#but I just keep getting told that my general physical condition is my fault and I’m a burden for needing more support than others

[nope-body]

.

[goodluckclove]

Why Are You a Writer?

So the other day I did the second of my Writer's Refuge interview series, soon to be posted later this week. It went pretty well! It was with an artist on here I admire a lot and it was a really interesting conversation.

Perhaps even too interesting. We got onto the topic on why a person would tell stories, and their answer ended up being drastically different than mine. It ended up sending my on a little bit of a spiral (No fault of yours if you read this, Cass), but I didn't really talk about it with her at the time. You know, it's an interview. It's not about me.

My instinct when I'm feeling emotionally vulnerable is to sort of hide away most of the time, but it's a sleepy day in the Gardener household and I think it might help me to talk about it. So below the read more I'm going to get deeper into the question often asked to people in my trade: why are you a writer?

Spoiler alert: it's because I'm lonely.

No real gravitas or dramatics there, I don't think. Little actual literary merit. I've heard people say that they're writers because they're overtaken by stories, just a vessel to the act of creation that can't help but craft narratives. I think that's cool in theory, and it's something I relate to, but I also think it's a mind type that doesn't exist in a vacuum.

I grew up a child of addicts with about a five and eight-year age gap between me and the rest of my siblings. We were conditioned to be deeply loyal to each other and care in the way our parents couldn't care for us, but most of the time my siblings didn't want to play with me. My parents didn't want to play with me. I had a few friends at school, but not many of them were able to hang out with me outside of campus for one reason or another. Throughout my developmental years I spent a majority of my time on my own, just figuring out different ways to entertain myself.

And I felt a fundamental other-ing from the rest of the people around me. I was precocious, considered "mature for my age" (a poison adults have been feeding the youth for generations), but it went deeper than that. I would speak quickly to my peers, joking almost frantically without letting them get a word in edgewise. It felt like they all knew a common language I was never able to learn and never could. At one point in middle school I told myself I was better than them. i don't think that anymore. Now I'm just confused.

As an adult I'm often confused by other people, sometimes to the point of fear. I struggle to stay afloat in large social situations, to look charming and keep the other person placated and talking, making sure they don't realize the fundamental truth that I'm not supposed to be there. Sometimes it gets to the point where I'm so exhausted that I physically can't look at human faces for hours afterwards. They all look like fleshy slugs.

Does that make sense? I say that a lot in conversation with those around me, a constant plea for validation. Am I making sense?

So I write. I write a lot. With no other line of work at the moment I've been writing about 60k words every month for the better part of the last year. And I do it to tell a story I'm passionate about, sure. I do it to process emotional ghosts from my past. But if I'm being honest with myself I know I write to create a connection between myself and the audience. To create a story that someone can read or watch and say "I understand", even if their interpretation is different than my own.

I do it because I'm lonely. And I'm not really proud of that. But it's the truth.

Riley was surprised when I told them this. So are you saying that if you were happy you wouldn't be a writer? They asked. Well, I am happy. I'm also lonely. These two things can exist at once.

But if I had a different life. A more functional family system that would've likely resulted in me needing far less treatment than I currently do. If all that was the case then I might not see the need to be deeply embedded in my own head. The rest of the world might not come off as the threat it sometimes is. But then again, my life and my identity would be so drastically different that I don't really see the point in speculating.

Would I be a writer? Maybe. I don't know. I'd probably have other hobbies.

I don't usually like talking about myself like this. It feels indulgent. A little too skin-less for my tastes. But, as with anything else, maybe someone younger and in a similar state could read me talking in this way and feel an aspect of comfort. If one person does then that would be worth it. I'm glad I'm a writer and I think I'm a capable one. I'm also aware that being a capable writer doesn't necessarily mean you're also deeply neurotic, which is both a comfort and a small point of envy.

If you've read to this point - which, by the way, is an oddity of cosmic proportions to me, maybe reblog and speak a bit about how you became a writer. But maybe be a little honest with yourself. If it comes from a deep well of pain, that's meaningful. If you just want to create a powerful story that people can lose themselves in, that's also meaningful.

You don't need to suffer to be a good artist. That's absolutely not something I believe to any extent. I'm just one of the ones that did, and that's something I'm going to have to work out over the course of the next rest of my life.

I don't know. I'm rambling. Maybe it can be your turn to talk now.

[luminousbravery]

I am a 5'6" biological female, I use she/her/they pronouns(god that sounds cringey), I am bisexual(I'm pretty sure, at least), have medium length dark brown hair, and turquoise/greenish eyes(i don't really know what color they are), and I wear black glasses with clear rims. I have what most would describe as the 'hourglass/pear' body shape with larger hips and B cup breasts. I tend to wear baggy, comfort-first sort of clothes with the occasional dress and one piece.

My classpect is the Sylph of Life, and my true sign is Virsces.

My zodiac signs(If you care) are Virgo(sun), Libra(moon), and Libra(ascendant). I also have the INTP personality type.

Facts about me:

I have been told than I have a high maturity level for someone my age(but I laugh at dumb jokes so idk if I believe them)

I enjoy cracking jokes about anyone and anything, NO ONE IS SHIELDED FROM MY COMEDIC WRATH

I am kind, polite, relaxed, have a dark sense of humor and generally low self-esteem

I try to be open-minded, and am always looking to improve my talents and relationships with those I care about

Critical and suspicious of everything (especially myself)

I can be insensitive, petty, and sometimes even knowingly dismissive of my faults, and try to blame others instead

I lie a lot more than I'd like to admit, but try to make up for it and improve

I come from an primarily Christian family, my favorite season is fall/winter, and I would like to create other forms of art other than writing at some point

I used to have what could be considered a phobia of insects/bugs, but it has become a lot mild over the years

I mostly enjoy physical affection more so than verbal, but if worded in certain ways that can touch my heart, I will prefer the latter, and you will have acquired a loyal ally (I respect the power of words, I am a writer after all)

I am what is described as a HSP (hyper sensitive person, look it up if you're curious)

I have a condition called Exotropia (aka drifting eye) in my left eye that has been corrected through 3 surgeries (but I still have to wear glasses in order to maintain it).

A firm believer that nothing is truly impossible, and that people hate most in others what they hate in themselves

Confused by everything 24/7… EVERYTHING

Likely on the autism spectrum

Definitely a perfectionist

I try by best not to start conflict(that is my sister's job), and I hate when people put me in situations where I have to make a personal choice... but that also means I mask my own emotions a lot(help)

I'm always working to keep other happy… sometimes I think too much

Likes: Being helpful, alternative, rock, and indie music, order and peacefulness, making people laugh, Sci-Fi media, writing/creating, tarot cards, D&D, anything to do with the diversity of personalities, psychology, cooking and baking, many fandoms

Dislikes: Being a burden, country music, drama and chaos, low effort creative endeavors, hypocrites(ironically), closed minded people, bad grammar, things not going my way, extremely religious people(who try to force their beliefs onto others), weird internet trends and phrases (ex: pogchamp, dummy thicc, boomer, etc.), most of tumblr, Twitter

And that should be most of the important stuff (just so I don't get carried away)! I am very interested to see who you match me with!

i pair you with...

Kanaya Maryam!

I feel like your personality would go along and compliment hers well. Other than the bug thing... but i'm sure things can be worked out!

[jarofstyles]

hey besties, pls do a football player Harry (soccer in case ur american lol) and physical therapist y/n !!

I know absolute shit all about football (soccer bc we are American) but we can give it a go!!! Plz don’t be mad I don’t know anything about it cause it’s ✨make believe ✨

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

—-

He was a little shit.

A beautiful, charming, irritating, little shit.

When Y/N has signed on for this team, being the medic was something she had been passionate about for years. Having her own accident and making it so she couldn’t properly play anymore, it was her mission to still be involved in the game so how. Y/N’s own injury and healing process had her become more and more interested in the profession, and here she was.

It wasn’t everything she had dreamed of, as nothing ever was, but it was good. She got to sit field-side every game, close to the action. And every injury she got first look at. She helped the guys with their stretches, their previous injuries and keeping them from Re-injuring themselves, taking care of them and making sure their physical shape was the best it could be.

In general? She was happy. But there was one man who was a thorn in her side and a pain in her crotch.

Harry Styles.

The man who decided it was his personal mission to follow her around like a puppy dog. Popping up in her singular moments of peace during game day. Texting her and asking about very, very small twists of ankles and giving her the ‘🥺 maybe you should come and look at it…’ whenever he did so.

Not to mention his complete and utter want to get into her pants.

Now it wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle a few sexual jokes. Y/N was a big girl and knew 99% of the time, the guys on the team knew their limit. And Harry? Harry, in reality, was a gentleman. Never touched her inappropriately, ever. But the problem was… she kind of wanted him to.

There was no actual clause against staff members and players being together or hooking up. Nope, just frowned upon. Maybe a slap on the wrist. However Y/N knew, she knew that the moment anyone caught wind of her potential affections for any team member or acting on it? It would end with everyone thinking she slept with them to get the job.

Y/N worked long and hard. Tireless hours for make sure these men were healthy, fit, and at their best. She wouldn’t sleep with anyone for any job, and she was actually respected by this team which was something a lot of women weren’t in this field. She could not and would not throw it away for a good dicking.

Fuck, did she want to sometimes.

—-

Harry had these hands. The perfect hands, in her opinion. Big, strong with thinner fingers. Long fingers. A good sized palm, not overly veiny, just perfection in male hand scales. Luckily (or unluckily, whatever way you’d put it) she got to handle them often.

“S’sore today, doc.” He winced, sitting on the table in front of her. Harry’s wrist throbbed. It was rainy, and it was usually a wreck when it was the perfect condition. The ache was annoying, and he knew she had a solution.

Her lips pouted softly as she gently took the hand in place, thumbing over the part of the wrist where rhe injury had occurred. She had learned a while ago where to press, how to rub and get it to lessen before she wrapped it up. “Yeah… old injuries tend to never let you forget.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

Harry never could get over how fucking gorgeous Y/N was. From her nose to her lips, the pretty sparkle in her eye, the curve of her hip… he was obsessed. Not to mention the fact that she was so gentle with him. So kind and sweet, though he knew he got on her nerves with his teasing sometime. She could handle it and he always tried to watch to make sure he wasn’t going too far, but he couldn’t help it.

He was a silly boy with a bit fat crush.

Y/N didn’t bite for any of them. Everyone had attempted when she first came on, testing the waters. Her pretty face was welcome to all the blokes in the team, and there was something incredibly attractive about a woman who could heal. Nonetheless, she never gave in to anything.

In Harry’s case, he knew it was different. He could see her smile at some jokes, see her get the bumps on her skin when he brushed her a certain way. But she avoided the eye contact. Avoided the touches. And it drove him mad.

Of course she wouldn’t know he had actual feelings for him because he was a giant coward most of the time. He hid his affection in the dirty jokes and the teasing squeezes of her waist and teasing. He was a thick skinned man but a full rejection form her would hurt.

Her soft fingers gently massaged over the wrist, making him groan. His head tilted back and he let it out, hissing slightly when she pressed too hard. “Oooh, don’t worry sweetheart. Y’know I like it to hurt a little.” His wide smirk made her roll her eyes huffing under her breath.

Y/N was not having a great day. She had been harassed by an Ex all fucking night over her new job. Making all the damn assumptions that she was getting ‘trained by the team’ in a much more vulgar way, and she had cried half the night. To say she wasn’t in the mood was an understatement, but she was trying.

Harry was not what she needed today, because it made her feel worse. Her blatant attraction to him made her feel guilty. She should be professional and leave it with. The way she had squeeze her legs tighter while he groaned didn’t help her case. The ugly words of how they’ only kept her around for a potential fuck’ was ringing in her head.

Harry though, he was a little oblivious. Her hands were so talented, and he didn’t watch her face for once as she hit a good spot again and he let out another remark.

“Jesus, that’s good. Do those magic hands work everywhere?”

That was the straw that broke her. It wasn’t his fault necessarily, he was just playing. But her eyes watered, hand yanking away as she turned from him, walking over to the bench. Trying to compose herself was hard as the tears burned so hard in her eyes, hands shaking slightly.

Harry startled, not used to that. She never flinched away like that, never ignored his remark and walked away. Usually told him to fuck off, rolled her eyes, something. But the energy in the room immediately shifted and he was uncomfortable. What had happened?

Cautiously, he cleared his throat and stood up from the bench, licking over his dry lips as he spoke again. “Uh… Y/N?”

“S’all I’m good for, right?” She muttered under her breath. Frantically wiping under her eyes she tried to focus on the paper in front of her but she could feel Harry approaching.

He furrowed his brow, not sure if he heard correctly. “Wha-“

Y/N whipped around fast, eyes teary and wet. “I said, that’s all I’m good for right? Only good for my hands and sex and all that pleasure you can get from me?” She hissed. “Only good for a romp in the sheets and a pretty face to heal your wounds and put on band aids. Only good to make you get off and feel good and then what? I’m left here with nothing.”

The tears left her, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. Harry felt his stomach drop. Never, ever had he wanted to make her feel like that. Her crying? That wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He felt like he had taken a ball to the gut, hard. Those eyes he adored being full of pain, full of tears was his own personal hell.

“Y/N… wait, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ he tried to follow her to the door, stopping abruptly when she lifted a hand up to him. Her stomping had made him nervous. Now she was leaving without talking to him and he felt like a complete dick. It was their normal teasing, but he had crossed a line.

“Don’t. Just…. Just leave me alone. I’m going home.”

—-

As much as Harry had wanted to chase after her, he had already made her cry once. He wasn’t risking it again.

The icky, gross feeling in his stomach followed him all day. He was gutted. Not only has he apparently crossed a line with someone he respected, he had a fucking crush on her. The man was convinced no other feeling was worse than a crush being angry at him. Even if it sounded juvenile to place it like that.

Harry liked Y/N. He never ever wanted to make her upset in any capacity, let alone feeling like a sex object or violated. He prided himself on respecting women. And he had fucking failed. He needed to make it right, and fast.

-

He had found her address. In her employee file, and he knew that was bad but he needed to check on her. Regardless of what happened beforehand, she was upset by him enough to leave and go home and he wanted to make sure she was genuinely okay.

It was an overstep and Harry knew it. He had to try, though.

He arrived at her door step with a box of cupcakes and some flowers. Gently kicking the floor, he heard the door open and his heart broke a little more.

Y/N standing in front of him with swollen eyes. She had been crying, seemingly a lot. And she looked upset still. Though he expected her to close the door in his face and tell him to fuck off. But she didn’t.

Instead, she broke into tears again, throwing herself into his chest. Her arms wrapping around his waist, he nearly tumbled over but righted himself as he startled. Quickly he found himself recovering, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her. He was able to maneuver slightly and drop the cupcakes on her entry table, flowers as well before having his arms free.

“Hey…. Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He whispered softly, gently placing a hand on her back. Rubbing it up and down, letting her cry into his tee shirt. It was worrying. Whatever happened was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to let that take away from the fact he had added and made it worse.

“I’m sorry.” Her muffled response was sobbed into his shirt. “I’m sorry for yelling… and saying you thought those things, you were playing and I…” she pulled back worth tear streaked cheeks and Harry’s look of pure concern making her lip wobble. “You didn’t do it. It was… he kept sayin’ that all the team wants is in my pants, and you make me feel guilty because you’re so…. Beautiful, and I never slept with anyone to get this job! Never. And then he wouldn’t leave me alone-“ she hiccuped, looking up at Harry as he caressed the back of her head.

“Who, lovely? Who wouldn’t leave you alone?” He asked with a calm tone. Of course he wasn’t. Someone was harassing her. And Harry would fucking take care of it. It boiled his blood to think of someone making her feel less than.

“My ex.” She sniffled again, slowly calming. Harry had that quality, she thinks. “He-He broke up with me for taking the job. Said… said that I was going to be a personal whore for all of you. And not do my job.” She took a shuddery breath. It was embarrassing admitting this to him, but he had been on the receiving end for a meltdown that wasn’t his to fix.

“Well, can I tell you something?” He brought his thumb up to wipe away some of the sticky tears from her cheeks. “You arent. You’re no one’s whore. You’re a respected, talented and intelligent member of our staff. You so happen to be incredibly beautiful, which obviously makes people find you more bewitching… but I know that we all look at you as a professional talent. They may have tried their luck at the beginning but you laid down the law quickly and they all understood.” He whispered.

