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cannibalisation · 3 months ago

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not a lot, just forever

poly wolfstar/fem!reader

it doesn’t take much to keep yourself safe, yet it is still a challenging task for most. surrounding yourself with those who maintain warmth seems to do the trick, luckily you have remus and sirius, and they have you. (3.4k)

caution. injuries following lycan transformations, remus uses a walking cane, mentions of sirius’ family, gore/blood(?), bullying, reader has a bird animagi form.

i’m new to the marauders fandom and have limited knowledge, sorry for any character inaccuracies.

sewn together.

ONE of the window latches in the Gryffindor boy��s dormitory was broken. Fortunately, it’s the window right by Remus’s bed. A playful mishap between the group of them caused a book to go flying at it, shattering one of the glass panels. The window was repaired with a spell Peter had cast, but he was never able to mend the bolt. That's what makes it easy to sneak in when it’s past curfew.

Remus lies atop the covers tonight; he only managed to shuffle the pants of his nightwear on. The plaid shirt was thrown haphazardly on the crest of his bed frame. Faint lines of gauze wrapped around his torso are visible beneath his chalk-white polo shirt. They’re stained with a muffled red; he must’ve bled quite heavily.

The matron healer did an exquisite job as per usual. Neat fastenings of bandages; his wounds were clean. Though you would’ve preferred if Madam Pomfrey tried a little bit harder to convince Remus to stay the night in the hospital wing.

This month's full moon was one of the hardest for some reason; you have an inkling that your presence was a contributing factor. Remus usually insists that you should stay far away from him when he changes, and he didn't even intend on revealing his lycanthropy, but Sirius persuaded him to change his mind.

As soon as the truth came to light about his furry friend, you immediately urged him to let you help—in any way possible. The two of them were very strict regarding the routine, and in turn, you were very understanding. Sirius had been extremely reliant on your aerodynamic abilities, as your Animagus form held avian qualities.

Remus was still on the fence about it, but with a few honeyed words and gentle (manipulative more so) kisses from you and Sirius, he was convinced. The transformation process created significant agitation, which only increased in intensity over the course of the week.

He was clearly more possessive than usual, but you'd be lying if you said it wasn't entertaining. Neither you nor Sirius complained about Remus's insatiable want for affection; the two of you were never to be out of his sight. It was especially difficult during the day due to your separate schedules; after supper, you were confined to his dorm room.

It was abnormal for the quiet boy you’ve grown to love to act in such a way. More often than not, it was more common for Sirius to act like this, treating public displays of affection like he would a new toy he got for Christmas. That’s what was most likeable about him; he was irrevocably himself. Remus was the opposite; they both stabilised one another nicely.

Often it was like you were intruding, that you didn’t fit in as well as they did. A whiff of these thoughts, and they were quick to dismiss any negative feelings, and that was greatly appreciated. A balanced scale needs its anchor after all.

Much to your delight, James and Peter did not make themselves at home in the boys dorm—they must’ve both been warming someone’s bed tonight.

You have a vague idea of where James might be, but Peter leaves you in mystery. For all you know, he could be sneaking around with a Slytherin or two; that sounds like something he’d do anyway.

Sirius is curled up in his own bed opposite Remus’. He watches with a soft look as you sit yourself down beside the injured boy. Much to your dismay, he had stayed in such a position as you attempted to crawl through the open window, chuckling quietly to himself at your struggles.

Remus shivers as your hand brushes his mousy-brown curls before settling against it. How soft he looks when he’s like this.

“He’s been asking for you in his sleep.” Sirius whispers, toying with the chequered quilt he lays beneath. You give Remus a once-over before looking back at the other boy. Sirius smiles lightly when that happens and pulls back the blanket so it sits just above his ribs.

An invitation; he wants you to join him in his bed. And you desperately want to, but Remus needs you. Amidst his sleep, he blindly searches for your hand, and you comply by locking your fingers with his.

The small tick in his brow soothes over, and he hums contentedly when you brush your forefinger against his palm.

“He’s been saying your name.”

Your free hand finds purpose in Remus’ hair once more. “Cute, does he say yours?”

“No. I think it’s because he knows I’m here already. Perhaps I’ll ask him when he wakes up.” He taunts. Locking eyes again, you give him a humoured glare in disappointment. Of course he’d tease Remus about mindless sleep talks.

One time, in a fit of anger, you had cast a spell in the general direction of Severus Snape (he had spoken ill of a fellow house member; what else were you supposed to do?). The dunce had managed to move out of the way just in time, causing the spell to hit Professor Flitwick.

