#blind eye shooter

[0ratattack0]

Tools of an outlaw + the followers

Plus some dynamic practice poses/Sketch of Fidds!

Slow on making content of the AU but I think he’s just neat :))

[miragiri-haruto]

Praying they got the wrong guy 🚶🏻

It sounds sus anyway cuz who brings all the evidence to a McDonald’s???

[spinningbagel]

Uhh felt like my delightful(debatable) presence was lacking. Been pretty busy, went to Hobart (Tas) with a friend for a couple days and my family is moving into a new house so fun.

Anywayzz drawing dump to make up for that I guess

[citrusella-flugpucker]

[image description: Toph, a blind earthbender from Avatar the Last Airbender, aiming a Fortnite gun with a scope]

So... like... blind shooting is a thing. It's even a Paralympic sport in both the summer and winter! (In summer, shooting is its own sport. In winter, shooting is part of biathlon (cross country skiing race with a shooting portion that can cause you a penalty on the cross country portion for missed shots). Both Paralympic events also include other classifications for physically disabled sighted athletes.)

Here's a video (one of many on YouTube) that goes over blind people taking up shooting as a sport!

In most modern competitions, the rifles for blind classifications use a "scope" that senses where the target is and communicate how on-target the shooter is by changing the pitch of a constant tone the shooter hears and "shoot" a laser.

And what is Fortnite if not virtual laser tag?

...Actually, I think it could be super interesting (and an increase in accessibility in some ways? maybe?) to include this kind of shooting tone as an accessibility option. Get on that, Epic.

TL;DR: I see nothing wrong with Toph existing in Fortnite. But in the context of Fortnite's available accessibility, I think they should add more blind accessibility. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk

Fortnite, are you sure about this? Did you think it through?

[millers-girl]

fallout

sequel to bitter/sweet - a Dr. Jack Abbot (The Pitt) fanfic

pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

summary: you and your sister plan to spend the day at Pitt Fest but instead spend the night in the hospital, and Jack is left to pick up the pieces.

warnings/tags: mentions of an active shooter, gun violence, ptsd/trauma response, grief and loss, implied survivor's guilt, slow burn, hurt/comfort, grumpy x sunshine, food as a love language, age gap, mild language

word count: 5.1k

a/n: oops accidentally made this love story my entire personality

Jack rushed through the sliding doors of the ED, the familiar, sharp scent of antiseptic welcoming him back. His eyes were locked onto his phone screen, thumb twitching over the messages he’d already sent.

As soon as he’d heard it on the police scanner––“Active shooter at Pitt Fest. At least two confirmed dead. Unclear how many injured”––a sick, crawling fear had taken hold of him. It was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling, and one he couldn’t wait to get rid of. 

He’d been trying to get a hold of you. Calling. Texting. Over and over.

Where are you?

Are you okay? 

Please answer.

I’m in the ED. Come straight here if you can.

He forced himself to pocket his phone when Robby started rattling off the hospital’s mass casualty protocol to the group, but he made sure to leave the ringer on – just in case.

When the first wave of patients came in, it was like muscle memory took over. Like he’d slipped back in time, to when he was stationed in Afghanistan, boots hitting blood-streaked dirt.

Assess injury. Slap a colored band on. Treat until stable. Repeat.

A girl, maybe sixteen, sobbed as he wrapped gauze around her bloodied thigh. Her hands were shaking.

A man in his forties was wheeled in, gray from blood loss, gasping.

He sutured a gaping wound left by a gunshot on another boy’s arm. 

He couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t let himself stop.

Somewhere, beneath the routine and urgency, he was antsy, just waiting for you to walk through those doors. 

And then – you did. 

When you were gurneyed through the entrance, the fluorescent lights that usually hummed quietly in the background now felt blinding. Each flicker seemed to stab into your corneas. Your ears rang, your hands trembled, and for a second, it was all white noise. You barely registered Dr. King’s voice asking you questions, her hands checking your vitals.

You weren’t looking at her. You were scanning the frenzied room. 

And then your gaze caught his.

Even amidst the chaos––screams, alarms, blood––his eyes found yours. Jack stopped mid-step near the nurse’s station, the world narrowing for him in an instant. The clinical buzz of the ED faded. He beelined toward you like gravity itself had shifted.

“Jesus Christ, you fucking scared me.” 

His voice was sharp, but familiar – comfort laced with adrenaline. He shouldered Dr. King aside and immediately began assessing you himself. You tried to push his hands away, your injury the last thing on your mind. His hands swatted yours back, frustration flaring into the way his brow furrowed. 

“Jack,” you whispered past trembling lips. He froze, and when his eyes met yours again, they softened. You reached for him without thinking, shaking arms curling around his neck, clinging.

And he didn’t hesitate. Didn’t care who was watching. He wrapped you up, hand cradling the back of your neck, and let out a deep sigh.

You weren’t sure what kind of fight-or-flight response you had that knew being held—feeling safe—would be exactly what you needed then, but you were glad for it. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured into your matted hair, voice tight with restrained panic.

You nodded against his skin, though the movement was hesitant, slow. 

“I’ve been trying to reach you. Why didn’t you answer?” 

“My phone got knocked out of my hand in all the chaos. I didn’t even realize…”

You leaned back, and found worry still clouding his features. You released him enough to let him do his job, finally letting him examine you.

His touch was careful, but you felt how tightly he was wound – how his hands lingered too long on your skin; how he exhaled when he saw the swelling in your ankle. 

Dr. King stepped back in, clearing her throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Kinda nauseous… dizzy. I don’t know, the lights are making it hard to concentrate,” you mumbled.

The two doctors shared a look. 

“Mild concussion,” Jack said, gently wrapping his fingers around your ankle and rotating it. You winced. “Sprained. Scrapes and bruises on knees, elbows, forearms.”

He slapped a yellow band on your wrist. 

“Ow, Jack,” you muttered, tugging your hand back. 

Any other time, he would’ve rolled his eyes and teased you – made a quip about how dramatic you were.

But not today. 

Today, his fingers immediately rubbed over the spot soothingly, and his voice was soft as he apologized.

When he reached to slip a patient tag onto your wrist, he glanced up again. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s fine,” you said. “Just had a scraped arm, bruised ribs maybe. She went to help Emery in the OR.”

He exhaled quietly, then moved efficiently – pillows under your ankle, ice pack secured, orders rattled off to Dr. King. “Acetaminophen and Zofran in an IV bag. Don’t get it mixed up with ibuprofen – she’s allergic.” 

Dr. King brought the requested bags and kindly offered to hook you up to them, wanting to help in some way. Jack ignored her, still locked in his quiet rhythm as he began treating your wounds. Stopping the bleeding. Cleaning the cuts. Dressing them carefully. 

You stayed silent during the whole thing.

And it unnerved him.

Normally, you’d be rambling about something––telling a story, cracking a joke, flirting with him––to distract yourself. But now, you just watched him, eyes distant.

He didn’t push.

As he was finishing up, someone called out for him. “Abbot! Need you in the red zone!” 

“Coming!” he shouted back, eyes never leaving you until the very last second. “Hey,” he said softly, “I know it’s crazy in here right now, but try to get some rest, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Wasn’t even near the shooter. Just got trampled in the crowd… Others had it worse.” Your gaze flicked to the burgundy splatters on his surgical gown.

Jack cut you a look. “Don’t do that,” he said firmly. “You still got hurt. That matters. And I’m gonna fix it. Okay?” 

You nodded, just to keep him from worrying more.

“And keep that ankle elevated,” he ordered. As he turned to leave, you caught his hand in yours.

“Can I borrow your phone? I need to call Eleni.”

He hesitated, then pulled the phone from his pocket. When you reached for it, he tugged it back. “One call, then you rest,” he bargained.

You nodded again, the device cool in your hand as he disappeared down the hall.

Dr. King smiled kindly before saying, “Okay, you should be good for now. I’ll come check up on you in a bit, too. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”

“Thanks.”

When she left, you dialed Eleni’s number. It only rang for half a second before she was picking up and frantically asking, “Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me.”

Relief hit the other end of the line like a wave. You could practically hear her collapsing into relief before relaying the good news to the rest of the team. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, fine. Just a little knocked up.” 

She paused for a second, then said, “Knocked up? Wow, that Dr. Tall, Dark, and Broody sure works fast.” 

You huffed out a weak laugh. It felt forced. Hollow.

Eleni meant well. That was her way of checking if you were really okay. So, for her sake, you tried.

“Can you do me a favor?” you asked, looking around the chaotic room.

“Anything.” 

“Get the team to make some food for the ED. For the survivors, their families. Staff. Anyone who needs it.” 

“Yeah, that’s a really good idea. How much do you need?” 

“Everything we’ve got.” 

A beat of silence. “Everything…? Is it that bad?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. 

She didn’t hesitate. “We’ll get started right now.” 

You thanked her, hung up, and slowly slid further down the gurney, resting Jack’s phone against your cheek like a comfort blanket. It was nice to have a piece of him with you. 

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. But somehow, your body finally gave out. And, when you woke again, it was to Dr. Mohan’s voice ringing out from a few feet away. “Need help with an airway!” 

Your bleary gaze tried to focus, mind swimming through fog as Jack and Robby rushed to help her. 

“GSW to the neck with expanding hematoma and distorted anatomy. Can’t intubate him – probably hit the carotid,” she explained.

You blinked heavily, watching Jack attend to the bleeding and shout out orders in that commanding voice of his.

But it was the needle taped to his arm, feeding a blood bag wrapped around his ankle, that really caught your attention. Without lifting your head, your sleepy eyes shifted to it. 

“Are you donating?” Dr. Mohan asked. 

“O-neg, yeah.” As if he could feel your eyes on him, he glanced your way, one of his eyes dropping in a wink. “Thought I’d be more useful as a two-for-one today.”

“Show off,” you muttered weakly, rolling your eyes. 

He grinned, eyes focused on the patient before him as he put a Foley in. As he was working, he called to Perlah, asking her to get you a juice box when she got a chance. 

“Can you make sure it’s not apple?” he asked after her. “She hates apple.”  

Despite everything, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest at that.

When Perlah brought you a juice box––fruit punch––you sipped it quietly, eyes on the trauma around you. The blood. The screams. The ones who were being saved – and the ones who weren’t.

Jack returned after stabilizing his GSW patient. He didn’t say anything at first, just placed a warm hand on your forehead, thumb brushing lightly at your hairline. 

“You want some more juice?” You shook your head. “But you’re good?” 

You force a nod. “Yeah. Just tired.” 

He didn’t believe you, but he didn’t force the truth out of you either. Just made sure to watch you more closely as he continued working around you.

Sometime later, Eleni arrived – along with half the staff from Francesca. They came bearing trays of food: warm bread, hearty pastas, fruit, rice dishes, sandwiches, coffee, cookies.

The smell alone grounded people. Nurses grabbed bites between patients. Survivors’ families cried when offered plates. Even doctors paused to say thank you.

You watched it all from your bed, barely speaking – your throat tightened. 

Santos, who stood beside Jack, asked, “Is that the black cod from Francesca?” she asked, oblivious. 

Jack’s eyes flicked to the food in the familiar light pink bags, then to you.

It wasn’t the fact that you’d gotten food for the entire floor that caught his attention – it was why you’d even thought to do it. Even banged up, bruised, barely functioning – you’d wanted to look after everyone else.

He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, with new eyes. Like maybe, despite your young age and optimism when it came to seeing the best in people, Jack could still learn a thing or two from you. And maybe that was what he admired most. 

When he managed to find a minute to be back at your bedside, he didn’t say anything. Just offered you the food on his plate, making sure he saved you that sandwich you raved about so much. 

He sat beside you, in quiet solidarity. And, for a moment, in the middle of one of the worst days either of you had lived through, something in the chaos finally felt still.

When Jack left again to attend to more patients, the chaos didn’t remain still. Instead, it slowed – in the worst way.

You finally stopped moving. Stopped reacting. And, just, took it all in.

The crying, the gurgled pain, the rushed footsteps, the overheard codes being called. You can see every little thing – the crimson on someone’s shirt, the way a nurse’s gloved hands shook, the metallic scent in the air. 

Someone shouting for gauze. Another for a crash cart. A kid screaming down the corridor, clutching his broken arm, blood smeared along his cheek. 

And it was all muffled, happening in slow motion. Dull in your senses, leaving only an ache. In your bones. In your ribs. Behind your eyes. 

And then you saw them.

Robby was towering over a gurney, hands pressed tightly to a teenage girl’s chest – desperate, shaking. Her bra was soaked through. A pool of maroon darkened the sheets she was lying on.

She was already still. Limp.

And a teenage boy was sobbing her name. Leah. 

You vaguely remembered his face – Jake, Robby’s sort-of adopted son.

He’s just a teenager… meaning Leah is too.

Was too.

You silently watched Jack touch Robby’s shoulder once, gently, but Robby shrugged it off. Muttered something over and over. Continued with chest compressions everyone knew wouldn’t help.

You could see it in the eyes of the practitioners around him. In the way they hesitated before trying to help. In how nobody called to see if an OR was open. Still, they didn’t want to pull him off her. Not yet.

And something about the quiet truth of that moment sliced deep through your gut.

Before you could process it, you were pulling the IVs from your arm and sliding off the gurney. Your knees buckled for half a second, and your sprained ankle throbbed, but you forced yourself upright. Moved down the hall. Didn’t realize where you were going until your hand was on the bathroom door, pushing it open and locking it behind you.

The silence inside felt oddly louder than the overwhelming med bay.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, not recognizing the reflection. Skin smudged with soot and scarlet blood, small cuts along your hairline, a big bruise where you’d fallen and hit your jaw.

You turned the tap on, splashing ice cold water on your face. It did nothing.

The tears came suddenly and in volume, blurring your vision, and causing you to sink. Down to the floor, knees against your chest, arms hugging.

You dropped your head, trying to focus on the sterile scent of disinfectant as it stung your nose. But all you could see was blood. The stillness. The way Robby cradled Leah’s lifeless body like she might wake up at any moment.

You didn’t know how long you sat there like that. Ten minutes, two hours – time had gone strangely elastic.

A knock sounded once. Then, a key card swipe.

You flinched as the door eased open and Jack stepped inside, gait soft-footed. His brows pulled together when he saw you there, folded into yourself. 

He didn’t say anything at first. Just closed the door gently behind him and sat down beside you, back resting against the wall. His outstretched knee brushed your good ankle. 

You could tell he was itching to say something, to get you out of this funk. But you didn’t speak until you were ready, and he respected that. 

A long time passed before you looked up at him, and your chest cracked wide open.

“How come nothing happened to me?” you asked quietly.

“What are you talking about?” 

“That kid – Robbie’s kid – his girlfriend, she…” you trailed off. Shook your head. “And I… I’m here, right? I’m breathing, and I’m good, and I’m gonna have some really badass scars and a hell of a story – ”

The corners of Jack’s mouth lifted comfortingly. “Did I leave any scars when I sutured up your thumb?” You shook your head. “Then, what makes you think I’m gonna leave any behind for you to remember this by?” he tried, lightheartedly, almost teasing – but your face didn’t soften.

You were somewhere else entirely. A million miles away, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“I don’t want you to remember this forever,” he admitted, correcting himself. 

“I think I will,” you whispered. “Even if I don’t have any physical scars to remind me.” 

Jack looked at you for a long time. Then, slowly, he pulled you into his lap, pressing you gently into his chest. You didn’t resist. Just leaned in. Let yourself fold into him like you had no bones left. 

He felt safe, even if the world didn’t anymore.

His chin rested lightly on top of your head, and his voice came low, almost gravelly. 

“Sometimes surviving feels heavier than dying,” he said. “But you’re here, and that counts for something. Even if you don’t know what yet.” 

