#and then what. a week off work because i triggered a flare up

[an-ruraiocht]

struggling a lot with not having the mental or physical capacity to engage in any meaningful form of political activism and feeling profoundly guilty about that when there are just so MANY people suffering rn. and being well aware that i also don't have the mental or physical capacity to stay on top of my actual jobs most of the time (let alone housework and my health) so it's not like I'm uniquely failing at this and in fact it's pretty reasonable that i can't do more. but still somehow feeling like if i just tried hard enough i would be able to do more and that it's just a matter of priorities. and it is partly a matter of priorities but also as for the vast majority of people "doing your day job" does actually have to be at the top of your priorities because you can't help anyone if you can't pay your bills and don't have enough to eat

and maybe i feel it more acutely because the nature of my social circles mean i have a lot of friends and acquaintances who don't have day jobs and still live at home/are funded by parents so they CAN put all their energy into politics, which is not comparing like with like. and sure for every disabled person who can't go to protests there'll be another getting arrested in their wheelchair so maybe i'm just selfish and heartless not to try harder or do more. i should definitely write to my mp more probably but i can't even stay on top of urgent work-related emails that will completely fuck me over if i don't reply on time and it keeps screwing me over. i should try to use social media to share info more maybe but the only time i've ever had a meaningful "platform" on social media it sucked so bad i made a new blog and now i don't have an audience or any interest in growing one and trying to read enough to gauge what's trustworthy just overwhelms me and social media was always my space for Not having to be mentally switched on bc it's where I go when I don't have the spoons to function in the real world. half the time these days I fall asleep on the sofa while scrolling

and then every time i get like this i make more donations to charities but there are limits to how much i can give and it seems like a bottomless pit where no matter how much money you throw at the people who are on the ground helping, it doesn't make anything better

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Dark Tangerine x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Tangerine can’t stand his little girl’s tears, especially when you’re the reason behind them.

WARNING: Forced/Abusive Marriage; Implied Kidnapping context; NONCON. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Make sure to imagine that lovely British accent of his, hehe. Also I wanted to wait a bit before posting this, but I wanna share this so bad :) enjoy!

--

The loud noise from the television travels to the kitchen, muffling down the sounds of the knife violently cutting down a carrot. Tangerine has a tight grip on the knife, a pissed off scowl on his face as he spits an unhealthy amount of curses. 

He’s so caught up that he misses the small quiet steps that run towards the kitchen and it’s only when there is a hesitant tug on his sleeve that he looks down, finding a small female miniature of himself, standing in her tippy toes in front of him as she raises her arms, her brown curls bouncing. 

He smiles at her, immediately picking her up, pushing the knife far away. Delighted giggles fill the kitchen as he tickles her. 

“What you doin’ here, princess? Are you hungry, sweetheart, cause lunch ain’t ready yet.” he kisses her cheek, his eyes glinting with pure amazement as he looks at Claire. 

His little angel. 

Claire’s laughter slowly dies down and she plays with the rings on his fingers. Her lip wobbles and when she finally looks at him, her eyes shinny with tears. 

It breaks Tangerine’s heart to see her like that and he wants nothing but to slap the shit out of you for making your babygirl cry. 

“I… I miss mommy.” her voice breaks as she starts crying. Tangerine sighs, hole burning in his chest as he gently pushes her head to his shoulder, rocking her in an attempt to calm her down. His hand rubs her back, her small body shaking as she sobs.

“Daddy, I want m-mommy.” she begs. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But mommy still needs some time.” he tries to console her but to no avail. 

Claire cries for what seems like forever and when she finally calms down, Tangerine's shirt is soaking wet, the lunch long forgotten. 

It takes several deep breaths for him to calm down and although he wants to go see you so badly, he puts Claire to sleep first.

He tucks her into her pink bed, placing her favorite teddy bear next to her. A peaceful expression rests on her face, exhausted from all the crying and Tangerine kisses her forehead before leaving the room.

“She fuckin’ cried herself to sleep.” Tangerine shouts to your face, your scalp stinging as his grip on your hair tightens.

“Do y’fuckin understand that? She fuckin’ cried because of you. Cause you’re a fuckin’ shitty mother, that’s what you are.”

Thick tears fall down from your red eyes and you stumble back when he releases your hair, falling back as you trip on the heavy chain attached to your ankle. 

You fall butt-down, pain alastrating on your back but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even compare to the deep ache in your heart.

You also miss her. So much. It hurts that you haven’t seen your daughter in a week, kept in the basement as Tangerine lies about you being sick.  

“All she kept saying was how much she missed you. That she wanted you to feel better so she could finally see you. Fuck!”

“I…I’m so sorry.” you cry out. Tangerine only glares at you, nostrils flaring up. 

“This is all your fuckin’ fault. You just had to act smart, didn’t ya? Fucking’ hell.” his hand meets the wall with a loud bang and you wince, burying your face in your hands, frightened.

You’ve never seen him this angry before. Not even at the few times you tried to run away years ago. For once you’re actually glad that the basement is sound-proofed so that Claire doesn’t have to witness any of this. 

You messed up. Baldly. You should have known better than to plan an escape from Tangerine. 

But you were exhausted. Deeply tired of playing house with Tangerine. As much as you love your daughter but you want a better life. For yourself. For your sweet daughter. As much as you smile and laugh, pretending to be happy and in love with Tangerine for the sake of your daughter, you had reached your breaking point. 

“You're a selfish little’ bitch, only thinking ‘bout saving your own ass.” he snarls. 

You shake your head, desperate. 

“No! That’s not- She’s my daughter too.” 

Tangerine stares at you for what it seems forever and you hold your breath, watching him with a runny nose that you struggle to wipe with the back of your hand.

His hands on his hips as he considers you, neck veins bulging. He runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated as he exhales heavily.

“If you really love her, you gonna fuckin’ behave from now on. And I fuckin’ mean it. No more fuck up’s.” he warns you. 

Blinking away the tears, you nervously nod as he slowly walks towards you before stopping in front of you.

“Ya mean it, right? Then fuckin’ prove it cause you’re not leavin’ this basement without provin’ me that you can do better.” 

Confusion fills you until you see the look on Tangerine’s eyes. With shaky hands, you reach for his belt but he moves your hand towards his shirt and your heart drops. 

Not this. 

It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. You’re barely wet enough yet uncomfortably stretched by your husband’s cock as he slowly thrusts into you.

Given how angry he was, you were expecting him to fully rail you so you were surprised as he went at a slow, calm pace. Good for you.

His head is buried in your neck, low groans coming from him. It’s feel like an eternity as he fucks you gentle and deep till you lose track of time.

You suddenly hiss when his cock rams deep inside you, the thin old mattress softly squeaking under your combined weights. 

He pulls himself on his forearms, facing you as he starts to speed up, quickly slamming his hips forwards with a renewed force and you cry out, hands bawling the sheets. 

“S’ fucking’ tight, darling.” he husked, his sweaty curls falling to your face as he presses your foreheads together. “Gonn’ cum soon, fuck.”

His breathing halts as he fucks you vigorously, urgency in his thrusts. He doesn’t last longer, your velvety walls tightly squeezing his cock just the right way for him to approach his orgasm.

“Fuck, oh, fuck.” with a final harsh thrust, his body tenses up before finally relaxing. Tangerine releases a loud grunt, reaching his high while being balls deep inside you, his hands coming to grab your face as he connects your lips into a needy kiss, the bitter taste of cigarettes on him. 

When he lets you go, you release a shaky breath, feeling gross and violated with his cum beginning to leak. 

His nose touches yours, skin shiny with sweat and his blue eyes half-closed as he exhales, the warm breath hitting your face. He doesn’t seem that angry anymore, men really think with their dicks. 

“That was fuckin’ nice.” he smiles, his knuckles sweetly fawning over your cheek. “Maybe we should consider giving Claire a sibling. I think she’d love a baby brother.”

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

This might be a bit of an uncomfortable topic, but do you feel that Kate's cancer diagnosis has changed the Sussex PR strategy?

I'm seeing a lot less olive branches, and less of that kind of PR overall. It stopped the "royal racist" line of attack stone cold dead.

Where do the Sussex go from here - if you care to offer an educated guess based on tracking new rumors and PR analysis - when they can't take potshots at their favorite target?

Yes and no.

Yes, the racist royal storyline has definitely been dropped, but I don't think it was exclusively because of Kate's illness. I think it was because of the hot mess Scobie (and Meghan) got into with the Dutch translation of Endgame leaking out; the only way that they could rescue themselves was if the racist royal story was dropped completely, and then Kate was sick right after and someone had a tiny sliver of humanity to know better. (My theory is that it was WME who knew better, because Sussex Squad was still going all in on kkkate.)

No, because the olive branch and reconciliation stories are still out there. It's just Harry being the face of those stories this time (they were Meghan's stories a bit before this) and they're spinning it in a "we just want to support them and help however we can" kind of way. I think the difference why this round of olive branches and reconciliation isn't getting any traction is because William and KP has done a very good job making it unequivocally clear - through leaks, through the rota, through their reactions to Charles's trial balloons - that the Waleses do not reciprocate the desire for reconciliation because they have other, more urgent, more bigger things to focus on at the moment...like health matters.

As for when they'll fire up the Kate cannon again, well, it depends by what you mean. Sussex Squad has already been fired up, each time Kate makes an appearance. They make comments on social media, which then gets picked up by the blogs and the royal rota, of things like "hmm, she can go to Wimbledon in a designer dress but she can't go to a cancer charity" or "that's a fake lookalike because her smile is different" or "look at that line on her face, that's definitely a facelift scar" or "suuuuuuuuuure, she's getting chemo because look at all that hair" or "she's really faking that smile, she absolutely hates standing next to William, they're definitely divorcing." And they'll continue making these comments every time Kate makes a public appearance because that's what they do.

If you mean when will Harry and Meghan specifically say something that targets/attacks Kate? I don't know. It could be the fall, if they see William back on his "regular" schedule but Kate is still convalescing; they could make a dig at Kate thinking William won't notice. It could be after Kate has the all-clear and is able to resume working (because the optics of beating up on a cancer patient in the media definitely isn't good, let alone a cancer patient as well-loved as Kate is). It could be if/when the Sussexes becomes desperate enough for new attention from the BRF or William.

I do feel pretty confident saying that one of the reasons the Waleses are being very careful about Kate's day-to-day is because she worsens with stress. And if there's one thing everyone knows about the Sussexes, it's that they cause, and add to, stress everywhere they go and no one wants to take the risk of the Sussexes adding to Kate's stress and triggering flare-ups. (Because my takeaway from Rebecca's article isn't that Kate was sick for weeks or months before they planned surgery, she was actually suffering for years, like maybe it was a chronic condition she could manage by avoiding triggers and it just became critically urgent in January to address.)

So I would speculate that the Sussexes might be a little more hands-off regarding their use of Kate in the media until she's fully back full-time but they'll use Sussex Squad to poke and poke and poke in the meantime.

But we'll see. Things can always change.

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 21: The Lie that I'm Fed

Summary: In the aftermath of the Times Square attack, Thor asks Theo to do something that makes her start to question her understanding of her friendship with Loki. 

Contents: This entire chapter takes place in a hospital; however, there really isn’t much (if any) blood or gore. There are, however, descriptions of medical equipment, a touch of angst, and some comfort in the mix.

Word Count: 11,572

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

The Lie That I’m Fed

Song: Down on my Head - Yellowcard

I work all night for one more day  That I can say I’m all alone, alone I just need time, and I will say What I believe and I’ll come home, home And all I know…

When Theo promised she’d be back to the ED after the attack, she hadn’t meant for it to be as a patient. However, the moment Theo walked through the door Julie took one look at the blood covered, bruised up Avenger and immediately ordered Theo into the nearest treatment room.  

…. Which is how Theo found herself sitting on a stretcher in one of the treatment rooms, trying not to roll her eyes as Julie fussed over her.

At least they set the head of the bed up so she had something to lean on while she waited for Julie to tell Theo what she already knew — that she would be fine. Other than what would turn into an annoying black eye and bruised, throbbing knuckles from the stupid decision to punch someone, Theo had emerged relatively unscathed. The only reason she even agreed to be checked over was because smoke from the explosions meant she might have accidentally exacerbated her asthma.

Well, that and Julie could be a bit scary when she got overprotective.

From where Theo sat, she could easily spot the familiar beige and gray carts filled with medical supplies, the bright red biohazard bin, the steel tray that sat at the ready in case of impromptu surgical procedures. Despite being able to rattle off the contents of every drawer and cabinet in the room, for whatever reason they always seemed a bit foreign when she was in the room as the patient and not the provider.

“So your lungs don’t sound bad at the moment,” Julie concluded, draping her stethoscope around her neck. “However, If you need your rescue inhaler more than twice this week, make sure to get an appointment with your pulmonologist. With the circumstances, it could take a bit of time for an inhalation injury to become apparent.” 

“Usually it takes a couple hours for an inhalation injury to show up, Jules, not a couple days,” Theo pointed out. “If you aren’t noticing anything now, I’m sure I’m fine.”

“We don’t know what was in that smoke,” Julie countered, dark eyes trained on Theo. “If there was an irritant that managed to settle in your lungs, it may not trigger symptoms right away. I’d prefer you don’t land your ass in the hospital from a sudden asthma attack or airway inflammation.”

“Is that just because you don’t want to cover any more shifts while everyone’s out next month?” Theo teased, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

“You and I both know that I wouldn’t be covering your shifts—” Julie feigned offense, a radiant grin offsetting the horror in her tone. “I’d find coverage for both of our shifts, because I’d be the one staying with you until you were back on your feet again, even though it means sleeping on a couch.”

History proved that Julie wasn’t exaggerating. During the year they lived together while in their residencies, Theo picked up a nasty case of bronchitis that made her asthma flare. Julie insisted on going with Theo to the doctor; when the doctor decided that Theo needed to be monitored in the hospital, Julie quite literally camped out on the hospital couch for three days, despite Theo’s reassurances that Julie could go home and sleep in her own bed.

“You have a point,” a small, grateful smile curled over Theo’s lips. As much as she hated being in a position where she needed that help, she appreciated having a friend who would show up, no questions asked, and be there for her.

In a lot of ways, Julie and Loki had that in common; when shit hit the fan, they didn’t think twice before they helped her through it. 

… Except Loki now thought of Theo as weak and unable to handle her shit. 

Ugh.

“Hey, do you know how Loki’s doing?” Theo glanced over Julie’s shoulder and towards the door. “I started treating him in the field and then got pulled away once the medics got to him. Last I saw, he wasn’t in great shape.”

“I’m not sure,” Julie glanced up from her tablet and frowned. “I overheard Helen saying they hadn’t been able to get a hold of Thor. Maybe you could see if they reached him, and if not you could try calling Thor for them? It’d give you a reason to check his chart.”

Theo almost smirked at Julie’s thinly-veiled attempt to circumvent healthcare privacy laws, but the lack of an assurance that Loki was okay dispelled any shred of amusement. 

“If you can’t tell me that’s fine,” Theo dryly remarked, “but I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to be giving me workarounds to HIPAA.” 

“Eh, you have top secret security clearance.” Julie shrugged. “I’m not worried about you abusing access to healthcare records. I know you have to pull them for mission reports anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Theo looked at the door for a second time, shifting her weight back and forth between her feet. “Need me for anything else? Or am I good to go?”

“I don’t need you for anything else, but are we going to talk about that?” Julie pointed at Theo’s right hand, which at that moment Theo covered with an ice pack.

“What about it?”

“You obviously punched someone…” Julie trailed off, grimacing when Theo removed the ice pack, revealing purple splotches already blooming on swollen knuckles. “… or something.”

“Your point?”

“You don’t punch.”

“Yeah I do.” 

“No,” Julie saw right through Theo’s attempt to prevent further conversation on what had been an absolute clusterfuck of an evening. “Not unless there’s a damn good reason.”

“I got punched first?” Theo tried, though she knew it wasn’t likely to work.

“No,” Julie quickly shook her head. “You’d have stabbed them.” 

“Well,” Theo smirked, “I did that too.”

“So why—“

Theo rolled her eyes and groaned. “Look, I was pissed—“

“—What the hell pissed you off so badly that you punched someone?!” 