With a fresh pair of stag antlers perched on his head, the professor took away fifteen points from Gryffindor. It was a brief reprimand; still, Sirius has yet to let you live it down. He still makes jokes about it with James to this day.

“I beg to differ.” Remus interrupts; he must’ve been awoken by the playful conversation. “I just don’t really like you.” He jokes, grazing his nimble fingers along the surface of your linked hands.

Sirius scoffs before tugging at his blanket, pulling it up over his head so he can hide beneath it. “That is a lie; you love me, Moons.” His voice is muffled from underneath the quilt.

Chuckling quietly, you continue to brush through Remus’ hair. He had always been appreciative of such services; often you could be found with your hands perched in his curls.

Sirius instead preferred when you played with his hands. Fiddling with the brass and silver rings that decorate his lithe fingers always makes his heart grow fonder.

You were prone to favouring back scratches, but you’d never tell them that.

You lean downwards and press a small kiss to his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now. The madam gave me a Calming Draught and then I fell asleep.” He said slowly, observing you with a loving look that would make anyone’s heartbeat stutter. “What about you? Didn’t frighten you too much, did I?” You shake your head; he could never scare you.

From the corner of your eye, you see Sirius rolling around in his bedsheets. With an exaggerated huff, he throws the covers off and flicks at his hair with one hand. He must be bothered by the lack of attention from the both of you.

He turns his head and squints at you with faux anger, and you have half the mind to laugh in his face. Not a good idea, though; it would probably make him more annoying.

Then he leaps from the confines of his bed with such haste it makes Remus flinch. He rolls from his bed and lands on the rugged ground. He continues to roll over until he reaches the foot of Remus’ bed. Now the whole room is lightened with soft laughter. Remus decides to stick out his free hand to dangle it over the edge of the bed.

Like a dog with a bone, Sirius grabs a hold of it and entwines his fingers with Remus’.

Every full moon will be hard; Remus knows that much. The process will never get easier to recover from; it will always eat at him. But so long as he has the two of you with him, he might be okay.

bears the weather

Winter break was never easy for Sirius Black. Normally, he’d choose to stay on school grounds for the holidays. You’d often stay too, out of solidarity, and Remus would always bring treats back from his family home in Wales.

This year, though, Sirius had been owled a letter from his mother, instructing him to come home over the break.

He didn’t want to, that much you could tell. Sirius did not cry when he said that he would not be at Hogwarts for this year's Christmas holiday, but his eyes did gloss over, and his voice was terribly shaky.

He became dismissive throughout the last week of classes; you were not able to comfort him in the way you had hoped to—for how are you to comfort a boy unloved?

He didn’t contribute to many conversations on the train ride back to King’s Cross Station; Remus had told you not to worry, but even he looked dejected.

Sirius had briefly embraced you and Remus and claimed that he would write to the both of you. With a forlorn gaze, you watched as he and his younger brother made their way from the platform.

A total of three letters, marked with the wax sigil of House Black, were delivered to your doorstep. How fitting that the owl that did so was ebony in feathers, a clear indicator of its keeper. The beast had tried biting at your fingers when it let go of the envelope.

On the contrary, fourteen letters with Remus’ name smudged on the top were sent to your house by post.

There were a couple of days during the winter break when you met up with Remus and some of your mutual friends. You had a joyous time ice-skating and drinking hot chocolate on Christmas Eve. An invite was sent to Sirius on both of your parts, but much to your grief, he did not show. It was lovely seeing and spending time with Remus, but it was clear that the both of you felt as if something was missing.

Before you knew it, school was back, so were the uniforms and casted spells. The spring term always went by quickly, though the tension between the three of you was stifling. Sirius had been cold for the first week back; it was like the winter weather had made its home in his form.

Though he gradually warmed up, there was something unusual about it. A strain in his shoulders or a furrow in his brow that had yet to settle, even when he slept. It ate at your heart that you couldn’t seem to figure out how to help him. Others were starting to notice too.

“Hey, is Pads doing alright?”

Lily Evans, ever the gentle soul. It comes as no surprise that she was worried. You pause at her question, inked quill hovering over the smudged parchment.

“He’s fine. I suppose.”

“Have you spoken to him much? I’ve only ever seen him at dinner time or in class.”

You shake your head quietly and keep your gaze fixed on the paper. She is right after all. Sirius spends most of his time holed up in the dorm room, and no, you haven’t really had the chance to speak with him. Most of the time he’d be right with you now. In the library, studying for exams—or more so distracting you from studying.