You closed your eyes, let the silence swell between you, thick and full and terrible. His heart beat steadily against your cheek, and yours slowly synched to his. 

For the first time all day, you let yourself breathe without holding back the sob. 

When your breathing eventually evens out again, your sobs subside into hiccups, but Jack still doesn’t move. Not until your fingers unclenched from the fabric of his scrubs and you shifted slightly in his arms, blinking up at him through lashes sticky with salt.

“Let’s get you back, huh?” he murmured, thumb brushing gently against your cheek, wiping away a tear. “Before King starts paging me panicking because she lost you.” 

At that, a genuine single laugh escapes past your lips. 

You nodded, letting him help you stand, steadying you with one hand at your elbow while the other rested at your waist. 

You weren’t shaking anymore, but your body felt like it had been wrung out, nothing left but raw emotion and a dull, aching tiredness. 

Back in the med bay, the gurney felt too open, but you climbed back into it anyway. Jack hooked your IV back in, checked the monitor, adjusted the pillows under your ankle and tucked you in, grabbing extra blankets because he knew how cold you got here.

Every time he passed when moving from patient to patient, he paused. Asked you if you wanted something more to eat, another dose of pain meds, or the chance to change into a fresh set of clothes.

He led you to a new bathroom, helping you change out of your bloody top and jean shorts. As he pulled the hole of an extra t-shirt he kept in his locker over your head, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your forehead, without ever saying a word.

Back in the gurney bed, now in his t-shirt and sweatpants, you felt a little calmer. By now, all the food from Francesca was gone, but he offered you a half-eaten granola bar from his scrub jacket pocket when your stomach growled loudly.

And each time he left the absence of him left behind a cold draft against your skin.

The night dragged on. The chaos outside finally slowed, like a storm passing. Wounds were closed, departments and rooms assigned. The steady beeping of monitors became the background noise of recovery, not disaster.

It was sometime past midnight when Taylor led you into an assigned room not far from the nurse’s station. When you were settled into the room––overhead lights dimmed just how you liked it and a cup of cold water at your bedside––you caught sight of Jack outside your door. 

He talked quietly to another nurse for a few minutes, then handed over a clipboard he held before making his way into your room, checking your progress.

“Are you busy right now?” you quietly asked.

He glanced down the hallway, then decided, “I got a minute to spare.” 

Yout throat felt dry, the words nearly catching a little as you spoke – even after everything you two had been through in the past few day. “Can you come lie down with me?”

Your voice sounded so small, how could he ever say no?

He blinked once, then shut the door behind him.

The bed was barely wide enough for one person, but he made it work. Shrugged off his stethoscope and climbed up carefully. His body curled beside yours, both of you on your sides, facing each other in the dim glow. He tucked one arm under your head, the other hooking around your waist to pull you closer. 

You let out a deep exhale, murmuring against his skin, “Pretty sure there’s a HIPAA violation about doctor-patient contact somewhere here.” 

Your voice wasn’t light. You didn’t smile.

But the joke still landed.

“Oh, my God,” he groaned, eyes rolling before they settled back on you. The hand on your waist rose to cup your cheek. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he whispered, before his lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss that reassured you you were going to be okay.

The silence that followed when you pulled away was full of the words neither of you had to say out loud. His hand found yours under the blanket, your fingers tangling naturally.

And, for a little while, the horrors of the day faded into something softer.

The first days back home after the shooting felt different. 

Your bedroom felt smaller, like the walls were closing in. But, it also felt comfortable, familiar. Nothing bad had ever happened here, and nothing bad ever would. 

Jack drove you home that first day. He didn’t say much, didn’t need to. He just kept a steady hand on the steering wheel and his gaze flicked over to you every few minutes. He ended up staying until his next shift, never leaving your side unless he had to.

You trailed him around the house like a shadow – when he brewed tea for you, made you breakfast, shifted through his backpack by the door. You weren’t even sure what you were so afraid of, only that when he was near, it all felt quieter. Bearable.

An hour into being back home, the two of you had settled into the couch with some show playing low in the background. You didn’t remember what it was, only the way Jack’s eyes started to flutter closed. He fought sleep longer than he should’ve.

You tugged gently at his hand, coaxing him into your room. He didn’t protest, just let you lead him, half-asleep. His body sunk into the bed, melting into sheets that smelled like you.

You couldn’t sleep – couldn’t really calm your mind when your ears were suddenly so sensitive to the noises around. Dogs barking. The garbage truck coming to pick up the recycling. A car backfiring.

Each one pulled your body taut with unease.

Instead, you watched Jack sleep. He looked so peaceful, long eyelashes brushing against soft skin. His forehead wasn’t crinkled in worry for once, even though you could tell he was running on empty this last shift. 

You reached out to gently run your fingers through his hair and it made him sleepily shift toward you on the bed, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck. The warmth made your chest ache.

When his alarm went off, he began to stir but you tightened your hold on him. Not ready to let him leave or face a cold, desolate existence without him for the next 12 hours.

Eyes still shut, he gently teased, “Clingy much?” But the softness in his tone showed you he didn’t mind it one bit.

Not when your bare feet padded lightly right behind his as he walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, nor when he got in the shower and you followed in after. 

Afterward, wrapped in a towel, you avoided looking in the mirror. You didn’t need to. You could already feel the bruises blooming, their soreness serving as quiet reminders. You stared down at your arms, your collarbone, at the places where the pain still lingered, where the memories came to life – gunshots, screaming, smoke in the air. 

You flinched when Jack shut the bathroom door, the sound too loud, too sudden. He didn’t notice… or maybe he did and just didn’t say anything.

When he was packing his camo backpack for work, his movements froze for a second, hesitating. Then, wordlessly, he pulled out your bloodied clothes from Pitt Fest, folded in a ziploc bag. Before you could even process what he was doing, he’d quickly stuffed them into the laundry machine and ran a cycle.

After he had pulled his jacket on, he approached you while you were slowly picking at the sandwich he’d made you for supper. His hands gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. 

“You gonna be okay tonight?” he asked softly. 

You nodded, though it felt like a lie. Still, he pulled you into a hug, pressing your head against his chest, and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “Call me if you need anything. Or if you get bored and wanna get your ass kicked in chess.”

That coaxed a real laugh out of you, unexpected and bright. Before the shooting, you two had been engaged in a seriously competitive match over GamePigeon. Jack had accused you of cheating more than once. You missed that.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, patting his chest when you leaned back. “Might let you win this time. Keep that fragile ego intact.”

He smirked, leaning down to meet your eyes. “Be good today, okay?” 

“Yes, Dad,” you groaned with exaggerated disdain. The wording made his brows raise and sent a shiver down his body. 

“That and the age gap… you’re gonna give me a complex,” he groaned, watching the corners of your lips tug upwards before you reached up on the tips of your toes and wrapped your arms around him. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll forget all about it when you’re elbows deep, rearranging someone’s guts,” you easily teased, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Rather rearrange your guts,” he mumbled against your lips, cupping a hand behind your neck to deepen the kiss.

When you pulled back, you tilted your head. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I’m rubbing off on you.” 

He opened his mouth again, likely to make another suggestive remark about rubbing something else off on you, but you cupped a hand over it before he could. 

“Don’t you have lives to save?” you asked, gently shoving him out the door.

You knew the house wouldn’t be empty for long—Jack and your sister had alternated shifts so someone could always be with you—but you still missed him.

Only thirty minutes passed between Jack leaving and your sister coming home. But in those thirty minutes, the washer went off and you thought you could manage the simple task of transferring your clothes to the dryer. 

After all, they were just clothes. Just pieces of cotton and thread, no longer cakes in soot and blood. They were fresh as new. 

So why couldn’t you touch them? Why did you leave the washer door open and just stare into the tub where they sat, soaked? 

By the time your sister walked in, the clothes were long gone – dumped in the trash bin outside. It was the only thing you could bring yourself to do. 

You were curled up on the sofa when she found you, TV flickering across your face like nothing had happened. She didn’t ask. She just sat beside you, and that was enough.

That’s how the days passed. Evenings with your sister – watching TV, talking about what happened, processing. Mornings and afternoons with Jack, who brought over puzzles, crossword books, a physical chess set… even a spare toothbrush which now sat happily beside yours in the bathroom. It made your heart ache every time you saw it.

You slept a lot, but even when you were awake, you were tired. Even inside the comfort of your home, you were still hyper-aware of all the noises outside, and any large crowds that passed by, voices raised. 

Yet, somehow, those hazel eyes you’d grown to find comfort in had convinced you to step outside, start going on walks. Take in fresh air again.

It wasn’t easy – you barely made it around the block, nails digging into the back of Jack’s hand from how tightly you held it – but it was progress. 

In a week’s time, you even returned to the restaurant. You were ready to face the hustle and bustle of Francesca, ready to put your mind to work and focus on something positive for a change.

What you weren’t ready for was running into Jake by the entrance. 

“Hey,” he said softly, remembering you from Robby’s stories and also vaguely recalling seeing your face on that unspeakable day. 

“Hey,” you echoed, voice just as strained. “What are you doing here?” 

“Mom asked me to pick up dinner.” 

You nodded silently, sunsure what to say next. “How are you?” 

He shrugged. “You know…” 

You did know.

“My mom’s got me talking to a trauma specialist,” he said, not sure why he was telling you. “At the hospital.” 

“Yeah… Jack – Dr. Abbot – he’s been trying to convince me to go, too.” You hesitated. “Is it… helping?” 

Another shrug. “A little, I guess. But.. I don’t know – she wasn’t there. She doesn’t really get it.” 

You reached for a napkin on an unoccupied table, finding yourself scribbling your number down before offering it to him.

“You can call me… if you want. I get it.” 

He held the napkin between his fingers, staring at the numbers. Then, he tucked it into his pocket with a slow nod. “Thanks.” 

You couldn’t let him leave without saying the next words at the tip of your tongue. “Hey… I’m sorry about your girlfriend. She seemed… pretty. I’m sure she was – I’m sure she was really great.” You found a lump forming in your throat.

He paused a minute, then said quietly, “She was.” After a beat, he added, “You know, I told her about you once.” 

You were shocked to hear that. “What?” 

“I was telling her one of Robby’s stories, about the first time he ever came to visit this place, and he got to brag to the people at the next table about how he knew the head chef. And when they asked you how you came to be there, you said by – ” 

“ – by being brave,” you finished for him, feeling tears lining your vision. 

Jake nodded. Then, as if he knew you needed to hear it, he said, “Leah would want you to be brave now… about all of it.”

That stayed with you until the restaurant closed, and you drove home, and laid in your bed for the night, getting the first restful sleep – no nightmares – for the first time in a long time.

And when you woke, it was to Jack crawling into bed beside you, rays of sun filtering through the blinds and lighting up his face. 

His hand found yours under the covers, like it always did, comforting and warm – and you sighed in contentment.

“I wanna stay like this forever,” you mumbled against his skin. “Can we?” 

“Yeah, baby… as long as you want.”

[lyjen]

Drowning

Summary: Evan’s wife is an Elementary school teacher, but when a shooter enters the school and starts shooting at teachers, (Y/n) is the first person to help. Evan gets worried as his wife doesn’t pick up her phone, but as soon as the shooting reaches the news Evan is desperate to find out where she is.

Request by: anonymous - The request

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

“So I want you to both be thinking about it. Put those two brains together, I want you to solve it and be able to explain how you solved it” (Y/n) finished her math instruction. “I’m going to give you two minutes to try and solve this question, you’re ready?” Her voice sounded through the classroom as she clicked on start on the timer which was displayed on the screen.

(Y/n) was an elementary school teacher, she teaches the fifth grade to be specific. She has her own classroom, a teacher assistant intern, and a really good bond with her students. She loves her job, she really does. There’s nothing in the world she’d rather be doing than working with children. Her husband, on the other hand, loved being a firefighter. It was his life, and in his words: he wouldn’t know where he’d be if he never started the fire academy.

When one of the kids asked her if she had a boyfriend, she told them she was married to a firefighter. The students were so enthusiastic and full of questions, so she decided to take the kids to the firehouse one day, to teach them about firefighters, dispatch and everything Bobby had to tell.

“Okay, so some of you came up with an answer and a solution.” She speaks to the group as she holds up her hand, motioning to the kids who were ready to throw their answer to her head, to hold up their hands. “Do we have a volunteer to tell us what answer they got and how they got it?” multiple hands had gone up into the air, but those hands quickly were put down when loud screams sounded through the hallways.

But it was the gunshot that went off after that which caught her attention the most. Her eyes shot towards her teacher assistant Katy, who was sitting at the desk grading some homework as she immediately dropped the pen. Katy’s eyes went wide when she realized what was happening while multiple gasps from the students filled the silence in the room.The gunshot sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s whole body, as she remembered the three words: Run, hide, fight.

That was the protocol. Run if you can, hide if you can not evacuate safely and fight if your life is in danger.

“Everyone. Hide underneath your desks” She said softly as she tried to stay as calm as she possibly could.

The students all get off their seats and follow their teachers instructions as Katy runs off to the windows and closes the blinds. Meanwhile (Y/n) gets the remote for the screen and quickly shuts it off and runs towards the lightswitch to turn it off.

“Katy, help me move this” she says as she tries to push a mid-high bookcase in front of the door to barricade it. Katy quickly moves towards (Y/n) and helps her move the cabinet, so no one would be able to get in or out of the classroom.

When the cabinet was on the right spot, (Y/n) made her way towards the kids to make sure they were okay.

“You’re okay, we’re going to be fine” (Y/n) whispered softly to one of the students who was having a breakdown. She took place on the ground and folded her legs over each other, and she rubbed her hands over the kid’s upper arm, as a sign that she was there. They were not alone.

She let her fingers wipe away the tears of the girl’s cheeks and tried to hush her. She didn’t want to draw any attention. The girl almost started hyperventilating because she was that scared. “Amelia I need you to take slow deep breaths” (Y/n) whispered almost inaudibly. The girl nodded her head as she tried to copy her teacher’s breathing pattern. “Good, through your nose and out through the mouth” (Y/n) complimented her.

Huddled up with some kids to her side, (Y/n) tried her best to calm down the kids who were having a hard time to deal with the situation. Students around her were silently crying, while they were comforting themselves and each other.

There was an ear deafening silence floating through the classroom. They could practically hear the clock on the wall, ticking after each minute that had gone by.

With every footstep she heard on the hallway outside of the classroom, (Y/n)’s heart would skip a beat. There could be children running for their lives, other teachers or the shooter choosing their next victim.

After minutes, maybe even an hour of sitting in silence, a high pitched yelp sounds through the walls of her classroom. But that scream gets cut off by a sudden gunshot. More gasps and sobs sound softly through the classroom. With wide eyes (Y/n) tries to focus on the sound of the hallway.

“No. No, what are you going to do?!” Katy’s voice whispered desperately as (Y/n) crouched down and made her way towards the door of her classroom. The assistant crawled her way towards (Y/n), who was down at the door. Looking through the little gap between the window of the door and the bookcase.

(Y/n) glances through the window and spots a fellow teacher, down on the ground while a puddle of blood is being created underneath her. “Don’t be a hero” Katy says as softly as she possibly could.

She turned her head at Katy, “She’s hurt and needs help, I can’t just leave her to..” she shrugged her shoulders, she couldn’t say die. Not with her kids around, not when they were already traumatized enough by the sounds “You know..” she continued as she shrugged her shoulders.

She couldn’t do nothing. That was not who she was.

“But the shooter is still out there.” Katy says as she desperately starts to look around her. “That’s why I need you to stay here and keep them safe” (Y/n) whispered as she pointed out at her class. Katy shook her head with a frightened look in her eyes “No.. I can’t do that” Katy sighed as she looked at the kids.