“Me? I was trying my luck, because you’re incredible. And I think you’re lovely. But that isn’t a conversation for now. Let’s make some tea, hm? Relax. I brought you some cupcakes. I need to properly apologize for being inappropriate to you. Regardless if it was a joke…”

—

He sat next to her on her couch. The poor girl was better now, washing her face and a mug of tea in hand while Harry had helped himself to a vase and put the flowers inside. Carnations. He thought they were pretty, didn’t know the name until Y/N had fawned over them.

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” She said softly, her big sweatshirt swallowing her up. Before Harry could interrupt, she put a finger up. “I know that you were just playing, Harry. I let you flirt with me like that. And I enjoy it.” She could feel herself get warm in the face. “If you’ve noticed, I let you get away with it. I enjoy it. And you didn’t do anything out of line. I was sensitive… I was still raw and I hadn’t had much sleep because he had blown up my phone and regardless he was telling me things he said in person over and over again. So…” Y/N shifted in her seat and used her sweater paws to bring the drink to her lips. “When you came in… I felt guilty for finding you attractive. For liking what you said to me.”

Harry sat for a moment, quiet. So she had liked it…. And felt guilty. Now knowing the context? It made sense. For the life of him he was trying not to hold in to the fact that she enjoyed it, but he couldn’t. It made him excited.

“Okay. That makes sense. Usually.. I do a better job at reading your physical cues. Sometimes I can see something isn’t the right thing to say because you’re tense already. But I was in my own world cause you were making the pain go away and I felt good. It isn’t an excuse, though.” He gently grabbed her hand once she set down her warm tee, thumbing over the knuckles.

“I felt like such a dick. I still do. You know that? And it isn’t because I’m attracted to you. But it’s because I didn’t think about the position I’m putting you in by flirting.” He moved a little closer. “I would never try and jeopardize your job. I’ve been blinded by my own feelings for a while and I was trying to feel it out but I didn’t think to think it was because someone else or a group of people would look down at you for it.” He frowned.

It was so unfair. They wouldn’t care if he slept with her. But they’d ridicule her for sleeping with him.

“I just want to let you know now as well… I wasn’t trying to come on to you to have a hookup.” He hummed. “The feelings I’ve got are genuine. Alright? They aren’t just too get into your pants. And I never want you to feel as though that’s your only purpose. Ever. You have so much worth, and while I’m positive you don’t need me to tell you that, I want tok anyways.”

He was unreal. She really thinks so. How did a man just… be like him. He was a fan favorite and had charm but behind the scenes he was even better than anything they said.

“Yeah. I think I was afraid. Because… I’m the same, you know?” She shyly admitted. “You’re charming and I didn’t want to admit I let your charm get to me, but it has. It has very much. And I like you. I don’t know what to do about it, but I think it’s only fair I admit it myself as well when you’ve put yourself out on the line.”

Harry’s grin grew, dimples pocketing in his cheeks. She liked him back. His heart was ringing in his ears, the shy little look into her eyes making him want to explode. Fucking adorable girl making him feel such intense emotions…. It was incredible.

Thank god. He thought he was going insane.

“We don’t have to do anything in the sense of our job right now. But since we both know… would you want to explore it? I would say privately. Just get to know each other better. Talk. Hang out. Cook food together… maybe kiss.” He smirked slightly at the end, making her let out a laugh. Her laugh soothed his Damn soul.

“I think I’d like that.”

——

Part II maybe? Who knows

[dessarious]

Guilt and Consequences Pt18

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Isadora Dimakos was generally thought to be a calm person. Everyone who knew her would tell you it took a lot to get her upset and it was almost impossible to make her lose control of herself. Hugging her little sister for the first time in ten years she was about two seconds from committing murder over what had happened to Riley, or Lila. She really needed to ask what she wanted to be called.

“I’m so sorry. I never should have believed them when they told me you didn’t survive. I should have looked into it myself.” She still couldn’t believe the lengths her maternal grandparents had gone to to try and keep everything related to her father out of her life after he died. The only way she’d be talking to them again was through lawyers. “No matter what happens I won’t ever leave you alone with that woman again.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You were still a kid too.” Izzy hugged her sister tighter for a moment before pulling back to look her in the eye.

“I haven’t been for five years now and I never once questioned the story I was told. You deserve better from me.” Riley dropped eye contact to stare over her shoulder. A lot of people wouldn't notice the shift, but she knew how much effort it was for her to look someone in the eye. It was honestly a bit scary how little she’d changed. “Why don’t we go somewhere a little less public so we can talk?”

“I don’t want to talk.” Her eyes shifted to the floor and her shoulders hunched.

“You don’t want to talk or you don’t want to listen?” Riley’s eyes jumped to hers for a moment before going back to the floor as she processed the question. Izzy just waited. She knew that it was harder for her sister to verbalize what she actually wanted instead of what people heard.

“Just talk.”

“Okay. Then I’ll talk and if there’s anything you don’t want to hear you can tell me and I’ll stop. Sound good?” She nodded but she was still staring at the floor. So something was still wrong but not with what she said. “Do you want someone else there too?” There it was, full eye contact. Izzy looked up to Sabine.

“Lila, why don’t you go up and grab Mari. We’ll grab some food and be up in a minute.” It physically hurt to watch her just turn and walk out. She still reacted to everything like it was a command. Granted part if it was Sabine’s tone, but most of it was conditioning by her mother to not question anything. She had so much damage to undo. “You’re really good with her.”

“Someone had to pay attention and it wasn’t going to be them.” She took a deep breath when she realized how bitter she sounded. She couldn’t talk like that around Riley. Not if she wanted to let her make up her own mind about everything. “It might not be a great idea to have your daughter there for this conversation. I have to tell Riley some things that are more than a little upsetting.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” While she was happy someone was protective over sister, she didn’t need a lecture.

“She deserves to know the truth. She deserves to know exactly how dangerous it is for her to stay with that woman. Especially now that my Grandparents know I found out she’s alive.” She shouldn’t have confronted them but she hadn’t known exactly how much trouble it would cause. One more mistake in a life full of them. “She’s smart and she can look at things more objectively than any of us if given the chance.”  

“You can’t be sure of that. You haven’t seen her in ten years.” God she hated that tone. It was the same one her Grandparents used when they thought she was being an idiot. Which was pretty much all the time.

“And she hasn’t changed at all in those ten years. It’s honestly depressing how much her mother has completely stifled her growth.” She didn’t expect the woman to aid her in any way but it was obvious that she’d done so much worse. “Do you know what it was you said to me that made me actually hope you really had my sister here?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with-”

“It was when you said she remembered calling me Teddy.” She couldn’t stop the wistful smile that came over her face. “She figured out how to get out of her crib when she was eighteen months old and would always come to sleep with me. About six months before the fire her mother suddenly decided that was unacceptable and got on our father to get her to sleep in her own room. He tried everything he could think of including a stuffed bear that was bigger than he was. It was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. He told her that it would protect her at night and keep all the bad things away. Riley got all thoughtful and quiet and he thought he’d finally managed it. The next morning she was back in my room with me. When he asked her about it she said that anyone that was really dangerous would know the bear wasn’t real, but my snoring would frighten away anything that got close so I was a much better Teddy.”

“It’s a cute story but I still don’t see your point.”

“Even at four years old she reasoned through the problem and came up with a logical decision. Treating her like a child will only deprive her of the right to choose her own path. She’s already had enough taken from her, I won’t do that.” Sabine was studying her again but Izzy stood her ground. She wasn’t about to fail her sister again.

“If she gets uncomfortable and doesn’t want to listen anymore?”

“Then I’ll stop. She’s already agreed to let you get her away from her mother and so long as she doesn’t change her mind the rest could technically wait. At the same time she’s blaming herself for things that she had no part in and she needs to understand that she’s not the one at fault.”

“Seems like she’s not the only one.” Izzy could only let out a huff.

“Yeah well, I’m the oldest. It’s kind of in the job description.”

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Ko-Fi

Tag List

@readeracctagmepls @aestheticnpoetic @akana-sama @schrodingers25 @runestarchild @paradoxal-occurance @heaven428 @animegirlweeb @deepestobservationwombat @iggy-of-fans @yin-390 @thehufflepuffranger-blog @trippingovermyfeet @misslenamooney @ladybug-182 @zalladane @pale-lady-dreamer @smolplantmum @peachedpocky @bezzy-d @naoryllis @sassakitty @18-fandoms-unite-08 @toodaloo-kangaroo

[dreamii-yume]

IF YOU WRITE FOR GENSHIN I CAN DIE HAPPY 💖💖💖

THE DARLINGS HAVE SPOKEN. You are the representative.

...Testing...the waters of Genshin Impact..._:('ཀ'」 ∠): Might as well try it on the character that gets lewd less in this fandom lol

I welcome you, Dear Darlings, a Genshin Impact Sinfic written by someone who doesn't play or know anything about the game. I'm just really hornii.

♥︎♥︎ CHONGYUN ♥︎♥︎

♥︎ WARNINGS ♥︎

Yandere | Non-Con | Unhealthy Relationships | Angst | Depictions of Violence

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Darling wanted to be the best friend that Chongyun could ever have, but even someone as kind as her have their own limitations...Too bad she herself didn't know that until it was all too late.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

The first time it happened, it was an accident and quite frankly...It was your fault.

You already built a fairly decent friendship with the blue-haired exorcist ever since he came up to you, inquiring about evil spirits and such. At first you thought he was just another mischievous kid trying to pull a prank on you, but it soon became apparent to you of how serious he really was. He didn't look like he's someone who can lie about something like this either, with a such straight face nonetheless.

So, you gave me him honest answers about what you know, apologizing when he looked disappointed about it. Maybe it was early at that time where you've already grown a soft spot for the exorcist, lifting his spirits up by suggesting him a place that could very well be a hive of evil spirits. After all, even if you were nothing but a mere residence of Liyue, you were still confident of your knowledge when it comes the nation's different wonders.

...But of course, every other place you've accompanied him to had the same story as the others and thus, no evil spirits were around…Or at least, no evil spirits were around by the time the two of you got there. However, borne out of that journey was a new-found friendship between you and Chongyun, so it wasn't entirely out of naught.

When a bunch of hilichurls appeared out of nowhere coming in to attack the both of you, you were left astonished as the exorcist immediately came diving onto danger himself. With such a huge and heavy weapon, he strikes down his opponents in the most elegant of movements you've ever seen. His Cryo Vision aided him within every attack, giving you a slight attraction in the process and a cool, refreshing breeze drifted against the wind. Suffice to say, you were more than impressed and thanked him whole-heartedly, unconsciously taking his hand against yours out of excitement.

Recalling back, that was the first time you've seen him actively avoiding the trigger for his condition. He retracted his hands away from you, not in rude kind of way but in a genuinely concerned manner. That's when he explained his rare constitution, about his congenital positivity and how this excessive positive yang energy he speaks of can affect him and everything else around him. He told you about what he's not allowed to have or feel; Anything that accumulates heat and strong emotions, even intense thoughts alone are flying triggers.

It was your first time hearing such a condition, so you couldn't say that you understand it very well. But if it was something that he was actively warning you about, you were willing to go with what you understand for now and respected his wishes...Looking back at it now, you wished you could've been more straight-forward and asked him to elaborate even further. Maybe then, you would've had avoided a mistake that would ultimately lead you to an undesirable future.

That future didn't happen until a few months later as you kept contact with Chongyun and often found yourself enjoying spending time with him. Having been born into a simple family yourself, you weren't exactly the adventure type of person. Fighting wasn't in your blood, and you aren't very adept with any weapons, you're embarrassed to even say that you aren't very physically active like most people your age. Adventuring with lacking skills in the great depths of Liyue Harbor, let alone in Teyvat is practically a death wish that you wouldn't want to make. You were just someone who prefers to stay inside and live your life as it is, until Chongyun came in and sparked that sense of curiosity within you.

It was selfish, but perhaps it may be because you were with someone who was chosen by one of the seven Archons, someone who holds the abilities of a protector that you feel a sense of security with. You were finally able to explore the secrets of your nation without having to fear for an ambush or death. But still, as much as it felt nice being able to do such a thing, you couldn't get over at how you were practically using Chongyun's naivety and occupation to go wherever you like. You were essentially taking advantage of his skills, and it just didn't sit right with you...It felt wrong, so you wanted to make up for it at least.

You ended up inviting him to dinner one day, in your very own lovely home to serve him food as a gift. You weren't as talented as the chefs from Wanmin Restaurant in terms of culinary, but you were well enough to put a smile on people's faces. "Ah, but surely you know how my services are free of charges? Compensation is not needed; I only do what I must." You remembered Chongyun refusing your offer at first, his humble self had strike to you as sweet and innocent, but you persisted.

"Then, think of it as a treat from a friend if you will." You kept on insisting, not allowing him to go without even considering your suggestion. A few more convincing later, Chongyun's impeccable resistance finally crumbled down and with a sigh, accepted your tempting offer.

Of course, you made sure to keep his personal body condition at mind, making sure to avoid using ingredients that could harm him physically and mentally. But at this point, you weren't aware of the full extent of what congenital positivity can offer nor realized how serious it really is. You kept obvious ingredients at bay, but naively kept the ones that looked insignificant enough to not be a trigger.

Who knew a sprinkle of grounded black pepper can lead you in such a situation?

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Spice~?

I was reading @cinnamonest 's Genshin Dicc Headcanons (Chongyun's Yandere Profile in general too (OwO) ) and found myself thinking, huh...Chongyun sounds like he has a really cold dicc and thus, this NASTY was born.

[kurohoely]

mask (sakusa x y/n)

What happens when Sakusa realizes masks are better off than on?

genre: hurt/comfort, sakusa is in time skip!

wc: 2.2k

It was known that Sakusa is reserved, he only shows his most relaxed self to those who he trusts, which includes you. He can show those random, whacky emotions, teasing you and giving some gen z emojis but being open and vulnerable? That’s just not him.

You have been dating him for almost a few months now and a lot of people were surprised that you both actually worked out. The dynamic you both have was something people often quote as ‘not compatible’. You knew him before since you both have few classes together in college but who would’ve thought from those unintentional crossings lead you here. Sakusa’s character is pretty obvious and you kind of get it by now how he works and acts but was there any difference between before and now? Why does it feel like the walls are kept up, and builds higher than before?

You tried to initiate a lot of things. He does too but he was indeed more awkward, baby steps as you call it. Despite all that, you appreciate him, all the things he did were definitely out of his comfort zone. You kept saying to yourself that he's trying, remembering that he was the one that confessed first. You hold onto that memory in hope that it will be dynamic throughout the relationship.

But how about right now? With the new season up and running, you kept seeing less and less of him. Countless lonely dinners and cold bedsheets. Rescheduled dates and missing out on one another. You almost excused Sakusa for forgetting your anniversary, thinking it was a given. You signed up to be with someone that has no constant rhythm in their life, always the next big thing to keep their lives afloat. Again, you put on another layer, masking away, reasoning to yourself that things will work out. You don't want to bother him, let alone be the reason why he is stressing out. Patience has always been a good nature of you but sometimes, you question if you should stop being selfless and start being selfish. He is your boyfriend after all.

Sakusa noticed the subtle changes that happened. He felt that you were perfect. Too perfect, as a matter of fact. He wanted to sit down and try to understand why and where this was coming from because he definitely didn't confess to you for perfection. He wanted you. Not any other version. Pure and transparent. No mask. But as much as he wanted to, it is still out of his nature, and with the season starting, it will be quite some time before he can bring this again.

Mid through the season, work is piling up, matches are getting tougher each time they win. That’s a given. You came to almost all of his games and have them recorded on tv. Whatever the outcome, you will always be proud of him. He was basking in his prime condition; you were there for him and his plays were getting synchronized with the team at a rate that even the coach was surprised. He left the thought at the back of his mind, focusing on what he has to do first. After each match, you both have this little ritual, spending some alone time together starting with dinner as both of your schedules sometimes don't overlap quite nicely. Sakusa told you about his plays as if you weren’t there to witness it all and you can’t blame him. You love seeing the sparkle in his eyes when he talks about how good it felt when spiking. The conversation flows naturally and you both talked about how your days went. You were both walking diaries of each other. Not until Sakusa flipped a page that has been long overdue.