“I—It’s just—“ the more Theo thought about it, the more annoyed she became. Yes, annoyed by Loki’s assumptions and by Chris’s reckless flaunting of his new relationship, but more at herself. She should have had the self-control to ignore the crowd. She should have practiced restraint when she was attacked, not giving into aggression. She should have stayed close to Loki so she could have taken down that handler and prevented their escape. Then she could have learned who recognized her, and maybe gotten closer to figuring out who the hell knew her secret and why they were coming after her.

“… It’s just what?” 

Snapped from her self-deprecation, Theo huffed. “Look, I’m pretty sure I saw Chris standing on the sidelines watching—“

“— You’re kidding—“Julie’s jaw dropped. 

“—And he wasn’t alone,” Theo added with a nod. Realistically, Chris and his flavor of the week were the least of Theo’s concerns, but it was better than trying to explain the handler situation, or that things were weird with Loki. The former was a conversation she never wanted to have, and the latter was a conversation that required a girl’s night with wine… lots of wine. “Apparently he has a new girlfriend, or watching a shadow creature attack was enough of a turn on that they couldn’t stop themselves from making out right there and then.”

“Fuck that — I’d be pissed too. But why punch someone?”

“I told you…” Theo rolled her eyes a second time. “I got caught off guard. It was more of a reaction than anything.”

“Well, don’t do it again,” Julie replied with a stern look and a tone that teetered on the edge of scolding. “You know as well as I do that you‘re lucky you didn’t seriously fuck up your hand in the process, and that’s the hand you do everything with.”

“I’m sure I’ll be reminded every time I move it for the next week or two…” Theo drawled, barely biting back a wince as she pressed the ice pack to her injury once more. “Now, can I go?”

I never thought I would wake up in bed Watching the world coming down on my head I’d sleep like a dog if you would never have said This is the world coming down on your head

After a detour to the staff locker room to shower and change into some clean scrubs, Theo sat down at the nursing station computer and pulled Loki’s chart. Reading through the notes, a tenuous relief flowed through her - though Loki had gone into shock, Theo’s healing mitigated the worst of the effects. Sure, he still had to have surgery and would need some time to recover, but it could have been worse.

Still, the thought of someone being powerful enough to injure a god so severely left an unsettling pit in Theo’s stomach. Even worse, that person escaped because Theo couldn’t keep up, leaving nothing but questions and destruction in their wake.

Theo didn’t want to call Thor to tell him bad news, but someone needed to do it. She dialed Thor’s number, wondering with each passing ring if he could even receive phone calls when he wasn’t on Earth. 

“Hello?” Right as Theo prepared to get a voicemail greeting, Thor answered.

“Hey Thor, it’s Theo.”

“Lady Theo! I was not expecting your call!” Somehow, even through the phone, Thor’s voice boomed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He must not have noticed that Theo called the emergency number.

“Well,” Theo hesitated, cringing to herself as she took a deep breath. “Not sure if you heard, but earlier today there was a pretty big shadow creature attack on Times Square. Everyone here responded and stopped the attack—” she braced herself for the potential reaction as she continued, “— but Loki was injured in the fighting—”

“—Is he alright?” In the drop of a hat, all of the casual warmth vanished from Thor’s voice, replaced with a desperation and raw fear that twisted Theo’s heart in a knot. 

“—Yeah! Loki’s being treated right now—” Theo quickly clarified before Thor could spiral into a full-blown panic. Notifying next of kin about a patient’s condition was never fun, but having to deliver the news to friends was absolutely worse. “He’s currently in surgery, but it’s a pretty routine procedure and he’s being operated on by the best of the best. They’ll take good care of him.”

On the other end of the phone, Thor let out a heavy, nervous sigh. “What sort of wounds did my brother sustain?”

“The wounds requiring surgery are a laceration to the right upper abdomen and a stab wound to his thigh. The abdominal wound was the more serious of the two, but I was able to heal some of that one in the field so it’s not as serious as it originally had been. They’re both deep enough that they need to be stitched up from the inside or they won’t heal properly, which is why he’s in surgery,” Theo said. “He lost a lot of blood, but they’ve already given him additional blood and are prepared to give him more if needed. He also has a concussion and a laceration to his head, but the head laceration was pretty shallow and shouldn’t need any stitches. Otherwise, standard bumps and bruises from fighting.”

“And his recovery time?”

“He’s going to be admitted for at least a few days; all things considered, I’d estimate around a week. Anytime there’s significant blood loss, patients are initially monitored in the ICU in case of any complications. I’m sure the doctors will also want to make sure the wounds heal properly.” Theo continued, cradling the phone in the crook of her shoulder as she glanced around at the bustling unit. “That said, with his enhanced healing he has a pretty quick recovery ahead of him. I’m sure he’ll be back on his feet in no time. I know you’re off-planet right now, but we wanted you to be aware of what’s going on.”

“I thank you for your consideration,” Thor solemnly replied. “We expect to complete our objective within a few hours. I will inform the others that we are to return immediately so that I may be with my brother. The journey will take a couple of days if we do not encounter any difficulties.” 

“Sounds good. Is there anyone else I should call and give updates to while you’re gone, or who you think should stay with him, at least until you’re back?” As Theo asked the question, she had already started looking up Val’s phone number in anticipation of Thor’s answer.

“If you could notify the Valkyrie, I would be most grateful. She will ensure matters related to New Asgard are managed accordingly.” Thor let out a tense exhale on the opposite end of the phone. “May I make a request, my lady?” 

“Sure,” Theo shrugged, even though Thor couldn’t see her. “What’s up?”

“My brother…” Thor faltered, then drew in an audible breath.  “Anytime he does not feel as if he has full control of himself or awareness of his surroundings, he does not react well. With the many medicines that dull the senses and limit consciousness, I am sure you understand how infirmary admissions would be challenging for him. I fear what might happen if he wakes from surgery without a trusted, familiar presence to reassure him of his safety.”

The way Thor prefaced his request opened up a pit of worry in Theo’s stomach. Even if Val picked up the phone right away, the only way she’d make it to New York in time for Loki to get out of surgery would be if Tony sent a quinjet to pick them up; given SHIELD was in rapid response mode after the attack, the odds of getting approved for a non-emergency and non-mission pickup were… well, none. 

“You are my brother’s closest friend, and I know without a doubt he trusts you with his life. If there is anyone else who could be there in my stead to provide the reassurance he needs, it would be you. Would you stay with my brother until I return?”

Wait…  what?

“You—You want me to stay in the hospital with him until you get back— like, stay overnight with him?” Unsure if she heard him correctly, Theo repeated the request back to Thor. 

Closest friend? Since when was she Loki’s closest friend? What about Val? They seemed pretty close, from what Theo could tell. They’d known each other for much longer, and they had been through a lot together. What about Wanda? Or Bruce — sure, there was the whole hulk smash thing, but they both escaped Sakaar together and worked together in establishing New Asgard. Hell, even Bucky or Sam would have made more sense, given the length of time Loki knew each other and from what Theo had observed of their friendships/dynamics in the field. 

So why would Theo be the one Thor asked?

“I recognize I am asking much of you, but know it is not a request I make lightly,” Thor implored, “it’s simply — I trust that my brother will recover in body, but I worry for the impact this will have upon his mind and spirit—”

“— Yeah, of course, I’ll stay with him,” Theo quickly promised, still trying to wrap her mind around the rationale. “The request just… it surprised me, that’s all. I’m happy to help out.”

Sure, she was annoyed about the whole assumption thing and she didn’t get why Thor asked her, of all people, but Loki always had her back when she needed him, so the very least she could do was return the favor. 

“Thank you, my lady,” Thor sighed, only sounding marginally relieved. “I assure you, I would not ask if I did not believe it to be necessary for my brother’s wellbeing. My gratitude knows no bounds.”

“It’s all good, Thor,” Theo replied. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news — I know it’s not the kind of phone call you want to get. But I promise, he’s got the best of the best taking care of him. Are there any questions I can answer for you at the moment?”

“None at this time, though I imagine I will have additional inquiries soon.”

“Okay, well, feel free to text or call me as questions come up. Otherwise, I’ll call Val to let her know, and I’ll let you know as I have updates, okay?”

“Very well; again, thank you, truly. I am in your debt.” 

After ending the call and updating Loki’s records to reflect that Thor had been notified, Theo slouched back in the desk chair as the reality of what she agreed to washed over her.

Two days of staying with Loki, who she was not on the best of terms with at that moment, who may not even want her there… and if Thor was right, who would be very unhappy about being in the hospital.

Theo scrubbed her face with one hand as she tried to convince herself this was a good idea. Loki needed someone to stay with him, and Theo wasn’t about to abandon him; then again, what if he kicked her out? Would he let someone else stay with him — maybe Val, once she got to New York? Or would he refuse to let anyone try and help? What would Theo tell Thor – ‘sorry, your brother actually is pissed at me and kicked me out?’

To make matters worse, she didn’t even know what Thor meant when he said Loki would be “unhappy” about being in the hospital. Did that mean angry? Upset? Scared? Would Loki try to refuse treatment, or use magic when he wasn’t supposed to, or even try to leave before the doctors discharged him? Would he lash out, or try to shut everyone out? 

The more she thought about it, the more she considered calling Thor back and asking just what exactly she should be prepared for; however, Thor was technically on a mission, so trying to call him for something that wasn’t an emergency or an update on his brother was likely to get her chewed out by Fury.

As if the universe knew her predicament, her cell phone pinged with a notification from the group chat…

… Maybe the other Avengers could help.

As life flies by, I’m not sure  How I’m gonna do this all again, again  So line by line, I write this down And I just try to find the end, the end And all I know…

An hour passed from when Theo left the Emergency Department to when she strolled into the waiting room. Unlike the emergency department, which prioritized practicality and utilitarianism over aesthetics in its design, the rest of the hospital — where patients and their families passed through, at least — looked more like they were a part of a luxury hotel. 

Of course, since Tony Stark paid for everything, his preferences shined in the design: waiting areas were furnished with minimalistic furniture in muted, yet soothing shades of blues, greens, and grays. The nurses stations featured crisp, white stone countertops with faint gray veins that flowed across the surface. Overhead, modern light fixtures of varying shapes and sizes illuminated every nook and cranny. What appeared to be espresso-stained hardwood floors were actually made of a special antimicrobial, non-slip material — one of the few signs that they were in a hospital. 

Theo scanned the groups of seating around the waiting room. According to the group chat most of the team had set up shop together, working on post-attack reports and following up on various leads as they waited for updates on Loki’s surgery. It didn’t take long for her to spot Natasha, who waved as Theo approached. 

As expected, Natasha was far from alone: Bucky sat close enough beside her that their shoulders brushed, while Sam sat on Bucky’s other side. Peter had sprawled out on the floor, lanky legs stretched out in front of him with his laptop on his lap. Wanda curled up with Vision on a nearby loveseat, her head resting on his shoulder while he kept a comforting hand on her thigh. Yelena sat with her legs curled underneath her on the chair, holding her phone like she had just been scrolling through TikTok. Shuri sat next to Yelena, using an end table to hold a holographic display as she used her computer to modify what looked like an invention of some kind.  

“You know that we’re only going to be here for a few hours, not a few days, right?” Sam arched an eyebrow at the pair of oversized duffel bags Theo carried, practically bursting at the seams from the amount of stuff she shoved inside.

“You’re going to be here for a few hours,” Theo replied, dropping the bag to the floor before taking the nearest open seat, “but I’m probably going to be here for a few days.”

Sam’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why?”

“When I called Thor to let him know what was going on, he asked if I could stay with Loki until he gets back to Earth… which it sounds like will be in two or three days.”

“So Thor asked you to stay with Loki?” Bucky clarified, narrowing his eyes at Theo as if he was looking for something more.

”I think it was one of those things where he was freaking out because he didn’t want his brother to be alone, and since I was the one on the phone at that time, I ended up being the person he asked,” Theo shrugged. “It’s probably a good thing — I can be the point of contact for updates and relaying information back and forth, and I can still work on stuff while I’m there. Besides, with the number of times Loki has dealt with me being a literal shit show, I think I owe him at least a few days of waiting on him hand and foot.”

“Okay, fine, but are we going to talk about how you packed more for three days than most people pack for a month?” Shuri teased, eyeing the bags. “Those are about to burst!”

“In my defense, most of it isn’t for me!” Theo confessed, her cheeks inexplicably burning. “I stopped by Loki’s suite and the gift shop to grab some stuff that I thought he might want or would make him more comfortable and a bit less miserable, at least until Thor gets back.”

“Pretty sure just having you around will make him less miserable,” Natasha wryly pointed out, eyes glittering as she smirked at Theo. 

Theo shot Natasha with a skeptical glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’d gut everyone in this room before he’d admit it,” Yelena replied with an expression identical to Natasha’s; for a lack of shared DNA, they certainly acted like sisters. “But he has a soft spot for you.” 

“Yeah,“ Peter chimed in, “You’re definitely his favorite person on the team—“ 

“Mm,” Theo shook her head, “I’m pretty sure that’s Thor—”

“—Fine, you’re his favorite human on the team,” Natasha replied.

“I think you’re overselling it, but whatever.” Theo rolled her eyes and laughed it off, though her pulse quickened at the thought. First Thor, now the others — was there something that Theo hadn’t noticed? “Soft spot or not, Thor said Loki wouldn’t be happy about being in the hospital, but he didn’t really explain what that meant… any idea about what I should expect?”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in the hospital,” Wanda replied, her expression thoughtful, “but when he gets sick he’s pretty cranky... Like he’s in one of his moods.”

“Okay, so three days of him grouching at me over anything and everything,” Theo nodded. Behind her unfazed expression, she wondered how much worse it would be since they were mid-argument. “Well, it could be worse.” 

“At least you’re prepared for him to be grouchy,” Yelena muttered, earning a snort of laughter from Shuri. 

“He’ll probably be doped up on pain meds though,” Sam offered, “so he may be too stoned to be cranky.”

“That’ll probably piss him off more,” Bucky quickly shook his head, scowling at Sam. “Losing control of yourself messes with your head, even after you’re back to normal. After what he went through, with Thanos? I bet it stirs up some really messed up emotions. Getting pissed off would be understandable.”

Oh… shit. Theo hadn’t even considered that possibility.

“If you need a break, let me know,” Wanda offered, the gold flecks in her irises catching the light as she gave Theo a small, understanding smile that made Theo wonder if she let her nonplussed demeanor slip.  ”I can switch with you for a bit.” 

“Thanks — Val’s planning to fly out here tomorrow, so I’m betting she’d also trade out,” Theo said, careful to make sure she didn't show any more signs that there were other reasons to worry. “but it’s good to know I have options.” 

Hopefully, though, she wouldn’t need them…

I never thought I would wake up in bed Watching the world coming down on my head I’d sleep like a dog if you would never have said This is the world coming down on your head

Switching roles from doctor to patient was strange, but manageable. 

Switching from doctor to support person was much, much harder.

Waiting for updates was perhaps even worse when Theo knew all the possible complications and the worst outcomes, all of which might be happening at that moment and she would be none the wiser. When the estimated time they were supposed to get an update came and went without a word, Theo found herself trying to silence the worried voices in her head as she tried to reassure the others that delays were not in and of themselves cause for concern: more often than not, they stemmed from administrative matters, such as putting in post-op orders for the current patient, or the surgeon may have been on their way to give the update when they were pulled aside to consult on an emergent patient. 

The eventual appearance of the receptionist, inviting the group to a nearby conference room and promising the surgeon would be there shortly, either meant the news was bad, or the patient was of a high-enough profile that extra privacy was crucial. 

Likely the latter, but that didn’t stop Theo from considering the former as a distinct possibility.

The group had barely settled into the cramped conference room — not meant to hold almost a dozen people — when Dr. Zergaw arrived, closely followed by Helen.

Dr. Zergaw, the surgeon in charge of Loki’s operation, smiled warmly at the group as she greeted them and introduced herself, her deep brown eyes and gentle voice giving no sign of concern. She must have taken time to change out of her surgical attire, wearing a fresh set of green scrubs with a white overcoat that contrasted her ebony hair, which she kept braided back in small, neat rows.

Helen’s presence made sense, as she consulted on any case involving non-human patients; similar to Dr. Zergaw, she lacked any of the tells Theo could expect when bad news was to follow.

