dull and lifeless. There was no emotion to connect to him, or was there something under the surface? The Soldier raised confusion and need in the assassin. Not sexual, but a need to be closer to him. Had it really been a lover to him? But weren’t lover’s people, not weapons?

The blonde looked pained and reached towards it before quickly snatching his hand back at the Soldiers warning glance. “Your name is Natasha Antonia Stark. You were born in 1925. You worked with Howard Stark, your brother, on the war. You were my-my girlfriend and I-,” the blonde startled at the pained scream that tore through the assassin’s body.

“СТОП!” (stop!) it yelled, the pain and pressure was building in its head. This was wrong. Something was very wrong. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this, like something was long lost. With a pained growl it threw itself at the blonde, intending on hurting- killing him. The first three punches hit him before arms circled around its wrists. Frustrated scream tore its throat as it flipped in his arms, kicking at his chest to send him tumbling against a wall. The puff of air that escaped his lungs caused a sick satisfaction in it.

The brunet suddenly took hold of its wrist. Its gaze flickered between the metal arm and the Soldiers face. The surprise flickered in his eyes as the four quick punches hit his chest. The Winter Flower threw its elbow at his nose, the sick crunch made him release his grip. But it was back in seconds as he took a hold of it in a strangling hold. It struggled against him.

“You listenin’ to me?” The Winter Soldier whispered in its ear. It tried to twist away from his arms, but the Soldier knew almost all its moves. “Natasha.” He whispered against its ear and it stilled. The name assaulted a flash of images behind its closed eyes, but they were gone as quickly as they came. “I know what is going on in your head. Its all a mess, yeah? Nothing fittin’ where its ‘posed to. I love you, moy tsvitochik, try to remember.”

The term of endearment launched a flash of memories in its- no her, she was a person- head. Flashes of a cold night spent in a tangle of limbs and love, flashes of missions; the seconds after spent stealing forbidden kisses and sharing love. She let out a pained gasp as she sagged against- “Yasha,” the pained and longing whisper forming a circle of safety around her.

“Exactly, moy liubimaja.” James caressed her arms, his body fitting against hers perfectly.

“I thought you had left me,” the tortured woman accused him. She hadn’t seen him in forever. “Or died.”

“Never,” he crooned in her ear. She wanted to believe his words. James’ love had always been something she’d held onto like a lifeline. “They found out about us. They made me watch how you forgot. After that I never saw you again.”

She opened her eyes and turned around in his arms. The brunet was smiling lovingly at her, like she had hung up the moon and stars. Her whiskey eyes tried to find false words in his statement, but there were none. There never was. James had never even uttered a word that had been a lie to her.

“Natasha,” the pained whisper of the name had her stiffening in James’ arms. She pushed free and turned to face the super soldier. The sneer returned to her face, her eyes growing cold and lifeless as she stared at the blonde.

“How do you know my name?” She demanded of the broken looking man rising from the floor he’d fallen to. Captain America wasn’t supposed to know anything about her. She’d only told her name to James. Had he told it to the Man Out of Time? She turned her accusing eyes towards him. The brunet lifted his arms up in a show of surrender.

“You were mine once,” the blonde reached his hand towards her, hoping she’d take it. “Natasha. You told me to call you Toni, like everyone else. But I had to respect your mother’s wish to name you Natasha. Even though she too had called you Toni.”

The confusion made her back away from him. The assassin’s eyes flickered to the door for a millisecond before they focused on Captain America’s anguished face. If she wanted to get away from this man that seemed intent to cause a wrecking ball to go off in her head, she’d need to leave. “But I don’t know you or anyone named Toni.”

The blonde stepped towards her, but stopped, hands hovering in the air when she backed away, “Your full name is Natasha Antonia Stark.” The pain started again.

“Steve,” James called in warning. She’d squeezed her eyes shut for a second before she made her mind. She bolted to the left. James’ arms reached out towards her, but she avoided them by moving a bit to the right. Unfortunately, that put her in reaching distance of the Captain. His hand wrapped around her bicep. “Natasha!” James called after her when she wrenched herself free and bolted out the door.

She didn’t know where the exit was, but there was a window at the end of the hall. She glanced around. There was no-one else in the hallway. Huffing, she ran towards the window. The sound of footsteps behind her and the pleading screams of James did nothing to stop her. Just as their hands were about to reach her, she crashed through the window.

And she fell down.

From the 12th floor.

[southernknots-blog]

Living with Endo

Endometriosis is a disorder in which tissue that normally lines the uterus, grows outside the uterus. Symptoms of endometriosis include painful periods, painful intercourse, severe abdominal pain, excessive bleeding, diarrhea, nausea and infertility. Although some of these do not apply to me I want everyone reading this to be aware of the most common symptoms and to know that every person is different. With that being said.. this is my story...