“It wasn’t a question Katy, stay here and keep them safe. Close the door behind me” She repeated one more time as she looked at her over the shoulder.

With both her hands she moved the bookcase on one end a little backwards so she was able to squeeze through the gap of the door. Her hand reached for the lever of the door, as she as silently as possible pulled the lever down and squeezed her body through the door. (Y/n) could hear the door close behind her.

Still crouching, she made her way towards her colleague and let her knees drop to the ground when she reached her. “You’re gonna be okay” she said, barely inaudible as she made eye contact with her. The teacher had lost a lot of blood, the puddle was becoming bigger with the second.

The female teacher had been shot in the chest. (Y/n) went with her first instinct, putting pressure on the wound. Without thinking, she pressed her bare hands onto the chest of the woman. The woman winced and hissed at the pain that was being pushed onto her gunshot wound. “I know it hurts, but you have to stay with me okay?” (Y/n) said as her eyes wandered from the wound to the woman’s eyes.

She was on the edge of passing out. (Y/n) could tell. The woman was blinking so fast, and she looked exhausted. “Shit” (Y/n) cursed as the eyes of the woman rolled to the back of her head. Quickly she pressed two fingers of her right hand into the skin of the neck to see if she had a pulse.

Her heart was still beating, which meant she just had to put pressure onto the wound. So the heart would have enough blood to pump around.

But then the feeling of a cold metal getting pressed onto her skin spreads a shiver down her entire body. Her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart was pounding in her chest, as if it was trying to break free from her chest.

(Y/n) was frozen in her position, hovering over the woman. Putting pressure to the wound which was still trying to bleed through the small gaps between her fingers..

“Let go” the sound of a low male voice said.

She swallowed, as she felt the metal being pushed, deeper into her skin. She slightly shook her head, “You don’t have to do this” she slowly said as she kept as still as possible. “I do, everyone in this building has to pay for what they did for me.”

A click sounded. He reloaded his gun. Just one click away from a bullet inside of her head.

“I get it.” her voice said as she felt her breathing become faster because of the adrenaline. “When they don’t see you. And no one is there to help.” She squeezed her eyes closed at the pressure of the gun that was being pushed into the side of her forehead.

“Shut. Up.” His voice hissed at (Y/n).

Tears were falling down her face as she tried to keep enough pressure on the wound of the woman. “Struggling every single day of your life, trying to find a reason to be here”

“I said shut up!” he yelled as he fired a warning shot into the concrete walls of the hallway.

She flinched at the sudden gunshot. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t give up. She needed to try, and enter his mind. Try to talk him out of it, or buy herself more time. “The bucket will fill itself with more and more water everyday. And one day, that bucket will overflow.” She tried to remain strong as her voice became more trembling by every word she spoke.

The man pushes the gun once again into her skin, the muzzle still a little warm because of the bullet that popped out a few seconds ago. A click sounds as he reloads another bullet. “And you’ll realize that you’ve been drowning.. and if there’s no one to reach out their hand...” she squeezed her eyes shut as she remained silent for a second and another tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Multiple gunshots sounded through the hallway of the school as the gun, which the shooter was holding against her head fell down to the ground together with the body of the shooter.

A gasp left her mouth as the bullets whooshed along her ears. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the body of the shooter lying behind her on his back. Lifeless.

Everything that was happening was moving in slow motion. When she looked in front of her she could see multiple swat soldiers entering the hallway with their guns pointed towards the man behind her.

“Suspect is down” one of the soldiers said into their radio’s as they made their way towards (Y/n) and the shooter.

With two paramedics following the soldiers, the paramedics kneeled down next to the female teacher which (Y/n) tried to save her life. The paramedics put down their medic bags beside them and zipped the bag open as they grabbed some gauze.

“You can let go now. We’ve got her.” the male paramedic said as he tried to get her attention by putting his hand onto her shoulder. (Y/n) was still in shock. How did she survive this? Why didn’t he just shoot her when he had the chance? Why listen to her words?

“Sorry” she said as she got back to earth. She slowly retreated her hands back to her own body as the paramedic quickly pressed the gauze down onto the wound. (Y/n) slightly flinched as she felt a hand curling around her bicep, pulling her up to her feet and escorting her down the hall to the open world. She let them. She was too shaken up to try and fight or ask questions.

______

“Hi this is (Y/n)’s phone, please leave a message after the tone!” Her voice sounded through the speaker of Evan’s phone as he ended the call before the tone could ring into his ear.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he continues to send her a text, asking her to call him back when she can.

Hen walks into the kitchen when a frown morphed onto her face. “Hey you okay?” She asked when she noticed Evan’s slightly worried face that was focussed on his phone.

Evan clicks on the send button as he slips his phone back into his pocket, and he curls his fingers around the glass of water he had made.

“I’m fine..” he sighs as he leans with his forearms onto the kitchen counter. “I have just tried to call (Y/n) multiple times but she doesn’t answer. Normally she would’ve called me back by now”

They called everyday, especially when Evan was on shift. She would call him after school had come to an end and all kids had left the classroom.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Evan laughed at himself as he shook his head. He sounded like he was going insane. As if he couldn’t live without her. But it was a routine, so when that routine gets interrupted, it feels weird.

Normally Evan was the one to not pick up, when he was on a call. But he always called her back when they were back at the firehouse. Sometimes it could take hours, but it could also be minutes. It depended on the call of course.

“No not at all.. I’m sure she will call you back, maybe she’s talking to a parent or she’s just busy.” Hen touches Evan’s upper arm as she tries to reassure him that his wife is okay.

“Yeah, you’re right..” Evan pushed himself off the kitchen counter, he grabbed his glass and walked towards the sofas. “Maybe I’m being a little bit paranoid, she’s fine..” Evan glances at Hen who gives him a nod and a pat on his shoulder.

“Turn the volume up” Eddie says as Chimney grabs the remote and quickly turns up the volume by pressing down on the button.

“We just confirmed that about two hours ago, there has been a school shooting here in Los Angeles. The remarkable thing is that the school where this happened, was an elementary school”

“Jesus” Eddie sighs.

“The police have confirmed that after about an hour and a half after the shooter had fired the first bullet, they shot down the shooter. The name of the school where this happened is the Great Oak Elementary School. Parents are arriving at the school now to pick up their kids. There’s one wounded teacher and two casualties, both were working at the school.”

“That’s horrible. Imagine you see this on the news and you have to pick up your traumatized child.” Hen says as she continues to listen to the tv.

“Can’t imagine what that must feel like” Eddie’s voice sounds through the room.

Evan was intensely thinking. Why was that name so familiar? What was it about that school that made him think that he had a connection to it? He didn’t have any kids, at least not yet. “Wait what school did they say?” Evan double checked the name with his team, to see if he heard them correctly.

“I think it was Great Oak Elementary School” Chimney says as he focuses again onto the television screen.

Evan’s heart dropped in his chest. As soon as he heard that name fall off the lips of his colleague's mouth, it felt like all of the air he had in his lungs was getting pushed out. Everything's coming together now.

It was the school his wife worked for.

“But why even an elementary school, not that any school would’ve been any better or different. But we’re talking about ages 5 to 10 years old. Those children are going to be scarred for life” Eddie’s dull voice sounded over the loft into Evan’s ears.

No texts, no calls, nothing.

Evan’s hearing is dull, everything is still continuing on the back of his mind but his brain is working over hours now. Making up all different kinds of scenarios of what could’ve happened in that school. “Wow Buck, you alright?” Another dull voice rang through his ears.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched at the sudden touch and his eyes connected with Hen’s as he turned his head towards her. A frightened look was spread over his face as he tried to control his breathing.

He looked down to his feet, which were suddenly wet and cold. He realizes he had dropped his glass of water down to the ground. His boots are now soaking wet, with the water dripping down his pipes. But that was the last thing he was worried about right now.

His brain filled with all different kinds of scenarios were running through his mind. “(Y/n)” he mumbled through his panicked breaths as he tried to look at Hen, who was still pressing her hand onto his shoulder while her other hand was curled around his upper arm.

“Oh no..” Hen said as he puzzled the pieces together. Finally realizing what was happening and what Evan meant.

Bobby’s voice sounded through the space as he stepped onto the loft “What’s happening?”

“There has been a school shooting at Great Oaks Elementary. The school where Buck’s wife works” Hen quickly explained to Bobby as she held her grip onto Evan’s upper arm.

Evan’s eyes that were full of worry wandered towards his captain's eyes who was coming closer towards him every second. “She isn’t answering any of my calls or texts. And I’m not waiting for the hospital to call me and tell me that she’s..” Evan sighs at the worst case scenario that was in his mind.

“Please Bobby. I need to go. I need to see for myself if she’s okay.” Evan’s broken voice sounded.

“Look Buck, I get it. But you don’t have to do this on your own. We’re coming with you, whether you like it or not. (Y/n) is our family too.” Bobby says as he softly squeezed Evan’s shoulder. A small smile spread across Evan’s face as those words left Bobby’s mouth.

“Let’s go and find (Y/n)” Bobby says as he patted his hand onto Evan’s shoulder as a sign to go.

-

“What do you mean she isn’t here?” Evan says after Athena finished her conclusion. “I just told you, every teacher that was here on school grounds during the shooting has been checked by paramedics, and are now sitting in a room. They’re getting the information they need if they want help. But I’ve seen every teacher in that room, and she wasn’t there Buck, only her teaching assistant Katy.” Athena continues her explanation.

“Well, have you asked Katy if she knows anything about the whereabouts of my wife?” Evan asks, maybe a little annoyed. “No, not yet. I’m waiting for the professionals to finish their job. And after that, I’ll see if Katy is willing to talk” She calmly answers Evan’s question.

“How long is that gonna take?” Evan sighs as he puts his hands on his hips. He’s losing his patience. This is taking too long. “I’m sure they’re almost done, this should only take a few more minutes” Athena reassured him.

“I don’t have time for this.. what if Katy doesn’t know where she is? This might lead to a dead end.” Evan tries to stop himself from panicking, as he rushes a hand through his short curly hair. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand there and wait on a teaching assistant who maybe doesn't have an answer to their questions.

Evan quickly turned around and slid his phone out of his pocket. He had to try it, at least one more time. He clicks on the green icon and clicks on her name, impatiently he presses the phone against his ear. Maybe she did have it with her.. right?

“Buck..” Evan could hear Bobby sigh as he was walking away from his team.

Evan listens to the sound of the phone beeping, trying to connect with the other phone. He was pacing through one of the hallways, silently listening to the beeps of the phone. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he could hear a ringtone going off from a distance. Was that someone else’s phone or was that the phone he was trying to reach?

The ringtone stopped playing when Evan was being sent to voicemail. He quickly presses the red button, and decides to try and call the phone again.

Once more the same ringtone sounds through the hallway.

Evan follows the sound, making his way through the hallways until after multiple times of calling her phone, he reaches the door of a classroom. The tone sounded loudly through the space of the room.

Evan stepped into the classroom and walked towards the desk where the phone was buzzing. “There you are..” Evan whispered to himself as he grabbed the phone and frowned at the idea of his wife leaving her phone behind. She never leaves her phone behind.

He shoved his own phone into his pocket as he made his way back towards his team who were now talking with a young woman, probably Katy.

“Can we please ask you a few questions?” Evan could hear Athena ask the TA, who nodded at her question. “When was the last time you saw (Y/n)?” Athena continued to ask her. “During the shooting, we were all hiding inside the classroom just like protocol said. And she told me to watch the kids.. she went to help the lady who was shot outside of our classroom. I heard multiple gunshots, when I was alone with the kids. But I haven’t seen her since she told me to watch them.” Katy explains.

Evan could feel his knees trembling, like they were suddenly turning into Jell-o.

“That’s everything I know” Katy says as she shrugs her shoulders. “It’s okay, thank you Katy. If something pops into your mind, give me a call” Athena says as she gives Katy her card with her contact details and Katy walks away.

“Alright, there’s two things we can do. One, we go to the hospital and check if she may be in the ER. Or two, we go check the..-” Athena gets cut off by Evan’s voice.

“Morgue” Evan finished Athena’s sentence and shook his head. “We’re going to the ER of the nearest hospital, she’s not dead. She can’t be.” Evan continued. “Buck.” Bobby’s voice spoke up when Evan wiped his hand against his forehead, as if it helped him to get rid of the thought of his wife being dead. “I refuse to believe that she’s dead, I want to go to the hospital” Evan states as he could hear his own voice trembling.

Evan felt Bobby’s hand landing onto his shoulder. “It’s your decision to make Buck, if you want to go to the hospital, we go to the hospital” Bobby said as he looked into Evan’s eyes again. Evan nodded. He made his decision.

The drive towards the nearest hospital was silent, but when the truck pulled to a stop Evan’s hand reached for the door and he jumped out as fast as he could.

He had waited long enough. He needed his answers now.

Before the rest of his team got out of the truck, Evan had already gone through the glass doors. Evan came to a stop at the nurse station, using his hands as a brake by pressing it against the desk.

“Hi, I’m looking for (Y/n) Buckley” he panted as he focussed on the nurse who was scrolling through the documents of people who had gotten in.

“Evan?” her familiar voice sounds through his ears. His eyes went wide as he heard that voice he had hoped to hear through the phone the first time he called her. He pushed himself off the desk he was leaning on and followed her voice.

“(Y/n)?” he softly said as he looked around him. When his eyes connected with hers, his heart skipped a beat. She was alive. Just like he said.

“Evan” she sighed as she finally saw her husband's face. Evan basically sprinted towards (Y/n) as he heard her broken voice say his name. Her knees were trembling, and were on the edge of giving in. “Hey! Hey! I’m here!” Evan panted as he curled his arms around his wife and she collapsed into his arms.

She was sobbing as soon as she felt his arms curled around her body and she tightened her grip around his body, like he was the only thing to keep her from drowning. He was the hand she had to hold onto. “I’m here” Evan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding this entire time.

He let his hand cup the back of her head and he pressed his lips against her hair.

He slowly pulled back, but his arms remained around her body. He wasn’t letting her go. The hand he had pressed against the back of her head, wandered to her cheek as he wiped away her tears.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you hurt?” he stumbled as he quickly checked her on any wounds. She shook her head as she placed both of her hands down onto his chest. “No, I’m okay” she gasped through her tears.

When Evan’s eyes fell onto her hands, which were now placed on his chest, he noticed her hands which were still covered in dried blood.

He placed his hands over hers as he softly grabbed her hand and started inspecting it. “It isn’t mine” she sighed as she tried to reconnect her eyes with Evan’s, who was focussed on making sure his wife wasn’t hurt.

“Then whose blood is that?” Evan’s voice asked, concerned when his eyes remained on her hands. “T-the woman who had been shot..” she said as she tried to catch her breath. Evan’s eyes furrowed “I helped her..” in the middle of her sentence, she stopped talking. “I kept her alive, even with a gun pointed at my head” she continued.

She could hear the gunshots going off in the back of her mind, the explanation she had just given her husband brought her right back to that place. So much has happened in those few minutes, she barely had time to process everything that happened in such a short time.

Tears were streaming down her face as she was reminded of the incident. “He wanted to shoot me in the head”

“Oh baby..” a loud sigh left his lips as he pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “You did so good” he mumbled against her forehead as he pressed another kiss onto it and pulled his wife back into an embrace.

“I was so scared Evan, I really thought this is it.. that everything I did, was for the last time” (Y/n) sobbed as she locked her arms around his body once again and her head pressed against his broad chest. “But you fought like hell, like I knew you would. You fought for that woman, for the students, yourself and me. You fought your way back to me.” Evan said as he pulled away a little, so her head wouldn’t be touching his chest anymore and he could place both his hands onto her cheeks.

