#and the medical unit if no one could do anything??????????? JUST TO TAKE PICTURES??? WHO ORGANIZED THIS

[xiaominho]

the government is wasting so much money bc of their poor planning

[vigilante-3073]

Blue Or Pink?

James Wilson x Female Reader

Summary: House makes some observations about Doctor Y/N L/N. He is absolutely certain that she is pregnant with Wilson's child, but something seems amiss.

TW: Pregnancy, mentions of weight gain/breast size/nausea and vomiting/miscarriage, medical diagnosis.

House stood outside the Pediatric unit, watching Doctor L/N-Wilson through the window as she spoke with the parents of a patient. She had been married to Wilson for almost two years and things had been stable.

Normal.

Predictable.

But House began to notice small changes in Doctor L/N-Wilson. At first they seemed insignificant, but then the little nothings turned into big somethings.

First it was the tiredness, she'd whine about being exhausted before resting her head on Wilson's shoulder in the cafeteria. It was nothing special, just an overworked Pediatrician who gave everything to her patients.

Secondly, House noticed a change in how she responded to smells. She refused to kiss Wilson after he drank his morning coffee, the smell making her stomach churn. It could have been an anomaly, but then he changed his cologne. Wilson liked his cologne and had used the same one for as long as House had known him. A new cologne could have been gifted to him, but Wilson wouldn't have used a different scent without some other motivation. It seemed obvious to House that L/N's smell-associated nausea had caused the switch.

Thirdly, it was how emotional she had become. L/N had always been an emotional lightweight with a heart of gold, but House could see a difference in her. She didn't seek out comfort from Wilson on a routine basis, only when she had lost someone or experienced an emotionally taxing case. Then he noticed her coming and going from his best friend's office with red, watery eyes at least once a week. Her heightened emotional state could be due to the loss of some boring little rugrat who drew her a picture of a butterfly once, but it seemed more intense than that.

Fourth thing he noticed was the vomiting, she was very discreet about sneaking away to upchuk in the hospital bathroom, but not discreet enough to escape his watchful eye. She was constantly chewing mint gum or sucking on breath mints while carrying a toothbrush in the pocket of her lab coat.

Fifth thing was an increase in cup size and a sudden progressive weight gain. It wasn't anything excessive, but it was enough to have her clothing fit more snugly before she gave up and bought new clothes.

Sixth was the appointment. Wilson and L/N snuck away to an "early lunch" after talking to Cuddy. They were both Department heads and didn't need to speak to the Dean of Medicine before stepping out for an hour.

The anomalies were piling up into a rather perfect list of symptoms.

Chase made his way over to House, frowning as he stared through the glass, "What are you looking at?" Chase asked.

"Doctor L/N-Wilson," House stated.

His eyes followed her as she separated from the parents, walking over to the nursing station.

"Why?" Chase asked uncertainly.

"She has a parasite," House said, Chase's head snapped in his boss' direction.

"What? How do you know?" Chase questioned, turning to look at her again.

"I just know. It would take too long to explain," House said, turning and walking off.

...

Wilson and L/N sat on the couch in their apartment, her back was leaned against his side and her legs were stretched out across the couch cushions. Wilson's arm was wrapped around her as he flipped through the channels on the television. L/N stared down at her book, turning the page before closing her eyes and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"You alright?" He asked, looking down at her.

"Tired," She sighed.

"Do you want to go to bed?" Wilson questioned.

"No, I'll be okay. I like spending time with you," L/N said, eyes fluttering open.

Wilson smiled, pressing a kiss to her head as she returned to her book. He turned his head towards the television before someone knocked at the door.

L/N sat up, setting her book down on the cushion beside her.

"I'll get it," Wilson said, setting the remote down and making his way over to the door.

He opened the door, sighing when he saw House standing on his doorstep.

"Your wife has a parasite," House stated.

"Thank you so much for letting us know. We'll have her admitted for treatment in the morning," Wilson said sarcastically, "Goodnight, House," Wilson stated, moving to close the door.

House stuck his foot in the doorway, blocking the door from closing before pushing his way into their apartment.

"House, what are you doing here?" L/N asked.

"You have a parasite, Doctor L/N-Wilson," He said.

"No, I don't. Go home, House," She said, standing up from the couch and moving to step past him.

"It has arms and legs. It looks adorable in a onesie. Chromosomes of XX or XY with eyes like mommy and glorious hair like daddy. Lucky bugger will even get two Christmases when you two separate," House said.

"We're not separating," Wilson snapped.

"That's besides the point," House said, returning his attention to L/N, "Oh, and I stumbled across this," House said, holding up a document displaying a positive pregnancy blood test result.

"How did you-" She started, snatching the paper from his hand, "Did you break into my office? And my desk?" L/N questioned incredulously.

"I should be saying mazel tov. Congratulations on the little rugrat," House said.

L/N smacked him in the arm, "You're an ass," She snapped, folding up the paper.

"I thought you'd be screaming it from the rooftops," House said.

"Forgive me for being cautious," She huffed, sitting back down on the couch.

"You're almost four months along. Way past the danger zone for early miscarriage," House stated, eyes flickering over her.

House looked up at Wilson, he shook his head, silently pleading with his friend not to continue.

"You've lost a pregnancy before," House said.

"House-" "Three," L/N replied, looking up at him.

"House, get out," Wilson said.

"He was going to find out at some point, James. I'm surprised he didn't steal my medical records already," L/N said.

"Another hospital, too much work," House shrugged.

"Can you grab a copy of the sonogram?" She asked, Wilson nodded, making his way down the hallway before returning with a photograph.

He held it out to House, he took the photo and stared down at it, "The fetus has your nose," House said, "Mind if I keep this?" He asked.

"Sure," L/N nodded, leaning back against the couch.

"Why do you- You know what? Nevermind," Wilson sighed, sitting down beside L/N and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"I'll see myself out. Congratulations on the kid," House said, making his way over to the door and out of their apartment.

...

House sat at his desk, staring down at the sonogram as his team discussed their most recent case. House tilted his head, thumb brushing over a darkened area on the scan.

"House?" Cameron questioned loudly.

He looked up to find Chase, Cameron and Foreman staring at him expectantly. House turned the sonogram photo and held it up for the team to see, "New case. Tell me what's wrong with this picture," He said.

Cameron huffed, "We need to solve our first case before moving on to something else. We should do a transesophageal echo to rule out a blood clot and to-" "Sure, but first, tell me what's wrong with this picture," House repeated.

Chase squinted, leaning in closer to view the sonogram, "Looks fine to me. Roughly four months along, I'd say," Chase shrugged, straightening back up.

"Wrong, thanks for playing. You two," House said, looking up at Foreman and Cameron.

Cameron shook her head before letting out a defeated sigh, she leaned in and scanned the sonogram silently.

"The fetus is undersized for gestational age. Can we go now?" Foreman asked.

"Nope. Try again," House said.

"There's a mass," Cameron said softly, taking the sonogram from House's hand.

"Yeah, it's called a baby," Chase muttered.

"No, there's a membrane around it," She said, stepping over to the x-ray view box and holding it up to the light.

House stood from his chair, staring at the sonogram over her shoulder. He took the photograph from her hand, "Do the echo," House said, grabbing his cane and heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Cameron asked.

"To locate a pregnant woman," House stated.

...

L/N made her way across the lobby towards the clinic, "Y/N," Wilson called. She turned to face him, "Did House page you?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah, did he page you too?" L/N questioned.

"This can't be anything good," Wilson muttered, hand resting on the small of her back as they entered the clinic.

They made their way over to the exam room House had paged them to.

L/N knocked before opening the door, she and her husband stepped into the exam room, "What do you need, House?" L/N asked.

"You. Hop up on the table," House instructed, pulling over the portable ultrasound machine.

"House, she already has an obstetrician," Wilson said.

"Well, your obstetrician is an idiot," House said, turning on the ultrasound machine.

"I'm going back to work," L/N sighed, stepping over to the door.

"I saw something in your sonogram," House stated.

L/N hesitated, "What was it?" She asked.

"I have an idea, but I need to get a look at the thing," House said, gesturing to the exam table.

L/N looked over at Wilson before reluctantly getting up on the table and laying back. Wilson moved over to her side as she pulled up her blouse.

House squeezed some gel onto her belly before moving the wand across her skin. The soft thump of their baby's heartbeat filled the room as House stared up at the screen.

"Your baby has a roommate... Sneaky little sucker that leaves its dishes in the sink and trashes the place so they lose the security deposit," House said, typing on the keyboard.

"What is it?" Wilson asked, holding onto her hand tightly.

House turned the screen towards them, "A cyst," He said.

"It's solid," Wilson said softly, stomach dropping as he saw the possibly cancerous mass growing in his wife's belly. The oncologist within him already formulating treatment plans and survival rates.

"Sometimes. This week it's solid, two weeks ago it was liquid," House said, holding up the previous sonogram.

"I have cancer?" L/N mumbled shakily, eyes glossing over with tears as she looked up at Wilson.

"Nope, think hairy with a nasty bite," House said.

"A dermoid cyst?" L/N questioned.

"Bingo," House said, "Your baby is small for gestational age, but your fundal height is bang on. Someone else is taking up space," House said.

"Your miscarriages hid the symptoms and the cyst is likely to create more problems as it continues to grow. I scheduled you for a laproscopic removal tomorrow evening and notified your idiotic OB," House continued, putting down the ultrasound wand.

He held up a tissue, allowing L/N to wipe the gel from her stomach. She pulled down her blouse and sat up on the exam table.

"I still want to test your blood for cancer markers, but the chances of a dermoid cyst being cancerous are slim to none," House said, standing from his stool and gathering supplies.

"Your hubby can do all the testing," House said.

He tied the tourniquet around her arm and drew a few vials of blood to test. Wilson stood close to her side, his hand resting against her back reassuringly as they processed the information.

"Did the cyst cause my miscarriages?" She asked softly.

House shrugged, "Probably... The ugly thing is taking up all the beachfront property and keeping it from possible long-term residents. Bad for business, especially if business involves pregnancy," House said.

L/N huffed a laugh, leaning into Wilson's chest as a tear rolled down her cheek. Wilson pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wrapping his arm around her waist securely.

"The baby is going to be okay," Wilson assured, L/N nodded.

"I'll leave you two to do whatever married people do," House said, grabbing the vials of blood and his cane.

"House, wait," L/N said, pulling away from Wilson. She hopped off the table and stepped over to House.

He stiffened as she hugged him before slowly wrapping his arms around her, "Thank you," She said softly.

"You're welcome," House replied.

[iinsertblognamee]

matildas; the world at our feet ft Y/N

summary ― clips from the docuseries

pairing ― sam kerr x arnold!reader

warning/s ― fluff, character injury, mentions of IVF, pregnancy

based off this request

[BLACK SCREEN: BADLY RECORDED AUDIO]

UNKNOWN MALE VOICE: We need to know if she is ready to play for the world cup. We can’t waste spots on someone who isn’t game ready, especially not after the hit she took a couple months back. 

TONY GUSTAVSSON: I know she’ll be ready. I want her on my team - and help us win that world cup. 

[SCREEN SLOWLY LIGHTS UP, FOCUSING ON Y/N SITTING ON KITCHEN STOOL]

Y/N ARNOLD: I know how much I want this, how much I want to be apart of the girls taking us to the world cup and I know i’ll do anything to get there. 

[PICTURES OF Y/N KICKING A SOCCER BALL FROM HER MATCHES]

Y/N ARNOLD: As a young girl I knew I always wanted to play sport - I would watch men play at such high levels and wished that could be me. 

[CUTTING BACK TO Y/N]

Y/N ARNOLD: And now that I’m here, I’m not going to let anything stop me. 

…

[SAM AND Y/N’S HOUSE; SAM AND Y/N SITTING DOWN ON A COUCH, LAUGHING]

SAM KERR: It think one of the toughest things i’ve had to do so far is admit to Macca that I was dating her little sister (Y/N LAUGHS, THROWING HER HEAD BACK) 

Y/N ARNOLD: That can’t be true! Mac isn’t that - (SAM GIVES HER A SHOCKED LOOK, Y/N LAUGHS AGAIN) - Okay, so she’s a little protective! 

SAM KERR: She threaten to break my legs so I would never be able to score another goal again. 

[SCENE CUTS TO MACKENZIE’S HOUSE; MACKENZIE, LOUGNING BACK ON A COUCH] 

MACKENZIE ARNOLD: Yeah, told her she’d never be able to score another goal if she hurt my little sister. 

(LOOKS STRAIGHT AT THE CAMERA, SHRUGGING HER SHOULDERS) 

[SCENE CUTS BACK TO SAM AND Y/N]

Y/N ARNOLD: but you aren’t scared of her anymore are you? I mean she’s a lot better now

SAM KERR: Yeah, no. Macca and I are good now (LOOKS DIRECTLY AT CAMERA AND SHAKES HER HEAD, MOUTHING ‘NO, WE’RE NOT’)  

…

[SAM AND Y/N’S HOUSE; Y/N STANDING AT HER KITCHEN BENCH, MAKING LUNCH] 

Y/N ARNOLD: I think as important as this world cup is for us, it’s a million times more important for the fans and the future fans. Like my heart beats faster just thinking about all those little girls who are going to be at home watching us on screen and realise that this is a possibility for them. 

…

[CLIPS OF THE MATILDAS TRAINING] 

SAM KERR: I am so increbiley proud of the team we’ve become, you know. I feel like this is the team that’s gonna win it and in twenty years time i’ll know I was apart of the team that made history. 

…

MONTHS TO THE WORLD CUP; 16

11th MARCH 2022 

WEST HAM UNITED VS CHELSEA 

[CLIPS OF THE STADIUM, CROWDS FILLING IN] 

COMMENTATOR: The atmosphere inside this stadium is electric. 

[CLIPS OF THE TWO TEAMS LINED UP ON THE FIELD] 

Y/N ARNOLD: It’s really exciting getting to play these kind of games you know? Having my sister on field, even if it is for the opposite side. 

[CLIPS OF THE GAME PLAYING] 

Y/N ARNOLD: I don’t remember much of the game really but yeah. 

[CLIP OF Y/N RUNNING FOR THE BALL IN THE AIR, HER AND AN OPPONENT JUMP IN THE AIR TO HIT THE BALL - A SECOND OPPONENT RUNNING AND JUMPING, HER BODY SLAMING INTO Y/N. Y/N HITS THE FLOOR - NOT MOVING]

COMMENTATOR: Something’s happened - Y/N Arnold has not gotten up after that brutal hit. 

[CLIP ON Y/N LAYING ON THE GROUND, TEAMMATES FROM BOTH TEAMS RUNNING TOWARDS HER - SAM SHAKING HER] 

COMMENTATOR: Y/N Arnold still down. This doesn’t look good. 

[CLIP BACK ON Y/N, MEDICS TRYING TO ASSESS HER - STILL NOT RESPONSIVE, CLIP CHANGES TO THE CROWD, SHOWING FANS CRYING] 

MACKENZIE ARNOLD: I think that was probably the scariest moment of my career. 

[MACKENZIE’S HOUSE; MACKENZIE SITTING ON A COUCH] 

MACKENZIE ARNOLD: I saw her go down, but you know growing up in our household you would always get up. And I remember watching my teammates walk off, so I turned my attention back to the ball. 

[CLIP OF MACKENZIE RUNNING TOWARDS Y/N] 

MACKENZIE ARNOLD: it probably wasn’t for another couple of seconds when I heard yelling did I look back and saw Y/N still on the ground. 

[SAM AND Y/N’S HOUSE; SAM SITTING ON A COUCH] 

SAM KERR: I remember her going down, and next thing I know Millie is running towards her with some of the other girls screaming at the ref. (pauses.) By the time I had gotten over there, she still hadn’t moved or woken up and my heart just stopped y’know? 

[CLIPS OF Y/N SURROUNDED, MEDICS TRYING TO GET A REPOSNE] 

MACKENZIE ARNOLD: She’s never been the one to stay down - and I think that was the scariest part. Like I know my sister and I know that she can come back from just about anything. But this - this was scary. 

[SAM AND Y/N’S HOUSE; Y/N SITTING ON A COUCH, LOOKING PAST THE CAMERA] 

Y/N ARNOLD: I’ve seen the clips, watched it over and over again. And like I know it’s me, I watch myself hit the ground but I just don’t remember any of it. 

[CLIP OF MACKENZIE HOLDING Y/N’S HAND AS MEDIC CARRY HER OFF THE FIELD ON A STRETCHER, SAM HOLDING HER OTHER HAND] 

Y/N ARNOLD: I had a grade three concussion, a dislocated shoulder and had split my eyebrow open, to which i needed to get stitches for. 

[SAM AND Y/N’S HOUSE; SAM SITTING ON A COUCH] 

SAM KERR: I still remember the second that final whistle blew, Mac and I were off that field and running towards the medic room. They were still doing examinations on her, and I still remember them asking Y/N for her full name and she couldn’t answer. That - I can’t even. (pauses.) I don’t ever want to go through that again. 

[MACKENZIE’S HOUSE; MACKENZIE SITTING ON A COUCH, WIPING AWAY TEARS FROM HER EYES] 

MACKENZIE ARNOLD: It was just so scary you know, (sniffling, as she shakes her head) the look on her face when Sam and I walked in that room - like she didn’t recognise who we were. 

[SAM AND Y/N’S HOUSE; Y/N SITTING ON A COUCH] 

Y/N ARNOLD: I honestly don’t remember much of what happened even a few days later, but I remember just thinking about the world cup and just believing that I’d lost my chance. There was no way I was ever going to be able to play again, not with these injuries. 

…

[CLIP OF SAM AND Y/N PLAYING WITH Y/N’S NIECES] 

Y/N ARNOLD: As a kid I always had two dreams, to become a famous athlete and to become a mother. 

[PHOTOS OF YOUNG Y/N HOLDING BABY DOLLS] 

Y/N ARNOLD: As my soccer got more serious, I kinda pushed the whole kids dream in the back of my mind y’know. It was like you could either be a soccer star or be a mother. You can’t have both. 