He isn’t, though; today it's just you and Lily sitting at a lone table in an alcove, hidden behind the many towering shelves of books.

Although you can’t see it from where your gaze is fixed, the inquiring gaze of Lily Evans is harsh against your neck.

“It’s just—” you start, strangling the feather quill with vigour. “I don’t know what to say. He’s struggling, that's clear, but I don’t know how to help him.” Such a stuttered confession makes you feel sick to your stomach. It’s something to do with Lily’s ambience that makes you go soft. She smiles delicately at your apparent demise.

“Maybe you don’t need to say anything? Just let him know, in any way you can, that you're there. For him.”

“You’d serve as a mighty fine therapist if this witch thing doesn’t work out for you, Lilyflower.” You mutter with a half-hearted smile. The russet-haired girl only hums with a small grin and turns back to her own parchment. “You’re lucky I’m not charging you for my wise words of wisdom.”

You ponder Lily’s words on the lone journey back to the Gryffindor common room.

Sirius Black was not a fragile individual, a quality that is quick to be learned. He was undeniably a brave soul; he didn’t let much get to him. The topic of his family, the noble and most ancient house of Black, was an arduous one; he could hardly speak their names without choking up. You and Remus knew this well and made sure not to bring them or even your own families up in conversation.

It was a good few years ago that you had first been acquainted with Walburga Black. It was a short introduction when you were in your youthful age, therefore, you don’t remember much. Regardless, even in your earliest of life, did you realise that she wasn’t the kindest of people. Her eyes had frightened you the most, beady and almost pitch-black. They scanned over you like a predatory animal would when it spots its prey.

That moment was all it took to notice the animosity she held for most. Sirius’ eyes were similar in colour, but they were so much more gentle.

When Remus told you that he had never met Sirius' family before, you promised yourself that if you could, you would protect him from them and any other pure-blood zealot.

Your eyes lock with James Potter’s as soon as you walk in through the portrait door. Somehow he is all-knowing and nods his head in the direction of the stairs leading up to the boys dorm rooms. Nodding back to him in gratitude, you make your way up the creaky steps posthaste.

Remus is sitting upright on his twin-sized bed, watching over a curled-up Sirius. He glances up at you with melancholic eyes and gives you a small smile.

You approach Sirius' bed quietly and take in the pile of blankets and pillows there. He observes as you sit down next to Remus, having only his face visible from underneath. To your delight, Sirius appears to be more content than he has been in a long time. His head rests on one of the cushions, his dark curls strewn about. You gently hush him when he stirs under the warmth of the covers.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, leaning your head on Remus’ shoulder. “I’m here.”

Yes, Sirius thinks. You’re here.

sheds her feather

Muggles would never know the true rapture of flying. Sure, they could board a plane and take to the skies—but it would never feel the same as spreading your wings in the breeze.

Each sliver of wind could be felt in your feathers, urging you to go faster, higher, forever. Though you’d never say it aloud, you’ve thought on many occasions to just spend the rest of your life in the sky.

You’ve always been a curious child. At least that's what Mother had believed, especially since you had snatched a coin purse from someone as a child and given it to her when you heard her gripe about money on the phone. She had been horrified and gave you a slap on the wrist in return.

Her reaction did not ail you; often your closest companions are gifted something shiny in appearance.

Sirius was ecstatic when he was gifted an argentate ring engraved with a wolf signet, and Remus embraced you warmly with a soft kiss when you handed him a sterling silver novella bookmark—it had a small etching of a dove bird on it; you thought he’d appreciate it most.

In a hasty manoeuvre, you land on a railing of the Astronomy Tower. With a ruffle of midnight-black feathers, it returns you to your natural form.

The transformations have gotten much better than what they were originally. The first time you ever attempted it, you crashed into a tree and broke your wrist. That hadn’t been an easy one to explain to Madam Pomfrey.

A shot of pain saddles up your leg, causing you to gasp loudly in shock and crumble to the floor.

It was foolish to assume the flimsy bandaging you had done was adequate enough to halt the bleeding.

The linen wrapped around your leg was stained with a bright crimson, nothing too bad to worry the nurses about it though.

The most recent Quidditch game was won by Gryffindor; the losing team, Slytherin, was obviously not pleased with the results. A group of students had managed to corner you right after classes had finished for the day, and they must've been searching around for something to burn their energy off on. Unfortunately, that just happened to be you.