He cussed himself to have the audacity to forget about this issue. He doesn’t like this. It was as if he’s taking advantage of your facade, your mask. Even though Sakusa tells you many times that you need to wear one physically, this was something that he wished to be stripped off completely. He hates it. He hates that he can't be a safe space for you. Someone you can let yourself breathe from the suffocating expectations from the outside world. But what he hates the most is that you changed yourself to accommodate his own ignorance.

Sakusa flipped his match schedule. It looks like there won't be another match in 5 days. He called Meian and Iwaizumi if it’s okay if he takes a few days off from practice. Both of them were surprised that Sakusa would even ask for a day off but they agreed anyway. He’s not the type to ask for one so this must be something really important.

Saturday shifts are hard. You only have one day of rest before hustling again on Monday but oh you were SO GLAD that your manager said that you can have a paid leave on Monday after helping out on a side project for some other team.

You pushed your shared apartment door, dragging your feet inside. You saw Sakusa peek his head from the kitchen. He took off his apron and walked to you, grabbing your bags from the floor and giving a peck on your cheek. You went to the bedroom and saw the bath bomb that you bought impulsively on your previous date. A bath sounds nice, you thought to yourself.

Filling up the bath to a slightly hotter temperature, a much-needed one to shake that fatigue out from your body and start your long weekend with a fresher body. Gently dipping your toes, you hold the sides and lower yourself in, letting the heat seep into your skin. As you were shuffling your position, a knock on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?”

“Doors unlocked so yeah baby come in”

Sakusa twisted the knob, letting himself in. He sat on the floor next to the tub, a rare sight for Sakusa and you. He folded his arms on the dry part of the tub and stared into your eyes. Losing himself in your mind, finding where he actually belongs. He knows this isn’t the right time, not even a good one, to bring up this matter but it has been pushed back for too long, he couldn’t care less about what setting it was in right now. You were always firm on your stands, confronting those to have the middle ground in everything but now, it was as if he’s with someone else.

“Hey sunshine, how's the bath”

You flushed at the pet name he called you. When was the last time you heard that softness, that warmth? The sense of home and belonging to another person, solely wanting to give your whole life away in exchange for his.

“It's pretty nice. Do you wanna join in?”

“Hmm sounds nice.”

He removes his mask and strips quickly, submerging himself into the tub in front of you. He pressed his muscular, toned back to your chest, taking its warmth into his body. Taking in whatever he could take from you between his skin and yours. Your scent, your heat, your touch, the friction, sensation - everything. He knows he wants everything but how about you? He sometimes thinks that he forced you into the relationship, going above and beyond to go with how he handles things. His fussy attitude when it comes to cleaning, being in crowds, and towards people in general. Whatever the train of thought was, he needs to know, He can’t bear seeing his future bland and monotonous because you were not there. You were his yellow, heck, you were his entire spectrum.

“Hey y/n, I know it's not a good time to ask this but, did I do something that makes you uncomfortable? I know I’m not good with words or being affectionate, doing all those sweet things that you see in movies but the last thing I want you to be is forcing yourself to be something that you are not.

“If there’s anything wrong that I did please tell me I…”.

“No! You did nothing wrong. You were perfect but maybe too perfect. I have this feeling that you weren't being yourself for quite some time. It's like you have this mask that you put on whenever you are with me. I know you are sensitive in nature - both to other people and towards yourself, which is why I fell in love with but aren't relationships supposed to be a two-way thing? I need to know what’s bothering you so please talk to me. I want you to feel safe with me. I want you to be your most comfortable as if both of us are the only ones that are living on this earth. I wish I could come and talk to you sooner about this but I got too caught up in the games. It's my fault. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be braver on confronting things like these. I’ll try to be more attentive to the small things”

Hearing this from Sakusa made your heart burst into so many emotions that were buried for so long. Happy, sad, hopeless, desperation, anger, guilt but most importantly, longing. You could only cry when he finished his last words. You were gasping for air, clawing yourself into Sakusa’s shoulders to grip on whatever you can. Wet streams trickled down Sakusa’s nape, dampening them. Sakusa was flustered as if it was the first time he ever saw you broke down. The first time? Oh God, how much has he been missing in this relationship...

“I’m sorry Omi. I was trying to be understanding. I tried to make this home at least a space where you can have at least some peace. I wanted to be with you more so badly but I know by asking it, you have to take time off or you might just think I'm annoying. And I hate it. Words cut more for me since it is the least effort to bring out but weighs the most. I don't think I can bear with it. So I avoided it. I avoid creating any chances that would lead us to fight. But then, it hit me when you started to slip away, distancing yourself subtly. Our dinner time became shorter, we didn't even cuddle anymore because your muscles were sore and I want them to heal fast so you can play your best. It seems like it backfired huh?”

Sakusa was taken aback due to a lot of things. How he finally was able to hear you say his pet name, the range of small things that you do, putting him as your topmost priority when you yourself are buried down, succumbing to earth more and more. How could he be so blind? It hurts him. It hurts him that you didn't even consider being comfortable with him. It destroys him that all of your actions were threaded with the thoughts of him when he did nothing, even worse, he forgot. Sakusa felt a sting poking through his heart, thin-like rods thrusting through it slowly. He felt a burning sensation that he was sure he didn’t like. If he felt this after hearing all of these, what about you? You’ve been carrying these for weeks, stretching out to months, yet you’re still here. How did he end up with someone as thoughtful and wonderful as you? He turned his body around, facing you. Your legs tangling together, bringing you inside his embrace, pushing your foreheads together. He lets out a breath after his thoughts finally reach a verdict.

“Hey bub, it’s okay. We’re here now. I’m sorry it took my dumbass this long to have this conversation. You don’t know how much you meant to me even though I barely show it. Please know that at least. I love you. I love you so much, too much that I cannot imagine waking up the next day without you. You were the reason I can handle Atsumu’s ass, thinking about if I can go through that part of the day, I can see you again. A little reward from me to myself. I asked for a few days off, shall we do a bit of catching up session?”

A tint of coral pink brushes lightly on top of your cheeks. Seeing Sakusa being all vulnerable and open, is a view that you wish no one will ever see besides you. You smiled and chuckled lightly.

Sakusa's heart swells. There it is. The smile that got him smitten all over. The small chuckle that you made was a symphony to his ears. It was as if at this moment he fell in love again. He found the you that he fell for but even deeper. He swore that day he would never make you feel like this.

You both get out, drying yourself together. Omi blow-dried your hair and you did his. He's pretty good at managing your hair because of his curls. You both did a random 14-step Korean skincare routine and cuddling around watching your favorite movie - Pride and Prejudice. Sakusa never understood why you liked this movie so much but today he finally does. When two lovers placed down their masks and finally faced each other, all became visible. The adoration in one's eyes, longing for the warmth of the other, to finally be together.

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 4)

We are at the turning point so things are about to get super fun! Pretty much everything we've gone over until now has been exposition and set-up for this arc.

More than ever there's a trigger warning here: we'll be discussing mental illness, depression, child abuse, and a genuine suicide attempt here so it will get quite heavy and dark.

Chapter Thirteen

We are approaching a significant turning point. This arc is heavy with things to analyze and important revelations about Natsume. Pretty much all the stuff I analyzed before now was just extended exposition, to be entirely honest. We were setting things up, establishing Natsume in every way we could and it will all come to a head right here. This is the arc we've been waiting for.

The chapter opens with Natsume, and from the start we can tell that we are in for a treat. We’ve never seen his perspective like this, only little snippets like “I know I used my alice on her”, or remembering Aoi’s hair-clip. Here, we have much more to work with, and we don’t have to do as much guesswork to make conclusions!

He’s having a nightmare, which is also what he calls it, much like the one he had in the anime. He’s running in darkness and there’s too many people’s voices. Being called a murderer, being told to obey or else… and all the while he’s telling them to shut up already. It’s enough to make anybody feel crowded. He just wants relief, to get out of the darkness, for the nightmare to end.

Even when he's all alone, he's bogged down by noise and taunts.

He wonders if he'll ever get real reprieve from the constant hell he's in. All he ever does is run, his life entirely enshrouded by darkness. He wants it to stop, and later we'll see how exactly he'll attempt to do so.

The fact that the arc begins with this scene despite the fact that Natsume does not feature heavily in this chapter or the next is foreshadowing that something must change by the end of it. He's despairing and hopeless now, and these points will all be brought up later as things come to a head, so something must shift by the end of the arc.

We later find out Natsume’s in the hospital, and then inevitably he gets kidnapped by Reo. He spends about two chapters unconscious, so we’ll be moving on to two of the most important chapters for Natsume’s development.

Chapter Fifteen

Natsume wakes up in the warehouse, but the way he wakes up is very interesting. He knows he’s in a strange place, not in a hospital bed. He thinks so much like a soldier or spy here, using his senses to observe his scary new surroundings and clinically filing away information until he opens his eyes and sees his classmates gnawing at each other’s binds. It’s fascinating to see inside his head, to see the dangerous ability training in action, that he doesn’t think like his peers would, or how any ten year old should.

He's intaking information, filing it, analyzing his situation, all before his eyes even open.

He is understandably irritated by the presence of his classmates, considering he’s been kidnapped, drugged, sick, and has to deal with an alice barrier on top of all that. He gets that he’s screwed, and, with Mikan and Sumire in the mix, his chances aren’t looking too great.

If you want to make yourself sad, it’s worth noting that Natsume doesn’t think he’s going to make it out of this situation alive. He’s processing his options and considering the best thing to do going forward, but he’s well aware that there’s also a good chance he might die tonight.

They manage to get into contact with Narumi, who instructs them to stall and keep quiet, also telling Natsume to use his alice. He’s strong enough to overpower the barrier, so it shouldn’t be an issue, but Natsume is sick. In order to get a small flame, he exhausts himself, and is even less of a state to run away than he already was. Their kidnappers realize the kids are awake because of the disturbance in the barrier, so they confront them to try and figure out their alices. Reo wants this information for nefarious purposes, planning on selling them. It’s already been said earlier in the story that alice children are more valuable in the human trafficking trade, so it’s in his best interest to know what exactly he’s selling.

Mikan has nullification, so the voice pheromone doesn’t work on her, but Sumire is affected, and about to reveal her alice when Natsume interferes. He’s exhausted, but he might have more or less already given up on himself. The most he can do now is try and protect his classmates who came to save him, even if it’s all he can do. So Reo does move on to confront him, taunting him by telling him all the plans they have for him. He’s to be assimilated into the organization, joining Z and becoming a child soldier for their ranks.

Reo brings up an excellent point: “What difference does it make if you start working for Z instead? Everyone there hates the academy like you do.” It’s true. Natsume might even prefer it slightly because it’s an anti-alice organization and he is by no means pro-academy (unlike in the anime where he becomes a poster boy for abuse apologism). At the academy, he’s surrounded by abusers and those subservient to the abusers, by bullies and kids who whisper behind his back, accusing him of murder and arson. Maybe at Z he could be around like-minded people (albeit people who are supportive of child trafficking).

But no.

Natsume doesn’t even consider it.

Maybe Reo should consider that Natsume doesn't want to be a child soldier at all, hmm?? Maybe he'd be better off just being a normal kid? Did that occur to him at all or...?

He immediately smacks Reo’s hand away. Even sick, even heavily under the effects of Reo’s alice, even despite being weak and drugged, he still resists. There’s not even a temptation or hesitation. His choice has been made for him.

Interestingly, Reo was also used by the academy. He knows how twisted the school can be, but he’s still confused and surprised by Natsume’s refusal. I’m assuming based on this that perhaps Natsume is a special case. It would be reasonable to assume most of the kids used in the dangerous ability class are threatened and cowed into obedience, their physical and mental safety in jeopardy if they rebel in any way. Natsume is a child, and we’ve seen him run from his own teacher in abject terror. He’s obviously not a fan of putting himself in physical and mental jeopardy. But the way to get to Natsume is not by threatening him; it’s by threatening Ruka, or Aoi, or Youichi, because Natsume doesn’t care about anything as much as he cares about them--not even his own life.

And that’s why Reo is surprised and confused that Natsume would say no to him and choose the academy over Z.

And it’s because Natsume is not actually choosing the academy over Z. He’s choosing Ruka and Aoi over Z, like he chooses them over everything. Natsume knows that resisting Z here is tantamount to suicide, but he’ll choose that, because he’ll choose his loved ones over his own life.

And then something surprising happens: Mikan gets in between Natsume and Reo, protecting Natsume.

This is new; Natsume is used to being the one doing the protecting. He was more than willing to take all Reo’s wrath to distract him from using his pheromones on Mikan and Sumire. He’s being protected now though, a little, but it’s really just a taste of what’s to come. Mikan stepping in is unexpected… and unwise.

Now Reo can conclude that she has the nullification alice. This is bad news in general, but a great opportunity. Reo and his goons are distracted and there’s enough time for Sumire to use her own alice and see where they are and what’s around.

Turns out there’s dynamite and other explosives a couple warehouses away. This instantly gets Natsume’s attention and he’s already formulating a plan.

He tells them to run for it, reassuring them that he can take care of himself. He says he’s only helping because he’d feel guilty otherwise, not because he actually cares much for what happens to them, because it’s their own fault they followed him.

We know this isn’t the truth. Since he woke up, Natsume has been prioritizing the girls over himself.

He can hardly stand up so the idea that he can escape on his own is a little ridiculous... but he knows that too and he's known it from the start.

The escape begins and the girls run for it, with Natsume distracting Reo and his goons by threatening to blow up the dynamite two warehouses away.

This is a genuine suicide attempt. Natsume has no intention to save himself. He considers himself a lost cause. He’s sick, exhausted, in no condition to run. He can stall long enough to let the girls escape, but he’s gonna blow up the dynamite, taking Reo and part of Z down with him. Reo’s kidnapping whim will prove fatal and catastrophic, and the Black Cat will be eliminated.

Chapter Sixteen

This arc turns so much darker.

Yes, Natsume seems to have no choice but to kill himself to protect his classmates and eliminate the Reo threat. The first page of Chapter Sixteen also establishes that this isn’t just Natsume’s own plan. He’s been commanded to commit suicide in this kind of situation by Persona. If he’s ever trapped and can’t escape, he’s to kill himself, so that he can’t be used against the academy. He’s too powerful. The academy would rather this child die than fall into Z’s hands. In fact, if Natsume were to rebel, in any way, even by not killing himself in such a situation, the academy will hurt the people he cares about.

This is a grown ass man telling a child that his life is only important if he can be a tool for the school and as soon as he can't be anymore, he ceases to have value and is better off dead.

I will once again mention that Natsume is ten years old. The academy is not just an abusive institution, it’s also a human rights violator, since child soldiers are prohibited by international law. A child soldier is any child under the age of 18 who is compelled to fight or otherwise service any state or non-state armed group (the academy counts as an armed group because it has a division of child soldiers with magical powers ready to kill and maim on command as well as teachers with magical powers willing to threaten these children into submission). Natsume is a child soldier and the fact that the dangerous ability class was never fully dissolved is an actual human rights violation.

Anyway, this arc is where we see Natsume clearly for the first time. Compared to all the fun and mischief of previous chapters, these chapters are dark and scary. There’s no exciting dodgeball game or howalon-related antics. This is life-or-death, suicide attempts, threats.

This marks the difference between the life the rest of the kids at the academy are living and the life Natsume has been struggling through. How do you live through missions like this, watching your life whittle away, being threatened on a regular basis, and then go back to school and pretend to care about math or about sports or friends? It makes perfect sense that Natsume would feel so isolated from everyone. His experiences are too different.

Of course, this whole thing is about to get a whole lot worse.

Reo asks why Natsume would even bother with this. Is there even a reason? He even gives a pretty good deal: If Natsume backs down, Sumire and Mikan will be spared.

But Natsume doesn’t bite. He’s ready to die, because the academy told him to, because he wants to protect his loved ones, because he wants to help Sumire and Mikan escape, and--most heart-breakingly--because he genuinely wants to die.

Now that Sumire and Mikan are gone, he doesn't have to lie about his plans anymore.

Natsume has been appearing in the last sixteen chapters, showing up to offer a sarcastic quip, set something on fire, and be generally unpleasant. But more than that, we’ve seen glimpses into what appears to be a horrible, miserable life. Natsume hates the academy, only has one friend, goes on life-threatening missions, frequently visits the hospital, despises his own alice, and he never smiles. All his appearances up to this point have been an explanation: this is why Natsume wants to kill himself.