When I was 13 I started the wonderful journey that is "womanhood!" It only took two short years later to realize that something wasn't normal. I was 15, I remember sitting in that chair when my OB told me I had endometriosis, PCOS and reoccurring ovarian cysts. Really, I was too young to even fully grasp the whole concept but one thing that stuck was that I would have trouble getting pregnant.

Each year after that I had to go back to do an ultrasound to make sure everything looked "normal" and to make sure I didn't have any cancerous looking polyps.. I always got nervous for each of those check ups. Patients with endometriosis automatically have the highest risk of ovarian cancer (40% higher risk to be exact) It also includes breast, brain and endocrine cancer but all of those have a significantly less risk.

The years between the age of 15 and 18 I went through countless different kinds of birth control you could ever imagine to keep the pain under control and to ultimately keep the endometriosis from progressing. At the age of 18 I was on the highest dose of birth control they could prescribe me. (They don't make that high of a dose anymore) Over the years it gradually got worse and worse. The progression was slow but each period I had was noticeably worse than the one before. The pain is comparable to contractions when a woman is in active labor. You literally have to stop whatever you're doing because you feel like you're seconds away from passing out. Specifically, I remember going to my fourth period class in high school and I couldn't make it up the steps. I just stopped half way up. The pain was so excruciating that I could not move my legs another step. After it subsided I went straight to the nurse and waited for my mom to pick me up. We rushed to the emergency room and they concluded that a cyst had ruptured. That was the beginning of my hospital visits. I was rushed to the hospital about four times after that just for the simple fact that my mother came home after work to a curled up screaming teenager. One time I couldn't even make it to the car. My sister carried me from my bed to the car. What a team player 😁

As I grew into a young adult I was starting to miss classes because I was laid up in bed all day vomiting and running fevers left and right. I was calling into work and basically disabled for days while I waited for my period to go away. Only to have the cycle run it's course over again the next month.

When the pain was more present almost every day through each month than just around my cycle, my mom called me... I remember this conversation vividly.. she told me she worked with someone who had seen a fertility specialist in Lake Charles and made me an appointment with him. A couple of weeks later we go to the appointment and I finally got the answers I was looking for. Everything I told them about my symptoms seemed totally understandable. It was like she was checking off the list of what I SHOULD be feeling with this disease. They did an ultrasound and basically asked when I wanted to have the surgery! I remember even being puzzled by that statement. I told her "Oh so this is actually happening?! Are you sure?" I had been questioning myself for so long it was almost natural for my reaction to be doubtful.

So there I was January 2nd, 2013 I had a uterine flip, dnc, endometrial removal, and a few other minor procedures sprinkled in. He drained my ovaries, he opened up my fallopian tubes and removed the remaining cysts. The surgery was scheduled to last about 30-45 minutes, mine lasted 3 hours 😳 Endometrial cells were attached to every single organ in my body, except my heart. I also had it attached to my spine, parts of my back ribs and my colon. When he was done he told my family that I was the youngest woman he had ever seen with that much damage done from endometriosis. He explained that "Superman could not have impregnated me.."

About two months after the surgery I had a period. IT WAS AMAZING! I literally told myself "Holy Sh*t this is what normal people feel? This is awesome!" I took one Advil the entire time! Compared to prescription pain pills, that was amazing! I felt great! No more fevers, no more nausea, no more unbearable pain. It was totally gone and I felt how I should have felt for years. I even got pregnant! And for a person who was told since she's was 15 I would have trouble getting pregnant, that was truly amazing! We had our daughter August 12, 2015. I can legitimately thank him for her birth- and I did!

Since I had her I had very similar symptoms once a month. Very mild symptoms, but they didn't go unnoticed. About eight months ago I felt a pain in my lower right abdomen that didn't sit well with me, it was all too familiar for comfort. The pain continued little by little and I finally decided to give my doctor a call. We had an ultrasound and found out my uterus had been tilted again and one ovary was significantly bigger than the other. Over the past few months we have tried to fix the enlarged ovary without surgery (Plan A) and that maybe that was the cause of my pain. About a month ago I went back and had another ultrasound done which concluded I needed another surgery (Plan B). Unfortunately this one may make our chances of conceiving less likely but my husband and I remain optimistic. We already have one amazing child that I didn't think would ever come and we are forever grateful to have her, so another would be just as amazing!

My surgery is scheduled for January 3rd, 2018 so I will take about a two week break from knotting... I say that but you guys already know I'll be making while I'm in bed 😂 I know I say this all the time but I am so grateful to have found this art. I know it will help me heal quickly as it has helped me with countless other things. And many of you may think that having another surgery would be bad news for me but I am honestly very happy about it. As I am sure this part of my life is far from over, this is a huge step in the right direction!