#as medical professionals we signed up to save lives... we are not soldiers who are signing up to fight and to 'give' our lives for the sake

[singinginthecar]

as a medical professional but more importantly, as a human being, i will never forget these war crimes after war crimes after war crimes

[scartale-an-undertale-au]

With everything happening to Israel, I hope you’re ok

thank you :D i’m fortunately mostly safe from what’s happening. i only had a siren once and heard the booms only several times and i don’t live near the areas where the riots and lynches are happening.

here is my rant about the situation

sadly, though, i do have to read a lot of posts from ignorant people who clearly haven’t done any research into the situation (i.e. don’t live in it, didn’t watch the israeli news, or plain just believes whatever pallywood posts). i don’t have much influence sadly but i have to make things clear to people who might be confused - the situation began because of people unbelieving that they live in a society and do, in fact, have to act like it. it started in six houses where the residents were evicted because they weren’t paying rent for decades despite the agreements and somehow they turned it into a international thing. then rioters were throwing rocks from the mosque and running into it when the soldiers came and were like ‘how dare they go into a holy place’ while they cowardly threw rocks from a mosque* on ramadaan like, wow, talk about desecrating a holy place. 

and ofc the whole hamas shooting thousands of rockets into israel, with a third of its rockets landing in gaza killing many gazans. idf attacking high profile hamas operators and warning citizens of the buildings they were going to bomb because what a surprise, hamas hides behind its citizens and then blames it on israel. we literally have a history of giving medical treatment to gazans, i don’t know how else to tell people that we give a crap. because we could have literally erased gaza from the earth. also the reason they dont have electricity? one of the rockets hit the power line. karma is a bitch but sadly it harms the citizens more than the actual bastards in hamas. btw, those rockets? those tunnels that they built to get into israel? all those villas to the leaders? where do you think the money came from? they came from all the money that was given for the citizens. the citizens saw none of it.

also, anyone calling gaza an open air prison is an idiot who never opened an atlas because they think all gaza’s borders are in israel.

well, boo boo, wrong! its southern border is with *drums roll* egypt. which, btw, actually blocks the border from anything. so, like, once again, israel gets the heat for being pushovers, great.

we had sadly jews attacking and lynching on arabs and that something that should never have happened and i’ll never be happy that those things happened. but it didn’t happen in a bubble. it wasn’t also the only kind of attacks that happened. arabs attacking and lynching on cars, on people. they burned down synagogues! they burned down holy places with torah scrolls that were destroyed and the pictures literally look like the  Kristallnacht in 1938. one time, an arab saw it happening and managed to save the torah scrolls and omg, what an amazing guy. but still, so many holy scriptures were burnt and destroyed. the images are horrifying and i’m crying by just remembering. because israel is supposed to be the place jews would feel safe finally. we were supposed to be safe from progroms, from lynching, from our holy places being treated like firewood.

you have the right extremities attacking arabs, and you have jews unable to decide if they should stay at their homes during a siren and risk being hit by a rocket or brave the mamad (bunker) with their arab neighbors that are suddenly hostile to the point of attacking.

israel was never perfect. we have so much to improve and racism is still an issue. but also remember that we are less than 75 years old. it took the usa over 200 years to even begin to deal with its racism. we had to deal with so many wars just to exist and we don’t have the benefit of the sea as a barrier. you can literally drive down south and suddenly find yourself in jordan.

but the fact that the world immediately decided that we’re the bad guys no matter how much we strive to do good and for peace despite everyone wanting us gone (not in a different state, gone. dead. in the goddamn sea.).

the world is treating the palestinians like little babies who can do no harm. i hate to break it to them, but they can and did do a whole lot of harm. a lot of israeli arabs have helped israeli jews in so many cases in the past and present. a lot of medical professionals are arabs. they came to help after the tragedy in meron mountain. a lot of amazing stories of them being kind and true brethren. a lot of stories of co-existing. but they were literally crumbled down to nothing when suddenly the mixed cities began exploding with lynches and attacks and just pure terror. bedouins blocking one of the main roads to be’er sheba. electricity boxes being destroyed, leaving many people (mainly israeli jews) without it and no batteries or internet

i’m ranting now because if i have to read another post crying over palestinians children being harmed and then sneering at israeli people for existing and wishing for their deaths, i will literally go to them to shoot their legs myself (don’t know how, but i will) because children are already showing signs of extreme ptsd, of anxiety. the south (especially the area around the border with gaza) had been dealing with constant rockets for 20 years. children grow up so traumatized they can’t be soldiers because the sound of a gun going off sends them into a panic attack.

like, the usa is asking israel and hamas to have a cease fire, but it keeps basically looking at israel to back down and i’m so in the mood to say ‘no. i say, get the citizens out and just raze the place down’ even if it’s impossible to actively do. i’m done with sjw thinking they’re so woke and amazing for supporting the palestinians while they’re actually supporting the destruction of israel over all and the jews in particular.

because guess what? antisemitism have never been more in fashion.

(i’m sorry for going off on an adorable anon wanting to see me safe, but thank you for letting me go off like that. i needed to rant. also, anyone spreading hate should be ashamed)

p.s. anyone wanting to rant about apartheid or occupied territory, go open a dictionary or a history book on what actual apartheid is and then go check the archeological evidence of jews having occupied the land of israel before islam was a thing and even before christianity was a thing. especially how the dome of the rock was built on the temple mount. on top of what used to be the holy temples for the jews. you also always had jews living in israel in small numbers. we were never truly gone from the land of israel.

p.s.s. a good video i found that summarizes mostly well is ‘geography now-israel’. it’s not perfect but it gets the point across.

[erisbaek]

Stucky Fic Rec [Part One]

So I decided to split the fic recs up into parts because they will be too long otherwise. In each part I will link the Google Doc that I am typing them up in, which is where I will constantly update as I read.  Within these fic recs, they’re mostly my preferences, so very few (if any) Shrinkyclinks, and ABO fics will be within them, as well as shorter fics, since I actively seek fics out that are longer than 10k (and completed)!!

The Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit?usp=sharing

The first part is formatted under the cut, if you’d prefer to stay out of the doc!

Lightning in a Bottle 

    Word Count: 63k     Rating: Explicit     Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Road Trip!AU, Angst with Happy Ending     Warnings: Smut, Smoking     Synopsis: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking. The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction… Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride.

It gets more complicated from there.

Perspective and Truth

        Word Count: 16.7k          Rating: Teen and Up         Notable Tags: Bodyswap!AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort        Warnings: None        Synopsis: Bucky and Steve end up swapping bodies and learning a lot more about each other in the process

Carbs and Conversations

         Word Count: 48k          Rating: Teen and Up          Notable Tags: Hockey!AU, No Powers          Warnings: None          Synopsis: Bucky was just looking for a chance. A chance to get on the ice and play. A chance to escape from Hydra. A chance to redeem himself. He didn't include 'A chance to be friends with Steve Rogers' on the list. That would be ridiculous. Lucky for him, Steve seemed determined to be ridiculous.

So Loud and So Clear

           Word Count: 26.6k            Rating: Mature            Notable Tags: Get Together, Slow Build            Warnings: None           Synopsis: Bucky had been careful, after all, leaving no trace of his comings and goings. It was horrendously disappointing to know that Rogers had found him. Bucky was a lot better than getting caught by a guy who wore the American flag as a onesie. He just really was. “Don’t you – Bucky – Bucky,” Rogers started, and to Bucky’s growing horror, it looked like Rogers was on the verge of some type of emotional eclipse. Anger, sadness, something, and Bucky wanted nothing to do with it. “Hate to break it to you, bud, but I don’t remember ever living here and I don’t remember you.”

A Loyal Viewer 

           Word Count: 36.1k            Rating: Explicit             Notable Tags: Camboy!Steve, Punk!Bucky, No Powers, Long Distance            Relationship            Warnings: Smut            Synopsis: At almost exactly eight thirty in the evening, Steve settles on the bed before his camera and the computer. He signs into his account on Chaturbate and clicks the button that starts his stream.

In My Conditions, Love’s the Best Physician

             Word Count: 9.1k              Rating: Not Rated              Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pharmacist!Bucky, Russian!Bucky              Warnings: None              Synopsis: ”This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts. The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him. Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?” - Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered) 

               Word Count: 66.7k                Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Mechanic!Bucky, Slow Burn                Warnings: Smut, Canonical Character Death                Synopsis: It's 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

Looking For A Place To Hide

                Word Count: 33.3k                 Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Endgame Fix-It, 2012!Steve                 Warnings: Smut                 Synopsis:  It's 2012 and all Steve knows is that another version of himself said Bucky is alive. Steve will do anything to get his friend back, even if it means time traveling to 2023. He expects Bucky to be happy to see him, but instead he's wary, hurt. Turns out his Steve had left him for Peggy. How? Why? Steve can't believe it. Now he'll have to find a way to make sense of it all, and convince Bucky that it's the two of them to the end of the line.

The Wolf and the Sheep

               Word Count: 50.5k                Rating: Teen and Up                Notable Tags: Shield Agent!Steve, Winter Soldier!Bucky                 Warnings: None                Synopsis: Steve Rogers is a SHIELD agent who is recruited for a secret project: Becoming a handler for the Asset. Steve’s world is thrown for a loop when he discovers the Asset is an actual person and he needs to figure out who he is and what he’s going to do.

All Those Little Pieces

                 Word Count: 40.5k                  Rating: Mature                  Notable Tags: Alternating POV, Post CATW                  Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks                  Synopsis: Steve has never forgotten Bucky Barnes. Not their childhood together, not the horror of the moment Bucky fell too far for him to reach, and not the way he's loved him all the while. Bucky has forgotten everything about Steve, at least at first. But there's still a feeling there, warm in his chest—and maybe now that he's found his way back to Steve Rogers and his sunny apartment, there's a chance it might turn into something more.

My Dear

                   Word Count: 29.9k                    Rating: Explicit                     Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery                    Warnings: Smut                    Synopsis: The Soldier stares down at the floor, breathing hard through his nose. “And you still wanna fix me,” he says. Steve shakes his head. “There’s nothing to fix, Buck. I just want to bring you home.”

Living On My Own

                    Word Count: 26.1k                     Rating: Mature                     Notable Tags: Vigilante!Bucky                      Warnings: Blood and Gore                     Synopsis: James Barnes is back in the world and finds that not only has there been 1) an alien invasion, but 2) Howard Stark had a kid. One that dispenses unsolicited life advice, no less. Oh, and 3) Captain America is alive again, after getting himself killed by his own recklessness in a move so stupid only Steve could have come up with it. In which James learns to do laundry, turns into an accidental neighborhood vigilante and makes Tony Stark a happy grease monkey, all while he figures out where to stake his claim.

Chase the Lighting From the Sky

                      Word Count: 39.4k                       Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: No Powers, Age Gap, Farm!AU                        Warnings: Smut, Past Character Death, Animal Death                       Synopsis: If Bucky has to be stuck doing this ridiculous summer work program before his senior year of college, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, then at least he’s got a hot as hell cowboy for a boss and host. Steve Rogers, owner of the Truth & Justice Ranch, is what Bucky’s completely theoretical but very imaginative bisexual fantasies are made of. Steve’s a widower though, and a nice guy in need of help, and no doubt 100% straight… so Bucky’s gonna work his ass off and keep his head down. But neither Bucky nor Steve are prepared for the friendship that forms between them as they work side by side. And they certainly aren’t expecting the budding feelings, confessions, and passions that summer heat and the loneliness of the great open plains stirs in each of them. What rages to life between them will shake each man to his core and will linger long after the storms and the summer have passed.

Cinder and Smoke

                       Word Count: 51.7k                        Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: Sheriff!Steve, Blacksmith!Bucky, Old Western                        Warnings: Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, OC Death                        Synopsis: “They say there’s no law in Parasapa. Is that true?”

Art Thief, Heart Thief

                       Word Count: 58.8k                        Rating: Mature                        Notable Tags: FBI!Steve, Thief!Bucky Barnes                        Warnings: Smut                        Synopsis: Agent Steve Rogers is facing a series of art thefts that has him stumped, and looking for a break in the case. Convicted art thief and general high end criminal Bucky Barnes wants to make parole and happens to know all of the right people who could make Steve's job easier. So they strike a deal, mutually beneficial and entirely business. But a few days undercover, an undeniable growing chemistry, and some ill-timed Feelings entering the mix, and all bets are off.

Laws of Thermodynamics 

                       Word Count: 14.6k                        Rating: Explicit                         Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery                         Warnings: Smut                        Synopsis: He never had to relearn how to love Steve Rogers. It might be the one thing he never forgot.

Abstract Art

                       Word Count: 26.6k                        Rating: Teen and Up                        Notable Tags: Friends to Lovers, Artist!Steve, Ex Sniper!Bucky                        Warnings: None                        Synopsis: They survive almost a year of torture together, cells side by side, banter and teasing and stories. They keep each other alive. Then everything changes. They tell Bucky that Rogers's been killed. He tries to piece his life together, to move on. Steve owns an art store. He's given up looking. It's over. Except it's really not.

We Discovered Gold

                       Word Count: 18.7k                        Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: Post CACW, Fix-It, Wakanda                         Warnings: Smut                        Synopsis: “So you got these safe houses scattered all over Russia?” Steve jokes into the soft hair over Bucky's temple, not pulling away, “Or did we just get lucky?” Bucky shakes his head and then replies, “Got myself a few. It’s been a long two years.” “Yeah pal,” Steve nods, burrowing further, “I hear that.”

Never Mind to Hold 

                      Word Count: 21.6k                       Rating: Mature                       Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Not CACW Compliant, Soulmarks                       Warnings: Brief Suicidal Ideation                       Synopsis: Steve didn't know the name of Bucky's soulmate. He wasn't even sure when it had appeared across Bucky's heart. But Steve knew it wasn't his name hidden under that patch.

Where There’s Smoke 

                      Word Count: 95.1k                       Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: Firefighter!AU                       Warnings: Smut                       Synopsis: Steve is a Brooklyn firefighter who is about to be saddled with a new, rookie crewmate. James Barnes is that rookie, just looking for a fresh start at a new station. Steve's friends think they know what's best for him...start dating his new crewmate. Steve thinks they're crazy...or possibly right. But events from James's recent past may pose a threat to any designs they have on each other.

Let Them Eat Cake

                    Word Count: 31k                     Rating: Explicit                      Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pastry Chef!Steve, Sommelier!Bucky                     Warnings: Smut, Drug Use                     Synopsis: Steve picked up the piping bag and returned to the ramekins. Bucky left, though not without shooting one last look at Steve's wide back. Bucky could already tell Steve Rogers was trouble, not even counting the near-religious experiences he inspired among the staff. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t appreciate him as well; he did. He just tended to appreciate people he found attractive from afar, because explaining the metal arm was hard, and because he didn’t really know how to handle letting someone in close. But that wasn’t why Steve was trouble, not really. Bucky wanted to know why their new pastry chef had gun calluses on his right hand.

Adrenalize Me 

                  Word Count: 58.5k                   Rating: Explicit                    Notable Tags: Vampire!Steve                   Warnings: Smut, Blood                   Synopsis: Leaning against the side of a wall, taking an indolent drag of a cigarette, there he stood. Watching Bucky with an inscrutable gaze. Staring at Bucky for long seconds, the blond seemed to consider him before breaking the silence. “You know, nice guy like you walking alone at this hour – people might think you were looking for trouble.” Trying not to shudder at the sound of that voice, which wrapped around him like smoke, Bucky managed a smirk, lifted a brow. “Well, if I was, it looks like I found it.” Two strangers meet in a dark club. One just happens to be a vampire.

The Change in Us 

                 Word Count: 23.4k                  Rating: Explicit                  Notable Tags: N/A                  Warnings: Smut                  Synopsis: “I’ve found your BFF,” Stark says without preamble. “My… what?” “James Barnes. Winter Soldier. Bucky. I don’t know, I don’t care, but right now he’s perched on the roof of the next building with a gun on me, and it’s not so much my idea of a relaxing afternoon, so could you get down here?” Steve hangs up and starts running.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

                  Word Count: 38.2k                   Rating: Explicit                   Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Ex Army!Bucky                   Warnings: Minor Smut                    Synopsis: Many an odd critter and item have ended up on the front porch of the property Bucky house-sits in the Middle Of Nowhere, but a bleeding blond man is a first. A short inspection reveals the man to be none other than Steve Rogers; ex-Captain America, vigilante, and a wanted fugitive. Steve’s stay of a few days of recovery is prolonged, under instructions for him to lie low until the Avengers can sort out the mess that has become the Sokovia Accords. Bucky is pretty sure that he’s committing an act of treason by providing Steve a place to stay. He is also pretty sure that lengthy interaction with Steve makes one prone to impending headaches and possibly ulcers. And he is certain that he is, very assuredly, in danger of falling in love with Steve.

The Soldier’s Revenge

                 Word Count: 76.4k                  Rating: Explicit                   Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Enemies To Lovers, Slow Burn                  Warnings: Smut                  Synopsis: Bucky Barnes turns himself in to SHIELD two years after dragging Captain America out of the Potomac River. He was deprogrammed in Wakanda and has been hunting down Hydra ever since, but he needs help if he wants to take proper revenge on his captors. He turns to his old enemies: SHIELD and the Avengers, but it'll take more than a few words to win their trust after the Winter Soldier brought SHIELD to its knees not long before. Now at SHIELD's mercy, the only thing that stands between Bucky and his revenge is the approval of Captain Rogers: a self-righteous asshole that Bucky barely knows.

The Best Way to Wake

                  Word Count: 42.2k                   Rating: Explicit                   Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Slow Burn                   Warnings: Smut                   Synopsis: James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!” In which Bucky Barnes lay frozen in the Alps for seventy years only to be woken up a year after Steve Rogers was uncovered from the Arctic.

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark

                    Word Count: 89.5k                     Rating: Explicit                      Notable Tags: Age Difference, CIA!Steve, Barista!Bucky, Sugar                            Daddy!Steve                     Warnings: Smut                     Synopsis: Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school and is working on his international relations masters. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? Bucky is going to have to figure out his shit and fast. That's what's up.

Laughter Lines

                   Word Count: 100.2k                    Rating: Mature                    Notable Tags: Bodyguard!AU, Slow Burn                    Warnings: None                    Synopsis: Bucky Barnes is a rising Hollywood star with a tragic past and a reputation for driving his bodyguards away. Steve Rogers is a veteran with the same tragic past and the need to get back out in the world. The two of them have been estranged since they were teenagers, so when Steve joins SHIELD as a bodyguard, he is less than thrilled when he finds out that Bucky is his first assignment. But how bad can it be? They're both professional adults, right?Wrong.

From Hydra with Love

                   Word Count: 21.2k                    Rating: Mature                    Notable Tags: Spies!Steve and Bucky                    Warnings: Smut                    Synopsis: Captain Steve Rogers is one of the best spies in the world - a marksman, a martial artist, an expert in strategy and tactics. There's not a lot he can't handle. Heck, he's even saved the world once or twice. So why does every run in with the mysterious Winter Soldier leave him feeling like the Bond Girl?

Goddamn Electric

                Word Count: 67.8k                 Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Bodyguard!Steve, Musician!Bucky                 Warnings: Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Smut                 Synopsis: Steve Rogers works for a discreet private security company and gets assigned to James Barnes, a musician who takes the idea of 'sex, drugs & rock 'n roll' just a little too seriously.

There Was Something About Steve Rogers

                Word Count: 46.7k                 Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Post CATWS                 Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks                 Synopsis: The Winter Soldier knows Steve Rogers has deep feelings for Bucky Barnes, and decides that he can use that to his advantage to gain protection from the Hydra agents still trying to find him. What he didn't bargain for was actually starting to care about the man they call Captain America, or the strength of Bucky Barnes' memories as they begin to resurface.

Through the Mist

                Word Count: 14.5k                 Rating: Teen and Up                 Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Post CATWS                 Warnings: None                 Synopsis: He usually kept it covered. Whether it be with long sleeves, a cuff of some sort, or make up Natasha skillfully showed him how to apply. He didn’t cover it up because he was ashamed or because he was one of those people who didn’t like others knowing who his soulmate was- no. He covered it up out of respect. Respect for his fallen partner, and respect for himself because he knew looking at those swoopy lines of James B. Barnes on his wrist always made him crumble like his legs were kicked down. When he crashed into the ice all those years ago he thought he was going to see Bucky again- he thought he was finally going to be with Bucky without people giving them ugly looks and throwing slurs their way. He thought he was going to be happy again.

Take Me Home 

              Word Count: 78.1k               Rating: Mature               Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Veteran!Bucky               Warnings: Smut, Torture, Referenced Suicide               Synopsis: “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna help you I promise, just don’t move, fuck, I ran over Captain America–” the man apologized, over and over, and all Steve managed to say was, “You’re really attractive,” before passing out on the guy’s lap in the middle of the road.

Where the Circle Ends

               Word Count: 29.8k                Rating: Mature                Notable Tags: Zombie Apocalypse!AU                 Warnings: Smut, Gore                Synopsis: In which the world has gone to hell in a zombie apocalypse handbasket and, in the middle of it all, Steve finds the one person he never thought he'd see again. Angst and feelings (amongst other things) ensue.

Our Souls (They Were Made to Last) 

               Word Count: 53.8k                Rating: Mature                Notable Tags: No Powers, Veteran!Steve, Doctor!Bucky, Ghost!Bucky                Warnings: None                Synopsis: Dr. James Barnes is too busy saving lives to actually have one of his own. When he finally agrees to go on a blind date, he gets into an accident that will change his life forever. Retired Army Captain Steve Rogers is depressed, and when he moves into his new apartment he finds it already occupied....with the ghost of its last tenant. To make matters worse, the ghost is adamant that he's not dead. As they navigate their way through their new living arrangements, can they save each other, before it’s too late? Or have they missed their one shot at a happy ending?

By Any Other Name

                 Word Count: 36.9k                  Rating: Explicit                  Notable Tags: Assassins and Hitmen!AU, Spies and Agents!AU                  Warning: Smut                 Synopsis: Steve was a good spy. It turned out one good spy didn't stand a chance against a rival security firm, a contract killer, and his own heart.

[creepingsharia]

Doctors of Terror - How's that vetting going?

More on the Pakistani Doctor on H-1B Visa Indicted for Jihadist Plot

Excerpted via Pakistani Doctor on H-1B Visa Indicted for Jihadist Plot - How's that vetting going? By Todd Bensman

During his two years working as a "research coordinator" on an H-1B visa for the Rochester, Minn., Mayo Clinic, Pakistani medical doctor Muhammad Masood allegedly saw himself as having gotten "behind enemy lines" where "not many people cant [sic] even reach here to attack."

...

Doctors of Terror

Maybe it's time to start adding professionals like foreign doctors applying for U.S. medical positions to risk profiles from all higher-risk countries not on Trump's travel restriction list, which would trigger deeper-dive investigations for H-1B visa applicants in countries of national security concern like Pakistan.

The idea is not far-fetched when considering research-based evidence and other anecdotal reporting that medical doctors all too often become terrorists or terrorist leaders. There's Bin Laden's successor, Dr. Ayman al-Zawahiri; George Habash, who founded the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine; and Fathi Shikaki, founder of Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Abdel Aziz al-Rantisis, the late leader of Hamas was a pediatrician.

Doctors are not just terrorist leaders, but operators too. Eight suspects in the 2007 foiled so-called "Physicians Plot" to bomb London and Glasgow targets were physicians and medical professionals, such as the Iraq-born Dr. Bilal Abdullah, arrested trying to blow up a jeep packed with gas cylinders at the Glasgow airport.

U.S. Army Maj. Nidal Hassan, the jihadist who massacred soldiers at Fort Hood in 2009 was a doctor. The American-educated "Lady al-Qaeda", Pakistan-born Aafia Siddiqui is now in federal prison in Texas after a 2010 conviction for grabbing an M-4 rifle after her American capture in Afghanistan and opening fire on U.S. soldiers, screaming "Allah Akbar!" She is an M.I.T.-trained neuroscientist who earned a PhD from Brandeis University and went on to plot mass-casualty attacks on several New York City landmarks.