Natsume isn’t just forced into a suicide attempt. There’s a reason he submits so easily to the idea of dying here. He’s ready. He’s been ready for a long time. He might have even been waiting for it; to get it over with because it’s bound to happen sooner or later.

He says he feels like he’s living his life cowering on his knees, like his head is constantly under a pool of shame. “I’m sick of the academy. I’m sick of you all. I’m sick of everything!”

Natsume is going to die in a few moments and he’s okay with it. He’s even happy about it, because there is really nothing worth living for. He doesn’t have a future, or hopes and dreams. This whole time he has been living for Ruka and his family, doing everything he can to keep them safe. Nothing he’s done in the past two years has been for himself. This may be the very first selfish thing he has done in all this time. He’s ready to die.

It’s not like he had something to look forward to anyway.

Natsume is about to die, until the wind is knocked out of him and he’s suddenly on the ground, with Mikan grabbing his shirt and screaming into his face that he’s an idiot. He’s lying on the floor because one of his stupid classmates--the one he hates the most, the stupid girl with the nullification alice and her head so full of rainbows and butterflies and happiness he could barf just thinking about her, the one that walked right into the worst thing that ever happened to him and smiled about it--tackled him and stopped his suicide attempt.

Just one split second changes everything and there's nothing he can do about it.

Yes, the previous chapters leading up to this explained why Natsume wants to die, and how miserable his life is, but they also mark another thing: the only fifteen and a half chapters where Natsume isn’t in love with Mikan.

In this moment, she saves his life. She risks her own safety on a whim to protect him, and she does. She didn’t come all this way for nothing! She’s willing to fight Reo and any henchmen to protect Natsume, who can’t even walk without help. Natsume was not expecting this.

He asks why she even came back, but she makes it clear it wasn’t a choice--they’re partners, after all! It’s her job to look after him.

The next few scenes are Mikan protecting Natsume, and it’s important to point out that nobody has ever done that before. Natsume is always the one doing the sacrificing and protecting, and he’s okay with that. He doesn’t want Ruka to be burdened by his hardships, or for Aoi to be held responsible for something she did under a dangerous fever. He will do the hard thing, will be the caretaker, because that’s who he’s always been.

It might be uncomfortable and strange for him, but Natsume is being taken care of here, led to hiding spots and being protected. When he tries again to convince her to leave him behind, he’s using all the insults he can think of. This is another way of protecting people: hurting them so that he can further distance himself from them and keep them safe.

But Mikan fights back, saying, “Who do you think I came back for?”

Here Natsume finally understands something. The girl he has hated ever since she voluntarily enrolled into the school that uses him as a human weapon is more than a bumbling idiot. Her sickening optimism and determination are the reason he’s still alive now. He gave up on himself, but she refuses to. She’s the kind of person who would risk her own life to save a boy who has caused her nothing but grief, because she can see value in his existence that he can’t.

Natsume's never thought of himself as even having a future before, let alone a happy one.

And she says, “Everyone is waiting for you.” Natsume used to look down on her optimism and rose-colored lenses, because how naive is it to think things will just work themselves out? That the future will be better? That there’s something worth working for, even if you aren’t sure what it is? It’s stupid. Natsume knows better: life sucks and then you die because you get kidnapped and you have to commit suicide or else your loved ones will get hurt. Relying on stupid things like positivity or hope is just a waste of time.

But not this time. This girl is saving him because there’s a bright future awaiting her, but more than that: she sees a bright future for him too. She thinks things will work out for him too, that he has moments to look forward to where he will laugh and cry and live--moments he hasn’t seen yet. There’s still so much life left for him to live, and he’s never thought of it that way.

For the first time in a long time, Natsume is thinking about his own future.

He doesn’t argue when Mikan stands up to protect him, or when she grabs his hand to try and lead him from danger. He trusts her now and even more, he wants to live.

And then Mikan gets overpowered by a goon, who slams her into the wall in order to get to Natsume.

And that pushes Natsume’s berserk button, because now he cares about Mikan, and he goes absolutely unhinged whenever someone he cares about is hurt.

Mikan has become precious to Natsume only a few minutes ago, but he's kinda ride-or-die so it's like going from 0 to 100.

Just a few chapters ago, a middle-schooler grabbed Mikan and threatened to hurt her if Natsume didn’t back down and Natsume just laughed. Now he’s detonating a whole shipyard because somebody shoved her.

Yes, he does set off the dynamite, because he’s no longer thinking rationally and how dare someone hurt Mikan?

We’re not really sure what consequences this had, if he ended up inadvertently hurting himself or Mikan in the process of getting revenge against this man for hurting a girl who he just started having feelings for like five minutes ago, but both of them end up hospitalized.

Conclusion

This whole arc is a fucking MASTERPIECE. We’ve met Natsume before, but that was the old Natsume. That Natsume was miserable and didn’t have anything to look forward to. We’ve just met a new Natsume; a Natsume who has hopes and desires and will do selfish things because of them. His life is still dark and dreary and miserable, but there’s a light coming in now, and he’s content now just to be in the sun for a little bit until his life comes to a complete end, which will still be sooner than later.

<- Previous Next ->

[bailey-reaper]

Hello! May I request Barok finding out his S/O is injured? Like they tried really hard to hide it from him, maybe because they were attacked and they don't want him to worry (P.S Thank you so much for this blog, you're a fantastic writer!)

Who hath dared to wound thee!?

Notes: (yes the title is an Oscar Wilde reference...)

Hiya Anon, you may indeed request this and thank you for such a lovely comment! I'm so glad you enjoy the blog and the stuff I write.

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: angst; ref to physical harm; expressions of worry / anger; knife mention

If there's one thing Barok has a keen eye for, it's signs of injury and the ways in which others might try to conceal them. After all, he has a great deal of experience on the subject having sustained a number of wounds over the course of his life and attempting to conceal them both from his brother (so he wouldn't worry) and the world at large.

For him, it had been a survival instinct: if others saw him wounded, then he would be seen as 'easy prey' and attacked all the more; or, they would fret needlessly about his condition and try to stop him from carrying on with his life.

So, when he sees his beloved starting to show some of the very slight tells that he himself had been conscious to avoid... he's worried. And yet, when he asks, they assure him they're fine. He wonders if perhaps he's overreacting, or maybe even projecting his own past on them.

The last thing he wants to do is be cloying, but, what if they have been hurt? That would be utterly unacceptable to him.

For a while, he tries to give them the benefit of the doubt and assumes his gut reaction is wrong-- until, it happens again and this time they seem to struggle with keeping whatever is wrong concealed. They tense when getting up; wince when stretching and generally seem to be in a great deal of pain.

"What happened?" he asks one evening when they're sitting together in the drawing room; his voice is soft and full of genuine concern.

They're thrown by the unexpected question and the deep tinge of concern in Barok's voice, "It's... nothing," they start.

But he's not having any of it, "Please. I don't believe that for an instant. You've been in pain for several days. I know what that feels like, and I know how it manifests. I just want to know what happened..."

It's clear they aren't getting out of it this time – Barok knows how to pursue a line of inquiry, and he's already pointed out that he knows full well something has happened based on the way they've been carrying themselves.

"...I just... had a little run in with some thugs," they're at pains to downplay it, because they know he's going to be worried.

And they're right, he is, "What do you mean 'a little run in'?! What happened?! What did they do to you?!" it's clear this news is distressing for him, and he's internally blaming himself – were they hurt because of him? To get revenge for some crime lord being prosecuted? He'd been careful to keep them out of the public eye, but criminals were resourceful worms. Perhaps they'd seen the two of them together...

With a soft sight, they adjust their clothes and show him the bandaged wound on their right shoulder; the wrappings are fresh, and blood is already starting to leak through given that it's such an awkward place to have a wound, "...Truth be told, I don't know what their motive was," they confess, "It might have been my work or it might have been my associations. They didn't say, they just took their opportunity. I managed to escape with just this, and I consider myself lucky for that."

It was indeed a stroke of luck that they weren't harmed further but it's of little consolation to Barok, who would prefer that they weren't harmed in any manner, "How did they do this to you?" he asks while looking at the wound.

"A knife," they say, "I was turning into an alley when an assailant leapt at me from the side and stabbed my shoulder... I managed to fend them off and fled as quick as I could to the nearby hospital. Thankfully they said it didn't seem to be a deep wound, so it shouldn't cause any lasting tendon damage... it'll just take time to close because .... well I can't help moving my shoulder."

Barok frowns, "....Please don't ever hide such things from me again...." he was starting to understand why Klint had been so angry with him when the wounds he suffered were discovered, "I don't want you to face such unpleasant things all alone."

"I just... didn't want you to worry, I figured you'd blame yourself and feel guilt over something that is not your fault. The criminals are the ones to blame, not you or I or anyone else."

"... Alright... I shall try, but only if you trust me with such things from now on."

"...." they nod, "I shall try, too, but you have to promise you won't follow me around every where from the shadows."

"......... You really do see through me don't you?"

"As if you were made of glass."

He chuckles and draws them into his arms, cradling them close; quietly relieved that they were at least alive and seemed to be in good spirits. It was a small blessing, but he would count it gratefully.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

- Chapter 10 -

Nie Mingjue was starting to become accustomed to the routine of the cell.

Wen Ruohan would generally visit the Fire Palace twice weekly, sometimes more if he had had a very bad day and wanted to let off some steam. Nie Mingjue would get visited on at least one of those instances, whether for a short time and a bit of emotional devastation or for a longer and much more physically uncomfortable visit, and sometimes more often if Wen Ruohan was not doing well in war.

Wen Ruohan still enjoyed asking him questions, but Nie Mingjue didn’t think he had to answer them anymore. This was a subject that came up sometimes during some of those longer visits.

The rest of the time, he was left to recover and be bored. He was not given access to his saber – Baxia had been hidden away somewhere, he thought, he could feel that she was safe if unhappy – but his spiritual energy was not restrained, the way some other prisoners were.

He spent a great deal of time meditating. Sometimes, if his physical condition allowed for it, he would practice old techniques, trying to focus on a different muscle each time to try to avoid letting them atrophy. His empty hands bothered him, but he deemed it unlikely that anyone would give him equivalent to a saber something to wield, not even if he asked.

Food was twice a day, usually just a bowl of rice and vegetables that the kitchen would otherwise have thrown away, and it was brought by the same prison guard each time.

Nie Mingjue liked the prison guard.

Possibly it was because he was the only person Nie Mingjue saw on a regular basis, other than Wen Ruohan – Nie Mingjue’s cell was a little ways away from the other prisoners, lest they infect him with something and he die too quickly, although he was still within earshot of all the screams – or possibly it was the prison guard’s pleasant demeanor, friendly and calm like a lake of still water.

They were playing a long-running game of sorts.

Nie Mingjue had guessed that Meng Yao – that was the prison guard’s name – was an outsider, recently joined, and that he had previously spent time in both the Lan and Jin sects.  This perspicacity had surprised Meng Yao, drawing his interest, and he had asked, very politely, for Nie Mingjue’s name.

Nie Mingjue had, just as politely, refused to give it.

Meng Yao, surprised yet again, had asked for his reasons.

Nie Mingjue had explained that he wasn’t sure if Wen Ruohan would react badly to other people knowing about him, and it would be a shame for Meng Yao to be murdered while he had yet to achieve whatever it was that he was seeking so strenuously to accomplish.

For some reason, Meng Yao saw this as a challenge.

“Gongzi, I have your dinner,” Meng Yao said. “Would you like me to ask the cook to give you some meat, next time? Just let me know. I would be more than happy to tell her to send more food to…?”

“Certainly,” Nie Mingjue said. “You can tell her that it’s on behalf of the last cell on the right.”

Meng Yao wrinkled his nose at him, and Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes back.

Their normal initial exchange of wits over, Meng Yao gave him the food and supervised him as he ate – a babysitter upon whose head the consequences would fall if Nie Mingjue misbehaved was the condition of giving him chopsticks. Wen Ruohan had a great deal of experience in keeping prisoners alive, and he knew Nie Mingjue’s character quite well.

“I heard that you were giving Sect Leader Wen advice on the war,” Meng Yao said casually as Nie Mingjue tried to guess what pickled vegetable he was eating, since neither taste nor appearance was definitive. “Gongzi must be very well-respected.”

“Did you hear about the part where I told him the best counterstrike would be to shove his troops up his own ass?”

“…and very brave.”

Nie Mingjue chuckled. “And you must be very competent to have made your way up to prominence in two separate sects, especially at such a young age.”

Meng Yao did not want to like him, Nie Mingjue could tell. He did anyway.

It wouldn’t help him if something more important to Meng Yao was at stake, of course – Nie Mingjue had lived too long with Qishan Wen cruelty, selfishness, and ruthlessness to miss seeing it reflected in others – but it was still nice to be liked.

“…how do you know?”

“Was that a direct question?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Be still my heart.”

“This humble servant has observed that gongzi does not answer anything else.”

“Humble,” Nie Mingjue drawled. “Yes, that’s the first thing I think of when I think of you.”

Meng Yao’s eyes were narrowing, though, so he stopped teasing.

“It’s your hair.”

“My – hair?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “The way you set it. It’s clear that Xichen must have taught you how to arrange the braids personally, which means that you must have gotten fairly high up in the Lan sect – but Sect Leader Wen referred to you as being poached from the Jin sect.”

Meng Yao reached up touch his hair. “…I never made it that high in the Jin sect,” he finally said. “Not even lieutenant.”

“In the middle of a war, with how competent you are? Does Sect Leader Jin have something against you?” A small furrowing of Meng Yao’s brow. “Did you complain that he raped your sister or something?”

A long, slow blink. “Is that a problem he has?”

“Not liking people who try to make him responsible for his actions?” Nie Mingjue snorted. “Yes.”

Meng Yao looked contemplative.

“What are you thinking?” Nie Mingjue asked, finally giving up on the pickled vegetable and handing back the bowl.

“Only that you know a great deal of gossip –”

“Involuntarily, I assure you.”

“– and that you feel comfortable calling Lan-da-gongzi by name, and are familiar enough to know how he personally styles his hair.” Meng Yao smiled. “I’ll figure out who you are yet, gongzi.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “They’ve probably already forgotten me.”

-

“This is your fault,” Wen Ruohan murmured in his ear, and Nie Mingjue was too weak to refuse to listen. “You did this – to yourself, to them. Why couldn’t you have just been obedient?”

He didn’t know anymore.

-

“I’m Sect Leader Jin’s son,” Meng Yao said.

“Your mother must be a genius,” Nie Mingjue replied.

There was a moment of silence – probably Meng Yao staring at him.

It was probably not the response he had been expecting.

“I’ve met Sect Leader Jin,” Nie Mingjue said in explanation. He was lying face-down on the floor of the cell while Meng Yao tended to his wounds; the conversation, he knew, was only to distract him from the sting of the stitches. “He’s cunning, not smart, horribly self-absorbed, and ‘competent’ isn’t the word I’d use for him; he makes do mostly by paying enough to hire good help. Given the contrast with you, it follows that you must have gotten all the good traits from the other side…I hope he didn’t rape her. Sorry about making that joke, earlier. I didn’t realize.”

“You said sister, not mother.”

“Right,” Nie Mingjue said. “I forgot.”

“Anyway, he didn’t have to rape her. He bought her,” Meng Yao said. He was tightening the bandages now and his hands were perfectly steady. Too steady, the way Wen Qing’s were when she was having to control himself. “She was a whore.”

Nie Mingjue got the feeling that Meng Yao was expecting some sort of reaction. He wasn’t sure what, though.

“Okay,” he said. Out of lack of anything better to say, he added, “Was she nice?”

“What type of question is that?” Meng Yao demanded.

He’d picked the wrong reaction again, Nie Mingjue presumed.

“I don’t know,” he said. His eyes were closed and his forehead was pressed against the cool stone. “I don’t really remember my mother. All I know is that she was a rogue cultivator, and tall –”

“I would never have guessed the latter, gongzi.”

“Yeah, yeah. Like I’ve never heard that one before. My father raised me on his own – we don’t believe in using nursemaids to do it.” He exhaled. “I’m forgetting him, too.”

“He died?”

“Sect Leader Wen killed him.” He heard Meng Yao exhale. “I know. I’m not very filial, am I?”

“I don’t think that’s a consideration,” Meng Yao murmured. “Under the circumstances.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t want to talk about it. “So, your mother,” he said. “Was she nice?”

“…does it matter?”