[SAM AND Y/N’S HOUSE; SAM AND Y/N SITTING DOWN ON A COUCH, Y/N LOOKING OVER AT SAM] 

Y/N ARNOLD: After the whole injury drama, I had been benched for minimum three months. Appointment after appointment, I wasn’t allowed back to training - couldn’t drive myself anywhere and I just found myself at home looking at photos of babies and watching my nieces over facetimes. (SAM LOOKING OVER TO Y/N, SMILING) 

SAM KERR: We had definitely talked about kids before, but soccer was always more important i think - and neither of us wanted to give it up just yet. (Y/N NODDING ALONG) but suddenly Y/N had a lot more time on her hands and after many conversations with ourselves, our families and our coaches. Researching IVF and you know all the options within that we decided to start our family. 

[VIDEOS AND PICTURES OF Y/N PREGNANT; SOME INVOLVING SAM, FRIENDS AND FAMILY] 

SAM KERR: It was such a surreal experience, watching the person you love bring in your child into the world. (SAM BRINGING Y/N’S HAND TO HER LIPS AND GIVING THEM A KISS) 

Y/N ARNOLD: Having delilah was just so eye-opening I think for both of us. And the second they put her in my arms, my whole world had shifted. 

[CLIPS OF SAM, Y/N AND BABY DELILAH] 

SAM KERR: I couldn’t love anyone or anything as much as I love my two girls. 

[SAM AND Y/N’S HOUSE; SAM SITTING DOWN ON A COACH, AS Y/N COMES IN THE FRAME - DELILAH IN HER ARMS] 

SAM KERR: Hi my little baby (REACHING OUT TO TAKE DELILAH OUT OF Y/N’S HANDS AS Y/N SITS BACK DOWN NEXT TO SAM) 

Y/N ARNOLD: (WATCHING SAM AND DELILAH INTERACT) I remember throughout the whole pregnancy I wanted to create a legacy for her, y’know? Something she could look up to and know that she could reach whatever dreams she wanted. I think that was my tipping point like this was the moment I realised I wanted to be back in the game. I want to play in the world cup. I want to win that world cup for her. (LOOKING ONCE MORE AT SAM BEFORE BACK TO THE CAMERA) 

Y/N ARNOLD: That’s that exactly what I intend to do. 

…

[TRAINING FIELD; MACKENZIE HOLDING DELILAH, AS ALANNA AND CAITLIN TICKLE HER] 

MACKENZIE ARNOLD: Who’s your favourite D? (DELILAH GIGGLING) That’s right Aunty Mac’s is your favourite and I always will be (KISSING DELILAH ON THE CHEEK, DELILAH GIGGLING AGAIN) 

SAM KERR: Who’s torturing my daughter? (SAM COMING INTO THE FRAME, ARMS OUT TO TAKE DELILAH OFF MACKENZIE) It’s okay baby, mama will save you! I’ll always save you. (KISSING HER ON THE CHEEK OVER AND OVER AGAIN) 

[CAMERA SHIFTS TO ELLIE CARPENTER] 

ELLIE CARPENTER: Our own little mascot! 

…

[SAM AND Y/N’S HOUSE; Y/N SITTING DOWN ON A COUCH] 

Y/N ARNOLD: So many of my dreams have come true in this journey, I joined the matildas, I got signed on to play for Chelsea. I met the love of my life. Married the love of my life and had our daughter. Like I just can’t believe how my life has turned out. If little Y/N could see us now. 

VOICE FROM BEHIND THE CAMERA: What else do you want to achieve? 

Y/N ARNOLD: I want to take that world cup trophy home.

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 6 - MONTH 6 - THE CAGED BIRD

CONTENT WARNING - This chapter contains mentions of medical injections, bigotry, child abuse, self-harm, and attempted suicide. Reader beware.

FIRST - PREV - NEXT

I had my six-month check-up with Dr. Erian, an online appointment just like last time. No particular medical issues this time around, bloodwork checks out, genetic reconfiguration is stable. We can't do a thorough physical exam over the internet, but according to him, I am "the very picture of health, by the standards of your species". I'm a bit curious what standards those are, given that I have yet to hear about any other tiger therians. Hopefully there ARE standards, and he's not just giving me empty reassurance.

We also spent some time going over dietary concerns - am I getting enough meat, am I reducing my fruit and grain intake appropriately, that sort of thing. I assured him that I'm eating real meat with every meal, just like the booklet said to, I've been limiting fruits and vegetables, and I don't even have an appetite for anything grain-based. I'll probably miss what fresh bread used to be like, but I just can't bring myself to want it anymore. Apparently not every therian is following the diet they're supposed to, but the doctor didn't have any concerns about me, "assuming your answers are honest, Miss Alexis". What, does he think I'm about to lie to the one person who knows how species transition works?

At one point during the discussion I thought I heard him mutter something about a "foolish undine", but I must have misheard. Undines are water spirits or elementals or something - a fictional creature. Then again, so are dragons and lamias, but the first well-known humanity remover was a dragon-girl, and I've been hanging out and playing online games with a lamia. At this point you could tell me there's someone out there transitioning to Sonic the Hedgehog, and I might actually believe you.

I've hit the point of full fur coverage, so no more awkward bald patches! Unfortunately, this does mean I need to start taking my estrogen in a form other than skin patches, because there's nowhere left to stick them. After a lot of agonizing over the pros and cons of potential liver damage from pills versus facing down my needle phobia, I opted to ask my endocrinologist to train me on injectable estrogen. She made a somewhat tone-deaf joke about not being trained in veterinary medicine, but she was otherwise very patient and reassuring, so I let it slide.

I do want to state for the record that I am a big scary tiger who's not afraid of anything and I only cried a little bit the first time I injected myself.

My ears are definitely becoming much more sensitive - I keep hearing really annoying high-pitch noises when I'm around heavy machinery, and that happens a lot more often than you might think. My office at work is right next to an elevator, and whenever someone uses it, the motor lets out this gods-awful whine and I have to plug my ears until it stops moving again. My local grocery also has a few freezer units that give off a similar sound, constantly, and I've had to start wearing earplugs to go on food runs.

As for visual changes, I can see in the dark reasonably well, but I've also started getting headaches and discomfort when I squint or try too hard to focus on something. I guess I should probably just… try to not do that. I have spent a significant portion of my life staring at a screen, so my eyes probably aren't in the best shape overall.

Now that my physical changes are pretty much done, most people just assume I'm wearing a very intricate costume - at least, until they get close. No costume has mouth movements or facial expressions this realistic, and believe me, our top furry scientists and engineers have tried.

At one point there's a conversation on the humanity removal chat server about the political climates in our respective areas towards therians. Obviously, a lot of the right-wing talking-head shows have been shitting themselves inside-out about the idea of people giving up their humanity, especially the ones with a more religious bent. "How dare these freaks forsake God's holy image", "Humanity is a divine blessing and must be cherished", "We call on the one true God to smite these worshippers of the Beast", and so on like that. Excuse you, but I've never worshipped your discriminatory god and I'm not beholden to their 'holy image'. My goddess is one of beauty, love, and artistic expression, and the entire reason I'm changing myself in the first place is as an expression of self-love.

Most of us agree, though, that the absolute worst of the 24-hour news cycle doesn't have anything to do with how regular everyday people see us. In fact, we're rare enough still that a decent proportion of people don't believe we exist - they think that tabloids made us up to sell more copies. I don't know if that's better in terms of acceptance, but I'll take it over a torch-and-pitchfork mob running me out of town.

The conversation shifts to us sharing our locations, those of us who are comfortable doing so at least. We generally keep it vague, but most of us are at least alright with saying which country we live in. I narrow it down to a province for myself, mainly because my province alone is larger than some countries, but also because once we start to get noticed by the media and the world, there'll probably be no stopping our locations becoming known.

It's also going to get interesting if anyone starts asking how most of us are going to the same medical provider when he requires that consultations be done in person, or why the location he operates out of - Hyper City - doesn't appear on any map. Truthfully, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself.

The next day, I get a private message from the girl with the corvid avatar:

"Hey I saw your post when everybody was talking about where they are! I live there too!! We should totally meet up sometime ^v^"

…This is a dilemma. Obviously, I'm worried about the optics of a teenager meeting up with a 39-year-old she met on the internet, there's all kinds of ways that could be taken the wrong way, but dammit, I still don't know anyone like me in this part of the world, who knows if I'll ever find anyone else who's local? …I really want to try, but I should at least give her a warning, and a judgement-free out.

"Uhh I get wanting to meet up, but I'm more than 20 years older than you, would your parents be anywhere near cool with that??"

There's a long pause. I see her start and stop typing multiple times. I'm worried I've upset her. Eventually, she sends another message:

"I don't give a fuck what they think"

I'm taken aback by the harshness of the reply, and don't manage to type anything before another series of messages pops up:

"and they don't care what I do anyway so it's whatever" "if anyone asks I'll just say you're my weird aunt" "you have no idea how bad I want to meet someone who GETS IT" "humanity is a curse and I want to be free"

'I want to be free'. Something about that phrase hits somewhere deep, in a source of pain that never fully healed. Freedom from pain, freedom from self-hatred, freedom at any cost, even if it meant my life. I remember how that desire for freedom feels.

The only thing I can think to do next is ask if she's okay. Her response is to ask if I can go on a voice call. I'm not sure if she wants some confirmation that I'm a real person or if she just doesn't want the next part of the conversation preserved in the text log.

"Hey…", I begin cautiously as the voice call starts. "Can you hear me okay?"

There's a suppressed sniffle on the other end. "Yeah… I hear you."

For a moment I entertain the thought of going all 'when I was your age' and explaining that I was always cautioned against talking to strangers on the internet, but it's probably not the time for that. Read the room, Alexis.

She's not saying anything. I'm going to have to start this off, I think. Something harmless, something value-neutral…

"So from your icon, I'm guessing you want crow HRT? Raven HRT, maybe?"

"Crow HRT.", she states simply. "Crows are everywhere here, and I've always loved them, always been jealous of them. They get to go anywhere they want, do anything they want…" She lets out a groaning sigh. "Augh, this is stupid. You probably think I'm stupid for wanting this."

I can't hold back from giving a little bit of a laugh. "Hah! Young lady, one year ago I went to a doctor and told him to his face that I wanted him to turn me into a recessive-gene variant of an endangered species that doesn't even live on this continent, and then I threatened to bite him if he wouldn't do it. Fantasizing about being a crow is just about the normalest thing I can imagine compared to that."

"…You said you'd BITE him?"

I grin, though without a camera set up she can't see it. "Every one of us who seeks out humanity removal therapy is already a little bit inhuman, even if we don't fully know it yet. After all, why would we remove something if we felt emotionally attached to it?"

Another audible sniffle. "Holy fuck, you DO get it…"

"I sure hope I get it, it's not like I can un-grow the fur and the tail."

She gives a laugh, then there's a long pause. "…Does it hurt? Is it scary?"

"Sometimes. My fingers were REALLY sore while my claws were developing, and having your entire facial structure rearrange is no joke. As for scary, well, I sure get stared at a lot more, but I think I scare people a lot more than they scare me."

"Heh, maybe I want to be scary."

I frown a little. "I don't. I just want to be true to myself."

There's an awkward silence. After a while, I decide to bring up something I was curious about:

"So I remember you asking if there was a way to get species HRT without your parents noticing. I'm guessing they're not exactly supportive?"

She lets out an uncomfortable groan. "Mmmngh… They watch a lot of those news shows, you know, the ones that only run angry sensationalist bullcrap? Dad gets furious at the idea of anyone changing themselves, something about the 'holy sanctity of the human body' or whatever. He even thinks tattoos are blasphemy. Mom says it's the most horrific thing she can imagine, she nearly fainted when she caught me watching a stream of this one dragon girl talking about her changes."

"And here you are, wanting to be a bird… I'm sorry, that sounds really rough."

"It… It is." I can hear her voice faltering. "Hearing nothing but how terrible a waste it is, and how awful and horrific they are, and the whole time knowing that I'd give ANYTHING for it to happen to me, I just… I'm sorry, I just…"

"Hey, you don't need to apologize… I'm not going anywhere."

"I just… don't know how much longer I can take it!"

"…Take what?" I'm afraid to ask my next question, but… I just have to. "…What are they doing to you??"

Somewhere deep inside her, the dam just… breaks. She starts sobbing as she tells me about how her parents yell at her over every single mistake, how she gets shoved or hit just for being in the way, how she hurts herself just so the pain gives her something to feel and to focus on, and how she… How she once climbed up to the roof of her building and took a flying leap off. She had every intention to end her own life, but in the moment her feet left the ground and she felt the air under her arms, she experienced a rush of euphoria, for the first time she can remember.

…And a moment later, she broke a leg and several ribs when she hit the ground.

She explains that she spent over a month in hospital, a captive audience for her parents to yell at more, when they even bothered to show up at all. I'm too stunned to even react.

She's spent the years since then chasing that high, climbing trees and jumping off, finding rooftops and hilltops to go stand in the wind, looking up online videos of parachuting and wingsuiting and hang gliding, and when she first heard rumours about medical treatments that can alter one's very species, she started frantically researching. That's how she started finding other therians to reach out to, how she got involved in the group chat.

"Have you… had an appointment with Dr. Erian yet?" I have a feeling I already know the answer - something something, 'letter from a physician, two psychologists, live as your preferred species for at least a year'. The same horseshit I had to listen to.

"No… I tried to get one, but he won't see anyone under 18 without parental consent, and fat chance of ever getting that."

Huh. I hadn't expected that, it feels surprisingly principled for him. Though at the end of the day, it's probably just another liability thing - ol' Teddy Erian covering his own ass as usual.

"I just…" She's started crying again. "I just want to turn into a beautiful black bird and fly away from all this, forever… I just want to live my life on the wind, going wherever I want, never having to see a single human again…"

I can feel my own tears welling up, and that's the moment I make my decision. I'm going to meet up with this girl, and I'm going to find a way to help her. Maybe she doesn't need humanity removal, maybe she just needs to know someone who understands.

We decide on a place and time to meet up. There's a little cafe I like nearby, run by a trio of neurodivergent queer women. It's a public place, and about as safe for weirdos like us as you can get. Corvid-girl tells me she'll be the one with a feathered headband and a crow-skull necklace. I tell her I'll be the one with white fur and a tail. That manages to get a laugh out of her. I choose to take that as a victory.

There's something about the way she laughs that sounds a bit like a crow's call. I wonder whether that's intentional on her part…

A few days later, I'm sitting in the cafe enjoying a hot chocolate and a roast beef sandwich - extra meat, naturally. Dr. Erian said I have to start cutting chocolate out of my diet because cocoa is going to become toxic to me, but… chocolate! I did ask for a lighter mix though, so what I'm drinking is actually mostly just hot milk. Maybe there's a cocoa-free substitute out there I can look into…

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by a squeal of delight emanating from the front door. There's a teenage girl standing there, staring directly at me with a look of amazement on her face. Dark clothes, pale skin, black hair, headband with feathers in it, and hanging from her neck, an amulet in the shape of a bird skull. I smile and wave a paw at her. She practically bounces as she walks up to my table and takes a seat.

"Holy SHIT, you're… And you even have the… Your face looks just like… Can I touch your paw??"

I laugh and hold out my paw. "Haha, sure, just watch out for the claws, they don't stay all the way inside just yet."

"Oh, it's okay, I'm used to sharp things!"

I wince as I think back to our voice chat from the other day. I REALLY hope she doesn't mean what I think she means, but I can't help noticing she's wearing long sleeves, even though the weather has been getting warmer.

She turns my paw over and squeals. "OHMYGOD you even have the BEEEEANS!" I can't resist smiling as she starts poking and prodding at my pawpads. "You look SO!! AMAZING!!"

Corvid-girl starts frantically complimenting all my animalistic features - "Your stripes are so pretty!" "I love your tail!" "Ohh, your fangs, they're so COOL!!" - and I start uncontrollably blushing. I never would have thought species affirmation would feel this euphoric… Naturally, being a teenager, she takes this as an excuse to push even harder, and I start covering my face with my paws, thoroughly embarrassed.

"You look just like the tigers they have on stage for those shows in Vegas!"

"H-hey, that's actually not okay…"

"You know, I bet you'd look good up on a stage too! Everyone would love to see you!!"

Instinctually, I let out a growl, louder than I actually want to. It has the intended effect, in that she stops dead and stares at me, but so do a few other cafe patrons. Oh gods, here comes the embarrassment again… "H-hey, look, it's just…"

"Sorry." She's gone completely deadpan, and stiff as a board.

I close my eyes tightly. Gods, why did I DO that?? First the waitress at that seafood place, and now an actual CHILD. I REALLY need to start getting a handle on these predator instincts. When I open my eyes again, she's still standing there, and she looks like she's on the verge of a panic attack.

I need to calm her down, need to bring her back. "No… I'M sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I just… The animals they use for those stage shows get abused all the time, and it's kind of a sore spot for me."

"…Really?"

Okay, she's talking, she's distracted, maybe I can still salvage this. "Yeah… Every species has baggage, it's one of the shitty parts of being therian, and tigers, white tigers especially, they're treated like show pieces, or worse."

"…Well shit, I knew they're endangered, but… fuck."

"Yeah, it's a whole thing, I try not to -"

Our conversation is interrupted by one of the staff tapping corvid-girl on the shoulder and asking to talk privately. She reluctantly agrees to go to the back of the store and talk. At first I think maybe she's being chastised for being a disturbance, but the barista who pulled her away is giving me some very pointed looks. Worried looks, I might even say.

If I angle my ears just right, I can almost hear them through the noise of the rest of the cafe.

"…other patrons were concerned… …young lady so close to a dangerous creature…"

I wonder if the barista notices the indignant look that crosses my face when they describe me as a 'creature'.

Corvid-girl lets out that bird-like laugh of hers. Her voice is a lot more distinct and easier to pick out:

"It's just my aunt! She's not a 'creature', she just takes meds to look like that!"

The barista doesn't protest as corvid-girl returns to our table, but they're still giving me a very 'You'd better not try anything' kind of look.

Corvid-girl sits down, seemingly a little more grounded, a little more sobered. "…I guess I never thought to ask, why a white tiger?"

I lean forward, head in one paw, and give a bit of a shrug. "I relate a lot to them."

"To… being treated like a show piece, or whatever you said?"