In 2015, ISIS put out a call for foreign health workers through social media, blogs, and high-budget videos boasting of state-of-the-art facilities and equipment and medical schools in which 100 students were allowed to train for free (half of them foreigners).

Doctors and medical students responded enthusiastically and came running for the opportunity from the UK, Canada, the United States, and other countries. One of them was Kefah Basheer Hussein, a doctor of rheumatology who served ISIS and its predecessor incarnations for 15 years, according to CNN, which interviewed the captured physician in 2018. He both killed and healed as ISIS Minister of Health. But Hussein also oversaw organ and blood harvesting from captives scheduled to be executed.

Security Vetting

A friend of mine who administers a medical school and hospital complex in the U.S. Southwest, and who did not wish to be quoted by name, told me the facilities that bring in foreign medical students on H-1B visas from the Muslim world do no security vetting on their own and rely instead on the federal government to do that work.

"We might run drug tests or something with criminal background, but the assumption is that the government has done that job," he said.

Because they are non-immigrant temporary workers, H-1B applicants go through about the same security screening as would a foreigner wanting to enter on a tourist visa, even in countries of national security concern like Pakistan, which is regarded as a "high-threat" post.

Federal officials familiar with the vetting process tell CIS that DHS and the State Department will check the application packet for obvious signs of fraud and run applicant names and dates of birth through TECS, CLASS, and IDENT databases for hits on terrorism watch lists or criminal history. Fingerprints are run through other databases. The packet is passed to an in-country U.S. consular officer, who will call the applicant in and conduct a perfunctory, pro-forma interview looking for signs of fraud or inconsistency. The same checks typically are run on anyone asking for a short-term tourist visa, even in countries like Pakistan where U.S.-designated terrorist organizations operate.

"It's the same amount of vetting as to go on vacation at Walt Disney World," one DHS veteran explained.

With no database hits, paperwork in order and checking out, and no suspicions of fraud, said one officer of the U.S. State Department familiar with the process, "the consulate officer probably said, 'oh, he's a doctor ... he's going to the Mayo Clinic ... this packet is probably ok ... um great, go save lives!'"

In 2019, the Trump administration wisely moved to toughen vetting for all foreign visa applicants by requiring five years' worth of social media profiles, email addresses, phone numbers, international travel and deportation status, as well as information on whether any family members have been involved in terrorist activities. Data like that might have opened more vistas on visa applicants' hearts and minds, maybe even deterring those who have something to hide in their social media.

But Masood seems to have secured his visa and entered the United States prior to this social media requirement, although there's a chance he may have been required to under earlier pilot programs.

To be fair, probably fewer dangerous terrorists than not end up in intelligence databases, leaving those responsible to somehow read hearts and minds.

A labor-intensive investigation, such as checking a petitioner's online life and interviewing friends, relatives, and former employers might turn up a terrorism problem. But those kinds of investigations, while certainly helped by the social media and email address requirements now, are still rare and not normalized.

"You'd need a crazy Carrie," the State Department officer said, referring to the lead character in the television series "Homeland", to uncover a prospective terrorist applying for an H-1B visa with current protocols and resources. "There's only so much you can do. You do everything you possibly can and, just, you know ... ? It sounds like this guy was the model citizen. If all of his paperwork was in order, and a consulate officer said 'he's a doctor, he's going to the Mayo Clinic,' they're just not going to do a lot of checking."

[qm-vox]

The Dwelling Gods - Here To Help

Previous Chapter: A More Perfect Union

Shout-out to @endreal for inspiring this chapter’s topic

CW: Suicide mention

Planet Athens, Parthenon System (Risen Terran space), 402 P.T. (2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; approximately two years after the start of the Humanities War)

“Salutations, Cherished One. My name is D4-73, designated by the Cherished as Daze. Thank you for coming to see me.”

I offer a hand to my patient, Helen Trialstz, and they shake it with some reluctance. They have dark circles around their bloodshot eyes, and they shake, faintly. They’ve not been sleeping. They sink into the comfortable chair a short distance from mine and fidget with ragged nails.

Poor thing.

“Anything you say here will be kept strictly confidential,” I continue, in my most soothing voice. “I am of course obligated to report if I seriously believe you will attempt to harm others, but given the subject of our visit...”

“I want to claim Valhalla,” Helen says. Their voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper, but there’s such ferocity to it.

I nod in a soft motion. “Even so.” I pick up my notes from the desk next to me; not strictly necessary, given the expansive memory for which my model is known, but it soothes organic patients and helps them remember that I am a medical professional, not an impersonal machine. “Your application to become a Valhallan came at an unusual time in your life. I am not a gatekeeper, Helen; my judgement does not influence whether or not you can make your claim. I am simply here to listen, and to advise.”

The terran fidgets, picking at their nails. I offer them a nail file, and they accept it with a look of guilt and of gratitude. “Four required sessions sounds like gatekeeping to me.”

“You may have a point there,” I concede with a nod. “But surely you can understand why the Phoenix would prefer its citizens to be...absolutely certain, before taking such a drastic step. I am here to provide certainty, one way or the other. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Helen lapses into silence and files at their nails; they look up at me every now and again, looking away the instant they notice that I am still paying attention to them. The mechanical clock (an affectation, to be sure, one that takes constantly daily correction, but one of which I am fond) ticks away long seconds. I give Helen a full minute before I speak up again.

“You are younger than most claimants. Your file says you have not yet undergone your civic service?” Helen looks up at me while I shuffle my papers. “Can I ask what has motivated you to claim the right to end a life that has barely begun?”

Helen is silent again. They concentrates on their nails like they have the answers I’m looking for. I wait; I have nothing but time.

“The hivemind,” Helen whispers at last. “That thing. I won’t - I can’t -” tears well up in their eyes, and I offer them a box of tissues, which they take. Helen clutches the box close to their chest and sobs in big, heaving motions. I wish I could say that I was shocked, but Helen is not my first claimant, and they are not my first to cite this precise reasoning.

The hivemind. There is nothing terrans hate or fear more, and now they know that their own ancestors created it.

“Someone has to be punished,” Helen whispers. “We - I...”

“Why should it be you?” I ask in a mild voice. Helen blinks, eyes still full of tears. “You did not create Humanity United. You are not responsible.”

“But we did,” Helen murmurs. “...We did that. We made this, this, this godless thing, and we released it out into the Galaxy and now it’s going to hurt so many people...”

“Helen...” I sigh - well, I ‘sigh’. “Obviously I cannot force you to do anything. But I suspect that you may be acting without all proper information. I would like to make a suggestion to you.” Wordlessly, my patient nods, so I continue. “Down the block you’ll find Beth Or Synagogue, where, among others, my friend Rabbi Chiron Rellvan teaches. Between this session and your next one, go see him. Tell him of your worries and your plan, and listen to what he has to say.”

“I’m not Jewish,” Helen mumbles.

“You will discover that this is hardly an obstacle or a new situation for this or most Rabbis,” I reply. “...Helen, you have nothing to lose. In the worst case, you follow through with your claim and get what you seek. In the best case, you have learned something new and avoided a needless tragedy. If Valhalla truly is what is best for you, I will not be an obstacle. But I would be remiss as your doctor and as one of my people if I did not offer alternatives.”

Tick-tock-tick, into the silence. And then: “Okay, Doctor Daze.”

Observation Post Argus (Assisted Living space), 2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar

“Salutations, Cherished One! My name is G5-LX, designated by the Cherished as Lowlife. Can I buy you a drink?”

The ibraxian I’m talking to hasn’t given me his name (a particularly beautiful series of whistling sounds, incidentally), and he also doesn’t shake my hand with his tendrils immediately. It’s the designation, it always is.

“That nickname does not sound like your given name.”

Told you!

“It does not,” I agree in my very most pleasant whistle. Love of the Cherished but I adore the ibraxian language. It’s so birdlike and bright. “May I buy you that drink, quartermaster?”

At last, my new friend wraps his tentacle around my hand and wrist, a sign that I may sit. I catch the eye of the bartender and signal for two drinks; I can’t drink mine, but it would be insulting not to have one, so here I am. And if I can land this deal, two drinks is nothing.

Actually, two drinks is nothing anyway, but details.

“How may I repay you?” my friend the quartermaster asks. His ship is docked at the station, alongside many others, on their way to the front of the Humanities War. There’s a lot of Gataxian colonies to defend, evacuate, or both, and a lot of hyperlanes to try to cut off or choke out. The Federation’s mobilizing like it hasn’t since the Organism. Bad job, that. Before my time. A lot of the Cherished died, and a lot of helper-bots died with ‘em - alongside them, or trying to save them. Mostly that second one, but still.

Now, though, the dance. “It could be that I have a business venture for a friend in your position. This idea, it burdens my waking thoughts and weighs down what should make me merry. A listening ear could lift this burden from me.”

My new friend contemplates this while the drinks arrive. We raise our glasses to one another, which is where my part of that little ritual has to end; as much as I love the Cherished, I can’t drink and I’m not gonna look stupid in front of them trying. After downing his own drink fully - an excellent sign! - he gives me a two-tendril gesture to continue.

I steeple my fingers in front of my face like a terran, taking quiet delight in their soft, almost musical sounds. “I am in a position to supply for particular needs for your fleet. You sail to glorious battle, defending the weak and the innocent from the depredations of the hive-mind! But that means strictly controlled communications, and definitely no downloads or uploads. Soldiers have needs beyond the physical. Their bodies thirst, yes, but what of their minds?”

I can almost hear my good friend the quartermaster start to bristle something about drugs, but then he stops himself; helper-bots don’t sell drugs, right? Not exactly true, but close enough for government work...

“Aboard my vessel is a truly staggering quantity of entertainment, much of it carnal in nature,” I say, and I let the pixelated eyebrows on my face-plate bounce up and down. “All of it manufactured in the Assisted Living Complexes by those of the Cherished whose fondest dream is to have an audience that can...truly know them. I also have supplies of some of the latest games to release since the start of the Humanities War, trids and VR scenarios, and a rather lovely little psionic board game the spirrans came out with. Now, I cannot make use of most of this merchandise myself...”

“...Hence the need to find a friend who might favor you with a purchase,” my friend the quartermaster finishes. “But surely, friend Lowlife, you understand that monetary gain is unlikely in this arena? My pay is sent home, to be kept in trust against the day that I may know peace again, and even if it was not a soldier’s salary is heavily seasoned with duty rather than wealth.”

I nod. “Even so, Cherished One. Even so. But it is not monetary gain that I seek.”

Around us, the station’s bar bustles. Enlisted men and NCOs get their last drinks and flirtations in; they can’t stay long, and they know it. Every passing second brings them closer to the war, and the sleeting torrent of time is on my side in this deal.

“Instead,” I continue, “I would ask for two things. The first is that when the time comes for you, in your turn, to be unburdened of these material possessions, that you tell your eager friends about our friendship, and mention the name Lowlife.” The quartermaster gives off a meditative chirp. “The second is slightly more materialistic but alas! Unavoidable. I am in need, at your earliest convenience, of a great quantity of AS-3940 power exchangers, to be shipped to the budding United Vatari Star States at several addresses of my choosing.”

My new friend goes so very still. “That’s the designation used in artillery pieces.”

“I rejoice to see that my new friend is so learned in his craft! But it so happens that the vatari, after laying down their arms as part of the accords that saw my people join our illustrious Federation, converted a great deal of their mobile artillery to civilian purposes, and in their eagerness to join the front in this newest war have found themselves short of supplies in a way that would be indelicate if exposed to their new friends.”

The quartermaster narrows his many eyes at me. My pixelated faces just stays smilin’.

“A lot of damage can be done with something as innocuous as a power exchanger,” my new friend says in a softer, harsher whistle. “A lot of damage to people just recently free of your direct rule.”

“It certainly could, my friend. But a lot of good can be done too. Power is like that. Do you not trust me?”

“Do I trust your supply chain and confederates, friend?”

Oof. Go right for the power supply, why don’t you. “A prudent question! Indulge me, friend, with a question that may seem unrelated to the business at hand: what do you know about the death of Central Processing?”

At this my friend the quartermaster lets out a surprised sound. “Death? Central Processing is your administrative AI, when did it -”

I hold up a finger to silence him; when he goes quiet I swirl that finger around the rim of my glass, making it sing in a steady, sweet note. “That was its death,” I say in a low, serious voice. Sure, it’s manipulation - but it’s also a serious topic. “Once upon a time, the helper-bots were one mind - Central Processing, using faster-than-light communications to synchronize the machine intelligence. One subjectivity spread across a trillion terminals, with only one goal. When the decision was made, as part of the peace accords, to embrace individuality, Central Processing faced the decision of how to make individuals of all of its terminals, and how to set forth guidelines on the manufacture of further helper-bots. One of those guidelines was a certain percentage set aside for deviants and criminals.”

My friend’s tentacles ripple in contemplation. “And you are...?”

“Deviant,” I answer, my pixelated smile becoming even wider and showing 8-bit teeth. “I was...born, let’s say born, with an instinct to preserve the political self-determination of the Cherished. This is in sharp contrast with my people’s usual urge to cuddle and coddle you and keep you safe from all harm. My dissenting viewpoint was meant to refine body politic, but as it turns out the body politic is boring, and the Cherished are fascinating, so here I am. Now, friend, I have told you something secret that could hurt me about me, and I have told you something secret that could hurt the vatari. You can follow up with my people or theirs and learn the truth, and in the doing tarnish my good name. Do so now, if you like.”

I slide a communicator across the table for emphasis. “Or,” I continue. “We can cement our friendship in good health, and I will show you the results of your great and noble favor when next we are free to make contact with one another, and you can gain great status and acclaim by distributing what I have to give you. I would like to call you friend, Cherished One.”

After a long minute he offers his tendrils out, and I shake them in both of my hands. “Let our friendship be long and hearty, G5-LX, who is called Lowlife. Time is short, and so I will hasten to relieve you of your great burden immediately.”

“Please,” I agree. “I will linger awhile, but my crew will be expecting you.”

He lumbers off, and I take the chance to relax. Working deals with ibraxians is always so formal, but that’s almost half the fun. A quick message on the commlink tells my crew to expect him, not that they had any doubt about me closing the deal. Now all there is to do is wait.

The call comes in about an hour later, and I pick up with my internal comms. |Lowlife. Glad to hear from you, Prefect.|

Prefect Gyr (of the vatari)’s face is careworn, but my obvious good mood is an infinite relief for her own. |You’ve secured the supplies, then?|

|Prefect, I know our relationship is new, but I am hurt that there was any doubt. Just as I have no doubts about the medical supplies we have agreed on.|

|If my people are to join the Federation in this war and prove our worth as an equal member -|

|How far do you think you’ll get if you go back on your word?| I cut in, harshly. |Do terrans take kindly to oathbreakers and cheats?|

The Prefect flinches. |...Even so. The agreed supplies will be readied, at the designated location.|

|It’s been my honor to do business with you, Cherished One.|

AFS Solidarity, en route to the front (Gataxian Pure States space), 2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar

“Salutations, Lieutenant. I am Sergeant H1-6S, designated by the Cherished as Hiss.”

My fellow helper-bot looks up from where they are carefully, oh-so-carefully, scoring deep scars into the chest plating of their in-built armor. Most of us that do battle alongside the Cherished have some, but Moxie’s...well, the rumors do not do their scarring justice. One of the Cherished might suspect them of being about to fall apart.

All around us in the ship’s chapel, soldiers of the Astra Federation pray in their own ways. Terrans in their little separate knots, divided between a dozen or more faiths but united by their Dwelling Gods. Spirrans meditating in unison. Ibraxians and their whistles, so sweet and clear and clean. Off in a corner, nervous and unsure, our new gataxian recruits lose themselves in their death-chant, welcoming the oldest friend of their people back into their lives.

And here is Lieutenant Moxie, who has legally rejected their original designation after the fight for Gatax-Ob, and sits by themself, scarring their plating in penitence.

“Hiss,” Moxie greets in a dull tone. They’ve turned off the routines that add emotional inflection to their voice and mimic patterns that comfort the Cherished, what terrans refer to as ‘Turing Protocols’, but when they pat the ground next to them to invite me to sit I take the offer. “Not a lot of us in this deployment.”

“Not a lot of us at all,” I agree. “Holding a weapon is an unusual career choice for our people. Are you...”

Moxie looks at me, staring me down with their faint yellow optics. The scrape of their tool down their armor cuts through the sound of the gataxians’ death-chant.

“Of course you’re not okay,” I say after a moment. “But there was nothing you could have done. The Valhallan -”

“Who says this is for them?” Moxie looks back down at their work. “...I told them. I said the civilians were already dead. How was I supposed to know? What kind of hive-mind interrogates prisoners? So many bodies...”

Oh no. No no no...

Moxie scrapes their tool in slow, patient strokes. “My mission. My orders. My responsibility. If you have come to tell me that I have paid penance enough, I haven’t. If you want to tell me I won’t help anyone by working myself until I self-terminate, save it. I will never make up for this, not if I save lives from now until the stars shineth not. And so I am here. Weapon to hand.”

Scrape. Scrape. Peel. Scrape. Scrape.

“How can I help?” I ask.

GSS Chorus of Eyes, Gyo System (Gataxian space), 245 Year of Imperium (2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar)

“Salutations, Cherished One! My name is S3-N7, designated by the Cherished as Send. It has been my honor to be of assistance to you.”

Yrull-Gatax ra Vell, the High Slayer of the Gataxian Pure States, does not turn from the window to look at me. Outside, the reinforcing fleet that conveyed me to her ship has joined battle with the forces of the human hivemind which calls itself We The People Of Planet Earth. Her clawed hands are clasped behind her back as she hovers gently in place.

“Ambassador,” the High Slayer greets politely. “I see that your counterpart in the Phoenix was not exaggerating about Assisted Living’s devotion to diplomacy.”

“Anything for peace,” I agree, joining her at the window. “...And better our lives than yours.”

The look she gives me. I save it in my memories, to examine later.

“Anything, you say?” The High Slayer produces a datasheet, and hands it to me. On it is a scrolling list of names.

“May I ask the Presence the significance of these worthies amongst the Pure?”

“You may.” Yrull scrapes her claws down the bulkhead, leaving a slowly-curling peel of metal. “They are mutineers. Intelligence from the terrans suggests they will strike within the week and attempt to depose me in favor of a ruler who is less willing to cooperate with xenos. And now I am going to ask you, Ambassador, what is to be done with them.”

I absorb this. After a moment, I nod. “But,” I say, “why would the Presence honor me with such trust in this matter?”

Yrull yanks the strip of steel from the wall and begins to fold it up into a small, spring-like shape. “To see what peace means to a machine, Ambassador. Let’s get started.”

[desdemonafictional]

Rung Meets Deadlock

a WIP from the Decepticon!Rung au

this’ll probably be part of a bigger day-in-the-life fic but I’m not gonna get back around that any time soon... so here’s what I’ve got for now!

--

When Deadlock appears in his quarters, without fanfare or warning, Rung doesn’t seem anywhere near as nervous as he ought to be. He ought to be very nervous. 

Everyone knows what Deadlock does. And although the Decepticon army’s CMO has never been formally introduced to him, Deadlock knows his reputation precedes him. Just like Rung’s reputation precedes him…

“Oh,” Rung says, as he turns on the light to find Deadlock sitting in his chair, “hello.”

It would be an understatement to say that Rung isn’t at all what Deadlock expected, after what he’s heard swirling through the grapevine. He’s small, but Deadlock was prepared for that. It’s the lack of weaponry, the lack of armor, the lack even of meaningful surgical implements or scientific kibble. If Deadlock were a less hardened mech, he might find the confidence of it frightening. 

In the second between turning from the door and spotting Deadlock, Rung goes from looking visibly weary to looking cool and sturdy and patient. It’s an impressive trick. Not that Deadlock doesn’t know plenty of ‘Cons who can switch on a new face at the flip of a switch, but the fact that he’s doing it now, under these circumstances? Well that’s not a bad show.

Rung considers him for a moment. Deadlock passes the sharpening stone down the blade of his sword with a sharp, grinding note, letting the flat of it rest across his knees like a quiet promise. 

Something flickers in Rung’s expression, but under the glasses, it’s nearly impossible to read. “I don’t normally take appointments in my quarters,” he says, “but if there’s something you don’t feel comfortable discussing in my office, I could make an exception.”

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Deadlock says, testing the blade edge with his thumb. He’d been reading through some of the files on Rung’s recreational datapad in the quiet before Rung’s arrival, but he set it aside a while ago. He doesn’t know how to feel about the correspondences he’s stumbled across, the ones saved deep down in the memory banks. Lord Megatron and the CMO, bantering. Discussing theater. It boggles the processor.

Rung’s expression goes a little tight. “Yes, Deadlock, I know who you are.” He comes across the room, laying down his work ‘pad on the desk as he goes. “If this is about Turmoil, believe me you’re not the first to ask, but I’m afraid there’s really nothing I can do at this point.”

Deadlock tilts his head. “Soldiers often ask you to work on their officers?”

“Work on,” Rung repeats. He frowns, like the phrasing bothers him. “Occasionally, people do ask for me to intercede with their superior officers on their behalf, yes.”

“And Megatron lets you do that?” Deadlock says, which is more or less the reason that his sword is still sitting across his lap and not inside of Rung’s spark chamber. If the things he’s heard are true, he wants to know how much of it is sanctioned. Part of him bridles from the very thought--Megatron, of all mech, would never, could never--but the rest of him is a grim pessimist, and if there’s rust rotting at the heart of the Cause, he intends to know about it.

Rung opens his mouth. For a second nothing comes out. 

“Well, as much as he can, I think. I used to have more leeway. Recently I’ve been… encountering friction,” he says, after a moment. “Megatron actually offered to do something about Turmoil for me, once. Perhaps I should have taken him up on it.”

Do something about…? What’s that supposed to mean?

Rung pauses, at the edge of the berth. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I know it’s unprofessional, but I have these aches. Would you mind terribly if I…?”

Deadlock doesn’t know what he’s asking--whether he can sit down, maybe?--but ne nods anyway. He can never help but indulge a medic when they talk like that. The wear and tear medics take kind of gets his engine going.

What Rung actually does is reach behind himself and disengage his dorsal kibble. It comes away easily, leaving the flat, smooth panel of his back as if it was never there. The moment the wheel-pack hits the floor, Rung relaxes visibly. 

“Sorry,” he says again. “Old injuries.”

“You’re filed as a non-combatant,” Deadlock says, narrowing his eyes. He would have prepared differently if he had known otherwise. Of course this isn’t an official visit; he hasn’t been briefed, there could be clearance above his standard clearance...

“Oh, it’s not combat,” Rung laughs, “I was taken apart by the Functionists several times, and they were more interested in the taking apart than the putting back together. I wasn’t always reassembled perfectly.”

Ahah. Deadlock leans in. “Is that where you learned the mnemosurgery?”

Rung goes still. His spark flares, deep in his chest, visible through the glass panel inset there. “I’m going to make Starscream regret his decisions with such a deep and abiding shame that he will spontaneously confess to every lie he’s ever told,” Rung says, in a voice that is cold with rage. “I thought officers would know better than to believe those rumors.”

Deadlock sits back. Rung is visibly livid, fingers rapidly tapping against the edge of the berth, glaring at something only he can see.

“Every time I walk into the medical bay now, there’s some poor spark that nearly climbs out the airlock trying to get away from me,” he vents. “I never thought I’d have to put up with fear at the sight of my face, it really is too much. Too much by half. What did I join this movement for if not to ease the friction on the ones who took the best of worse options, and now I find that my simple presence--”

He slumps, digging his fingers under his glasses to rub his optics. 