“Why wouldn’t it matter? She’s your mother, isn’t she?”

Meng Yao chuckled. It was not a nice sound. “Most people don’t really care to listen past the part where they find out she’s a whore.”

“I’ve never actually met a whore,” Nie Mingjue confessed. He was starting to drift off again – it was hard to stay awake. “The closest I ever got to even talking about one was when we had to put the fear of brothels into A-Chao. Sect Leader Wen was trying to ruin him.”

“A-Chao?”

“Mm. Like – a little brother, almost. I’ve got a bunch.”

Meng Yao snickered. “Yes, gongzi does seem the type.”

Nie Mingjue smiled into the floor. He knew that tone – it was just the same as A-Chao’s, in fact. “You’re welcome to join in, if you like.”

Meng Yao’s hands stopped moving abruptly.

“Assuming I’m not dead, of course.”

After a moment, Meng Yao’s hands started moving again. They were gentler.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “After a promise like that, I’ll be sure not to let him kill you.”

“Need to get your money’s worth out of me?”

“Of course.” A pause. “Naturally, it would be easier if gongzi would tell me his name…”

Nie Mingjue huffed – like Meng Yao was going to get him that easily.

“No need for such formality, A-Yao,” he said. “Just call me da-ge.”

-

“You must have some hobbies.”

“Must I?”

“Everyone has hobbies.”

“I collect younger siblings. Does that count?”

“It does not.”

-

“It’s your fault,” Wen Ruohan crooned as Nie Mingjue’s shrieks split the air. “Your fault. You turned them against me. It’s because of you that I’m going to need to kill them…”

-

“I don’t think I would have liked you, in the normal course of things,” Meng Yao said conversationally. “I usually find righteous people boring. Most of the time, they’re arrogant hypocrites, as rigid like the stiff pole that must have gotten shoved up their asses at some point. No one looks down on you like the righteous, and usually for stupid reasons, too. For something as petty and as simple as just not being them. Not having their advantages from the moment you were born.”

He paused. Cleared his throat.

“Lan Xichen was the first one I met who wasn’t like that. He really – he’s nice, I think you would put it. Kind. Everything they say about what gentlemen ought to be, he is.”

A brief silence.

“Naïve, though. Almost painfully so. I twisted him around my little finger without even trying…even when I was trying not to.”

Nie Mingjue believed him. Manipulation seemed to come as second nature to Meng Yao, even when he was being sincere. Sometimes, even especially when he was being sincere.

It was a bit like Wen Xu, actually. It was hard to throw off the way you’d been raised.

“At first I thought the problem was with me, that I didn’t appreciate him enough, that I didn’t understand how to have a friendship with a person like that. A good one. Sometimes I thought, well, no, maybe the problem’s with him – he pities me too much to see what I’m really like, and that means he’s deceiving himself, it’s got nothing to do with me. In the end…I don’t know. I don’t think I ever resolved it.”

He sighed. It was a long, low sound, almost whistling in the dead air of the Fire Palace.

“You’re not like Lan Xichen at all. You really are unbending, rigid, inexorable…I ought to despise you. You ought to despise me. I torture people most of the day, you know. I even enjoy it.”

For all his poise, Meng Yao was younger even than Lan Xichen. He shouldn’t be anyone’s prison guard. Shouldn’t be torturing anyone. How could you blame children for doing something that would win them praise?

“It’s this place that makes me like you, I think. It’s just – it’s filthy, here. Disgusting. The more I’m in this prison the worse it gets. The more bad things I do, the more bad things I think. I barely dare recall my better memories, my mother, Lan Xichen. I’m too afraid that the filth and grime of this place will stain their purity even in my thoughts.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand, not really - maybe he’d been here so long that the stain had sunk in already, blackening everything it touched. But he tried as much as he could to sympathize.

“And then there’s you. You, all shining steel and stiff unbending morality, the sort of person I hate the most. But when I’m here knee-deep in the muck, trapped in the dark without any hope of surfacing, I look at you and I feel – it’s almost like I can see light again, reflected in you. As if I’m breathing clean air. For the first time in my life, I think I understand why people have ethics. That they’re not some stupid thing made up by someone to fool someone else into voluntarily crippling the hand they’ve been dealt to play.”

That was definitely not what ethics were.

“I don’t know if we’d get along outside this place. Where I’m still me, with all my flaws that make me all the worse, and you’re still you, with all your imperfections that only make you better, but without this place to make us get along. I really don’t know. For once in my life, I don’t have a goal, a target, a scheme. As far as I know, you’re nobody I can use, and keeping you close to me will only tie an anchor to my legs, weigh me down. But even with all that, even if nothing I do works out and it all blows up in my face…I’d still like to find out. Find out if we would get along, if you really would treat me like your little brother even though you know what I’m really like under the smile. Find out if someone like me really can get along with someone like you.”

Nie Mingjue felt Meng Yao squeeze his hand, and wished he could respond in kind.

“So you have to wake up, da-ge. You hear me? You have to wake up.”

-

“It’s done. They’re gone. And it’s all your fault.”

He lies, Nie Mingjue told himself. He lies, he lies, he lies –

[fortune-fool02]

Compatibility

Jean Pierre Polnareff x android, female reader

Requested by: anonymous 

More Android AU please! I really liked it when I read it on your AO3 site Maybe Polnareff? Or Dio? I don't really mind

Android AU

I’m really glad you enjoyed it! For the story, I’ll be going with the Polnareff from part 5. Thank you! 

Please enjoy.

It wasn’t uncommon for androids to walk among people, it was seen as someone bringing their dog out for a walk or having someone there to carry their stuff as they shopped. To be more approachable, androids took the appearance of people without fault, the only thing giving away their true identity being the pale blue LED light on their temple.

The Speedwagon Foundation had spent funding to create androids but they were not released to the public yet as they were still in production. Prototypes were created and tested, showing some needs for improvements and some being perfect. 

To help Polnareff with his recovery after his discovery of the Stand Arrow, the Speedwagon Foundation had sent him an android of his own to aid him in recovery and keep him company. He didn’t mind and was actually quite curious as to how this would go. He was given information of the android model, the systems it would have and the orders it can be given. It was supposed to be the most human-like android they had created yet. Polnareff had never owned an android before and was a little unsure of what to do but he thought it to be a learning experience; just like his condition was. 

A knock was heard at the door, catching his attention, “One moment!” He called out before readjusting his wheelchair and made his way over to the front door, still trying to get used to it. He opened the door to see a young woman standing there, patiently waiting and smiling warmly. [Hair colour] hair seemingly perfect without a strand out of place with [Eye colour] eyes that held some form of softness to them. 

“Hello Jean-Pierre Polnareff, my name is [Name]. I am the android sent by the Speedwagon Foundation.” She introduced herself, the smile still on her lips as she did. Right off the bat, Polnareff was shocked at how....human she looked and sounded. Her uniform had the Foundation’s logo on it as well as indications of an android model, as did the LED light show, the only things proving that she was an android. 

“Bonjour [Name], please come in.” He said, moving his wheelchair aside a bit to let her in. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting a bit, I’m still trying to get used to seeing out only one eye and this wheelchair.” [Name] turned to him and smiled still, 

“It’s quite alright, Mr Polnareff.” So polite and kind. Something he welcomed happily. 

[Name] had settled down well over the next few days, doing everything to keep the place clean and spotless, always having his meals cooked on time and always there to help him with any exercises he was told to do by his doctor. In exchange for her kindness, he repaid such with his own kindness. He knew people often treated androids as items and objects but ever since she stepped through the door, he treated her as he would any other person. He never once referred to her as an ‘it’, something that so many other humans did with their androids. 

With her programming and storage of knowledge, there was never a dull moment with her or a boring conversation. Polnareff could not deny that he found [Name]’s company pleasant and enjoyable. 

“[Name], have you ever been in love?” He asked during one conversation. They had been talking about different love stories and the concept of it in general. The [Hair colour] android shook her head. 

“I cannot say I have. My programming cannot allow me to feel emotions, only mimic them.” At her answer, something zipped across Polnareff’s expression, pulling his lips down lightly and furrowing his brow. 

“So, you can’t feel anything? But you express things so well when we talk and do things together.” Polnareff couldn’t help but think about the many times they had laughed at silly things and how sweet her smile was whenever he told her a joke or story. 

“I am programmed to.” She answered then thought about something. She had seen humans express so many different emotions to the same thing and it was something she wished she could do. She wished to feel something genuine rather than something artificial. “Polnareff, what is it like to feel something? Anything true?” She asked him, her [Eye colour] eyes looking at him, waiting for an answer. 

Polnareff smiled at her question. “It is many things. It can be something that made you wish you couldn’t feel anything at all. A pain greater than any physical wound or torture. But it can also be something beautiful. To feel warm and light, teeming with hope for a new day, for a new start.” The smile of his lips was like that of recalling so many memories, both warm and cold, light and dark, hopeful and painful. [Name]’s eyes scanned over his physical form again, noting the many different prosthetic and wheelchair. Even with these, he didn’t let it pain him. Didn’t let it bring him down. 

“Here, let me show you.” He spoke softly before taking hold of her hand and bringing it to his chest, over his heart. For a few moments, she sat there confused. 

“Your heart-rate is-” He cut her off at that, 

“No, no, no. Don’t analyse anything. Just sit there, close your eyes, and feel. Listen.” Confusion remained but she did as instructed and closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat. A soothing, rhythmic sound that sounded so simple and yet it allowed a human’s body to function, to be alive. Her Thirium Regulator acted as a similar way but it didn’t beat. It wasn’t made of muscle and blood but micro-components and chemical liquids. Despite this, they were similar. They both gave their vessel life. Allowed them to feel. 

Polnareff smiled at the calm expression that painted her face as she listened. Slowly, he brought his hand up to the side of her face and gently caressed it, one finger covering the LED light. Who were to say that androids were not like humans when they look so alike? 

[Name]’s eyes opened slowly, “It’s beautiful.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, and he smiled. His hand still caressing her cheek. 

“Oui, it is.” 

[missnoodliness]

A Case of the Very Unthrifty Puppy

I have been thinking about this case, despite it having ended several months ago. It still eats at me, so I considered not posting about it at all. Puppies and kittens are not all smiles and joy in a veterinary office, much to the surprise of the general public.

Lucy came to us as a puppy for her initial set of vaccinations and the owners noted that she had soft stool. She was routinely dewormed and vaccinated.

Throughout her puppy series of vaccines, the consistency of her stool never improved. Her littermates of her sex were close to 40 lbs. while Lucy weighed in at under 8 lbs. She was skeletally thin, her limbs proportionate, her hair coat rough. Out of context, you would have thought she was an abuse/neglect case. Her fecal consistency ranged from watery to pudding consistency daily. Her appetite was poor, though her owners reported that she played at home.

She was tested for Giardia, intestinal parasites both in-house and sent to reference laboratories. We tested her for pancreatitis, B-12 deficiencies, folate abnormalities, pancreatic enzyme deficiencies. We dewormed this puppy multiple times with broad-spectrum dewormers. Pre and probiotics made no difference, antibiotics made no difference. We supplemented her with parenteral B-12, anti-diarrheal medications.

Eventually when I had run the gambit on bloodwork, x-rays that I was able to do in-house for this sad puppy, we referred her to an internal medicine specialist. With an abdominal ultrasound and intestinal biopsies, all that was found was eosinophilic inflammation throughout her small intestine and stomach which was interpreted as inflammatory bowel disease. The internist began Lucy on a dose of prednisone that was immunosuppressive. The steroid helped her stool a little, but it never became formed, but was not watery. It also helped her appetite some.

So, I set out to a forum of veterinarians and specialists online to try and help this poor puppy because I felt that I had run out of ideas, run out of plans for her. We were making no headway, no weight gain for her. We switched her to a hydrolyzed diet, but she had no interest in it and had to be put on appetite stimulants. I wanted to test her for congenital Addison’s disease (a lack of steroid production within the body), but the owners could never wean her off the prednisone for me to test her.

Lucy continued to struggle and consulting with specialists had given me more ideas, but I could not make the puppy eat the food they recommended, nor could I make the owners compliant with staying off of steroids in order to do additional diagnostics. When Lucy was 11 months old, her littermates were weighing close to 50 lbs and she never managed to beak 8 lbs. She stopped feeling playful at home, she had no appetite even with medication to help, her stools were never normal and never had form to them. Her owners had become financially restricted and could not pursue a second opinion referral after their first one.

They asked me to evaluate Lucy and asked me what I would do if Lucy were mine. I hate that question most of the time because while I have usually seen similar cases, I am never in my client’s shoes. I do not have their house payments, their debt, their children, their own health issues, their employment status, or their life experiences. I told them what that what they needed to keep in mind was her quality of life, not her quantity of life. I asked them to consider what her favorite things to do were, did they see signs of pain at home, to think about what her future may look like because with the diagnostics so far, the tentative diagnosis and treatment were not improving her physical condition.

Perhaps a week later, about 2 weeks before Lucy would have been 1 year old, her owners elected humane euthanasia. I have never faulted them for this decision. Their puppy was suffering and they were suffering just trying to keep her going. They asked me if they should do a necropsy, what was involved in it, if they should spend the money to try and get an answer. I told them it may not give them an answer, that necropsy does not always reveal the underlying pathology. Ultimately, they elected not to pursue necropsy and had her privately cremated.

This case was one where I felt like I pulled out all the stops, did everything I could think of, referred as soon as the owners were on board with it, and when that got us nowhere, I turned to a forum of experts. Even then, it felt like I failed this puppy, like I failed their family. I will never know what the true underlying disease was or if I could have even fixed it. My boss still tells me that we did everything we could within our means and the clients’ limitations, but I can tell you that it still eats at me. I do not know that it will ever go away.

[spectrumed]

4. body

Do I have body issues? Well... yeah. Who doesn’t? I absolutely do not like being fat, that’s something I’d change about me. And I probably should bulk up a little, go to the gym. My diet isn’t terrible, I don’t eat any fast food, but I could still always eat healthier. More greens, less beans. But most of all, my biggest body issue is that I don’t really associate myself with my body. My mind feels disconnected from my body. The day scientists invent a way for us all to live as brains in jars on wheels, I’m there standing in line for a chance to become all cerebral. Being physical, it’s just so messy, so awkward, so uncomfortable. You feel pain, you feel embarrassment, you feel horny. Nothing good comes from having a body. If you were just a brain, you could go on thinking and calculating and just generally having a good mental time. Or you’d start feeling suffocated and trapped trying to move your limbs and realising that they have been all chopped off. Hmm… Maybe it’s more complicated than I initially thought.

I don’t understand people who enjoy physical activities. Let it be clear before we delve into this long rant of mine complaining about all things gymnastic, this is not particularly an autistic trait. In fact, there are plenty of autistic people who may excel as athletes, their drive and obsessive personality traits becoming quite useful in developing that discipline that is required to fully commit to becoming an all-star jock. Not all autistic people are reprehensible nerds. Some autistic people are actually quite sexy. Some even have abs. But that’s not me. That’s not my clan of autistic people. I like drawing maps. I like thinking about things. I like making cocktails. The only part of my physical body that I like to put strain on is my liver. Don’t make me go on a run. There isn’t an armchair in this world that I wouldn’t want to sit down in, even the ones that used to be owned by old chain-smokers that have that awful aroma that sneaks into your nostrils and makes you worry about second-hand lung cancer. Sitting is great. I like sitting. Also lying down. Lying down is good.

Am I lazy? No, I don’t think so. Maybe a little, but here’s the thing. I can’t control the things I obsess over. There’s a great deal of overlap between autism spectrum disorder and attention deficit disorder. If you’re reading this and you’re a fellow friend on the spectrum, you may have gotten diagnosed with both. One of those rare times in my life I have attended group therapy, more than half the group were diagnosed with both. I, however, am not. But seeing as the two conditions are so intertwined, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that a facet of autism involves difficulties in trying to focus on something, or even trying not to focus on something too hard. If you were to judge my tenacity, my ability to keep going, based solely on how I perform during physical tasks, you’d think I was the least resolute person on the planet. But then you’ll find me, some time later, staying up until four in the morning drawing another map. A map that’s really just a different take on another map that I drew earlier, that itself was a reworked version of a previous map that I drew but didn’t like, that actually began as a second iteration of one map I drew that was actually wholly different, that was based on a map of Europe but if Denmark never existed. How many maps have you drawn Fred? Why don’t you go mind your own business, you nosy ferret.