The Diffindo charm was not often used out of malice, but that didn’t seem to stop this particular Slytherin boy. The slash was embedded deep enough into the skin of your leg, causing a significant amount of blood. The cruel group of seventh-years draped in green ran off before you could react properly.

As luck would have it, you managed to sneak into the hospital wing undetected and quietly bandage yourself up. A clatter of objects from behind a curtain had spooked you enough into transforming and flying out an open window.

The pain in your leg had majorly subsided whilst in Animagi form; perhaps the wind has healing properties.

But now as you were crouched over in the tower, it’s clear that is not the truth of it.

A clamour of footsteps sounds out in the winding tower, and you attempt to transform again. To no avail, as the pain is too much to bear, so instead you brush back your uniform skirt as it had ridden up.

Sirius makes himself present with a whistle; Remus shakes his head as he trails after him. The wooden cane that he’s taken recent use to creaking under his form.

“We saw you flying overhead when we were walking back from Herbology.” Sirius confirms with a grunt as he sits down cross-legged. It was common for you to take off from the tower as it was the highest point in Hogwarts and generated the most adrenaline.

“Thought we could beat you here, but no, you’re just too fast!” He praises.

Remus manages to sit down as well, without any help. You nod in compliment, trying to mask the pain in your leg. Sirius doesn’t notice the way your face screws up as he drones on about class, but like always, Remus does—probably some weird werewolf gene.

“You alright, love?” He intervenes, Sirius stops talking for a moment. A hum leaves your throat; a bit too enthusiastically. Words are not reliable right now.

Remus is clearly unconvinced, and Sirius casts a suspicious look your way. With a sigh of defeat, your hands grip the edge of the skirt and lift it slightly, just to show the dribbles of dried blood on your leg. Sirius’ breath hitches in his throat, and Remus looks at the scene with growing exasperation.

“What—Who did this to you?” Demanded Sirius as he moved to pull higher at your skirt. “No one, nothing, I mean. I just—” You start, but Sirius continues on.

“Don’t lie to me; you’re not this clumsy.” A laugh escapes you, but even that brings a twinge of pain. Remus shuffles through his leather satchel that holds his study books.

He’s had to get a lot more creative regarding how he routines his life, now that he has to walk with an aid. Sirius was more than kind enough to gift him the costly satchel, much to Remus’ humbleness.

He pulls out a roll of gauze, and you can’t help but grace him with a lukewarm smile. Always the caretaker he is, Remus Lupin.

Sirius grabs the roll at breakneck speed and huffs drearily as he unravels your previous work. “You need to go to Poppy; I can’t do very well with this.”

Shaking your head in quiet disagreement, you watched as he wrapped fresh gauze around your leg.

Remus leans over and brushes one of his forefingers against your cheek. With a soft pout, you cast a shy gaze at him from beneath your eyelashes. His eyes are always so soft when he looks at you.

Sirius always teases him for it but gets equally as giddy whenever Remus gives the same look to him. He acts indifferent to it all the time, but there is no denying that his eyes are any less mellow.

He finishes by tying the fabric into a knot at the innermost point of the thigh, warmth rising to your face at the closeness.

“Going to let us help you now?” Remus asks. It’s a rhetorical question but you still search for an answer. Regardless, you nod your head at the question.

They can help you, always.

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diejager · 1 year ago

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hii!! just so you understand, I have real brainrot because of your “Only Human” series! I love it madly tenderly and with all my heart😭😭 anyway, I saw that you have requests open, but feel free to ignore if this is not the case or I indicated something incorrectly. how about our favorite monsters and hybrids 141 with a new member of the team who is a witch??

also, sorry for my english, I use google translate☠️

Hey, no worries, I understood your request!

Spell Cw: witchy stuff, death, murder, drowning, blood and injury, fluff, magic, inaccurate understanding of magic, tell me if I missed any.

He always found it mesmerising, the soothing coldness of your spell working its magic on him, gleaming like water embracing his bleeding wound, the skin ripped apart at the middle and flesh throbbing painfully. It wasn’t anything new, pain wasn’t a stranger to him, rather a friend, a brother to him. Pain was a repetitive thing in his life, wound after wound bleeding him, and scar after scar painting his skin, he’d gotten so used to it that the stripes on his face were now an integral part of his identity, pushing the facade of a tiger if he didn’t have his ears and tail out.