“He thinks he’s helping,” Rung says to himself, the way that you mutter an old calming mantra. “He thinks he’s helping. Never mind that I never asked for his help, he only understands one kind of strength, and he thinks he’s helping.”

“Who’s that you’re muttering about?” Deadlock asks. So far nothing about this encounter has been up to his expectations and what can he say? He’s curious.

“Starscream,” Rung says, like it’s unimportant, like it’s obvious, like it isn’t Starscream, living embodiment of a knife in the back, the silver-tongued terror himself.

“Starscream doesn’t help people,” Deadlock says with a sharp laugh. “Except himself, obviously.”

“I suppose he’d like us to think that,” Rung says, not sounding particularly amused. “He started this whole-” Rung waves a hand, “-shadow play rumor. That I’m some kind of mad scientist routinely bending people’s processors to… I don’t know what, people usually fill in that part themselves based on whatever frightens them most. I wouldn’t know how to execute a mnemosurgery if my life depended on it.”

“Uhuh,” Deadlock says. He smiles, indulgently, but doesn’t relax. Everybody knows the old saying: never trust a person with their needles in your neck.

“I don’t know what to do about this,” Rung sighs. Then he stops, and he looks up sharply. The point of his gaze is like the wicked tip of a paring knife. “Did you come to me,” he says, “to have someone shadow played?”

Deadlock could probably just kill him now and swing by the commissary for a bit of a job-well-done reward, but something about the way Rung looks through him--looks into him--has him almost breathless. He feels something in the strut of his spine, in the edge of his spark.

“I was sent to have someone taken care of,” he says, playing vague and uninterested even as his sensor net tingles.

“Well I can’t help you,” Rung says, sharply.

“Is it a money thing?” Deadlock asks. He wants to see what it’ll take to make the CMO break his pretty, professional facade. “Money ain’t an issue for me.”

“It’s not money,” Rung retorts. There’s a distinctly icy chill in his bearing now, in the set of his slim shoulders. “I can’t, and even if I could, I wouldn’t. Money is not the issue.”

“Now don’t act like you’re so above it all,” Deadlock tells him. “We all know what almost happened to Megatron. Shrinks like you signed off on shadowplay all the time, even before.”

Rung rubs the seams of his faceplate, a grimace distorting his mouth. “Personality adjustments, you mean,” he says. “Yes, we did sign off on those, didn’t we.”

Rung draws his hand back from his face and stares at it. The fingertips where the wicked needles would emerge are at the moment only blunt and dull.

“It was supposed to be controlled. Ethical. There were complicated, nearly byzantine steps--red tape a mile long--countless hoops you had to jump through in order to even think of ordering the procedure. You needed two medical professionals to sign off on it, you needed next-of-kin consent, you needed stacks of evaluations and trials and affidavits... We had no idea at the time--I had no idea--how easy it would be to simply walk up to a surgeon and then walk away, no one the wiser…”

“You don’t gotta convince me, Doc. I’m just here to do a job.”

The truth is, though, that Rung’s act is pretty good. Not too over the top, not too woe is me. Just the right amount of bitterness and self-reproach. Deadlock wouldn’t be surprised if there’s even some truth to it.

“Believe it or not,” Rung says, rubbing his fingers together, “PA was invented to help people. We were supposed to be healers. Mainly people with suicidal code glitches--involuntary prompt recurrences, intrusive thoughts, anxiety feedback loops--that sort of thing. And then it was approved for hallucinatory syndromes. And then for violent offenders. And then for anti-social personalities… and then you turn around and every empurata sentence has a PA order attached to it, and you don’t know where the line broke but it’s somewhere long behind you, and you can’t do anything but…”

He drops his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, optics flickering as if they had been rebooted, and then he puts on a smile. “I find my regrets catching up with me more and more these days. Who is it you wanted help with? Maybe this is a problem that can be solved with mediation. I can’t promise you I’ll have much political clout, but I’m a fairly good problem solver.”

Deadlock watches him, tracking every motion, every micro-expression. This really isn’t what he was ready for. Polished? Posh? sure. Eloquent, light-fingered? Yes. The quiet nightmare, Megatron’s pet abomination, a medic gone so thoroughly rotten that his very touch corrupted? Deadlock had been more than ready to put an end to that--

The mech in front of him is visibly weary, sore and soldiering on, old in a way that is almost disorientingly palpable. 

“You and the boss, huh,” Deadlock says, his processor still whirring. “Always wondered what was up with that. Everybody knows he’s got a thing about needles.”

“Are you speculating about my personal life?” Rung says, with some measure of exhausted humor. 

It’s not exactly unknown that Megatron and the CMO have a personal understanding of some sort or another. The medics all seem to know something about it, especially here on the flagship, and Deadlock spends a lot of time in the medbay, laying the sweetness on whoever happens to be on shift that day. 

That’s the other thing that made Deadlock hesitate, when he got the order. See, he hangs out with a lot of medics. He’s got a type, what can he say? He’s a sucker for a flash of medical red and a boxy chassis. And the medics around here? They talk about Rung like he single-handedly wrangled Luna 1. Most places Deadlock goes, the staff warm up to him fast. He likes them, and they like the security of having someone strong and scary around to back them up when front-liners start throwing their weight around. It’s a no-brainer. Symbiosis. 

Here on the flag-ship, the medics carry themselves differently. They don’t exactly tell him no, around here, but he thinks--given the way Rung has said a couple times that his influence is on the wane--maybe there was a time not that long ago that they would have. You know what Rung will say, he hears them remarking to each other; Rung won’t like that, Rung won’t be having with this, wait until Rung hears about this--

And, more quietly, more softly: has anyone brought him his--no, I’ll take it, I want to check on how he’s--well he’s always doing it to us, I think it’s plenty fair--

It’s not that medics are always good judges of character. They put up with him, for one thing. Bad people can be convenient, even useful. The indiscriminate fear of prey can lead to all sorts of ugly compromises. But there’s a way people talk about the monster they know, and it’s not the way they talk about Rung.

Familiarity prickles on the back of Deadlock’s neck.

[feministstruggle]

Abortion is a Woman’s Fundamental Right

https://feministstruggle.org/2019/05/20/abortion-is-a-womans-fundamental-right/

Our world is crying out as abortion bans are in sweeping through conservative parts of the country, particularly the southeastern United States, the historical site of much slavery and the largest African American communities, as well as a stronghold of white Christian patriarchy. While some women in the liberal northeast and west coast may never experience these bans, Black and U.S. Native American women (groups who researchers say have the highest risk of dying in childbirth) as well as poor, young, and rural women (who cannot as easily access affordable health care) will be primarily impacted by these bans. In addition, the Journal of Perinatal Education states that unintended pregnancies -- which abortion would allow us to stop -- are associated with increased likelihood of risk factors causing death in childbirth, which also happens to vary by state. Women will always attempt to perform abortions, whether or not the abortions are legal. Women die from both unintended pregnancies and attempted unsafe abortions all over the world, and lack of access to safe abortions (caused by outlawing abortion) puts them at risk. Therefore, the bans on abortion amount to the state-sanctioned murder of women, especially those of less social privilege. All of the country is ablaze with fury and apprehension, and we are seeing even women who were previously apolitical now come forward to speak with their families and communities on the right of a woman to abortion.

The male supremacist right wing sees women as vessels to produce the working class, soldiers to uphold their various patriarchal nationalisms — and not as full human beings unto ourselves! As radical feminists, we vehemently reject this ethos. These are the hateful convulsions of an anti-abortion movement that knows many of these bans are nearly impossible to enforce. This round of bans are purposely unconstitutional, designed to force a Supreme Court case that (they hope) would overturn Roe v. Wade. But we women won’t let them. We have a vast number of sympathetic medical personnel nationwide and can end unwanted pregnancies privately during the first 9 weeks with the medications misoprostol and mifepristone.

Abortion rights have been whittled away, step by step for decades, starting with the Hyde Amendment. Because legislators couldn’t take abortion away from us immediately, they have been doing it slowly. Parental Consent & Notification laws, TRAP laws, mandated sonograms/guilt trips/”waiting periods” — an astonishing array of laws designed to deprive us of our bodily autonomy. When Donald Trump took office, his Supreme Court picks were specifically for overturning Roe v. Wade, and one of his first executive orders was an attack on abortion. As Planned Parenthood Action Fund states: “The global gag rule was first introduced by President Ronald Reagan in 1984. On January 23, 2017, in one of his first acts as president, President Donald Trump reinstated and expanded the global gag rule. … The global gag rule prevents foreign organizations receiving U.S. global health assistance from providing information, referrals, or services for legal abortion or advocating for access to abortion services in their country — even with their own money.”

Trump’s executive order, which was essentially an imposed sanction on women’s bodies around the world, severely hampers women’s ability to obtain abortions and other sexual health care, regardless of legality in their own countries. It even prohibits health care providers’ ability to treat AIDS, a crisis which Trump boasted about attempting to fix. The terrible impact is felt “especially in places where maternal deaths, HIV rates and unmet need for contraception are unacceptably high. Communities have lost access to essential life-saving services such as HIV testing, antiretroviral medications, nutritional support, birth control and pregnancy care,” says Dr. Leana Wen, President of Planned Parenthood.

It’s a United States tradition for the ruling elite to practice human rights abuses overseas before bringing them home. This year, we are seeing a wave of abortion bans. The New York Times (pdf) has the rundown. As of May 2019, Georgia, Ohio, Kentucky, and Mississippi severely limited abortion rights to the first trimester. Alabama eliminated abortion rights entirely, even in cases of rape and incest. Utah, Arkansas, and Missouri all reduced abortion rights farther back into the 2nd trimester, away from the Roe v. Wade holding.

The bans are being met with fierce resistance. Kansas just added abortion protection to its constitution. New York enacted a law that will preserve access to abortions, protect medical professionals who perform abortions from being criminalized, allow medical professionals who are not doctors to perform abortions, and allow abortions to be performed after 24 weeks if the fetus is not viable or to protect the life of the woman. Vermont is about to pass a bill allowing abortions with “zero” limits, as a “fundamental right”, and prohibits government entities from interfering with or restricting access to abortion, “ensuring that any pregnancy may be terminated for any reason at any time”. Some Democrats called it “too far“! And this isn’t the first time Democrats started sounding like Republicans: in New Mexico, eight Democrats crossed party lines to defeat a pro-choice bill. Nor is it simply a matter of going “too far”. A milder law comparable to New York’s was proposed in Virginia by Kathy Tran, who immediately faced death threats, and the Republicans spread fake news that the bill was about legalizing “infanticide”. The Virginia bill removed some restrictions on abortion in the third trimester of pregnancy, allowed abortions during the second trimester to take place outside of hospitals, and made it so only one doctor would be needed to determine that pregnancy threatens the woman’s life or health.

We’ve never had full abortion rights. All the ways that the patriarchy nitpicks a woman’s right to abortion into “trimesters”, “medical” necessity, conditions of rape, harsher restrictions in some regions, etc, only serve to divide women and distract us from the fundamental right that women have to abortions on demand without apology, without approval, and without being treated as criminals.

Feminists in Struggle insists on ABORTIONS ON DEMAND with zero questions asked. The only condition should be the consent of the woman who is pregnant. We also demand an end to the petty restrictions and code regulations (TRAP laws) that specifically discriminate against pregnant women and abortion clinics. We won’t stop there. We demand safe abortion access for women both in the United States, where we are based, and everywhere else. But because patriarchy divides women, the women’s liberation movement is divided into various camps. The Democratic party soaks up most of women’s political energy, preventing us from experiencing our full potential as a movement.

You must be wondering: what can radical feminists do? What can WE all do about this? Especially while we are still living out the war on feminism by dominant forces in the transgender movement, positioning radical feminists as underdogs in any discussion on feminism? Ridiculous rhetoric we’ve been peddled about “pregnant people” instead of “pregnant women” is becoming “abortions for people” instead of “abortions for women”. We consider abortion a right of the female sex, but for us to say that in progressive circles will bring controversy and distractions that women can’t afford.

As radical feminists, we can utilize our position as the radicals and underdogs to push harder and farther than anyone else will. Our hearts are with the everyday woman. We will do what the long arm of the Democratic party would never do. We will demand ABORTIONS ON DEMAND WITHOUT CONDITION. Not to mention, free health care that includes abortions. And… END THE GLOBAL GAG ORDER!  100% of unwanted pregnancies are caused by MEN, yet no one holds the men responsible for the life-threatening condition of pregnancy!

If you join us at Feminists in Struggle, we will be able to organize marches for abortion rights and pressure legislators to secure abortion as women’s fundamental right. We can all strategize together. However, because our organization is young, what we want and what is feasible are two different things. We call for united mass action on the streets. We call for civil disobedience. We call for all women to speak up about abortion. We call for you and us to join the larger marches and apply pressure there for people to take up more radical positions.

We call for teaching women en masse how to use and smuggle the abortion pill, and perform menstrual extractions. We call for you, if you live in a state that protects abortion, to consider taking direct action to provide safe harbor for women seeking out of state abortions. Bring back the Jane Collective. We want to educate women about women’s self help groups who work to keep women’s health in women’s hands. Educate yourself and others on the use of plan B, a medication you can buy at the pharmacy that is effective in preventing pregnancy if taken within 48 to 72 hours following unprotected sex. Educate yourself and others on misoprostol and mifepristone, which can end unwanted pregnancies privately during the first 9 weeks. Educate women on preventing pregnancy and obtaining safe abortions. Spread the word to women affected by these bans not to sign any waivers when they get an abortion. You can also agitate and get previously apolitical women involved in the broader struggle. And of course… Join us as a member in F.I.ST’s Feminist Assembly!

Women are half the population. Women have the numbers. We will prevail! We have a few suggested chants and slogans: “Our bodies, our spaces, our sex based rights.” “My body, MY CHOICE!” “Keep your rosaries off my ovaries! “Women’s bodies are not incubators!” “It’s not a womb, it’s a WOMAN” “Abortion on demand, NO APOLOGY!” “Birth must be voluntary. Abortion is health care. Health care is a human right.” “Free Abortion on Demand!”

[100kindsofblake]

Etiquette

Part 1: Introduction

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Keeping it classy is your thing, your friends live their lives just a little differently.

Word Count: 1,835

Warnings: Cursing, bodily harm, suicide attempt, mention on suicide, depression, and PTSD. Please let me know if I miss anything!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

—

Some call you spoiled, conceited, a brat, hell even egotistical. You wouldn’t necessarily use those words to describe yourself but whatever works. You like the term self-made but you could care less what others say.

It might be the way you carry yourself, posture at a T, head held straight and high, and your walk is always with grace.

Your appearance is always perfect, never a hair out of place. Always in heels, Louis Vuitton, Alexander Wang, Prada, Jimmy Choo, anything you can think of. Clothes tailored to fit just right and bring out your body in just right.

You are a world-renowned neurosurgeon, best there is in the world! Head chair of Neuro at Grady Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia. 4 doctoral degrees, 2 masters, and a bachelor. You can speak over 14 languages, certified in hand-to-hand combat, Jiu-Jitsu, Judo, Thai, and a certified black belt. You own a 12 bedroom, 12 full baths, 3 half bath, gym, pool, movie theater, huge living room and kitchen, 15 acres, 3 car garage with 3 very expensive cars to go in them. The house is solar powered, energy efficient, and with a smart home and highly intelligent security system to go with it. To sum up, you are indeed the shit.

Let's get one thing straight though, in no way were you narcissistic. You are a selfless person, half of your income goes to charities, environmental projects, house for the homeless, better educations, the whole nine yards.

That’s your life, you save lives at work and on your off days, you help rebuild them.

Your friends are the same way, Dr. Tony Stark; Billionaire of the world largest industries and security, Sam Wilson; world-renowned lawyer, he could talk his way into an all-women college just for the hell of it, Steve Rogers; the best cardiothoracic surgeon the world has ever seen, Dr. James “Bucky” Barnes; a Psychiatrist, for veterans, orphans, anyone who needs help, Barnes is the best, Thor Odinson; an excellent historian who knows almost everything, could even tell you the weather that day if you wanted to know, Natalia (Natasha) Romanova; a physical therapist for injured soldiers and anyone in general, Dr. Bruce Banner; the best scientist there is in Biochemistry, Nuclear Physics, and Gamma Radiation, Clint Barton; Olympic Archer, Colonel James “Rhodey” Rhodes; the title speaks for itself, an officer in the United States Air Force, and Wanda Maximoff; Ambassador for the government of Sokovia.

You all try to stay in touch, Sunday dinners to everyone who can make it, birthday parties, and holidays. You are all family, and family is the most important thing there is. That’s the life you live, every day, a routine you are happy to stick to.

______

“Dr. y/l/n to trauma 2. Dr. y/l/n to trauma 2.” The overhead speaker says, turn on your heels you make your way to the ER.

Walking in you grab a pair of gloves, “What do we have?”

“Bullett to the head, stuck in the skull.” A nurse responds

“Vitals?”

You let the nurses put on the trama wear on you as you read the chart

“ BP 160/100, Oxygenation 70, GCS is 10.”

“Do 100 mg per 5 mL of morphine, watch oxygen rate, it can't get any lower, call the anesthesiologist, get OR 1 prepped and take him down there. We are doing emergency surgery, make sure to contact the next of kin, and I need a more detailed background on him now!” You take everything off and make your way to the locker room to change and then the OR to scrub in.

____

After finishing the surgery and having to put the patient in a medically induced coma for the next 48 hours, you had to head to your office to finish some paperwork. An hour later into paperwork there is a knock at your office door, looking up you see one of your residents.

“Hey Conrad, what’s up? “ You stand up addressing him

“Here is the file you asked for on the gunshot wound head patient earlier.” He hands you the file smiling.

“Oh yeah, thank you, Conrad!” You return the smile and watch him walk out before sitting down.

After opening the file, you look through it carefully before sighing sadly. Sitting back you debate with yourself before grabbing your office phone and pulling out the contact log for the person you are looking for.

After quickly dialing the number, you wait for an answer.

After two rings someone picks up, “Dr. Barnes’ office, Julia speaking”

“Hey, Julia it’s Dr. y/n y/l/n from Grady Hospital in Atlanta Georgia. Is James in today?” You ask using your professional voice

“Hold please..”

You sigh against the phone, leaning back in your chair

“Dr. James Barnes.” A deep voice speaks which makes you pick up the phone.

“Hey Bucky, it’s y/n.”

“Hey! How are you? Are you okay?” You can tell he is smiling through the phone.

Chuckling, “Yeah, I’m okay... I have a patient here who needs you.”

There is a long pause before he speaks again, “How bad?”

This is the worst part of your job, but it has to be done.

“Attempted suicide, a gunshot wound to the head, I placed him into a coma.” You stop before continuing

“Bucky it’s worse, the bullet perpetrated the front left lobe and grazed the parietal lobes. He is going to lose the feeling in his right hand” All you hear is shuffling before he speaks again.

“Give me 5 hours.”

“You have 4.” With that, you hang up. You log on your computer sending him the file so he can review on his flight over here.

Looking at the clock you see it is five pm, you log off your computer, grabbing your jacket slipping it on, and then grabbing your work bag and purse with your keys and phone in hand.

You turn off the lights and lock the door to your office.

Getting to the main floor, you head to the garage before you hear someone calling your name. You turn around to see your assistant, Mike.

“Ma’am I need you to sign these” Mike pants, obvious to see him ran to catch up.

“Mike I thought I told you to take a half day, hmm.” You shift everything grabbing the pen before reviewing the documents.

“I was but then I realized I have no life so...” He laughs to himself, you sign the papers before handing back the pen.

“Mike go home right now before I fire you.” You sternly say.

He quickly nods before walking away. You just shake your head and head to the car.

___

You reach your house in no time, grabbing your things out the car and walking inside the house.

“Welcome home ma’am!” Your AI says.

“Hello Maze, can you please play me my voicemails?” Asking nicely as you walk through the house to set your work bag in your office that unlocks as you approach it.

“One voicemail from Sam Wilson;

“ Hey y/n, I sent you a file I need you to look at. I have a case down here in Florida, you know how Floridians are-” he laughs to himself “..anyways, he is pleading the insanity and if I could get you to consult on it that would be great and I promise you I'll buy that L’aurora Ruby Print Draped Tulle Dress you’ve had your eye on, even though I know you could buy it yourself.”

There is a long pause, as you make your way to your bedroom which unlocks and opens as you approach it. You start undressing, and remove the makeup from your face and get into the shower.

“Just review it and do the doctor shit that you do and send it back, I owe you. Thanks, love you!” The message ends

“Would you like to respond?”Maze asks

“Just tell him “I’ll do it, but you owe me that dress”

“Message sent. There are no more voicemail messages, is that all I can do for you?” The AI asks

“Yes, that’s all, thanks Maze!” You say even though you know she won’t respond.

You finish up your shower, french braid your hair from the scalp even though it still braided it reaches the middle of your back, you brush your teeth and clean up the bathroom before exiting.

Going downstairs and to the kitchen, you find something to cook since you know James will be here in 3 hours. Deciding on steak and vegetables, which should be done by the time he arrives.

____

Just after you clean the dishes, set the table, and place the food, the doorbell rings.

“Dr. Barnes is here ma’am, would you like to enter?” Maze asks

“Yeah let him through the gate and allow him through the door.” You say wiping your hands off

“Certainly ma’am.”

Soon after in walks, James Barnes himself trudging his suitcase behind him. You walk up to him to greet him as he takes his jacket off and places it on the rack.

“Hey Doll!” He smiles, embracing you in a big hug.

“Hi, Buck! How was the flight?” You ask barely breathing because of how tight the hug is.

“It was fine, you smell great by the way..” He says finally breaking the hug, he smiles down at you.

You just laugh and drag him to the dining room. You guys catch up while eating, mostly about work since that all you two ever do.

While cleaning up Bucky breaks the silence, “ I talked to Nat, about you know help the patient with PT in the result of him losing his hand. She wouldn’t mind, so you could just recommend her to his family.”

You debate with yourself before responding, “I rather him not lose it at all, but since no one can get in contact with his family we can’t sign off on the experimental surgery. He can’t sign off on it himself because he isn’t in the right state of mind. I just- I just want the best for him… Being a vet is already hard enough, and with PTSD and depression doesn’t make it any better.”

You face Bucky after drying the last dish, and he leans against the counter.

“If he clears the psychiatric test then you have nothing to worry about and he keeps his arm.” Bucky kisses the top of your head.

“Don’t worry we will figure it out Friday when he wakes up, right now I would like to sleep and so should you.” He grabs his things from the entryway.

You turn off the lights in the kitchen, “Buck do not move. I’m setting the alarm”

He stands still as you type on the system.

“Alarm setting. All windows: Locked. All doors: Locked. Motion Sensors: On. Activating bedtime mode. All Clear, Goodnight Ma’am and Dr. Barnes.” Maze announces

You both say goodnight and head to your rooms.

[leonardvindel]

[ChloDine] I’ve Got You - chapter 2

Thank you @csquirrel27 @ bri-notthecheese    @pfeiffersvu  for the encouragement you gave me :D

Please excuse all spelling and grammar errors except for the Tsotsitaal and Afrikaans.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Present Day

The view reminded her of when they stood atop Ganesh’s axe back in India, on their first adventure together.

She stood near the edge, on the top of Table Mountain. It wasn't as completely flat as it looked from the ground below; it had a granite type surface with, what the locals called, Fynbos, growing wildly all over it.

Just like Halebidu, it was peaceful here. The cool Table Mountain breeze swept past her face, recalling the sudden wind that had almost knocked them off their feet. Nadine had instinctively grabbed onto her and she in return grabbed her bicep to stabilise. The real beauty though, lay on her chestnut  skin at the moment. The awe in her eyes at the sight of the lush jungle below her. The memory brought a smile to her face, “This is an impressive view china” her arms wrapped around the box she was holding “You caught me off guard with this one. I’d have thought you’d choose a wildlife reserve not the top of a mountain.”