“You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

______

A gasp fell off (Y/n)’s lips as a gunshot roared through the back of her mind. Her eyes were suddenly wide open and her entire body was drenched in sweat. She let her hands fall against her face as she sighed. It was just another dream, a nightmare to be more specific.

It had been weeks since the shooting on the Great Oak Elementary School, but what happened that day, was still haunting her until today.

Falling asleep was a problem at first, the first nights after the incident, she was all wrapped around Evan. Trying to get her to sleep like she was a baby that couldn’t find the right spot to sleep on.

Evan worked twenty four hour shifts, he couldn’t just go home in the middle of shift, in the middle of the night to help his wife to fall asleep at night. So sometimes, (Y/n) wouldn’t sleep at all at night, she would just wait until he came home and the second Evan was home she would doze off.

But now, it’s the constant nightmares she had. Every dream she had wasn’t the same, it’s not like she had the same nightmare over and over again on loop. No, she was having different kinds of scenario’s everytime she closed her eyes.

She let her hands fall down onto the mattress as she glanced at Evan who was peacefully asleep on his side of the bed. (Y/n) threw off the blanket and swung her feet over the side of the bed and grasped the first hoodie she saw lying down on the floor. The hoodie was a little oversized and fell over her bum.

(Y/n) stepped down the stairs of the loft and flicked on the kettle to make some tea. Maybe that would help her calm down. With her back towards the living room, she pressed her elbows down onto the flat surface of the kitchen counter.

She was tired, but couldn’t sleep. Not if she was having these nightmares, everytime she closed her eyes. (Y/n) let her head rest between her hands as she closes her eyes for a second, just to try and let the stress exit her body while the water was boiling.

Evan groaned as he turned around in bed and let his arm find the body of his wife. When his arm connected with the jumpy mattress, he pushed his head off the pillow as a confused frown was spread across his face. He wasn't expecting his arm to find the mattress, he was waiting for his arm to connect with (Y/n)’s body.

He lets his arm swipe along the mattress again to make sure she wasn’t somewhere else on the mattress. Evan turns his body and reaches out to turn on the night lamp on his nightstand. He squeezed his eyes as he tried to adjust his eyes to the bright light on his nightstand and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Evan swung his legs over the side of the bed as he stood up to make his way downstairs, determined to find his wife. When he silently stepped down the stairs, he smiled at the way she was standing. A Los Angeles Fire Department hoodie to keep her comfortable, her eyes closed as she was leaning on her hands. While the kettle was releasing steam as it was finished boiling.

A groan left her lips as she felt a hand curled around her hip and his chin was leaning on her shoulder. Her hand reached behind her as she tried to find Evan’s arm. “Can’t sleep?” his sleepy voice asked, with his eyes still closed as he was still trying to wake up.

“Yeah” she whispered as she nodded at his question, and she placed her other hand down on his cheek as he was still leaning with his chin onto her shoulder.

“Still having those nightmares huh?” He asked her as he pressed a kiss on the palm of her hand that was resting on his face.

“Yeah, what’s new..” she sighed, she had the feeling those nightmares weren’t going away anytime soon anyways. She grabbed a cup from the upper cabinet, placed it onto the counter and started to pour water from the kettle into it.

When the cup was full enough, she placed the kettle back. “Evan?” Her soft voice sounded raspy.

“Hmm?” Evan hummed as he slightly opened his eyes to check on his wife. His arm was still wrapped around her, curved around her hip. She swallowed loudly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..” she whispered as she placed both of her hands flat against the counter as she stared right in front of her.

Evan’s hand started to come loose from her hip, as he let his lower back fall against the kitchen island, which was placed on the other side of the kitchen counter (Y/n) was making her tea on.

He folded his arms over each other as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets. “You mean the nightmares, right?” Evan needed a confirmation that he knew she was talking about.

She felt Evan leaving her side. But she couldn’t look at him without breaking down. So she remained standing with her back towards Evan. “No.. I meant, being a teacher.” She said as she started to make circles with her finger onto the kitchen counter.

“What? What do you mean? You love being a teacher” Evan said as he tried to make eye contact again. But she wouldn’t turn around.

She shook her head as she sighed, trying to keep her tears from falling down. “That was before this all happened. You know how exhausting it is to be wary of every single thing around you?” she sniffled as she turned her face towards the ceiling, trying everything in her power to not show her tears, or show her fear.

With her sleeves falling over her hands, she wiped the small tears away that had started rolling down her cheeks. “Every time before I even enter the school my throat goes dry, I start sweating and I can’t stop myself from shaking” she tried to say through her tears and sobs.

She turned her body, and let herself slide against the kitchen doors, dropping to the ground as she cried even harder. “I’m sick and tired of flinching at every sudden sound I hear. I can’t sleep, because any time when I close my eyes, even if it’s just for one silly second, I’m there again. With a gun against my head.” she confessed.

(Y/n) let the back of her head lean against the kitchen cabinet as she felt Evan coming closer, while she looked at the ceiling again. Trying to get rid of the tears that showed her biggest fears and weaknesses. “I can’t do this anymore Evan” she sobbed as she pressed her palms against her face. All she wanted to do was hide.

It feels like she’s drowning, drowning into her own fear and tears. The fear is over taking her like waves of the ocean, if no one would reach out that hand to help her.. she might drown.

“No.. you’re scared. And I get your reaction, but we don’t always make the best decisions when we’re operating out of fear” Evan spoke up as he curled his arm around her knee.

A sigh leaves Evan’s mouth as he tries to think of the right thing to say. “I know how hard it is to get over something so traumatizing, that you don’t know what you’re doing it for no more” he said as he tightened his arm around her knee. “But what happened could have happened anywhere. At the grocery store, in our own home, hell even at the fire station” Evan continued as he tried to get her attention, but she was too emotional to make eye contact.

She could hear every word he said, every breath he took, every moment of silence he needed, to think of what he was going to say next.

“So I need you to stop saying that you can’t do this. Because I know you can. You’re one of the strongest women I know. And I’m so proud to call you my wife. But right now, I need you to grab my hand and trust me when I say that we’ll figure this out.” tears were starting to well in Evan’s eyes as he quickly wiped his finger underneath his eyes to get rid of the tears he felt, as they were about to roll over his cheeks.

Evan loosened his grip around her knee as he reached out his hand, with his palm faced towards the ceiling. “We do this together, just like we did all the times I got hurt and didn’t know what to do” Evan said as he lowered his head, trying to get her eyes connected with him again.

Silence took over the space they were in.

Evan’s hand was still dangling between her knees as he waited for her attention and answer. “Together?” he asked one more time.

A soft smile made its way onto her face, as she nodded. “Together.” she said determined and placed her hand onto his as Evan sent her a small smile her way.

She had helped him countless times, now it was his turn to help her.

[gksweetdreams]

Caught in a Web

Sinister Mark x Reader

Here’s part 2 I felt really inspired and kind of fell in love when writing and creating it so I hope you enjoy it and I hope you like the way this story is moving along :)

The world was chaos. Different variants of Mark Grayson were tearing each other apart, destroying the cities and killing innocents. Some of the Marks were heroes, some villains—others barely more than mindless beasts. But Sinister Mark? He stood still; eyes still locked onto her.

Y/N had fought many threats before like gangs and alien invaders—but something about him unsettled her. He wasn’t like the other Marks, blinded by rage or loyalty to the Viltrumite empire. No, there was something else behind those eyes.

A memory.

And love...

She fired a web to the side of a crumbling skyscraper and swung away, her senses screaming to put distance between them. She didn’t trust that look he was giving her—the kind that made her spidey senses go off and give her a headache.

The kind of look where it felt like she belonged to someone she had never even met.

But Sinister Mark wasn’t about to let her go so easily.

In an instant, he was right beside her in the air, flying. His cape blowing behind him, and despite the destruction around them, he looked almost… calm… too calm

“Running already?” His voice was smooth, teasing. “You’ve fought aliens before, haven’t you? You don’t strike me as the type to back down.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, and he continued

“My Y/N always faced issues head on… maybe that’s why she died” 

Y/N twisted mid-air, firing another web toward him. But this time, she reinforced it with electricity, her version of a venom blast.

Sinister Mark caught it—again—but this time, the energy crackled up his arm, his jaw clenching from the pain. Yet instead of anger, a smirk played on his lips.

“There she is.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. Why did it sound like he knew her? She hated it…

“Alright, buddy, listen,” she said, flipping onto a nearby rooftop annoyed. “I don’t know what kind of tragic backstory you’ve got, but I am not her.”

Sinister Mark landed with a soft thud; arms crossed over his chest. “I know.”

That caught her off guard. Not expecting him to just agree.

“I know you’re not my Y/N,” he continued, stepping closer. “She’s gone. I lost her. And before you ask—no, I wasn’t the one who killed her.” His fists clenched slightly. “But I should have stopped it.”

Y/N’s spider-sense tingled—not from danger, but from something else. He wasn’t lying. His pain was real.

For a brief second, her mind flickered to her own Mark—her version of Invincible, the one she fought beside. Would she be standing here, looking at him in another life, if things had gone differently?

She shook the thought away.

“Look, I get it,” she said, keeping her distance. “Loss changes people. But don’t mistake me for a second chance.”

Sinister Mark exhaled through his nose, almost like a laugh. “Who said I was?”

Another scream could be heard leaving no time for Y/N to respond. One of the more savage Marks—scarred and monstrous—ripped through the battlefield below, his bloodstained eyes locked onto hers from the distance.

Sinister Mark’s expression darkened.

“Get behind me,” he ordered.

Y/N scoffed. “Yeah, no. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can.” His gaze flicked to her web-shooters, the subtle twitch of her fingers, the way her body tensed. She was already calculating a hundred ways to take down the incoming threat. And he found himself... fascinated. It was strange to him how this Y/N and his Y/N were so similar but yet so different.

Then the monstrous Mark variant lunged.

Y/N moved first, flipping into the air, dodging a powerful punch that shattered the rooftop. She fired a web at his face, pulling herself toward him to deliver a venom-charged punch—only for him to catch her mid-air.

Her breath hitched as she felt his grip tighten.

Before she could react, a blur tore through the sky.

Sinister Mark hit him like a meteor.

The monstrous variant barely had time to register what happened before Sinister Mark grabbed his head and slammed him through the rooftop, sending them both crashing into the streets below.

Dust and debris filled the air.

Y/N landed gracefully on the edge of the destruction swiping her hand left to right to move the smoke they both caused, heart pounding.

Sinister Mark stood over the now-dead variant; his fist still embedded in the pavement. Blood dripped from his knuckles—none of it his own.

He flew back to her, the expression unreadable.

Y/N crossed her arms. “I had that.” Trying not to act like that didn’t just give her the scare of a life time.

Sinister Mark wiped the blood from his knuckles. “I know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Then why step in?”

His lips quirked up into a smirk. “Because I wanted to.”

A beat of silence passed between them, heavy with something neither wanted to name.

Then he took a step toward her.

Y/N tensed but didn’t move.

“I won’t pretend you’re her,” he said, voice quieter now. “But you are... something. And I don’t ignore things that make me feel alive.”

She swallowed.

“Careful,” she murmured. “You might start sounding like a hero.”

Sinister Mark chuckled. “Unlikely.”

Above them, the sky continued to crackle with energy. The war between variants wasn’t over yet.

But for the first time since arriving in this reality, Sinister Mark wasn’t just looking for a fight.

He had found something far more dangerous. Something that made his heartbeat again…

Something he wasn’t sure he could walk away from…

And Y/N didn’t know what to think.

Thank you for all the love and support!! It truly amazed me, and I am really happy everyone liked part 1. Sorry once again for the grammar and I hope everyone enjoys this story as much as I like writing it :)

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[thekinslayed]

Come and Play

pairing | modern!aemond targaryen x gf!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), dry humping (?), foot humping rly lol, gamer bf!aem, slight dom/sub dynamic, bratty reader

wordcount | 1.4k

note | WE'RE SOO BACK! big thank you to my love @silcoangel for this idea!! she said gray sweatpants gamer aemond and i got to work 🫡 not my best bc i'm a little very rusty but i'm soo happy to be putting this out for u guys. consider this my v day gift <3

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“They’re right behind the corner, Aeg— Yeah, I see ‘em.”

Your eyes are starting to burn the longer you stare at the bright purple lights that tint the room. Though the dizzy haze of cigarette smoke in the air might have something to do with it too. You’re cold, exposed legs prickling from the near frigid air Aemond always prefers, but something within you burned red hot. Pulsing and creeping its way, both to your head and somewhere down south. 

You huff. Bored and forsaken by your boyfriend for whatever combat game he’s been into. Brows furrowing and orbs starting to burn holes into the back of his gaming chair. His throne, if you will, and his controller his mighty sword. He’s starting to yell into his bulky gamer’s headset, some colorful words thrown to his brother on the other end. Aemond’s always been intense, especially when it comes to winning. 

His navy sheets, usually so pristine, turn mussed and crumpled up the longer you toss around in his bed. They smell like him, and so did his shirt you put on. He smells like pine, of the greenest earth in the deep forest, though tinged by tobacco and musk. It was utterly heavenly. So addicting, and so Aemond. You can’t stop pressing your nose into the fabric every so often to find him.

You miss him right now.

Your patience is dwindling, and on a better day, maybe you would have waited it out for longer. But you want him now. You swing your legs to stand, padding barefoot over to stand behind his chair. Cold fingertips trail along the line of his shoulder, reminding him of what he’s forgotten. He pays you no mind, the furious clicking of his controller unceasing and his hypnotized trance unyielding. Yet you persist, hands caressing his bare chest, nudging your nose into the crook of his neck.

“Aem,” you sigh, breathing in the scent of his skin. Always smells so good. “You said only an hour.”

“Hold on— Aegon, are you fucking blind or stupid? He was right behind you!” He’s loud against your ear, and you can hear his brother equally booming through his headphones. You sigh again, annoyance ticking deep in your chest with being ignored. Yet you were anything if not persistent. You like having your treat as soon as the inkling of a craving starts to tickle your tongue. If the incessant grumbling and quick tapping are anything to go by, their game isn’t going well. Maybe Aemond will get tired by the end, and you’ll have him all to yourself again. You know you will.

You warm your hands down the heated flesh of his abdomen, growing bolder with each caress. Your nails trace the line down his abs, and when your fingertips finally dip into the waistband of his sweats, Aemond starts to break out of his video game-addled trance. 

“Stop,” he hisses, grabbing your hand in a tight grip. His larger palm pulls you away, before returning to his controller like a magnet. It should offend, really, but it only sharpens your aim.  

You peek at the monitor, some first-person shooter game that makes you dizzy with the twists and turns, but then you spot the timer in the corner. Only a minute left, perfect. You decide to play nice, simply settling your hands over the ridged plane of his stomach, hugging the smooth leather of his chair as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Slowly, your fingertips start to trace the bumps of his muscled abdomen, drawing some small circles. You follow the path of his happy trail, feeling the fine hairs under your touch as you descend lower, and lower. And then he sighs, exhaling deep. He’s stopped talking now, but the cinch in his brow tells you he isn’t very pleased— with the game, or with you; it hardly matters. 

Time runs out, and the screen flashes red as they lose the game. “Fuck,” Aemond grumbles, throwing the controller onto his desk and running a hand down his face in exasperation. You preen at his weariness.

“Aw, too bad, babe,” you pout, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly before stepping into his eyesight with a giddy look. “Come to bed?”

He considers you for a moment, eyes draping down your form. Nipples poking through his old college shirt, bare legs prickled in the chilly temperature, thighs subtly starting to rub against each other. Aemond meets your gaze, and for a moment, you can see your victory in his icy blues. Then they shift.