The DSM-5 (the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. You can think of it as something akin to a bible of psychology, which is definitely an inflammatory way to refer to it, but I’m gonna go with it! Because I’m a wildcard, and that’s just how I roll,) includes this section as part of its diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder.

Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).

Now, I personally don’t relate to that at all. There’s nothing abnormal in my intense love for maps. The fact that maps aren’t as widely cherished as they ought to be is a fault of others, and I refuse to acknowledge that this may be a part of my character that could be perceived as quirky, or out of the ordinary. But, still, for the sake of argument, let’s presume that I can get, at times, excessively circumscribed. I’d like to say that I’ve only ever engaged in excessive circumscribing in my privacy away from onlookers, but I am afraid that I may have allowed some of my excessive circumscribing to happen in public. I definitely do apologise for that. I will try to do better in the future. But you never know when you’re about to experience some excessive circumscribing. The best you can do is keep it limited.

I don’t know how neurotypicals work. So, you don’t feel these kinds of obsessions? These moments of intense focus? These fixations? Then, you lack passion? Are you heartless? Soulless? Or are you just weak? Are you too feeble to hold steadfast working on a project all night long? To lose touch with your sense of hunger, your need for sleep, and all contact with any other human person? My fixations may come across as strange, but to me, your lack of fixations come across as bizarre. The world is endlessly fascinating. Have you never felt that compulsion to just fully immerse yourself in a topic that allows you to forget about your physical body for just that moment in time? The body cannot hold me. I wish to absorb as much information as I can. If I could astral project, by gods, I would astral project. To decouple your consciousness from your mushy brain for just that little bit, to go soaring across the landscapes, to explore the cosmos, just free of all things corporeal, that would be swell. How terrible isn’t it, when you’re deep in research, learning all about the mystical religious practices of the long-dead hierophants of the ancient world, to be drawn back into the present by the sudden need to urinate? There is something so dreadfully mundane about possessing a human body. If only we could all be celestial beings allowed to just be without the biological needs associated with having flesh and blood and bone and bladders.

I am not religious, nor am I spiritual. I do not believe that there is an immaterial world that lies above the material. I do not believe there is an astral plane. I think that one of the terrifying things about living is knowing that we do not possess such a thing as an eternal soul, that all things are temporal, and that ultimately, we have to come to terms with that. It’s not so terrible. In some ways, the temporal nature of life can be its biggest blessing. All things must pass. Sure, that does include the good times, like that vacation you spent as a child wishing that it would never end. But it also includes the bad times. The heartbreak you feel from a failed relationship. The grief you feel after the passing of a parent. The depression some of us are burdened with. Some days are worse than others. But they too will pass. One of the remarkable things about the human body is its ability to bounce back from injury. To change and evolve in ways we sometimes find unthinkable. The brain, likewise, is transformational, capable of incredible developments. We’re not fixed in stone. We’re not eternal. Which is a good thing. It is what allows recuperation and progress. I should be thankful to my body for being there, even when I’m not. After all, isn’t your body your temple?

I am able-bodied. Am I disabled? There’s naturally a lot of questions that surround how we ought to understand mental illness or neurodiversity in regards to disability. Does autism spectrum disorder count as a disability? Well, yes, it can be considered a learning disability. It is certainly something of a handicap, you are experiencing struggles that most people don’t experience. But to your average layperson, your typical dullard who spends their time watching reality TV, drinking beer, and being happy, what counts as a disability to them? Would they see me and think I was disabled? I’m not in a wheelchair. I don’t walk with a cane. Though I will occasionally “stim,” make small repetitive moments with my hands or legs, I do not exhibit any kind of physical symptoms. If I told them that I was disabled, they’d scoff and tell me that I’m just making it up for attention. They’d say I’m probably just trying to mooch off the government, scoring welfare checks while doing nothing to contribute to society. I’ve got all my limbs. I am not sickly. I am actually quite strong, due to being a big and tall man, I am able to carry quite the load. So, I have no reason to not be a fully productive member of society, right? And yet, here I am, feeling at most times utterly perplexed by anything physical. Probably because I am just lazy, right?

I don’t think laziness is a thing. What is laziness supposed to actually be? Tiredness? If a person is perpetually tired, then they’ve likely got a sleep disorder. To call them lazy would be callous. There are plenty of overworked people that get called lazy, especially by tyrannical overseers who think of their charges as mere workhorses whose only purpose in life is to toil away in the factory until the day they die. Intolerable parents who see their terminally sullen child and instead of wondering what is making them so upset decide to deride them for their lack of ambition. Are you lazy when you are procrastinating? No you are just being a tad irresponsible, maybe, deciding to skip out on chores in order to play video games or masturbate. But you’re not just doing nothing. People generally don’t enjoy doing nothing. We need something to occupy ourselves, to fill that vacuum we all feel whenever we’re just sitting still. I am someone who appears to be comfortable just sitting still, but that’s because I’ve learned, since a very young age, to entertain myself with my own thoughts. To fantasise, to daydream, to do anything I can to escape from the void that is doing absolutely nothing. Boredom, that’s terrible. Boredom is existential dread. Of all the motivations that drive humans, love, spite, jealousy, or pride, I think the need to evade boredom is one of the most prevalent. Humans would rather experience electric shocks than sit alone in a room being bored.

I am not lazy, I am merely… excessively circumscribed. For as much as this may be a specific diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder, I think it is also a common trait amongst all humans. There will always be within us a pull to do something other than the thing that we’re really supposed to be doing, that does not make us lazy, that just makes us terrified of boredom. Sure, you know that you’re supposed to mow the lawn, but that's just so dreadfully tedious, you just would rather be working on perfecting your new stand-up comedy routine. Thinking up jokes to tell on stage is so much more stimulating than cutting grass. And who cares if your lawn grows a little wild? Lawns are a scam, imposed by fascists to make us think grass in its natural state is ugly. All grass is beautiful, whether it is cut short or it is allowed to grow long. Do the thing that fulfils you. Allow yourself to become immersed in passion, to forget about those things that hold you back, the little silly things we’ve convinced ourselves is important. Stay up late, if you wish. You’re gonna kill it on open mic night, bud!

Yes, it is a problem when your obsessions grow so singular that you forget to feed yourself. When you forget personal hygiene, when you become trapped in your own apartment looking like some feral rodent caught in a cage. Like always, the key is moderation, and I know that from time to time, you may have to entertain a boring task or two. Clean your room, brush your teeth, trim your pubic hair, try to give an impression that you are taking care of yourself. If for anyone, do it for your mother. She will be happy seeing you looking like a civilised individual, wearing clean clothes and not looking malnourished. But don’t ever chastise yourself for being lazy. Laziness is a sin that we’re all guilty of, and if we’re all guilty of it, is it really a sin? Or is it just part of what it means to be a human? To be a messy creature made out of flesh and blood and bone and the occasional bladder. In the end, I’m more happy than displeased at having a body. It’d be much harder to type on a keyboard if I didn’t have fingers.

Still, I wish I wasn’t fat.

[dylawa]

So @allmightluver​ made this FANTASTIC analysis into All Might’s character [Here] and how the current Manga arc (chapters ~300-305) really shows how he’s going through it, and, if you have the time to read it, I by all means am begging you to go read and reblog that post instead. But, for my own small-brained sake, I asked for their permission to create an abbreviated version of their post (which is still “long,” but it’s not a whole fanfic’s length long. It’s brilliant as it is! I am just weak).

This literally is just a rephrased edition of a much larger, more in-depth piece; it’s the equivalent of reading a book’s synopsis over the book itself, so GO. READ IT.

But, to those that are still here, this is a Thing about All Might. Again, all of this is just rephrased from @allmightluver​‘s [original post]; I kept most of the original context; maybe I’ll do a follow-up reblog with my own thoughts.

From as early as Toshinori’s childhood, to as late as his young teenage years, literally all he ever wanted was to be a hero people could see and know, “Everything is going to turn out okay, no matter how bad the situation is.” Many other heroes of the time, and even into current day BNHA, generally had other reasons for pursuing the line of work, but not him. There was no yearning for fame, lust for money, or a power trip, or anything like that. The only thing he wanted out of being a hero, was to get people to smile. To feel safe.

It’s not common for a 14 year old to come to this conclusion, so it’s pretty safe to assume Toshinori didn’t have the best childhood, whether that’s in his own personal life, or he really just had no filter between his home life, and the world of heroes and villains. Being Quirkless probably played a huge factor in all of that.

But then, what about Izuku? He was Quirkless, right? Here’s the thing: He had All Might to look up to. Toshinori? Nobody. Yes, Izuku had some of the same roadblocks, but All Might inspired him to keep going. There isn’t much to imply that Toshinori had a similar relationship to Nana when they first crossed paths, and hero culture was less of a fashion show than it is currently.

Nana was only able to mentor Toshinori for a few short years before she was brutally murdered, right in front of him, and after that, all he had was Gran Torino, who wasn’t exactly benevolent teacher material-- vicious enough that, even as an older man, Toshinori had severe reservations about speaking with him again; but back then, he was one of the only people that knew the pain he went through in losing Nana, not to mention knowledge of One for All itself. And even then, Torino instructed him to leave the country, once again leaving Toshinori all alone to figure out things for himself until he could confidently return to Japan.

And when he did come back, he had his work cut out for him; there was a lot of work to be done to get society as “surface-level gleaming” as it was under All Might’s thumb, and we see some of that in Vigilantes; staying up for days on end to save people, stop villains, and repair structural damage. He even falls asleep mid-jump at one point, because that’s all the time for rest he can squeeze in. But, by this point, the power of One For All has lead the public, and even other heroes to believe, that All Might has it under control; he doesn’t need help, or at least, nothing more than what they’re already giving. And sure, Endeavor did his part, but that was for him; he just wanted to surpass All Might, not help him.

Now, after his gruesome injury, Toshinori no longer has that ability to save people like he used to. He spent years doing nothing but serving the world, fighting an unseen force that nearly tore him in half, to the point that that evil force should have died, and, even after all of that, thinking he had won, that it was over, Nighteye still promised his untimely demise, before abandoning him for continuing to push himself as his organs threatened to fall out of his body. But, even if AFO was “gone,” there was still a whole other world of villains to deal with; the worst threat was gone, but that didn’t mean the world was safe.

And the only person who could maintain that peace, was All Might. Now, he was under pressure of a ticking clock. So, he kept going.

Which, of course, turned him into what we saw in the beginning of the manga/anime. He has a whole slew of physical issues that are only exacerbated by his lack of self care in favor of pushing himself as hard as he can to keep up his hero work, and because of that, he’s completely ruined his health outside of the All Might persona. The man is practically rotting from the inside out, and, though at first no one knows it’s All Might, people on the street look at this ghastly figure, and they know it. And he knows they know it. Could you imagine the stress he swallows down, knowing, one day, they will find out the truth?

And, let’s not forget how, once Nighteye left, Toshinori was left alone with his paperwork. Eventually, Tsukauchi took over, but that was only because Toshinori let it slip in a moment of deep stress just who he was. But, in the timespan between, it was all up to Toshinori to handle those things, on top of his hero work, and the bare-minimum of whatever he was doing to keep himself alive.

This part, I’m just quoting from @allmightluver​‘s post verbatim:

“People blame him for not preparing society for his retirement, that he failed in passing on the torch so to speak, but in reality he did everything possible to keep society from falling for 40 years, doing all within his power just to keep things afloat. He is only one person. One human being, he can’t do everything despite trying to. Society failed All Might.”

Some people in fandom say he sucks as a teacher, but first of all, do you remember who he had as a teacher? I’d say he’s leaps and bounds above Torino. Not to mention, he’s never been a teacher before, and he never planned to pass on OFA again. And just because someone’s a bad teacher (which, he could be worse), doesn’t mean they’re not smart: he’s got a 6/6 intelligence score. Which definitely doesn’t help when Izuku does something to hurt himself with his Quirk that he gave to him. He could very well think it’s his own fault.

And we haven’t even touched up on Dave yet! This man literally staged a hostage situation so he could get his hands on banned technology to try to extend All Might’s time, and hurt so many people in the process. There’s another friend gone.

And then, All For One comes back. A man Toshinori swore he killed. And then he has to fight him in front of the world, having his weakness exposed, and then being told this villain is grooming Nana’s grandson-- someone Toshinori failed to save, didn’t even know needed saving, because he didn’t know the kid existed. And he doesn’t get time to process that; he has to pretend he’s fine, even while he’s shown in this failing human form to the world, to stop AFO once more at great personal cost.

And then, OFA leaves him.

And then he has to deal the the ordeal of being human while Bakugo blames himself for it, while Nighteye dies and confesses he’s happy after all these years to see him on his last words, while watching Endeavor struggle with one Nomu on live television, while watching Bakugo almost take over the burden of carrying OFA, and, despite all of these horrible things occurring... he still confesses to his acquaintance, Aizawa, that he’s “decided to live.” Like it’s another burden to take on. How can this man not be horribly suffering deep down inside? We don’t see the extent of it, because he trained for so long to keep it buried deep down, and it’s harder as Toshinori than it was as All Might, but he’s still got severe trauma and chronic physical conditions that will last the rest of his life. And, yes, people made him promise to live, but only he “decided” he would do so.

And then, he does research into the OFA holders, and finds a gruesome secret. He could have sealed Izuku’s fate to an early grave, not just because of the nature of hero work, but because OFA users have what seems to be a natural predisposition to die early (due to those who previously had quirks being given OFA having their lifespan shortened because of it; Toshinori doesn’t know the full truth yet).

And pretty much right after he finds out that information, the world implodes on itself. Villains win a critical fight, and run amok. People are dying. Heroes are quitting. They blame him. The heroes that do remain can barely handle the load. Some even die. AFO escapes prison, Izuku is in critical condition-- everything he worked for for forty years, disintegrates overnight. Everything he did to himself in pursuit of a peaceful society meant nothing. And, he can feel his vestige within One For All, which isn’t a good sign.

Time is running out.

And he may not even die happy.

“People don’t credit All Might enough for everything he’s done. Most don’t realize the sacrifices he’s made. His character is so unbelievably profound and deep, it’s more than just the “I am here!” people focus on. He’s a deeply troubled, layered, complex character. And I can’t find fault within him.”

[kickingitwithkirk]

Greetings From Austin

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Word Count: 2616

Warnings: a/b/o, homophobia, bisexuality, biphobia, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: Here we go again with one my weird as hell dreams, series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @writeyourmindaway​​​​​​​

*images found online

Prologue

Austin, TX

Mid July

“Babe,” Jensen softly says in a low voice to the person seated next to him in the waiting room, “Babe,” he says a bit louder, still getting no response. Leaning close, he blows into their ear.

Jared starts, his “what” muffled by the finger he’s been chewing on.

“You know you can’t do that, don’t want you getting sick.” Taking his hand Jensen pulls it away from his pretty pink lips, gently caressing the finger. Jared had finally stopped chewing on his hands when Covid-19 became widespread.

“Where’s your gum?” Jared bite his lip not answering.

Sighing, Jensen shifts retrieving his pack and hands a piece to him. “What’s got you masticating again?” He inquires as Jared pops the stick in his mouth.

Jared chews the gum nervously weighing how to answer the question knowing Jensen won’t accept anything less than the whole truth. “What if something goes wrong again because of me.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed. He learned years ago that while their relationship is one of equals, he had to be lead Alpha when Jared’s mental state overwhelmed him as it had the last few weeks.

***

After the public announcement in March 2019 that season fifteen would be Supernaturals last, they had agreed when finished with the pickups they would take an extended break, return to Austin and concentrate on their marriage.

Jared intended to stop acting indefinitely, pursuing other interests and Jensen wanted to concentrate on his music.

Of course, things didn’t quite end up how they planned.

Jared entered negotiations to star in the Walker, Texas Ranger reboot, along with being an executive producer. Jensen got a call from Kripke wanting him for the role of Soldier Boy in The Boys third season.

But by March of 2020, everything came to a halt thanks to the Corona-virus.

The shutdowns left Supernaturals final two episodes with no definitive filming date and their seemingly never ending last season put their other projects on hold.

For the first time in years they had the luxury of a leisurely schedule, not having to be somewhere on a timetable, they could communicate with friends and family uninterrupted, deal with their other businesses, charities, etc, leaving most days free to enjoy being together without constraint.