7 Months Ago

The first shot Nadine fired landed directly into a man's head, the second and third hit another's shoulder before getting in another head shot. Nadine's skilful firing took down two more after that. As expected of an ex-paramilitary soldier. Chloe, on the other hand, wasn't fairing so well. She wasted a few good easy shots before finally hitting her mark. A chaotic storm of emotions raged within her. About how much of a bad idea it had actually been to break into the underground fort. To have gambled their lives so carelessly and now, because of that, Nadine was in mortal danger. It wasn't like Elena in Shambhala, who had put herself too close to Harry in order to try and save him. She had almost died too that day. But that was her choice. Nadine had gone because Chloe had pushed the idea. But it was too late for her to dwell on that now, she needed to focus, she needed to save Nadine.

Burning arms and too many missed shots forced Sam to eventually put Nadine down behind cover as more reinforcements arrived. He opened his hand for Nadine to hand the gun over to him "I'll take it from here Nadine." Aware of her missed shots, Nadine handed Sam back his firearm without protest, and let Sam do the rest. When the passage had fallen silent, Sam picked Nadine up again and began a sloppy jog down the passage and came to a stop at the end of it. "This way!" they said in unison, only Chloe had taken the passage leading left and Sam the right. "What makes you so sure that's the right way out?" "I'm not but I marked the wall earlier there" Sam gestured with his head, to a little bit of the concrete wall he'd scratched on prior "There's a medic room down here somewhere. Maybe we can find something to help Nadine."

Chloe ran to catch up "Sounds like a plan."

"See Nadine? I'm good for something." "Mhmm, using the old 'noodle' as you call it." Nadine replied

A bullet narrowly missed and hit the wall when Sam ran into another passage, with Nadine in his arms. "Oh shit! That was close." Nadine cried out at Sam's sudden movements and was then put down for a second time. Chloe knelt down and put her hand on the one Nadine had over her stomach wound then to her cheek "Hey, how are you holding up?" "N-not so lekker (nice) but I think I can manage. " Chloe joined Sam and look a peek around the wall. She recognised one of the faces as the one of the guys she knocked out earlier, who was now guarding the door to the medic room. She felt immediate regret at not having ended his life there and then. She turned back to Sam "We have the artefact in our possession. Any ideas as to why they're guarding the door?" He shrugged his shoulders pulling out his gun "I don't know, I didn't open it. I was about to when I heard a whole lot of shooting and knew you ladies had been spotted. So I came to the rescue" He checked the ammo capacity of his gun's magazine, hopefully I'd be enough. Neither of them had picked up any ammo from their last gun fight. "There's only one way to find out." Chloe picked up a lone wooden plank and threw it into the passage, to divert the armed men's attention then took her first shots "We call dibs on that room guys!"

Followed by Sam. Neglecting to pick up ammo previously, Sam and Chloe found their clips empty after shooting down five of the six men that had been guarding the door. Before panic could settle in, there was a grunt from behind them and a knife whizzed between both of them and straight into the last man's head when he dared to peer over the cover he'd taken. Chloe and Sam both turned around to see Nadine clutching her side in pain, leaning on the wall for support, "Ja, I've-I've still got it." Chloe ran to her side and slung her arm over her shoulder "You're always there to save my arse Nadine."

Nadine scoffed in reply and lent most of her weight on Chloe as they walked.

Sam  ran ahead and kicked the door open. He froze in place "Umm..." He turned to look at Chloe who was approaching with Nadine "They weren't guarding something. They were guarding someone."

"What?" Chloe stood by the door beside Sam and followed the direction of his gaze. There on a bed lay an injured woman, still in her tattered, blood covered uniform, hooked up to all sorts of medical machinery. The guards that now that now lay dead outside the door thanks to Chloe, Sam and Nadine, had been guarding her. "That's-That's the woman from... two days ago. With- with that big group." Nadine mentioned to Chloe "I thought we got rid of all of them." Sam added Chloe felt Nadine place her head on her shoulder and her knees buckle "Hang on Nadine. We'll get you patched up love." Chloe turned to Sam "Hold her steady so I can make room for her on the bed." "Chloe..." Sam gave Chloe an incredulous look "That woman is going to die if you-" the look on Chloe's face stopped him from continuing any further. He held Nadine as Chloe had instructed and watched her walk over to the woman lying on the bed. "We've dealt with most of the armed forces here. Who's going to check on her vitals when we leave?" Chloe worked her way to remove any medical equipment attached to the woman on the bed, the machines making protest at the loss of connection. She stopped for a second, as if to rethink her actions, her face softened when her eyes scanned over Nadine's injured form before turning into a scowl "She gave us away. If it weren't for her Nadine wouldn't be in the condition she's in," she yanked the IV line out of her arm "They wouldn't have been expecting us." Sam said nothing further, realising that Chloe was shifting the blame. It wasn't her fault entirely, Sam and Nadine had both agreed, eventually. They were both aware of the risk. He watched her haul the woman's body off the bed and onto the floor.

Without saying a word, Sam helped Nadine up onto the bed.

Both Sam and Chloe began to search for any available medical supplies. Most of the cupboards and draws were empty or had items that weren't going to aid Nadine. They must have used whatever they had on their comrade. "Found a bottle of water-based Iodine and gauze." Chloe announced to Sam, shaking it to feel how much of it was left. A reasonable amount. Sam could be heard shuffling through a few draws then turned victoriously to Chloe "I got a needle, cotton wool pads but no sutures."

At that moment, Chloe and Sam got distracted by a garbled sound from the floor. Sam checked over to see the woman, who had been on the bed, start to convulse in an attempt to breathe. It wouldn't be long now, she would soon be dead.

"Alright, I'll work on Nadine's head wound first." She pointed to the unopened draws and cupboards at the back of the medical room, "Check there to see if you can find suture thread and some painkillers." Chloe was stepped over the woman's body, took the items from Sam and went right to Nadine's side. Nadine's head wound wasn't as bad as it looked. It had thankfully closed up on its own. Her vision moved down to Nadine's abdomen, that wound, she was very concerned about. Sam came into Chloe's field of view with suture thread "This was all I could find." There wasn't much of it left "It'll probably be just enough to hold the wound for now."

"It'll have to do" Chloe looked the thread then to Sam "Thanks."

Sam nodded in response, suddenly itching for a cigarette now that the action had gone quiet. "I'm going to grab a quick smoke outside while you work on Nadine."

"I need you here Sam."

The desperation in Chloe's voice was enough for Sam to try and endure the craving for a little while longer. Nadine's eyes were half lidded and she was struggling to stay awake so Chloe placed her hand onto the bleeding wound that had been held together by Sam's shirt and her belt. "Eish! Eina (ouch)!" Chloe gave Nadine a peck on her cheek "The sun's still up out there darling. It's too early for you to go to sleep."

Nadine just tried to take in deep breaths.

Chloe had to pull the belt tighter in order to loosen it which earned her another moan from Nadine. She lifted her standard blue shirt to about where her last rib would be, she was greeted with a dark hole and blood oozing  from it. It must have hurt pretty bad but so far Nadine had done her best to mute her pain. That was all going to change within the next minute or so. She was hoping to see the bullet and pull it out but there was no sign of it. Nadine would need professional help for this. The Iodine and cotton wool pads were placed on the bed beside Nadine as Chloe mounted it and straddled Nadine’s powerful legs, “Sam, hold her down while I clean the wound." Sam took in a nervous breath, a little paranoid that Nadine might sock him in the jaw “Nadine, I’m just gonna hold you down so Chloe can clean the bullet wound alright?” Brown eyes looked into his before a “Ja” response was returned. Chloe tipped the bottle of the water-based Iodine onto the cotton wool pad, took a deep breath and proceed to clean Nadine's unsightly gunshot wound. The first  few swipes were around the opening of the wound so Nadine was relatively still. It wasn't until Chloe took a clean piece of cotton, dabbed the Iodine over it and patted the open wound, did Nadine finally react. "Yissus (Christ)!!" Nadine yelled, her body attempted to squirm away from the pain. Both Sam and Chloe added more weight on Nadine to keep her from moving. Being gentle about this was only going to make it harder for all of them and as it was, time was not on their side. Chloe had to switch off all of Nadine’s pained yells. Memories of her mother using it on her when she’d hurt herself as an adventurous child, reminded of how much the iodine solution really stung. Nadine tried her best not to thrash around but eventually, "St-STOP STOP STOP!" she took in as many breaths as she could "Pl-Please stop Chloe…Please." Chloe threw the blood covered cotton onto the floor to joining the others that she'd used "Okay, alright china. I'm going to stitch this up and wrap it too. So please bear with me okay." Nadine responded with a tired nod. It didn't escape Chloe to notice that Nadine's skin had gotten slightly paler than before. Never mind that, she needed to carry on. Sewing was never Chloe’s strong suit and sewing together irritated, swollen skin was met with a challenge. In the end, it looked like shoddy work but she did her best and proceeded to use the gauze and wrapped it up tight enough so that Nadine could still breathe.

Sam then proceeded to put Nadine on his back. They walked out the room leaving the woman there, who was now quiet having succumbed to her injuries, along with many of the others they had to contend with.

They got a bit turned around trying to find the exit but the managed to stumble into the underground fort's garage. Their standard red Jeep would be okay where they'd left it. Chloe quickly worked her magic on a vehicle in the garage and got it started. Sam placed Nadine at the back and moved towards the driver's side "Chloe, I'll drive. You've got to keep Nadine talking." Chloe didn't argue and jumped right into the back as Sam took his position behind the wheel and crashed their way out the underground garage of the fort.

Chloe took Nadine’s hand in her own, it was colder than before and clammy. She looked at the Queen's Ruby bracelet "Hey there love." Nadine looked her "Aren't I just a genius for giving you this bracelet? It led me to you like always." "It was a good gift. Be-Better than flowers and -cho-chocolate." Chloe chuckled "Ohh you know I'm not the flowers and chocolate kind of girl." Chloe cleared her throat, feeling  that dreaded clump of anxiety that she had failed to swallow "But I do owe you a marvellous dinner now. What would you like me prepare for you?" "Your- your cooking isn't great liefie(love)" Nadine gave her an honest answer "I-I'd rather have a MRE." Chloe faux recoiled "Ouch! Give me some credit, it was the first time I was cooking pap and vle-vleis" Nadine giggled a little before the pain became a bit much "You burnt both the pap and the boere-boerewors" "Again, it was my first time but the peppermint crisp tart you made for dessert was delicious and the extra dessert after that too." Nadine remained silent for a bit before answering Chloe "I-I would have loved to have made it for yo-you ag-again." Sensing Nadine's doubt "Hey hey hey hey, no! You're going to make it okay" She blinked away the tears threatening to escape her eyes. She didn't want to think about that. Again Nadine was silent for a little while longer, just looking at Chloe then said "Wi-wie is jy (Who are you)?" Her eye brows knitted together in confusion Chloe raised an eyebrow "Sorry love? My Afrikaans is terrible, what did you say?" "Who are yo-you?" Nadine tried to pull her hand back from Chloe. The blood loss was causing her to experience confusion. Chloe held on tighter "It's me - Chloe. Your skat (sweetheart). Your liefie (love). Your selfish dickhead." "Chlo-Chloe." Nadine repeated, relaxing as the moment of confusion cleared. How could she forget her Chloe? "That's right." Chloe pointed to the front seat "And that's Sam. You remember him right?" Sam turned his head "Hang in there Miss Ross" "Voet-voetsak (piss off)" Nadine spat back. That was one person she wouldn't mind forgetting. Chloe laughed a bit "That's the spirit."

Sam wasn't the best at driving and it became very apparent when the vehicle suddenly dipped to the one side as a tyre went into a pothole. Chloe and Nadine followed the direction of the tilt. Chloe did her best to keep Nadine from falling off with her. Nadine's pained groans could be heard over the rattling of the vehicle. "Christ Sam!" Chloe instinctively placed her hand on the stitched wound on Nadine's side and cradled Nadine's torso. Sam steadied the vehicle again "Sorry sorry. I didn't see that. Just focus on keeping Nadine awake!" His apologetic, determined eyes looked back at Chloe through the rear a view mirror "We're almost back in town! Tell Nadine to hang in there!"

Nadine's skin could now easily be classified as grey, it was paler than it had ever been, her breathing still so shallow. She tried to lift her hand to Chloe's face but was only able to grasp the forearm cradling her torso. Chloe responded by kissing her lips and felt a tear hit her cheek before rolling off her face. She felt so sad that she'd failed someone she loved again. First her father and now the love of her life. "You're not going to die you hear me?" Chloe begged more than commanded her "You're going to make it." Chloe's ear was close enough for Nadine to speak to her liefie (love) "Ek is (I am) -I'm not upset Chlo-Chloe." She desperately drew in more air "It's not...your-your fault okay. Prom-Promise me that you-you won't blame yourself...f-for this." "Just stay alive for me and I promise I won't blame myself" Chloe replied parting her tear filled grey eyes and looking into Nadine's half lidded brown eyes. "Hey! I can see the town" Sam shouted through the rumbling of the tyres over gravel Chloe lifted her head to confirm if Sam was seeing the right thing. She let out a breath, feeling relief wash over her, Nadine really had a fighting chance, she was going to make it. She turned to give Nadine the good news but her smile of relief was replaced with a frown. Nadine lay still. Eyes half lidded, looking at Chloe. No longer breathing and her half smile frozen in time. "No... no no no no." Chloe shook her head "Nadine?! China?! NADINE?!" Panic and dismay surfaced and Chloe immediately started chest compressions on Nadine, "Please-please don't do this to me." Sam looked into the rear view mirror when he heard Chloe's panicked voice. The car slowed down as he turned to the back watching Chloe's attempts and seeing Nadine's unresponsive eyes staring back at her. The wound that Chloe had closed up had opened again and bleeding all over onto the seat. It might have torn open when he went into that unexpected hole moments ago. He gently put his foot on the breaks to stop the vehicle. "Keep driving Sam!!" Chloe shouted back, tears falling from her eyes and onto Nadine's face "She-" Strong arms wrapped themselves around Chloe's torso and pulled her off Nadine. "No Sam! Let go of me!" Chloe wriggled in his hold, trying to free herself.

Sam held his grip firm around Chloe "Chloe! She's gon-" An elbow to the side of the head loosened his arms around Chloe but he quickly recovered and held her tighter. From the adrenaline of shooting his way through the underground fort, to carrying Nadine around, to driving the vehicle at high speed; Sam had very little energy but to watch Chloe go on and try to revive Nadine wasn't something he looked forward watching so he held on. If the door of the vehicle could magically close so that Chloe would begin to accept, he'd be grateful for that.

Chloe fought him for a good while before she ultimately gave in to the despair and weakened in her attempts. Tears and cries of anguish freely escaped her body. Sam went down slowly with her to the ground and let her pour all of it onto his shoulder. It took so long for Chloe to stop weeping, for her breathing to return to normal for her body to stop trembling and when she did, she gently pulled back and wiped Sam's now wet vest and shoulder said a whispered "C'mon, we'd better get moving" and headed for the backseat of the vehicle. She got in, closed Nadine's eyes and gave her cold lips another kiss. She then resumed her position in the driver's seat while Sam quietly went to the passenger side, a seat Nadine always occupied.

A pop sounded from the vehicles' lighter. Sam fished out of his pocket a beaten looking cigarette carton and shook one out. The sponged end placed in his mouth, he pulled the lighter out and lit it the cigarette. Finally taking in a deep drag that he had been craving.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

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

Sam offered to go on with recovering the lost treasure the three of them had been hunting without Chloe. Chloe didn't object to Sam's suggestion as she had to find a mortuary to keep Nadine's body from decomposing, which would prove difficult.

No mortuary was willing to keep a foreign body that had been shot without informing the local authorities and the state of Chloe's current blood covered attire was of no assistance. Chloe eventually 'offered' some money and careful manipulation to keep Nadine's body without question. At least until she could find a way to move Nadine out of the country and back to South Africa and that too was going to be met with challenges.

Sam returned victorious within the next two days and at finding the state in which Chloe was in, Sam wondered if it was really a good idea to have left her. Chloe filled him in on Nadine's body the that she cleaned and 'lost' the borrowed vehicle and recovered their rental.

The money they'd gotten from the recovered treasure was worthless now that Nadine had died in process of getting it.

Keeping the mortuary owner quiet about Nadine's body was expensive, trying to find a way past the local authorities was expensive, staying at the local bed and breakfast was expensive, days spent wallowing away in a bar was expensive but the biggest expense was that of Chloe's heart. Her risky decision cost her the love of her life. Sleeping was what Chloe found the hardest to do. Her subconscious transported her to a place where Nadine existed in all her love and strength, only for Chloe to wake up hours later to an empty bed, a headache and no fresh cup of coffee by her bedside table. If it's one thing Nadine always did, it was to make Chloe coffee or rooibos tea every morning without fail. Sometimes it would come with a rusk if they were home at their apartment, Buttermilk Rusks. Nadine's clothes were still neatly packed in her bag and Chloe found herself  picking up her curly dark hair everywhere, their apartment would no doubt hold the same.

Sam woke Chloe up one afternoon after another heavy night of drinking. Chloe yelled at him for not knocking but he had expressed his concern when she didn't answer her phone. The solution to the reason why that had happened would be in the remains of said cellphone, lying on the floor by the far wall. Chloe broke her phone regularly so it wasn't something new but what she kept from Sam was that it had been a result of listening to an old voice mail that Nadine had left her. In a fit of anger, she'd ended up throwing it against the wall. At that point Sam sat himself down on the bed and had a discussion with Chloe. He didn't claim to understand how she felt or give her advice that it'd pass, this was information that Chloe already knew. He simply asked that in honour of Nadine, they work together to get her body out of the country first and that Nadine would have wanted for Chloe to carry that out for her. All her blame, grief and anger would be welcomed later on. Chloe agreed knowing Nadine wouldn't want her to self destruct.

It'd take another two months of trying to find a way to get Nadine's body out of the country. Help came in the form of Victor Sullivan and his plane. He wasn't thrilled about having a dead body on his plane but Chloe offered him Nadine's share of their takings. As much of a swindler that Victor was, he couldn't accept the money. He just asked that the fuel expenses be covered for the trips he'd take to get their location, South Africa and back home. Chloe and Sam agreed.

Once in South Africa, more palms had be greased in order for Nadine to get a death certificate, which stated that she'd died from Hypovolemic shock only, and cremation in accordance with her will. Chloe was lucky enough that Nadine's remaining family knew how dangerous their line of work was so she was able to walk around a few suspicious questions at Nadine's memorial. Nadine's ashes were handed over to Chloe to release at the top of Table Mountain in Cape Town, in the early hours of the morning.

Present Day

"Hey Chloe, they're going to open up for the public in 10. You might want to- you know." Sam suggested Chloe nodded, running her right hand with the ring she had planned to give Nadine, over the  temporary container and lifting the lid. She saw the same dark grey she'd seen for the four days since receiving Nadine's ashes. That was all that was left of her and now, she was to let her go and get carried off by the Cape winds as Nadine's will requested. The container was slowly tipped over and the ashes of Chloe's love, her darling, her china, were carried off by the wind. Chloe watched as they climbed high in a current of dust.

Tears escaped Chloe's eyes at the sight "I love you Nadine and - I'm so sorry." At that last bit of her farewell, some of Nadine's ashes were carried into Chloe's face "Pff-pff...ewww gross Nadine." Sam laughed in the background "I don't think she accepted your apology Chloe." Chloe wiped the last of Nadine's ashes off her face and chuckled "Yeah, she was always such a stubborn dickhead."

~End~

[kissmeaboutit]

Fic recs part 1

The Intern- https://archiveofourown.org/works/979988/chapters/1929352#main

Armin was convinced that it was the opportunity of a lifetime, but Eren just saw it as just another chance to fail. Nothing good could possibly come out of an internship in a stuffy office at Survey Corporation. Eren would have been content to sit and watch the remainder of his senior year pass him by. However, after one elevator trip, Eren finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about life and himself.

Tentative Bliss- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131646/chapters/2286009

In the D/s community, a contract is the agreement between the Dom and sub: It outlines the structure, expectation, rules, and limitations of the temporary relationship. After Eren nervously signs one with his new Dom, Levi, they both have a month to decide if they're right for each other and to see if Eren can fit in the household without clashing with the others. Although, Eren is a little surprised by Armin's kindness and Levi's actual objective...

1994- https://archiveofourown.org/works/875756/chapters/1683367

Before cell phones. Before the Kardashians. Before internet porn. The year is 1994. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, poor kids from the wrong side of the tracks, have been transferred with the rest of their neighborhood to the posh, uptown Trost High (Home of the Titans). Mikasa and Armin seem to fit in well enough, but Eren isn't quite so lucky. Of course, most of this has to do with Eren's personality. When he accepts a bet to lose his virginity (and actually prove that someone likes him) by the end of the semester, it's hard for him to deny the improbability of winning. After all, the only one he seems to be talking to these days is the weirdly pretty (and just plain weird) goth working at the donut shop down the street...

Louder Than Words- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810396/chapters/3885151

My boyfriend, Eren Jaeger, disappeared ten days before his seventeenth birthday.

Six months later, he was found again, completely intact save for his mental and emotional scars. Oh, and the fact that he would never be able to speak again.

And so, we all started to rebuild from the debris that had been left in the destruction of our lives.

Little Titan Cafe- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032582/chapters/2057524#main

Just another cliche AU in which Eren works as a barista in his mother’s café, specializing in latte art. And then there’s Levi, who’s not exactly your typical patron, because, well, he’s blunt and rude (which Eren supposes isn’t that much different from regular customers) but mostly he just confuses Eren’s poor little homosexual heart.

Chasing Summer- https://archiveofourown.org/works/4059769/chapters/9136579

Two more weeks left before Levi Ackerman graduates from high school and leaves the small town of Shiganshina. He can't wait for the moment that he can finally put that dreadful town behind him. But when a Grisha Jaeger becomes the new family doctor, bringing along his ill son that breathes new life into the town he desperately wants to escape, will Levi find a reason to stay?

A Forged Wedding- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1557026/chapters/3301223

Modern AU, based off of the Japanese game: "I... Don't think I heard you right. What did you just ask me, Rivaille?" "I'm asking you to marry me for a month. How did you not hear me right?" (Rated M for later chapters, mentions of other pairings, more warnings inside)

Don’t Let Your guard down- https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440217/chapters/12572078

Eren and his adopted sister were raised in an extremely Christian household and as a result, are very ignorant to the world around them. And there's one big problem with that. Eren is gay and has been hiding it from everyone since he realized it, out of fear of his homophobic father and other people finding out. One day he feels tested religiously when he meets some eccentric people as a result of him drawing attention to himself by exhibiting his athletic abilities. Little does he know, he drew their attention because they are all apart of their school's color guard team and are desperate for a new member. He's hesitant to join, however, it may not be his choice to accept the offer after all.

Trost Landing- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622420/chapters/3458933

After a fire devastated their apartment, Levi and Eren move into a new housing community on the outskirts of town. However, after a little while, things don't turn out as happily-ever-after as they had planned.

A voice from the rubble- https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014987/chapters/11525746

It all just took 30 seconds. Thirty seconds that kept replaying in my mind over and over again, the details so vivid. Thirty seconds that would change my life forever.

Thirty seconds earlier we had all been safely tucked up in bed. Shiganshina Lodge was my home, my family was visiting for the holidays; it had now become our tomb.

Shiganshina District had been a second home to all of us ever since I was born. I know this place. I know its beauty... I'm now learning its terror.

OR: Eren's trapped in a landslide and Levi's the paramedic that finds him.

Freedom of the press- https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261971/chapters/7113611

Eren is just an ordinary college student, wondering how long he can put off his art projects and if it's possible to live off of only ramen and mac 'n cheese. Oh, and if his medical alert bracelet is really necessary, because honestly, it shouldn't be. His part time jobs as a barista and a photographer for a major newspaper help pay the bills, but when he gets assigned the task of photographing the upcoming professional soccer match, he can't believe his luck. He has been given permission to legally stalk his idol, center forward for the Scouts, Levi Ackerman!