“Yeah, I can go for one more,” he says to Aegon, smirking as he leans back into his chair. You catch his abdomen clench, the shape of his cock outlined by the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants, taunting. Like dangling a treat in a dog’s face. The quick clicking on his controller resumes, and your boyfriend’s focus is sucked back into his game once more. 

“Are you fucking serious?” you glower.

“Let me win this last one, yeah?” he grins. His palm, warm against your skin, softly pushes your thigh. “Can’t see, love, go back to bed.” 

You grow hot, brows furrowing in disbelief. Aegon must be saying something about you, with the way Aemond snickers and his eyes flicker back to you with a lopsided smirk. 

All a game to him. And just like Aemond, you never like to lose. 

You kneel before him, fitting perfectly in the space beneath his desk. His eyes flicker to you in confusion, before speaking into his headset again. Your hands run up the length of his thighs, tracing his dick with your fingertip. It twitches under your touch, and you smirk. You’re quick to grab the waistband of Aemond’s sweats, pulling out his half-hard length before he can protest. You can feel him sparing glances.

You gather spit, dribbling it onto his cockhead, warm and hefty in your hold. It lubricates your hand as you begin to stroke him up and down. It doesn’t take long for him to harden, growing in size once you begin to take his tip into your mouth, and Aemond grunts. You peek at him through your lashes, watching his nostrils flare as he tries to keep a grasp on his composure. 

Your work is quick, head bobbing along the length of him and hand stroking what your mouth can’t take. The other cups his stones, massaging and softly squeezing. You start to hear his breath. “Shit,” you hear him grumble under his breath. Trim hips start to subtly cant towards your face, his defense slowly crumbling with your tongue swirling on his mushroomed tip. The clicking slows, and you think you can hear Aegon yelling at him in his ear.

Soon enough, a loud thud above your head startles you, then another. His expensive gear is tossed with little care before he grips your hair. Aemond begins to thrust into you in earnest, fucking your mouth like his own little toy. “Fucking slut,” he hissed. “Is this what you wanted? Couldn’t even wait ‘til I finish the fucking game.”

His movements are harsher, assaulting the back of your throat. Aemond grips your hair tight, moving your head back and forth to his liking. The throbbing in your core grows unbearable, your panties warm and damp in need. He shifts in his seat, foot perfectly moving just right by the pulsing in between your thighs. You press your clothed cunt into his shoe, steadying yourself by gripping onto his calf for support. 

You hump his foot, moving your hips in tandem with his thrusts. A dark chuckle leaves Aemond’s lips at the sight of you, looking down with a sneer. “I thought I fucked you enough, yet you still act like some pathetic, desperate whore,” he says, pressing his foot harder into your pussy. You whimper, gripping his leg tight as you grind your clit onto his foot. He gives you no reprieve, thrusts unrelenting until his hips start to falter. Soon enough, your boyfriend is pulling you off his cock and gripping your chin tight. He furiously strokes his cock, and his foot twists side to side to drive you into further stimulation. It manages to snag your clit just right, and you’re cumming, your mouth falling open as you soak your panties. Aemond follows soon after, gripping your cheeks to keep your mouth wide, and he’s spurting thick, hot seed onto your tongue with a curse falling from his lips. He watches you swallow all that he gives you, looking down from the tip of his nose. Spit smeared to your cheeks, eyes tear-stained and red. You’re perfect. 

“Did I win?” you whisper.

"No, I did," he counters.

"Made you cave in, didn't I?"

Your boyfriend smirks, before pulling you up by the elbow to sit on his lap. He sits you with your back to his chest, thick fingers sneaking past the hem of your panties and finding the mess between your thighs. 

“Why don’t we go best out of two?” 

[mggslover]

Killing machine

In which reader shocks herself with her abilities in the field, leading her to doubt the person she's become.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst, fluff Tropes: wound cleaning Word count: 1,8k A/n: the first one shot on this blog and also the first I've written in years!!

The sound of her heavy breathing and the occasional clicking of her broken flashlight fill the stuffy, cramped space of the abandoned container Y/n finds herself in. The BAU is after a team of unsubs who’ve been killing elderly widows who come from old money, using their grief as a way to make it into their lives and homes. They murder them in cold blood, stealing their most prized possessions and storing them in abandoned locations. For the past two days, Y/n has been visiting warehouses all over the state, trying to identify who the found property belongs to and finding new leads on where the unsubs could be. 

Today should’ve been another day of clearing out warehouses and containers. Y/n and the team split up after arriving on the property. Callahan, JJ, and Rossi taking one warehouse, Hotch, Morgan, and Reid taking the other, while Y/n got the task to search some smaller containers around the area. She squints her eyes in an attempt to fight the night blindness as her flashlight flickers. “Come on, just work with me,” she mumbles as she slaps her palm against the back of the flashlight, trying to get it to properly work. Y/n gives a small sigh of satisfaction when a bright light erupts out of the flashlight. As she tilts her head back up, she’s greeted by the chest of a male just inches away from her. Her flashlight shatters to the ground, her hard effort gone as the lens breaks into tiny pieces. The male, who she identifies as one of the unsubs, reaches in his jean pocket where the handle of a Glock is sticking out. Before the unsub has the chance to make a single movement, a bullet derived from Y/n’s gun makes a quick and clean hole in his forehead. She’s met with the familiar ringing in her ear and natural response of flinching as his blood splatters onto her. 

She hears a creak and turns around, expecting a team member to make sure she’s alright. 

“Hey, I-“

She stops dead in her tracks as she catches a small dim of light behind a wooden crate, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she makes out two eyes. The click of a gun makes her snap her head around, and she soon figures out it wasn’t just one of the unsubs hiding in here… it’s all of them. Gun in her clammy hand, she guides herself by the small sounds of movement that suddenly sound as loud as the beating of drums. Adrenaline courses through her veins, her gaze only focused on what’s in front of her as she starts firing. One by one the unsubs hidden behind boxes and shelves fall to the ground. She lets out a yelp and stumbles when a bullet grazes her cheek, making her land on her back. Y/n quickly holds herself up on her arms as she hits the final blow at her shooter. The sound of the gunshots had barely registered in her mind before the deafening silence followed. Her grip remains strong on her gun as her heart pounds into her chest. 

“Y/n!” Spencer’s shriek of panic is heard across the container. He stumbles his way over the boxes and bodies on the ground, only focused on her. “I thought you were dead,” he says as he kneels next to her, brows furrowed and mouth softly agape as he flashes his flashlight in her face, examining her. She hisses as his cold fingers trace the wound on her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes. 

The rest of the team follows Spencer into the container. Derek crouches to observe the lifeless body of the assumed leader of the group of unsubs. “Damn girl, that’s a good shot,” he compliments. 

Rossi looks around at the scattered bodies. “It’s not just him, all of these are aimed perfectly,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “I need to take some extra classes from you. I can’t even shoot like this in GTA.” His words earn some chuckles, but it makes her stomach churn. She didn’t even think twice about taking them down—how was that something she should feel proud of? The praise made her feel like a weapon, like she was being recognized for something she didn’t want to be good at. 

Hotch’s eyes softened when he noticed her clear discomfort and the state of shock she was still in as she couldn’t find the words to speak. “Reid, get Y/n to the medics outside and then take her home. We’ll get the paperwork done tomorrow.”

-

As Spencer turns the key into his apartment door, he makes sure to keep his hand steady on Y/n’s lower back, gently guiding her inside. “Let’s go clean this wound up. The medic told me you have to sanitize it twice a day, before going to bed and after waking up.” Spencer continues rambling on about the medical books he’s read and how he’s practiced cleaning dirty cuts on himself, as he makes her sit down on the edge of the bathtub. She doesn’t process any of his words, though. Her mind keeps spinning back to the container, how she didn’t experience a moment of doubt as she saw the unsubs armed and how meticulously she ended them. How easy it was to end the lives of five human beings in the span of a single minute. 

She tilts her head with a hum as Spencer repeats her name. “Can I take your vest off?” She nods as she lifts her arms, giving Spencer access. He helps her lift out of it,  tossing the bulletproof vest behind him. She cringes as she notices the dried blood and gunpowder coating it. “Hey… I’m right here, you’re okay,” Spencer softly coos, turning Y/n’s attention back on him. 

He traces the back of his finger against her unhurt cheek. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” When she doesn’t respond, he gently cups her chin, tilting it up to bring her attention to him. He crouches so that he can look her in the eyes. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” She bites down on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she has. She knows she can trust Spencer, but she’s feeling embarrassed. Embarrassed by the fact that she’s struggling so much about something that should be routine by now after the number of years she’s worked at the BAU, but also embarrassed by the fact that it’s supposed to be routine, since it shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have the skill to perform headshots like that and she definitely shouldn’t be praised about it by her colleagues. She knows they mean well, but she cannot get rid of the sick taste in her mouth. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I know it was terrifying being alone in there. I know you don’t like the dark or tight spaces, but it’s over now. You did so well.” 

“Did I?” Her voice comes out harsher than intended, making Spencer tilt his head in confusion. 

“I killed five people, Spencer, five,” she says as her voice shakes. Spencer rubs her shoulders up and down. “You were left with no choice, there was no other option.” 

“That doesn’t make what I did any better.” She whispers, her voice barely audible as the tears start to spill. She shakes her head as she scoffs a laugh in disbelief. “God… you heard what Rossi said. I’m a killing machine, Spencer! I didn’t even know I was capable of doing that.” She says. “Garcia fights the justice system to get the man who almost killed her off of death row, and what do I do? I don’t give them a single chance and kill them without even thinking about it. I swear Spence, it happened as a reflex. It shouldn’t happen as a reflex!” Y/n’s anxiety builds up as she keeps thinking of reasons as to why she’s a bad person. The empathy is visible in Spencer’s eyes as his hand trembles slightly as he reaches for the dirty bandage. It wasn’t the wound he was worried about— it was what he couldn’t see. How the strongest person he knew was shaking in front of him, wanting nothing more than to protect her from everything the job took from her. 

“You cannot compare those situations. Garcia saw the potential of him bettering his life. You had no other choice, you needed to protect yourself.” 

She swallows. “I used to be a lot like her, you know.” The memories of Y/n’s early days in her career flood her mind. Back when she could feel proud of her ability to protect others. Back when she could still relate to believing the good in people. She used to think every life had some value worth saving. She doesn’t remember the moment that changed. 

Spencer softly smiles down at her. “You still are, love. You’re a soft-spoken kind soul, you just put some protective layers over that. I know it’s hard to reconcile who you are now with who you were when you started this job,” Spencer says as he caresses her freshly bandaged cheek. “Your strength might have hardened you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your compassion. You’re still the same person. You just do it differently now.” His words make her melt as she leans into his touch, surrendering herself to the security he offered. Spencer smiles to himself as he guides her up off of the bathtub, pulling her into his embrace and resting his chin on her head. 

“You’re such a caring person, sweetheart. The fact that you’re worrying about this tells me enough of how good of a person you are.” Her eyes water as he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know anyone as gentle and loving as you,” he whispers between kisses as he continues showering her in words of affection and reassurance.

 “You’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever met and you’re amazing at the job that you do. The risk you took has saved so many people, love, just think about it.” Warm, full tears soak his sweatshirt as she buries her face in his chest. Finding gratitude in the fact that her boyfriend always knows the right words to comfort her. 

He takes her face in his hands. “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to take a while to get over this, but we’ll go through it together,” he says. Those sweet, brown bambi eyes looking deeply into hers make her believe every word he says. 

“Will you help me? When I need to fill in the evaluation?” She softly asks, already dreading going through the case again, but Spencer's soft gaze calms her. 

“I will, love. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

[0ratattack0]

I haven’t made a comic in a long time please forgive me for the terrible quality

Would this be an official introduction??? Anyway he’s been on my mind brain rotting for real

[lovetommyactually]

Bucktommy Ι WC: 3k Ι cw: Blood, Gunshot, Major injury

[read below or on ao3]

Buck’s world came back in flashes.

Pain—sharp and burning, radiating through his arm. Muffled voices. The distinct smell of metal and blood. A whisper—no, a voice he knew. A voice he loved.

“Come on, Buck. Come on, wake up.”

Dammit Tommy, it’s Evan, he thought.

The words were low and urgent, threading through the pain, pulling him toward consciousness.

“Hey, Hey, just open your eyes for me. You’re fine. You’re good—just wake up, okay?”

A hand pressed against his arm, steady and firm, keeping him anchored. The pain sharpened, burning through the fog in his mind.

Buck groaned, blinking against the blinding overhead lights. His throat felt raw, his limbs heavy. He heard a sharp exhale of relief.

“—What happened?” Buck barely managed to ask, his throat dry, words slurring.

Tommy’s face hovered above him, eyes sharper than usual, scanning him like he was an emergency call. His hands were pressing something—his own flannel, bundled tightly—against Buck’s arm. Blood soaked through.

“Just stay here,” Tommy whispered. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—controlled tension. “You’ll be okay, just don’t move now. I called 911. Help is on the way.”

Buck tried to shift, but Tommy’s grip on his injured arm tightened, keeping him still.

“Don’t move,” Tommy murmured, his voice quieter now but firm. “You got shot, but it’s not bleeding too bad. No exit wound, so the bullet’s still in there.” His gaze flicked over Buck’s arm, assessing quickly. “I don’t think it hit anything major, but I can’t be sure. Probably just the muscle.” He adjusted the pressure, tightening the fabric over the wound. “You’re stable, but you need to stay still, okay?”

Buck swallowed hard, trying to process the words through the throbbing in his skull. Shot. Bullet still inside. Probably just the muscle. That meant it wasn’t that bad, right?

His eyes flickered past Tommy, and that’s when he saw the gun in the distance—the shooter, pacing erratically near the overturned tables and shattered glass.

Buck’s breath caught, but then his gaze dragged back to Tommy, to the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders were squared, body coiled tight like he was ready to move at any second.

His throat felt raw, but he forced the words out. “Are you okay?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. His focus remained locked on the shooter, assessing, calculating.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, voice even. Too even. His grip on Buck’s arm didn’t loosen, though—steady, grounding, a silent reassurance.

The man was yelling. “Where is she? Where the fuck is she?!” His voice cracked with unhinged desperation.

Tommy inhaled slowly and got up.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. They were supposed to meet up, talk—just talk. Buck had been anxious, uncertain, but then Tommy walked in—steady, put together, looking good, he always did. And when Tommy smiled— small, warm, genuine—hope flickered to life in Buck’s chest. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought. But now, none of that mattered.

Buck blinked. “Tommy—” His fingers barely caught at Tommy’s wrist, but Tommy had already straightened up, stepping forward with careful, measured steps.

“What’s her name?” Tommy asked, voice low but steady.

The shooter’s head snapped toward him. “You—You know her? You her new boyfriend?”

Tommy didn’t flinch. “No, I don’t know her,” he said simply. “But I know you don’t want to do this.”

The man’s breathing was ragged, his grip on the gun unsteady. “She won’t even talk to me! After everything I— I just want to see her. I just want her to listen.”

Tommy nodded, keeping his hands visible, his body loose. “I hear you, man. Feels like she shut you out, right?”

The shooter’s lip curled. “She’s been ignoring me for months! Like I don’t even exist! And then I come here, and—and she’s not even—” His voice cracked, his eyes darting around wildly.

Tommy took a slow step forward. “That’s gotta be frustrating. You came here to talk, and now all this happened instead.”

The man’s jaw twitched. “Yeah. Yeah, this—this ain’t what I wanted. But I just—” He exhaled sharply, voice shaking. “I just want to know why. Why she left. Why she won’t answer me.”

Tommy’s hands were still up, his body still calm, every movement carefully controlled.