Together, the doctors affirmed that everything went well; though Loki would be admitted to the ICU, it was so they could monitor him closely in case of complications related to hypovolemic shock. All-in-all, as long as he took it easy, the road to recovery would be smooth.

Visiting hours had long passed by then, so the rest of the Avengers returned to the residential part of the tower while Dr. Zergaw walked with Theo to Loki’s room. Along the way, the surgeon filled her in on the technical details of the procedure that she wouldn’t typically share with patients or their families. Too much jargon could be intimidating and cause unnecessary worry, but with a fellow doctor it was a chance to nerd out, especially since Loki’s biology differed slightly from operating on a human.

Except… Theo couldn’t help the discomfort that roiled in her stomach as she learned just how narrowly they avoided a much worse outcome. It was one thing to talk shop, but when it was someone she cared about, she almost wished she had remained in the dark.

The late hour meant the halls were quiet as they entered the unit, other than the occasional squeak of nurses’ rubber soled shoes on the floor and the random chime of an IV pump that needed its settings adjusted. 

It wasn’t until they were nearly at the end of the hall that Theo could hear anyone speaking.

“Big cough— there you go. You’re okay. Alright, deep breath through your nose…”

Dr. Zergaw’s pace slowed, coming to a stop in front of the last door in the hallway. The metal and glass door hadn’t been completely closed, allowing for parts of the conversation inside to be heard from the hall.

”Can you tell me your name and birthday? … Good, good. Wiggle your toes for me— great. And squeeze my hands… great.”

“He’s inside,” Dr. Zergaw gestured to the door, “sounds like the nurses are in with him now, but you should be able to go in. Let me know if you have questions.”

After thanking the doctor, Theo drew in a deep breath, braced herself for any number of scenarios, and slipped inside. She turned around as she carefully closed the steel-framed door, the latch sliding into place with a muffled click. Her eyes flicked up to the frosted glass inlay, focusing on the individual, almost granular specks worn into the material from the etching process. She released a slow, measured exhale, then spun back around. 

The room was far more spacious than the typical hospital room, closer in size and arrangement to a hotel suite or a studio apartment than a hospital room. All it took was a quick glance to know that the same design philosophy found within the waiting areas and public-facing areas of the hospital applied here: minimalist furniture upholstered in soothing blues and greens, white stone countertops, varying light sources that could all be brightened or dimmed as needed, and flourishes of cool-toned woods throughout.

Ahead of Theo, positioned so the head of the bed was against the wall on her right, was Loki’s hospital bed. Flanking each side of the bed was a nurse, too busy tending to Loki to notice Theo’s arrival. 

When Theo finally laid eyes on Loki, she froze.  

Sure, his complexion no longer rivaled a ghost, but he was still so pale he practically blended into the sheets, except for where he had cuts or bruises that marred his usually pristine skin. Instead of piercing green eyes that noticed every little detail, he looked around from beneath heavy lashes with a cloudy, vacant stare. Somehow, it looked like the hospital bed swallowed him whole.

Eventually, Theo ripped her eyes away from Loki, instead watching the nurses. A copper-haired nurse with a dusting of freckles across her cheeks adjusted the settings and labeling tubes on the dozen IV pumps mounted at the bedside. She barely looked old enough to legally drink, yet moved with such practiced ease and familiarity that she must have been a veteran on the unit.

The other nurse – a short, plump woman with terra-cotta skin and streaks of silver interspersed in her dark hair – focused her attention on Loki. She wore the type of gentle, caring smile that often came with years of experience tending to others; at least the nurses assigned to Loki’s care seemed like they were up to the task. 

“... You already had surgery. Everything went really well. We brought you to your room while you were still sleeping,” she explained to Loki in a low, calming voice, resting a comforting hand on his arm. “We’re going to keep a close watch and make sure you’re comfortable while you heal. All you need to do is relax and get some rest, okay?” 

Loki’s gaze meandered up to the nurse, staring blankly at her for a few moments before his brows slowly drew together, and he frowned.

“Thor…?” Loki mumbled, voice raspy enough that he winced at the sound. “Where’s… Thor?”

“He’s on his way—“ Theo spoke up, alerting the rest of the room to her presence. The nurses watched Theo approach, both raising a curious brow when they noticed the jam-packed bags that Theo carried. Loki, however, didn’t notice Theo’s presence until she stopped at the foot of the bed. When he finally looked at her, she offered him a small smile, praying that she looked more confident than she felt. “He’s going to be here as soon as he can.”

“… Oh,” Loki diverted his attention, staring down at the blankets; he swallowed thickly, the sharp angle of his jaw shifting as if the movement brought discomfort.

“We’ll take great care of you, your highness,” the nurse who had been adjusting his IVs assured him. “Is there anything we can get you?”

No.” Loki barely shook his head, instead closing his eyes; despite acting like he intended to go back to sleep, the tension in his facial expression remained. 

While the nurses raised the bed rails and reminded Loki of the call button, Theo dropped the pair of duffel bags on the couch, then moved an armchair closer to Loki’s bedside and took a seat. She watched the nurses leave, waiting for the click of the door latching shut before she addressed Loki.

“Hey,” Theo took Loki’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. His skin felt like ice to her touch, stirring up dredges of concern from deep within. “You alright?”

“M’m fine.” A strained exhale followed the short, mumbled answer. “How long…?”

“Until Thor gets here?” Theo ventured, her guess affirmed by a listless nod from Loki. “Not totally sure, but I know he is doing everything he can to get here as soon as possible.”

Even with his eyes wrenched shut, the way Loki’s eyelids twitched, along with the smallest glisten near his lashes, caught Theo’s attention. 

“—That doesn’t mean he’s unreachable though! He has been texting with me ever since he heard the news, constantly asking for updates. We could try FaceTiming him if you want?”

Loki blinked a few times, eventually looking at Theo with a sort of vacant expression that left Theo questioning if Loki understood what she said…

… Damn, he really wasn’t feeling like himself.

After a few moments of Loki continuing to simply stare, Theo pulled her starkpad from her bag and held it up for Loki to see, hoping that the visual would prompt a response.

Finally, Loki gave a small, yet decisive, nod.

“Great, let me just call…“ With a few quick taps, Theo unlocked the tablet and scrolled through her contacts, eventually locating Thor near the bottom of the list.

Hopefully, with the frequency that Thor had been messaging Theo, he’d see the incoming call and would answer right away. Theo wasn’t sure she was prepared for the alternative.

She pressed the call icon.

“Lady Theo—“ Thor answered part-way through the first ring, his answer unleashing a wave of relief within Theo. “—What news do you bring of my brother?”

At the sound of Thor’s voice, Loki’s face softened and crumpled at the same time. He tried to hide his reaction behind one hand, but it only made the response more obvious. Yet another knot tied itself tighter in Theo’s chest.

“Someone just woke up and asked for you—” Theo explained as she set the tablet on the over-bed table so Loki could easily see Thor, and vice-versa, removing herself from line of sight. “—So I thought we could give you a call and you two could chat.”

“Loki!” Even without seeing Thor’s expression, his relief came through the device clear as day. “How are you feeling?”

“I—“ Loki cut himself off, almost like he wanted to tamp down his honesty. “…Thor.”

An undercurrent of panic flowed through his response. 

Thor replied with something in what Theo could only assume was Asgardian, and Loki responded in turn, this time without the previous hesitancy. Between Thor’s hushed, smooth tone and Loki’s hitched breaths and shaky responses, Theo had a pretty good idea of what was going on: Loki was on the verge of an anxiety attack, and Thor was helping him through it. Based on Loki’s physical cues and the change in language, Theo decided the best thing she could do was step back and let them have some privacy. 

So, with Loki fully focused on the tablet in front of him, Theo cautiously rose from her seat, crept over to the duffel bags, and began to unpack. Unpacking was the perfect task for the moment: it gave Theo something to focus on that wasn’t the video call, but it kept her close by in case anything came up. Plus, she wouldn’t have to worry about waking up Loki with the sound of opening doors or drawers as she familiarized herself with the room and its amenities.

And, though she wouldn’t admit it, unpacking everything meant no one else could give her a hard time about everything she brought with her. After all, most of it wasn’t even for her, though what she brought was based on her own experience and knowledge of what actually was helpful to have and what was nice in theory, but didn’t really help.

After unzipping the first duffel bag, Theo looked around to get a sense of her storage options. Two seating areas flanked the hospital bed. The couch where Theo had dropped the duffel bags was on one side, accompanied by a coffee table and lightweight armchairs that created a large seating area equipped to host visitors. Theo retrieved the few things she took from Loki’s suite – books he was reading, his starkpad, various charging cords, headphones – and set them on the coffee table for the moment, since the over-bed table was in use.

On the opposite side of the bed, a pair of reclining armchairs sat close enough to converse with a patient, yet out of the path of traffic; the perfect place to stash the collection of bedding Theo picked up at the gift shop, knowing how much they helped make the bed more comfortable. Theo carefully stacked the varying shapes and sizes of pillows on the seat of a recliner, then draped the half-folded fleece blankets across the back. Once Loki felt a bit more calm she’d offer the additional bedding, but if he wanted them before Theo could offer, they’d be easy for her to grab.

Across from the bed, most of the wall was made up of a pair of floor to ceiling pocket doors in a lighter espresso wood; however, the parts that weren’t the doors offered shelves and drawers for storage, and a small workstation with a chair tucked in along the wall. 

Guessing that Loki would want to change out of the hospital gown as soon as possible, Theo made sure to purchase a couple sets of pajamas that were easy to change into while allowing easy access to injuries and IV sites. She had debated bringing some from his suite, but  the idea of rifling through his closet seemed a bit too invasive; she did, however, double check with FRIDAY to make sure she bought the correct sizes. She also bought a robe and slippers with grippy soles, since they could be used even before ditching the hospital gown. 

Theo folded the pajamas and set them on one of the shelves, then repeated the process with the robe. The slippers were placed beside the robe so everything was in one convenient location.

Before she continued, Theo stopped to check out the flat-screen TV mounted in the corner, angled down towards the patient bed. From a quick glance at the mount, it looked like it would be easy to move around; though she didn’t touch it, Theo made a mental note in case they needed to adjust it later. 

Theo walked over to the pocket doors, sliding them open to reveal a second seating area with couch and armchairs that matched the furniture in the other half of the room, as well as a dining area that seated up to four people and a kitchenette, complete with sink, mini fridge, electric kettle, and microwave. She thought back to the day Helen and Julie showed her around: 

“One of the important aspects of patient-centered care is incorporating friends and family into visits,” Helen had said, opening a similar set of doors to reveal that each room wasn’t just a room, but a suite. “This design allows loved ones to be close by without having to cram into one room. It also gives loved ones a respite, and lets them easily access some basic comforts while navigating a stressful situation.”

Theo had been impressed by the amenities when she first learned about them; now, she was grateful for them. Along with a water bottle for Loki, Theo set her own water bottle on the counter by the sink with plans to fill it up once everything was put away.

All the while, Theo toed the line between eavesdropping and ignorance as best she could. As much as she wanted to allow the brothers some privacy, she also needed to pay attention in case they needed her for something - after all, Thor didn’t need any more reasons to worry about Loki while he was gone, and an inattentive caretaker would certainly be cause for concern. 

With most of Loki’s stuff taken care of, she switched to unpacking her own stuff. She set her own books and her laptop next to Loki’s on the coffee table, then ducked around the furniture to plug in the chargers she’d need for her assorted devices. Rather than pull all of her clothes out of the second duffel, Theo stuck the entire thing in the drawer beneath Loki’s pajamas. If she really felt ambitious she could actually take stuff out of the bag later, but for the moment she just wanted her stuff out of the way.

Theo slipped into the bathroom, fully expecting to linger just long enough to drop off the bags of toiletries she retrieved from her go-bag and from Loki’s go-bag, only to be stopped in her tracks by the room before her. 

…Not only was the bathroom the nicest hospital bathroom she’d ever seen, it might have been even nicer than her own bathroom.

A large bathtub that looked like it came straight from Architectural Digest stood as the focal point of the room, offering the option of hydrotherapy while cleverly disguising the signs that the tub had been designed for side access and patients with limited mobility. A separate shower stood nearby, sectioned off by a floor-to-ceiling pane of glass. Porcelain, ceramic, and engineered marble finishes in shades of white and soft gray coordinated seamlessly with the matte black faucets, shower head, and grab bars, while espresso wood from the shower bench and a shelving unit by the bathtub gave the room a sleek, spa-like feel.

When Theo finally got herself back together, she plopped both bags of toiletries on the marble counter, tucked away in a back corner so they wouldn’t get in the way or knocked onto the floor. 

Just before she left, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused. The tender spot on her cheek had already begun to darken, a patch of indigo rising to the surface of her swollen skin. Good thing she didn’t have any public appearances or photoshoots planned, because that bruise was going to get worse before it got better. Heavy bags sagged beneath her bloodshot eyes. If that was how bad she looked after freshening up, she could only imagine how rough she must have looked before.

The only things left in the remaining duffel bag were Theo’s blanket and pillow, which she had swiped from her own couch. She took the remaining items from the last duffel bag, tucked the empty bag away, and then set about preparing her own spot to sleep. 

The couch that Theo initially set the duffel bags on could transform into a bed by moving a couple parts. Behind the couch, a wall of windows extended to the ceiling, framed by two sets of curtains: one set of pale gray sheer drapes, the other made of heavy, sage green velour meant to block out all light. Outside was a clear view of the New York skyline, city lights glistening in the dead of night. 

Lacking the patience to properly convert the couch into a bed, Theo simply tossed her pillow on the far end of the couch, then laid out her own blanket across the cushions. Maybe she’d regret it in the morning, but given she wasn’t even sure she would have a chance to sleep, she didn’t fret too much about it.

Just as Theo finished straightening her blanket, the sound of Thor calling her name caught her attention. She turned around to check just in time for Thor to call her name again, prompting Theo to check in on the brothers. 

She crept over to the bed, only to find that Loki had dozed off; unsurprising, since the anesthesia was still wearing off and he had some extremely heavy pain meds in his system. Even in his sleep, his brows pinched together and left a small crease on his forehead, and he wore a slight frown. On the tablet screen, Thor peered from side to side as he repeated Theo’s name.

“Hey,“ Theo kept her voice low as she picked up the tablet. She slipped into the other room and cracked the doors so she could converse without disturbing Loki, but also keep an eye on him. “Sorry, I wanted to give you two some privacy, so I was just—“

“—Thank you for calling me—“ Thor began, but faltered. “I— I hesitate to think of what might have transpired had you not.”

“Is he okay?”

“For now…” Through the tablet screen, storms brewed behind Thor’s sapphire eyes. “I suspect you will have a long night ahead.” 

That wasn’t promising. 

“Can I call you again if—”

“—Of course.” Thor answered with such speed that Theo wondered if they’d been through a situation like this before. 

“If I can’t reach you, is there anything I can do to help him feel better?”

Thor let out a trembling breath of his own; he looked at something off-screen, lost in thought. “Our mother — Frigga — when Loki was small, if he fell ill, Frigga was the only one who could console him. In these moments, I try to comfort Loki as Frigga once comforted him. I am nowhere near as successful, unfortunately.” A bittersweet smile appeared. “Alas, you never met her, so I am not sure that my ramblings are of much use.”

“It’s okay,” Theo said, a familiar ache settling within her ribs. “I get it. I miss my family when I don’t feel well, too.”

Thor hummed quietly, nodding to himself.

“She would have liked you—” He remarked, almost absentmindedly. “—Frigga, that is.”

“From what Loki tells me, she sounded like an amazing woman.”

“Indeed…” Thor sighed — a heavy, weary sigh — then brought his focus back to Theo. “Forgive me, my lady. I should let you go.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you updated on how Loki’s doing, but really— feel free to call or text if you need me or have questions.”

It only took three more assurances that Theo was happy to help and that Thor could contact her any time if he had questions before Theo was able to end the call with Thor and return to her chair beside Loki. 

She understood Thor’s anxieties; if Mémère or Max were sick or injured and Theo couldn’t be there, she’d be downright inconsolable. Mémère had been her rock for most of her life, and though she and Max often gave each other headaches, they had been through so much together that not even an apocalypse could tear them apart. For better or worse, they were the family she had left — she lost everyone else.