"…Yeah. When I was little, they called me 'gifted' and put me in a separate school. I remember being excited about it, but it turns out it just meant getting more homework."

"…Ew."

I smile a little bit. "That's what I thought too! They wanted me to be some brilliant prodigy, a genius in the making, but the reality is I was just more observant and better at math than most people, that's all. I actually had to take an extra year of school because I was so bad at it."

"EWW!!"

"I KNOW, RIGHT?? But, then I went to college and graduated at the top of my class, so the joke's on them in the end."

"I wasn't even planning on staying around long enough for college…" She still has a bit of a depressed air about her, but she's not going into a panic. Maybe I'm better with kids than I thought.

"Yeah, I remember, you were going to turn into a beautiful crow and fly away forever." I try to give her a reassuring look. "But hey, the human world isn't ALL bad."

"Says the woman who's turning herself into a wild animal."

I snort quietly as I hold back a laugh. "Okay, fair, but wild animals don't get the internet, or nice little cafes where weirdos like us can just sit and talk."

"Hah, yeah… Weirdos like us." She gives a smile. An actual, genuine smile. Suddenly all the awkwardness is worth it, to see someone so deeply unhappy smile. "That reminds me, I saw on the server you're into witchcraft, can you… teach me?"

Somehow I feel like I should have expected this. The goth-looking crow girl is into witchcraft, big surprise. "I… guess? Maybe? I'm not like an expert or anything, I've just read a few books and cast a few spells is all."

"Ooh, what kind of spells??" And now she's back to her enthusiastic self.

"Just some protective charms on people who needed them, a few card readings with a tarot deck, nothing much really…"

"Does it really work??"

"I mean, the people I cast those charms on ended up safe in the end, but who knows if what I did made a difference? Some of the card readings were scary-accurate though, I think I might have a talent for divination."

She laughs. "Gonna have to get you to read my future sometime."

We end up spending the next hour or so making small talk, getting to know each other, talking about the ins and outs of humanity removal, complaining about Dr. Erian, until…

"Hey, I gotta go catch the bus back home, but… this was nice." She gives a bit of a smirk. "Cool to meet another weirdo."

Before she leaves, I ask her name - I still don't know it, I've been internally calling her 'corvid-girl' this entire time.

She gives me a disgusted grimace. "Ugh, it's 'Margaret'. I'm named for my great-grandmother, it's SUCH an old-lady name."

"Margaret, like Maggie, as in magpie?" I smile a little. "Those are corvids too, you know."

Her expression softens a little. "…Never thought of that. Still don't like it, though…"

"Well, is there a name you'd like better? I can start calling you that if you like."

She freezes. Somewhere in her eyes I can see her mind working to process what I've just said. "…Nobody ever asked me that before. I'll… think about it." She turns to leave.

"Wait, hold on a sec."

"WHAT!?" She outright glares at me, then seems to soften. "Sorry, it's… never mind."

That… was an EXTREMELY sudden mood shift. Trauma response, maybe? "I… was just going to ask if you wanted a sandwich or something to take home."

"…Didn't bring any money…"

I shake my head a little. "That doesn't answer my question. Would you like me to BUY you a sandwich or something?"

"…Egg salad if they got it I guess…"

I go up to the counter and buy her an egg salad sandwich to go. She looks like she's going to cry when I hand it to her. I… probably shouldn't make a big deal about that, but somewhere deep inside, my heart breaks a little. Does she never have anyone just… offer her food?

I'm beginning to understand why she wants to leave behind the curse of humanity. I chose this path, I wanted to be a tiger, I'm running towards something. Corvid-girl, though? She's running away from something.

I walk her outside, and she starts to walk away, but suddenly stops, and turns back to me. She walks resolutely up to me, then grabs me in a hug.

"Soft…" Her voice is muffled against both my shirt and the fur underneath. "You're very soft…"

Once I get over my surprise at the sudden gesture, I hesitantly put one arm around her shoulders and pat her on the back. She pulls away after a few short moments, and walks away down the sidewalk without another word.

I touch my shirt where her head was leaning, and notice a small wet spot.

---

Time to play "Spot the References!" Intentional references below:

"something about a 'foolish undine'" - welldrawnfish (Fish HRT)

"the first well-known humanity remover was a dragon-girl" - ayviedoesthings (Dragon HRT)

"I've been hanging out and playing online games with a lamia" - ariathelamia (Lamia HRT)

"someone out there transitioning to Sonic the Hedgehog" - sonic-spirit (Sonic HRT)

"watching a stream of this one dragon girl talking about her changes" - Rain, by Jocelyn Samara D. (Dragon HRT)

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | chapter 7: go ahead

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 5.8k

chapter warnings: injury, mentions of nausea/gagging, jealousy

a/n: i am not a doctor and i did minimal research on anything medical related

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

You arrive at the airport almost an hour before the members are supposed to show up and help to offload some of the luggage that wasn’t shipped directly to the arena. There’s already a crowd that buzzes to life when the company vehicles pull up. They quickly settle back down when they see that it’s only staff onboard, but you’re a little spooked by the number of professional looking cameras that had been pointed in your direction.

When the members show up, they pile out of the vans and line up to greet the crowd, before heading towards the security check-in. 

You’re impressed by how immune they are to the bright flashes, screams of their names, and having so many phones shoved in their faces. You follow at a sedated pace, not wanting to be captured in the pictures and videos, and wince a couple times when the security team has to step in and push away fans who have gotten a bit too close for comfort.

“Is it always like this?” you ask Eunsung in a low voice.

“Pretty much, I think today there are more people than usual.” He shrugs. “You’ll get used to it after a few more times. Probably when we’re in the United States then it won’t be the same, less fans but more people overall.”

You stare at the back of Chan’s head, covered both by a beanie and his hoodie, and try to imagine feeling as unbothered by the mass of bodies and cameras as he appears.

—

The flight to Japan is relatively unremarkable, it’s just over 2 hours which is enough for you to fall asleep, but not long enough to actually get some rest. Thankfully, Narita Airport isn’t as crowded with fans as Incheon Airport. There’s still a large group waiting at the arrival terminal, but you’re not as concerned as before.

 As much as you’d love to explore the city a bit, you’ve arrived so late in the evening that there’s no time to do anything but check in at the hotel and grab a quick dinner with your team before you have to head back. You’re tired enough that you don’t really mind, intent on saving up energy to enjoy yourself for these next shows.

Luckily, tomorrow isn’t a concert day, there’s a day of buffer before Friday, the first of the three concerts in Tokyo. There are more Japanese concerts, but they’re much later on and some of them haven’t even been announced to fans yet.

You spend the first day helping get the venue set up for the concert. It takes surprisingly long to unpack anything, and you’re exhausted by the time you’re in a car on the way back to the hotel.

When you unlock the door, Chan and Hyunjin both turn to stare, looking like deer in headlights. They’re clearly recording something, Hyunjin has headphones on and is carrying a portable microphone. You back away without saying a word, and close the door quietly behind you. 

You text Chan a quick apology for interrupting, then message Felix, asking if he’s busy. When all he does is send you his room number and a million exclamation marks in response, you make your way down the hallway. The boys have individual rooms, but they’re all clustered together on the same floor so it doesn’t take long before you’re standing in front of his door. You take a moment to compose yourself. You’ve been trying so hard to not bother Chan, but it seems like no matter what, you’ve found a way to be a nuisance.

You end up spending the rest of the evening sprawled over Felix’s bed as he, Han, and Minho eat their way through a variety of Japanese convenience store snacks. You try a few of them, but after a couple with strange flavours that none of you can manage to swallow, play it safe by slowly emptying a packet of fruit jellies. 

—

Surprisingly, the first concert goes smoother than any of the Seoul dates. The Japanese staff are extremely helpful and organised, although you’re not even close to fluent in speaking Japanese. 

As you’re waffling between staying up to see when Chan comes back and just going to sleep without him, your phone lights up with an incoming text.

[12:24 am - received]

Sorry, lost track of time and forgot to let you know but I’m recording something with Sungie rn

I’ll try to be back soon, but don’t wait up

Sorry

At this point, you’re not surprised, just disappointed. You had heard that the members got more free time while touring and had stupidly gotten your hopes up that it would mean Chan would take some of that time to get proper rest. You keep telling yourself that you should trust him and that he’ll actually take care of himself if he needs to, but it doesn’t stop you from worrying about his health. You know that if you’re feeling effects from not spending enough time with him, then he must be too and that scares you more than you think it should. 

—

It’s almost like the day before went too well, because bad luck strikes in no time. A few of the managers and coordis have come down with something by the afternoon of the second concert, leaving the team dangerously short staffed. There isn't enough time to get any replacements, the only option is to divy up the responsibilities as evenly as possible.

Shortly before the start of the concert, you’re tasked with distributing the baskets of water bottles and hand towels around the edges of the stage for the boys to use as they perform. It’s nerve-wracking to peek out at the audience, you can hear their chatter from where you stand on the sidelines. Doors have already opened and many Stays are already seated, eagerly awaiting the show. You’re grateful for the mask that you had decided to put on at the last second as there are multiple people who look up as you walk on stage, a few of them even cheer as you set the little basket down near their section. You just bow to them and then quickly make your way off, sighing in relief when you are finally out of sight. You have no idea how Chan or any of the members could handle being in the spotlight with so many eyes on them.

By the end of the evening, you’re so drained from running around backstage and hauling various equipment, outfits, and accessories around. You get a couple of concerned looks from a few of the staff when a bout of dizziness forces you to put a hand on the wall for support. You wave them off and laugh, but are forced to take a minute to wait for the vertigo to recede. 

Luckily, you can hear the strains of the encore music starting and know that it’s an okay time to take a short break. You make your way to the staff room without a problem and pick over the leftover food. It’s only when you start eating that you realise just how hungry you are. 

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Yonghwan walks in just as you take another bite and your cheeks flush as you have to chew quickly to swallow the food.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t have a chance to have a break for dinner until now.”

“Oh,” he falters. “I’m really sorry to ask, but do you know when you’ll be finished? We’re getting everyone ready to clean up.”

You wipe your mouth and stand up to throw away the remains of the bento box that you were eating, there isn’t much left in it anyway. The sudden movement is enough to leave you light-headed for a second, but you catch yourself with a hand on the table beside you and recover almost right away.

“I’m done!” you say brightly, relieved to see that Yonghwan is typing something on his phone and hadn’t noticed your brief lack of balance. “We can go now.”

—

Your late meal seemed to have done the trick, giving you enough energy to help out after the show without any problems. 

On the ride back to the hotel, you fish out your phone to find a few unread messages from Chan, first letting you know that he was doing a live in Minho’s room, then heading to the gym with some of the guys. You’re oddly touched that he kept you updated and also how he’s been going out of his way to leave your shared room available for you to use since that first night, even if it’s more inconvenient.

The room is still empty when you make it back, but Chan returns when you’re halfway through your nighttime routine. You pop your head out of the bathroom to greet him and hurry through the last few steps of your skincare, but by the time you’re finished, he’s already situated himself at the desk, hunched over his laptop with a pair of headphones on. As the days in Japan have passed, he’s unearthed more and more equipment from his luggage and it’s all spread on a couple tables in your hotel room. 

You bite back a sigh at the familiar sight and skirt around him to climb into bed. It’s close to 1 in the morning and you’re exhausted. The long hours you’ve been doing combined with the amount of running around required for each concert means that you’re sure you’ll pass out the second that your head hits the pillow. Already your arms and legs ache from the extra physical work that you had to do and you’re sure that you’ll be extremely sore tomorrow.

You know you’ve been running low on Charge, that it's one of the reasons why you’ve felt so worn out these days, but at the same time, you don’t want to interrupt Chan. You’re trying to respect his boundaries and honestly, you’re a bit wary of what his reaction could be if you asked him to stop for the day. Sure, he hasn’t snapped at you or raised his voice at all since that night in his studio, but you’re still hesitant to broach the subject.  

The light is still on, but there’s the rhythmic sounds of Chan working and the hum of an air conditioner that are making your eyes heavier and heavier. You give in, putting your phone onto the side table and nestle into the blankets.

Suddenly your alarm is chirping in your ear. You turn it off immediately, not wanting to disturb Chan, then sit up blearily, not sure how it’s already morning. 

You’re still so tired.

It feels like you haven't rested at all, even though Chan’s arm is still slung around your waist and your legs are touching. You rub the grit from your eyes and give yourself another second before getting up. Your vision whites out briefly and your muscles protest when you finally stand. When you stumble into the bathroom, you splash your face with cold water, hoping that it’ll help shock you awake. 

You’re reminded of when you were a teenager and forced to pull long hours to study for the CSAT. At that time, your brother had already graduated and was well on his way to becoming a doctor. While you were proud of your brother, his successes had always increased the expectations on you. He had excelled in science and your parents had been thrilled that he was following in your abeoji’s footsteps. On the other hand, you had set your sights on majoring in business, a degree that was more manageable, but still fairly well respected. 

That didn’t make things any easier, though. Throughout your schooling, your eomoni had always strictly monitored your grades and social life. She kept close tabs on your attendance at cram school, organised sessions with private tutors, and was liberal with her scoldings whenever you weren’t within the top students in your class. The pressure had been unbearable and the only thing that had gotten you through was the knowledge that making it into a good university would get you out of your family home.

You don’t know if it’s the time that has passed since then or some sort of influence from the soulmate bond, but you’ve never experienced such strong physical impacts from lack of sleep. Maybe life after university has spoiled you a bit too much. Prior to your switch to managing Stray Kids, you had gotten used to at least 6 or 7 hours of sleep each night, a far cry from when you were studying and lucky to get 5 hours.

You had been a little bit miserable all the time, but looking back, it had been a valuable experience. You had learned a lot about time management, prioritisation, and most importantly, how to ensure sleep deprivation didn’t affect your performance. 

—

Unfortunately, there’s no miracle that occurred overnight, and when you get to the concert venue in the morning, there’s still a significant number of staff who are unwell. It’s less than ideal, but at least the day before proved that the team will at least be able to survive the night.

You end up trailing behind Eunsung, tasked with retrieving cases that contain backup microphones that were somehow lost when everything was put away after yesterday’s concert. This area backstage is poorly lit and crammed with boxes and equipment that’s all shoved to one side so that there’s just barely enough space to have a walkway. It’s not a surprise that the microphones weren’t found earlier.

The case that you’re holding is heavy, and you have to lean to one side so that your body weight can aid in keeping you balanced. Ahead of you, Eunsung is easily carrying one in each hand, while your arms are starting to tremble from exertion. 

You’re suddenly overcome by another wave of dizziness, something you’re getting better at anticipating. You slow down to take a break and steady yourself, but the case that you’re holding clips the edge of some scaffolding at the same time that your foot doesn’t quite clear a bump in the ground where a bundle of cabling has been taped down. The microphones are dropped with a thud, you lurch to the side and close your eyes, bracing for impact. 

You don’t even feel yourself hit the ground. 

The next thing you know, you’re blinking back stars, shrinking away from a light that’s shining directly in your eyes, but a hand cradling the back of your head prevents you from moving too far. 

“What?” you try to say, but your voice comes out sounding warped. Your head is pounding and feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. The light turns off and you sigh in relief, it reduces the pain to a dull throbbing that seems to be in time with your heartbeat. Your vision is blurred and you can barely make out the face of the person that’s holding onto you. “Eunsung.”

“Oh good, you can recognise me. Do you remember your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Good. And do you remember where we are?”

“Concert,” you say. That part is easy, the music is so loud that you can feel the vibrations of the bass from where you’re lying on the ground. Even from here, there’s faint cheering that you can hear every so often.

“Do you know whose concert?”

“St- Stray… Stray Kids.” It would be embarrassing how long it takes you to recall the name of the group, but your headache makes it hard to think, let alone feel anything other than pain.

“Okay. What country are we in?”

After a moment, you finally remember, “Japan.”

“Perfect. Do you remember what happened?”

“Uhm. I was… tired. I fell.” 

“Great. Now are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Mmm. Dizzy I think.” 

You crack your eyes open and when the room spins around you, immediately retch. When nothing but bile is brought up, you remember that you've hardly eaten anything today. The concert has already passed its halfway point and you don't even recall stopping for a lunch break. The increased pressure from your gagging makes the pain in your head explode and it takes everything in you to keep the nausea at bay. At your side, Eunsung takes exaggerated breaths and you force yourself to follow them, feeling a little bit better once you’re able to breathe properly again.

“Okay. Seems like you might have a concussion, but I'm hopeful that it’s only a mild one. I’m concerned about the fact that you were unconscious, but it was only a few seconds and otherwise you don’t seem that bad. I really want to get you to an actual doctor, but first let’s get you sitting upright and see how you feel then.”

Sometimes you forget that Eunsung has done extensive safety training and doubles as a first aid attendant for the team. Now, it’s obvious. He’s clinical and calm, hands steady as they support your back and neck before lifting you into a sitting position. 

Even though he does it slowly, your vision swims and you start to list to the right, away from where Eunsung is crouched beside you. He’s quick to grab your shoulder and tip you back. You keep going until your forehead hits his chest and this time, he doesn’t try to correct you, just wraps his arm around you securely and lets you stay there.

“Y/n, how are you feeling now?”

“Hurts,” you say, turning your face towards Eunsung so that his body blocks out all the light. It had seemed so dim earlier, but now you can barely open your eyes without tears forming. Even that movement makes the ache in your head intensify and you let out a groan.

“Can you be more specific? Does anywhere hurt more?”

“Head.” You lift your hand and fumble, trying to pinpoint where the pain is coming from. Your fingers hit a tender spot and you immediately retract your hand, not wanting to get close to that area again. “Ow, there.”

“Good job. That’s here you hit your head, but it doesn't look like there’s any blood, which is a good sign. I’m going to get you some ice and try to get the swelling done.” At that you clutch at his shirt tightly.

“No no no, don’t go,” you say frantically.

“I- Okay. Are you still nauseous?”

“Uhm.” You take a moment to assess yourself, then confirm. “Not anymore.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going to bring you with me and we’ll get you to a better place to rest. I’m just going to lift you up and I think I saw that there was a room close to here that would be good.” It sounds like he’s talking more to himself than you, and you’re happy to stay quiet. He guides your arms to loop around his head and then gently lifts you, one arm around your back and the other under your knees. “Y/n? Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you say faintly. “Just go.”