“I get it,” Tommy said. “I really do. It’s hard when someone walks away and you don’t get answers.” His tone softened, but not too much. He had to keep the shooter engaged, not coddle him. “But, listen—hurting people in here? That’s not gonna get you those answers, man.”

The shooter’s jaw clenched, his hand twitching around the grip. “It’s not fair,” he muttered. “It’s not fair.”

Tommy didn’t break eye contact. He took another slow step forward, careful, controlled. “I hear you. You didn’t come here to hurt anyone, right?”

The shooter hesitated, breath still ragged. “No, I— I just—” His fingers flexed around the trigger, shoulders tensing. “She won’t even listen to me. After everything I did for her—”

“I believe you,” Tommy said smoothly, voice steady. “I believe you just wanted her to hear you. And you deserve that. But this?” He nodded slightly toward the shattered glass, the overturned tables. “This isn’t gonna bring her back, man. You know that.”

For a moment, the shooter wavered. His grip on the gun loosened—just barely.

Buck barely heard the rest. His arm throbbed, blood seeping through the makeshift bandage Tommy had left behind. The coppery taste in his mouth made his stomach churn, but then—

A whimper.

Buck turned his head slightly, vision still hazy. A kid—barely five, maybe six—curled up behind an overturned chair, shaking, tears streaking his cheeks. His small hands clutched his knees, and he was whispering, repeating the same words over and over.

“Mommy, I want Mommy.”

Buck swallowed, forcing himself to focus.

“You’ll see her soon,” The kid’s eyes darted to him—red rimmed, terrified. “I know it’s scary, buddy, but we’re gonna be okay. See that guy?” Buck nodded toward Tommy, who was still keeping the shooter talking. “He’s strong. He’s gonna get us out.”

The kid’s lip wobbled. His small body trembled. “You’re… you’re dying.”

Buck forced a small, pained smile. “Nah. Just got a scratch.”

Tommy’s voice was still steady, but something about the way he was holding himself didn’t sit right.

His movements weren’t as sharp as before. His breathing—was it slower?

Buck frowned, barely able to focus through the haze in his head. His own arm pulsed with pain, but somewhere beneath the chaos, something felt wrong.

The kid didn’t believe him. His little hands clenched into fists. “I don’t wanna die. I want Mommy!” He hiccupped, panic rising, his breaths coming too fast now, too sharp. His small frame shook violently.

No.

Buck saw it an instant before it happened.

The kid snapped, bolting forward, little feet slapping against the floor, toward the chaos.

Straight toward the danger.

Buck’s stomach sank.

“Wait—!”

The shooter snapped toward the movement, instincts kicking in. His expression twisted, something between panic and rage flashing in his eyes.

“HEY!” His grip tightened on the gun—

Buck barely had time to react, his injured arm slowing him down as he lunged forward to grab the kid. The shooter lifted the gun. Buck saw his finger twitch on the trigger.

A flicker of movement.

A blur of motion.

Gunfire.

A choked sound.

Buck flinched, expecting pain—expecting the worst

But it wasn’t him.

Buck barely registered the body colliding with the shooter, the gun clattering to the floor, Tommy’s grunt of pain as he twisted, bringing the man down hard against the shattered glass.

Then—sirens.

The piercing wail cut through the air, growing louder, flashing red and blue outside. Someone shouted, but Buck didn’t hear the words.

Tommy wasn’t moving.

Buck struggled to sit up, adrenaline forcing him through the pain. “Tommy?” His own voice sounded distant, the rush in his ears deafening.

Tommy was on his side, breathing shallowly, fingers still twisted in the shooter’s jacket, keeping him pinned even as his strength faded.

His other hand—Buck’s stomach dropped.

Blood.

Pooling beneath his fingers. Dark. Spreading.

Buck sucked in a sharp breath, his vision narrowing. No. No, no, no—

He scrambled closer, ignoring the fire in his own arm, pressing his good hand against Tommy’s.

It wasn’t just pooling—it was creeping outward, slow at first, then faster, seeping into the cracks of the floor, staining everything it touched. The warmth of it spread beneath Buck’s palm, slick and wrong. He pressed harder, but it kept coming. Too much. Too fast. The coppery scent thickened in the air, curling in his throat, making it harder to breathe.

“Tommy,” Buck rasped. “Hey, Hey.”

Tommy’s fingers twitched weakly against the shooter’s jacket, his breath uneven. His eyes barely opened, unfocused.

Then, voice barely above a whisper— “The guy?”

Buck swallowed hard, blinking through the sting in his eyes. “Yeah, out. He’s out. I think he hit his head.”

“…Good.” Then his fingers slipped from the fabric of the shooter’s jacket. His body sagged, the last of his strength givingout.

“Shit—Tommy.”

Buck shifted quickly, his free hand moving from the wound to ease Tommy onto his back, trying to keep him steady as his body went slack.

Tommy grimaced, a sharp, pained inhale slipping through his teeth.

“I got you,” Buck murmured, his hand pressing down firmly on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. “Just stay with me, okay?”

Tommy gave a slow, unsteady nod.

Then his eyes fluttered open, and for the first time, Buck saw it—the pain breaking through the steel.

“…Fuck,” Tommy muttered, voice weak, a bitter, almost amused breath leaving him. “Didn’t—didn’t even feel that one.”

Buck barely breathed. His hand pressed harder against Tommy’s side, warm blood slick against his fingers. Too much blood.

Tommy exhaled sharply, shifting just slightly—and then he winced. His brow furrowed, like he was noticing something for the first time.

He blinked down at himself. "...Huh." His voice was almost puzzled, like the thought barely registered.

Buck followed his gaze and froze.

A second patch of blood—darker, smeared along Tommy’s jeans. His thigh.

Not from the gunshot just now. From before.

Buck’s stomach dropped. “Are you—” His voice broke, panic surging through him. “You were already shot?”

Tommy let out a breathy chuckle, dazed. “Guess so.” His fingers weakly gripped Buck’s wrist, half-hearted reassurance. “Didn’t notice.”

Didn’t notice.

Buck wanted to cry. "Okay, okay, you're okay—just breathe."

Tommy’s lips twitched—or maybe they were just trembling now. “Didn’t I t-tell you not t’ move?”

Buck let out a strangled laugh, something close to a sob. “Jesus Christ, Tommy.”

A noise outside. Help was here. But so was the blood pooling beneath Tommy.

Buck leaned closer, grip tightening, his pulse hammering in his ears. “You stay awake, okay? Help is here. Just—just please stay with me.”

Tommy’s fingers curled weakly into Buck’s sleeve, his grip barely there, but there.

“Bu—Evan…” His voice was thin, broken by a sharp inhale. His body shuddered.

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

Tommy’s hold tightened for just a second.

“Evan, I—” His voice cracked, a faint wheeze threading through his words. “I wanted… I wanted to apologize—”

A cough tore through him, wet and weak. His breath hitched, and Buck felt the tremor beneath his hands.

“Tommy, stop,” Buck pleaded, panic thick in his throat. “You’re gonna be fine, just save it, okay? You can tell me later.”

But Tommy shook his head—just barely.

“Had to say it,” he murmured, voice slipping. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. “Was h’rd the…’thout you…”

Buck swallowed hard, eyes burning. “I know,” he whispered.

Tommy’s lips barely moved, but Buck caught it.

“…Loved…” It was barely more than a breath—a whisper, slipping between them.

The word faded on his tongue, unfinished. His grip on Buck’s sleeve slackened.

“Tommy?” His voice cracked, sheer terror ripping through him. “Tommy, hey, no, stay with me—”

“Tommy!” Buck’s voice rose.

But Tommy wasn't answering.

Buck pressed harder against the wound, his palm slick with blood, his hands shaking.

“Tommy,” Buck rasped, shaking him slightly. "Come on, open your eyes baby, just—just look at me."

Nothing.

No response.

The flashing lights flooded the room, red and blue bouncing off shattered glass. Boots pounded against the floor, heavy and fast. Someone was shouting orders.

A hand gripped Buck’s shoulder, trying to pull him back. but Buck fought them, twisting, shoving—he couldn't let go.

"No—wait, wait—he's not—Tommy!"

But the world was spinning, voices blurring together, hands forcing him away.

But all Buck could see was Tommy, unmoving, eyes slipping closed, blood staining his shirt, and the word echoing in his mind over and over.

Loved.

Loved you.

Loved me?

Loved.

-

The world swam back into focus slowly, thick and disoriented—white lights, the steady beeping of a monitor, the distant murmur of voices. Buck sucked in a sharp breath, his chest tight, lungs struggling to expand properly.

A hand pressed gently against his shoulder. “Easy, easy, Buck. You’re fine.”

Buck’s head turned sluggishly. “…Chim?”

“Yeah, you got me,” Chim said. “Maddie was just here—she’s coming back in a minute.”

Buck barely processed it. His body felt heavy, numb, like he was floating—but then—

Tommy.

Buck’s pulse spiked. "Tommy—? TOMMY!"

“Breathe, Buck—”

“No, Chimney, Tommy, he was—he was—”

“Buck.”

A new voice.

Buck whipped his head toward it, eyes still bleary but instantly locking onto Maddie as she entered the room.

“He’s fine, Buck.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. "Fine?"

Chim nodded, his tone light. “He’s alive, Buck. Just got out of surgery about an hour ago. Woke up for a minute, but then drifted back off. Surprisingly, you’ve been out longer than he has.” He gave Buck a teasing grin, trying to lift the mood.

Buck sucked in a breath, his throat tight, burning. “I need to see him.”

Maddie exhaled, already knowing there was no point arguing. “Buck, you just had sur—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chim cut in, sighing as he got up. “He won’t listen. Let’s take him to his room.”

"You need to be checked first,” Maddie insisted.

The minutes the nurse checked him, and the surgeon explaining his injury, felt like a lifetime.

-

Tommy was awake.

He lay still in the bed, his face pale, but he was breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly. When he turned his head and saw Buck, a faint smile tugged at his lips, weak but sincere.

“Hey, Buck.”

Buck sucked in a sharp breath, something tight, angry, relieved twisting in his chest.

“Tommy, if you try to leave me again in any way, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

Tommy huffed out the smallest, breathy laugh. “Violence? Really? I just woke up.”

Buck’s throat burned,, a mix of worry and relief. His hands curling into fists. “And it’s Evan!”

Tommy blinked at that, lips twitching like he wanted to say something smart, but all he did was nod, slow.

Before either of them could say more, the door swung open.

“Oh, you’re up.”

“Sargent grant.” “Athena.”

Tommy’s gaze sharpened immediately. “The guy?”

“He’s in custody.”

Tommy exhaled, half-relief, half-exhaustion.

“He was on drugs,” Athena continued, arms crossing over her chest. “Apparently, his ex-wife used to come here a lot. He must’ve been high, looking for her.”

“Anyone else?” Tommy asked.

Athena shook her head. “Just you two.” She paused. “Because you were sitting closest to the door.”

Tommy shifted slightly, trying to sit up, but winced, the movement clearly uncomfortable. “Huh.”

Buck studied him. “Huh?”

Tommy looked at him with half-lidded eyes, his voice slow and groggy. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Just thinking.”

Athena watched them both carefully, then sighed. “I’ll be back later for your statements, and I’ll let the nurses know you’re awake. And—” she shot Buck a pointed look “—that you snuck in here before you were cleared.”

Buck didn’t even react, his focus locked on Tommy.

A nurse came in to check Tommy’s vitals, adjusting the IV and making sure everything was steady. After a moment, she helped him sit up, propping him against the pillows. Then, she stepped back, nodding to the surgeon who entered next.

Then the surgeon explained Tommy’s surgery— The first shot, the one in his thigh, hadn’t gone deep—just a graze, but deep enough to bleed. The kind of wound that looked worse than it was. The kind of wound Tommy had barely even noticed at the time.

The second bullet had hit his spleen, causing major blood loss. The surgeons had been able to repair the damage, but in the end, they had to remove it.

He’d be okay. It would take time, but he’d be okay.

And then they were alone.

Tommy let out a breath, then huffed out something resembling a laugh. “No appendix, and now no spleen. What’s next?”

“Not funny.”

Tommy blinked at him, then shrugged one shoulder weakly. “A little funny.”

Buck didn’t even bother responding. This wasn’t funny. None of this was. And then the words slipped out before Buck could stop them— “You said loved.”

Tommy blinked. “Did I?”

Buck didn’t waver. “You loved me.”

Tommy opened his mouth—then closed it.

Then, slowly, he sank deeper into the bed, exhaling softly. His gaze flickered away for just a second—like admitting it would make it impossible to take back.

Then, barely above a whisper—raw, honest, a little tired— “I did… still do.”

Buck let out a slow, shaky breath. The weight of the last few hours, the last few months, settling all at once.

His fingers moved before his mind could catch up.

His fingertips ghosted over Tommy’s knuckles, tracing along the edge of his hand, before finally curling around it.

Warm. Steady.

For a moment, Tommy stayed still—then, with a quiet inhale, he shifted his hand, palm turning slightly, fingers twitching before curling weakly around Buck’s. Holding on.

Buck swallowed, held Tommy’s gaze, and nodded once.

“Good.”

[hydrobunny]

'cause he really knows me (so call it what you want)

tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship, argument?, happy ending! 1.1k words

a/n: slightly different style than my previous stuff but it's been a while. fic based on call it what you want.

nagi seishiro isn’t known for being a very public persona.

it’s usually reo who takes that crown; the heir isn’t afraid of posting whatever he has on his mind. his best friend, on the other hand, might as well as not exist for all the presence he has on social media.

you close out of nagi’s blank profile with a sigh.

the teen in question is barely three feet in front of you, headset glued over his ears as some fast-paced first person shooter game blazes on. as if he could hear the sigh, nagi turns around immediately.

“you good?” he asks, dark eyes flicking over your form in scrutiny.

you give him a smile. “fine.”

after a pause, he turns the chair back around, muttering some apology into the headset.

with another exhale, you roll over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. sometimes you wondered if nagi was purposely ignoring you when you were over, or he was actually just that dense.

for god’s sake, you were in his bed. you had been in it for at least two hours, and he had been on the game for probably three.

you eye the back of his head again. all that time on his computer was going to give him a headphone dent soon enough. hell, if you squinted, you could already see it forming.

in one smooth motion, you roll over once again to step off the bed. “bathroom,” you say, not sure why you’re even bothering.

compared to his LED lit bedroom, the rest of nagi’s household is bright, with large windows littering almost every wall. the afternoon sunset peeks in through slightly closed window blinds, you breeze through the hallway, avoiding making any noise.

you’re not really sure where his parents go all the time. you saw them once, for a slightly awkward dinner, and then never again. either way, he doesn’t seem to mind, so you don’t press the issue. you’re pretty sure he’s spent more time with reo than them anyway.

(deep inside, you wonder if it bothers him. you think it might bother you.)

as you enter the bathroom, you realize that you didn’t even need to go.

so why are you here?

you stare at your reflection through the large mirror, eyes tracing the shape of your facial features slowly. is there a particular reason nagi finds better company in the form of online games? does something not fit his many likes?

you find your hand steadily approaching your mouth, and actively push it down. it’s taken you long enough to stop your anxious habit of biting your nails down to the quick, and you’re not excited to start that again.

instead, you go for something safer: turning on the sink and absolutely dousing your face. the coldness helps ground you, helps you realize that you probably should take the hint and just leave.

your phone’s in your hand before you realize, some dark emotion taking over to write a message to your boyfriend.

going home. ill text you tomorrow.

you’ve made a decision. and honestly, you think nagi’s made one too. you doubt he’ll even see this message- or even notice you’re gone- for at least an hour.

it still takes you two minutes to leave the bathroom.

the sound of your steps almost echoes in the large house. your vision blurs with every beat of your heart, and you know that you’re simply being stupid.

crying did not act as a viable solution. crying fixed none of your problems.

your fingers clasp over the door handle-

and there is a hand on your shoulder, bringing you to an abrupt stop.