But even amazing, awesome, vigorous sex on every horizontal/vertical surface that could support the two big Alphas only filled so many hours and like many couples, they started getting each others nerves and looked for other ways to stay occupied.

By late May, Jared was unable to sleep or eat, even going out of the house became a chore. When he hit a consecutive fourth day in bed, Jensen bodily dragged him into the bath for a desperately needed shower and loaded him in his truck driving to his doctor's.

Upon checking in they were told patients only allowed in the facility. Jared started panicking, saying he was having chest pains and couldn’t breath. He was rushed in with Jensen hot on their heels after morphing into an overprotective Alpha mate no one was stopping.

Jared’s doctor deduced with the lock-downs prohibiting him from his routine checkups and periodic adjustments needed to his medications triggered this episode.

The first step was to wean him off his current prescriptions and change to a newly approved, alternative regime. He was checked in a facility for ten days under observation while detoxing off his meds.

His therapist switched his twice weekly tele-counseling sessions to daily for the foreseeable future and Kodas certification as an emotional support animal was approved. His progress was slow but he was returning back to his sweet natured, big hearted, exceptionally tactical, overgrown puppy self.

When the surprise call from the clinic came a few days ago about an appointment opening, Jensen initially didn’t want it, still in his overly excessive protective Alpha mode. Jared’s outburst made him relent, fearing they were on a collision course for a major setback if he didn’t.

And Jensen, being Jensen, went overboard to ensure the appointment was absolutely private.

Part I

Jared was about to speak when a woman in scrubs called out, “Mr. Bonham and Mr. Page.” they got up crossing over to her, “Hello, I’m Sissy, Dr. Rodgers nurse, please follow me.”

They pass through the doorway leading through a maze of halls like that of any other medical clinic except this one specialized in a very specific service.

The nurse opens a door near the back of the clinic gesturing for them to enter the spacious office, “Please have a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly.” She closed the door and they sat down in the pair of chairs directly in front of the large, dark mahogany desk.

Jensen, scenting Jared’s nervousness, lifts his right hand kissing his palm, making him chuckle at the tickle of Jen’s soft beard before twining their fingers together and setting them on his left thigh, smiling reassuringly.

There was a brief knock before the door opened and an older, silver haired Beta entered. “Hello, I’m Dr. Rodgers, how are we doing today?” He asks, moving to his chair behind the desk.

Jared gave him a tight smile and Jensen remained placid.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, “Relax Mr. Page, this is just a visit to go over the paperwork before deciding about how we proceed, not the Spanish Inquisition.” Jared releases his held breath but couldn’t completely calm himself.

“I know the process can be overwhelming but I must ask, is there something we’ve done to make you uncomfortable?” Dr. Rodgers inquires.

“No, everyone’s been really nice, very professional. It’s just we..we had issues the first time we attempted to do this.” Jared finished his sentence quietly, in the recess of his mind; something bad is gonna happen and it’ll be my fault.

Jensen squeezes his hand tighter, instinctively sensing Jared’s mind was trying to spiral again, “When tried this before someone leaked our plans to the media. It wasn't ever proven the clinic was involved but...”

“We do everything possible to keep our clients anonymity protected here. All of our staff have been thoroughly vetted and sign NDA, given your professions, you're familiar with how they work. Your real identities will remain completely confidential, even if you choose to not proceed. It is why you chose this particular clinic, yes?”

“Yes, it is.” Jensen replied.

“How about we get this bit of paperwork out of the way, then we can have a more relaxed visit. I’ve gone over the applications you both submitted and have noted a few discrepancies in the medical section that need clarification before we proceed,” He opens the top file, “Mr. Bonham, why did you omit Genu Varum from your medical history?”

Jensen kept his expression neutral as he felt his stomach automatically clench. He had been mercilessly teased throughout his childhood about his bowed legs by his older brother Josh and later his buddies from school when they’d come over to hang out. By the time he was in high school Jensen’s extraordinary looks and personality were what got people’s attention first. Nowadays, many a fanfic waxed poetic about those bowed legs.

“The questionnaire inquired about inherited genetic medical conditions and since mine isn’t, I didn’t think it was necessarily applicable.” Jared hears an edge creeping into Jensen’s voice and gives their tangled fingers a quick squeeze.

“Did you see an orthopedist and were they able to determine what caused the condition? Did they suggest any surgical procedures or therapies to straighten your legs?”

“I was born a preemie, the orthopedists my parents consulted decided my condition was attributable to that.” Jensen replies tersely, dropping his vocal range. Jared gripped his hand harder, telling him to cool the attitude. “The doctor didn’t recommend surgery but sent me to physical therapy, thought it would help them straighten as I grew.”

“So no others in your immediate family have this issue?”

“Everyone my family has straight legs, including my three children.”

Jared piped in, “He hates it but he does have an exercise regimen; stretching, strength training. Oh, he also takes several different vitamins, omega oils, turmeric and extra vitamin D to support his joints.” They watched the doctor scribble a few more notes in the file before closing it.

“Mr. Page,” Jared sits up straighter in his chair, “I appreciate that you went into detail about your mental health status. I see you’ve recently been hospitalized, your medications have been changed to an alternative regiment and you’ve also increased your therapy sessions?”

Jared’s interview continued for another twenty minutes as Dr. Rodgers questioned him in depth about his depression and anxiety, feeling said anxiety ratcheting up so he focused on Jensen’s thumb rhythmically moving over his hand and used every ounce of his acting skills to appear confident and in control.

Dr. Rodgers closed his file, “I only have a few general questions left then we can discuss how you wish to proceed.”

After a more relaxed, genial conversation with the doctor, Sissy took them to a couple private rooms with paraphernalia to help stimulate them into producing a couple semen samples.