He takes a couple steps before you stop him, tugging at his shoulder.

“Wait! Oppa,” you say urgently.

“What?” he asks, panic leaking into his voice for the first time.

“The microphones. We need to bring them back too.”

“The- Y/n, who cares about the microphones! You just bashed your head against the side of a trunk so hard that you blacked out. You need medical attention right now!”

“But, the show,” you say meekly. “They need the microphones.”

“Yn- Okay,” Eunsung says with a sigh. He can probably tell that you’re not going to budge on this. “We’re going to bring you somewhere safe to rest. I’ll get some ice for your head. Then I’ll ask someone else to bring the microphones.”

“Mm, okay.”

He continues walking and you have to bite your lip hard to stop yourself from making any noise. Although you know he’s trying his best to be gentle, the slight jostling of each step just exacerbates your headache. It’s hard for you to track the time passing, but eventually he eases you onto a couch, reappears with ice, then collects you in his arms again to carry you to a company car.

It’s surprisingly fast getting you to see a medical professional. One of the Japanese staff accompanies you to help translate and the three of you are relieved when the doctor allows you to go home. He goes on for a while, explaining symptoms that you can expect and a recovery plan, but you tune it all out, trusting that Eunsung and the other staff member will keep track of it all. Before you know it, you’re back at the hotel where you force Eunsung to bring you back to his room.

“They said it was just a minor concussion, right?” you ask once you’re settled in bed. You feel remarkably better after having something to eat and drink and being able to spend time not moving. Your stomach has settled now that there’s food in it and your dizziness has subsided almost completely.

“Yes, luckily it’s not too serious. You had me really worried for a moment.”

“I’m sorry. This is really bad timing too. Did they say how long it’ll be until I can work again?”

"Normally, it'd be at least a couple weeks until you feel better, but with the soulmate bond? He said your recovery will go more smoothly. Could be half that, maybe even more depending on how much Charge you get."

"What if- what if I'm not getting enough Charge. It’d still just be two weeks right?” you ask, avoiding Eunsung’s gaze.

“Y/n,” he says warningly.

“I- Things have been busy. We’re both… busy,” you say weakly.

“How much less?” 

“My head hurts,” you say instead.

“Y/n-”

“I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I want to sleep.” You turn so that you’re facing the wall. Moving again makes your head throb, although the painkillers that you’ve been prescribed are starting to dull the pain.

Eunsung sighs. “You can rest for now,” he says to your back. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You know you're going to have to move back to your room tonight, but the doctor advised you to have someone monitor your condition for the next while. Based on the past few days, you have no idea when Chan will be back, so it’s easier to just stay with Eunsung. You know how much of a hypocrite it will make you seem to have scolded Chan about resting when it turns out that you've also been neglecting your own health and you're already embarrassed enough. You don't think you can face him right now.

You were telling the truth when you said you were tired, but still sleep doesn't come easy.

—

Coming off stage, Chan feels great. The energy from the crowd, being able to see so many Stays, having a chance to have a lot of fun with the rest of the members, it makes all the long hours and sleepless nights worth it.

After handing off his mic and taking a final group picture, Chan searches for Y/n. He’s so happy and he wants to share this moment with her. A brief look around doesn’t yield any results, but Chan’s not concerned, he knows that even though the job is finished for him, the staff still have a lot of work to do.

He manages to catch Minyoung as she’s shoving cases of makeup into a large tub.

“Hey, just wondering if you’ve seen Y/n around? Had something I wanted to talk to her about.”

“Ah,” she says. “I haven’t seen her around, I think that something came up during the show.”

“Oh, thanks.” Chan’s mood rapidly sours, but he does his best not to show it. He checks his phone again, but there’s no new messages from Y/n. It’s odd, but Chan wants to give Y/n the benefit of the doubt and not jump to conclusions. It wouldn’t be the first time that Y/n got pulled away to deal with a different issue or was too busy to notice that her phone battery died, he reasons.

“We still have that dinner tonight, she’ll probably turn up there.”

“Right!” Chan had forgotten all about the dinner that was planned as both a celebration and a kick off for the tour. He feels a bit better knowing that attendance to the event is basically mandatory and the rest of the staff must be scrambling to get everything finished before then.

The restaurant that they head to has been fully rented out, so they don’t have to worry about being spotted. It’s crowded with staff, some being people that Chan has never even seen. 

When he hears a couple of coordis sitting at an adjacent table mention ‘Y/n’ and ‘soulmate’ in the same sentence, he’s instantly on guard and focuses on what they’re saying. If it was somehow found out that Y/n is his soulmate, it would explain her sudden disappearance. They would need to contain that information fast.

“They’re just so cute together, it must be so nice to have a soulmate,” one of them sighs.

“And especially one you work with, since we’re going to be travelling so much. I heard that they left early together today,” the other says conspiratorially, resulting in a gasp from her friend. Chan's confused, but keeps listening. “I wish I could do that, I think I would be fired on the spot if I even thought about taking a break during the concert.” 

“Oh! Someone mentioned that they did see Eunsung-ssi basically carrying someone out earlier, I guess it was Y/n-ssi. Lucky girl,“ the coordi says wistfully.

Eunsung? Y/n leaving early? It's not unusual for Chan to not be able to keep track of where Y/n is and he couldn’t be that obvious about asking around for her, but she’s never actually left without at least texting him before. It would explain why he still couldn’t spot her when he had glanced around the restaurant.

“Hyung.” Jeongin cuts off his train of thought. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chan looks down to see that okonomiyaki that was in his plate has been subconsciously shredded by his chopsticks and has basically reverted back to its precooked form, just a pile of ingredients. Being on stage always requires a lot of energy and before this meal, Chan had been starving. He’s starting to regret the amount of food that he had scarfed down though, it has seemed to all consolidate into one big lump that now sits uneasy in his stomach. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just got full all of a sudden.” He pushes away his dish, the sight of the uneaten food is enough to make him feel a little queasy.

They’re interrupted by clapping and look up to see that a cake is being brought out, fizzling sparklers and a printed image of a tour poster decorating the top. Chan joins the group to take a picture, but can only manage to swallow a couple bites of the cake before he hands it off to Jisung who happily finishes it.

When Chan gets back to the hotel, Y/n still isn't in their room yet. He checks his phone again, but there’s still no notifications from Y/n. He sends off a message, asking if everything is okay then showers. When he checks his phone again, there’s still nothing. 

At that moment, Chan hears the familiar whir of the lock and he looks up at Y/n shuffles in.

"Oh, you're back already," she says, eyebrows jumping up in surprise when she notices him.

"Where else would I be?" Chan replies. Even he can tell his tone is more waspish than usual and Y/n pauses only a couple steps from the door.

"Uhm. Sorry," she says cautiously. "I just thought you might have been at the gym or something. You're usually out until later than this." Chan narrows his eyes at her response.

“We had the team dinner tonight.”

“Oh, was that today? I completely forgot.” 

"And where were you?"

"I- I wasn't feeling that well. I left the concert a bit early to get some rest." Now that she mentions it, Chan can tell she’s holding her body differently, more gingerly, like any sudden movement could cause pain.

"But you weren't here, where did you go?"

"I didn't know if I was getting sick. I was concerned about passing something on to you so we found a doctor that could see me on short notice. They said everything was fine."

"Oh," Chan says, starting to feel bad now. He shouldn't have paid attention to what the coordis were insinuating. "Sorry, I just-"

"Just wanted to snap at me?"

“You didn’t text,” he says lamely.

“Sorry. I wasn't thinking straight, I forgot to let you know.”

"I guess I was just worried," Chan admits. "I couldn't find you after the concert and you weren’t at dinner, I didn't know what happened."

"Sorry,” she says again, “Things were kind of hectic. I- I didn’t know that you would notice. And I really did forget about the dinner.”

“Wait, did you go by yourself?” Chan doesn’t know if he’s asking to see if there was any truth in the overheard conversation or because he feels nervous about Y/n out in a foreign city by herself. 

“No, Eunsung-oppa was with me.”

“Oh?” Chan tries to sound nonchalant. This whole conversation has been a rollercoaster ride of emotions and he’s ready to get off.

“He’s the one in our team that we go to for anything medical related. He does the first aid training and knows all the protocol for if we have to fill out paperwork. We also had one of the Japanese staff there to help translate.”

“Ah.” Chan’s an idiot. He feels like the worst person in the world. He’s so dumb for jumping to conclusions. 

“Yeah.”

"As long as you're okay. Come here."

Chan opens his arms. When Y/n walks into his embrace, they both sigh in relief.

“Feel better?” Chan asks.

“Yeah, I guess I was just tired,” she says, but there’s something weird in her voice. He pulls away slightly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah! Just- just had a weird day. And… I had a headache. But really, I’m fine now. I feel a lot better knowing I’m not going to get you or any of the guys sick. How was the concert?”

“It was good! Great, actually,” he says. Thinking about it brings a smile back to his face. “I know things are busy for you right now, but we’ll have to get you in the crowd for one of the nights! I want you to be able to see the show that you worked so hard on, it’d be a lot of fun.”

“I’d like that too,” Y/n says, smiling wistfully.

“I can mention it to Yonghwan, he can figure out logistics. We always have some tickets reserved in case we want to invite guests, they’re good seats. Maybe a little far back, but you’ll be able to see everything that way. One of the cities we’re doing multiple days might be best, I know the second show would probably be less busy for your team.” He stops himself when he catches Y/n trying to hide a yawn. “You must be tired, sorry I’m rambling. Go wash up, we can go to bed now.”

He releases her from their embrace and watches as she has to collect herself the second they break contact. She's obviously still not feeling well, but Chan bites his tongue instead of voicing his concern. He could see that Charging had seemed to relieve her symptoms and they’re about to sleep anyway. They’re going home tomorrow, but don’t have to leave until the afternoon so Chan’s looking forward to finally getting something close to a full night of rest.

—

Usually at airports, Chan tries to tune out all his surroundings. He’s aware of the occasional sasaeng that gets tickets to follow them into the departure area or even onto their flight, but knows better than to give them any attention. Today, he happens to sit right beside the two coordis that he heard gossiping last night. Trying to be casual, he turns off his music and slides off his headphones so that he can better hear what they're saying.

"-so glad to be heading back home. It feels like it's been forever since I've seen my boyfriend." He catches one of them saying.

"Ugh, at least you have a boyfriend. I haven't been on a good date in months!"

"Maybe you can find one at work too. Didn't Y/n-ssi and Eunsung-ssi meet at the company?"

"You're like, obsessed with them. I swear, one of these days they're going to find out you keep talking about them."

"Oh come on, if they didn't want people to talk then they wouldn't be so obvious about it. Look at the two of them now, you can’t say that they're doing a very good job of hiding that they're soulmates."

Last night proved why Chan shouldn’t give weight to any of their comments, but still Chan looks up from where he’s been pretending to read something on his phone. Eunsung and Y/n are sitting shoulder to shoulder, laughing at something on one of their phones. Something curdles in Chan’s stomach as he watches them. 

“It doesn’t help that Eunsung-ssi is so handsome. I’m sure he could have been an idol or at least a model with those looks if he wanted to. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him if I were Y/n-ssi either.” The coordis both giggle at that.

Eunsung is tall, at least 180 cm, with broad shoulders, perfect double eyelids, and a stupidly symmetrical face. His hair seems to always fall in artful waves over his forehead and when he smiles, it reveals his even and bright white teeth. It’s true that he looks more like a stereotypical idol than Chan does, even after hair and makeup have transformed him into a different person. Chan doesn’t notice that he’s glaring until Seungmin nudges him gently.

“Hyung, any reason you’re practically burning a hole in the side of Y/n-noona’s head?”

“Huh? Y/n, no- I- just-” The pair laughs again, Y/n tilting off to the side as she closes her eyes. Eunsung reaches out to steady her with a hand to the shoulder and doesn’t remove it. Instead, he uses the contact to pull her closer so that she can lean against him. 

Chan forgets what he was saying. Seungmin eyes him knowingly. For once, he doesn’t make any comment.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

Okay who's ready for the idea I had about Pixal loosing her memories, I got fluff reunion for yall, cause this idea ran with itself

Context Pixal lost her memories after an accident occurred while she was trying to get home after the merge and ended up in Akita's village unknowingly for the last however long it's been that was until Akita met up with them recognized the woman in the photo,

Pixane my beloved if the writers won't do anything with you guys I will.

.

.

Zane pushed a branch aside, scanning the area. If he had a heart rhythm he knew it'd be racing. It was a weird feeling knowing that she was somewhere amongst the trees of what he assumed was formerly Birchwood Forest,

She had shown up in the place that was nearest to his heart besides her, which warmed him, but it also did confuse him a bit, truly these people popping back up after the merge showed either in meaningful places or just plain random luck of the draw,

Stopping he scanned the area again before he saw a tree, zooming in on it as he walked up, he saw familar old sap tappingmarks s in its bark brushing a hand against it he realized it was because him and his father had made these, his old house was a little more Northern and if he recalled correct, there were bushes of Winter Berry's near there they were great medical plants of the anti inflammatory sort, taking off in a jog towards the site he knew,stopping short as he came to them,

knelt in the snow next to the bush, a basket beside her was Pixal. He instantly ducked as something snapped under his weight, she instantly looked up, scanning the area before she returned to plucking the berries from the bush. He wanted to run up and embrace her like old times, his power source aching to bring her home, to reconnect where they had left off, however Akitas warning echoed

She doesn't remember who she is or anything about herself.

He had to be tactful, but knew exactly how to handle this just like she'd taken care of him when he himself also had Amnesia. Slowly he emerged from the cover he'd ducked under, she instantly turned and stood up nearly dumping the basket, he held a pensive hand out to show he was no threat,

"It is alright Amkani, I wish no harm. I am Zane, an old friend," he pulled the talisman she'd carved out of its pouch, she eyed him with apprehension "You told Akita to bring this-"

"To the one who knows who I am" she finished almost sounding like she did not believe it,

Reaching into another pouch he pulled the photo out, it was the last one they'd taken just before the Merge, under the Cherry tree in front of the monastery. He offered the item to her, she took it disbelief in her Optics as he explained,

"You are Pixal Borg Created by the Inventor known as Doctor Cyrus Borg in the year 2012, the 16th unit. You were also our Sister in arms, Samurai VXL"

Her fingertips ever so gently brushed across, absorbing all the details of their faces he knew a million thoughts had to be rushing through her processor it was like he had just answered the greatest questions to life itself,

"My name is Pixal?" She finally asked,with such chariness as if she did not believe that this could be true, like she didn't believe this was truly happening,

"Yes," finally a small breath of a laugh escaped, relief filling her eyes as she looked to him, but also a sadness,

"Why then can I not remember you, this picture, I am leaned into you. It shows trust, love, affection and I feel deeply like I know you....but I cannot recall anything,"

Frustration flashed quickly and he sighed,

"I do not know, but I can with your permission run a diagnostic on you. Perhaps you fell or were struck in a way that knocked your memory banks offline,"

The way her eyes lit up as if recalling a memory long passed,

"What is it?

"It was my first memory, I woke up alone in this Forest there was an embankment nearby along with ice shards and I saw tracks like I had been running there was a rock under my head and black liquid dripped from an injury I had sustained, I managed to stumble for an undeterminate amount of time before Akita found me."

"There are creatures in this Forest called tree horns perhaps you ran into them. On your own they can be very difficult to tackle due to their size,"

"I would agree to that theory."

He smiled as she returned to her work after handing the photo back, he cleared the snow and knelt beside her helping to pick the berries,

"So Zane, you seem to have an affinity for snow and ice."

"You are not startled?" He questioned hearing her laugh as he plucked a few of the berries, how he had missed hearing her laughter as she shook her head

"No, when you have lived around people who can turn into the very animals of the forest surrounding us, well an individual who can control the very ice and snow that also envelops us it is not too surprising."

She still had that whip smart logicalty that made him now smile,

"That is a very astute answer,"

A sense of pride now emanated from her, with the same ease although Pixal could not remember herself her personality was still there even though she could not remember what they had been through he still felt like she was home,

A quietness surrounded them, working together to gather the fruit, with how much they were collecting he inquired,

"So do you use these berries beyond medicine?" She smiled nodding,

"Yes, it takes quite a lot but I like the purple inside," She popped one between her fingers showing a bright purple interior" it makes for not only great medicine but also a dye that is vibrant, this parka I wear I spent many moons collecting the berries to dye it the deep purple that it is,"

He blinked again, caught off guard a bit at the intelligence shown, how he had also missed that how she'd catch him off guard,

" I had never thought of that, I wonder if my father did too,"

She looked at him in confusion " well this Forest around us it is actually a part of Ninjago or what was Ninjago, this was the Birchwood Forest. My original home was around here, my own Creator and father Dr Julian used to pluck these berries for his arthritic condition as he got older I would do the task for him."

He looked fondly at the unassuming white berry,

"You must have cared much for him," he nodded,

" he taught me much about these forests, " he scanned around spotting a tree with an injury sap dripping from it so he pointed," The Sap of the Birchwood makes a very sweet treat but can also be used in a pinch for a makeshift explosive."

She blinked looking surprised, as he looked around this time spotting a pretty blue flower, motioning towards it

"And we almost never touched those because it causes cardiac effects, possibly could harm someone if the medicine person is not knowledgeable. My father did figure out how to turn it into something he called blood pressure medication,"

She actually looked excited at that one,

" With a lot of Elders in our Villageaybe you could share that recipe so many their hearts are struggling." He nodded,

"Indeed,"

[fandom-fantasy-fuel]

Darth Vader head-canon dump below:

I don't know anyone else who has this take on Darth Vader but first of all, to me he has always looked and sounded like James Earl Jones when he's without the armour. The man was such a crucial part of making that character that I can't picture him otherwise.

I hate the take that his real voice is almost non-existent and the one we hear is completely synthesised from a breathy wheeze? I've noticed a lot of people seem determined to remove everything cool and sexy about Vader and looove obsessing over him actually being super weak mentally and physically, held together by duct-tape, constantly suffering from every kind of botched medical experiment and suicidally depressed.