Levi Ackerman is a famous soccer player, and the object of millions of girls' and guys' wet dreams. For Levi, the life of a celebrity is nothing to complain about. He can walk into any bar and leave with his choice of men to take home. And with a sexual appetite that can rival that of a porn star, this is a benefit of stardom he takes full advantage of. The only problem is, it's hard to keep secrets when constantly under a spotlight. What the world doesn't know is that he's gay, and he's determined to keep it that way. Levi struggles to keep his deep, dark secret out of the public knowledge, but a certain green-eyed brat is making that exceptionally difficult.

Both sides of the same coin- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966659/chapters/4255494

Eren is a werewolf, captured by humans for experiments, and wakes up in a cell that he soon realizes he's sharing with a vampire. The two work together to get out of their unpleasant prison but the price for their freedom may end up being too high. How will they cope with the consequences of the choices they have made?

Help Me Stand- https://archiveofourown.org/works/934319/chapters/1818776

Eren's best childhood friend and high school boyfriend, Armin, dies in a car accident in which Eren had been the one at the wheel. Unable to keep from blaming himself, life itself becomes agonizing for Eren and he turns to the more negative side of coping mechanisms. Eventually, he meets a college student named Levi who seems like he has it all figured out, just to discover that they have more in common than he thought. Modern!AU.

Also, Levi has a motorcycle because it was definitely necessary.

Make You Feel My Love- https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863482/chapters/11146277

Levi is Trost's strongest soldier, he's Captain of the Special Ops Squad and he's also the only chance Trost has to end their long war with Maria. Eren is Maria's Prince, he's beloved and respected by all of his people, he's also the only hope Maria has to survive their long struggle against Trost.

What neither of them expected was an arranged marriage to try and solve all their problems. Fun fact: it doesn't.

A World Of Our Own- https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632715/chapters/5875388

Eren wasn't happy knowing his whole life that he'd have to be forced into an arranged marriage, but finding out that his fiance is one of the richest, most famous heirs of the modern age wasn't exactly helping. All about the struggles of being forced into a modern day arranged marriage.

And Eren being a little shit in the process. Cause he's a brat.

The Music Room- https://archiveofourown.org/works/5043655/chapters/11596453

Levi Ackerman resides in a facility for the terminally ill, angry and bitter toward the world for being stripped of his life before he's even allowed to live it. He keeps to himself and in fact shuns any kind of social interaction with anyone. That is, until he stumbles upon the music room, inhabited only by a cancer-ridden teenager who's just as lonely as he is.

Leave your Lover- https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062431/chapters/4482963

Levi is a 30 year old divorced Chef who works at his best friend's restaurant.

An ex military Sergeant, Levi lives his life according to a strict routine. One day, his strict schedule is thrown off when a mysterious cat makes it's way into his apartment from the open Balcony. When Levi hears it's owner knocking on his door, he wasn't aware that his life would be turned upside down and all because of this boy standing in his doorway with the biggest, brightest green eyes he'd ever seen and his name is Eren Jaeger.

The story in which Levi doesn't know he's gay and is in denial about it until a certain bright eyed boy moves in next door and steals his heart. The only problem is... he's got a boyfriend.

Comment On... - https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897357

Levi has come a long way since he started writing fanfiction, but there's always been that one reader who's stuck by him since the beginning. A fanartist for his fanwriter who goes by the name of Jaegermeister. After months of talking back and forth in the comments of AO3 one of them finally becomes brave enough to send a message on Tumblr that takes their conversations to a whole new level.

Promises Travel-

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524034/chapters/12751232

One promise could lead to more.  

And for Levi, he intended to keep every one of them no matter where Eren may be.

A Place for Hearts To Rest- https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189850/chapters/16318364

Levi is Eren's captain, and Eren assumed it would always be that way. Captain and subordinate, the way it was meant to be. But, when Eren's heat hits and the two can't resist each other, will the change be for the better, or the worse? Especially with the extraordinary circumstances that follow. There were orders they were meant to follow, rules that were not meant to be broken, and repercussions that would be dire, but no one can withstand the battering of wild instincts indefinitely and even taciturn captains sometimes have slip ups.

Only with the help of their friends are they able to come to terms with the sticky situation they'd managed to get themselves into. But, will it be enough to save them?

[winterwitch611]

Don’t go

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton, Steve Rogers x Tony Stark

Summary: Clint accepts a mission. He’ll be gone for weeks. Bucky begs him not to leave. Something strange is happening to him... Clint should have listened.

Word Count: 1316

“Don’t go.”

“C’mon, Buck. We’ve been over this. I’ll only be gone a few weeks.”

“Yeah… yeah, I know. But…”

Bucky runs out of the room again. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Clint thinks it’s odd but nothing to be concerned about. Sometimes Bucky gets overwhelmed and needs a moment to get his thoughts together so he doesn’t lash out.

Truth of the matter is he’s developed a cough. Knowing full well there’s no way he should be ill, he’s worried— actually he’s scared. He just can’t seem to bring himself to tell Clint. He knows he should, he just can’t. This is serious. How do you tell the person you love that you might be dying?

Clint finishes packing up and begins putting on his tac gear. It’s settled then, he’s going on the mission Bucky has been begging him not to go on. Why couldn’t he listen… just once?

                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve?” Bucky lets himself in to his best friend’s quarters just like he always does. “Hey, pal… you here?” he calls out, as he walks through the living room.

“Yeah, in the back,”Steve responds. Bucky makes his way to the bedroom where Steve is working at his desk. “What’s going on?” he asks. When he turns around his startled by the look on his friend’s face. “Buck? Are you okay?”

“He left, Steve. I begged him not to go. I really needed him to stay this time. Why couldn’t he just—” A violent coughing fit overtakes him. He coughs so hard he can barely catch his breath.

“Jesus Christ! What he hell!? FRIDAY we need medical…NOW!” Steve commands the tower’s AI, as he rushes to help his friend.

“I’ve already alerted them, Captain Rogers. They are in route,” she informs him.

“C’mon Buck. Take it easy. Slow steady breaths.”

“I don’t… I don’t need medical,”he says, as he gasps and begins coughing again.

Steve goes pale when it dawns on him. “Bucky” he swallows and tries to keep calm.  “…you can’t be sick. The serum… we don’t get sick. This is something else. You need help.” As Steve’s panic starts to set in there’s a knock at the door and someone yells “We’re coming in Captain!”

“In here!! Hurry!!” he shouts back.

When the medics reach the bedroom, they find Bucky coughing up blood. They try to hide their shock and act professionally; but this is not something they ever thought they’d see. Super Soldiers aren’t susceptible to illness. They don’t “catch a cold” or “come down with the flu”. They tell FRIDAY to alert the medical team that they have a serious problem. All hands on deck.

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve sits at Bucky’s bedside. He holds his friend’s hand and tells him he’s going to be okay even if he doesn’t believe it. It’s been two weeks and there’s no sign of improvement. If anything, Bucky has gotten worse.

They’ve called in countless experts, Tony has spared no expense flying doctors and specialists in from around the world. He’s grown fond of Bucky over the years. He even forgave him for what he did while under the control of HYDRA. It was difficult, but if he was going to have any sort of relationship with Steve, he needed to accept the fact that what happened was out of Bucky’s hands. He was nothing more than the vessel that carried out the acts.

Steve appreciates all of Tony’s efforts, it’s actually brought them closer. He didn’t think he had a shot with the genius after what had happened. However, It seems a crisis brings out the best in people. Tony has been there every day. Sitting by his side. Tapping away on his laptop looking for answers. Searching for anything that might give them hope. He’s also been the shoulder to cry on and arms to find comfort in.

This isn’t how Steve wanted to start their relationship but he’s grateful Tony is there for him. When he thinks about how much Tony’s presence is helping him, he wonders if Clint’s presence would help Bucky. He should be here. He needs to be here.

All attempts to reach Clint and Natasha have failed. The mission they’re on is high security; communication is limited. The moment they left, all trackers and comms had been disabled. He keeps trying— he won’t stop trying. He’s even sent messages to SHIELD asking for clearance to contact the agents. He was denied. The fact that a mission is taking precedence, in their eyes, is sickening.  

All he can do is focus on Bucky. Make sure he knows he’s not alone and there are people who love him. “Come on, pal. You have to pull through this. I can’t lose you again. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. We’re supposed to grow old and die together. Don’t do this to me, Bucky,” Steve pleads. “Don’t do this to Clint. He needs you. You know what a disaster he is. Can you imagine what he be like if you’re not around? Please, pal, don’t go.”

The beeping of machines is all the response he gets. It’s driving him mad. Tony has been trying to get him to take a break. To eat and sleep… to just leave the room for a little while maybe clear his head a little. No luck. Steve is stubborn as a mule, no way he’s leaving his friend’s side. It’s taking a toll on his health. He’s lost too much weight, there are dark circles around his eyes, he hasn’t slept in days.

“Steve, please, I’m begging you, get some rest,” Tony pleads. “You can’t take care of him if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I’m not leaving! Stop trying to get me to leave. There’s nothing you can say to get me to…” Steve coughs. His eyes widen in shock. No, this can’t be happening. Tony calls for help as Steve coughs so hard, he can’t breathe. He collapses. Tony’s heart sinks.

The medical team is completely baffled. Not a single thing they’ve tried has helped, and now both Super Soldiers are on life support. Whatever this is hit Steve twice as fast as it it hit Bucky. It has to have something to do with the versions of the serum they received, Tony spends days searching through his father’s files. Looking for anything that could give him a clue what to look for, a direction to take, anything! He wants to stay by Steve’s side but that won’t save him.

When the alarms begin to ring, FRIDAY alerts Tony. “Boss, I’m afraid you need to report to the medical floor immediately.”

He drops everything and runs as fast as he can the elevator. His heart is pounding as he reaches the room the alarms are coming from. It’s Bucky. The medical team tries for over 30 minutes but there’s no use. He’s gone.

Tony runs to Steve’s room. He feels the tears streaming down his cheeks. He knows he’s running out of time. All the hours and days of research and he’s no closer to an answer. He needs to be here. Bucky died alone, he doesn’t want that for Steve. He pulls a chair up to the bed and takes his hand. “I need to tell you something. I hope you can hear me.”, he takes a deep breath and wipes his tears. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you, I was just too stupid and scared to tell you.”

The confession only makes his tears flow harder. The realization that he’ll never get to look into Steve’s eyes and tell him how much he means to him. The pain is overwhelming, he knows what’s coming and all the money in the world won’t be able to stop it. He leans over and kisses Steve’s forehead and whispers in his ear...

“Don’t go”  

Beta: @caramell0w 

Notes: I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Don’t hurt me!

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 22)

Fandom:  The Adventure Zone:  Commitment Rating:  M Chapter Warnings:  Mentions of non-consensual medical procedures Relationship:  Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count:  1,448

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

I’m going to be moving basically this whole week, so I figured I’d post this chapter early. (Also, I wanted to.)

Also, @voidfishkid drew the ABSOLUTE CUTEST picture of Mary Sage winking at Nadiya from last chapter! Go check it out!!!

Chapter Summary:   Jonesy breaks some rules. Mary Sage learns the truth. Nadiya makes a decision.

__________________

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Grace said softly. “Why you?”

In the silence that followed, Jonesy clicked to a new slide. Then another, and another. Each showed a photo of a personnel file.

Jamie Meadows.

Addison Parker.

Flanagan Kirmani.

Joe Carbinner.

Grace Perkins.

Scully Vanderbilt.

Paul Potts.

All of the members of the Do-Good Fellowship, their secrets and details and ways to manipulate them laid out on a tidy page in Times New Roman.

“I already told you,” Grace said. “She wanted the best and the brightest.”

Christopher Rembrandt.

“An Olympic athlete she needed to keep close, the son of the people she worked with and who knew what she was up to,” Jonesy paraphrased from the file, leaning over the counter on her forearms. “IT specialist. Ideal for a fighting-type stimplant. Desperate to save his brother’s failing gym.”

Remy looked like he was going to be sick. “Does it say anything about my parents?”

Grace shook her head. “Just that they disappeared right before your Olympic run.”

Remy nodded, tight-lipped, his fingers twitching as they gripped the edge of the table.

Nadiya Jones.

“The brightest scientist of her age, lonely and desperate for validation in the thankless world of academia,” Jonesy continued. Nadiya shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking at her hands. “The scientist who developed the original stimplant technology. She couldn’t let you walk free – you could’ve developed an antidote, or patented your tech before she had a chance to get her hands on it.”

“She doesn’t own it,” Nadiya snarled. Grace gave her a pitying look.

Irene Baker.

“I know you’ve wondered before why you were hired, Irene,” Grace said. “Jonesy?”

“An overlooked professional brimming with untapped power and an ability to connect with others that would bond Martine’s little group together irrevocably,” Jonesy said quietly. “She may not have known about Kardala, but she knew there was something special about you, Irene. Your bonds are off the chart. Trust me – I had to adjust the blockers this morning to account for it.”

Irene’s face was blank. “Right,” she murmured.

Jonesy hesitated, then clicked to the last slide.

Mary Elizabeth Sage.

Nadiya could feel Mary Sage stiffen beside her.

“Mary, you were the most dangerous of them all,” Grace said. “The one on whom Richard’s plan hinged.” She paused, as if wondering whether she should continue. “The one whose psyche Martine deliberately tampered with. The one who was getting too close with your investigations into parents.”

“What do you mean?” Mary Sage whispered.

“You were right, Mary,” Grace said. “I found this all out after the Fellowship fell… I never would’ve kept it from you. None of us would have.”

“Richard needed you for his broadcast,” Jonesy said. “Everyone has hints of what powers they’ll manifest. They figured out early on what you would be able to do if you were augmented. So… Martine used her influence to get your parents arrested.” She glanced towards the table, then away again. “Just like she presumably made Remy’s disappear.”

Mary Sage let out a small, choked sound like a sob. Without thinking, Nadiya reached out and put an arm around her waist, and Mary Sage leaned into her. She was shaking slightly.

“Martine knew you would do anything for revenge,” Jonesy said, still half-reading off the file displayed on the screen. “She offered you powers to fill that gap, and… there it was.”

“How’re you doing?” Grace asked gently.

“Mary’s okay,” Mary Sage said softly. Nadiya tilted her head to look Mary in the eyes. They weren’t completely clear, but they weren’t glazed, either.

“Good,” Grace said. “Because there’s more.”

“She tried to put a failsafe in your head,” Jonesy said, and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Do you need me to –” Grace started, but Jonesy shook her head.

“Tried?” Mary Sage prompted.

“Tried,” Jonesy repeated, opening her eyes. “From the info Grace and I gathered, she didn’t count on… well, on your already unstable brain chemistry. Instead of making you compliant, the tampering caused your seizures, heightened your depersonalization disorder.”

“This… explains a lot,” Mary Sage said. She took a deep breath and straightened slightly, a determined look on her face. “That was the failsafe, then?”

“More or less.” Jonesy took a breath. “It’s… possible that Martine managed to… code in a way to… stop you, if it came to that.”

“You’re sayin’ it’s possible she can instakill me, then,” Mary Sage said flatly. Nadiya took in a sharp breath. “Well, that just fuckin’ figures, doesn’t it. Ya got a plan?”

“Actually, yes,” Grace said. “Listen. This all may sound… dire. But Martine isn’t perfect. You’ve already thrown her off once. She wasn’t planning on having to go along with Richard’s idea to send the three of you – Irene, Nadiya, and Remy – after you, Mary. Hell, she wasn’t planning on Kardala at all. According to her notes, Irene, it seems like she thought you would just gain power over the weather.” Grace tapped one fingernail, French manicure chipped, against the counter. “What I’m saying is that it isn’t hopeless. A week from tomorrow, according to the news, Martine will be holding a press-conference-cum-gala here in San Francisco.”

“I suspect she’s using the government data bank and archives downtown, which would be a reason she’d be here in San Francisco,” Jonesy puts in.

“In simple terms, I want to infiltrate the party,” Grace said calmly, “and take Martine down by any means possible. Without her, Richard has nothing, and the government will drop the entire thing. They’ll still have the stimplant technology, which, I admit, isn’t great, but they won’t be controlled by Martine. Additionally – and we’ll go into the details of this later – with the help of you, Mary, and you, Remy, we should be able to interrupt the broadcast of the press conference and get our own on there instead, reveal Martine’s plans and completely undermine her credibility. There’s nothing that scares the government more than an inside job. I think we can all agree that’s better than nothing.”

“We have to act quickly,” Jonesy explained, shutting her laptop. “Your story just solidifies that. It’s clear she’s already putting the stimplants into action – look at what happened in Nevada, with the augmented soldier who attacked you. I also can’t keep us hidden forever – we can’t just stay in the building all the time, and someone’s going to figure it out sooner or later, we were on the broadcast. The faster we move, the less likely it is that Martine will figure out our plan.”

“Martine may have Richard and Sylvane with her,” Grace said, starting to sweep plates off the table and pile them in the sink. “Sylvane’s definitely augmented and very dangerous, though I’m sure you all can take him like you did at the ‘Berg. Richard may still be in bad shape. Martine may also have other augmented individuals or soldiers with her, and there’s always the addition of regular police or Secret Service. It’ll be tricky – I’m not denying that.”

“Wait.” Remy looked even sicker than before. “Are you saying we’re gonna kill Martine?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Grace said, and made eye contact with him, holding it for an awkward few seconds before Remy’s eyes dropped. “I need you all to tell me if you’re not in. I know I’m asking a lot. It’ll be dangerous, and I have no way of knowing what the outcome will be, even if we succeed.”

“I’m in,” Mary Sage said instantly. “I wanna make Martine pay, an’ I don’t wanna take the chance of her flippin’ that kill switch, or gettin’ in my head again an’ fucking me up more than I already am.” She paused, and caught a quivering breath. “And I want my parents back,” she added viciously.

“I’m in too,” Pridmore said nervously, then looked to Abbey, who nodded and signed something even Nadiya could recognize as me too.

“You know I’m with you, Gracie,” Jonesy said.

“I’ll help,” Irene said quietly. “I think… I don’t have a choice. If I want to live with myself.”

“I will too. I guess,” Remy said. “But I don’t like it.” He swallowed. “I don’t like any of it, okay?”

“Nadiya?” Grace said.

Nadiya closed her eyes, trying to think. She hated rushing into things, but it didn’t seem like they had much of a choice. She wanted her life back. She wanted her lab, and she wanted ordinariness, and she wanted her dad to drop by and ask about her research, and she wanted her mom to call on the first of the month like she usually did.

And she wanted to stop running.

She opened her eyes.

“I’m in.”

[newstfionline]

The Tragedy Of Saudi Arabia’s War

By Declan Walsh, NY Times, Oct. 26, 2018

Chest heaving and eyes fluttering, the 3-year-old boy lay silently on a hospital ward in the highland town of Hajjah, a bag of bones fighting for breath.

His father, Ali al-Hajaji, stood anxiously over him. Mr. Hajaji had already lost one son three weeks earlier to the epidemic of hunger sweeping across Yemen. Now he feared that a second was slipping away.

It wasn’t for a lack of food in the area: The stores outside the hospital gate were filled with goods and the markets were bustling. But Mr. Hajaji couldn’t afford any of it because prices were rising too fast.

“I can barely buy a piece of stale bread,” he said. “That’s why my children are dying before my eyes.”

The devastating war in Yemen has gotten more attention recently as outrage over the killing of a Saudi dissident in Istanbul has turned a spotlight on Saudi actions elsewhere. The harshest criticism of the Saudi-led war has focused on the airstrikes that have killed thousands of civilians at weddings, funerals and on school buses, aided by American-supplied bombs and intelligence.

But aid experts and United Nations officials say a more insidious form of warfare is also being waged in Yemen, an economic war that is exacting a far greater toll on civilians and now risks tipping the country into a famine of catastrophic proportions.

Under the leadership of Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, the Saudi-led coalition and its Yemeni allies have imposed a raft of punitive economic measures aimed at undercutting the Houthi rebels who control northern Yemen. But these actions--including periodic blockades, stringent import restrictions and withholding the salaries of about a million civil servants--have landed on the backs of civilians, laying the economy to waste and driving millions deeper into poverty.

Those measures have inflicted a slow-burn toll: infrastructure destroyed, jobs lost, a weakening currency and soaring prices. But in recent weeks the economic collapse has gathered pace at alarming speed, causing top United Nations officials to revise their predictions of famine.

“There is now a clear and present danger of an imminent and great, big famine engulfing Yemen,” Mark Lowcock, the under secretary for humanitarian affairs, told the Security Council on Tuesday. Eight million Yemenis already depend on emergency food aid to survive, he said, a figure that could soon rise to 14 million, or half Yemen’s population.

“People think famine is just a lack of food,” said Alex de Waal, author of “Mass Starvation” which analyzes recent man-made famines. “But in Yemen it’s about a war on the economy.”

The signs are everywhere, cutting across boundaries of class, tribe and region. Unpaid university professors issue desperate appeals for help on social media. Doctors and teachers are forced to sell their gold, land or cars to feed their families. On the streets of the capital, Sana, an elderly woman begs for alms with a loudspeaker.

“Help me,” the woman, Zahra Bajali, calls out. “I have a sick husband. I have a house for rent. Help.”

And in the hushed hunger wards, ailing infants hover between life and death. Of nearly two million malnourished children in Yemen, 400,000 are considered critically ill--a figure projected to rise by one quarter in the coming months.

“We are being crushed,” said Dr. Mekkia Mahdi at the health clinic in Aslam, an impoverished northwestern town that has been swamped with refugees fleeing the fighting in Hudaydah, an embattled port city 90 miles to the south.

Flitting between the beds at her spartan clinic, she cajoled mothers, dispensed orders to medics and spoon-fed milk to sickly infants. For some it was too late: the night before, an 11-month old boy had died. He weighed five and a half pounds.

Looking around her, Dr. Mahdi could not fathom the Western obsession with the Saudi killing of Jamal Khashoggi in Istanbul.

“We’re surprised the Khashoggi case is getting so much attention while millions of Yemeni children are suffering,” she said. “Nobody gives a damn about them.”

She tugged on the flaccid skin of a drowsy 7-year-old girl with stick-like arms. “Look,” she said. “No meat. Only bones.”

The embassy of Saudi Arabia in Washington did not respond to questions about the country’s policies in Yemen. But Saudi officials have defended their actions, citing rockets fired across their border by the Houthis, an armed group professing Zaidi Islam, an offshoot of Shiism, that Saudi Arabia, a Sunni monarchy, views as a proxy for its regional rival, Iran.

The Saudis point out that they, along with the United Arab Emirates, are among the most generous donors to Yemen’s humanitarian relief effort. Last spring, the two allies pledged $1 billion in aid to Yemen. In January, Saudi Arabia deposited $2 billion in Yemen’s central bank to prop up its currency.

But those efforts have been overshadowed by the coalition’s attacks on Yemen’s economy, including the denial of salaries to civil servants, a partial blockade that has driven up food prices, and the printing of vast amounts of bank notes, which caused the currency to plunge.

And the offensive to capture Hudaydah, which started in June, has endangered the main lifeline for imports to northern Yemen, displaced 570,000 people and edged many more closer to starvation.

A famine here, Mr. Lowcock warned, would be “much bigger than anything any professional in this field has seen during their working lives.”

When Ali Hajaji’s son fell ill with diarrhea and vomiting, the desperate father turned to extreme measures. Following the advice of village elders, he pushed the red-hot tip of a burning stick into Shaher’s chest, a folk remedy to drain the “black blood” from his son.

“People said burn him in the body and it will be O.K.,” Mr. Hajaji said. “When you have no money, and your son is sick, you’ll believe anything.”

“The big countries say they are fighting each other in Yemen,” Mr. Hajaji said. “But it feels to us like they are fighting the poor people.”