And though it had been years since they last saw each other, Theo still missed her sister more than anyone else whenever she got sick.

You gave it to me, I remember it read And you’ve got the world coming down on your head There’s nothing to fight for, it’s already dead And this is the world coming down on your head

Nights spent in a hospital were nothing new.

Working in Emergency Medicine, nights were a standard part of the role — just like working holidays, weekends, and any other time any sane person would prefer to be out living their best life. Even in its quietest hour, the ED never offered a truly dull moment; if anything, nights were just as busy as days, if not even more busy.

Nights in the ED weren’t the only nights Theo had spent in the hospital, though. When Katie was born, Theo spent the night with Max and Ellie, coaching Ellie to push and watching her vitals like a hawk. Once, Mémère had to have a small surgery, and Theo spent the entire night trying to keep the stubborn old woman from getting up on her own and setting off the bed alarm. And of course, there were the times Theo’s asthma had gotten the best of her, and Theo spent the night alternating between nebulizers and oxygen, constantly waking herself up with coughing.

All of that to say, Theo was used to nights in the hospital where things weren’t so… quiet. 

Outside, the world was asleep; the night seemed never-ending, shadows of skyscrapers outside the window stretching out toward the horizon. But In Loki’s room, time felt suspended. A soft glow emitted from the bedside monitor, matched by the pale moonlight filtering in through the window. The light in the hallway shone beneath the door, accompanied by the occasional nurse's footsteps; however, it did little to illuminate the room. 

It wasn’t long after talking to Thor and Theo had returned to her place at Loki’s side that her attention shifted to studying the various devices that Loki was connected to.

Due to the severity of shock and the monitoring required for treatment, Theo was not at all surprised to see the central line in his neck, the collection of catheters trailing from IV pumps beneath the blankets to various parts of his body, and the arterial line in his wrist, which had been splinted to prevent any kinks in the tubing. Nor was she surprised by the clear oxygen cannula running beneath his nose, ECG sensors peeking out from beneath his hospital gown to monitor his heart, or the mountain of blankets covering most of his body, likely fresh from the blanket warmer to counteract the chill that came from spending hours in the operating room.

In a strange way, Theo was almost grateful that she was the one with Loki. Given Thor’s reaction to the phone call and the video chat, seeing Loki in person, with all the tubes and wires, was practically a guarantee that all of New York would be subjected to brutal storms as the God of Thunder veritably freaked out…

Theo, at least, understood the procedures, the diagnostics, the nursing interventions; she did not have fear of the unknown exacerbating her concern for her friend.

… Not that Theo was content to see Loki in such bad shape. Loki was a fucking God; it wasn’t even supposed to be possible for him to be seriously injured. The Loki before Theo was a far cry from the wry, sharp-witted man whose strength carried her through her low moments. It just wasn’t right. 

As she ruminated on the circumstances, Theo watched Loki’s face, noting the faint, barely noticeable furrow between his brows. Even in sleep, he seemed like he was carrying something—perhaps the weight of the attack, or the effects of the surgery, or maybe something deeper, something Theo couldn’t understand. 

Every so often, Loki’s chest would rise and fall with a deeper breath, his face softening in sleep as if his discomfort slipped away completely. Each time, Theo prayed that peaceful expression would remain, only to be disappointed when the tension returned. 

After what felt like both a moment and a lifetime, Loki stirred, a small, soft groan escaping his lips as he shifted under the blankets. Theo leaned forward instinctively, her hand hovering near the side of the bed, ready to adjust the blanket or call for a nurse.

As if Loki sensed Theo’s presence, he tilted his head toward her, brows drawn together as he blinked slowly, trying to shake the hold of unconsciousness. 

“Hey,” Theo greeted him with a gentle smile. “How’re you feeling?”

A moment of silence passed before Loki’s attention turned towards Theo; he looked at her through cloudy eyes, though he did look a bit confused.

“Thor…?” Loki mumbled, blearily scanning the room for his brother. “Where’s Thor?”

He didn’t remember.

It was probably the anesthetic still working its way out of his system, but for a moment Theo wondered if his concussion was worse than initially thought.

“He’s on his way – he’s going to be here as soon as he can,” Theo replied, injecting as much comfort into her tone as she could. She slipped both her hands around his closest hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as she softly smiled at him. “How’re you feeling?”

“I—“ Loki frowned at Theo, searching within her eyes with an increasing panic for something unknown. “I— I don’t recall….”

“… What happened?” Theo finished the question for Loki; he replied with a small, hesitant nod. “There was an attack of shadow creatures on Times Square. We stopped it, but you were hurt—“

“—Is Thor alright?” Fear overwhelmed the question; before Theo could stop him, Loki tried to sit up, only to collapse back onto the bed with a sharp groan, eyes wrenched shut and face twisted in distress as he clutched his injured side. 

“Whoa whoa — Thor is safe!” Theo blurted out, eyes wide and her own heart racing in her chest. She swooped up from her chair and sat on the edge of the bed, lightly pressing down on Loki’s shoulders with just enough pressure so he’d focus on her without injuring him; she barely bit back the wince from the sudden pressure against her bruised hand.

“Thor—“

“Thor is safe,” Theo repeated firmly, locking eyes with Loki. "He was off-planet when it happened. He’s on his way back and will be here as soon as he can.”

After a beat, Loki relaxed slightly beneath her touch and his breathing calmed. Even though he still looked like he was pretty shaken up, at least he wasn’t about to try and bolt on her.

“You need to take it easy and stay in bed,” Theo continued, “You only got out of surgery a few hours ago; trying to move around too much will only aggravate your injuries.”

“… Why don’t I—”

“—Remember? It’s just the anesthesia from surgery wearing off,” Theo reassured, keeping her concerns about his concussion to herself. The last thing either of them needed was to freak Loki out any further. “It can make you temporarily forget things, but that’s normal; the memories will come back once it’s all out of your system.”

Loki closed his eyes; his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his jaw muscles tensing in anxious restraint.

“Hey,” Theo caught Loki’s attention once more by smoothing back his hair. With her other hand, she pried his non-braced hand away from his side, laying it next and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know it’s a lot to process, but you’re safe, Thor’s safe, and he’s going to be here soon. Until then, I’m going to stay with you, okay?”

Though the fear remained in Loki’s eyes, he let out a trembling breath and weakly nodded. 

The sound of the door opening drew both Theo and Loki’s attention, turning towards the entrance just in time for a nurse to walk in. She held a bag filled with clear liquid, labeled with details regarding the contents inside – one of the components Theo recognized as potent pain medicine. 

With a final squeeze of Loki’s hand, Theo released her grip and returned to her chair, giving the nurse space to work. Loki watched Theo, his lips pressed into a thin line and brows slightly pinched. If Theo didn’t know better, she’d have thought Loki seemed a bit upset that she let go. 

Then again, he wasn’t exactly feeling like himself, so maybe he was upset.

The nurse went through her routine questions while disconnecting an empty fluid bag with an identical label and replacing it with the fresh bag. Loki answered with short, wary replies — a sharp departure from his usual demeanor— but he correctly answered the questions meant to test his cognitive function, so that was a good thing. Once the new bag of fluids had been hooked up, the nurse ensured everything was in its proper place before departing. 

Once the door clicked shut, Theo turned back to Loki, who had returned to watching Theo with a guarded, yet dazed expression.

“You alright?”

”M’m quite alright,” Loki’s attempt to feign confidence failed, betrayed by his shaky inhale and quivering lower lip. “Why would I not be?”

“Waking up in the hospital can feel pretty overwhelming for anyone, especially if the person you want to have with you isn’t able to be there.” Theo offered what she hoped was a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s okay if you’re anxious or upset. You don’t have to put on a brave face.”

Loki exhaled sharply. “How long until Thor will be here?” His voice strained at the question, while the muscles in his jaw tensed even further.

“He thinks it’ll be two days before they’re back— But you won’t be alone — I’m going to stay with you until Thor’s back, okay?” She reminded Loki, hoping it would at least placate him for the moment. “Val’s flying out tomorrow morning and should be here in the afternoon as well.”

“Val’s coming?” Despite mumbling, his surprise came through crystal clear.

“Yeah,” Theo rested her other hand atop Loki’s, effectively enveloping his hand within hers. Though his palm had begun to absorb some of her warmth, the back of his hand remained frigid. “We‘ll both be here. And until Thor gets back, we can FaceTime him whenever you want.”

Within the cocoon of Theo’s touch, Loki‘s hand gradually shifted, turning until his fingers could slip themselves between Theo’s. The simple movement seemed like it took all of his effort; his attempt to squeeze Theo’s hand came off as little more than a twitch of his fingers. The tense muscles in his expression softened as his eyes drifted shut, and the rise and fall of his chest began to slow. 

Other than the occasional brush of her thumb across the side of his hand, Theo didn’t dare move until she knew Loki was well and truly asleep — he needed the rest in order to heal, and it seemed like he needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t be alone; having the presence of touch went a long way towards giving the comfort it seemed like he needed.

After a few minutes, the tension had evaporated from Loki’s expression; paired with his even, slow breaths, all signs pointed to Loki being well and truly asleep. 

By that point, the cold that originally plagued Loki had vanished, replaced by the warmth from Theo’s skin; the thought stirred a certain softness within Theo, bringing a small smile to her face.

She slipped her hands from Loki’s and reached up, lightly caressing his face with the back of her fingers in what was half a gesture of comfort, and half a temperature check; a similar chill lingered, but she could do something about that.

Theo silently rose to her feet. She crept over to the recliner where she set out the extra bedding, retrieving the blanket. As she unfolded the blanket, Theo paused for a moment, rubbing the pad of her thumb along the plush, charcoal-colored material. One side of the blanket was made of velour, while the other side was a thick, shaggy fleece, similar to a faux fur in length but different in texture — it was far softer than any faux fur Theo had seen. The combination gave the blanket a surprising heft to it, which was perfect for staving off any cold or chill.

Spreading the blanket across the bed, Theo remained careful not to wake Loki in the process. She pulled the fabric up around his neck and shoulders so only his head remained visible, then retrieved one of the hospital’s blankets from a nearby drawer and carefully draped it to create a sort of hood around his head.

For good measure, Theo snuck over to the room’s thermostat and cranked up the heat; even if it meant she’d be sweating, it was a small price to pay for Loki’s comfort. 

The final product was almost amusing: Loki, so fully tucked in beneath blankets that only his face remained visible amidst a sea of fleece. If someone were to quickly glance at him, they might not see the oxygen tubing that sat beneath his nose, which had become the only visible medical device because of how thoroughly he was covered up. Without being able to see the catheters, bandages, and monitors, he no longer looked like he barely survived; instead, he simply looked exhausted.

With nothing else to do, she slouched back in her chair, idly twirling the end of her braid with one hand as she stared off into nothing. The longer she sat, the harder she fought not to dwell on the glimpses of the handler that did this and then escaped…After all, she could let her imagination run away with possibilities, but nothing her mind could conjure would get her any closer to learning the truth. Besides, the vague familiarities were at best coincidences, and at worst tricks of her mind.

A faint grunt brought Theo back to the present. In his sleep, Loki grimaced, only for it to smooth out a moment later. 

Was he in pain, or dreaming?

Theo watched his expression for signs that might point her in one direction or another, but Loki’s stillness made her think that whatever it was, it must have passed. 

Left alone with her restless thoughts, Theo only made it a few minutes before she admitted to herself that if didn’t find something to prevent her from overanalyzing every little detail of what transpired, she was going to lose her mind. She needed a distraction.

In the stack of books Theo brought with her, one caught her eye: The Little Prince. A children’s book among high fantasies, dwarfed in size by the other books, and with a light, minimal design on the book’s spine that contrasted the ornate, dark artwork adorning the others, the French novella quite literally stood out in just about every way imaginable…

… And it was just what Theo wanted.

After extracting the text from beneath a stack of Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson, and Joe Abercrombie, Theo settled back into her seat, cast a charm to make what essentially was a book light, and opened the book to the first page.

The familiar illustrations of a snake wrapped around a mouse (preparing to swallow it), the outline of the snake that ate an elephant, and the drawing of the elephant inside the snake greeted Theo like an old friend, lamenting the lack of imagination and general disillusionment with adults.

Theo could practically recite the book from memory, having read it countless times throughout her life. Beyond serving as an effective distraction when Theo needed to redirect her thoughts, the book offered enough depth that she still found something new to ponder with each additional readthrough, but wasn’t so heavy that she had to set aside time to read, fully investing her attention and avoiding distractions so she didn’t miss crucial information.

That night, it was exactly what she needed.

When will it all end?  When will it all end? One of you moves,  the others follow you

Thor’s prediction about a long night did not come to fruition… At least, not because of Loki. 

Though Loki woke up a couple more times, it was because a nurse needed to complete a neuro check to make sure his concussion wasn’t worse than they initially believed. Every couple hours, they woke him up long enough to ask a few questions and have him perform a few tasks, but he always fell back asleep immediately after they finished. If he noticed Theo sitting there, he didn’t say or do anything.

Theo, however, remained wide awake the entire night, jumping at every slight rustle of blankets or unexpected noise from Loki, in case it was the start of another panic. Each time the nurses woke Loki, Theo caught herself white-knuckling as she tugged on her braid, bracing for the worst.

In between, Theo’s mind spun with questions about who could have done this to him, troubling her to the extent that even if Loki was perfectly content and doing well, Theo wouldn’t have slept a wink.

Not long after the first signs of dawn crested over the horizon, a text came from Wanda.

“Want coffee or breakfast?”

Theo nearly jumped out of her seat at the vibration of her phone, but the message (and the offer) were a pleasant surprise after a long night. If she had any hope of being productive or useful, she’d certainly need all the caffeine she could get. 

A couple hours later, visiting hours began; not even a minute later, Wanda arrived with a giant paper cup labeled ‘shot in the dark’ and a paper bag containing a scone for Theo, and a mug with the words ‘London Fog’ scribbled on the side for herself.

“You look exhausted,” Wanda remarked, handing Theo her drink and the brown paper bag containing the scone. “Did you sleep?”

Theo nearly laughed out loud, but clapped her hand over her mouth before the sound could escape. “That obvious, huh?”

“Explains why you wanted caffeine to go with your caffeine - seriously, drip coffee with multiple shots of espresso added in?” Wanda quietly teased as she set Theo’s unused pillow aside, then settled in on the couch. “Do you hate yourself?”

“It got me through med school and residency, and it’s going to get me through until Thor gets back,” Theo joked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sleep is for the weak.”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “Did he sleep?” She tilted her head towards Loki, who hadn’t stirred in the thirty minutes since the last neuro check.

Theo sighed. “More than I did, but I don’t know how restful it was. They had to wake him up every couple hours and do tests to make sure his concussion wasn’t worse than initially thought,” she said. “It didn’t help that he couldn’t remember what happened, so there were a couple times where he woke up and freaked out because Thor wasn’t there - we ended up FaceTiming Thor at one point because he was so freaked out. It hit a point where every time they came in to wake him up, I had Thor’s info pulled up in case we needed to call him.” 

“…So he kept you awake?”

“I knew that was a possibility when I agreed to be here,” Theo half-heartedly shrugged. “I don’t think I would have slept much anyway, though.”

Wanda frowned. “Why not?”

“A couple things happened yesterday,” Theo stole a glance at Loki, checking to make sure the conversation hadn’t woken him up. “Now’s not the time to talk about it, though”

Wanda’s gaze followed, pausing for a moment when it landed on Loki. She hummed, flecks of gold in her irises glittering as she narrowed her eyes. “Something with…?”

Yes. “Eh…” Theo shook her head. “…More the person who did this to him.” 

“It was a handler, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah—“ Theo drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, buying herself a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’ve seen plenty of shadow creatures, but I’ve never seen these people. And to have them appear twice in such a short time period…”

“Something bigger is at play,” Wanda concluded.

“Yeah, and if they can do this to a god,” Theo gestured at Loki, who slept like the dead, “what does that mean for the rest of us?”