I don't get why you'd do him a disservice like that, yes he went through some hellish physical trauma but I see him as a character who overcome most of that with sheer determination and is extremely resilient and strong, deriving his power from rage and fanaticism, not sadness.

He would not think of himself as a monster in a "I hate myself, I'm an abomination, I want to die" way, he'd think it's sick as hell and enjoy being monstrous in the sense that he is the ultimate embodiment of the darkside and is set apart from other people by being absurdly overpowered and mysterious. He'd love to play up that intimidation factor and leans into being considered inhuman by pretending he doesn't eat or sleep, for instance. He'd take it like a complement when people think "there's no way he could be human he's too unnatural and powerful" but Vader would never think less of himself or think he's more machine than man for having technology integrated with biology, it's just an extension of himself and he's always had an affinity with technology and would feel those parts of himself through the force just the same.

I think it's a bad take when people go 'he was constantly at odds with his prosthetics and mods which were badly made, also he'd be completely fucked if the wrong button was pressed or anything broke because he's that dependent and impotent without them and his 50 prescription drugs.' Nah man, that Absolute Unit can handle anything thrown at him and made a literally miraculous recovery through the force!

I get that he would have some physical challenges but I feel like some Vader fans have a kind of munchaussen-by-proxy thing going on tbh (I don't think that's the right term but I can't think of what to call it), the way they fetishise his disabilities and hyper-focus on details like colostomy bags and how much care he would require. (Don't come at me for being ableist I'm literally writing this from my hospital bed with an IV hooked up)

[masterwords]

it's here in the ashes

Summary: Sam Cooper was many things. He was an exemplary leader, an intuitive field agent, a brilliant mind. He was a calm presence amid a raging storm, someone who always knew what to say and when to say it...but more importantly, when to keep quiet. He was many things, but if you asked Hotch he’d probably just say that Sam Cooper was a great friend. This is just a snapshot of that friendship. (Coda to 5x01, my usual haunting ground)

Pairing: None (but you could say Hotch/Morgan...it's heavily implied but not explicitly said, basically just like canon)

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: religious (christian) overtones, church, stab wounds, medication, pain (post foyet stabbing y'know y'know)

Notes: I've wanted to write more about Hotch & Sam's friendship. Sam, if you don't remember, is from 5x18 - The Fight and the Unit Chief of the Red Cell team in the spinoff Suspect Behavior. I'll probably start a whole series dedicated to all these one-off characters that are so beloved to me so they're all in one place. Hotch needs friends, yo. And anyway, he's so cute with Cooper that I really need to explore more of that.

No one came to see him after he was released from the hospital.

The team were busy, they sent texts and more than once take-out meals so he didn’t have to cook, but no one came by. He knew it probably had a lot more to do with him than them. He could picture Garcia worrying herself sick over whether to pop by to check on him or bring him a plate of cookies, and he could picture Dave telling her to do what she thought was best. Well, that resulted in a lot of well meaning texts and nothing more.

He was fine with that, too. He didn’t particularly want company. Didn’t much feel like conversation, like being under the watchful eye, like being pitied.

Jessica was coming by, out of some strict (and utterly insane if you asked Hotch) sense of duty more than anything. She was angry at him for sure, angry and indignant but she helped him change his bandages and made sure he took his medications. “For Jack,” she muttered when he asked her one particularly bad night why she insisted on showing up every single day when he knew she didn’t want to be there. When he knew she had better things to do. Her neighbor was feeding her cat so she could clean up wounds on a man she could barely stand to look at. “Because he’s going to need a dad to come home to. Now swallow the damn pill and go to sleep.”

Her anger lasted about a week. She never had managed to focus on one thing for very long – her fire burned hot and fast. She’d picked him up from the hospital and brought him home, and for that whole week she was frustrated and short with him, asking him why he didn’t just call his mother or Sean to come and help because he was more or less incapable of just about every activity of daily living. He stubbornly maintained he could do it on his own, and for what it was worth, he did. Not well, and he definitely shouldn’t have been doing any of it, but he didn’t see as he had much choice in the matter. She knew it too, and that fact alone kept her coming back to check, afraid one day she’d show up and find him face down on the floor bleeding out. So, it was a week of burning anger and then slowly it melted into something not so hot. Not so sharp. She began sitting with him for an hour, turning on the TV or cleaning his bathroom, asking how he was feeling with more than just a clinical interest. Remembering that she did love him too, in spite of his rampant stupidity. In spite of his...well everything about him.

But he didn’t seem to make any real progress toward rejoining the living until Sam Cooper showed up on his doorstep.

“Hi,” he said, extending his hand to Jessica with the bright smile of someone who sleeps and eats and works out at regular, healthy intervals. Something foreign at the moment to both she and Hotch who had more or less become couch potatoes. She was eating enough for two (there were a lot of feelings to be stuffed into a bowl of cereal that quickly became two bowls at 10pm whens he couldn’t sleep), he wasn’t eating at all (meds and pain and stubborn refusal to do anything that resembled living). It wasn’t a great situation. “I’m Sam, a friend from work.”

“Sam Cooper,” she said with a tired smile. “I’ve heard stories. I’m Jessica.”

“Right. Ex-wife’s sister?”

“That’s the one. Do you need something from him? He’s asleep right now.”

Sam smiled again and shrugged. He carried himself with such a laid back swagger that she couldn’t help the way her own shoulders loosened in his presence. “Nah. I just wanted to check up on him. Thought I’d give it a week or so for him to be home before I came knocking. He can be a little skittish.”

“Oh, yeah, well...why don’t you come in? I’m sure he’d love to see you. Or anyone really that isn’t me barking at him.”

“Has he had many visitors?”

“Well counting you and me...two.”

Sam nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, fingers gently pulling at the prayer beads he kept around his wrist as he took in the apartment. He’d been here more than once, helped Hotch move a few boxes here and there. More to check up on him, support him through his time of need than actual help – he’d had movers do most of the heavy lifting. Ultimately the place didn’t look much different but it felt different. It felt wrong. He could see Foyet there by the washer, feel his presence as he got to know the intimate details of Hotch’s place while he was away...how long was he here? Did he leave anything behind?

The apartment smelled stale but clean, closed windows and bleach. There were banker boxes piled up where he supposed a china hutch or some nice piece of furniture might look better, and there were case files covering a table that was more for show than for eating. He thought about Jack, wondered if he might find some renegade legos stashed beneath the couch or a crayon on a bookshelf. He wondered if Foyet went into Jack’s room, if he dug through Hotch’s entire life while he was away.

“That’s about what I expected,” he said finally, as if coming out of a long trance.

“Really? I honestly thought that his team would be here all the time. The way he is about them, you know? That they’d be hanging around and getting him to work and…”

“I talked to Agent Morgan this morning before I made the decision to come by. He said he’s been texting with Hotch every day but he’s afraid of opening up too many lines of communication because Hotch needs to rest and heal, and his instinct is always to pour himself into work as quickly as possible.”

“So they’re protecting him from himself by not coming? Is that what they think they’re doing?” She couldn’t mask her disgust. He gave up his marriage for them and they couldn’t even bother stopping by to check on him.

“I said that’s what Morgan said. I don’t know about the rest of them, don’t really know ‘em. Morgan comes and works out in my gym every day. How is he?”

“Well. He’s lonely and grouchy. In a lot of pain and pretty angry about it.”

“How long have you been here?”

“All morning. I practically live here now.”

Sam continued his pass through inspection of Hotch’s place and frowned at the spot on the carpet that was covered by an out of place looking rug. Jessica wouldn’t look at it. “That’s where...I guess they couldn’t get the stain out…I brought a rug from my place. I know it’s stupid, putting that there. It’s a bath mat, it looks silly it’s just…they said it would be a couple of weeks before they could get someone out to replace that spot with new carpet.”

“You should go, take some time to yourself. Have some lunch, a nap, something. I’ll handle him when he wakes up.”

She scrunched her nose and he had the distinct impression that she’d known Hotch a long time, a very long time, and through her aloof exterior she cared very much and maybe didn’t want to leave. She was protective of him, that was for sure.

“If you want,” he followed it up with a cautious smile. “I only want to help.”

That made her features soften into a halfway smile. “I could use a shower.”

Sam busied himself by putting away all of Hotch’s case files, clearing off his table. It was a task Jessica had mentioned wanting to do but not knowing where to start. “I think he just leaves them there because they make him feel something. He doesn’t do anything with them. I covered a few up because the pictures were…” she shook her head in disbelief. “I covered them up. That probably makes me a terrible person.”

“You said they’re going to be a couple of weeks on the carpet replacement?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t let him come out here and see that every day. And I know it sounds stupid because they cleaned it really well but if I can see it...I feel like I can smell it.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid. I can smell it. I’m going to make some calls, we can get that taken care of.”

“They said that it got into the sub floor and all of the padding, the whole thing has to be replaced. He was there...it was…”

“I understand. I’ll take care of it.”

Sam’s presence was calming to her, and when she finally slung her purse over her shoulder and left she felt almost at peace for the first time in a week. (Had it only been a week since he’d been home from the hospital? It felt like a century, and maybe it was when you measured it in calculated breaths and medication timers and bandage changes.)

By the time Hotch was shuffling down the hallway with all the grace of a starved zombie, not the 28 Days Later kind but the long suffering Romero zombies, Sam had tidied up all of the files and moved himself on to perusing the bookshelves until he found something that was just dull enough to stare at until his friend woke. He didn’t want to get engaged in anything, he wanted something easily cast aside. Something that would hold his attention with only the lightest grip. Hotch’s book collection had plenty to offer in that regard.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Sam said with an easy smile, setting the book open-faced on his thigh. Hotch stared at him, unblinking, sleepy-eyed, pale and worn like an old bed sheet hung out to dry. He’d seen Hotch in plenty of bad situations but he’d never seen him so listless, so drained. So empty.

“Where’s Jessica?” he croaked in a voice that hadn’t been used for much more than moaning or complaining in the last few days. Jessica said he didn’t string many words together, one or two was about the limit of his conversational skills – everything else was more or less a series of whines, whimpers or grunts.

“She needed a shower. I stopped by at the perfect time I guess.”

Hotch grunted his disapproval at being blindsided by a change in caretaker and resumed his shuffle toward the kitchen. Sam watched with some intrigue, wondering how capable he was of whatever he had set out to do. He knew damn well Hotch wasn’t going to ask him to help, and truthfully he thought it was probably better if Hotch did things for himself. He suspected that Jessica was doing more than necessary, either out of fear or guilt or love it didn’t matter.

It was a glass of water he was after, and he managed after a full minute of trying to figure out the best way to raise his arm (one side was easier than the other, it turned out) and then it looked like he was going to be sick after the first drink but he continued anyway. Sam watched with interest while Hotch seemed to forget he was there momentarily, hunching over at the sink, resting one hand against the ledge and dropping his head. Sam thought about stepping in, about asking if he could do anything to help, but he knew Hotch well enough to see the folly in that idea. He let Hotch come to him, instead. Slowly he made his way through the kitchen, eyes dragging with suspicion over his newly cleaned table. He didn’t like it. Sam didn’t care.

“Did you do this?” he asked, reaching out with one unsteady hand to grab hold of the back of a chair. It was as far as he could go, and he fell heavily into the seat with a barely contained groan.

“Looks like it smarts,” Sam said, ignoring Hotch’s question. He knew the answer anyway. When Hotch didn’t acknowledge his comment, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and looked at him earnestly. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, and I’d rather not have to say it but I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I know.”

“So you pushin’ everyone away who wants to help?”

“They have better things to do. Agent Reid is also out, they’re short staffed.”

“We’re pickin’ up the slack. I’m working with Rossi and Morgan to divert your case load. We got it.”

Hotch nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. I’m hoping to return within the month.”

At that, Sam laughed. Hotch didn’t find it amusing. “What?”

“A month?! Hotch. Come on. I saw the pictures and the hospital chart – now, now, don’t get your feathers all ruffled, Rossi asked me to take the lead on your case. He didn’t want anyone from the team doing it, and he was adamant that an outsider shouldn’t do it. I guess you could call this a professional visit…”

“Yeah?”

“Well. In a matter of speaking.”

At that Hotch smiled. Sort of. It was just a little twitch at the corner of his mouth but it was something, probably more than he’d done in a while. It looked unnatural and stiff. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got something I need you to do with me. You up for a walk?”

“Do I look up for a walk?”

“You look like a ghost. You can’t haunt this place forever. You need some good old fashioned vitamin D...come on. Three blocks.”

Hotch knew where they were going, and he wanted to protest. Not for any real reason in particular, he’d been thinking of going himself. He loved it for the same reason Cooper did – it was peaceful there. Quiet. He could sit and hear himself think without the echoes and ghosts in his apartment, or he could sit and do nothing but stare up into the light refracted through brilliantly colored stained glass windows and marvel at the way that made him feel.

Small, it made him feel small. That’s what he’d tell Sam, if asked. And no, that wasn’t bad. In fact, as the world swirled around him, as his team texted him and people whose names he barely knew delivered flowers and baskets of well-wishes and foods he wouldn’t or couldn’t eat (but his neighbors would, and Jessica would) all he wanted was to feel small and insignificant again. Foyet had robbed him of many things, and right now if he could just feel small he might be able to see his way into the next day and the day after.

“You know where I’m taking you,” Cooper said, affecting a slow pace. Much slower than his usual clip, and still it wasn’t really slow enough for Hotch’s sluggish body. His bones were heavy, poured with concrete. He wasn’t really walking so much as dragging himself down the sidewalk. It was a strange lumbering walk, no real grace to it, stiff hipped and hunched at the shoulders. “You know exactly where we’re going.”

“I do,” Hotch replied, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket to hide their tremble. They shook a lot lately, maybe medication side effects, maybe nerve damage, maybe just that he was scared and hungry and sick all the time. The reason mattered very little to him anymore. It just was.

“Have you been already?”

“No.”

Cooper hummed and slowed his pace one click more, a welcome reprieve. Hotch slowed to match and took a deep breath.

Three blocks, only three blocks, but Cooper stopped and took a seat on a bench beside the bus stop a little over a block into the walk and Hotch followed. They didn’t speak while they sat, just stared across the street and watched the little coffee shop ebb and flow with the day’s patrons. Children being dragged in by their parents while they prattled about something that was very important to them and of little import to the parents on a mission for caffeine. A couple holding hands. A group of school aged girls. Some of Hotch’s neighbors, elderly couples that had formed a sort of walking group in the last few months. He’d joined them once or twice after being badgered relentlessly at the mailboxes for being a shut in. The problem, he told them, was that he spent so little time in his home that he desired the luxury of being a shut in. Still, he did need coffee so he reluctantly agreed.

After a few minutes, Cooper looked at Hotch expectantly and stood.

They made it to the church without saying another word, and Hotch stopped at the base of the steps and turned his whole face toward the sky. He stared at the steeple as it rose into the clouds, touched the heavens. He sucked in one quick breath and grabbed the railing before hoisting himself up one step at a time like he was climbing Mount Everest.

The last time he’d come, it was Easter. He had Jack’s little hand in his, it was his holiday weekend and they didn’t have a case. It wasn’t his first choice of holidays to have his son, but Haley wanted Thanksgiving and Christmas and since those are family holidays and Hotch didn’t care for spending much time in the company of his own, he’d taken Halloween and Easter. Well, that had been almost half a year before and he’d walked by these steps plenty of times and thought about coming in but he never did. There was plenty of guilt associated with that, just add it to the pile of guilt he lived with over everything else in his life.

It was creeping up on October now, and he knew in his heart that he wouldn’t get to have Halloween with his son. He might never get another holiday again – did he appreciate Easter for what it was? Maybe the last? He didn’t think so.

“Need some help?” Cooper asked when Hotch was halfway up. He shook his head and set his features with determination.

“I’ve got it.”

“Good.”

Hotch would have been content to sit in the back pew and stare silently forward, he had the best view of everything from there but Sam moved toward the front and he followed. This was Cooper’s adventure, after all. He’d done nothing but wake up and go to sleep, exist in a medicated half-life for a week now and if this was the way to regain his life...well he was willing to try it.

“It’s peaceful,” Sam said sitting down. Hotch took the seat beside him, close but not too close. Sam scooted closer to him, until their shoulders touched and he leaned himself back casually. Like this was his sofa at home and they were all set to watch the football game. “You made it.”

“Did you doubt me?”

Sam smiled. “I did, actually. You look like a man who hasn’t walked more than twenty steps in a week.”

“I am. I guess it’s like riding a bike.” He found that the smile he offered Sam wasn’t forced this time, and that lightened the tight feeling in his chest some. It was amazing the power some people held. That just Sam’s presence and faith in him, in his ability to still be the same man he was a week ago, would almost make him believe it too. Sam had always had that effect on him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His answer was always yes, but he hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Sure.”

“Did they ask you if you wanted to head up a Red Cell? Before they gave it to me? You were the natural choice.”

That wasn’t the question Hotch had imagined he would ask, but now it made sense. He was thinking about Foyet, about how all of this transpired and wondering if Hotch had any regrets about being so visible. About heading up the A team when he could have gone under the radar.

“They did.”

“And you said no?”

“I did.”

Sam leaned forward, fingering the prayer beads now dangling from his hands. Hotch watched in a sort of trance, the way his thumbs moved over the beads was rhythmic and enthralling. Hypnotic.

“Why? You like the red tape or what?”

He was in a church, and as such, he felt compelled not to let a lie dance on his tongue. Not to entertain those types of thoughts. Sam deserved his honesty. “I need rules. I need the red tape, even if I mean to fight against it sometimes. I need checks and balances. Sometimes I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t have them.”

Sam could respect that answer, but then, he found it wasn’t hard to respect most of the things Hotch said or did. He needed rules because he feared his own darkness, and knowing what he did about Hotch’s past it made sense to him. Still, knowing Hotch as well as he did, he expected that he’d do just fine without the red tape...he didn’t trust himself, but he should.

“Do you regret it?”