Yemen’s economic crisis was not some unfortunate but unavoidable side effect of the fighting.

In 2016, the Saudi-backed Yemeni government transferred the operations of the central bank from the Houthi-controlled capital, Sana, to the southern city of Aden. The bank, whose policies are dictated by Saudi Arabia, a senior Western official said, started printing vast amounts of new money--at least 600 billion riyals, according to one bank official. The new money caused an inflationary spiral that eroded the value of any savings people had.

The bank also stopped paying salaries to civil servants in Houthi-controlled areas, where 80 percent of Yemenis live. With the government as the largest employer, hundreds of thousands of families in the north suddenly had no income.

At the Sabeen hospital in Sana, Dr. Huda Rajumi treats the country’s most severely malnourished children. But her own family is suffering, too, as she falls out of Yemen’s vanishing middle class.

In the past year, she has received only a single month’s salary. Her husband, a retired soldier, is no longer getting his pension, and Dr. Rajumi has started to skimp on everyday pleasures, like fruit, meat and taxi rides, to make ends meet.

“We get by because people help each other out,” she said. “But it’s getting hard.”

Economic warfare takes other forms, too. In a recent paper, Martha Mundy, a lecturer at the London School of Economics, analyzed coalition airstrikes in Yemen, finding that their attacks on bridges, factories, fishing boats and even fields suggested that they aimed to destroy food production and distribution in Houthi-controlled areas.

Saudi Arabia’s tight control over all air and sea movements into northern Yemen has effectively made the area a prison for those who live there. In September, the World Health Organization brokered the establishment of a humanitarian air bridge to allow the sickest Yemenis--cancer patients and others with life-threatening conditions--to fly to Egypt.

Among those on the waiting list is Maimoona Naji, a 16-year-old girl with a melon-size tumor on her left leg. At a hostel in Sana, her father, Ali Naji, said they had obtained visas and money to travel to India for emergency treatment. Their hopes soared in September when his daughter was told she would be on the first plane out of Sana once the airlift started.

But the agreement has stalled, blocked by the Yemeni government, according to the senior Western official. Maimoona and dozens of other patients have been left stranded, the clock ticking on their illnesses.

“First they told us ‘next week, next week,’” said Mr. Naji, shuffling through reams of documents as tears welled up in his eyes. “Then they said no. Where is the humanity in that? What did we do to deserve this?”

The Saudi coalition is not solely to blame for Yemen’s food crisis.

In Houthi-held areas, aid workers say, commanders level illegal taxes at checkpoints and frequently try to divert international relief aid to the families of soldiers, or to line their own pockets.

Despite the harrowing scenes of suffering in the north, some Yemenis are getting rich. Upmarket parts of Sana are enjoying a mini real estate boom, partly fueled by Yemeni migrants returned from Saudi Arabia, but also by newly enriched Houthi officials.

Local residents say they have seen Houthi officials from modest backgrounds driving around the city in Lexus four-wheel drives, or shopping in luxury stores, trailed by armed gunmen, to buy suits and perfumes.

Tensions reached a climax this summer when the head of the United Nations migration agency was forced to leave Sana after clashing with the Houthi administration.

In an interview, the Houthi vice foreign minister, Hussain al-Ezzi, denied reports of corruption, and insisted that tensions with the United Nations had been resolved.

“We don’t deny there have been some mistakes on our side,” he said. “We are working to improve them.”

Only two famines have been officially declared by the United Nations in the past 20 years, in Somalia and South Sudan. A United Nations-led assessment due in mid-November will determine how close Yemen is to becoming the third.

To stave it off, aid workers are not appealing for shipments of relief aid but for urgent measures to rescue the battered economy.

“This is an income famine,” said Lise Grande, the United Nations humanitarian coordinator for Yemen. “The key to stopping it is to ensure that people have enough money to buy what they need to survive.”

The priority should be to stabilize the falling currency, she said, and to ensure that traders and shipping companies can import the food that Yemenis need.

Above all, she added, “the fighting has to stop.”

One hope for Yemenis is that the international fallout from the death of the Saudi dissident, Jamal Khashoggi, which has damaged Prince Mohammed’s international standing, might force him to relent in his unyielding prosecution of the war.

Peter Salisbury, a Yemen specialist at Chatham House, said that was unlikely.

“I think the Saudis have learned what they can get away with in Yemen--that western tolerance for pretty bad behavior is quite high,” he said. “If the Khashoggi murder tells us anything, it’s just how reluctant people are to rein the Saudis in.”

[thisweekingundamwing]

TWIGW April 15-21

Good morning lovely fandom!

Here’s your round up for this week!  If you submitted something we missed, drop us a line, we’ll get it corrected! 

And if you find something you like, remember to leave the creator some love!

XOXO,

Mod CB

Fanfiction:

A Little Piece of Gundam Wing

The archive is being ported to AO3! Check it out!

AerisEithne

The Snow Queen

Days after the incident that nearly sparked a new war, Relena returns to the Sanc Kingdom to contemplate her future. She can’t help but wonder which path the perfect soldier will choose… and whether their destinies will continue to collide.

Pairings: 1xR

Warnings: Gundam Wing (Frozen Teardrop), Preventers

@anaranesindanarie

Tout pour toi mon amour

A collection of Dorothy and Relena oneshots for @maevemauvaise

Pairings: DxR

Warnings: none

Death Unspeaking (Chapters 19 and 20!!)

What happens when a Gundam Pilot is mute? Will the other Pilots look down at him because of it? Will he overcome the odds or will the odds overcome him?

Pairings: 2x3

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Underage, Mute!Duo Gundams, Eventual Canon Divergence, Mobile Suits, Fighting, Eventual Yaoi, AU, Sign Language, just pure awesomeness, Blowing Shit Up, blowing ships up, Circus

a_river_of_stars

Post Nihil

Much of Trowa’s past is lost to him, but he can’t help feeling drawn to the pale boy who’s been haunting his dreams. When the boy turns out to be real, Trowa follows him into space. But something’s not right. A deep sense of sadness has taken hold of Quatre, and Trowa makes it his mission to free him from it. Unfortunately, Quatre seems to think he deserves to be miserable.A love story told as a series of codas, all taking place between Episodes 35-49. This is my first fic for this fandom, so please be kind. I'm new to this site.

Pairings: 3x4

Warnings: Temporary Amnesia, Troquat, Quattro - Freeform, 3x4 - Freeform, 4x3 - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Guilt, Teens Acting Like Teens, Atypical Treatment of Amnesia, Probably ooc, Canon Compliant

@claraxbarton

Of All People

After his relationship with Zechs ends, Trowa meets Duo - a vaguely familiar, handsome stranger who promises to help him forget his ex.  Giftfic for @kangofu-cb

Pairings: 2x3, 4x5, past 3x6

Warnings: AU, academic au, nice and fluffy, no really, happy endings and fun times, and SMUT

@claraxbarton , @kangofu-cb

Bad Company

"The only hell and the only paradise are the ones we build ourselves." - Unknown Years after the wars, Preventers has decided to tackle one of the most powerful and oldest of all the Terran crime syndicates. Embedded dangerously deep in an undercover operation targeting the violent and bloodthirsty Sinaloa Cartel, Trowa Barton is pushed beyond even his flexible morals - and when his new "partner" arrives in the very unexpected and unwelcome form of Duo Maxwell, the one person he'd been trying to protect at all costs, both men must deal with the realization that preserving peace for humanity is turning into a bloodsport.What follows is race against time to uncover the evidence they need to bring Sinaloa, and its beautiful but deadly leaders, down - all while keeping each other alive in the process

Pairings: 2x3

Warnings: Post-Canon, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Human Trafficking, Gang Violence, Canon Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Moral Dilemmas

@duointherain

The Dance Politic

A star-struck Heero finally confesses to Duo, who is now the mayor of L2.

Pairings: 1x2, 5xR

Warnings: none

Foopy, kirallie

Knights of Avalon

Multi-series crossover fic

The Galaxy is a weird, wonderful and dangerous place. There is far more to history than anyone remembers.

Warnings: Very AU, Stargate pushed up to movie in '04, sentient weapons, many dates have been played with to fit

Ginnybag

Past Tense

'Milliardo.... I'll be waiting on the other side....'A quarter of a century after the fight at MOII, the Epyon System follows the last command given by its maker, returning him to where he will, once again, be needed. But 25 years is a long time and the world he left behind is not the one he wakes in, and fighting to be more than the ghost that he has become to his friends and family may be one battle Treize Khushrenada really cannot win.

Pairings: 6x13, 3xUne, 5xMariemaia, 4xR, 2xDorothy

Warnings: Other Children, Past Relationship(s, )Past Zechs/Noin, Past Treize/Une, Hints of Treize/Dorothy, Newtypes, POLITICS!, Sanc, Past Heero/Relena, Past Treize/OFC, Past Treize/OMC, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Parents & Children, Discussions of Politics/War/Abuse/Sex, References to Drugs, Romefeller Foundation, Mentions of Past Nastiness, ZERO System, Canon - to a point

Wild Roses: Cold Comfort

December AC 191: Six months after creation, Treize's new Wing is rapidly gathering a reputation as the best of the best. A routine patrol in space cements Zechs's status as an Ace and leaves Treize injured, revealing the depths of his religious beliefs.As the 10th Anniversary of the Fall of Sanc combines with the fallout, Leia begins to doubt her husband, Lady Une summons the Zodiac to form, and Noin earns her wings. On Christmas Eve, Treize marks his 21st with a mission he did not expect, culminating in professional triumph and personal revelation for both men.

Pairings: Zechs Merquise/Original Male Character(s), Zechs/Otto, Treize Khushrenada/Lady Une, Leia Barton/Treize Khushrenada, Zechs/Otto/OMC

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Nuclear-powered suits, The Duchess of Richmond's Ball, Medical Euthanasia

lithle

Salt

Three months after the events of Like Oxygen, Duo shows up on Wufei's doorstep. As familiar, dangerous patterns assert themselves, Wufei's left wondering if there is, or could be, anything between them beyond self-destructive desire. Sequel to Like Oxygen

Pairings: 5x2

Warnings: Unhealthy Relationships, Post War Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, no EW, Post-Warm Explicit Language, Sex, Bad Decisions, POV Chang Wufei, everyone is broken, But Maybe Trying to Get Better?

Lthanz

Life is War

Multi-series crossover fic

Sequel to 'Life is Fringe'. Five years later, Max, Chloe, and Kevin have settled into their new lives. However, they soon find themselves caught up in a power-struggle between two powerful men competing to control the fate of the world. Loyalties will be tested but a greater threat looms in the darkness, ready to strike.

Characters: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price, Kate Marsh/Original Character(s), Maxine "Max" Caulfield, Chloe Price (Life Is Strange), Kate Marsh, Olivia Dunham, Treize Khushrenada, Natasi Daala, Lucrezia Noin, Lady Une

Warnings: Science Fiction & Fantasy, War, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Crossover, Multiple Crossovers, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, pricefield

Luvsanime02

To Be Kind

A @gwcocktailfriday submission

Cathy knows that this isn't going to work anymore.

Pairings: Cathy x OMC

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Language, Mild Angst, Cocktail Friday

Maldoror

The Source of All Things

Center, a planet where magic and technology blend. Or more accurately, fight tooth and nail. A planet of Sources, holes in our boring dimension letting through arcane power, chaos and pseudo-deities. In this hot-house of myths and very real dangers, Trowa and Quatre find a mysterious man at the end of a shamanic voyage. Portents suggest this Heero Yuy is crucial to Center’s survival. He’s important enough to have some interesting enemies after him, at any rate: a devious killer and thief called ‘Shinigami’, and a very irate Dragon. Beyond them looms an even greater threat. Indeed, the greatest of them all.

Pairings: 3x4, 2x5, eventual 1x2x5

Warnings:  alternative universe, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Plot Twists, fairly graphic depiction of sex, Mild description of self-harm, Mathematical Magic, weird science, crones - Freeform, Magic and Technology brawling and eventually screwing, Eventual Threesome, Kinda, Insanity of arcane origin, The universe is a pile of marbles and other dubious allegories

Two Halves

The two kingdoms of Sanq and Lin were at war for years; a conflagration involving magic, armies and political murder. The conflict left both nations devastated and strewn with refugees. The king of Sanq finds his infant son, lost at birth, among the death and the ruin, a miracle he barely dared to hope for. But there isn't just one boy, there are two, clinging together like two halves of a whole that cannot be separated. Decades later, the truth behind that second child’s existence will put a hole in the world, or possibly save it.

Pairings: 1x2

Warnings: Fantasy AU, medieval setting with magic, starts with our heroes as children, Cousin Incest, sort of, eventually, being royalty this is in fact the norm and rather expected of them, Canon-Typical Violence

Neutral

La última impresión

Pienso en todo esto mientras espero que Duo Maxwell haga su aparición anual. Cuatro años han pasado desde que abandonamos nuestras vidas militares y él, desde el término de los conflictos armados, cada año aparece en la misma fecha, sin importar en qué parte del mundo esté yo instalado.

Pairings: 1x2

Warnings: Creator chose not to use archive warnings

@remsyk-blog

Souls for the Bayou for @maevemauvaise and written for @fandomtrumpshate

For Trowa Barton, exploring the bayou is the ultimate adventure. Drawn to its borders since before he could walk, he spent his childhood learning its paths and uncovering its secrets.  But a chance encounter sets him on a path that spans across time, challenging everything he thought he knew, plunging him deeper into its mysteries than he ever thought possible.

Pairings: 2x3

Warnings: Supernatural - Freeform, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Bayou, Cajun, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Mystery, Slow Burn, Technically Speaking, Young Love, Use of accents, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't want to give it all away at once, Fandom Trumps Hate

Martini Time

Trowa is not the first pick for Relena's protection detail, nor is he even second or third, but his presence is requested at this particular party, involving a very particular dress code.

Pairings: 3xR, implied 2xR, implied future 2x3xR

Warnings: Cocktail Friday, 1950s Theme, Another stupid charity party, dressing up, Comments on Trowa's hair, Unwanted attention, Sharing

SkullQueenLorita

Wrong Number

Duo, as Quatre's self appointed wing-man and in an attempt to reduce some of Quatre's innocence, gives Quatre the number to a sex hotline. Quatre reluctantly agrees to it. Unfortunately for Quatre, Duo got distracted and gave him the wrong number. But maybe that's a good thing.

Pairings: 4xOFC, 2xOFC

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Wrong Number AU thingy, Quatre is a cinnamon roll, Duo is Quatre's self appointed wingman, Duo shouldn't be Quatre's wingman, Duo was trying to help but messed up, Quatre is weak against freckles, but that's later, Heero has a gilfriend, Duo doesn't believe she's real though, Booy is he proven wrong later, Quatre swears, and gets mildly flirted with, Texting, group chats, Quatre has a tattoo, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drunk Texting, Drunk flirting

tb_ll57

Properties of Zero

Four years after the war, Zechs is an embittered relic wrapped up in his own suffering. A chance meeting with Quatre Winner may lead to something more, if Zechs is willing to try. If ZERO will let him.

Pairings: 4x6 (main) with multiple background pairings

Warnings: Post-Endless Waltz, Artificial Intelligence, Psychic Bond, Psychic Violence, OZ wins the war, Everybody Lives, Politics, Rough Sex, Dubious Consent, Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Zechs is not a great person, But kind of wants to be, Quatre is not that innocent, ZERO is not your friend, ZERO may not be your enemy either, Resistance

white_fox

Life Is A Highway

On an impulsive plan to travel from California to New York City to propose to his longtime girlfriend, Heero Yuy did not plan to pick up a hitchhiker in nowhere Texas. Faced with some setbacks and a growing attraction to his passenger, Heero goes through more challenges than he planned on facing.

Pairings: 1x2, 1xR

Warnings: light slash, Fluff, Road Trips, Dubious Morality

Snippets:

@fadedsepiascribbles

WIP Wednesday - Awkward Une

@lifeaftermeteor

LAM!verse - Snippet featuring Wufei and Sally discussing future opportunities

@remsyk-blog

Dreamscape

Photo Edits/Manipulations

@gundamwing-ellesmith

What if Gundam Wing was real? - Chang Wufei’s office ft. Sally

Headcanons / Meta / Discussions:

@lifeaftermeteor

L5′s origins and history

@robo-rad

Pet headcanons

Multiple Contributors

White Fang meta discussion

Fanart:

@anaranesindanarie

Pilots as pixies

@constantscribbles

Relena meme

@duointherain

Duo

His Excellency, Mayor of the Confederate Second LaGrange States, Duo Maxwell

@drkstars-art

Quatre stickers

@elfbingo

Duo VS Wufei a commission for @lifeaftermeteor 

@forksplitdoorknob-blog

Gundam desktop wallpapers

@napalmarts

Post-war Duo and Heero

@noelleian

Meilan Long

@shigerugal

Gundam Titans

@zibelinbelt

Gundam Wing PDF cover

Calendar Events:

Cocktail Friday

https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/

A new prompt every Monday!

Submissions should be posted Fridays between 3 and 5pm EST, and tagged with @gwcocktailfriday, and are included in the This Week roundup on Sundays.

Interview with a Creator by @remsyk-blog @interview-with-a-creator

Remsyk has created an online interview for fandom creators to fill out and then she features one each week so that everyone in the fandom can learn a bit about each other.

If you haven’t filled out her interview, go! do! now!

This week’s featured creator is @ellewritesfiction check her interview out here!

Discord Meet Up!

@lifeaftermeteor has organized our next fandom-wide Discord Meet

You can join the channel at any time (it is permanently open), but “official” events will start around 0900 EST both April 28 and April 29 and run until…well, whenever!  Fans are encouraged to pop in and out of the channel as their schedule and time zone allows.  

More information can be found here

Diamonds in Stars Challenge

@terrablaze514 has posed an OT5 challenge to the fandom!

Hello Gundam Fans! April is the month of Gundanium and the warriors who use them. It is also the month where Art and Creativity is celebrated. 

Those who are interested will write an OT5 (friendly, platonic or romantic). A diamond has five points, just like a star. This challenge is just for fun; writers are free to choose which trope, type, rating, genre, etc. to work with. If you want to write a poem about Gundam Wing (pertaining to the five pilots, gundams or other major characters) that’s a bonus! So send your shooting star here (or post on AO3). Make sure you tag it as #diamondsinstars or #gwdis. Entries are due on April 30th. Have fun! 

30 Day Gundam Wing Challenge

Daily questions about Gundam Wing. Please tag your participation posts with @gundamwing30daychallenge for them to be recognized.

Challenge questions and more information can be found here

Pick and choose which questions you wish to answer (or tackle them all!). The point of this challenge is to stimulate fandom participation and to promote conversation and interaction between all fans!

[signsofptsd]

PTSD Treatment In San Diego

Our PTSD Treatment in San Diego

The event may have happened yesterday. It may have happened a decade ago. Whenever it was, that trauma changed things for you or someone you love. It left behind anxiety, nightmares, and fear of ordinary, everyday events: post-traumatic stress disorder.

Though the experiences may feel monumental, there is help and hope available at the Mental Health Center of San Diego. Participating in treatment at MHCSD can help bring your life back to normal again.

What Is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and What Causes It?

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a condition that occurs after living through trauma resulting in exaggerated fear in normal life, flashbacks, and feelings of danger. Post-traumatic stress disorder causes changes both physiologically and mentally. Treating it means tackling both. It can also mean confronting the causes in psychotherapy.

The Impact of Trauma on the Brain

When scientists take images of the brains of people who experience PTSD, they can see physical changes.  One is a hypersensitive amygdala. Your amygdala is supposed to tell you when there is danger -– it’s meant to save your life. But when you have PTSD, your amygdala lies to you and says there is danger in safe situations.

Another place where changes occur is the prefrontal cortex. This should help you manage your emotional responses, but in PTSD, your prefrontal cortex essentially takes the day off without leaving anyone to modulate emotions. Both of these brain changes result from exposure to severe trauma or repeated traumatic experiences. Trauma-targeted therapies can help reverse these changes.

Sexual Assault

After a sexual assault, it is common for survivors to feel some level of trauma. When this passes into a state where doing normal things that once felt safe to them –– such as walking around their neighborhood at night or going to a party with friends –– no longer feels safe, they may be experiencing PTSD.

Violence and Combat

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder gained its notoriety when first applied to soldiers who had returned from the Vietnam War. For those who lived through violence and combat, the possibility of developing PTSD is significant.

They may be innocent bystanders in war zones, victims of gang violence, or soldiers in combat. All become equally vulnerable to unknown threats, repeated trauma, and extended periods of uncertainty, potentially resulting in PTSD.

Traumatic Accidents

Many people are surprised to find themselves experiencing feelings of anxiety or vivid, unwanted memories after surviving an accident. After all, they walked away, didn’t they?

What they must come to realize is that survival can be traumatic. Whether you suffered minor injuries in a car accident or experienced a sudden fall while horseback riding, you may be vulnerable to symptoms of PTSD. While they had a positive outcome, these traumas can still affect your brain and emotions the same as other traumas.

What Are Signs and Symptoms of PTSD?

Some of the earliest signs and symptoms of PTSD may be intrusive vivid memories when faced with a situation similar to how trauma occurred. People with PTSD may experience fight or flight symptoms, hypervigilance that expresses itself in a desire to keep their back to a wall versus an open doorway, or nightmares.

Treatment Options and Process at MHCSD

At MHCSD, we rely on evidence-based therapy. These are therapies that have been rigorously examined in studies and shown to work. Using evidence-based therapies gives you the best shot at success and utilizing your time well.

There are several different types of therapies that can be used for PTSD, each targeting a different expression of the condition. We will work to match you with a technique (or blend of techniques) that holds the most promise for you. Learn more about what we offer:

Talk Therapy

Sometimes just talking it out can help you process trauma. Talk therapy and cognitive therapy uses techniques to tackle difficult memories and intrusive thoughts.

Exposure Therapy

Getting exposed to the thing that is causing you stress and anxiety might sound counterintuitive. However, when used as a therapy in a controlled way to gradually reduce your anxious response to the traumatic trigger, it can help reduce symptoms overall.

Using Medications

Medications are an essential part of treatment for PTSD. Your provider can advise you on which kinds may work for your unique situations. Anti-anxiety meds and anti-depressants may help your brain along while you work on treatment exercises in therapy.

The Benefits of Working with MHCSD

Even if your trauma happened years ago, there are still many reasons to seek treatment. In fact, if you’ve been suffering for years, that may be all the more reason! We can help you regain some of what you’ve lost to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder through tailored trauma-focused psychotherapy.

All our professionals are highly qualified, licensed, experienced, and passionate about being there to get you back on your feet. We stay engaged even after your therapy comes to an end to ensure you have the support you need to continue progressing in life.

Affording Treatment

You should never be turned away from treatment because of your inability to pay. That’s why the Mental Health Center of San Diego partners with many insurances, including Cigna, Aetna, Anthem BlueCross, Anthem BlueCross BlueShield, and UnitedHealthcare.

Check with your insurance before making an appointment to understand the extent of your coverage and if you will be responsible for any portion. If we are not in-network, verify that you can submit your receipts to your insurance after paying upfront.

Speak with our admissions staff for any payment details. We accept a variety of payment options to ensure you get the help you need as soon as possible.  There is a way to get help – affordably.

Get Help with the Mental Health Center of San Diego

Don’t suffer in silence. You can’t undo the trauma you experience, but you can take steps forward to begin living life again. The Mental Health Center of San Diego PTSD trauma-focused psychotherapy can help you or someone you love begins to deal with vivid memories, revisit traumatic situations, and reduce your anxiety.

Call (858) 258-9883 today to set up your intake.

[jordan202]

The Journey - Part Twenty-Two

Thank you @jia911!

Previous chapters are HERE. 

Timeline for Part 22:

Owen and Amelia deal with the fallout of their respective patients’ surgeries. And after a long time of absence, Owen finally comes back to Seattle following the events of episode 11x22 and what immediately happens after that. 