But with you, everything had smoothed over to a soft thrum, like the warm waves cradling his shifted body, your magic, attuned to their aches through your bond and being, worked to cure everything to ensure that the pack he grew to love and care for stayed safe. Your being was like a body of water - the ocean - a beauty of nature when calm, but a terror when enraged, storms crashing against land and causing devastation in moments of fury. You were as dangerous as you could be caring and loving —just like the sea.

“Why didn’t you come see me first?” You sighed, tone laced with amused disappointment, brows tensed but your pretty lips quipped up, “I thought I put you in control of this Horangi…”

You worked your magic on König, fingers weaving invisible threads over his bleeding forearm, pulling the strings of puppet of flesh and bone, controlling the sinuous fibre of his skin to sew itself back. Horangi watched his friend’s wound steadily close up, injury shrinking with every pull of your finger until all that was left was the lingering scent of your cool magic and the metallic odour of blood.

“König is stubborn, ” Horangi chuckled, flashing you a sly smirk despite your exasperated expression, “Big too. I can’t move him.”

“And I can?” You scoffed, finishing off your skin weaving with a soft pet on his arm, letting König admire your work like a child with a new toy even though you’d gone through the same process over and over in the past, König had a habit of collecting scars as often as he toppled his enemies.

Your magic wasn’t only used in healing, you were an adaptive soul, your comfort found itself in water, and water meant life, and life meant whatever violent fury came along with quiet calmness. And in the right situation, where Laswell sent the Task Force on a boat or by the shore, you could level the oceans at your will in anger or protection. You gave men and women a watery grave on land, drowning them in their water-made coffins to stop them from reaching your wounded comrades, glaring off at anyone who tried approaching your cover .

You had Gaz, Price and him, tending to their deeper injuries and letting them use their first aid while you kept the enemy at bay, lower lip pulled between your teeth, gnawing on the skin until it bled. Separating your attention for both healing and defence/offence demanded a lot of concentration, especially when you were sewing up Price’s deep gash on his leg, listening to his hiss and groans of pain.

“Fucking-” Horangi busied himself with wrapping the bandage and gauze over Gaz’s wound, his eyes occasionally peeking at your clenched fist that pushed out your anger through the waters you controlled, “Bastards keep coming.”

You were a puppet queen and the sea your mannequin.

“Almost done, Hunter,” Gaz hissed out when Horangi pulled too tightly on his bandage, sending you a reassuring look to calm down your raised hackle, teeth bared and eyes burning the enemies alive as much as you were depriving them of air.

This was another show of your prowess, your fingers puppeteering water, commanding it and coaxing the water’s will to follow your call, heeding your every whim. It was a majestically show, as tragic as it was beautiful, much like the cleansing of the world when the oceans flooded Earth, leaving but Noah and his wife, and couple of animals to remake the land. You were remaking the land you fought on in an imagine, to make it safer and protect them —it would tire you out for the day, Horangi will ready to help you with anything wile you doze on and off.

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years ago

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not to be crazy but i think the first time his darling called him “husband” during sex clover came immediately and then spent like 20 min crying about it

[suggestive/very light smut, minors begone]

"Clover - you coming to bed soon?"

"In a moment, dear. Just finishing up."

The magician waits for the settle of the bed as you lay back down before snipping the excess string of the stitching over his heart, picking up a roll of bandages as he places the medical scissors in hand on the counter. He wraps the gauze around his torso twice over with a third binding for good measure. It really was a hassle, more nights than before now considering he had a lover. Nothing Clover had tried was able to seal the wound. Stitches of various patterns, patches and whatever cut of cloth deemed viable- all bled through by that eternal infliction within his heart. The only functional stopper was the dagger that had done him in. The ghastly sight disgusted him before, but now it only reminds him of how times had changed for the better.

Though his heart had been torn to shreds in the physical sense, it and his broken soul had been mended by the simple comfort of another to share his bed with. Clover wipes at the mirror, staring deeply at his reflection. A man once without a love now a beast with so much he'd die for good at its lost. How could such a face catch the eye of someone as magnificent as you?

Somwhere, his ears catch the faint rustle of fabric. Clover's eyes dart to the bathroom door as an article of clothing hits the tile.

"What a spacious bed. If only I had a certain rabbit to take up some of the room."

"Ah - I'll be there shortly, my love." Clover gathers up his supplies and crams them into the medicine cabinet before dropping to pick up the fallen cloth. His face burns red; fur frizzled as he smoothes the soft fabric in his hands realizing it to be your underwear. The rabbit hops to his feet, flicking off the bathroom light as he barrels into the bedroom. You sit up as he makes his way over to the bed, pressed back against the headboard as his lips meet yours - fingers gripping the hip of your night shirt.