“You mean do I regret it now that I’ve been victimized by the very thing I just said I needed?” That had been on Hotch’s mind. The rules. Arrest Foyet for what he did, make it right. Do what Shaugnessey didn’t, you hunt him and you catch him. But then...how long did that last? And was playing by those rules just playing into Foyet’s hand? This cycle was endless and it was killing him slowly, seeping from him what little sleep his exhausted body would allow him. And now he waited to see if Foyet killed again, and worse, who it was if he did. He was watching, Hotch knew that much. So was the FBI, he knew that too. There was a car parked on his block 24/7 with some poor low level Agent sent on an endless mission to stare at his apartment building as if Foyet would come back there. And were he and Cooper followed down here to the church? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe Cooper cleared this whole adventure before even showing up.

“Not exactly, but sure. That’s where your mind went, I’d love to follow that rabbit down the hole. Assume I mean it that way. Do you regret it?”

“I hadn’t really considered it. Truth be told, I haven’t thought about much except that night.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sam laughed. He did so with his whole body. “Fair enough. Morgan said you weren’t talking to anyone about it. But you know, you will have to talk to me about some of it...at some point. I am the official Case Agent.”

“How much have you spoken with Morgan?”

“Everything I just said and that’s what you take from it? Are you jealous?”

Hotch frowned, not sure how to answer that. Especially in a church with a man holding prayer beads. He trusted Sam Cooper implicitly, but his stomach lurched painfully.

“I’m teasing,” Sam said, as if Hotch didn’t catch that part. “He comes by my office every day. He’s struggling, Hotch.”

“Comes by your office for what?”

Sam definitely detected a hint of something in Hotch’s voice that sounded like jealousy. Not the kind that holds hands with suspicion or anger, just the kind that makes bedroom eyes at hope and despair.

“He’s coming to work out. To blow off steam. I’ve been training him in Kali, if you must know. He needs an outlet.”

Hotch smiled at that. “Better him than me.”

“You’re next.”

“I’m not cleared for strenuous activity or lifting more than 5lbs for at least the next three weeks...sorry.”

“I’ll mark it on my calendar. You need to double down on your hand to hand training.”

That didn’t sit well with Hotch and Sam could tell he’d crossed a line, if only unintentionally. He hadn’t lost the battle with Foyet because he couldn’t fight hand to hand, Foyet had the element of surprise and a gunshot that deafened and disoriented him. He had it all planned out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you could have done anything to prevent what happened. The man was in your home waiting for you, there was nothing more you could have done than what you did. You stayed alive.”

A woman’s voice echoed from somewhere above them, and then a man’s voice followed. Nothing more than sound waves bouncing off of statues and stained glass, not real words, but Hotch’s attention was drawn to the origin of the sound and he felt the hot sting of tears welling up in his eyes. Sam placed one hand on Hotch’s shoulder and the prayer beads fell against his chest, making a small wooden rattling sound that he felt deep in his bones.

“You stayed alive, Aaron. Maybe that’s why I brought you here. I nearly lost a friend, and I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t.”

“Why?” Hotch rasped around the thick feeling of emotion choking him. Why did Foyet want to keep him alive? Why had Foyet chosen him? There were no answers he could find in any of those files. Nothing he could use to make sense of what happened – what Foyet did to him, the parts that were in the file and the parts that wouldn’t be. The parts he remembered and the parts he didn’t.

“That information is above my pay grade, I’m afraid.”

“Has Strauss said anything to you?”

“You know she doesn’t want anything to do with me, not since the Director said my team reports directly to him. She felt slighted and I don’t blame her but I sure am glad. She asked me to help your team out. That’s about where it ended.”

“I think she’s hoping I won’t return. That I won’t pass a physical.”

Sam hummed and stood, beckoning for Hotch to follow him back out into the sunlight. “You’ll pass. I’ll make sure of it. I just need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Call Morgan.”

Hotch looked at the stairs and grunted, reaching out for the railing. It was hot, the sun had baked it in the time they were inside and it burned against his palm as his fingers curled around it.

“For what?”

“Check up on him. Ask him how things are going. Ask him to meet you for dinner at that restaurant you both like, the little pho place across town.”

“I’m not cleared to drive.” It was a pitiful excuse, weak and lacking all feeling. He would drive if he had to.

Sam took Hotch’s arm and helped him down the long bank of stairs, much harder to maneuver down when he was tired than it had been to get up. His legs felt like jelly and more than once he nearly tripped.

“Then invite him to your place for dinner. Surely you can order a pizza. Or are you just opposed to seeing him?”

“I’m not...opposed...I’m just…”

Sam stopped and turned Hotch toward him. Anyone looking from the street might get the wrong idea. It would be easily read as a moment from a Hallmark romance.

“You need him, and he needs you. If you think that his opinion of you has somehow changed because of what happened, I’d say you’re not giving him enough credit.”

Hotch didn’t have a response to that, but the look on Sam’s face and the way he continued to lead him down the stairs and back to the apartment told Hotch it wasn’t necessary. It was food for thought, not a set up for an argument. His beads were in his pocket now, the outline could be seen against the denim, and Hotch noticed that Sam checked his watch. It was the third or fourth time he’d done that since they sat in the pews. He’d noted it as odd, but his mind was too hazy to focus for any length of time on small details like that. Now he was suspicious.

“Are you late for something?” Hotch asked, staring ahead at his building as it loomed. Grew closer, larger, the thought of his couch and his bed growing in strength. His legs burned like he’d run a marathon. It was amazing how quickly physical status changed, how fast he could go from peak performance to broken.

“Right on schedule,” he said, slowing his pace a little and smiling. Hotch didn’t trust it. Something was happening. Something outside of his control, just like everything else lately.

Sam held the door of the building open to him, and Hotch entered with some apprehension. Something was waiting for him and he didn’t know what but he didn’t enjoy surprises. And Sam knew that. It didn’t seem to matter.

The door wasn’t locked. Hotch frowned. He knew he’d locked it on the way out.

“Trust me,” Sam said, nudging the door open. Hotch just stared at him, wondering what was going on and not liking anything his mind came up with. “I asked Jessica to come back to let a friend in. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry. His apartment was broken into just a short time ago, a blink of an eye, and Sam says don’t worry. Hotch found he had a few issues with that statement, but Sam smiled at him and he had no choice but to try.

It was Derek, Hotch knew it right away. Before he saw him. The minute he stepped into the doorway he could smell Derek’s cologne.

Derek was in his apartment, on his hands and knees, smoothing out the last of a piece of carpet with a seam roller. The stained piece was lying nearby along with the discarded pad, the last real physical reminder of what happened that could be removed and replaced. The rest Hotch would carry with him forever as a part of him, there was no seam roller that could smooth the edges of Foyet’s masterpiece. Hotch stopped short and found it hard to breathe at the sight. Sam just nudged him inside so he could shut the door before helping him to the couch. It was clear that the day’s outing had exhausted him, a sad thing to witness in a man who was previously fit enough to give just about anyone a run for their money. One night, one man’s evil and it was all undone. For how long, Sam didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. One minute Hotch seemed motivated to bounce back and the next he seemed too far gone. Still, he had faith.

And that faith started here, with Derek. That’s all Sam knew for certain. These two, they’d always been tied together. Hotch was Hotch and Derek was Derek, but when they were together they were unstoppable. Derek would make Hotch want to come back, that was the simple truth.

“I ordered you a pizza, it’ll be here in twenty minutes. Let me take that to the dumpster on my way out.” Sam indicated the stained carpet remnants eagerly. Derek balked but eventually decided to hand it to him, brushing his hands on the thighs of his paint stained jeans when it was out of his hands. Like he was wiping Hotch’s blood from his palms. “Hope you like Vito’s.”

“Rossi would kill you for ordering from them.”

Sam laughed and nodded. “I suppose that’s true. He can come by my office if he has a problem with my pizza choices. He knows where to find me.” Slowly, Sam turned to look at Hotch who was solemn on the couch. Trying to reawaken himself or settle himself, it was hard to tell. “You too. Three weeks, it’s on my calendar.”

“How’s it look?” Derek asked, the first thing he’d said to Hotch since they showed. He was looking pointedly at Hotch, and in that moment Sam decided to slip out silently. Hotch noticed but turned to look at the carpet, knowing Sam would rather not have any fuss about him leaving. His work was done, but they both knew he’d be back. Probably a lot. He was the Case Agent, after all. Hotch’s return to duty was securely in his hands.

“It looks…” he said quietly, searching for the word. He didn’t have one. Maybe one didn’t exist. Was there a word in the English language (or any really) that said what he felt looking at that spot and knowing what had happened there but not having to see it anymore? “Thank you.”

Derek grinned and nodded, beginning to pick up the tools he’d set all around his workspace. They hit the old metal toolbox, the top engraved with the initials HM, with a crash. Metal on metal as he tossed them into place – he’d organize it all later. Right now, he had to clean up. They had pizza coming, and he was about three days overdue for sleep, but he was here in Hotch’s apartment and that was exactly where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be.

“I’ll take it.” He kicked the toolbox out of the way and admired his work for a moment before letting out a contented little sigh. “I’m gonna go hop in the shower. I’ll be out before the pizza gets here.”

“Derek?” Hotch whispered, clamping his hands over his knees. He made eye contact with Derek and held it earnestly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. There was pizza involved and I didn’t have to cook or buy. Easy decision.” He paused after grabbing his go bag, filled with something clean to wear and toiletries, and smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Here it is, the first of my tarlos @flufftober fics! I'm going for the full 31 days (so a fic a day the entire month of October) Let's see how many I'll actually post on time

Also Gabriel is alive because I said so.

---

Day 1 - "I've got you" (AO3)

“APD officer requiring medical assistance” Those few little words coming over the radio had the ability to turn the blood in TK’s veins into ice. “Ambulance 126 are you free? You’re the closest unit.”

“Medical unit 126 free and responding.” Nancy replied to the operator as the three of them got into the ambulance and buckled up. She started the engine and pulled out of the firehouse just as the officer’s location came through to their computer.

“It doesn’t have to be Carlos.” Tommy said over their headsets, knowing where TK’s mind was at.

“I know. I know.” TK said, briefly checking his phone but seeing no text or any sign of life from his husband.

“And you know what cops are like, they call us out when they stub their toe.” Nancy offered.

“That’s protocol.” TK said absent mindedly. It was almost four months since Gabriel had gotten shot, and even though he was recovering well and back at work on desk duty, Carlos hadn’t given up on trying to find the shooter.

“Dispatch do you have a unit number of the officer needing assistance?” Nancy asked over the radio in an attempt to calm TK’s nerves.

“363H20. There is another officer on scene but the call came from 363H20.”

“That’s Carlos’ badge number.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nance, I could recite that number in my sleep. I’m sure.” TK deadpanned while putting on gloves. “I just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid. He promised me he would lay off his one man investigation into Gabriel’s shooting.”

“How is Gabriel?” Tommy asked, trying to get TK to focus on something other than his injured husband. “I’ve been meaning to check in.”

“You know how he didn’t want to wear the sling the doctors had given him at our wedding? Because he didn’t want a reminder of the shooting in our wedding pictures? And only did it when Andrea made him? Well that’s about as much of his doctor’s advice he’s taken. He’s alright but stubborn as ever.” TK sighed. “Carlos really is his father’s son.”

They pulled up to the location a few minutes later and saw Carlos sitting on the curb next to his cruiser with a tea towel pressed to the side of his head, and Lexi Mitchell standing beside him.

TK jumped out of the ambulance, torn between wanting to strangle his husband for getting himself in trouble again, and wrapping him up in a hug and not letting him out of his sight for the next few months.

He grabbed his gear and walked over to where Carlos was sitting.

Carlos who was staring at his shoes instead of looking up.

“Hey Lexi.” TK greeted her before kneeling down and putting a hand under Carlos’ chin so he’d look him in the eye. “I thought I was the danger magnet in this marriage?”

“Don’t start.” Carlos rolled his eyes and groaned. “Things just got a little out of hand.”

“Yeah I can see that.” TK said and tightened his grip on Carlos’ face when he tried to look away. “What the hell happened, Carlos?”

“No pet names? Ouch. You’re really in the dog house now, dude.” Nancy commented.

TK briefly glared at her before turning his attention back to his husband. He turned his head to the side.

“Move the towel so I can take a look.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a scratch.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Move the towel.” He ordered, sounding way more angry and annoyed than he actually felt, but he figured maybe making Carlos think he’d really pissed him off would make him stop his investigation and let the team assigned to it do their jobs.

“Your bedside manner needs work, paramedic Strand.”

“It’s Reyes-Strand actually. You see I got married four months ago to this amazing man, he’s my soulmate, he completes me, but he’s being a world class idiot lately.”

“Why don’t we leave you two to it.” Tommy suggested. “Officer, are you hurt?” she asked Lexi.

“No ma’am. But he is.” She pointed her thumb at the backseat of the cruiser. “I put him in there for safekeeping. He got a little too close to the ground. With my help.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Not anymore. And he’d be really stupid to add assaulting a paramedic to the list of offences we can book him for.”

“Right, well, let’s go take a look. Way over there.” Nancy said and turned to TK. “Try not to kill him. Too many witnesses here.”

“I’ll do my best.” TK replied while cleaning the cuts and scrapes on Carlos’ face. “But I’m not making any promises.” He grabbed an antiseptic wipe from his kit to clean the wound he’d had the towel pressed against. “This is going to sting a little.” He murmured.

Carlos winced when the wipe touched his wound and tried to move his head away as a reflex but TK kept him in place.

“Don’t do that you big baby. I’ve got you. I’ll find something that doesn’t sting so much. And then we’re going to take you to hospital because you need stitches.”

“I don’t need stitches. I’ve got work to do. Can’t you just put a bandage on it?”

“Do you want an infection? Do you want to be bleeding through that bandage all day?”

“No, but…”

“Carlos.” TK said sternly but then softened a little when he saw the concerned look on his husband’s face. “Baby do you trust me?”

“What? Of course I do.”

“Do you trust me to know what I’m talking about? That I know how to do my job?”

“Of course.”

“Then trust me when I say you need stitches. And before you say anything, yes I can do it, but you want a plastic surgeon for this because the wound is on your face. I can patch you up but you’ll end up with a scar.”

Carlos mumbled something that sounded like “I don’t care.” And TK barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at him.

He grabbed some gauze and tape from his kit and covered up the wound on Carlos’ face.

“That should do for now.” He moved to sit next to Carlos and grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“The guy came out of nowhere.” Carlos started after a minute. “He took a swing at me and I hit the wall and then the ground. I think his ring cut my face.”

“Hmm… it’s not like you to let the bad guys get a jump on you…”

“Yeah. I guess I’m having an off day.”

“Just one day? Baby you’ve been distracted for weeks, you’re running yourself into the ground with your investigation. You’re awake half the night obsessing over it.” TK said and held up a hand when Carlos tried to argue with him. “We share a bed, remember? I know you’re not sleeping. I can feel you tossing and turning.”

Carlos sighed.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere.  I had a solid lead that brought me here.”

“Then why didn’t you tell detective Washington and her team?”

“I did! But they didn’t do anything!” Carlos argued. “I told them they had to move now but they just thanked me for my help and sent me on my way.”

“Probably because they had to check out the info. You taught me that police work involves a lot of checking and double checking and gathering as much information you possibly can before making a move.”

“I know… but I feel like I’m getting close to figuring it out.”

“So you grabbed Lexi and went to investigate on your own?”

“No… she just… kind of insisted to come along and didn’t take no for an answer.”

“Thank god for Lexi Mitchell.” TK muttered.

“I know it was stupid to go alone, ok? I know. But I… I can’t just... drop it. It’s my dad who got shot and nearly died.”

“I know babe, but if you keep going like this, he won’t be the only one coming close to dying.”

“Why? Because you’ll kill me if I don’t drop it?”

“No, you’ll be beating me to it.” TK deadpanned. “I don’t want to become a widower before we even get to our one year wedding anniversary. I love you and I hate seeing you like this. You need to start taking better care of yourself, baby. Promise me you will. ”

“I promise.” Carlos mumbled after a minute. “But I can’t just walk away from it and pretend it never happened.”

“I’m not asking you to. But I need you to sleep for more than 10 minutes a week and not spend every minute of every day obsessing over your dad’s case. You know they’ve got the best people working on it, so you can take a step back. Relax. Do something fun. Forget about it all for a couple of hours. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll try…” Carlos promised.

“Why don’t we order pizza tonight and watch that show Paul was talking about last week?” TK suggested. “And we can just relax and turn off our phones for a couple of hours… and who knows what else we could do.” He winked, making Carlos laugh.

“I don’t think that’s really considered relaxing, babe.”

“Maybe not, but it’ll be fun.”