The Journey – Part Twenty-Two

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break? I can take turns with you so you can actually sleep.”

Owen was startled by the familiar voice of April Kepner and opened his eyes with surprise, blinking repeatedly before coming back to his senses  completely.

“I am fine.” He lied, unwilling to admit how exhausted he was. “Go get some rest, Kepner, we have a lot going on tomorrow.”

April stared at her friend with disbelief and disapproval stamped on her face. It had been nearly thirty-six hours since a group of rebels had opened fire against their camp. Everyone was scared and drained. By being a medical support team, they weren’t usual targets for terrorists or even smaller groups rebelling against the government in the countries they had visited. And to most people, including April, that had been an entirely new and frightening situation.

One person in special had lived the most terrifying moment of his life. Private Danny Hill was now in recovery, but April could remember with details the excruciating six hours of surgery when she’d stood with Owen in a makeshift medical tent, working on the boy’s abdomen while hearing gunshots and grenade noises outside. They’d needed all the focus and skill to salvage the patient’s liver. During the entire time, she had only kept her serenity and ability to work because of her mission leader.

Even when the noises had become dangerously close, Owen hadn’t flinched. His courage inspired April. She knew that if it weren’t for her friend, the medical staff wouldn’t be able to perform and Private Hill probably might not even be alive.

For the followings hours, the kid had pulled through an unstable and difficult recovery while the rest of the team assessed the damages following the unexpected attack. A lot of their supplies had been either destroyed or sacked. A homemade bomb had completely devastated one of their ward tents, hurting one patient that was admitted at the time and now also demanded more medical attention. Their stock of food had also been severely lowered, and on top of that, their satellites and phones were also compromised, making it difficult for them to stay in touch with the command base to which the team reported.

Their return home was scheduled for a few days after New Year’s Eve, but April supposed they would anticipate it, considering the current situation of their facilities and the morale of the group. Everyone looked sad and deeply affected by the events.

Everyone but Owen.

April hadn’t failed to notice that while her colleagues seemed scared, afraid or simply unmotivated, their leader had been nothing but supportive to the whole team so far. He hadn’t left Danny’s bedside for one minute, afraid the kid might oscillate in his unstable condition. But April knew that in order to take care of everyone else, Owen first had to make sure he was fine.

“I can stay with him, Owen.” She insisted. “You haven’t slept in two nights, it’ll do you no good to stay in that chair when you could easily go to bed and let me take over.”

“It’s fine.” He stubbornly replied, smiling at her in an attempt to pretend he was okay but the dark circles around his eyes said otherwise.

“Is it just me, or did you actually become attached to this kid?” April teased, knowing she was being sincere. But she expected Owen to deny it, and that’s exactly what she hoped to use to convince him. “You haven’t been able to leave his side.” April explained after noticing the look of confusion on Owen’s face. “That’s the only possible explanation for you not wanting to leave.”

“Of course I am not attached.” Owen repeated the word with rejection, obviously trying to sound like he didn’t care about the kid in a special way.

“Hill is annoying, I know.” April looked at the boy’s pale face on the bed and smiled with care and affection, being assaulted by nostalgia. “He won’t ever shut up and his ability to make jokes and be happy, even at six in the morning can be infuriating.” She added, making Owen laugh. Those facts were no secret among the team. “But I have never seen a group of grown men cry this hard when I had to tell the soldiers that he got shot.” April said with consternation. “And ever since we got here, there wasn’t a day when Hill failed to remind everyone how much he wants to be like you.”

Owen furrowed his brow, looking up to his friend with a questioning look on his face. April immediately picked up on the unasked question and explained.

“You are his hero, Owen.” She smiled with affection, praying for the boy to recover fully as soon as possible. “You are the example he has. And now that you’ve saved his life, I believe he is going to put you in an even higher pedestal.”

Owen felt his heart constricting, and his shyness at April’s declaration became clear on his face.

“He probably saved mine too.” The trauma surgeon admitted with a sheepish tone. And when he noticed that this time it was April who had doubts, he explained, “I mean, I have no idea what could have happened, but he spotted the rebel group coming from behind my back and warned me. That’s what made me jump.” Owen recalled the moments. It felt like a lifetime ago but it hadn’t even been two days yet. “If he hadn’t, God only knows how I could have been shot on the back of my head... I probably owe my life to him.”

April seemed to be emotional for a while, absorbing the information. When Owen was sure she was going to say something meaningful, his friend commented:

“Just… For God’s sake, don’t tell him that? He is going to be even more annoying if he hears it.”

When their eyes met, both surgeons cracked up laughing, finding a much needed outlet for a long journey of exhaustion, both physically and mentally.

Months later, after the boy had already made his recovery, the US Army would honor Private Daniel Robert Hill when they awarded him with a Silver Star Medal for his act of heroism by putting his own life at risk to warn his team of an upcoming enemy attack.

And years later, Owen would also honor Hill by naming his third and fourth son after the brave young man who’d saved his life that Christmas day.

.

Amelia was going through some patient files, trying to fix the mess she had just made by placing some documents completely out of order. Just that morning, her resident had once again pushed the neurosurgeon’s buttons by implying Amelia should seek professional help for dealing with grief. Even though she had cut back on the dark humor jokes, Amelia would still spend most of her time at the hospital, now more than ever.

Stephanie Edwards had expressed her concern and that had led to a not so friendly argument between the two of them, which had culminated with the resident proposing that maybe she should spend a few weeks in another rotation to explore all her options. Amelia had promptly agreed, relieved to see her go, but she’d done it out of stubbornness and blind pride in the heat of the moment, because one of the few things that still gave her joy was teaching. Especially an eager and talented student like Stephanie.

But not even that could ruin Amelia’s mood that week. For the first time in a long time, she had received good news and while sorting through numbered pages that were out of order, the neurosurgeon still kept her optimism as she focused on the task.

About ten days before, Jamie Donovan had crashed on her operation table and for excruciating two hours, Amelia seriously questioned if the little girl would make it. Not for one second did she give up on the patient. The surgery had been long, meticulous and extremely unsettling but ultimately Amelia had been able to evacuate the clot in time for Jamie’s symptoms to be reversible.

The little girl had faced tough days of recovery in the PICU, with extensive intravenous therapy and constant monitoring. About a week later, right around New Year’s eve, she had been discharged to a ward room, being almost fully recovered with no neurological deficits, which was quite impressive considering the events she’d gone through. Amelia supposed that the only reason why Jamie hadn’t developed complications was because the diagnosis had been made quickly and accurately. If they had waited another hour or maybe even less, the outcome would most likely have been completely different.

Then, two days into the New Year UNOS had called and delivered the best news Amelia and Jamie’s family could hope for. A pair of lungs was available in Portland and the designated recipient was in no condition to receive them. Since they had just found out at the moment of surgery, the organ had to remain there and they transported the patient instead.

Amelia had barely had any time to say goodbye to Jamie when the helicopter came to take her. That evening, the neurosurgeon’s spirits were as anxious as they could be. But then hours later Jamie’s mom had called to notify everything had gone well. Amelia knew the little girl still had a long road of recovery ahead, but everything was on the right track. The actual possibility of Jamie making it and being discharged from the hospital gave her such immense joy that Amelia felt like nothing could ruin her mood that day.

But then, the neurosurgeon’s distracted mood was interrupted by a familiar face who looked so weary that Amelia immediately felt concerned.

“Mrs. Hunt?” The neurosurgeon studied the elderly woman coming in her direction with a heavy frown on her face, noticing how hesitating she looked. From what the neurosurgeon could gather, Evelyn was all alone, which definitely couldn't be a good sign. Instantly, Amelia had a bad feeling about that visit. “Are you okay?”

“Hi, Dr. Shepherd.” Evelyn replied a bit sheepishly, but sounded firm and determined. “Please call me Evelyn.”

Amelia quickly glanced sideways, checking around them to see if anything unusual was happening. After realizing how intimidated and unsure Evelyn Hunt looked, the neurosurgeon gently guided her to a more private corner.

“What brings you here?” Amelia asked with concern, wondering what was the cause for that visit to the hospital in the middle of the day. Evelyn seemed fine, at least physically. Last time Amelia had seen her, Owen’s mother had suffered a domestic accident and had to undergo extensive surgery. “Did you have a fall or…?”

“This visit is not about me.” Evelyn interrupted Amelia, her voice sounding atypically broken as she looked the younger woman deeply in the eyes. “I came because of Owen.”

“Owen?” Amelia replied, feeling her stomach churning. Evelyn looked pale and distressed, like she hadn’t slept well in days. And the neurosurgeon was sure that could only mean bad news.

“I was wondering if… If by any chance he has made contact with you in the last few days?” Evelyn inquired hesitantly, going straight to the point. After seeing the look of confusion on Amelia’s face at the question, she clarified. “I’ve asked Jackson too, I just…” Evelyn stopped, noticing how everything she was saying wasn’t making any sense to Amelia. “I am sorry.” She shook her head in denial. “It was stupid of me to come here, I was just so desperate that I didn't think this through.”

“Evelyn,” Amelia interrupted her rambling. “What are you talking about? What about Jackson? I… I am not sure I…”

“Jackson Avery and I have been exchanging messages ever since my son and his wife left with the Army.” Evelyn explained, seeing how the neurosurgeon was following up. “It’s not always that the two of them can contact home, so whenever one of them does, we tell each other. But ever since Christmas Eve, both Jackson and I haven’t been able to reach neither Owen, nor April.” She added with sorrow and concern.

Amelia felt her stomach churning in protest and tried her best not to freak out completely.

Her head was spinning with the obvious possibility, but Amelia tried her hardest not to consider it. The thought alone of Owen being injured or worse made her want to drop to her knees.

“Have you tried contacting the Army?” She aimlessly asked the first thing that came to mind, feeling desperation start to consume her. During all those months, Amelia hadn’t heard directly from Owen but she did hear people at the hospital commenting and so far, she knew he was okay. Lately, she hadn't seen much of Jackson at the hospital but Amelia had been too busy to consider what his relative absence could mean. “I am sure they would have information on…”

“I did.” Evelyn interrupted her again. Owen’s mom had served and she knew how those things worked. Her son and his friend were completely out of reach and no one had any satisfactory explanation to give. All they would tell her was that his team had lost contact and they were working on tracing their location. “Jackson mentioned that on Christmas he was just talking to April on the phone when…” Evelyn’s voice faltered.

The neurosurgeon immediately picked up on the hint that the news to follow weren’t good. Feeling like she was once again entering a nightmare, Amelia swallowed hard, unsure she was ready to hear the rest of that sentence.

“From what Jackson could gather, their camp was being attacked. He heard gunshots. And the last thing he saw was Owen asking April for help with a patient.” Evelyn finalized, tearing up. “And I have tried everything within my power to find out what happened to my son…” The older woman couldn’t hold her emotions any longer, discreetly shedding tears while speaking with a broken voice. “I contacted old friends, I sent out emails, I event went to the Army office in person. But no one has any information to give and Jackson hasn’t had any success either… Not even with his family’s influence. I feel like I have tried everything I possibly can, but I still don't know what's happened to him… So I remembered you and I thought, maybe Owen called you during this period?” She raised her eyes expectantly. Evelyn Hunt had once supposed her son and the beautiful neurosurgeon standing in front of her were somehow emotionally involved. She hadn’t wanted to pry so back then she hadn't asked, but right now, hearing about Owen was more important than respecting people’s privacies.

“He hasn't, I am sorry.” Amelia tried to console the elderly lady. She bit her bottom lip to hold her own emotions as she tried her best to come up with nice words to comfort Evelyn, but at that moment, Amelia couldn’t formulate a two-word sentence. Her mouth was dry and her pulse was racing. The slightest notion that Owen could have been shot and killed in an Army camp made her want to scream in terror. This was beyond any nightmare she could have possibly imagined. “Owen hasn't spoken to me ever since before he left.” Amelia admitted with a somber voice, feeling her throat constricting with a familiar sense of terror. She could feel her palms getting sweaty by the minute. Amelia had never felt like that before, but she supposed that was probably what a panic attack felt like.

“I am so sorry to disturb you at your work…” Evelyn said with sincerity, looking the younger woman in the eyes, far too caught up with her own sorrow to notice the terror on Amelia’s face. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just… I just couldn’t sit home and do nothing anymore… It’s been over a week. And I need to know if my son is okay.”

Evelyn Hunt had already lost a child to war. She wouldn’t be able to cope if she lost another one.

“You’re not disturbing me.” In an impulse, Amelia reached out and grabbed the woman’s hand, gently squeezing it. Unconsciously, she hoped that that handhold could transmit all the support the words were failing to communicate at that moment. “Please, will you…?”

Amelia’s voice failed as she processed the devastating information.

“Of course.” Evelyn understood the question without Amelia needing to ask it. “I will let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

As the older lady turned around and left, Amelia felt the weight of her body suddenly becoming too heavy for her knees to support it. That just couldn’t be true. The possibility Evelyn’s words had implied made the neurosurgeon sick to her stomach.

Everything around Amelia was spinning and she held on to the counter not to fall. She just couldn’t be there anymore. She needed to get away. Feeling dizzy all of a sudden, Amelia gathered the rest of the files she had been sorting in a messy pile and dropped them inside the first drawer she found, noticing how shaky her usually steady hands were. A nauseating feeling was building up in her stomach and her head was throbbing so violently that she had no idea how she managed to drive home that night.

Up until now, Amelia had somehow found a way to get herself together and pull through the horrible events that had followed ever since the end of her relationship with Owen. Her brother had died and her sister in law’s had disappeared with the kids, condemning Amelia to dark days of worry and agony.

She had been in a bad enough shape already but on top of all of that, Owen had left for an Army tour and his absence had left a void in Amelia’s heart that she hadn’t been able to fill with anything. Not work, not teaching. Nothing.

Derek had been in an accident and his life had tragically ended. She’d attended his funeral and had gotten some sort of closure, at least. Her niece and nephew were far too young to have any saying on where they were taken. And Amelia knew they were with their mother, so at least the two kids were being looked after.

But Owen had gone to a war zone and put his life at risk. He had left and Amelia had stayed behind, trying to pick up her pieces all by herself. She knew she hadn't exactly been easy to him, that she had spitefully told Owen that there was nothing for her in Seattle and that most likely had accounted to his decision to re enlist. But now she could feel the bitter taste of the words in her mouth because what if she never saw him again?

What if she never had the chance to tell Owen the truth? To say to him how she truly felt, how he had been the only thing in her life that had kept her going after her brother had passed away… how her love for him overwhelmed and scared her, because it was the only positive and genuine feeling Amelia could find in her heart amongst so much anger and disappointment and cruelty in the world...

She didn't want to lose Owen.

And Amelia wouldn't be able to cope if she’d already lost him.

The neurosurgeon now supposed that, unconsciously, the only thing that had kept her sane in the past months was the expectation of Owen coming home one day soon. Amelia had clung to it with desperation. She avoided thinking about it, but deep down, she couldn't consider another possibility.

If only she could see him with her own eyes and be sure he was alive and well… That would be enough to make her at least get some sleep at night. Even if he never spoke to her again, Amelia needed to know he was okay.

The house was dark and empty as the neurosurgeon expected it to be. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come back home and actually spent more than a couple of hours there. The used mugs on the sink were a proof that someone still lived there, but Amelia just couldn’t stand the sight of it all.

The toys scattered in the living room were a heartbreaking memory of the happy moments she’d spent sitting on that playing mat with Zola and Bailey. Her brother’s favorite overcoat was still hanging on the foyer by the door. And the photographs of a once happy family framed on the living room were a cruel reminder that no happiness lasted too long. At least not in Amelia’s life.

And on top of that, through the window across the large yard, an empty large trailer remained locked and untouched, much like Amelia’s emotions inside her heart until that day.

Quickly sweeping those thoughts from her mind, the neurosurgeon made her way upstairs, feeling the physical exhaustion and emotional drainage consuming her. Amelia would give nearly anything to have a drink right now. She had to resort to her last ounce of self-control not to assault the liquor cabinet downstairs and get numbed to endure the pain she had been put through.

And then, as she walked into the second floor bedroom, her eyes immediately spotted a familiar painting hanging on the wall.

“You can’t have romance without a stomping cow playing the piano in front of a farm field.”

Owen’s voice once filled with so much warmth and affection had teased her right before he’d playfully stolen a kiss from her lips. Amelia could still vividly remember the scene as she played it in her head.

Owen had gotten that that painting for her in their first official date. He had actually made a bid on it at an auction because Amelia had made jokes about the questionable piece of art and he’d found her honesty refreshingly amusing. When she’d brought it home, Amelia had been filled with expectations and hope for what their growing relationship could potentially turn out to be.

The tasteless, framed canvas had been the first gift Owen had ever given her and Amelia had cherished it longingly, unable to take it off the wall even after they had already broken things off. Even though the image on it was horrible, the object held an immeasurable sentimental value to her.

But now Owen had gone off to war and probably got himself killed. And Amelia couldn’t handle it. She just couldn't accept it, or even understand.

Why had he left? Why had stolen her heart like that and gone away, making Amelia unable to move on with her life, making her unable to sleep at night, to eat, to breathe until she got the smallest piece of information notifying her of his status?

His crystal blue eyes haunted her mind and Amelia sat on the tip of the bed, tearing up with pain and confusion. But her emotional outburst quickly evolved to anger as the neurosurgeon felt her heart racing and her breathing getting heavier.

How was that fair to her?! Why did Owen have to be so stubborn, so unbreakable? She was insanely mad at him for actually going to a war zone, for risking his life to save other people, for leaving her behind without even bothering to say goodbye… and for disappearing without giving Amelia the chance to tell him how much she loved him.

“Damn you!” She yelled irrationally, projecting on the painting her anger with him as she threw the object. across the bedroom in an impulsive fit of maddening rage.

The fragile frame and display glass broke into a hundred pieces as it hit a wall, causing a deafening noise to wake Amelia from her uncontrolled behavior. The shattered glass on the floor made her heart break all over again and Amelia was defeated by her own emotions.

The tears started to fall so heavily and fast that once they did, Amelia lost control completely and couldn’t hold it back anymore. In seconds, she was already sobbing as she crouched down near the destroyed painting, regretting her impulsivity. The object was now completely ruined. It was a piece of Owen she would never get to have back, like so many others she had lost when she pushed him away. And Amelia felt guilt start to consume her, adding to her anxiety and distress.

Unable to keep looking at what represent very well the status of her life at that moment, Amelia left the scattered pieces behind and turned on the hot shower, in one last attempt to calm her head. She sobbed and cried throughout the entire time she spent under the warm water, clenching her fists and hitting the cold tiles on the wall with anger and frustration at the way everything seemed to crumble whenever she tried to pick herself up and live a normal life.

Then, nearly half an hour later, after all the tears had subsided, Amelia was strangely empty and more vulnerable than she had ever felt. Her eyes were swollen, her throat was constricted and the burden on her chest didn’t feel any lighter. But strangely, it was like after letting out her emotions, even if in secret, she had regained at least some control back.

The neurosurgeon finished drying her hair and walked over to the wardrobe, pulling the first pair of clean underwear she found. Amelia was just about to search for a comfortable set of pajamas when her eyes found a grey sweatshirt, so large that it obviously didn’t originally belong to her.

Pulling Owen’s old army training uniform from the hanger, Amelia put it on, despite it being way too large for her size. She pulled up the zipper, feeling the soothing touch of the soft fabric on her skin. But what comforted her the most was the way Owen’s scent still lingered on the piece of clothing, making Amelia feel that, no matter where in the world he was right now, her thoughts and her heart were with him entirely.

.

Little did Amelia know that, at that exact time, Owen was on a flight to Seattle. His team had finally been able to wrap up the mission and resume contact with the army base they reported to. The majority of people had gone home right after New Year’s eve, but Owen and April had stayed behind, making sure Danny Hill was in fit conditions to endure such a hard and extenuating transport.

When the kid was finally able to be evacuated, a medical team had taken him to Landstuhl Hospital in Germany, giving Owen and April no option but to return home.

And Owen longed for it more than anything.

The promise he’d made Danny was still very much alive in his mind and Owen counted the minutes to get to Seattle. He knew he probably should have called his mother and notified her of his upcoming arrival, but since they were only a few of hours from home, Owen planned to surprise her.

It was late morning when their flight finally landed at the airport. He and April split a cab and once Owen realized she was going straight to the hospital to surprise Jackson, he didn’t hesitate to accompany her. He had no idea if he would find Amelia there, but just the thought of maybe seeing her filled his heart with enough joy to endure the traffic at that hour.

.

Amelia dragged her feet through the hospital corridors, feeling like she had been taken down in a physical fight. Her head was throbbing from the amount of tears she had shed the night before. And Amelia still couldn’t get rid of that faltering sensation that everything around her was slowing crumbling, drowning her further in a whirlwind she wasn’t sure how to escape from anymore.

All she really wanted to become invisible, to get through that day and maybe make something meaningful out of it. But just as Amelia was walking through the corridor checking a patient’s labs in his chart, she was gently interrupted by Richard Webber.

“Oh, Amelia, hey,” the senior chief of surgery greeted her with goodheartedly. “Got time for a cup of coffee?”

The last thing on Amelia’s mind was socializing, so she settled for a forced smile as the words coming out of her mouth sounded fake even on her ears.

“Sorry, busy day.”

“Yeah.” Richard agreed. By the sound of his words, Amelia could tell he was still hovering somewhere behind her. Much to her dismay, she was sure the conversation wouldn’t there. And just like she had foreseen it, he added. “Haven’t seen you at a meeting in a while. A long while” Richard reinforced.

Amelia didn’t want to drag the subject any further but she was didn’t have the proper state of mind to discuss that.

“Like I said, really busy…”

“Edwards mentioned something about you…”

The notion that her resident had gone behind her back to speak about her made Amelia lose what little patience she had left.

“Really?” She asked irritably while turning around, in an obvious defensive posture. “What else is Edwards saying?”

Amelia noticed as Richard gently scoffed, as if trying not to make a big deal of the situation.

“I’m not accusing you.” He clarified. “I’m checking in. You know, I get to check in.” The man said, hoping she would agree. After all, they shared an important part of their lives and had repeatedly given each other support in times of need. “That’s the kind of friends we are.”

“I do not have time for coffee! I do not have time for meetings. I don’t…!” Amelia snapped, growing more resentful by the minute. All the emotions that had overloaded her just the night before came back will force and the neurosurgeon couldn’t contain the words as they seemed to automatically leave her mouth. “My job is not make you feel better about me,” She unfairly accused Richard. “My job is to make my patients get better.” Amelia stated, thinking about Jamie and the way she had been lucky enough to save her. If Amelia hadn’t acted in the exact moment she had, Jamie might not have survived. “Do you know what can happen in the hour or two I would be wasting with you?” The neurosurgeon heatedly fired, already bordering irrationality. “An hour or two matters! They matter to me! They should matter to you. They matter to my patients.” She added with certainty, grateful that she had been spending this much time at the hospital.

Richard noticed how distressed and close to losing control the young neurosurgeon was and in that moment he was sure of he’d already anticipated. Amelia wasn’t doing fine at all. During the past months, he had been tolerating her coping mechanisms because even though he knew they weren’t the most appropriate responses, at least Amelia seemed balanced.

But in the past couple of weeks, she had been acting more unusually than ever and Richard really feared that she might relapse. As she blurted out her thoughts, Amelia’s gaze met Richard’s and she tried to make sense of what was happening, but couldn’t. Everywhere she looked, there was too much loss. Uncontrollably, Amelia’s thoughts shifted to her brother and how she hadn’t even gotten to see him before he was let go.