You giggle, roused to laughter by his fluff as he kisses at your neck. "If I had known this was going to be your reaction, I would've done that sooner."

Clover freezes like a deer in headlines; ears twitching with a nervous tic. "I.. I'm sorry, did I keep you waiting too long? A-am I going too fast? This is all so new and I suppose all the excitement just makes me a little..."

Clover yelps as you bring your hands up to his face. " I'm just messing with you. There's no rush, Clover so just take it easy."

The rabbit melts as your warm thumb strokes over his cheek. How serene every waking second with you was. His ever present fears and anxieties washes right away spending mere seconds in your arms. Clover sighs, placing a palm over your left - tracing the cold metal wrapped around your finger.

"I'm aware, it's just... being with you is such a wonderful experience, Angel. I'd hate for there to be any reason you didn't feel the same."

"If I didn't, I probably wouldn't be sitting here half naked in your bed. Now, you gonna kiss me again or -"

You didn't need to tell Clover thrice. Clover kisses you, gently lowering his weight atop you as he supports your back with one hand. You help undo his belt as he rolls your shirt up to your chest, marveling at your breathtaking image through lidded eyes. He could never find himself getting used to the sight - falling in love all over again everytime you give him more to behold.

Clover whines into your chest, squeezing the back of your neck as he presses in deep. He fancied himself the type to treat his love as the treasure they were, but finally having you in his grasp he couldn't control himself. He swore another night he'd give you everything you do deserved. A dreamy smile spreads across his face your fingers lock together. You weren't technically wed just yet, but how he heart leapt being able to claim you as his spouse now. In the dead of night, the word slipped from his lips as you held each other dear. It was magical.

Clover rocks into you slow, cherishing the heat your body gives as he imagines the night of your official commune. Holding you - like this, hours after your vows of everlasting devotion. He'd lean in, whispering ever so softly. "What has someone like I done to desire a spouse as wonderful as you?'

Clover flushes. He didn't mean to say that aloud. To his surprise, you lock your arms around his neck sporting a dazed smile of your own - stealing his heart for the billionth time as you speak.

"Dunno. What did I do to get such a loving husband?"

"H-husband?..." His ears fall flat; a whimper caught in his throat as tears cloud his vision. Your husband - him. It was too much to bare. An angel, his dear gift from above - choosing him of all beings. His spouse to have, to love, to...

"F-uck..." Clover pants, gripping the sheets as he bottoms out inside you, spilling deep as he buries himself in your warmth. He fucks lazily into you, energy spent - but determined to ride his high to completion. He shutters, pulling out as he picks his tired body off of you. The euphoria fades, and shame overtakes as his cum leaks out onto the satin sheets.

"Stars, I... I usually don't- I didn't mean to- I was going to pull out I just-"

Clover gasps - tearducts reaching compacity as he throws himself towards the end of the bed covering his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm an awful husband. I don't even deserve to be the one who can call you his spouse."

You shoot up from the mattress as he wails, throwing a comforting arm over his shoulder. "Clover - Clover, it's okay. Don't say that about yourself over something like this."

Clover wipes at his eyes. "But... but, I failed you as a husband...."

"No you didn't. You just got a little excited, that's all. I love you, Clover - and this doesn't change anything."

You press a kiss to his tear soaked fur as Clover brings his hands down to his chest. Moments like this remind him of one of the best things about being married. Loving your soul mate through faults and all. Yours only made you more perfect in his eyes. He wondered if it was the same for you.

Clover rubs his nose against your hand. "S-still... I feel bad. Is there anyway I can make this up to you?"

"There's nothing for you to make up for, but if you really want to..." His eyes widen as you guide his head between your thighs, throwing a leg over his shoulder. "I think here would be a good start."

Clover paws at your thighs, gripping them to pull you closer to his face as tongue licks at your sex and his release. Here was a much better placement for him and he prayed with all his tattered heart you'd be able to take all that he was so willing and eager to give.

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere #soft yandere #yandere drabble #♣️ my oc #yandere smut

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thewhumpcaretaker · 3 days ago

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⛑ adelais PLEASEEEEE

It’s mostly comfort but I ended up making him sad at the end because that’s just what felt right. He thinks he wants comfort but is too mad at himself to accept it, soooo…

CW: mild self-punishment

“Let’s just get this over with.” Adelais’ voice sounds raspy. But his bandages need changing, and he’s too tired to resist. The best he can do is add, “Try not to prod at it, will you? Some of the people who call themselves nurses…” he mutters under his breath.