[weevilsart]

MASSIVE CW: Vent, suicide mentioned, Drug and alcohol addiction, Caffiene addiction, Accidental Overdose, child abuse mentioned, mental health neglect, medical malpractice, mental hospitalization, police brutality, prison mentioned, AND THIS IS A VERY POLITICAL POST (FAR LEFTISM (I am a anarchocommunist)) PLEASE ASK ME TO ADD MORE CW IF NEEDED,

It really bothers me how I will never relate to or feel nostalgic to late 2000s to early 2010s post about elementary school.. I see picture of the inside of buses, school activities, and all of that, I can’t relate to any of it.. I didn’t go to elementary school and I only did 2 months of 7th grade and 1 week as a freshman and 1 fucking day as a sophomore, the rest of my schooling was at alternative schools that sucked and homeschooling which I can’t remember most of it cause at the time I was still actively being abused, I see my three youngest siblings and how they are still in school, how they got to learn and have friends, and I have none of that.. my two older siblings also have been to and completed high school, I have nothing.. I was too autistic and weird and mentally Ill to have done anything, I had been hospitalized twice and fucking spent my whole summer of 2018 (my last year in my home state) in a fucking residential program that said they were duel diagnosis BUT THEY ONLY FOCUSED ON THE KIDS THERE THAT HAD DRUG AND ALCHOL ADDICTIONS AND THEY COMPLETELY IGNORED MY CAFFEINE ADDICTION AND DOWNPLAYED IT SO MUCH THAT I GAVE UP ON QUITING they had FORCED me go to NA, MA, and AA meetings WHEN I DIDNT HAVE TO GO and they ignored my mental health, I LITERALLY HAVE BEEN STRUGGLING WITH SCHIZOAFFECTIVE DISORDER SINCE I WAS FUCKING 4 YEARS OLD AND IT TOOK 17 FUCKING YEARS TO GET A DIAGNOSIS CAUSE NO ONE WANTED TO DIAGNOSE A CHILD AND CAUSE OF THAT I WASNT ON ANTIPSYCHOTICS INTIL I WAS FUCKING 18!!!!! I WAS IN CONSTANT PSYCHOSIS AND I WAS PARANOID ALL THE FUCKING TIME AND I COULDNT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!! AND MY AUTISM AND ADHD WERE NEGLECTED CAUSE MY PARENT WERE TOO FOCUSED ON MY MENTAL ILLNESS AND MY TWO BROTHERS WHO WERE DIAGNOSED WITH AUTISM EARLY ON!!! I WAS DIAGNOSED AT 12 AND THEY DIDNT TELL ME INTIL I WAS 15!!!! I WAS CONSTANTLY DRINKING ENERGY DRINKS SO MANY IN A FUCKING DAY THAT I FUCKING OVERDOSED AND WAS UP FOR 3 WHOLE FUCKING DAYS AND MY MOM STILL DIDNT TAKE ME TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL AND I WAS DOING ALL THAT TO SELF MEDICATE MY ADHD AND I DIDNT GET PUT ONTO STIMULENTS INTIL I WAS 18 AND THEN MY PSYCH TOOK ME OFF CAUSE I DIDNT DO WHAT SHE TOLD ME TO AND I SPENT MONTHS TRYING TO GET A NEW PSYCHIATRIST AND WHEN I DID SHE PUT ME BACK ON THEM WITH NO STIPULATIONS CAUSE ITS FUCKED UP TO DO THAT!!!!AND I MISSED THE LAST 4 APPOINTMENTS WITH HER CAUSE THEY ARE ONLINE ONLY APPOINTMENTS AND I HAVE MEMORY FUCKNG ISSUES CAUSE OF LONG FUCKING COVID SO NOW IVE RUN OUT OF MY FUCKING RITALIN AND I HAVE TO SELF MEDICATE WITH ENERGY DRINKS TO FUNCTION PROPERLY BUT I HAVE A FUCKING HEART CONDITION AND SO NOW MY HEART RATE IS HIGHER THAN AVERAGE (USUALLY ITS 100 AND NOW ITS BEEN AROUND 150) CAUSE I DONT HAVE PROPER STIMULENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUCK THE MENTAL AND MEDICAL HEALTH CARE SYSTEM IN THE FUCKING UNITED STATES OF FASCISM CAUSE NOW I HAVE FUCKED UP TEETH AND CAUSE I CANT GET THEM FUCKING FIXEX CAUSD I DONT HAVE FUCKING DENTAL INSURANCE CAUSE MY STATE INSURANCE DOSENT COVER DENTAL OR OPTICAL AND GUESS WHAT? BLINDNESS RUNS IN MY FAMILY AND MY VISION HAS BEEN SLOWLY DETERIORATING AND I JUST HAD TO PAY 80$ FUCKING DOLLARS TO SEE AN OPTRISTION AND I ONLY RECEIVED 628$ A MONTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUCK THE SYSTEM FUCK CAPITALISM FUCK CHRISTOFASCISM FUCK THE GOVERNMENT FUCK COPS FUCK THE PRISON INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX FUCK THE MILITARY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX FUCK IT ALL

I AM FULL OF SO MUCH FUCKING RAGE I SWEAR I COULD TAKE ON THE WHOLE POLICE FORCE HERE BUT I KNOW I CANT AND THAT IT JUST BE POLICE ASSISTED SUICIDE!!!!!!!

[piracytheorist]

Angsty ideas by piracytheorist what's new

Hey so if you don't know me you will now and something about me is that I love whump, aka seeing my favourite fictional characters suffer. Like, suffer a lot, physically, emotionally, mentally, anything goes.

And with Twilight being a spy my mind just automatically goes "He's going to get captured one day and he will be tortured and it will be glorious :)" but then. Questions emerge. In my mind it would happen post-identity reveal and after the Forgers realize they want to stay together, so what would stop Yor from searching out for her missing husband and wreaking absolute havoc upon seeing that they're torturing him?

It was a question that's been bouncing around my head since I came up with that scenario. One idea I had was that this happens while Ostania's government is slowly falling apart, and more and more actions towards peace are taken. Orders for disarming, peace treaties, whatever goes idk how that shit works. Meanwhile, the SSS are sending pictures of tortured Twilight (and maybe a tooth or two) to the Western embassy in Ostania to provoke them. WISE decides to not do anything about Twilight, because things are just going so well and maybe they'll get an actual chance at peace and exposing the SSS's violence against one of their agents will make all of that effort crumble down. Sylvia reluctantly agrees to not do anything, because as much as it pains her to see Twilight like that, she knows he'd rather be tortured and killed than risk the peace and cause further conflict.

So I was asking myself, how would Yor stand for this? How long until Sylvia's words that this is what Twilight would want became crumbs to her worry about her husband's safety and life? For how long could Sylvia stop her, and how guilty would Yor feel for standing by while she knew he was being tortured?

And then I thought, well, easy solution, Yor gets discovered and has to take Anya and Bond and run away and hide, so she cannot go back for Loid. Now she has to stay away, but wouldn't that be too convenient, for her to be discovered just when her taking action would cause the promise for peace to shatter?

Well, just yesterday I thought that it wouldn't be "plot convenient"... if it was Sylvia who reported her. Twilight knew she's the Thorn Princess, but tried hiding it from Sylvia. Sylvia doesn't know all the details, but she knows Yor was hiding something, something which then Twilight hid from her. So when she suspects Yor is about to risk everything... Sylvia calls the SSS on her. Yor is forced to run away and leave Loid behind.

But after a while, everything between the two countries is set in peace. Maybe they're united, idk, something. So Yor comes to Sylvia's place and is like "You either help me get him out or you die right now." Sylvia just takes out the blueprints of the place the now defunct but still working in the shadows SSS is keeping Loid - she was just about to go rescue him herself. They rescue him but during the escape he puts himself in front of Yor and takes a bullet for her. They know WISE cannot provide sufficient medical care so they have to take him to the hospital. Despite all the political resolutions he's still considered a criminal, and Yor is still wanted, so there's heavy security outside the room he's kept in and Yor has no quiet and non-violent way of getting in. She manages to sneak in once while he's still fighting for his life, but then things get too intense and she has to stay away.

Twilight wakes up - he was informed that Yor was exposed while he was in captivity - and sees Sylvia, who tells him how they have peace now etc etc and he realizes it was her who reported Yor.

He understands why Sylvia did it, truly, he does. He wouldn't have had it any other way. But he also can't help hating her. Sylvia doesn't ask for forgiveness, doesn't pride herself in her choice; she knows that for the rest of her life she'll carry the burden of having destroyed the life the Forgers had built, of the thought that she would do it again for the sake of peace, and of the thought that despite hating her, the man whose life she ruined cannot blame her.

Of course, I'm not a fan of super sad endings so the Forgers reunite not too long after, and Sylvia would be one of those who help them get back together, but until that happens I want to see the angst and pain to make the happy ending more satisfying.

Anyway this is rambling and I avoid manga spoilers like the plague so please don't spoil me if anything like that happens or even is so much as mentioned thank

[sparklingpax]

“Are you always this shy?” With Optimus and Ratchet? (Forgive me if I'm doing this wrong, I've only been following you for a moment)

From this (requests are still open btw! I need these moments to take my mind off irl stuff ngl qwq)

HELLO HI THIS IS VERY OVERDUE!! (as are the other ones, which will be posted very soon, I promise o///o) Also no worries at all, you did this right!! :D

I am the one who should be asking for forgiveness rn, because no one should have to wait this long jsddjsdj TwT

I know it's been a long minute, but I hope you enjoy my blog and all my shenanigans (even at least somewhat ahah ^^'')

-Im deeply sorry for typos and other such grammatical errors 😭

-I went with a sort of "early war" kind of thing, like right after Ratchet becomes a part of Optimus' team. (Not sure this is probably not even how this would have played out or did, but I am taking ARTISTIC LISENCE and doing my own version of events....idk ;w;)

-Also, it is a bit short ;///; sorry....hope you like it tho!

-Set in aligned continuity/tfp

-i guess its a lil bit of optiratch ya know? just a lil (for my own enjoyment ^w^)

///

“Ratchet.”

“Don’t.”

“But the team wants to–”

“Well they’ll have to do whatever it is another time–I’m too busy!!” the shorter mech snapped, cutting him off. He quickly reached into his toolbox and fumbled to grab something. Optimus took a step closer, trying to peer over his shoulder, curious.

“What are you working on?”

“A–uhm–this set of some…very difficult formulas!” The medic stammered, not yet turned to face him. “I-I need time, some quiet…I…I’m simply far too busy to do anything right now!” 

He finally set his grip on an object, looking over his shoulder at Optimus as he brandished a wrench and waved it demonstratively. But as he held the wrench, Optimus noticed the tip of the object quivering in Ratchet’s grip. 

After another sharp huff, he turned his back to Optimus again, leaning over the table, which was covered in rust and dirt. He set the wrench down quietly and stood still. 

Optimus wondered if he was going to explain the wrench at all, or…

“...Alright, I’m…” Another sigh and pause. Optimus waited patiently. “I’m…not exactly busy with…formulas, I’m just…well, it’s just–I…I don’t…”

“You’re…nervous?”

Ratchet made a sound that seemed to agree. 

Optimus fought the urge to giggle at how this was kind of cute–he didn’t want the medic to feel any more embarrassed than he probably already did. Instead, he strode closer to him, resting a gentle servo on his shoulder. 

“I understand. You may take as long as you need before you go out and meet them,” he said quietly. 

Ratchet ducked his head. 

“But I feel bad about…” 

Optimus shook his head, looking down at him with gentle regard. 

“There is nothing to feel bad about, Ratchet. It would cause you discomfort if you went to meet everyone now, and I know neither you nor I would enjoy that. And, they are your new team as of now, so they will be around for quite a while.”

Ratchet finally looked back at Optimus, seeming less bothered than he had been–just a little more relaxed. Optimus was glad, smiling back at him. 

“Well then…” Ratchet murmured, moving to return to looking at the table. “I do have some work to do…”

He jumped right into it, and Optimus simply watched, leaning against the table. He eyed a light flicker above them briefly, then let his gaze wander to the faded papers tacked to the walls. It wasn’t really a medical room, but it was the best available to them in their situation. 

Squinting, he could see even more that these posters must not have been Ratchet’s–being advertisements for a shop of some kind, or pictures of a musical artist he was sure neither of them knew… 

“You know…” Ratchet said quietly, breaking the silence, “...I do want to meet the team. I’ll need to get to know them in the event of injuries and such, anyway…”

Optimus tilted his head, still looking at the contents of the room. 

“There are many of us in this unit. Is it that there are too many at once?”

“...that would be it.”

“I suppose I never saw you with big groups unless you knew everybot or were giving presentations back on Cybertron,” Optimus remarked. “Are you…always this shy?”

“Well it's not exactly shyness, but I believe you know what I mean as…” Ratchet chuckled little. He put down his tools again and looked up to find Optimus staring back at him. He remembered the eyes that looked back at him when they were in Ratchet’s old dorm at university, as he worked on a project for class, and Orion came just to watch…to keep him company. 

Those same eyes that still looked to him with interest and curiosity. 

Oh Orion…some things never change. 

“...you were too, once,” he said finally, looking back to his desk and attempting to focus and get back to work. But he stopped at a touch on his hand, staring back up at his friend. Optimus had a somewhat melancholy look pooled in the back of his gaze. 

“And I still am. But as a leader…I have to…work around it.” 

Ratchet leaned forward and into Optimus, who wrapped his arms around him in a gentle embrace. 

“I know, Optimus,” he whispered. 

He silently resolved to go see the others later that very night. If Optimus could do it, well…then he wanted to as well.

Thank you, Optimus.

///

[whiskey-bumblebee]

Disorder

Characters: Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi (platonic/professional), no romantic pairing in this one because it's more of a character study :) also hotch is bi <3

Word Count: 1175

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, use of outdated LGBTQ+ terminology/slurs (fag, dyke, transvestite, homosexual, fruit) - but within the context of teaching Rossi that these things aren't okay. Starts right under the cut. Also Rossi is kind of OOC but I personally think he's an asshole so.

It's a familiar scene, the team reviewing photographs and case files from the latest case they've been assigned. This time, they're preparing to fly to San Francisco.

Rossi huffed a laugh. "Of course it's San Francisco."

The team largely ignored him, not sure exactly what he's trying to get at, and thinking it's probably better not to ask him to elaborate. Rossi was a helpful part of the team, but sometimes...

"So it seems like the unsub is targeting members of the LGBTQ community," Spencer said slowly. "Does anyone have the file on how the victims knew each other?"

"They all volunteered at a community clinic," Emily responded, sliding the file over the table to Spencer, who scrambles to catch the papers before they slide off the table.

"What did they do there? Anything that might make people angry?" Morgan asked, walking around the table to peer over Spencer's shoulder.

"STI testing, peer counselling, outreach, increasing the accessibility of contraception and medication. Maybe controversial to an out-of-towner, but within San Francisco..." JJ trailed off, shaking her head.

"Maybe someone had a test come back positive? Started taking it out on the staff?" Spencer suggested.

"That makes the profile easy," Rossi said. "The unsub is a sexual deviant, so we look for signs of assault, run a DNA test, case closed."

The team fell silent, avoiding eye contact with each other.

"What makes you think that, Dave?" Hotch piped up.

"Well, all of the victims are homosexuals, so the unsub is likely a homosexual, or some sort of transvestite-"

"David," Aaron interrupted. "That isn't the preferred terminology-"

"Preferred terminology," Rossi threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "What does it matter? Dykes, fags, homosexuals. We know what we're looking for."

Rossi jabbed a finger at one of the victim's pictures.

"Could David and I have the room, please," Hotch said firmly. He crossed his arms. Everyone filtered out quickly, eager to be out of the tense room.

"They," Aaron slipped the photograph out from under Rossi's finger. "-are one of the victims. Not the unsub."

"You know what I'm getting at."

"No, I don't, David. Homosexuality hasn't been included in the DSM since the 1970s. You're being offensive."

"It's deviancy! You can't stand there and tell me that homosexuality is typical behavior." Rossi stood up and walked away from Hotch, turning his back to the taller man.

"It's perfectly acceptable 'behavior'. What if someone on the team was queer, Dave? How do you think that," Aaron gestured around the room, referring to Rossi's outburst. "Would make them feel? Safe?"

Rossi scoffed. "If one of them is a fucking fruit, they shouldn't be working in this unit in the first place."

"Dave," Aaron said, his tone dangerous. He was clearly considering his next move.

"Hotch," Rossi parroted. "What's your problem?"

"My problem," Hotch said, "Is that there's a 'fucking fruit' in the room with you right now. And he just so happens to run this unit."

Rossi shook his head and walked to the door, which someone had wisely closed behind themselves as they left.

"Sit down," Aaron said calmly, although there was a clear edge to his words.

Rossi turned around, walking to stand behind a chair and resting his hands on the back. He held eye contact with Aaron, clearly defying his request.

"Once we're finished, I'm going straight to Strauss' office, and I suspect she'll agree with me that a suspension is in order. Right now, you're going to listen to me."

Rossi's eyes finally dropped to the conference room table. Aaron took advantage of his moment of compliance.

"In the 21st century, we refer to members of the LGBTQ community with the terms they prefer. We do not say homosexual, fruit, or fag. Gay men are gay men, and lesbians are lesbians. Trans people are just trans. I'm sure you'll have time to catch up on the terminology during your suspension."

"So you're a fag, Aaron?"

Aaron took two steps across the room.

"I'm what you call a bisexual." He took Rossi by the upper arm, not caring if his vice grip left bruises, and dropped his voice to something just above a whisper. "And because we're at work, I'm going to walk out of here and call Strauss. But if you try this shit outside, I know a couple of 'fags' who would have broken your fucking nose."

Aaron let go, perhaps a little more aggressively than he needed to. He jerked his chin towards the door. "Get out."

Rossi left the building without even going to his office to fetch his coat.

Hotch walked out of the conference room, knowing all eyes would be on him.

"We can talk about this in a few minutes. I need to make a phone call."

Derek laughed and clapped his hands together. "Rossi's in trouble."

____

"Right," Aaron said. "I'm glad you agree. Okay. Thanks, Strauss."

He hung up the phone and walked out of his office.

"Okay, everyone," He said, walking into the bullpen. "Rossi's been suspended for four weeks, or until he can pass a quiz on the updated terminology. Is everyone okay?"

Garcia looked kind of startled, having been in her cave while the team were in the other room. Judging by her tearful expression, someone had caught her up on the afternoon's events.

"We're okay," Emily replied. "We debriefed while you were on the phone."

Hotch nodded. "If anyone feels like they need to talk, I'll leave my office door open, or you can send me an email if you want to keep it private."

"Are you okay, Hotch?" Spencer asked.

Aaron cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

Penelope frowned and he softened.

"Rossi said some inappropriate things. It's important to me that you all feel safe at work. Of course, you don't have to disclose anything..." He trailed off. "But I'm..."

He sighed, starting to rub his fingertips together.

"It feels important that you know that the person running this unit is... I'll have your backs," He said finally, swallowing noticeably.

They all nodded.

"We know, Hotch," Derek replied.

Penelope offered a warm smile.

____

The next morning, there's a noticeable difference in the office atmosphere with Rossi gone. But there's also something... else.

Hotch has adhered a small, rectangular sticker to the outside of his office window:

Everyone is welcome here.

And if Penelope has stuck a pride flag to the glass door which leads into the BAU's office space, nobody says anything about it.

And if Spencer starts wearing a he/him pin on the lapel of one of his cardigans, nobody says anything about it.

And if Derek starts adding "or lady?" when he asks "is there a special man in your life?" Nobody says anything about it.

And if JJ encourages the police stations they work with to refer to unsubs with gender neutral pronouns, nobody says anything about it.

And if Emily has lipstick on her cheek one morning. And if it looks a little bit like the shade JJ was wearing, nobody says anything about it.