I never thought I would wake up in bed Watching the world coming down on my head I’d sleep like a dog if you would never have said This is the world coming down on your head I’m not gonna swallow the lie that I’m fed ‘Cause I want the world coming down on my head I’m just gonna find out you’re already dead And I was the world coming down on your head…

——

Author’s note: oh hey, it has been *checks calendar* uh, a lot longer than I initially expected this to take! Thanks for your patience as I’ve continued to plug away on this story amidst a hectic year (for so many reasons). I work on this story pretty much every day, although I am not one to write in order so it’s not always working on the next chapter… All of this to say, even if I vanish for a while, it’s not for lack of inspiration! After three years of these two living rent-free in my head, I think they’re here for good, and I need to finish this story so help me god.  It’s just that life is busy and I’m squeezing in writing/making sure plot points line up whenever I can. I also spend more time than I probably should looking for the perfect songs for each chapter, since I want them not only to connect to the scenes themselves, but the larger narrative and have little Easter eggs/hints about what’s to come 😏

I’m not going to put a date on when the next chapter is coming since I think I’ve written and rewritten chunks of it about a dozen times (lol), but it is well underway and you can look forward to both Loki and Theo POV, as well as lots of Loki/Theo interactions (I feel like we haven’t gotten much of those lately, but I promise they’re coming!!). 

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts/reactions/comments! If you liked it, I’d appreciate it if you'd reblog and share — I am a small tumblr, so my reach is limited... oh! and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list (since I'm a hilariously inconsistent poster these days)

[impressive-imperfection]

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Every time I think I have a handle on life, life proves that I, in fact, know nothing about anything.

Still, I try.

My current goal is to manage my fibro flare well enough to start working out again. When I was in remission I lost 100 pounds and got healthier than I’d ever been and I was working out 5 days a week.

Granted my idea of working out is putting on my VR headset and slicing beats with my saber.

It was fun and I worked up a sweat…and I miss it.

(I never felt that way about a Stairmaster)

Unfortunately, stress quadrupled (as it does in life), and I started gaining weight here and there, but overall I was still okay.

Then more stress triggered a flare. As it worsened, I started experiencing headaches and migraines 24-48 hours after working out. So, I started spreading out the workouts to manage it…until I had to stop all together because on top of headaches, the fatigue kicked in and the migraines became more constant. Then came the joint & hand/wrists & feet/ankle pain.

So I haven’t been able to workout with any regularity, and I’ve gained more weight. The gravity of it all has caused an emotional roller coaster that’s dipping really close to Depression Land, which I have no interest in visiting.

Long story short, with my fibro diagnosis along with the ADHD/ASD diagnosis, I’m now on meds which help. The meds don’t take the pain away, but they take the edge off, so I’m trying to put exercise back in. The dopamine from exercise can help feed my ADHD brain, help lose the weight I’ve gained, and help keep me from stopping in Depression Land.

I did 15 mins of Beat Saber on Monday and so far the pain is manageable. I’ll see how I feel tomorrow and decide if I want to try another 15 mins or maybe switch it up and do some yoga.

What exercise can you manage while in flare?

[he-goes-down]

0. There Was A Time

fic chapters/warnings/disclaimers/ect

:DISCLAIMER:

Mentions of drugs/ sex ect.

English is not my first language

POV changes

x reader

inconsistent updates

time line is not perfect or accurate

Character may also not be accurate

I'll also be posting this on wattpad and maybe ao3

So if you see it wasn't stolen<3

Also i dont know how tumblr works and how to link chapters together(someone send help)

ALSO THIS NOT EDITED IN ANYWAY SO SORRY IF THERE ARE SPELLING MISTAKES

THANK YOU FOR READING MWUAH MWUAH

LEAVE COMMENTS <3

The studio was warm in the coldest night of this Autumn, warm yellowish light and the red carpeted floor made it feel like a cosy log cabin. A full drum set with a few too many ride cymbals and windchimes sat close to the middle of the fat bare bricked wall, with a small metal bucket that had the remains of broken splinter drumsticks. A rack of guitars and two bass holders stood next to the right wall where an old armchair sits, a few different sized amps scattered round the square room. Right in front of the glass that separates the control room from the studio three mic stand in a line with noise cancelling boxes surrounding each of them.

In the control room there is a strong smell of weed and other smokeable herbs, "No! You can't take Runaway Blues off the album!" A man with short shoulder length brown hair and a moustache protested as he puffed on his cigarette as he lied back on the couch, his dark glasses fell back on his face as he tilted his head back. "I agree with Jake. It shows how good we are even when we're shit faced." The man with long curly hair, a gorgeous ethnic nose, stood up – towering over the other 4 people in the sesh – and began to roll another blunt on one of the control panels. The one that started this debated piped in, "Thanks Dan for taking my side." He said sarcastically, his curly mullet was like a solid cloud on his head, and he has a moustache like Jake. "We'll our wonderful manager and producer here," A man that looked like Jesus pointed to a woman that sat next to Jake on the couch. "Was the one that wasn't shit faced, I think that's why it was actually good, Joshua." He finished. "Hey, hey, I'm not saying it's shit because of you, please believe me y/n!" Josh dramatically pleaded to y/n. She was looking up at the ceiling. Pupils dilated. Blunt in hand. "Just, make it shorter." She said confidently, waving her hand a bit. Still not looking at anyone and head craned back. "You have the answer to everything." Danny said his mouth slightly gaped that such a simple solution didn't register in any of their minds. Or he's just on a psychedelic trip and can't spark up a brain cell.

The following week the band had dates in LA since they were still doing there 'Dreams in Gold' Tour. The band was already at the venue setting up, some still sleeping in the bus. Y/n had some business to attend to in their studio in New York before going down to LA. She decided to walk down the infamous Sunset Strip, as a historic music place like this could not go untrekked when having the chance. Wearing a black turtleneck, dark blue flare jeans with dark brown boots and a satchel bag hanging from her shoulder, a small suitcase's handle in the other hand while the silver case dragged its wheels on the floor. As she caught the sight of the colourful sign of The Rainbow, a voice called to her. "Y/n?" A older man, short blondish hair, leather jacket, sunglasses.

Axl Rose.

And like the trigger of a gun being pulled,

A life was lost.

(or misplaced)

Y/n's POV:

Everything stood still,

I stood still.

Then it all went dark. It was a black lifeless void.

Falling backwards but being physically still.

Time was reversing.

A previous life. My life?

Memories rolling past like an old film.

My head spiralled.

I can't comprehend this. What is happening to me?

My first years of school, late 60's early 70's. That's not right. It was the early 2000's.

Falling in love with music, Queen, Elton John.

Highschool was trip. My parents being stricter than anyone else's, they didn't believe I could have a job as in the music industry.

Studying music in college then going on the Uni and taking a science course to get my folks off my back.

One of my most successful record deals was Mötley Crüe and Bon Jovi.

Before they even started writing lyrics for their songs, I knew it off by heart and helped them gain success with it and recording went like dream.

Now I was searching the East Coast for a new band to sign.

March 1985, The City of Angels.

A flash of light, and my eyes flickered open.

It a cold night, dark but the city light was somewhat comforting.

It was the Sunset Strip, but something was...

Off.

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

OMG SORRY IF IT'S SHIT

THIS WAS LIKE THE INTRODUCTION, FIRST PART IS COMING OUT SOON 

IM SO EXCITED

(Band at the beginning is greta van fleet )

[sleepyficss]

taco (ii) x reader headcanons? general headcanons would be nice, although if you could include ones involving reader having a cutesy girly gender presentation + having BPD and NPD that would be even better. please and thank you :3

taco, bpd & npd headcanons!

taco x reader, fluff

authors note:

as my first actual request, thank you so much!! the fact that its for taco, too <33 i don't have either bpd nor npd myself, but i will try my hardest to make it accurate!! + by general, i wasn't sure whether you meant romantic or not, so i left it up in the air. could be read as either.

- written as post-ii season 2 in mind (so don't blame me if she seems inaccurate in a few episodes time lolol)

- taco has struggled a lot with her own relationships over the last few years, so the fact that you've gotten this close with her? she must really trust you.

- she's honestly terrified of you leaving her, considering the number of people who have done exactly that in the past (although, it hadn't been unwarranted...)

- swears to do whatever she can to keep you from leaving her, especially since you might be one of the very few people she has left.

- because of this, she completely understands it when you're afraid of the possibility of abandonment – but you learn to work through it together.

- she loves to remind you of how much you mean to her, that she wouldn't want you to be any different than the way you currently are <3

- the last thing she wants is for you to feel that you aren't good enough, or to have bad self-images of yourself.

- makes SURE that you know her opinion of you is highly regarded, that she loves you for you, no matter if you've had a bad week.

- taco has definitely picked up on any micro-expressions, or usually unseen habits you have that reveal the way you're feeling; especially for times that you struggle more to show those emotions.

- in turn, she's learned how to keep her own emotions in check. taco is a very grounded person, and knows how to keep calm in most situations, and will often be the one to sort out difficult situations that involve either, or both, of you.

- of course, she has her own triggers that may set her off. as long as you're there to remind her that she has you, and that the past is the past, and it can't be changed, she'll calm down enough to listen to you.

- she's a very patient person, and takes pride in understanding other people easily.

- if you're ever having a difficult day, or particularly bad 'flare-ups', taco understands not to always take any harsh words you say to heart. most of the time, she knows you don't really mean them anyways.

- she'll always wait for you to have calmed down to talk things through with you. trying to talk while hot-headed will only make things worse, she of all people knows that.

- at the end of the week, though, all she wants to do is sit down with you and relax.

- whether thats having sort of a parallel-play with each other (where she'll often read a book, or do some sort of puzzle, while you do your own activities), or you'll simply talk to each other for hours, about anything and everything.

- she's almost clingy herself, wanting to spend most of her free time with you when there's nothing else to do.

- taco isn't the type to admit it, but she enjoys seeing the outfits you come up with, complimenting you any chance she gets.

- if you ask her for ideas (in terms of what you should wear, what colour you should do your nails, etc), she'll be at a bit of a loss. she won't be much help in that department, you're better off giving her a few options to choose from, first.

- i can imagine you'd be able to convince her to match a bowtie to your outfit, though. you two would be the cutest !!

- if either of you have days where you feel almost too tired to get out of bed, the other will be happy to join in setting up the couch with blankets and pillows, and turning the television on to a show that both of you enjoy.

- taco just wants a cosy life, now that she's put her past 'plans' way behind her, and would be happy to spend every day with you.

[a-polite-melody]

Lmao apparently I need to go on some rants today! Let’s go!

So. My lover has insinuated a couple times that maybe I should get a job. And just… I get why they are because it looks like it would solve all of my issues, and this isn’t me exactly ranting at the fact that they’ve given that suggestion, but that my mind has latched onto it so hard and I need to like. Sit down and actually get my head on straight about the whole thing and not just keep going back and forth with myself about “yes I should but no I can’t but yes I should but no I can’t…”

So here we go.

My partner lives in the UK and the plan is for me to immigrate to the UK. Just before my 6 month visit to the UK a year ago was up my partner lost their job. The UK recently bumped the amount needed to sponsor a fiancé immigrating up beyond what my partner was making even before losing their job. Maybe now that I’m back in Canada I should get a job here and sponsor them to come over here, especially since a year later they’re still on the job search.

But I can’t drive, and they can’t drive, and the UK has better infrastructure to support two people who can’t drive than Canada. And also that severely limits my options for employment because I live in a suburb with little employment opportunity within walking distance and an abysmal public transit. Which means even if I get a job it’ll probably only be making minimum wage, which may not be able to support sponsoring my partner coming over here.

And on top of that, even without the barriers to employment I’ve already mentioned, even just thinking about

just this is enough stress to trigger big HS flare ups which leave me in extreme pain which can only be minimized by keeping pressure off of the sores which often requires me to lay in bed all day and hardly move for up to a week, how am I going to handle the stress of a job and will I reliably be able to get time off to deal with this without risking that employment position in the first place?

I do not wear a bra or make up for sensory reasons. How well do you think a fat, C cup chested, braless, woman-looking-person without make up is going to do in getting hired out of the interview process?

just tracking my activities for the day and water consumption takes enough of my mental energy some days that it’s basically all I do and I’m exhausted anyway, how can I work a whole shift consistently?

But I mean. I’ve said all of this. But maybe I should do it anyway. I mean, it’s all I really can do in order to like… influence anything that I can have control over to help all of this come to an end.

[leasnewsletter]

6/1-2025

Dear whomsoever it may, or may not concern,

I thought my holiday was over. 'Twas not. I am writing this from the safety of my home, after we just spent almost 2 hours driving to the airport and back again. There and back again: by Lea Baggins. I just gave my cats dinner, and I'm trying to channel my inner Dua Lipa, who I am sure would be more than happy for a change to her travel plans (#radicaloptimism), and I really am, because I nearly cried when I left earlier, not feeling ready to leave yet, which is crazy because my holiday has been almost 3 weeks long. But...

Where do I begin? Like for so many others, home is complicated. I'll try and condense it a little. My parents divorced in 2020 (if you paid attention to my first entry, this lore has already been dropped), and it's been harder on my mum than my dad. She had just been diagnosed with stress at the time, and it's really been affecting her memory, which is deeply disturbing when it flares up. My dad was the breadwinner, because he's a pilot and he was away half the time and home the other half when we were kids, which meant that my mom had a part time job. My mom was not making nearly enough money to make ends meet post-divorce, and that meant going back to work before she was ready... which as you can imagine is not ideal... when you're diagnosed with stress. The divorce was for the better, but it's been hard to watch her struggle. I'm the oldest daughter and the need to fight all her battles is strong, but I don't always have all the tools to do so... and it makes me sad. My mother quit her job last year (this was good, they were fucking assholes), and is retraining to become a caretaker for senior citizens, who are entering their last stages of life. She's a champion. My mother is so strong, and I love her so deeply, even when it hurts.

Anyway, the reason we had to trauma dump there, is because three nights ago, I dreamt that she had heart problems of some sort (dreams, not very specific) and I kept urging her to sign up for a heart donation, but she kept just shaking me off... and it was so deeply disturbing for me, because I couldn't bear the thought of losing her, but it felt like she was just willing to go... and that just kinda set the tone for that day.

My mother, brother, and I went to see my grandparents on my dad's side that day, which is always an experience, because it can kinda go either way. You can laugh, or you can cry because your grandfather just triggered your eating disorder (#justgirlythings). My dad's youngest brother showed up, and we all just ended up making up theories about what happened to that lost Malaysian airplane... don't ask why.

The thing about my granddad is that we all spent our childhood being mostly terrified of him. He was a police officer, who had four sons, who I don't think always knew that he loved them, and a very explosive, toxic and turbulent relationship with my dad's biological mum, who none of us see anymore. Now however! He kinda old-fashioned and stuck in his way, but he loves a good debate... and that I can give him.

While I was trying to enjoy some time off before going back to London, the dream and the family gathering kinda meant I just didn't wanna talk about how I was feeling that day.

The next night I dreamt I was friends with Bella Hadid. So I totally could invite Bella Hadid to my party.

Yesterday was meant to be my last day, so I went to a nearby city to spend it with my sister, who I haven't actually seen nearly enough the past three weeks, so I again tried to make the most of the time I had left before going back.

She took me to see 'Better Man', which I had worked on... sometime between a year and 2 years ago, I think? (Time flies). At no point during that night shoot had anyone informed anyone that Robbie Williams would be a monkey, so I was deeply confused when the trailer was sprung on me, but man... that was a MOVIE. I don't know why I was surprised, but I was.

We had a really good day... and I really missed her, which feels crazy to say because she's right there, but we're all so bad at communicating our feelings, and sometimes I feel like my whole family are standing on different cliffs, and none of us can bridge the gaps because we're not saying what we really feel. I used to think I was good at saying how I felt, but I'm not so sure anymore.

Anyway, the dots are hopefully connecting for you, and you can sense why I would have big complicated feelings about leaving. Yay because staying at home with cats and family is great, nay because of problems I can't just solve.

COMPLETELY UNRELATED, BECAUSE I SIMPLY CANNOT TRAUMA DUMP FOR ANOTHER MOMENT WITHOUT DEPRESSING MYSELF FURTHER, SO HERE I THINGS I WOULD HAVE TWEETED IN THE PAST 24 HOURS, IF I STILL HAD TWITTER: - Sebastian Stan won a golden globe (!!!) and it's so well deserved. Truly one of the greatest working actors at the moment. - I woke up last night because Radagast (one of my cats, my best friend really) kept yapping, and then my brain started pitching a tiktok series about my cats, where I would dress up as them and then put words to the feelings they're very clearly (to me, anyway) expressing. - Why is everyone putting 'Dancing through life' on their happy montages as if that isn't a song about disassociating and being depressed?