The prince slumps down in a chair and leans his head back to expose his throat. It’s covered in seeping red. He’s been carrying part of the curse all day, which means it has bled through his bandages onto that starched white collar. Good thing he can afford a new one. He braces, expecting you to pull roughly at the buttons as the servants often do, but you’re very gentle. You start to unwind the gauze and he lets out a little exhale of relief as its chafing pressure falls away.

Infection isn’t a concern, at least not for the wound itself. It doesn’t seem capable of getting infected, thanks to Ievenar’s perfect control over his pain levels. Still, it’s best for Adelais not to have blood all over him. You wipe it away with a soft cloth dipped in warm water, going over his lower neck and collarbone, being careful not to disturb the wound itself. It feels so nice…he tilts towards your touch without realizing it.

Now it’s time for the most painful part. He tenses up again, but still, you do your best not to make this hurt. As the bandage makes contact with the wound, he swears quietly and closes his eyes. He stays like that while you wind it around his neck once, twice… Every time he winces, you pause, letting him adjust to the sensation. And every time, he blushes with embarrassment at all the consideration you’re taking. You might really have managed to get through this without causing a single unnecessary moment of discomfort.

You’re almost done when he demands, “Why are you coddling me? You're taking forever.” Before you can answer, he smacks your hand away and takes over. “Forget it. It’s done. Go.” As you’re walking away, he tucks the end of the bandage into place roughly. The wave of pain that follows sends him gasping.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he pressed on it on purpose.

#Aaaaaaaa thank you for being nice to him!! 💖#Poor thing is too lost in self-punishment though. You truly can't win.#oc adelais von korsaivar #🝊 curse in two bodies 🝊

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summerwritesfics · 3 months ago

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🍔You’re Loveable, So Loveable But You’re Just Troubled

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang/Harumi Hasashi Length: 2252 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Canon Divergence, Angst, Changing Sheets, Domestic, Trauma, Recovery, Blood and Injury, Blood, Injury Recovery @anyfandomgoesbingo: Fresh Sheets

Summary: Kuai Liang accidentally get’s blood over his bedsheets, and worries what Hanzo & Harumi’s reaction will be.

AFG Mixed Bingo Masterlist

Notes: This is the last oneshot I have in my backlog Whoooo!! That means everything else I need to post is chapters to longfics! It’s genuinely gonna feel so good to finally be free of this backlog. Also when this was originally intended to be posted, unfortunately a family emergency came up and I wasn’t able to finish editing. 😅 So if the editing is a bit all over the place, I’m sorry it’s was a rough 24 hours lol. Title is from I Am Not A Robot by Marina.

Kuai groaned as he stirred. His face absolutely was killing him, but maybe if he asked Harumi nicely enough she would let him have another painkiller today. He’d been good, and not asked for a few days. The Lin Kuei would have never given them to him, no matter how badly he was hurt, so he didn’t wish to push his luck.

Just because the Hasashi’s had been nice to him so far, it didn’t mean he could just let his guard down.

As he pushed himself to sit up, he realised the bandage that had been covering his face had come loose in the night. He sighed, pulling its remains off. He would be able to replace it soon anyway. As the gauze pulled away, he blinked, slowly opening both his eyes. His vision on his right side was still blurred, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever get his full vision back in it.

He felt something drip down his chin and he paused.

Reaching a hand to his wound, he winced from the sting, and as he brought it in front of his face, he saw blood covering his fingers. Clearly he’d managed to reopen the injury in his sleep. He had been doing that a lot lately, it was no wonder Hanzo was concerned it wouldn’t heal up correctly. Maybe he should have taken the offer of seeing a Doctor and getting stitches.

As he went to get up to deal with the issue, his eyes were drawn to a dark red spot on the pillow case.

He stopped breathing. The blood had seeped through his bandages and stained the case. And as his eyes trailed down, not just the pillow case. The bed sheets were covered in large splatters of red. Blood everywhere. It almost looked like someone had been murdered.

He had no idea how he’d gotten so much blood everywhere, or even how the injury had bled that much in the night. And somehow, any concern he should have had over his own injury was overshadowed by one single thought.

Harumi-San is going to kill me.