[nimata-beroya]

My new TBB theories

I've been thinking since the premiere, and some of my predictions for this season have turned out to be false. When I made those guesses, I was counting on the footage we saw in the trailers was from the entire season. Now that I know that's probably not true (most likely it's only about the first half of the season) and with what has happened in the first episodes (plus seeing different theories by the fandom), I'm forming a new theory or 2 on my own.

It started having just Crosshair in mind, but now it could be Cody instead. I know some fans are worried that Rampart lied to Crosshair, that Cody didn't go AWOL; it's just that Rampart executed him. I don't believe that at all, even if the new Imperial governor of Desix reported him for not following orders. It'd be the worst decision to kill off a fan favorite like Cody off-screen. Doing that onscreen, that it is possible, but not off-screen. I mean, Wilco got killed onscreen, and Cody didn't? Seriously? That makes any sense? No. So, chill, people, chill.

That's not me saying you shouldn't worry about Cody. I don't think he's dead, but Rampart might've arrested him for not following orders. It'd make more sense than killing him. I mean, I considered the place they are and who Cody is. Wilco was just (Not just, but you know what I mean) a captain stationed in a backwater planet, killed with little to no witnesses. Cody is in Coruscant AND he's a kriffing Marshall Commander. I'm not saying Rampart couldn't have done it, but it would be more complicated. More datawork for him to do afterward sort of speak. Datawork that brings attention to him that he doesn't want at the moment, I might add.

Besides, Rampart might think that Cody is another source of info to find the batch. Think about it. Cody requested to work with Crosshair first thing after he was medically cleared. Rampart must know Cody worked with the batch several times in the past. So, if Crosshair is helping the batch (or that's what Rampart thinks) he might use Cody to set up a trap, for Crosshair? For the batch? This theory by @feltpool is dark and put Cody actually "willingly" following orders from Rampart. It's interesting, but I don't think Cody would rat Crosshair out in the end (maybe that's why he got arrested). Not to mention that after watching the last scene with Crosshair asking about Cody and Rampart pretending not to know Cody's name just to gauge Crosshair's reaction (because that's why he did it), I'm pretty sure that it's both a way to psychologically torture Crosshair and exert control over him, and see What Crosshair does.

Because Rampart is well aware that the batch is a thorn in his side, one that needs to take out soon before they pop up again, and Tarkin finds out Rampart karked things up. If Rampart truly believes that Crosshair has anything to do with deserting clones (because it's not only CF99 being alive and possibly Cody defecting, it's also Howzer and half of his unit. Remember them? There IS a pattern), I'm sure he wants to wipe them all out in just one strike.

So, Cody's hypothetical arrest could be what urges the batch to go to Coruscant. Before the season started, I thought they'd go on the season finale. Now, I believe it could be by the mid-season.

Picture this: Rex contacts the batch for a job (as seen on the trailer), because he has heard about clones going AWOL, and he wants to find them. So they need to access information, but they only can do that directly from the source, so they go to the ship/facility/whatever and among the info they gather is Cody's location. So, they'll try to break him and other clones out.

Which brings me to the second theory (it's not mine, but I like it a lot) that all those deserting clones, including the batch of course, will do an uprising. I'm thinking that we could see the inception of it on the season finale. I mean, episode 2×15 is called "The Gathering". It could mean all the free clones coming together to execute "Plan 99", which is the title of 2×16. At first, I thought Plan 99 was a rescue plan, as in (finally) rescuing Crosshair (which still could be). But it could also mean Revolution.

Most likely, I'll be wrong about this (like I've been before; my initial predictions for the season are the proof of it), but maybe I get right one or 2 things. Maybe I'm not so off after all.

[manekinoodle]

It’s been long enough. *cracks knuckles* Let’s do this.

A is for ALESSO: favourite track?

I have lots of trouble answering this. Mostly because heist tracks supplement their respective heists really well. I will give several that I always go back to as a compromise, with reasons attached.

Code Silver 2018, Stone Cold 2017, Deadeye - grouped together because I love the bass and that’s generally why I vibe with them.

Gun Metal Grey 2015, Razormind, Evil Eye, I Will Give You My All (both versions) - actually on my phone so I can listen to them whenever.

Today is Payday Too, Let’s Go Shopping, Break the Rules - honourable mentions.

B is for BALDWIN’S LAMENT: any regrets or things you wish were different about the game/story?

Character development. Please. I would have killed for things like support conversations and friendship bonuses. On that note, I’m glad that internal drama (minus the Houston/Hoxton thing, but I’ll get to that) didn’t comprise much of the story. The gang must be united after all.

Also, a more in-depth stealth system would have been great. I do enjoy the stealth as it is, but runs get killed so easily :( Why can’t I throw rocks?

C is for CONTRACTORS: favourite contractor and why?

In terms of both character and heist selection, Vlad all the way. He’s got a good spread of heists for whatever flavour of gameplay you’re looking for. Also, Vlad in the DLC heists being all buddy-buddy with Locke makes for fun interactions in the introductions. As a character, he’s crazy enough to make anything work for him. Great comic relief. And he’s a real mate to the gang, so that’s a bonus.

D is for DLC: favourite DLC you own?

Jacket. Enough said, let’s move on.

E is for ECMS: favourite stealth/stealth-only heist?

Yacht Heist, despite having played it to death, is pretty damn good. The setting is great, the heist track is great, the objectives are straightforward and you can do the heist pretty quickly if you try. There’s also plenty of spots to hide, which makes things a bit more relaxed (unless you’re going for Thalassophobia...)

F is for FUUUUUUU: most-hated heist?

I have a few I don’t like much, but Boiling Point might take the cake. No cover, you can’t see shit, endless assault with a server you’re carrying over a super long distance... yeah. No.

Both the Bomb heists were this for me before, but I’ve managed to get Bomb: Dockyard sorted thanks to Marcmb’s stealth guide. So I dislike them less now.

G is for GENSEC: favourite pager line?

(Pager guy: “I don’t care whose dick you’re sucking -”) “Everything's good, just banged my head on the toilet, no problem.” - Houston

“What? Who is this? If you call this number again I will get my husband to call the police!” - Microsoft Jacket

H is for HEIST: all-time favourite heist?

You wound me. There’s so many good heists.

Like I said before, Yacht Heist is one of my all-time favourites. Added to this list are Framing Frame, Buluc’s Mansion, Scarface Mansion, Golden Grin Casino, Big Bank... you’re getting the picture. I love the heists set in one big location.

I is for ILIJA: are you a favours lover or do you prefer the challenge of going in without favours?

It depends. Stealth I’ll always get as many favours as I can; spycams are golden. Loud it depends on general team skillsets and difficulty. I always buy a medic bag and ammo bag just in case things go south. But if it’s my usual team, we’re fine without favours.

J is for JOKERS: dumbest thing/moment about the series?

Bro where the fuck is Houston in the DLC heists?

K is for KILLKILLKILL: favourite/best way to kill cops?

Bonking with the golden spoon. I don’t do it often, so I savour the moment.

L is for LIVE-ACTION: favourite live-action/web series moment?

Houston punching Dallas in the face so they could scam the police. That was funny.

M is for MASKS: favourite mask/s?

Mega Tiara and Mega Biker. I’m starting to like the hats now, though.

N is for NO MERCY: hot take/unpopular opinion about the games?

My opinions about the game are basic bitch. About fandom however...

O is for OVERKILL: best/coolest thing you’ve ever done in-game?

I think my pacifist stealth runs have been pretty good. Otherwise, some of the trick throws I do that land bags directly in the car (Murky Station, Framing Frame).

In loud, I tased a Bulldozer to death once.

P is for PAYDAY 3: hopes for Payday 3?

A better stealth system. Please. Just anything.

Also, more character-centric stuff. I wouldn’t want a “player” character customisation or anything, but stuff where we can see characters interacting would be great.

More extensive mask customisation where we can spray paint on it ourselves. That, and having colour change options like with the outfits so we can still keeps the noses and mouths of animal masks but just change the fur colour for example.

Q is for QUIT: what makes you rage/quit?

Bad stealth runs. And bad loud runs. I like to win.

R is for RESERVOIR DOGS: cross-overs you’d like to see in Payday 3?

Bringing back some of the existing stuff would be great. John Wick especially. Keanu Reeves this time, please.

But you know what would be cool? A Sonic crossover, like God intended. Or Resident Evil. But I know these aren’t realistic hopes :(

S is for STOIC: favourite/most-used perk deck?

I use Anarchist most often, but Hacker has been great since the buff.

T is for TASER: most surprising moment/thing that happened in-game?

I cheesed Safehouse Nightmare with a turret once. I got to sit there and pick off Cloakers. It was great.

Also being able to confuse the game in Firestarter Day 1 by jumping over the fence. That was pretty great.

U is for UKRAINIAN: favourite Vlad moment?

I need to pick a favourite? I liked his intros with Locke in San Martin.

I now recall that one web series episode where he met with Chains with the heart sunglasses or something. That was also good.

V is for VILLAIN: favourite baddie and why?

The Dentist! He’s pretty well set up. I don’t really have that much to say about him. Sorry.

W is for WE CALL THIS A DIFFICULTY TWEAK: preferred/most-played difficulty?

On loud, we go mostly Overkill or Mayhem. We’re working our way up.

On stealth, DSOD or nothing. Cowards.

X is for XENODIAGNOSIS: would you want Bain’s disease to be curable and why/not?

Bain needs to die. I think as cool as it would be to just get Bain back, the gang would have to fall apart some point down the line anyway. I think that’s a worse ending than going their separate ways on good terms.

Y is for YULE: do you typically play seasonal updates and why/why not?

Seasonal updates are literally Christmas and that’s the one time I don’t have access to a computer. 0/10 fuck you.

Z is for ZEAL: what makes you excited about Payday and keeps you coming back to play again and again?

Achievement hunting :’) I love that shit. Especially finding ways to cheese them (see DSOD Safehouse Nightmare or Easy Firestarter Day 1).

I hope y’all enjoyed. I’ll gladly elaborate on my answers if asked but this is already a huge post anyway.

The ABCs of Payday - Q&A edition

You can either answer all of these yourself & tag people to also complete it, or you can RB and your followers can pick a letter and you answer. Or you can just do nothing that's cool too ig.

A is for ALESSO: favourite track?

B is for BALDWIN'S LAMENT: any regrets or things you wish were different about the game/story?

C is for CONTRACTORS: favourite contractor and why?

D is for DLC: favourite DLC you own?

E is for ECMS: favourite stealth/stealth-only heist?

F is for FUUUUUUU: most-hated heist?

G is for GENSEC: favourite pager line?

H is for HEIST: all-time favourite heist?

I is for ILIJA: are you a favours lover or do you prefer the challenge of going in without favours?

J is for JOKERS: dumbest thing/moment about the series?

K is for KILLKILLKILL: favourite/best way to kill cops?

L is for LIVE-ACTION: favourite live-action/web series moment?

M is for MASKS: favourite mask/s?

N is for NO MERCY: hot take/unpopular opinion about the games?

O is for OVERKILL: best/coolest thing you've ever done in-game?

P is for PAYDAY 3: hopes for Payday 3?

Q is for QUIT: what makes you rage/quit?

R is for RESERVOIR DOGS: cross-overs you'd like to see in Payday 3?

S is for STOIC: favourite/most-used perk deck?

T is for TASER: most surprising moment/thing that happened in-game?

U is for UKRAINIAN: favourite Vlad moment?

V is for VILLAIN: favourite baddie and why?

W is for WE CALL THIS A DIFFICULTY TWEAK: preferred/most-played difficulty?

X is for XENODIAGNOSIS: would you want Bain's disease to be curable and why/not?

Y is for YULE: do you typically play seasonal updates and why/why not?

Z is for ZEAL: what makes you excited about Payday and keeps you coming back to play again and again?

[reidsashleyy]

One and Only || Spencer Reid

Chapter 26: Glad you’re okay

[series masterlist]: [previous chapter]:

[next chapter]:

Series Description: Juliette Luciano was fifteen when her parents were arrested by the behavioral analysis unit after being double crossed by someone in the Mafia they were apart of. When Julie, her twin brother Matteo, and best friend/sister-in-law Valeria turn twenty they decide to run, leave the life of crime and change their way of life. After seven years of running they realize they were officially in more danger than anticipated when they received surveillance pictures of themselves. But they weren't the only ones who got some. After the BAU decided it would be safe for them to go into witness protection they decide to send in none other than Doctor Spencer Reid in with Julie for extra protection. These two form a bond that will quickly lead them to get into a relationship. Will the relationship be all love and happiness all will it all go dark like everything else in their lives.

Pairing: Spencer Reid X fem!OC (Julie)

W.C: 1.3k

C.W: Mentions of drugs, hospitals, pregnancy.

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I quickly grabbed Julie when her eyes fluttered shut. I kicked the flowers away while I laid Julie down on the couch. She didn't lose consciousness for long before her eyes opened a little. I picked up the small note that came with the flowers and opened it.

Happy birthday Juliette,

My brother couldn't enjoy his after your boyfriends team killed him so you aren't going to either. Enjoy the GHB you just inhaled.

I read it out loud while Penelope called for an ambulance. I looked back over at Julie who was in and out of consciousness, "Hey I know you're gonna want to go to sleep but you can't okay? Stay with me."

"After Angelo died she decided to get rid of her approved visitors list so Santiago, Angelo's brother, could've easily gotten up here." I said.

"I'll have Garcia look over the security footage, we're going to head back to the headquarters while you go with her to the hospital." Emily said as they all left.

The medics didn't take much longer to arrive, when they did they immediately rushed her down the ambulance, "How far along is she?" One of them asked.

"She's thirty two weeks with twins."

She nodded and put patches on her chest to track her heart rate. I grabbed her hand and held it in both of mine as the ambulance started to move to the hospital.

"She's obviously high out of her mind so do you know what she's on?"

I nodded, "It's Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, it was in a bouquet of flowers she got and she inhaled it by accident."

When we arrived to the hospital they took her to a patient room while I waited in the waiting room. My leg bounced as I waited until her doctor came to find me in the waiting room.

"Doctor Reid?" She  asked.

I nodded, "Is she going to be okay?"

"Yes, we mildly sedated her until the drug wears off. The drug could cause complications with the babies but we are carefully monitoring them and they are doing amazing right now, if anything changes we will give her an emergency c-section."

I nodded, "Okay, can I see her?"

"Of course, come on."

I followed her to Julie's room, she looked over at the door and waved at me with a tired smile, "I should've known something was in the random flowers left at the front door." She said.

"If it makes you feel any better I wouldn't have suspected there being something in the flowers either."

"I know. What was in them anyways?"

"A high dose of a date rape drug, did the doctor come in to talk to you yet?"

"Yeah which is why my bump is covered in patches and wires."

"I know you didn't want a c-section but if it comes to it they're going to have to do one."

"Yeah they told me and as much as I didn't want one if it's for the safety of our kids than I'm fine with it."

She pressed the button to move the bed so she could be sitting up a bit, "You should go home and get the hospital bags just in case they have to take these babies out."

"I'm not leaving, I'll just have someone bring them to us."

She shook her head, "No go get the bags and on your way back you should buy me some food because this hospital food is disgusting."

"Okay, do you need anything else?"

"Can you please bring me my shoes, the ones I wear whenever we go on walks?"

"The black ones?"

"No the white ones, those are more comfortable."

I smiled as walked to the door before I turned to look at her, "You know one time I had this conversation with Emily, JJ, Penelope and Derek about why women have tons of shoes that they don't really need."

She smiled at me, "They need to match everything in our closet that's why."

"That's exactly what they told me. Anyways, I'll be right back. I love you."

"I love you too."

—————

Spencer walked out the door and I let my head rest against the bed, "What a great way to spend my birthday." I whispered to myself.

I looked down at my bump that had patches placed everywhere which were connected to a bunch of wires and monitors.

My nurse came into the room and gave me a smile, "How are you feeling?" She asked as she checked the monitors.

"I've been better."

"We have a monitor tracking contractions and there have been a couple but they are Braxton Hicks so there is no need to panic."

"Be honest with me, am I going to need an emergency c-section today?"

"Unless something goes wrong or your babies go into distress because of the drug you were dosed with there will be no need to do a c-section. We are strictly keeping you here for observation and when we see everything is back to its normal levels you will be discharged."

"Thank you."

She nodded as she wrote some things down on my chart before leaving. I got comfortable and turned on the small TV and started flipping through the channels while I waited for Spencer to come back.

When he did he set a white plastic bag on the small tray connected to my bed before placing our hospital bag on the couch inside the room.

"I got you some chicken ramen from that sushi place we order from all the time. I also got you some of their bread that you love and a hibiscuses tea."

I looked at him and puckered my lips, he leaned down and placed a kiss to my lips, "I love you."

"I love you too, now eat."

I carefully took the two containers out of the bag and looked over at Spencer, "Want some?"

"No I'm okay."

I took sip of the tea as I watched Spencer fiddle with something in his hand, "I know I told you were acting weird earlier but I thought it was because of the party but now you're acting weirder."

He looked at me, "I just feel useless here, I should be with the team trying to find Santiago so we can arrest him."

"I know but I also know how protective you are especially because I'm pregnant so I think it's best for you to stay here and not be out there trying to rip his head off."

He nodded as he focused on the TV mounted in the corner of the room. I did the same as I continued eating what was in front of me.

When I finished I put the containers inside the bag and Spencer stood up to toss it away, "Do you need anything else?"

"Not right now, I'm just really hoping these babies stay in there for the next month like they're supposed to."

"I think they will and even if they don't I think we're prepared for the most part."

"Their nursery is still filled with boxes we haven't unpacked, the only thing we have ready is their cribs."

"Well they'll at least have somewhere to sleep."

I let my head rest against the pillow and reached my hand out for him. He sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand in his, "What's wrong?" He asked.

"I'm just now realizing I almost died."

"I know but you didn't and that's all that matters. Why don't you get some rest."

"Will you read to me?"

He smiled, "Of course."

He got up and went to our hospital bag where we had packed a couple books. He grabbed one and I scooted over on the bed so he could lay beside me. He placed a kiss on my temple as I laid my head on his shoulder and he started reading quietly as my eyes slowly shut.

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