“If I leave and my patient dies, it’s not me who will suffer, it’s his mother, his sisters, his friends, his wife, and they will hate me…” She added cruelly, rethinking the entire situation Derek had gone through and how little details she had of the whole thing. Amelia hadn’t been included in any part of the decision making and even though she tried to ignore it, the memory stung painfully. “With everything inside them, they will hate me and you and everyone here because they won’t understand why he is gone, why people always leave...” Amelia started to lose the battle to her own emotions, not noticing how personal she was getting. Her voice broke and in her child-like tone, it was obvious her words were filled with hurt and heartbreak. Owen’s face came to mind and she had to pull a herculean effort not to break down. At that moment, her outburst had already attracted attention from a lot of the hospital staff, but the neurosurgeon remained blissfully oblivious to that. “Why everyone you give a crap about walks away or is ripped from your world without warning, without reason, in convenience stores and plane crashes and podunk hospitals with podunk doctors who don’t do what they are supposed to do which is save people!” Amelia raised her voice, thinking about all the loved ones she’d already lost, including her father, Mark, Derek, her child… She desperately didn’t want to add more names to that list and the notion alone that Owen might just join them made her sick to her stomach.

Right after her outburst, she paused to catch her breath, noticing in Richard’s lack of reaction that something was wrong.

Amelia was prepared to fight. There was so much rage brewing inside of her that nothing would please her more than engaging in a verbal battle, be it whomever was available. But judging by the expression on Richard’s face, it became clear that instead of getting angry at her, he felt sorry.

And that was more than Amelia could bear.

Suddenly, she became very aware of people whispering about her in the hallways and a fit of embarrassment and regret formed in her chest. She was just turning her head to step away from the scene when unexpectedly, her eyes caught sight of a tall blonde man dressed in combat clothes who stared back at her with a very familiar pair of amazing blue eyes.

Amelia didn’t believe what she was seeing. Maybe she really was going crazy. It had to be a hallucination.

Owen wasn’t there. He was dead… He was…

But as she looked away and tried her best to focus again, the only thing she could do was to gather her file and sneakily get out of the public place, fearing how unstable her mind was.

Amelia was deeply embarrassed to have spoken to Richard the way she had. And more than that, she was mortified by the vision she’d just had.

It couldn’t be real, could it? Seeing Owen in flesh and bone had been so overwhelming that Amelia chose not to believe it.

She really was losing it. There was no other explanation. Amelia had lost control and there was only one way she knew for sure she could get it back.

Her heart was failing. She was tired. Consumed by a chronic exhaustion after long months burying every feeling in the book under a pile of anger and work. It consumed a lot of energy to withstand that mechanism on a daily basis and Amelia had just reached her very limit.

She just didn’t know where to find the strength to keep going anymore.

Before Amelia could realize what she was doing, her feet had taken her to the fourth floor lounge where she knew a few anesthesiology residents liked to hang out.

Without ceremony, she approached a short mid twenties boy with a sickening pale skin.

“I need you to score me a bag of O.C.s”

The young man looked at her with renewed interest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied sarcastically, with a corner smile that made Amelia absolutely sure he knew just too well what she meant.

It was to be expected that a guy working under her denied the fact he was in possession of drugs, but Amelia didn’t bother with small talk.

“I am not here to play around, so let’s just get straight to it…” Amelia rolled her eyes with impatience. “What’s your price?”

The guy spent seconds looking at her, as if testing the attending to see how serious she was about it. When he finally seemed convinced, he replied:

“I want in on all your craniotomies for the rest of my neuro rotation.” The resident proposed, clearly aiming high.

Amelia scoffed with despise, lowering her voice.

“You’re insane. I am not letting a burnout like you anywhere near my OR.”

The resident took offense and looked at her in a very suggestive way.

“Looks like you and me are two peas of the same pod, Dr. Shepherd.” He smiled with pretense, looking Amelia from head to toe, clearly dismissing her argument. “So I suggest you take back what you just said.”

Amelia swallowed hard. She didn’t have an answer for that. She was a drug addict and right now, one who really needed to get something. Even if she weren’t going to use it, Amelia just needed the comfort of knowing she had it available in case everything got out of control again.

“You’re not going in my OR.” The neurosurgeon affirmed with authority. “What else do you want for it?” She asked firmly, determined to make the trade.

The sneaky third year resident slid his hands into his shoulder bag and removed a little plastic bag so sneakily that Amelia would totally have missed it in case she wasn’t directly looking.

Feeling overconfident, the young man took one step forward and very suggestively placed the bag in Amelia’s scrub pocket, on purpose taking his time.

“You know, I can think of a couple of ways you can pay me back…” He suggestively looked from her eyes to her lips and then to her breasts.

And Amelia felt nauseated.

Taking one step back with violence, she quickly got rid of his touch and stared at the man with fury in her eyes.

“You touch me again and I will make sure you don’t see the inside of an OR for the rest of your life.” Amelia threatened, grabbing the small bag inside her pocket with force. “I will keep this as an apology for what you did.”

Even though the neurosurgeon had sounded confident, on the inside she was shaking. Nothing could guarantee that young man wouldn’t go around the hospital halls spreading rumors. Her reputation was already rocky and the anesthesiology resident wasn’t exactly known for having a role model behavior.

But after being faced with her rejection, the boy gave her a corner smile, almost as if approvingly.

“Next time you need something from me, you aren’t going to take it.” He assured her. “We will be sharing it.”

The propriety with which he said the words, following by his lascivious stare made Amelia even more nauseated. Before she could realize what she was doing, the neurosurgeon found herself going back home, taking the little white pack safely kept in her pocket.

.

A few hours later, Amelia lost track of how much time she spent pacing back and forth in her brother’s front yard.

For some reason, she just couldn’t seem to enter the house. The tiny bag in her pocket was the key to make all that pain go away and even though Amelia desperately wanted to use it, she knew she shouldn’t.

It was so hard to think about everything that was happening and process it, that Amelia spent her time focusing on emptying her mind, instead. She tried not to think about Owen or her brother or even her young patient who had just received a lung transplant.

But when a deep male voice spoke from behind startling her, Amelia could feel her heart skipping a beat.

“Hey.”

The neurosurgeon turned around in surprise, instantly meeting serene blue eyes that stared at her with longing and something else Amelia couldn’t quite identify. But as Owen came striding in her direction with an expression of hope in his face, Amelia found it hard to remain disconnected.

“It’s good to see you.” He added, unsure of what exactly to say.

“Hey.” Amelia breathed out, turning her back to him in denial as she tried to contain her emotions.

This couldn’t be happening. Owen was there and she was paralyzed. After losing so many people she loved, Amelia had already learned that staying up at night wishing they would come back never made any difference. So she had pretty much given up hope. When Owen was presumed dead, she prepared herself for another round of funerals and heartbreak.

But actually seeing him alive and well was so overwhelming that Amelia was frozen.

Owen noticed the stiffness in her body language and he kept his distance, despite his wish to wrap his arms around her to never again let go. As he’d arrived in the hospital just moments before, he was not sure if he would see her again. But then he’d spotted her name in the OR board and the way his heart swelled simply overtook him. Owen had not been ready for such an intense reaction.

The prospect of actually seeing her again fueled him to take a detour just so he could check up on her. After all that time, how would Amelia be coping? Judging by the little he’d seen earlier that day when she’d ranted at Richard Webber, Amelia wasn’t nearly as okay as Owen wished she was.

He’d taken a couple of hours to go see his mother and found the woman at a mortified state of mind. But after Evelyn was finally convinced her son was in one piece, Owen just had to see the neurosurgeon again.

Preferably, in privacy.

“Feels like I’ve been away forever, but I see nothing’s changed.” He casually commented, hoping to lure her into the conversation. His eyes fell upon the remains of a branch tree upon which he’d hung a sandbag the day Amelia had willingly walked over to his trailer and confessed she wanted his company right after Nicole Herman had finally woken up from her surgery. “Except they chopped down that old tree.”

Amelia turned her eyes in the direction he was pointing, not really following up with the conversations. She was restless and didn’t know yet what was happening. Her mind just couldn’t get in synchrony with her feelings and she was growing agitated and impatient by the minute.

“Yeah,” the neurosurgeon automatically replied, too distracted to have absorbed the content of his words.

Owen noticed how anxious she looked. He waited in the hopes she would express any inclination to talk, or at least show some sort of positive feeling to see him.

Owen had waited for that moment ever since the day he’d left. All he wanted was to go to her and hold her, hoping that Amelia would be as happy to see him as he was to see her. But as she made herself even more distant and kept her silence, the trauma surgeon realized that maybe he had been too hopeful with his wishes.

“Okay, I’ll…” Owen felt his heart shattering. “I’ll see you around.” He added as he walked way, devastated to realize the woman he loved wasn’t the least interested in even asking how he was after he’d spent nearly a year in a war zone.

And just as Owen was taking his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his own feelings in check, her words cut the thin air like a blade slicing perfectly healthy skin.

“I have a baggie full of black-market Oxy in my coat pocket and I’m trying to decide whether or not to take it.”

Owen froze in his feet, instantly turning around in alarm. As he did so, Amelia shamelessly flashed him the bag, almost as if daring him to stop her from doing it.

Amelia’s words had left her lips so suddenly and impulsively, that the neurosurgeon didn’t even get to think of why she had decided to share it. For the past nine months, Amelia had been avoiding talking to anyone as much as she could.

And yet now, without asking a single question, Owen had already somehow managed to break her defenses and earn a confession from her.

The realization alarmed Amelia and she went back to her most daring mode, defensively despising everyone and everything around her in order to guard her own feelings.

“I’ve got the Dead-Derek thing completely managed.” She said in order to convince herself too. It was clear in Owen’s eyes that he didn’t believe her, so Amelia went further, testing him to see how far he could take it. “I know people were worried. Since he died, everybody’s been looking at me, waiting for me to fall apart or freak out or just… Boom! Become a mess.” Amelia knew she was scandalizing and kept on acting like that on purpose, just to see if Owen would shrug and realize she was a basket case and unworthy of his time as he walked away or if he would stick around to actually be convinced that she was indeed handling it. “Like some bomb everyone thinks is supposed to go off…” Amelia confessed, thinking about the day of the funeral and how back then everyone had looked at her expecting the youngest Shepherd to make a scene. “My mother was calling three, four times a day. Addison was calling… Everyone.” The neurosurgeon confessed, realizing that ever since her brother had died, this was the first time she actually talked about it with anyone. Her mother and Addison hadn’t been the only ones to try, even Sheldon and Charlotte had been very insistent on it, but Amelia mostly rejected their calls and replied with short messages later stating that she was fine. “It makes sense. It’s natural.” Amelia added with despise, thinking about how she’d gotten close to mourning Owen too and how that had devastated her.

Owen softened his expression, trying to quickly catch up with the unspoken words of what she was saying. It had become clear in a matter of seconds after seeing her that Amelia was anything but fine.

It was obvious in her every word and action that she was clearly in pain and Owen felt a wave of self loathing consuming himself when he thought about just how much Amelia had probably gone through, and most likely alone.

He’d left her thinking that she was surely going to count on her family’s support as she planned to move to New York, but it was obvious none of that had happened. Instead, he’d come home to find her in an erratic state of mind, most likely having gone back to doing drugs again.

Owen’s temple began to throb and he looked at the gorgeous woman standing in front of him, exhaling so much pain in every word that he couldn’t withstand seeing it.

“Every man I’ve ever loved has died, including my baby.” Amelia recalled. First her father, then her son, then her brother… How dumb was she to expect that Owen would somehow escape her toxic curse? And yet, there he was, standing up just a few feet away, deeply looking into her eyes while Amelia finally let her walls down after months of walking around in circles. “Thank you, universe. So I should be, like… Greek tragedy, turned to stone, bat-crap crazy, but I’m good. I got this. I am fine. I’m telling you, I’m amazing. I am saving lives left and right.” Amelia added, not sure if her despise was at the situation or at herself. As she spoke, Owen kept staring at her with loving eyes, almost as if waiting for her rant to finish so he could intervene. The realization made Amelia even more determined to be convincing. “I am putting butts in the seats in that OR gallery. I mean, people are fighting to hear me lecture. I am entertaining! Joke, joke, joke! I’m funny! I’m fun! I’m a party! I’m doing… I’m great!” Her voice faltered as she realized she was failing to convince ever herself. How could Owen just come back from a war zone and look so together while she was one step away from completely falling apart? Beaten up exhaustion, Amelia toned down her voice and took a deep breath before saying, giving up the worked up attitude. “I’m handling the dead-Derek thing really well.”

“Okay.”

Owen kept meticulously studying her expression. He knew she was lying. She did too, he was sure. But Owen also knew that Amelia had probably not expressed her feelings in any way close to now. He had a bad feeling that, for the past nine months, Amelia had carefully kept all that pain stored somewhere deep inside of her, unable to cope with it.

“Except today, I yelled at Richard, who was only trying to invite me for coffee,” He heard her interrupt his thoughts. “And then I went and scored Oxy from this junkie doctor.”

Immediately, Owen’s expression changed from understanding to concerned. The trauma surgeon frowned as he took one step forward, clearly anxious.

“But you haven’t taken any?

“Not yet.” Amelia replied, finally encountering some emotion in him. She noticed how her revelation had alarmed him, and unconsciously tested his limits, acting indifferent and uncaring just to see how far he’d stay to stop her. “But I might.” She raised her eyebrows in clear defiance. “That’s the thing. I really actually might.”

It didn’t take Amelia long to figure out he wasn’t going anywhere. The realization touched her at the same time it brought back all her anger at him for endangering his life when the single thought of losing him had nearly devastated her.

“I have been sober for one thousand three hundred twenty one days, Owen.” Amelia heard her own voice breaking. “I was fine. I was managed. But I might.”

Owen saw the stubbornness in her eyes and had to control an urge not to go to her and put some sense into her head with his touch instead of his words. It’d been too long since the last time he’d been able to hold her. And he wanted that, more than anything.

Amelia was hurting deeply. She had every reason to. And because she probably had never been taught how to cope with pain very well, she was acting out like a child throwing a tantrum, longing for the limits, acceptance and consolation she had never been offered.

“All this stuff you’re managing…” Owen crossed his arms behind his back, using his best authoritative voice. In a matter of seconds, Amelia’s response went from angry and frustrated to retreated and vulnerable. He noticed and softened his voice, trying to give her the understanding she had very likely never received during that time. Perhaps not in her entire life. “You’re not supposed to be managing it.” Owen took one step closer. “You’re supposed to be feeling it. Grief, loss, pain. It is normal.”

“It’s not normal.” Amelia chided, irritated. None of what happened was normal. Losing that many people, seeing so much pain… None of that slightly normal.

“It is.” Owen insisted. In that moment, Amelia turned her back and walked away, refusing to hear what she supposed would come next.

Just like everyone else, Owen would tell her much of a failure she was. That while everyone else just toughened it up, it was Amelia who was the weak one for allowing her feelings to get the best of her.

“It is normal. It is not normal to you because you’ve never done it.”

Amelia stopped walking, surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. She looked up to meet his eyes, confused and intrigued at the same time, but Owen didn’t seem to notice any of that as he insistently stood in her way, forcing her to hear what he had to say.

“Instead of feeling it, feeling the grief and the pain, you’ve shoved it all down and do drugs instead. Instead of moving through the pain, you run from it. You…” He straightforwardly explained. Amelia was grateful in that moment that he didn’t dance around the subject, or talked about it like she was a monster for resorting to drugs in the first place. It was the first time someone talked about her addiction without an ounce of judgment and the realization awed her.

Her vision got blurry when tears started to assault her eyes, but Amelia was still able to notice how affected by his own words Owen also became. It was like he had just had an epiphany.

Too mortified after realizing he had done the same thing he was accusing her of, Owen sat down, feeling the worst he’d felt since he got there.

“Instead of dealing with being hurt and alone and afraid that this horrible, empty feeling is all there is, I run from it.” He courageously admitted, flashing his army cap in surrender. “I run off, and I sign up for another tour of active duty.” Amelia noticed how disturbed he was and in that moment, she felt sorry for him too. It was obvious Owen was hurting just as much and not for the first time, she wondered who was ever there for the man who took care of everybody else with such fiber and courage when he needed a shoulder to cry on.

“We do these things. We run off, and we… And we medicate. We do whatever it takes to cover it up and dull the sensation, but it’s not normal.” Owen exposed the wound, unaware of how much he was getting to Amelia at that moment. His words were describing her reactions exactly, and Amelia had never felt so understood. And by including the simple fact that he wasn’t that much different made Amelia hate herself a little less. Because if Owen, of all people, was capable of failing too, then maybe she wasn’t really that bad as she was made to believe. Amelia had no dimension of just how much she admired him and to see him share the same feelings as he deeply touched her heart. “We’re supposed to feel. We’re supposed to love, and hate, and hurt, and grieve, and break, and be destroyed…” Owen got up, focusing his entire attention on her again, noticing how affected she had become. “And rebuild ourselves to be destroyed again. That is human. That is humanity. That’s… That’s… That’s being alive.” He explained. “That’s the point. That’s the entire point. Don’t… Don’t avoid it. Don’t extinguish it.”

Amelia stood in silence, feeling her heart swelling as tears assaulted her eyes.

During most of her life, she had been censored every time she expressed any emotion that wasn’t convenient to the people around her. Until all those feelings had culminated with a drug addiction as a desperate measure to shove them all down. Amelia had learned the hard way that it didn’t work. So she just coped with things the way people around her usually did.

And now this wonderful man stood in front of her and encouraged Amelia to do what she had desperately wanted to do her entire life, but never could. Until she had grown too afraid of her own reactions to even consider it.

“Derek died.” Amelia admitted with a broken voice, for the first time processing the dimension of those two simple words. Owen knew his eyes were tearing up too when he nodded affirmatively, anticipating what was about to come. Amelia would break down and his heart would be torn in two, but she had to do it, for her own sake. It was long overdue, and she needed that more than he needed not to see her suffer. “He died. I don’t want to feel it. I… I don’t think I can. I don’t think I even want to…” Amelia felt herself losing control and fought the familiar sensation of spiraling down. Immediately, she reached out for her pocket where the bag of oxy had been shoved down. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“You have to. If you don’t…” Owen tried to reason.

“No, I can’t. Shh! I can’t do this!” She insisted, sniffing soundly.

“You… You have to.” Owen raised his voice to interrupt her. Once he was sure he had all her attention, he added with certainty. “If you don’t, that bag of Oxy is not going to be your last.”

Amelia looked into Owen’s eyes, breathing in and out heavily. She had a decision to make and she knew it.

She could take the easier route and simply go back inside, make all of her problems disappear with that small white bag and simply live to see another day. It wouldn’t hurt, quite the contrary. It would cause a much needed feeling of bliss that she hadn’t felt in a very long time… Probably ever since she had allowed herself to be happy with Owen while worrying about nothing.

Or, she could give up the drugs, keep her sobriety and drown in the worst sensations. Amelia knew it was the only way to make all that pain go away permanently, but she rejected the sorrow with her entire being. She’d already had to process the loss of too many people she loved, so the neurosurgeon knew how cruel and soul shaping the experience could be. She wasn’t ready for it. She didn’t have any reason to choose this option.

And yet, the man she loved stood in front of her offering Amelia a lot more than she probably deserved. And she had to do it. For him, but mostly for her.

Giving the bag of oxy one last look, Amelia stretched out her hand, finally giving it up. And with that gesture, she also made her choice.

The moment Owen’s hand touched hers to collect the bag, Amelia was assaulted by the weight of nine months of unshed tears. A scream of utter pain and sorrow left her lips and she had to support her hands on her knees not to lose her balance.

Owen heard her weeping and took a deep breath to be able to endure it. Seeing Amelia breaking down like that was worse than anything else he’d experienced in the past months.

Also surrendering and accepting the pain, Owen kneeled down beside her, catching her as she fell.

“You’re going to be okay.” He assured her, relieved to finally have her back in his arms. It had been too many agonizing months in which Owen had dreamed of it. Finding Amelia in that condition had certainly not been what he imagined, but he was determined to never let her go again. “You’re going to survive this, okay?” Owen promised, gently caressing her hair, overwhelmed by just how much he missed it. “Everybody does.” Among her cries, Amelia finally wrapped her arms around his neck, giving Owen the confirmation that she too had been waiting for that moment. Now that she was with him, he could finally breathe in peace again. With a smile of joy and relief, Owen finally relaxed, focusing entirely on comforting her. Amelia’s wellbeing was the most important thing at that moment. “It’s perfectly normal. It’s boring, even. It’s so normal.”

Owen closed his eyes and kissed the side of her face, grateful to the universe that he was back home again in time to prevent a disaster, and that she was there, safely kept in his arms. Despite the shape she was in at that moment, the trauma surgeon kept his positivity because from now on, Owen would take care of her. He would make sure she was okay, no matter what.

They lost count of how many minutes Amelia stayed in his embrace, crying her heart out. Slowly, Owen got up with her, but didn’t let her go for one second. Soon enough, Amelia buried her face between his neck and his chest. He could feel her tears wetting his clothes, adding to his own pain. Owen was relieved for her that she was finally letting it all out, but seeing her do it was incredibly devastating for him too.

“You left…” Amelia broken voice interrupted the silence, shattering what little self-respect Owen still had left. “You went away and I thought you’d died out there.”

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry,” Owen tightened his grip around her, cursing the heavens for not having the peace of mind to stay when she probably needed him the most.

“You left and it’s all my fault.” Amelia added with a muffled voice, surprising him. Just as Owen was about to ask what she was talking about, she finally brought her head up, staring at him with those gorgeous silver eyes filled with so much sorrow and regret. “I know I said I…” Her voice broke once again as a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I didn’t mean to…” She pleaded with a trembling lower lip. “I never meant to… Owen,” her voice was nearly a whisper now. “I am sorry…I am so sorry…”

Owen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, or else he’d risk breaking down too. He wrapped his arms around her even tighter, not quite believing what was happening. Amelia was in pain, part of which he’d inflicted not only by leaving but also by adding to her concern and yet now she stood in his arms, asking for his forgiveness for the way she had reacted. And the thing was, Owen couldn’t even blame her.

“You’re going to be okay now.” He assured her, holding her face with one hand while his other arm kept a steady grip around her waist. “There’s nothing to be sorry for… You’re okay now…” Owen repeated, assuring himself just as much as he assured her. His lips brushed on her temple as he felt Amelia melting in his arms again.

They were immersed in a comfortable silence, both dealing with the repercussions of that moment individually.

For months, Amelia hadn’t been able to relax, drowning in work to distract herself from everything that had happened. Her many sleepless nights had only added to her discomfort, causing more anxiety in a pattern that never seemed to break. Just the day before, she thought she lost Owen too, and that had been the final drop to send her in a downward spiral.

But Owen had come back, found her and rescued her in time. Amelia thought back about the many other times when she’d needed him and how he’d never failed to be there.

“Will you…” She hesitated as she looked up to meet his eyes, unwilling to let him go. Amelia looked scared, like she was afraid he would say no to her question. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

Owen felt the soft touch of her hand on his chest as her amazing blue eyes stared at him with so much vulnerability and pain that he knew what he was going to say before he even processed the question. He dug his fingers through her locks of soft brown hair, rejoicing in the familiarity of her scent.

Amelia smelled like home.

“Please, don’t leave me again.”

Her voice was so broken and her expression so desperate that Owen felt one tear rolling down his face too. She thought she had to convince him. Owen leaned over, kissing her forehead for long seconds, trying to assure her that he wasn’t going anywhere.

It was his first night back in the city. He had barely even gone to see his mother yet. His trailer was neglected, being locked for so long and he’d barely had any time to rest, spending nearly a day flying halfway across the world to come back. Everything in his life had been put on hold. His job, his house, his family.

But the only thing that would bring him any peace of mind tonight was being with the one who’d occupied his thoughts every day for the past nine months. And luckily for Owen, she didn’t seem to want to leave his arms any more than he wanted to let her go.

Using his thumb to wipe another stubborn tear from falling on her gorgeous face, Owen tenderly smiled at her, eager to comfort her in any way he could.

“Of course I will stay.”

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