Okay, guys I'm going to stop here, mostly because this was super depressing. Not even pretend tweets could make it funnier. Good news though, my friend sent me a screenshot of ClubChalamet's latest tweet, where she had found what is probably the only photo sans Kylie Jenner from the whole night. She is such a dedicated hater, I must respect it. Looking at the length of this, I won't edit it until tomorrow, so read this unedited mess. Lots of Lea (Yes, this is what I initially typed, so we're sticking with it), Love.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass Chapter 3 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley - Elvis (2022)

Read More Here - Broken Glass Masterlist! 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Prompt: You are Dolores Cannava, a young Italian-American nurse desperate to make her own way in the world and break free of her dysfunctional mafia-connected family and traumatic past. Elvis Presley is just returning home from his two-year stint in the Army, looking more handsome than ever, but feeling the pressure to successfully find his way back to the stratospheric career he was forced to leave behind. In a twisted turn of fate, Elvis finds himself in the hospital where your paths cross. Forced to harbor his potentially career-ending secret and needing to escape a terrifying future in New York, you are pulled into his unusual world and must endure a begrudging fake relationship with Elvis in order to protect his reputation (and his life). 

TW: Sexual assault (not described in too much detail). Dissociation. Mentions of physical abuse. Coercion. The Colonel. Some historical inaccuracies.

Tags: Fake relationship. Slow burn. Angst. (Sort of) enemies to lovers. Hurt/Comfort.

Rating: R (but this story will eventually be Mature/NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)   ||     Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Happy Broken Glass Wednesday, y'all! 💔🥂❤️‍🩹 I'm going to try to put out a chapter a week on Wednesdays (we shall see if I can keep up lol). Thank you for your lovely responses to Chapter 2 and I'm so glad people are finding the premise and E's health to be as fascinating as I do!

Please read the trigger warnings for this chapter. While not super graphic or in detail, this chapter delves into some dark things related to both sexual and physical assaults that are the catalysts for Dolores' decisions going forward and could definitely be triggering to some readers. It's not the whole chapter by any means--the actual moment is very short, but it is referenced in her desperation to forget what has happened to her and to escape her situation.

As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance! 

I imagined it with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat.

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

I’ve used the tag list from Pink Scarf, and added those who requested it, so please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Story is cross-posted to my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those reading experiences! 

Usually, the subway threatens to rock you to sleep after your night shifts. It is rather quiet in comparison to the trains headed into Manhattan, filled to the brim with workers of all kinds who are headed in from the boroughs. A bonus of working nights has been the less crowded and frenzied rides as you are heading out of the city while everyone else is going in. But this morning, every time you close your eyes, those brilliant yet stormy sapphires stare back at you with amusement. You can’t even focus on the book you’ve brought without your mind wandering back to the strange encounter with Elvis, wondering why he’d chosen you of all people to bother.

Heat flares through you again at how maddening he was in such a short amount of time, but you are self-aware to recognize that while the heat is mostly frustration at his actions and the repercussions they caused you, it also speaks the tiniest bit of how his pointed, beautiful gaze made you feel a little off kilter. You are annoyed that you can’t seem to forget how lovely he looked asleep in the bed.

Not asleep. Unconscious.

And that reminder strikes dread in your heart. The words in his chart (which I shouldn’t have looked at in the first place) make you feel uneasy because this secret is likely to cause untold repercussions if discovered. Considering the fervor surrounding his draft into the Army, you can only imagine the emotions of the female populace if they learn the truth about their beloved idol’s health.

You shift in your seat uncomfortably, the weight of your knowledge an unwelcome pressure on your psyche. It’s your own fault of course. But the empathy that serves you well in the hospital also has you feeling sad for the poor man, despite your annoyance. You may not be a fan, but you can’t deny the man’s talent and impact on the world. Thousands, millions even, will be devastated when…

No. It’s none of your business. You shouldn’t even know who the VIP is, much less be worrying about the man’s future. You have much more pressing things to worry about.

Those worries take hold with each step towards the house where you live. It’s certainly not a home, not anymore, and hasn’t been for a very, very long time. Your mother’s untimely death assured that.

Part of the excitement of getting into nursing school, even one as close as Bellevue, was that you were required to live in the dormitory. Four whole years in a tiny closet of a room, clad with only a single bed and a tiny desk and a small sink. For many of the girls it was torture but for you it was sweet relief. Peace. Safety.

But the day after graduation, you’d been forced right back into the viper’s nest, unable to find a place to share with anyone else, certainly not before you’d secured the job you now are desperate to hang onto, the one thing that will hopefully secure that freedom for you.

A heaviness settles over you the moment you hit the doorway and you say a silent prayer that you are late enough to have missed breakfast. Another bonus to nights is the fact that you have a viable excuse to not interact with your volatile father, Pop, because he, along with your younger brothers, are often gone by the time you trudge through the door.

But said door is unlocked, a sure sign that you’re too early and the dread you’d felt on the train about a man you barely know is nothing compared to the fear that settles in your stomach at the sounds of breakfast in the dining room.

You tiptoe down the hall in an attempt to remain unseen, your breath held as though it will somehow make you invisible. It’s only two big steps past the open door of the dining room but those steps might as well be a ravine. You make a break for it all the same.

“Dolores!” Pop’s voice sends you ramrod straight, but the tone of it is not the usual gruffness and distain. No, this is the voice for company, the one that covers all the dirty little secrets that permeate the walls of this house.

“Look who stopped by! Aren’t you glad to see our old friend?” Pop says in that saccharine voice.

You pull your gaze up and right into the black eyes of another man you don’t want to see but have to act as though you do.

“Hello, Gianni,” you force out of your mouth as neutrally as possible, but you grip your purse tight enough that your knuckles turn white.

“My beautiful Dolores! It’s been too long, bella,” Gianni coos at you, rounding the table to press an unwanted kiss to your cheek. He lingers too long, his hands like heavy weights on your biceps. Every ounce of you wants to push the snake away but you cannot, not here in front of Pop and your brothers. Gianni is too important in the community and disrespecting him would have consequences.

“You are a hard woman to get ahold of, Lori,” he purrs in your ear, using the nickname that is reserved for close relations and friends. This angers you but you are tired and weary and correcting him would only spell trouble.

“I was just telling Gianni how that hospital is working you to the bone, keeping you up nights, and that’s why you haven’t returned his calls,” Pop says pointedly, the clear message underneath being “Why the hell haven’t you called him back?”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You hadn’t called him back because you are avoiding him like the plague. Because you know he’s going to ask you out on a date and the result will be him asking you a question you do not want to answer.

Gianni has had his sights set on you since you’d hit puberty. Thankfully your youth saved you, as the seven years between you two was a great enough span that even your father did not approve of it in those early years. Then, nursing school kept you out of the fray, beyond a few well-chaperoned dates.  But now that you’ve come of age and are back home, you’ve felt the crawl of him under your skin, getting closer and closer.

The fact that he wants you at all is crazy. Gianni’s father Salvatore is one of the “pillars of the community,” the Consigliere—the right-hand man of the boss of this crime family. He’s one of the most important figures in this dysfunctional community you live in. Being a woman, you aren’t supposed to know any details, of course, but it is impossible not to know at least some of what goes on in the famiglia. Especially when your father has been coming home covered in blood and bruises and smelling of gunpowder since you were a small child.

You aren’t supposed to know your father is a soldier, a violent underling sent to do all the dirty work for the boss. It’s hard to deny, though, since his temper and aggressiveness are never just left at “work.” Unfortunately for you, Pop’s somewhat lower position in the hierarchy has not disqualified you from being courted by Gianni; in fact, with approval from his father and the boss, Gianni has every right to pursue you.

However, to the dismay of all parties, you do not want to be pursued. Not by Gianni. He is handsome with his dark hair and olive skin, yes, but ruthless, set to devour anything in his path. He wants to possess you. Own you.

His near-black eyes shine with it even now, this need of his to collect what he believes is his due. You are well aware that he has intentions to marry you—the beauty and intelligence you inherited from your mother has seen to that. And since it’ll raise Pop’s stature in the famiglia, he has been pushing you towards Gianni one way or another since Gianni took an interest. Only your mother had been hesitant, but when she died, all hope was lost.

An arranged marriage in a modern world.

So, no, you haven’t returned Gianni’s calls because once you do, he’ll take you out and then he will propose, and you’ll be expected to accept. That has been made crystal clear by your father. Once that happens your life is over. Nursing will be over. Any independence you’ve gained will be gone, and you’ll be shackled for eternity to another cruel man and forced to bear his children and look pretty and happy while you do it.

Which means the fact that Gianni is here, now, is very bad news indeed.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy with so many shifts. The new nurses get nights,” you say, as though you didn’t love the night shift.

“Of course, of course,” he tuts, “which is why I am here to take you to breakfast.”

It is not a question.

Your heart drops so quickly it makes your stomach queasy, like you are on a roller coaster you cannot get off. The trapped feeling has panic swelling in your throat. Pop looks at you expectantly, with both warning and excitement flashing on his face.

You cannot refuse the invitation.

“I-I’m a mess, Gianni, and I haven’t slept,” you sputter out in a last-ditch effort to escape this.

The way his hand trails down your arm to grasp your hand makes your skin itch and you resist the urge to yank away from his grip. “You have to eat, bella. Go fix yourself up real quick, I’ll wait. And I’ll have you home at a decent hour,” he finishes with a wink.

You don’t trust yourself to speak because the bile rising behind your panic threatens to give your feelings away. Instead, you just nod and smile before heading up the narrow stairs to your room.

A quick change into a nicer dress, along with a wash-up and unpinning your hair is all it takes to make yourself presentable, but you find yourself stalling for as long as possible. You wish you could be tittering with the excitement that every woman deserves when they get engaged, but Gianni is a man you do not and will not ever love. You can barely stand to be in his presence, much less marry the man.

The walk down the stairs is more like marching to your funeral rather than a date. You manage to plaster a half-pleasant look on your face, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.  

Gianni is the picture of patience standing next to your father in the foyer in his expensive suit, reeking of Acqua di Parma cologne. It makes you nauseous.

“Oooh, Lori’s going on a date!” your youngest brother Paul teases as you walk by him. This sad spectacle has gathered a crowd of your 18-year-old twin brothers, Tony and John, and 16-year-old Paul.

“Stai zitto, and get outta here! Go get ready for school!” Pop hisses at the boys and they scatter, but not before Tony gives you a knowing look that only you catch. The glance is as full of trepidation as you are.

Pop practically pushes you into Gianni’s waiting arms with that deferential, schmoozing smile and betrayal boils in your blood. A father is supposed to protect his daughter, not serve her to the wolves on a silver platter.

But your betrayal is quickly replaced by repulsion when the heat of Gianni’s hand resting on your lower back bleeds through your dress. He leads you outside and into the back of the waiting car, then slides in next to you, too close. Ignoring the driver, he makes small talk on the way to the restaurant, one that should be closed at this hour, but for the son of the Consigliere, it is open and staffed, though you are the only customers.

You resist the urge to balk when he orders for you and are monumentally uncomfortable being alone with him like this. His predatory eyes are focused solely on your every movement, so you attempt to be the picture of congeniality, as your culture has trained you to be since birth: pleasant, polite, demure. Underneath the façade, your heart pounds against your ribcage because you are unable to stop the collision you know is coming.

Barely able to eat the food in front of you, you resort to tiny bites and pushing the rest around the plate as inconspicuously as possible.

“You don’t need to be nervous, bella,” he states, seeming almost amused by your anxiousness. He flicks his wrist and the waiter appears out of nowhere to clear the plates. “And I know you are tired from slaving away all night at that hospital, but soon you won’t need to worry about any of that.”

The surety of that statement makes your stomach roll. Gianni pulls a small velvet box from the inside pocket of his coat and places it in front of you on the table. Your heart is a jackhammer against your sternum. You think you might pass out.

“My bella,” he purrs, getting up, then sliding into the booth next to you, trapping you in, “I think you know I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while now. Of course, I had to let you finish your schooling, let you grow up into the lovely woman you are now…”

Let me? you bristle internally, as if it were ever up to him, as if you ever needed his permission in the first place.

“But now it is time to let me take care of you and give you the life you deserve,” he finishes, opening the box in front of you to reveal a ridiculously large and gaudy diamond ring.

You are frozen, wanting so badly to tell him where to shove his ring and flee as fast and as far as possible. But instead, you can’t seem to move to stop Gianni from grabbing your shaking hand and placing it upon your trembling ring finger.

“Be my wife,” he says.

A command, not a question. One to which you don’t respond. Gianni takes your silence as acceptance, however, taking the single tear that spills down your cheek as one of happiness and not distress. He brushes it off your face with the backs of his fingers and you want to flinch, scream, anything that will tear you away from this union, but all you do is give him a tight smile and try not to sob outright.

Fight, goddamnit! your mind screams. But you can’t. You are imprisoned in your fear and despair, trapped by propriety, shackled by the responsibility to your family, to your brothers. Because a refusal would blow back on them as much as it would on you.

So, you don’t pull away when Gianni’s hand grips your chin or when he presses a kiss onto your lips. You’ve only been kissed once, by the boy who took you to the prom. You’ve been far too busy to date these past few years, much less kiss anyone, but at least that experience was enjoyable and coupled with butterflies. This kiss is devoid of anything other than a feeling of disgust. It seems to mark you as his possession, his cold lips making your stomach turn once again.

The rest is a blur as he brings you home, inviting himself inside. For once, you wish your father was home because the hungry look in Gianni’s eyes promises nothing good for you as he walks in behind you, into the too-silent house.

You fumble for the right words, the words that will make him leave so you can mourn the loss of your freedom in peace, but once he realizes the house is empty, he turns to you and pushes you into the wall. He is much taller than you, his muscular limbs so much stronger than your flailing ones as he pens you in.

The next kiss is hard and rough, all teeth and tongue. You press your arms against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but it does nothing but urge him on. Dizzy from the effort and drowning in the heaviness of his cologne, you barely make a dent in defending yourself against the assault of his lips on yours.

“Gianni, stop,” you finally breathe out, but he seems to take this as encouragement, nuzzling into your neck, his lips pulling and nipping at your skin. You can’t find the strength to push him off, to scream, to do anything other than whimper while his hands grope and wander places on your body that no man’s have gone before.

You pray for it to end. And when he grabs your hand and forces it down, down, down to feel the hardened length in his slacks, you go far, far away. You disappear into the same fog that takes you every time Pop goes ballistic, only realizing the truth of what happened when you come back into yourself later, feeling the pain of the bruises on your ribs, or seeing them on Mama, back when she was still alive to take them for you.

So, it shouldn’t be a surprise when you wake up much later in your bed, on top of the covers, your clothes in disarray. It’s not until you register the heaviness on your ring finger that you remember your engagement and the feel of Gianni’s meaty hands on you.

Barely making it across the hall to the bathroom, you vomit up what little you managed to eat for breakfast at the restaurant. Once the heaving stops, the shaking begins.

But you do not cry.

Rinsing out your mouth and splashing water on your face, you don’t, no, can’t, think about what may have happened once you faded away. You push away the thoughts of why your body feels sore and bruised in places it shouldn’t and why you can still smell the stink of his expensive cologne lingering on your dress and your skin.

No, no, no.

Disorientation makes you blink slowly as you come back into yourself and into the present, and you make your way back into your room. Your eye catches the clock and suddenly you feel wide awake.

Dammit!

You slept too long and are close to missing your train into the city for work, which today starts earlier than normal due to the fact you stupidly agreed to cover the end of your friend Sally’s shift so she could go on a date.

There is no time, then, to linger in despair. You race to rip off your dress and throw on a clean uniform, one thankfully already pressed and ready to go, pushing away the dark thoughts threatening to consume you. A pass of a comb through your messy locks and a few pins help you look somewhat put together and you slip on your white shoes, grabbing your bag.

The sparkling on your finger makes you pause long enough to tear the ring from your hand and throw it onto your vanity. If anyone asks, you don’t want to wear a ring like that into the city.