Jensen was getting close to finishing with his favorite spank-bank fantasy when he felt Jared’s frustration across their bond.

~~~

Jared couldn’t get aroused.

He felt as useless as his flaccid cock.

His doctor warned him that loss of sex drive could be a possible side effect of his new regiment until his body adjusted to it. He had struggled with temporary impotence a few times on his old meds, always fearful Jensen would finally see him as undesirable, no longer a satisfactory mate.

Rationally, he knew it was his illness causing these exceptionally hard to deal thoughts recently and the nagging idea this wasn’t the right thing for them to attempt again continually kept creeping in.

Jensen’s unspoken reluctance about having more children at his age was also weighing on his conscience, warring against his own biological longings.

They had a humongous argument when he told Jensen about taking the appointment. Jen thought this was the wrong time to attempt it again, pointing out he was just getting his equilibrium back setting Jared went off on a rant about how he no longer wanted him and would leave him like Genevieve had because he was too broken to deal with anymore.

Unmitigated anguish was written across Jensen’s beautiful features, the very notion that Jared could conceivably believe that he’d ever abandon him made his soul hurt in such a way no verbal language on earth could ever express his devastated feelings traveling across their bond.

***

Everything they’d been through; from that bar fight solidifying their friendship, Jared’s first breakdown, the years of living as roommates while secretly a couple to finding wives who understood their unique relationship and still married them both in 2010.

The joyous arrival of JJ three years later that unfortunately exacerbated Genevieve's frustration of not being able to conceive coming out with a vengeance at Jared. His unexpected breakdown in Switzerland was the final nail in their marriage. Gen was there for him but in the end it was all too much and she filed for divorce.

Shortly after, Jared’s iCloud account was hacked. It was believed, but never conclusively proven, that Gen was behind it since her lawyer was trying to break their prenuptial agreement, the videos documenting his private and explicit sexual relationship with Jensen were legally considered adulterous. In the end, the court upheld the legal document but the ramifications...

They were summoned to L.A. for the meeting from hell with WB executives, both convinced it was the end of Supernatural and their careers.

After the reaming out, they each received a weeks pay suspension to cover some of what it was gonna cost PR in time and money to deal with the inevitable repercussions and placate the show's sponsors.

How would the show’s fans react? Would they still be able to accept them as brothers only on TV while in real life they were involved in a highly stigmatized relationship?

When they returned to work there was an atmosphere of tension that hadn’t existed before. It was an open secret that all shows had their share of bitchiness and backstabbing behind the scenes. Jensen may have the thicker skin, keeping tighter control on his emotions, but Jared knew it hurt him just as deeply the loss of some of their friends because of prejudicial, social beliefs that two Alpha males shouldn’t be involved.

Jensen’s parents showed up unexpectedly in Vancouver a few weeks later. What started out as a not quite comfortable visit quickly deteriorated with his religiously conservative parents. They had not raised him like this and blamed Jared, saying he had corrupted him, leading him into a sinful lifestyle. He needed to repent and return to his wife to whom he had made a commitment before god.

Jensen blew up, replying it was none of their business, it was between them and oh, yeah, Danneel knew about them before marrying him and they better not say anything to her. Without another word his parents left. When he later called them to make amends, his mother coolly stated that he was no longer part of their family and to never contact them again.

Three months after the twins were born in 2016 came the finalization of Jensen’s divorce from Danneel, painful but congenial. They easily agreed on joint custody and still spent most holidays together. Jensen gave Dani financial security in their settlement, he wanted to make sure she didn’t have to worry about working again unless she wanted to.

All these years later, Jared continually has nagging thoughts that they had let everybody down. They received support when they publicly came out as bisexual then lost some of it when they married, being mocked for not coming out as gay.

***

There was another knock at the door and Jared ignored it, it was that nurse checking on his lack of progress again. The knock turned into pounding, “Jared, open this door now dammit!” He flinched realizing Jensen knew what was going on with him. Releasing the privacy latch and opening the door a crack he saw concerned green eyes only.

“Sorry, I thought you were that nurse,” he stepped away and sat back down as Jensen came in and re-latching it behind him. “She came to get me when you stopped answering,” Jensen said, walking over to him and started running his thick fingers through his husband’s long hair, “what’s going on babe?”

He glances up knowing that Jensen already knew, “It’s okay Jay, take as long as you need.” He paused at the unpleasant scent wafting around him. “If you’d be more comfortable we could do this at home…” Jared shakes his head, “There’s the risk of damage, contamination and or not able to get it back in time that could make the semen unusable.” Jared quotes from a website.

Jensen softly chuckled, “Nerd.”

Jared notices the bulge in his jeans, “You didn’t...”

“Drain the snake..choke the chicken..spank the monkey.”

“Fuck, okay, you didn’t! Stop using old man slang.” He shook his head smiling  at Jensen intentionally goading him.

Jared reached up for the hand playing in his hair, grasping it to draw Jensen down next to him.

“Jack, I don’t want to wait any longer on doing this. I love JJ and the twins, you know I do, but they'll always be yours and Danneels. I know the timing could be better... but I'm almost thirty-eight and I want my..our own pups running around the house driving us crazy.”

“For the next eighteen years?”

“Minimum.”

tbc

Part II

SPN: @donnaintx​​​​​​​​​​​​ @lyarr24

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

[schnitzelbutterfingers]

The Forgotten One (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)- CHAPTER 3

a/n: first, i wanna wish everyone a happy thanksgiving from my family to yours! please take the time to thank everyone you are so grateful to have in your life, especially god, for letting us live and for all the blessings he gives us. do not take anyone for granted.

next, so sorry for the holdup!! finally, chapter 3 is here! we’ll see what abby feels about the attack, her and ethan conversing, and a surprise ending. read, like, and let me know your reviews! forgive me if there are any spelling mistakes or grammar errors. let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist and as always, enjoy (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥

summary:  Louise Ramsey, the mother of the famous, brilliant diagnostician Ethan Ramsey, is back into his life. However, Louise holds many secrets, dangerous secrets, that could harm him, Dr. Abigail ‘Abby’ Chacko (my MC), and the very few lives he actually cares about. It is up to Ethan, Abby, and their friends to save each other from what is about to come.

pairing(s): dr. ethan ramsey x f!mc (dr. abigail ‘abby’ chacko) || dr. sebastian chacko x dolores hudson (YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT)

warning(s): angst, and then it’s pure fluff, and then a surprise ending (you’re gonna die die dieeee :)))

word count: 4289

catch up here :)

______________________________________________________________

Abby’s POV

When she wakes up it is with a headache, a throat ache and side pain. When she looks more closely at her nose, she sees an oxygen tube through them. When she looks more closely at her surroundings, she realizes she is in a hospital bed.

Lying down. Wearing a sky blue hospital gown. With an IV through her accessory cephalic vein. 

Jumping Jehoshaphat, what happened this time?

Abby spent many times in the hospital during her childhood. Most of them were due to the number of cuts and bruises she got from her father, in which some of them were very serious injuries. One time she was admitted to the hospital because...

No, Abby. Don’t relive through that phase. It’ll wound you more.

There are many types of pain. Many of her pains were physical, but some of her pains were emotional. By far, she can tell the emotional pain is the hardest to get over with.

Sure, she has been cut with a knife, raped by many of her father’s friends, and whipped with a belt. To her it was normal, and she had gotten used to it. To others, the pain is insufferable. 

Heartbreak hurts. Too much. It can rip people from the inside out, and change them. For better or worse.

Her father caused her many heartbreaks. In return, she studies, skipped five grades, graduated from high school when she was 13, and graduated from Hopkins when she was 21. Some might say she took it too far, but she knows it was just what she needed.

What she needed to prove to her father that pain doesn’t break her. 

What she needed to prove to her horrid patients that she is not dumb.

What she needed to prove to the whole world that she is not as young and innocent as everyone thinks she is.

Death, betrayal, and pain were her three companions, with some delectation in between. She cherished those jocund moments.

And she thanked God. Seb. Jazmin. Ethan. Herself. For all the hard work. 

But what happened right now? Why is she in this bed? 

It feels as if she has fallen into a cactus, her heart being punctured by tiny pins and needles. It’s starting at the bottom of her stomach, and it’s slowly growing. 

The anxiety.

The depression.

It feels like some kind of vaccination, where the shot doesn’t really hurt but the aftermath feels disastrous, cataclysmic. It’s leaving her breathless, as if she is running away from a ghost from her past. It is leaving a certain kind of exhaustion on her.

It’s heartbreak. But why? Why does she feel heartbreak? What could have possibly gone wrong-

Everything. Everything is going wrong. Bingo. She knows what is happening. But she can’t even speak the name out loud. It’s petrifying her. Really well.

 Louise Ramsey. 

Ethan’s mother who claimed to come for him and Alan.

Louise Ramsey.

The one who tricked them, including her.

Louise Ramsey. 

The one who stabbed her. The one who she trusted. 

The one who she believed had a change of heart didn’t have a change of heart at all.

She fooled everyone. She’s a liar. She is manipulative. She is every dark sin written across this universe. She is the next generation of Sat-

Wait. Wait a long moment.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

How is Abby supposed to tell this to Ethan of all people? How is she supposed to let him know his own mother tried to harm her? 

But she had to.

Moisture is falling from the tip of her index finger, even if the bed sheets feel cool. Sweat is dripping from her forehead, even if the hospital room is air conditioned. An imaginary shock travels through her body. The sharpness of the pain is unequivocal and indisputable that it sends shockwaves through her bloodstream. If it wasn’t for the bed, she would have crumpled to the floor.

She is currently holding the bed frame with a white-knuckled grip.

The young doctor scratched her arm nervously, mindful of the IV, as she let that horrifying memory fly through her.

Louise stabs her in the side, blood spilling to Abby’s legs and on the floor. She couldn’t say anything, words failing to come our of her mouth, every second making it harder to breather. She starts to lose consciousness, hearing the sounds of the patients in the room screaming for security.

Louise whispers into her ear, “The game has begun.” 

The last thing she sees is Louise running towards the exit and nurses coming towards Abby, before her world evades into darkness. 

That’s what happened. That’s why she’s in the hospital bed, feeling like crap.

That’s why she feels heartbreak, of all the emotions she can feel. She has heard of brother cheating on brother and father cheating on his wife. But a mother disowning her own husband and son, but then comes back only for her to clown them? 

That goes all the way back to Rebekah and Jacob in the Old Testament of the Bible, if you ask me.

She is back to the question on how she is supposed to tell Ethan. 

Does he know? If he knows, how does he feel? Does he feel depressed?

She sure hopes not.

When something happens to Abby, he always blamed on himself. Whether it was his fault or not. She reminisces on when Ethan apologized and was filled guilt when he found out about the trial.

Or when he came back from the Amazon. He didn’t really apologize for that, but the regret and remorse lurking beneath his eyes was the only thing she needed to know. To know that he was feeling guilt. Dismay. Lamentation.

Or when he opened up his bottled-up feelings concerning his mother. He said that he wasn’t planning on ‘dragging’ her into his mess. 

Or when she was in that decontamination room. She remembers his words clearly, words that were etched into her heart.

I wished I hadn’t asked you to stay away.

Or now.

If he knows. 

She knows what will happen if Ethan blames himself for this. He will be a different person. He will start becoming cold-hearted to people he cares about. He will push her away. Again.

Because he tends to believe that it is all his fault that accidents happen to the people he cherishes the most. He thinks that he is a curse. A malediction. An imprecation. She remembers the night when they connected for the first time. What he said.

This is The Ethan Ramsey. The man who can save anyone except the people he gives a damn about. Not Dolores. Not Naveen. And not you.

She was torn by what he said. Not because he said he couldn’t save her, but because he couldn’t love himself. 

The young doctor hopes he already knows what happened. Who stabbed her. She couldn’t even bear the thought of seeing his face crumble. The man who was stoic. The man who every one recognized as an imbecile. The man who every single doctor is head-over-heels in love with.

Ethan told her to tell him everything. Everything that makes her angry. Everything that makes her sad. Everything that makes her happy. 

If he doesn’t know what happened, she will tell him. She promised him that.

*Flashback*

It's normal for Abby to have a panic attack. Keeping her inhaler with her was vital for her to go through the day. Especially this week.

It’s been one week after the incident. That incident. That incident that took two innocent lives. Danny and Bobby. It’s all her fault. 

If Danny was alive, him and Sienna would’ve been a couple, loving each other. Now, she sees a Sienna whose eyes are haunted. Grave. Not filled with any giddy or joy. She doesn’t see her smile anymore, the once blushed cheeks with her beautiful grin that shows off her dimples, gone. Lost. Thrown away.

If Bobby was alive, he could’ve bought his daughter the new car. It was what he always wanted to do. Instead of enjoying his time with his daughter in her brand new car, he’s under the cold earth. 

Rafael is now going under therapy, but he also feels less confident from Rafael the paramedic. She misses the way he smiles. He does smile now, but there is no joy beneath his eyes.

And for Abby, she is not okay. She wishes she died. But she knows she couldn’t. There are people rooting for her. Her brother. Her mother. Her friends. Ethan. Ethan.

When she was informed that the gas in her body was maitotoxin and there was no cure, she accepted her fate and was ready to die. She glanced at Ethan, and his expression wasn’t betraying anything. But the eyes held more feelings than ever. They were pleading. They said, “Please don’t give up.”

She then realized that if they can find a cure within one day, she’ll try and survive. If not for me, then for Ethan and all the people I love, she thought.

Abby starts passing through that hallway. That one hallway. That one hallway that changed her life. No, that one room. And then, she passes through that room.

It’s clean, all the seals, the beds inside with new blankets and pillows. But she can’t see any of that. She can only see her, Rafael, Danny, and Bobby in that room. She sees Bobby dying. She sees Danny being taken away. She sees Rafael and herself being unable to breathe. 

Suddenly she runs away. She can’t take it anymore. You stupid, why would you even come back to the hospital when you’re not ready yet? she scolds herself. Because of Farley. Damn it.

Abby is flooded by her own thoughts when she accidentally runs into someone. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I-”

Only to know that someone is the one. 

She hears his baritone voice calling out to her, finding comfort and solace in it. 

“Abby? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Ethan wipes something off her cheeks, and she realized that she was crying the whole time. She was so lost in her emotions that she didn’t a single drop falling down to her right cheek. 

“I-” The young doctor tries to speak but couldn’t. She can’t breathe.

“Rookie!” Ethan quickly drags her to the nearest supply closet. He asks her where her inhaler is. 

“Left... pocket...”

He hastily grabs and places it into her mouth. 

“Deep breaths, rookie. Deep breaths.”

She does as she is asked and takes deep breaths. After a few long moments, her breathing level starts to go normal. 

“Rookie, you weren’t ready for your first day back, were you?”

Abby starts to argue. “Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you panic attack right now seems to prove otherwise.”

She sighs. He’s right. She wasn’t even ready to set foot into the hospital. The only reason she did was because of Farley’s rash, and she thought it was life threatening.

Ethan sighs, breaking her from her thoughts.

“Go home, Abby, you’ve had a long day.”

Abby is about to snipe back when he stops her by raising his hand.

“On second thought, I’ll take you to my house. We’re gonna take a day off.”

“But Ethan, we both have patients-”

“Who will be taken care of by the other doctors in this hospital. If you think I’ll be leaving you anytime soon, you’re wrong.”

Hearing his words makes Abby feel lighthearted. She is stubborn just like him, but he’ll always be there for her.

After getting a confirmation and a wink from Naveen, they are in the car. It’s 1:00 P.M., and Abby sees couples sitting on the chairs in the outside booths of a restaurant, smiling, one couple holding hands. She dreams of these moments with Ethan, but their relationship is still uncertain.

The car stops at a red light, and she turns around to look at Ethan, who is lost in thought.

“Ethan, are you alright?” she asks him, concerned.

The mature doctor cracks a dry smile towards her. “I should be asking you that.”

“Ethan...”

“Abby... are you having suicidal thoughts?”

Abby was astounded by his question.

“Ethan! Why would you think that?”

“I’m just asking. If you ever feel that, come talk to me immediately. I can’t...”

It hit her on what Ethan was thinking about. He doesn’t want her to leave. As much as the question made her a little frustrated, she couldn’t help but think about what he was feeling throughout the whole ordeal n the decontamination room.

Abby takes a deep breath. “Ethan, I’m not suicidal. I never have been. I was just uncomfortable, that’s all.”

Ethan looks at her deeply into her eyes. She can literally feel him searching for any lies at her statement, his body relaxing when he didn’t find any. 

When he stops the car, she realizes that they’re here. Before Abby can take off her seatbelt, Ethan’s hand on hers stops her from doing anything. She looks up with a questioning expression.

Ethan speaks in a very stern but concerned way. “If you ever have anything irritating or frustrating you-” he kisses her on the forehead.

“Anything that brings you pain-” He kisses her on the nose, making her scrunch it.

“Anything at all, that makes you want to cry out-” He kisses her on both cheeks. 

“You come and tell me. Promise me” He finally kisses her on the lips.

As the final words come out from Ethan’s lips, she wonders about how she is so lucky to have him. Tears were burning in the back of her eyes, but this time, they were tears of gratefulness. To Ethan. For being her best friend. She cracks a smile.

“I promise.”

*Back to present*

“Hello? Ma’am? Doctor?” she is interrupted from her thoughts by a male nurse. When she checks his tag, his name is Caspian Chapman, and he has a light British accent. She hasn’t seen him before. Abby suddenly feels embarrassed. Who knows how many times, he called her like that.

“Hi, I am so sorry,” she says shyly. “I was lost in thought. Were you speaking to me this whole time?”

Caspian gives her a wide smile. “Nope! I just came in! My name is Caspian, and I will be your nurse! I am new here so...” he trails off.

The young resident laughs, despite the pain on her left side. “Haha, don’t worry! I’m not one of those Karens! Now tell me, how long will I be staying here?”

“From the stab wound you received, you will probably be admitted here for a week.”

Abby inwardly groans, wanting to just go home. Of course this would happen. Even if she’s disappointed by the news, she knows that it is vital for her to recover.

“So, did the stab wound affect my liver or...” she winces at her left side.

Caspian sighs. “You are correct. They brought you to surgery quickly, or who knows what would have happened.”

“Wait, how did you know I’m a doctor?” 

Caspian smiles again. “Are you kidding me? You are Dr. Ethan Ramsey’s protege and in the diagnostics team! Not only that, you helped him save Dr. Naveen Banerji! You are also popular on Instagram. Anyone would kill to be in a spot and reputation like you.”

Her cheeks grow red. 

“I suppose so...” she trails off. 

The new male nurse speaks. “Anyways, I should let Dr. Ramsey, Dr. Banerji, and your family know that you are awake! They will be at relief.”

Wait, what? Ethan is here? Naveen is here? My family is here? They must’ve found out the harsh truth. 

As Caspian turns to leave, Abby stops him. The nurse turns around.

“Yes? Is something the matter?”

“I just wanted to know if they knew who stabbed me.”

Caspian grimaces. “Yes, they are well aware. Do you not wish to speak to them?”

Oh no. Ethan knows. What will she do? Should she call in her family first? No Abby, he'll think that I’m mad at him! She inwardly slaps herself.

Okay, Abby, deep breaths.  She took a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and exhaled. 

“Can you do me a favor and call in Eth- Dr. Ramsey first?”

“I will,” he replies back.

______________________________________________________________

Ethan’s POV

He is terrified. Terrified to go and see her. Terrified to talk to her. But he has to. He has to let her know he loves her. He has to let her know that he can’t live without her. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Seb.

“Ethan, buddy, remember what I said. Tell her you love her. Make yourself happy. Make her happy. And she will never blame you for anything that happened. She’s a very reasonable girl.”

He looks into Seb’s eyes, and sees that there is something he didn’t tell him. Some kind of sadness, but there is happiness mixed in. He will find out later.

The older doctor turns around and sees the support written in their faces. Seb. Jazmin. Naveen. They are smiling broadly.

Naveen claps him on his back. “Now go get your woman, Ethan.”

Ethan smiles back. “Thank you, guys.”

He took a deep breath and opened the doors.

There she is. Abby. At once, she turned her head around, and at once,  dusky brown met ocean blue. She looks tired, her body a little weak, but she still gives him a wide smile that sends his heart swooping forward. Oh, he has it bad. 

“Ethan. Hey.” Abby welcomes him and pats at a seat on her bed. He, however, was hesitant to do so.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you...”

She rolls her eyes. “Ethan, I was stabbed, not hit by a truck. Now, be a good boy and sit on the bed.”

He does as he is asked, sitting on the edge, eyes never leaving hers. “How do you feel?”

“My side’s kinda sore, but I’ll survive... How are you?” she asks hesitantly.

“W-What do you mean?” he stutters. Ethan Ramsey never stutters.

“...I know who the perpetrator is, Ethan.” So she does know.

Before Ethan can say anything, Abby replies. “I know you are blaming yourself for what your mother did. But I will say it again and again until it gets through that smart head of yours. It’s not your fault, do you hear me?”

His eyes are shining with tears, his heart all the way up to his throat.

“Abby... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He blinks, and a droplet fails to stay in his eyes, escaping from the confinement.

The young resident suddenly sits up, wincing a little at the abrupt movement. Her eyes are full of alarm.  “Ethan, c'mere.”

And he does. He hugs her tight, mindful of her side, his nose nuzzling his neck. Abby wraps her arms around him and strokes his hair. The motion gives him a sense of peace. His eyes drop a few more tears. I will tell her.

“Abby, I love you.” She tenses. Before she says anything, he cuts her off. 

“No, Abby, please listen to me. I’ve loved you since the first day you’ve stepped foot into this hospital. I love how you’re always a colossal pain in my ass. I love how your eyes sparkle every time you hear good news. I love how your dimples pop up when you smile. I love how you bite your lip when you think about something. I love everything about you. Your courage. Your admiration. Your passion. I love you body. I love you face. And i now know, that I never want to let you go again.”

When Ethan pulls back and cups her face, he can see the tears glistening, failing to hold still and dropping down onto her cheeks. She half-sobs and half-laughs.

“Ethan, I love you, too.” And that is all he needs to hear.

He kisses her cold lips gently and pulls back, finding his sense of relief. She, in return, kisses his forehead. He promises to himself one thing: he’ll never let her go again.

______________________________________________________________

Seb’s POV

Seeing them crying of happiness makes him smile, his heart feeling elevated with joy. They deserve this joy. They both’ve been through a lot lately, and confessing their love for each other was their first step towards recovery.

“Psst! Seb!” Amma. Behind her is Naveen.

“How is it going there?”

The surgeon smiles triumphantly. “Our plan worked.”

Quiet cheers came out of their mouths. 

“Finally!” Naveen sighs. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for months. Ethan’s too damn stubborn for his own good.”

Seb laughs quietly. “That he is.”

Amma scratches his wool sweater. He just realized the feeling of itch on his skin because of the wool. And he can’t wait to take it off. But they won’t be leaving Abby’s room for the next two days. Not him, at least.

“Will it be alright if we go in and interrupt them?” Amma asks hesitantly. “I have an urge to hug my daughter after the incident.’

“I am sure that will be alright.”

Amma knocks the door. After hearing an acknowledgment, all three of them walked in. 

“Hi Ethan, is it alright if I hug my daughter? I do not mean to waste any of your-”

Ethan looks at her incredulously. “Why would you ask me if you want to hug your own daughter? I don’t mind at all.”

The famous doctor looks at Seb with a questioning look, who shrugs.

Mother rushes forward and hugs Abby carefully, sobbing as she kisses al of her face. The resident sighs.

“Amma, look at me.” Abby forces Jazmin’s face to her. “I. Am. Fine.”

“Sorry, Ladoo, your mother was just very worried when we got the call. I won’t try to cry, alright?”

The Chacko smiles easily. “now that’s what I wanted to hear from you. My Amma is strong.”

Abby sighs and looks at Seb and Naveen, smiling cheerily. “Who’s next in line for cuddles?”

Seb comes forward, finally at ease when he kisses her forehead gently. He hugs her as tight as he can, the injury preventing him for hugging her more. 

“Please, for the love of Pete, please never scare us like that again.”

She laughs lightly and cuddles closer to him. “I’ll try not to.”

Seb looks up and sees Ethan with a light smile on his face. He finally feels light, free.

He then hears Jazmin’s stomach grumble lightly. Abby laughs hearing this. “Why did you guys not eat? All of you need to get food. Now.”

“I’m not gonna leave you this time around,” he replies. 

Seb’s sister groans. “I knew you would say that.”

The surgeon has an idea. “How about I get all of us some burgers from a nearby restaurant? Since I doubt Ethan’s gonna like what he gets from the cafeteria.”

The famous attending shrugs and then grins easily. “You know me so well.”

“Only for you.”

Abby is on a strict water diet for two days, so he considers buying a cup of chocolate pudding for her. As he leaves the room, he sees Naveen hugging Abby, which brought some emotions to the Chacko. Naveen is like the father he never had before.

Seb is really joyous and filled with triumph at the love confessions between Abby and Ethan. He only wishes it could happen to him.

But it can’t. Because he lost the love of his life last year. Due to a seizure. While she was giving birth. All of their promises. All of their hopes and dreams. Gone. Forever 

I miss her... I miss her a lot.

Suddenly, he hears a whistle. A familiar whistle. It sounds like her. 

When she was alive, they used to whistle a lot. it was a form of their communication. The whistle that heard now was a way of saying, “Turn around.”

No, Seb, he thinks. You’re just letting yourself get too emotional. Stop hallucinating.

But then he hears it again. And it’s behind him. A little far away from him. 

He’s afraid to turn around. He can’t move. 

He forces himself to turn around, like the whistle had told him to.

And then he sees her. He sees her. He actually sees her.

No way, it can’t be... Suddenly, Seb speaks.

“...Dolores? Is that really you?”

She smiles. That smile. He missed that damn smile. Her face and hands are covered with small bruises.

And she talks. “Yeah, Seb. It’s me. Dolores Hudson. I’m alive. I really am.”

______________________________________________________________

Mystery Man’s POV

I give Louise some cash that she was looking forward to. 

“Great, thanks!” she says with a smile.

“Anything for my wife,” I reply, with an emphasis on the word ‘wife’.

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, don’t call me that. I married you to destroy them, not to love you. Now where’s that manicure you promised?”

Louise is annoying as hell. Sometimes I wonder how her former husband Alan dealt with her. What a man, I think. 

She gives me a mischievous grin. “Now give me a kiss.”

I groan, and I quickly give her a kiss, not wanting it to last for long.

Then, I feel a vibration in my pocket. It’s my phone. I pick it up.

It’s one of my guards. And I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I bark him an order. Blood rushes through my veins, and for the first time in a long time, I feel fear.

I hang up the phone and look at Louise, whose eyes held confusion. I decide to answer her questioning glance.

“Missing captive alert. Dolores Hudson has escaped.”

______________________________________________________________

a/n 2: hope you liked that ending!

a/n 3: i know dolores died of a seizure while under an emergency c-section, but in this au, i refuse to believe so :)

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