“hey,” nagi’s familiar voice says. “why are you leaving?”

you turn. and you can spot the exact moment nagi realizes you are crying. his usually tired eyes widen to an extreme, then he’s stepping backward, taking you with him.

“y/n, what's wrong?” he asks. “did something happen?”

so the sobs start coming faster, for you realize he still doesn't understand- he pulls you into his embrace, and your cries become muffled by his soft hoodie. you can tell he’s trying to awkwardly console you from the rhythmic pats on the back.

when you finally manage to get out your words, he immediately freezes.

“sei- sei, it’s you.”

nagi gently pulls you away from his chest. he stares down at you with uncomprehending eyes, still so heartbreakingly concerned.

“it's me?”

those two words get your own tirade flowing.

“i don’t know if you know me anymore. i don't know if you still want me anymore,” you inhale, guttural. “i look at us and wonder if you would notice if i wasn't there. i look at us and don’t even see a couple. i- i think you might be better if i wasn’t here.”

there’s a beat of silence. he swallows.

“i would.” he says softly.

you meet his gaze.

“i would notice if you were gone.” nagi continues. you think he’s never been more ready to talk in his entire life. “y/n, i would notice- i can’t stop noticing you.”

“i don’t say it enough. i know. but i also know that you’ve changed your perfume lately. i know that you’ve been feeding the stray cat in your neighborhood. that you’ve been thinking about going to the beach. that you want another ear piercing. that you’ve started another save in my game.”

you blink rapidly.

“i know i don't sometimes act like it. but i’m listening, y/n. and i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i don’t tell you i love you. because i do. i love you.”

your mouth is hanging open, all tears stopped from sheer surprise. nagi stares at you, gaze searching.

you nod. it’s all he needs.

and so his entire body relaxes into you, and it’s just ironic enough to get you laughing. (and crying, again.)

“i love you too,” you manage out. “i love you too- and i’m sorry i made you leave your game, and i named the cat melon, and-”

nagi snorts into your shoulder.

there’s no more words to be said after that. you're both too busy laughing at each other, hands tangling in the other's hair.

it probably seemed a little strange to other people, having a boyfriend that didn't act like he was a boyfriend to the online world. one that didn't seem to mind long silences. maybe it did bother you, in the smallest sense there was.

but honestly, in moments like these, you were willing to let it go.

because in this moment, seishiro nagi was your boyfriend/lover/something. it didn't matter that he didn’t shout it from the rooptops, didn't matter that no one could put a label on it.

he was here. and he saw you. and that was all you needed.

[cornyonmains]

Was watching a segment on CNN today. Now that they can't divert support from the UHC Shooter, they're now trying to manufacture consent for the idea that this was done in pursuit of Neoliberal reforms, of tweaks around the edges that result in slightly fewer deaths.

Fuck. That.

If we protest, they just ignore it. If we try to fund a candidate to get Medicare For All, they just sabotage him in the primaries. They'll get on TV and turn us all against each other with endless culture war narratives about Starbucks cups and mansplaining, laughing all the way to the bank as the minimum wage sits at $7.25.

The rich thought they were safe when they destroyed the unions, started handing out Nobels to mother fuckers for dropping bombs and telling us greed was good, and started manufacturing consent for their warring and whoring across the globe. All this pain, all this suffering, children in the Middle East killing themselves because they miss their parents, people starving in the streets because feeding them has no profit motive, the drug overdoses, little children getting gunned down in schools....

It was all pain deemed acceptable for the sake of getting the most minute handful of people rich. When I remember how my grandmother cried when my cousin overdosed, I really couldn't tell you what I'd do if I saw one of the Sacklers on the street, that's all I'll say on that.

I just don't want people to forget this hate. It's the first time I've seen both parties unanimously focus on the actual source of their pain in years. The working class really should be united under the banner of class solidarity, not scratching each others eyes out while the rich people rob us blind. Let's fucking do something. Let's put the fear of god into the rich and form a working class coalition that welcomes all. Let's make them stop profiting off our pain.

All those pissed off dude bros who voted for Trump? Here's your chance to be alpha. You wanna keep picking on women online, or do you want to take your power back from the people who actually took it?

[stalkerofthegods]

Lord Dionysus/Bacchus deep dive

Lord Dionysus is an eccentric god, He is an understanding god, I adore him as a researcher and as someone in the community with schizophrenia and mental illness, he is kind far beyond words, he is not only a wine god but also the god of freedom and ecstasy, may we all respect him and may his devotees and worshipers speak of his good deeds and yell in his honor of goodness.

Signs he's reaching out • smelling wine all of a sudden, craving wine, You feel a twinge of madness, dreams with his attributes with him, seeing references of him everywhere

Herbs •psalakanthos plant, Grapes and their vines, Figs, Bay laurel, Barley, Pine, Pomegranate, Fennel, apples, berries, weed, Silver Fir, Bindweed, poppy, wheat and hops leafs, wildflowers, pine cones, Apple seeds, Blazing star. I think he would like Cinnamon, mint, feverfew (happiness), Pepper, basil, chives, horseradish (courage), orange, lemongrass, marjoram (insight), vanilla, sorrel, cinnamon (love) 

Animals• Oxen and wild animals, asses, Leopards, Panther, Cheetah, serpents, rams,  dolphins, tigers, lynx, panthers, goats, bats, griffons, bulls , foxes, deers/fawns

Colors •purple, green, gold, Red, Black, White.

Patron of• fruit and intoxitation, Parties, Festivities, Banquets, Drinking, Bacchic Revelry, Madness, Bacchic Frenzy, Insanity, Hallucination, Homosexuality, Effeminacy, Cross-dressing, Forest Wilderness, Wild vegetation, Predatory big cats, Reincarnation, The path to Elysium, Comedy and Tragedy Plays, Playwrites, Actors, bartenders, the arts, non-binary people, divination, witchcraft, oracles

Curses• violence, and sickness, Destructive insanity, madness

Blessings• pleasure and fun, Religious frenzy (in the orgiastic cults), Ecstasy, Afterlife in Elysium (paradise), getting a bigger friend group, charismatic going up, getting a romantic partner.

Diety of• wine-making, orchards, fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, theatre, partying, Epiphany, weddings, death, sacrifice, sexuality, dancing, immortality, and reincarnation, uninhibited freedom, as well as the subversion of the powerful, ecstasy, and abandon, swamps and marshes.

Crystals• Amethyst, grape agate, Garnet, Ruby, deep red stones, tiger eye, serpentine, leopard jasper, amber, green opal or jade, carnelian, rose quartz (someone had it on their alter for him, so I added it here.), bloodstone, sugilite, purple fluorite, ametrine lepidolite

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Zodiac • Taruas 

Vows/omans• none 

Number• 7 

Morals• he is morally ambiguous

Married to• Ariadne 

Past lovers• Althaia, Ampelos, Aphrodite, Erigone, Kronois, Pallene, Physokoa, Polymnos.

What he favors in devotees• free-spirited, out-of-the-norm, wild lifestyle, gender fluid, transgender, nonbinary people. People are restricted wanting to become free. 

Personality• He brings joy, ecstasy, and merriment, but also delivers "brutal and blinding rage”, he's a very chill guy, many say he is sassy. I met him once, and he respects people's boundaries.

Home• Mount Olympus 

Equivalents/most resemblance • Osiris, Hades, Sabazios, Yahweh, Bacchus, Liber, Tammuz, Orotalt, Fufluns, Acan, Jesus.

Epithets• Acratophorus, Ἀκρατοφό.ρος “giver of unmixed wine at Phigaleia in arcadia, Acroreites at Sicyon Adoneus a Latinised form of Adonis and is also used as an epithet for Bacchus, AegobolusΑἰγοβόλος "goat-shooter" at Potniae in Boeoria, Aesymnetes Αἰσυμνήτης “ruler" or "lord" at Aroë and Patrae in Achaea, Agrios Ἄγριος "wild", in Macedonia, Androgynos Ἀνδρόγυνος ”Androgynous” specifically in intercourse referring to the god taking both an active male and a passive female role, Anthroporraistes, Ἀνθρωπορραίστης “man-destroyer" a title of Dionysus at Tenedos, Bassareus, Βασσαρεύς "fox-skin", which item was worn by his cultists in their mysteries. Bougenes, Βουγενής or Βοηγενής “borne by a cow", in the Mysteries of Lerna,

Braetes, Βραίτης "related to beer" at Thrace, Briseus Βρῑσεύς "he who prevails" in Smyrna, Bromios Βρόμιος "roaring” and "roar of thunder" refering to the wind amd primarily relating to the central death/resurrection element of his myths and also the god's transformations into lion and bull and  of those who drink alcohol and refers to Dionysus' father, Zeus "the thunderer", Choiropsalasχοιροψάλας “pig-plucker" Greek χοῖρος = "pig"(which was  used as a slang term for the female genitalia as A reference to Dionysus's role as a fertility deity), Chthonios Χθόνιος “the subterranean”, Cistophorus Κιστοφόρος "basket-bearer and ivy-bearer" because baskets are sacred to the Dionysus,Dimetor Διμήτωρ "twice-born" which Refers to Dionysus's two births, Dendrites Δενδρίτης "he of the trees" as a fertility god, Dithyrambos Διθύραμβος used at his festivals referring to his premature birth, Eleutherios Ἐλευθέριος “the liberator" also a epithet shared with Eros, Endendros ("he in the tree"), Enorches "with balls" with reference to his fertility, or "in the testicles" in reference to Zeus' sewing the baby Dionysus "into his thigh" which means his testicles used in Samos and Lesbos, Eridromos"good-running" in Nonnus' Dionysiaca, Erikryptos Ἐρίκρυπτος "completely hidden" in Macedonia, Euaster Εὐαστήρ from the cry "euae",  Euius (Euios), from the cry "euae" in lyric passages, and in Euripides’ play “the bacche, Lacchus Lακχος a possible epithet which is associated with the Elusinian Mysteries, The name "Iacchus" may come from the Ιακχος (Iakchos) whicj is a hymn sung in honor of Dionysus.

Indoletes, Ἰνδολέτης, meaning slayer/killer of Indians Due to his campaign against the Indians, Isodaetes, Ισοδαίτης, meaning "he who distributes equal portions", cult epithet which is also shared with Helios, Kemilius, Κεμήλιος and kemas: "young deer, pricket",

Liknites "he of the winnowing fan", as a fertility god connected with mystery religions ( a winnowing fan was used to separate the chaff from the grain.)

Palazzo Massimo, Rome, Lenaius, Ληναῖος "god of the wine-press", Lyaeus, or Lyaios Λ��αῖος, "deliverer” and "loosener") which refers to him as who releases from care and anxiety, 

Lysius, Λύσιος "delivering, releasing" At Thebes there was a temple of Dionysus Lysius, MelanaigisΜελάναιγις "of the black goatskin" at the Apaturia festival, 

Morychus Μόρυχος “smeared" in Sicily, because his icon was smeared with wine less at the vintage, Mystes Μύστης "of the mysteries" at Tegea in Arcadia, Nysian Nύσιος according to Philostatus he was called like this by the Ancient indians  Most probably, because according to legend he founded the city of Nysa, Oeneus, Οἰνεύς "wine-dark" as god of the wine press, Omadios “flesh-eater", Eusebius writes in Preparation for the gospel that Euelpis of Carystus states that in Chios and Tendos they did a human sacrifice to Dionysus Omadios, 

Phallen , (Φαλλήν) (probably "related to the phallus” at Lesbos, Phleus "related to the bloοm of a plant", Peudanor Ψευδάνωρ "false man" referring to his feminine qualities in Macedonia,

Pericionius, Περικιόνιος "climbing the column (ivy)" a name of Dionysus at Thebes, Semeleios or Semeleius or Semeleus an obscure epithet meaning 'He of the Earth' and 'son of Semele' Also “Son of Semele, Iakchus, wealth-giver”, 

Skyllitas, Σκυλλίτας “related to the vine-branch" at Kos, Sykites, Συκίτης "related to figs" at Laconia,Taurophagus, Ταυροφάγος “bull eating", Tauros Ταῦρος “a bull", Theoinus, Θέοινος wine-god of a festival in Attica, Τhyiοn, Θυίων "from the festival of Dionysus 'Thyia' (Θυῐα) at Elis", Thyllophorus, Θυλλοφόρος "bearing leaves" at Kos, Dionysus and Zeus absorbs the role of Sabazios (a Thracian/Phrygian deity)

Facts• Dionysus was the last god to enter Olympus, When Dionysus had grown up lady Hera made him into a state of madness so he wandered through many countries of the earth, He was a student of the famous centaur Chiron who taught him how to dance, The common names Dennis and Denise are said to be derived from Dionysus. he hated the sight of an owl

Roots• Ancient Greece, Greek mythology, Mount Pramnos on Ikaria

Offerings • Honey, Meat, Alcohol (especially wine), Fruit, Cakes, Poetry, Songs, Spices (ex- cinnamon), Blood or liquids resembling blood, He thinks those "wine mom" signs that you get in cheap gift shops are hilarious, Grape juice, Intoxicants, Grapes, Olive oil, Apples, Figs, Eggs, Goblets, Curved daggers, Bull horns, Snake skin, Leopard or tiger print objects, Purple candles, Theatre masks, Sexual toys, Percussion instruments, Wine bottles, Fake/toy grapes, Leaves or curls from grapevines, Pine needles, Pinecones, Apple seeds, Bindweed, Wildflowers, Toys photos or art of any big cats, snakes, Hymns, Songs you’ve written, Any art that you create, Any stories that you create, Art, pictures of the comedy, Wine corks, Wine labels, Toy or miniature drums, milk, water from the sea (he has a strong connection with the sea), Decorative beads, party beads, flashy jewelry, Wine glasses, Shot glasses, Corkscrews, Sparkling cider, Grape flavored things, Cheese, hallucinogens, Nips (small alcohol bottles), Bottle opener, Beer/soda tabs, Alcohol bottles with cool labels, Costumes, NatureFig/fig newtonsBull imagery, Donkey imagery, Bones, Antlers, Dead/preserved animals, Hiking gear, Seeds, Concert/festival tickets, Locks of hair, Shaven beard hair, Pride swag, ravagant clothes/clothes that make you feel good, soup (you know , you know.)