Flying down the stairs, you avoid the questions budding in Pop’s mouth with a “I’m late!” as you rush out the door. By the time you reach the station, you are breathless, but are just in time to make your train.

Exhaustion weighs on you as the adrenaline in your blood wanes. You slept today, but do not feel rested, and you pretend you don’t know why that is. It’s the last thing you want to think about.

Engaged. I’m engaged. To a monster. And he hurt me.

Your breath hitches in time with the rocking of the train, panic creeping its way back in.

No. Not now.

The urge to climb out of your skin, or at least scrub it raw under the locker room showers at work, must wait. You are grateful that you have to hit the ground running as soon as you step through the front doors of the bustling hospital. One emergency leads into the next and you barely have time to think past the next crisis, much less worry about what happened earlier today or the terror your future holds once you leave this hospital tomorrow morning.

“Nurse Cannava!” Nurse Hunt calls for you, her voice dropping once you approach, “Dr. Paulson is in with our VIP patient, and he is needed urgently. Go get him for me, and don’t get distracted by our patient this time, will you?”

“Yes, Nurse Hunt,” you say quickly, the dig not even bothering you. You’d take a lifetime of them in lieu of what waits for you outside this hospital. Fingers tittering nervously, you find yourself hoping that Elvis does not blame you for what happened last night. Though the way this day is going, you wouldn’t be surprised to find him combative towards you. And perhaps you deserve it after the way you treated him (even if he was being an ass).

The scene you are met with when you arrive at Elvis’ room is not what you are expecting, however.

“L-L-Little bird,” Elvis stutters, but it is not with the air of confidence he exuded last night. It is not aloofness or displeasure.

Your annoyance at the nickname, along with the smallest bit of relief that he is up and talking, quickly turns to apprehension. Much to your confusion, Elvis seems almost reverent as he stares at you, like you’d descended from the heavens or something.

Must be the head injury, you think, trying to make sense of him.

The other three men crammed into the tiny room all turn to stare at you at once, eyes wandering over you far longer than necessary, as though you are both interrupting something important yet are expected at the same time.

Why in God’s name are they all looking at me like that?

Elvis’ churning oceanic eyes lock onto yours and are loaded with such emotion that you can’t begin to sort through it, and you have to tear your gaze away. You manage to sputter out Nurse Hunt’s request to the doctor and instead of replying, the lot of them turn to Elvis, as though he has any say in it.

The silence sits heavy, and Elvis’ pale cheeks turn a little pink, almost bashfully, as you look at him again. He stares at you in an unreadable way, as though taking in every bit of you, as though seeing you for the first time. Confusion rushes over you in a self-conscious wave.

Have I done something wrong? Is this about snapping at him last night?

You shift uncomfortably, trying to piece together what is going on. But with everything that has happened in the last 24 hours, your brain can’t seem to put anything together other than that this group of men have lost their minds.

“I’ll be right there, Nurse,” Dr. Paulson finally states, looking back at you almost regretfully but you don’t take the time to try and figure out why. You are just grateful to be dismissed and leave the strange scene. In fact, with one crisis after another on the ward this shift, you put it out of your mind completely.

Until Dr. Paulson pulls you aside in the early morning hours, that is.

The doctor looks uncomfortable, his face in a grimace, when he leads you into a quiet corner.

Oh, Madone, I’m going to be fired. As if this day can get any worse. Your heart pounds and you fight back the tears that prickle behind your eyes.

“Nurse Cannava, I know this is going to be unorthodox…” he begins, and suddenly your mind jumps to another, equally disturbing place. The man is wearing a wedding ring, for God’s sake. And is old enough to be your father. You’d never taken the doctor to be that kind of man, but he interrupts your thoughts by continuing, “…but are you interested in private nursing?”

Now that is not what you were expecting. Relief floods through you, followed quickly by bewilderment.

“Excuse me, Doctor, private nursing? What do you mean?”

“Well, um, you see, Mr. Presley is going to need some discreet and rather specific care going forward,” he whispers, “and it seems as though you, um, fit the bill, so to speak, to take care of him exclusively.”

You fight to hold back the laugh that wants to escape your mouth at the pure absurdity of the situation. Elvis wants you of all people, the nurse who nearly took his head off last night, who sent him into respiratory distress, to take care of him exclusively? A day ago, you would have told him to shove his offer where the sun don’t shine.

But things have changed dramatically for you in the last day.

“I know it sounds strange, and certainly you’ve done great work here, but might you be willing to discuss this with his manager?

You cross your arms and worry your lip in between your teeth. The words fall out of your mouth before you can think too much on it.

“Yes, I’ll speak to him.”

Dr. Paulson sighs and nods, walking you down the corridor to a small waiting room. Your heart pounds in your ears as you are led inside.

“Colonel Parker, this is Nurse Cannava,” Dr. Paulson says, in a bristled tone that insinuates he doesn’t particularly care for the portly, balding man standing near the window you assume is Elvis’ manager. Colonel Parker turns to you, and you immediately get the sense the man is not to be trusted. Being around criminals who pretend they aren’t ones your whole life has given you a sixth sense for this sort of thing.

“Ah, Nurse Cannava, how lovely to meet you. We have much to discuss. I’m Colonel Tom Parker, Elvis’ manager.” Colonel Parker motions for you to sit in the chair across from him. He attempts to wave off Dr. Paulson, but the doctor does not go, choosing to stand in the doorway instead, seemingly wary to leave you alone with this stranger, and for that you are silently appreciative.

“And of course, this conversation must remain completely private, no matter what you decide. I’m sure a smart girl like you can understand the sensitivity of the situation,” he continues, leaning back in his chair, his casual position in direct contrast of his words.

“Of course,” you nod.

“Good. Now I’ll get right to it. After speaking with your supervisor, I know you are already aware that Elvis is quite…unwell.”

An understatement, to say the least.

“Yet I’m sure you also know how important Elvis is to so many people like yourself. Are you a fan, Miss Cannava?” he asks suddenly.

“Um, not especially, Mr. Parker,” but you rush to add, “It’s not as though I dislike his music, I’m just not one of those girls who, uh, fawns over him, sir.” You try and remain as neutral as possible because you get the feeling this question is some sort of test.

“Hmm,” is all he gives you in response. He looks you up and down with a careful beady eye and you resist squirming in your seat. Instead, you straighten your spine and lift your chin, your only tell being the way you tightly grasp your hands in your lap. His look is not a leer so much as an assessment as he takes in every inch of you.

After a moment he nods—you seem to have passed muster.

“This is an incredibly unique situation, my girl, which I’m sure you can appreciate. Elvis needs discreet, around-the-clock care, according to Dr. Paulson here,” he says with distain, “but we can’t have the world knowing that Elvis is ill. It would do irreparable harm to both his career and his fans.”

He is talking as if Elvis will have a career with his diagnosis, you think in surprise.

Colonel Parker must read this on your face. “You must understand, he loves his work, my dear, and nothing will keep him from it. Or his fans. Which is where you come in.”

“I assume I would just be there to take care of Elvis when he needs it, and to make sure he takes his medications and such?” you say.

“Well, it’ll be much more involved than that, my dear.”

You look at Dr. Paulson, who’s mouth is set in a line, as though he’s attempting not to add something to that statement.

“What do you mean, involved?” you ask.

“Firstly, you will need to live and travel with him,” he starts.

You nod. You figured as much, which is honestly why you are even considering this in the first place.

“But you see, no one can know you are his nurse. Elvis must appear, for all intents and purposes, the picture of health.”

Narrowing your eyes, you ask, “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I’m understanding, sir. How am I supposed to live and travel with the man to administer medical care without anyone knowing?”

Colonel Parker looks at Dr. Paulson, and then at you, a strange smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’ll be his girlfriend, of course.”

You choke at that. You can’t have heard him correctly. “Excuse me? I’ll be his what?”

“You will play the roleof his doting girlfriend, while secretly being his nurse. It was love at first sight, you see. Our handsome soldier comes to from a simple bump on the head and falls instantly in love with a beautiful young nurse, sweeping her right off her feet and into his life. Quite the storybook fairytale, wouldn’t you say?” he smiles that shifty smile.

Your heart flutters as fast as a hummingbird’s. “You…you can’t be serious. I—he—” you stutter.

“Oh, I couldn’t be more serious,” he says, the smile falling from his face. “I’ve been told this situation is life and death, my dear, and Elvis needs someone like you to help keep him alive.”

Silence falls and you can’t help but gape. But your mind whirls with the possible implications and how they might get you out of your current situation. If you weren’t desperate, you’d laugh in this man’s face, but your situation, and Elvis’ for that matter, are both quite dire.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Of course, you would be extremely well compensated for your trouble. That’s in addition to room and board, since you will be staying with Elvis. But you will have to leave your current life behind to sell your relationship both to the public at large and to both his and your friends and families for this to work,” he adds.

It’s completely, utterly insane. You don’t even like Elvis, so you’re not sure how you’re supposed to pretend to be in love with him, while at the same time having to secretly tend to his medical needs. You can’t in your right mind see how this will work. You are no actress.

But that fraught voice in your head is thinking about your survival, about that engagement ring sitting on your vanity and the expectations that go with it. About what has already been taken from you because of it. You push those thoughts as far back as they will go, but the fear remains because you know that if you stay, any scrap of independence you have will be gone, and you will live the rest of your life with a horrible snake of a man.

You’ve been wrestling with a way to escape since Gianni put that ring on your finger, claiming you as his, against your will. But as a single woman with hardly any money and nowhere to go, your options to run are limited. And if you run, with the resources of the famiglia, you know you would be found quickly and your punishment would be painful, if not deadly.

But with Elvis, you’d be cared for—you’d have money, you’d be travelling, and you assume that with his fame, Elvis has a wealth of protection at his disposal. As long as you are close to him, and with the relationship being so public, you realize Elvis might be the only one who can protect you from Gianni and your father.

They wouldn’t dare do something to me if I’m Elvis Presley’s girlfriend. They won’t be able to touch me.

You choose not to think too much on how you still would be giving up some of your freedom. How you will still be tied to and at the mercy of a man. You don’t think about how long you might need to keep up this act and what might happen if you decide to leave. No, all you know is that as much as Elvis might annoy you, he seems like a decent man. He does not seem the type to hurt you, and you’ll be his employee, not his true girlfriend, anyway. You will still be nursing and earning money while doing so.

I can figure out the rest later.

“Perhaps it is asking too much. I know not every woman would be up for the task—”

“I’ll do it,” you interrupt Colonel Parker.

His eyes widen with surprise, which you get the impression is hard to do with this man. “You will?”

“As long as Elvis approves and that we have a contract with established rules and such. I think I’m safe in assuming I won’t be required to, well, beyond playing it up in front of others I won’t be required to…to do anything untoward,” you say, not being able to keep yourself from blushing at the implication.

“Of course not, of course not, my dear!” Colonel Parker hurries to say once he picks up on your meaning. “It’ll all be on the up and up and respectable. We would never ask you to compromise yourself like that.”

You nod, trying to still your shaking hands. You don’t trust Colonel Parker as a person, but if there is a legal contract, he can’t force you to do anything you don’t agree to.

“Then I will do it. When do I start?” You hope it’s as soon as possible. Frankly, you’d leave this hospital with the lot of them right now if it meant you didn’t have to go back to that house again.

The smile that spreads across his face unnerves you but does not scare you. Not like the other men in your life.

“Excellent, my dear. I will get that contract set up for you immediately, while Dr. Paulson apprises you of your medical duties. You’ll begin as soon as you sign on the dotted line,” he says. “Then we will get you in with Elvis. You both will have a lot to talk about, I am sure.”

You gulp and your heart flips in your chest. Part of you fears all the things you don’t know about what you are walking into: about Elvis, his lifestyle, and what you will have to do to convince the world you are Elvis Presley’s girlfriend. But it will all be worth it if you can get away from marrying Gianni or staying with your father.

Mother Mary, they will be furious.

But by then you’ll be long gone, safely tucked away by Elvis’ side.

And, strangely, that gives you more comfort than you could have ever hoped for.

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy  @amiets2  @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals  

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood 

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva 

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @elvisgf @misspresley

Reblogs, likes, comments, tips + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

[v3nusxsky]

⚡Hello there!👋⚡

How are you doing today darling?

I hope you are fine and if not, here some love and sparkles: 💖✨♥️✨💖✨♥️💞✨✨❤️💖✨💞💕

I was wondering if I could request a Lady Lesso x f!reader. With reader looking a lot like Rafal which makes Leo unsettled and angry (as she thinks r is just like him and isn't as sweet as she pretends). So Lesso acts mean and cold towards r who just trying to be nice causing her to lose it and just yell at her that she is a jerk and confessing in the process her feelings for her along with how self-conscious she is about her appearance. So something angsty but fluffy at the end

Sorry for the long request, it's always a good moment whenever I see you published something. Your works is amazing! 💕

Have a good evening/night/day/afternoon!!

Lots of love ❤️

-🌙✨

Him| Angst/H&C

*Authors note~ you all know I had to hit this with some *personal* daddy issues of my own. My lovely moon anon I hope this fore fills the request*

Trigger warnings~ daddy issues? Idk man angst is real here

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

You were not surprised when you landed in the school for evil. I mean look at your sperm donor, it all made sense that your bloodline would lead you here. But if there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was being the polar opposite to him. It was something you'd made sure of, anytime you were related to him you'd feel so disappointed in yourself. Just because he gave you half your DNA didn't mean you had to be like him. You were you. You are own person and he wasn't taking that away from you. Or was he?

You were just you, no pretending to be anyone you weren't, yet the Dean of the school seemed to hate you. She was unnecessarily harsh to you, her anger flared at you and for some reason no matter how hard you tried to be good - a weird concept for a never- she seemed to find ways to pick at you. It was borderline ridiculous at this point. You'd seen more of the Doom room than your own dorm, and it was starting to wear on your nerves. Your peers noticing the treatment and teasing you on how you seemed to just piss her off that much. She hated you just by looking at you.

Truly, that hurt, you'd always been so insecure about your looks. You hated that you had most of your facial features in resemblance to him, you wished to look more like your mother. But you can't change that. So you worked on making yourself different to him. But here and now Leonora Lesso was making that extremely difficult, she was making you feel so many negative emotions that bottling them up wasn't an option. The final straw came when you were dragged to the Doom room for what felt like the hundredth time this week.

"You" she sneered as she came strutting forward towards you. "No you!" You roared wondering where the sudden burst of confidence came from. "I'm tired of this! What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so fucking much? Don't tell me you don't because this", you gestured around the room, "says otherwise  Lesso. So what the fuck is your problem" you finished off panting from the rant before you realised what had happened. You crouched down into a corner and sobbed, ignoring the other women as you were drawn into your own mind. Thoughts spiralling round your mind.

"Bad. Don't wanna be him. Fuck so stupid. Need to be better. Don't want to be him. Need to be me. Not him." You muttered over and over as you rocked yourself slightly. There in that moment Lesso saw her error, yet she didn't dare say anything. What if this was a trick? Just like he would do? She couldn't let her guard down yet. It was too much of a risk.

Some time later you'd managed to soothe yourself enough for you to stand up. "You know for someone who's so fucking gorgeous you can be a real asshole. I don't understand why I want you to like me so bad. It's clear you hate me, yet I seem to be drawn to you. It's frustrating. I mean I know I'm ugly, I know who I come from. I know I'm not the smartest or the meanest Never in the school. I know I have no real value to you but all I seem to want is for you to like me" you admitted with a slight blush. Truly you didn't understand why you were seeking her approval but you were.

"Rafal he is your father?" She muttered and you visibly cowered away. "Sperm donor yes, he's nothing to me" you made sure there was no room for arguments. "I know what he did Leo, he's a bastard for hurting you that way, the same way he hurt us" trailed off not realising what your just admitted to the older woman. "I'm nothing like him Leo, just give me a chance" you whimpered slightly the silence scaring you until she scooped you into a bone crushing hug. "I'm so so sorry sweetheart. Truly I never meant to hurt you I was just scared. I promise from now on a clean slate okay?" Causing you to nod into her shoulder, just soaking in the embrace she was offering.

Word count~ 924

[therealfailwhale]

Had my very first pain-related breakdown last night.

Backstory (hah): In 2020, after no glaringly obvious trigger, a spot in my lower spine felt like it cracked. I spent the next week on the floor. When I went to a chiro two weeks later, they suggested I sprained or tore a ligament. When I went to the doctor a week after that, they were clearly skeptical about the chiro’s disgnosis. After some tests and PT, they decided I had weak core muscles, sciatica, and scoliosis, and that was that.

I’ve had sporadic issues ever since, though never at the same level.

Yesterday, after a week of on and off debilitating back pain, I went to the doctor. When I woke up yesterday morning, my pain was at a 7. I didn’t go to work, stayed on a heating pad for hours, took ibuprofen. By the time I got to the doctor my pain had dropped to a 2-3. After talking to the doc and doing what felt like a shit job explaining my experiences, I was told I must have aggravated something because of my scoliosis (which was initially determined to be mild, btw) and to go home and take more ibuprofen, and maybe go see a PT. When I reiterated the fact that I’d been having pain at a 6 or 7, they offered a round of steroids and I went on my way.

My breakdown last night came because I feel like an imposter. I go to the doctor and feel as if they don’t believe the seriousness of what I’m telling them. At work, I try not to show when I’m in pain, which of course makes me feel as though I’m leading all my colleagues to believe I’m healthy and hale, so when I tell them I have back problems they don’t believe me (and maybe they do, but my brain feels like they don’t). When I have to miss work I feel like my boss and coworkers think I’m making a big deal out of nothing. And that’s just my brain projecting what is probably some childhood shit, but it doesn’t change that I don’t always believe in the reality of my own pain. I can’t stand or walk for more than an hour without hurting. I can no longer go on hikes with my fiance, can’t commit to shopping with her because who knows how long my back will hold up. If I sit too long in the wrong type of chair, I get a flare. All of these things are true, but I push myself because some part of me feels like, because other people perceive me as healthy, I can’t respect what I know are my limits. Otherwise they’ll think I’m, I don’t know, being weak or complaining too much.

My fiance is extremely conscientious about my pain. She constantly makes sure that I’m not pushing myself too hard, she makes sure I take pain meds. But even with her there’s a small part of me that feels the need to push through and be “normal.”

So yeah. Had a breakdown. Cried. Today I’ll start the round of steroids and go back to work. Carry on like normal, and strengthen my fucking core. Because that’s all that’s wrong with me after all.

[rampents]

| zendaya & she/her | Welcome to the crossroads, CATIE CATCHER. Another lost soul that stumbled across a fallen tree in their path. They appear to be 25 years old, but it’s hard to tell. The town bares no resemblance to LOS ANGELES, are you sure we can trust them? Seeing as they ended up here because, SHE WENT TRAVELLING TO GET AWAY. They definitely weren’t looking to end up here. Now they’ll have to rely on being CONFIDENT to survive. Hopefully their HOTHEADED doesn’t get in the way of that. I guess if we’re going to pass the time tonight, might as well request THE PHANTOM BUZZ by DECLAN MCKENNA. Oh, and one more thing, your new role here will be STORE CLERK. We’ll be sending out welcoming party over to the MOTEL. Welcome to Oblitus, the only thing you have to remember, when the sun sets– don’t open the door.

Born into Hollywood, Catie’s life was orchestrated by her parents: her father, an unsuccessful actor, thrust her into the spotlight, seeing her as his last chance at fame.Her mother, a well-known director, supported this to appease her father, grateful that it stopped his endless complaints about his career.From a young age, Catie learned to mask her feelings; any resistance to her parents' plans led to her father calling her ungrateful, forcing her to perform a “perfect daughter” act.

As Catie got older, her anger grew sharper. She tried to push it down, and it came out in other ways: outbursts on set, arguments with fellow cast members, and eventually, an attitude problem that branded her as “difficult.” When directors or producers gave her orders that felt too controlling, she’d snap. Despite her struggles, Catie became a recognisable child actress, starring in several TV shows and movies. However, by the age of 20, she could no longer endure the demands of her career and decided to disappear from the industry.

She fled to London, wanting a fresh start. Catie dabbled in teaching an acting class, but her lack of passion (and talent for that matter) for the craft rendered her ineffective as a teacher. She also tried her hand at writing, producing a debut book that fictionalised her childhood in the industry. She attempted painting, but her works lacked depth. She ventured into photography, only to find her skills were mediocre at best. Graphic design, jewellery making, and even a brief stint as a musician followed, but none of these pursuits worked out. Each new venture would start with excitement, but as soon as things got tough or she faced criticism, her frustration would turn to rage, and she’d quit before she could "fail."

Defeated, embarrassed, Catie relocated to Manchester, hoping to carve out a more conventional life away from her past. While the book garnered some attention, it wasn’t actually all that good and she stopped doing that too.

In Manchester, it seemed manageable for a while, but with her father back in her life, her old triggers flared up. His attempts to control her life, combined with his sense of entitlement to her inheritance, stoked her anger again, yet she couldn’t bring herself to confront him outright. Instead, Catie’s anger came out in bursts: shouting at strangers, smashing dishes, leaving situations abruptly. Her impulse to keep running—to leave her anger and the people triggering it behind—was strong. She decided to take off travelling. Despite her first trip being to Brazil, she finds herself in a deceptively American town. Welcome to Oblitus!

- how did they find the tree that led them here? what were they doing?

Catie was drifting from town to town with no particular plan. After a few weeks in Brazil, she booked a budget bus ticket to a coastal town. Somewhere along the route, the bus took a detour. While most passengers seemed unbothered, Catie grew restless. The landscape felt disorientingly wrong—dense forests pressing in on both sides of the road, with no sign of towns or rest stops. After hours on this unfamiliar route, the bus finally halted at a strange wooded clearing. They’d stopped to help someone change a flat tire. Impatient and wanting to stretch her legs, Catie wandered off into the trees.

She spotted an enormous old oak tree, its roots coiled and twisted, partially rising from the earth as though inviting her to step closer. She reached out, touching the bark—and suddenly felt a rush, almost like a sharp tug. She stumbled forward, losing her footing. When she straightened and looked around, the forest seemed different—too quiet, too dense. She looked back for the bus, but it was gone, replaced by eerie silence.

- describe your character’s first day/night in town? 

Catie's first day in the town is surreal, unsettling. When she first stepped out of the trees and into the heart of the town, it was too unbelievably quiet. The buildings look worn, faded, as if they hadn’t been touched for years. As she wanders the streets, Catie feels like she‘s walking through the set of an abandoned movie.

She eventually comes across a group of people gathered in what looked like a town centre. Relieved to see anyone, she approaches, half-expecting them to recognize her from her old acting days. Instead, the townsfolk just exchanged wary glances. She asks the way out of town but is met with, ‘There is no way out.’

She laughs, assuming they’re trying to scare her. But as the day wears on, the reality begins to sink in. She wanders the roads, trying to find a path back to the tree where she had first arrived, but each attempt leads her back into the town. Frustrated and confused, her anger starts to bubble up. She confronts a few people, demanding answers, but they just look at her with pity and fear.

[technicianuprisingau]

Kirbtober 2024 Companion Pieces - Week Two

A companion lore piece to the ongoing Kirbtober, using the list by @paintpanic. You can see the full art collection for this week here.

Day 7: Copy Ability

The Animal Copy Ability. What a funny little thing. Anyone that possessed this ability is guaranteed to act as if they are a very cheerful dog with a bit of a digging obsession. Aw.

I would like to say in preface that this ability DOES exist in Forgotten Land in this AU... it's just due to how the Technician ability functions, Kirby has been much used to inhale weapons and attacks rather than people. So in the end, Animal ends up being barely used, because uh. No inhaling the animals. Inhale guns instead.

Also, I asked anyone in this one server to recommend me an ability to draw for this prompt, first come first served, and someone just snatched in and said Animal like. 5 seconds later. Lmao.

Day 8: Phantom

Guess who doesn't have an idea what to do with this prompt because she is tired and absolutely not touching the Phantom counterparts from FL? It's me. Yeah, that's me. So instead, here's the Ghost ability.

Anyone holding this ability seems to be a mischievous bastard who likes scaring people off. Like, you know the whole ghosts pranking people thing. Yeah. That's it, that's all there is to it.

Day 9: Magic

A mage with endless curiosity can be seen walking through libraries and towers to learn magical spells. They are a master of magic, mana, and its surrounding topics. Traveling through far away lands to satiate their thirst of knowledge, they will keep and even share what they find to those who deserve it.

Flare Beam is one of the known existing 5 Super Abilities, created via the Fallen Star. When the star is restored, it overrides the user's personality to that akin of a curious mage with a little obsession to learning and sharing their knowledge of magic, who can instantly learn any spells as long as correct instructions are given. Otherwise, the typical 'summon massive orb of magic' shtick stays intact.

Its skills are as follows:

Sparkling Swish - swipes the staff in front of a target, blinding them with sparkles for a few seconds.

Hocus Sphere - charges up before creating a large ball made of magic. The ball can be controlled by the user's staff by moving it around. It will slowly shrink and dissipate overtime.

Pocus Disperse - only can be used on a magic attack. This spell will dissipate any magic attack property, including Hocus Sphere itself. There are many ways for the dissipation to work depending on the spell type, for example long beams will split into two before disappearing harmlessly, balls of magic will explode on spot, and so on and so forth.

Innate Mastering - requires a guide of a spell. Lets the user to instantly master that spell to use as long as this super ability is active. Once the super ability fades, the user will forget how the spell works. The learned spells from one session of the super ability in use DOES NOT carry over to the next.

Flow Recollection - restores ones' mana/energy at half of their capacity, rounded up. Has a cooldown.

Day 10: Mechanical

So... yes, the Technician ability is supposed to be a Kamen Rider tribute of sorts? This is why it starts with Kirby posing like Kamen Rider Ichigo.

But wait... Robobot Armor is there too? You see, this guy has, in the words of another RP server, a 'repressed whimsy'. I can imagine Robobot quietly and discreetly copying the henshin sequence, at least before the transformation scene triggers. So uhm. Haha. Lol. Lmao. Of course, they do not want to admit they liked it too. To keep up a facade of a strong, no-nonsense defender. F•cking nerd.

This is just an illustration, really, so. Eh.

Day 11: OC/Fav Character

Have drawn Kirby a lot and Robobot Armor just the day before, I believe it is time for Bandee to get his due, too. I always thought that the reason waddle dees have cloths tied to their spear is to ease identification and just because it looks cool.

Apparently these are made of special material, but no one really had the guts to uncover the secrets of it.

Day 12: Clone/Copy

Just a showcase on how Kirby does copy ability scanning. The scanner's the goggles instead! What, you think the goggles do absolutely nothing? Lol nope!

Day 13: Spin-Off

...you can tell I had to rush this one... Hello ibispaint my old friend. All you have to know is that not all spin-offs are not canon in Technician Uprising - I have planned some to be properly canon with changes. So let this be public knowledge that Rainbow Curse IS canon in TU.

[vampiremourning]

oh im gonna hsdgfjk

okay so three+ months ago i discovered I had a Fun Condition called perioral dermatitis. basically, just this Extraordinarily persistent face rash that looks like a bunch of small pustules in a circle around my mouth, but it also went around my nose and eyes. reacts to literally fucking Everything, deeply annoying to treat, even with antibiotics it takes weeks but usually months to clear. causes are ?? can be anything from inhaled steroids, face cream, toothpaste, hormones, etc. basically impossible to pinpoint. i have some guesses about what triggered it but ofc no real way to know for sure.

i go on 90 days of antibiotics. cool, whatever, condition dissipates but doesn't go away entirely. i think nothing of this bc I know even With oral antibiotics, it can still take months.

halfway through this treatment i develop arthritic symptoms. i also think nothing of this bc I have Some sort of illness undiagnosed anyway + family members have it so while I am definitely not happy w this development, I'm resigned.

i finish the pills.

less than 24 hours later, dermatitis has Returned. i know that allowing this to happen makes it worse and last longer. i cannot stress enough how bad it will be for my mental health if this happens. yes this probably sounds overly dramatic but I'm pretty sure watching my face flare up in any way is a legitimate trigger atp after dealing with cystic acne.

anyway. i book an appointment with my gp bc the pharmacist cannot refill the antibiotics. great except the appointment is at the End Of The Month, and I know this is going to be bad in a few days time. like, in the last few hours the inflammation has already accelerated, who knows how bad it'll be then, I'm assuming it'll be like I never even took the pills to start with. i am going to have a nervous breakdown.

mysteriously, the arthritis symptoms have Also started to decrease after stopping the antibiotics. that's weird, I think, that wasn't brought up in the list of side effects when I asked, but the timing is literally exactly when my face started flaring up so I know I definitely don't have those in my system anymore. i look this up, to see if there's a link.

'''acute polyarthritis''' also described as 'drug-induced lupus' are you Fucking Kidding Me

so i am now back as Square Fucking one for this shit, my skin is about to be so goddamn inflamed & I apparently can't even take the drug that was working to clear it up. because it causes inflammation in my joints.

and like i cant really express properly how mad this makes me lmfao because of Course. i spend a solid year on Accutane finally after being deterred for nearly a decade, i get maybe 4 months of enjoying my skin after I'm off of it and then This Shit. can i win?? can i Fucking win??????? no one else in my genepool seems to deal with this shit its just me and ohhh my god i am This close to walking straight into the ocean.

[warden-melli]

Not pokemon related but fuck these last few years have been tough. Been trying to distract myself all night but I think I need to vent for a sec

Trigger warning after the cut

I don’t want to get into details, but my uncle killed himself this morning. I knew something was wrong straight away when my mother randomly turned up with that look on her face. My grandmother was diagnosed with dementia last year, and my grandfather is in kidney failure, so at first I thought something bad and happened to them, but no. It was my uncle.

I spent a lot of today with my dad. My uncle was his little brother, and quite frankly as sad as I am for what happened to my uncle, I’m most worried about my dad right now. Not only did he lose both his father and older sister within the last year or so, but he’s been in pretty poor health himself. He was involved in an accident at work earlier this year involving a chainsaw, and honestly he’s lucky to be alive. PPE did it’s job, but even so he still ended up losing a tooth, and he’s had to have dental/implant surgeries to repair the damage. The last few weeks he’s also been extremely ill having caught Ross River fever from a job site. I have never seen him this sick in my entire life, and it has been extremely distressing seeing him in so much pain. He’s recovering from being sick, but he’s had an absolutely terrible run of luck, and that’s not even all of it. His best friend/brother in law has lung cancer, his sister just had a heart attack after contracting covid, and another of his sisters was just in a major car accident (he’s one of 10 kids btw). Also his pet budgie died last week. I feel horrible for him and I wish I could do something to make it better.

The last few weeks have been really tough. I broke my wisdom tooth, and because I am really bad at telling if/where I’m in pain I kinda tried to live with an exposed nerve for a few weeks before realising that it was serious. I knew something was wrong, but I have tmjd so I just kinda thought it was a chronic pain flare up at first. Like a really bad one, but I tried to ignore it. I had the back of my knee tattooed while dealing with a cracked wisdom tooth oof. After I figured out it wasn’t going to go away I eventually went to the dentist and had it extracted, but that was really hard for me to deal with. I was happy that the sharp pain had gone, but my jaw has been extremely sore since, and I really struggled sensory wise during the healing period. Then I broke my guitar and my fridge broke, so that’s over $1000 on top of the dental bills -_-

Idk life feels really hard lately. Haven’t been able to draw much, and have just been feeling flat in general. And now my uncle has passed and I just feel terrible. I’ll be okay. My sister is due to have a baby within weeks, and I’ve got some good concerts to look forward to, so it’s not all bad. One of my little sisters has been a twenty one pilots fan since she was literally an infant, and she’s finally old enough to see them live and I was able to get her really good tickets. She’s autistic too and has been working on her outfit and making stickers, and every time I see her that’s all she can talk about. I’m so happy for her and that I get to take her. There is good stuff, and good people and as silly as it sounds Melli/Pokemon really helps. He’s so so special to me. I’m glad I have him to focus on

I just needed to get stuff off of my chest, so if you’ve made it this far thanks for listening. Even if no one reads this just typing it out made me feel a bit better. May be a bit less active for a while, might be way more active. Idk how my brain wants to handle this lol