Devotional • learn about sacred sex, shamanic journeying, responsible entheogen use, and alcohol as a sacrament, read “The Secret History” book, Make a playlist for Him, Dance and sing to your favorite songs or songs you’d think He would like, Throw a feast in His honor, Remembering to take your medication and taking care of your mental health, Support/donate to your local theatre in His name, Be a part of the theatre, Stand up for those that are marginalized, Write stories/plays for Him, Invite Him to watch plays or movies with you (especially comedies or tragedies), Throw parties or attend them, Attend festivals, Attend a wine tasting, Go on wine tours, Attend parades, Masturbate or partake in sexual acts for Him (if you’re comfortable doing so And over 18), Drink alcohol or grape juice, Smoke po, Learn about winemaking, Support local vineyards, Wear wreaths made from ivy, Wear faux leopard or tiger print, Wear the color purple, Pray to Him for things while intoxicated/high, Visit your local winery and participate in a grape-stomp, do some Homebrewing in his honor, Grow a garden in his honor, Make your own ritual tools in his honor, Collect art, do Glamourbombs in his honor, Pretend to be somebody else in his honor, go out to a club in his honor, listen to music in his honor, read in his his mythos, write things for a ritual and write a prayer for him, eat some grapes or have some grape juice or sparkling grape juice (or wine if able and of age), listen to party music, read plays, watch musicals or plays (ex- high school musical, Hamilton), listen to musical soundtracks, learn about the history of theatre, learn about viticulture and vineyards, do things that bring you pleasure, listen to party soundscapes, watch documentaries about any of his sacred animals, Trip intentionally/spiritually, Learn about substance abuse/recovery, Destigamtize drug users, Learn about harm reduction, Make home videos, Write poetry, Act, Dress up, Go to the woods, Dance/sing in the woods, Meditate in the woods, Learn wilderness safety and first aid, Learn what to do when encountering a wild animal, Go off the beaten path, Explore new areas, Pick up litter, Forage, Recycle bottles, Grow fruit, Try new fruits, Have sex (let the partner know beforehand it's in Diyonisus honor, 18+), Masturbate (18+), Have threesomes/swing (ask him before and make sure the other participants know it's in Dionysus's honor, 18+.), Finally, give into that one kink you’ve been ignoring (you know the one, 18+), Learn about consent with partners, Learn how to preserve dead animals, Learn about different life cycles (ex-plants, animals), Learn about immigration in your area, Learn about different cultures, Try foreign foods, Learn a new language, Learn about your ancestry, Help immigrants in your area, Grow your hair out, Keep a Manifest/Keep a manifestation journal, Use Sexual/creative energy to manifest, Shed your old self, Do Self-reflection/self-exploration, Identify areas where you overindulge (ex- food, substances, spending).

Symbols• Grapevine, ivy, phallus, Thyrsus, theatrical masks, Leopard Skin, Panther, Cheetah, the animal called asses, cymbals, swords, or serpents, rams, laurel, asphodel,  dolphins, tiger, lynx, panther, horns, goats, his chariot pulled by 2 leopards, masks in general. 

Siblings• Ares, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hebe, Hermes, Heracles, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Perseus, Minos, the Muses, the Graces.

His friends/gets along with• Maenads and Bacchantes and Satyrs and Sileni and Pan and Priapus

Attendees• Seilenos (God of Drunkenness), Pan (God of Shepherds & Pastures) the Satyroi and Seilenoi (spirits of Fertility & the Wild) The Bakkhantes and Mainades (Nymphe and Women revellers) Komos Satyriskos (cup-bearer)

Appearance in astral or gen• Dionysus often took on a bestial shape and was associated with various animals, often wearing an Ivy wreath, the thyrsus, and the kantharos (a large two-handled goblet) In early Greek art he has represented as a mature male, bearded and robed holding a fennel staff tipped with a pine-cone, but later on he was portrayed as youthful sensuous, naked or semi-naked androgynous youth and effeminate with brown hair and pale features, often holding grapes and drinking wine.

Parentage•  Zeus and Semele, some sources also say Zeus and Demeter, some say Zeus and Persephone, but he always sends up with Persephone as a foster mother or as a biological mother, but before his reincarnation, his parents were Ammon and Amalthea.

Pet• leopards

Children • Priapus, Hymen, Thaos, Staphylus, Ononpion, Cumus, Phthonus, the Graces and Deianira, Seilenos, Pan, Satyroi & Seilenoi, Bakkhantes & Mainades, Komodo’s

season and festivles• Diyonosus festivals were bacchanalia, Dionysia, Anthesteria, Dionysian, Lenaia, Panathenaia,  his season was spring and March and April

Day• 11th to the 13th of the month of Anthesterion, around the time of the January or February full moon.

Sacred places• Boitia in Greece, naxos Greek, island Edina in western Thrake, his holiest shrine was Mt kithairon (Nysa) in Boiotia Greece, he also declared war on India. A sacred place is the theatre.

Status• Greek god in the major theoi, and an agriculture Demi God. 

Pet peeves• Uderestemating him, he probably won't like it if you ignore him

Music• Disco, show tunes, psychedelic rock, acid folk, Greek folk music, EDM, classical, new wave, art pop, vaporwave, just anything you can dance and sing to.

Tarot• Temperance, fool card, three of cups, the tower, 9 of cups (based off of how people see him through their tarot cards) 

Scents/Inscene • Pine incense,  frankensince, patchouli and vanilla, nutmeg, mulled wine, storax, and Benzoin.

Prayers•

Regular prayer

Dionysos, god whose arrival is swift and certain, enduring friend of women and men whose welcome is warm, bringer of light, we see you in shadows. Dionysos, granter of great blessings, your presence is a heady wine. Kind-hearted god, to each you give as is fitting, each vessel you fill only as we can bear, and yet with even a sip, we are drunk upon you, and our faith is affirmed. Awesome god, by our own will we drink deeply, with you we become lost, we wander, we are found.

Litany to Dionysos

Dionysos of the vine, rich-tressed god of wine, potent and lusty, unmixed, undiluted, with full force you come to us, vital and robust, rich and strong and surprisingly sweet. Dionysos, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Ivy-bearing Dionysos, god of the green, of the power of root on stone, the force of life that will make its own way in spite of all who labor to hold it back, no will or work can bind your might. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos of the deep earth, of the dark world, of the unknown expanse beneath the black soil, beneath solid stone, of mysteries you know much, of death and of what lies beyond. God of secrets, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos the inspiring, granter of words of prose or poesy, words heard best by the drunken and the mad, words forgotten with the passing of night and delight. Bacchus, granter of rare transport, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos Soter, holder of the hearts of men, you free us from the cares of the world, each brilliant frenzied moment a shining jewel, each glimpse of the sacred more precious than gold. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Kindly Dionysos, granter of good to men and women, giver of gifts to all who seek your blessing. Gracious Dionysos, accepter of offerings great and small, friend of mankind, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Regular Prayer to Dionysos

Dionysos, deep-hearted one who knows the souls of men and women, whose hand is ever open, ever within reach. Dionysos, god who runs in the dark, who sees with eyes shut tight, who dances to the heart’s strong beat, ever are you yourself, ever constant, ever changing god of those who are trapped, those who seek your truth and their own, those who seek vision beyond seeing, those who seek wisdom beyond knowledge, those who seek the self, pure and sweet, those who seek clarity beyond definition, who seek to embrace the uncertain, to hold, but loosely, to what is true beyond trust.

Regular prayer to Dionysos

I praise Dionysos, lord of the vine, lord of the far reaches of the mind; in the thick of the woods, along darkened paths, in the shadows of dusk and of dawn, you roam the world, the satyrs and the pretty nymphs dancing in your wake. Son of Zeus and fair-haired Semele, bold-hearted Semele, who dared to look into the face of glory, beautiful Semele who you carried into life again, Semele reborn who men called Thyone; beloved of clever Ariadne, quick-witted one, so dear to your heart, your bright-eyed bride and consort; Dionysos, friend of women, friend of the blissful, wild-eyed maenads, pilgrims and pioneers, those who seek, your cheer and inspiration, those who seek your release, from sorrow and despair, those who are lost in joy, and those who have found themselves in you. Dionysos, god of the darkest dark and the deepest deep, boundless one, endless one, fathomless one, in you we see the edges of ourselves, in you, we find our life’s journey, in you we find our home.

To Dionysos

I call to Dionysos, great god of the vine, son of thundering Zeus and headstrong Semele, loving husband of warm-hearted Ariadne. From the east you came, old before the ancients, throughout the elder world were you beloved; in Naxos and Boitia were you celebrated, in temples and in the savage wilderness, the fleet-footed maenads running in your wake. The sweetest, strongest wine is ever your drink; the mind’s release, the body’s loosening, your gift. O Dionysos; thyrsus-shaker, ivy-crowned god, we see you in the shadows, we see you on the edges, we see you in the haze of ecstasy, where we know the truth of passion, where we find the essence of our being. Bacchus, I call to you!

| Sources & websites in comments. |

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[cracklinhaze]

What's your favorite part of writing Pacifica? Are there anything about it that surprised you?

everything about pacifica northwest surprised me tbh

i will be completely real: i didn't really care about her for a good period of time. didn't hate her or anything, but she was just not a character that scratched my brain.

and then.

one day. for some fucking reason. i clicked with her. she just wiggled into my head and wouldn't leave???? pacifica northwest: only heir to the northwest family, molded to be exactly what her parents want her via a pavlovian response to a bell??

Things About Pacifica Northwest That Make Her Babygirl To Me

her secret favorite food is deep-fried anything

there's a very slim chance that she actually has blonde hair

she may not be be preston's kid biologically???

her father hosts grown-up masquerade parties highly implied to be swinger/sex parties

she's canonically had her memories erased by the blind eye

rich awful twelve-year-old to tired diner waitress pipeline

she's a secret first-person shooter gamer girl

she would cry listening to her parents' fight growing up

is now protected by the lumberfolk spirits :(

turned DOWN a deal with bill

routinely dreams of blood on her hands

thinks about the pines twins daily

was maybe quite silly as a little girl, much like mabel, but it was forced out of her

i mean, look at this face:

[drownedinlavender]

⋆｡°✩South Park High School AU Headcanons⋆｡°✩

Mainly written to get out of my writers block lmaoo. This is a guide to all my headcanons in my “Be Nice to Me” fanfic

⋆｡°✩ Kyle Broflovski:

6'2”. Tall with lean muscle. Ginger with emerald green eyes and light freckles. Very curly hair with trimmed sides.

Juggles the debate club, basketball team, student council, and too many AP classes to count.

The first to get his driver's license out of the main 4 + Leopold.

His parents got him a car for his birthday for doing so well academically.

Works and volunteers during the summer.

Gets into detention often due to Cartman baiting him into fights.

Has gotten benched multiple times for playing too aggressively in basketball games when instigated by rival teams.

Has a tight knit study group with Wendy, Tolkien, and Nichole.

They help each other out with their AP classes but also consider each other rivals, trying to beat the other for the title of valedictorian.

Very good at first person shooters, often out performing Cartman.

Knows how to build a PC.

Learned how to program in his free time.

Spends time with his family and has a close relationship with Ike.

Knows Cartman’s schedule better than Cartman himself

Begrudgingly gives Cartman rides to school sometimes. Will leave him if he takes too long though.

⋆｡°✩Eric Cartman:

5'10”. Big, bulky build. A lot of arm muscle + big belly. Soft chestnut brunette hair. Dark reddish brown eyes. Thick eyebrows.

Is both on the football and hockey teams. He likes to use both sports as an excuse to be a major asshole towards others and uses his size to his advantage.

In the board games club. Argues with Nichole a lot for leadership.

Has a hard time studying and paying attention due to ADHD.

Does enough school work to pass. Thinks school is pointless and a big scam.

Would much rather play video games or watch TV instead of school work.

Unfortunately, to his Spanish teacher's demise, outperforms others in Spanish class.

Prefers first person shooters but also loves dress up games. Would kill anyone that found out.

Will trash talk your mom but if someone trash talks his mom he WILL dox them.

Loves reality tv. Big fan of RuPaul's drag race, Love is Blind, the Real Housewives.

Is a menace on reddit.

Has gotten his account reported many times on reddit, discord, and twitter.

Planning to major in business or finance in college.

The last of the main 4 + Leopold(Butters) to learn how to drive. Was genuinely too lazy and constantly bummed rides off the others anyway, specially Kyle.

⋆｡°✩Stan Marsh:

5'11”. Average build. Straight dark black hair. Wears a beanie often since his hair gets oily fast. Dark blue eyes.

Stan loves writing and listening to music. He's very big into metal, rock, and Midwest emo right now.

His extracurriculars are football and the board game club.

He volunteers at animal shelters in his free time and fundraisers for the environment.

He's an average student, usually getting Bs and Cs, and a D if he doesn't study enough.

He's terrible at multitasking. He's a very forgetful person.

Wendy and Kyle constantly have to remind him about deadlines and big projects.

On his 16th birthday, his dad gave him his old pick up truck.

Tolkien comes over often and they do homework together. He helps Stan with math a lot.

Stan and Kyle still consider themselves best friends even if they don't live right next door.

Crimson Dawn meets up often, practicing at Stan's since they can be as loud as they want there.

Sometimes friends like Kyle, Wendy, Timmy, and Tolkien come over to just hang out with the others and watch the band practice.

Stan and Wendy have been off and on since elementary school. It's obvious when they're not dating since Stan sometimes relapses back into his goth phase.

Stan and Tolkien have hooked up on a few occasions when Stan and Wendy broke up.

Tolkien has also dated Wendy on more than one occasion.

Stan is the type of kid that casually gets along with every “clique” in school since he doesn't really have beef with anyone. He's a very chill guy who often reacts pretty indifferently to most things.

⋆｡°✩Kenny Mccormick:

5’8”. Very skinny, mainly due to a poor diet. Wavy dirty blonde hair, tends to grow it out or cuts it short depending on his mood. Purple eyes. Front tooth gap.

Kenny's been working overtime while attending school since middle school. He gets paid under the table for most of it.

He saved up just enough to buy a really run down, beat up, used car. It's a stick shift and requires a ton of repairs.

He learned a lot about mechanics in order to save money and not have to take it anywhere to get fixed.

He learned how to drive stick shift and how to fix a car through YouTube.

He takes and picks up Karen from school. He also pays for all of her school supplies and encourages her to pick up extracurriculars.

Kenny doesn't have to study in order to get good grades in school. He barely has to do his homework either. As long as he listens to the lectures and skims through the material, he’ll pass. If he didn’t work overtime then he would be highly ranked in their year.

Kenny barely sleeps 4 hours a day. 5 on a good day.

He plans to keep working at the same pace and go to a trade school. Once he is more settled and his sister is an adult able to stand on her own, he might go back to school but he doesn't really stress about it and prefers living day by day then worrying about the future.

⋆｡°✩Leopold Butters Scotch:

5’9”. Lanky. Light blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

Works while attending school. Is very good at saving money.

Bought his own car at 16. Very safe driver with the occasional outburst of road rage.

Bought his own gaming PC. It's Hello Kitty themed. His favorite games are Animal Crossing and Hello Kitty Island Adventure.

Does very well in school.

Tutors others in his free time.

Volunteers to read for preschoolers at the community library.

Works as a summer camp counselor during the summers.

Cartman copies his homework when he isn't looking.

Part of the Board Game club and the Cheerleading squad.

Still gets grounded by his parents a lot but plans to live in College dorms soon.

Misc.

⋆｡°✩Clyde is part of the football team and basketball team. Sports are his bread and butter. He doesn't do well academically. Cry baby. Is on and off with Bebe.

⋆｡°✩Craig is captain of the space club. Wants to become an astronaut. Has been consistently dating Tweek ever since getting shipped by the Asian girls.

⋆｡°✩Tweek works at his dad's coffee shop while attending school. It has become a bit of a hub for the kids to hang out so it's doing well and he gets paid well. Is great at saving money. Loves playing DnD and really gets into character. Attends the space club with Craig.

⋆｡°✩Tolkien is a star student. Plays basketball, football, and is in the student council. Has dated Nichole, Wendy, Stan, and Clyde. None of his relationships ever end poorly. Is friendly with everyone. Is arguably the most popular, well liked kid in school.

⋆｡°✩Bebe is bisexual and has dated a few of the girls when off with Clyde. Clyde has no game however and barely dates anyone when they are broken up. She's part of cheerleading, volleyball, and the yearbook club. She's a minor influencer online, focusing on fashion, beauty, feminism, and human rights.

⋆｡°✩Wendy and Kyle constantly compete for valedictorian. She's captain of the debate team, cheerleading squad (Bebe vice captain), and volleyball team (Nichole vice captain). Stan and her have almost consistently dated with some hiccups here and there. They don't break up as often as Clyde and Bebe but when they have, she's dated Tolkien and Bebe briefly. She volunteers in a multitude of different organizations and feels very passionate about every cause she takes up. Has a substantial following on Twitter where she's very vocal about her beliefs.