If there was one thing he’d learnt about Harumi since he’d started living with the Hasashi’s, it was that she was very house proud. Everything tended to be orderly and neat. She definitely would not appreciate her sheets being left in such a state.

What the hell am I going to do?

He couldn’t even begin to come up with a plan before there was a soft knock on the door, followed by it opening. He turned around in time to see Harumi slowly make her way in.

“Good morning, Kuai Liang, I just wanted to-” Her friendly morning greeting was cut off when she actually saw the state of Kuai and the bed. She muttered something in Japanese, abandoning whatever she was previously about to say as she hurried to Kuai’s side. “Oh. Oh goodness. Sweetheart, what happened?”

“I- I’m sorry.” He immediately went into overdrive. Every mistake he’d ever made played out in his head, with the following punishments from the Lin Kuei Grandmaster. Harumi wasn’t him, but no amount of telling himself that could stop the memories and that fear of failure resurfacing. “I- I know I’ve ruined your sheets. I’ll clean them, I’ll get them sorted, I-”

“My sheets?” Harumi questioned, close enough now that she could cup Kuai’s chin. “Sweetie, I’m talking about you. Your injury reopened.”

“My… oh.” He reached his hand to the wound, wincing in pain as his fingers found the opening. When he pulled them back, there was fresh blood on them, he was still bleeding quite profusely.

“Come here,” Harumi softly ordered, taking Kuai’s hands in her own, and gently pulling him to his feet.

She led him to the door, and through the corridor. Hanzo walked out of the bathroom just seconds before Harumi and Kuai reached it. His head jerked like he’d been taken unawares, but relaxed when he realised there was no danger. Or at least, he relaxed until he saw Kuai’s face, at which point his eyes widened and he bared his teeth.

He turned back to the bathroom, holding the door open so Harumi could usher Kuai Liang inside. They led him to a bench inside, sitting him on it. Hanzo was at the medicine cabinet, searching for the first aid kit, while Harumi was looking closely at his injury.

“What happened?” Hanzo asked, as he finally found the kit. He walked over, placing it beside Kuai Liang.

“I- I don’t know,” Kuai admitted, hanging his head low. “I woke up and it was like this.”

Harumi sighed hard, turning to Hanzo, “I don’t think we can keep going like this. He really needs stitches. We should go to Akemi.”

“I’ll bandage him up for now then, hopefully it’ll stop the bleeding a bit,” Hanzo replied, pulling out some padding and gauze. He held the padding up, measuring the amount he would need to cover the whole wound.

All three remained silent as Hanzo cut the padding, placing it over Kuai’s eye. Harumi held it in place as Hanzo grabbed the gauze, wrapping it around Kuai’s head a couple of times. Once satisfied he grabbed a pin to hold it in place for the time being. Both Hasashi’s pulled away, observing their work.

“That should hold,” Hanzo declared, brushing his hands together. “We should get to the doctors as soon as possible though.”

A strange cold came over Kuai Liang, white sheets covered in red in his mind's eye. He needed to deal with that before they left. If he could deal with it now, then maybe by the time they were done with the doctor’s, then they’d have forgotten about it and wouldn’t get as mad at him.

“Right, let’s-”

“No,” Kuai interrupted Harumi, whose face dropped in shock at how sharp his tone had been. “No. Not yet.”

“Kuai Liang, you need-”

“No,” Kuai hissed, pushing himself to stand and pushing past the couple towards the door. He made a mad dash towards his room again, grimacing at the unholy mess that waited for him. If he didn’t know what happened, he’d genuinely believe someone had been horrifically harmed here.

He made his way over to the bed, hands gripping the sheets as he began to try and yank them off the bed. It was a struggle, they kept getting caught on the corner’s. His hands were shaking, and he could feel his chest heaving. All he had to do was deal with this, then everything would be fine.

“Honey, honey,” Harumi called to him as she ran to his side. She tried to take his hands in her own, but he yanked them roughly from her. “That doesn’t matter, please.”

“It does matter,” Kuai insisted, once more trying to pull them off and making a strange strangled sound as he still couldn’t seem to fucking get them off. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you,” Harumi stated, shaking her head like she couldn’t understand where this was coming from.

“You will be though.” Kuai finally managed to get the sheet unstuck from the corner, bundling it up into his arms. “I fucked up! I always fuck up! And when I fuck up, I get…”

The word got caught in the back of his throat, so hard he almost choked on it. He stared down at the sheets in his arm, the blood staining them. How often had he bled on his sheets at The Lin Kuei temple? How often had he been screamed at for it? How useless was he if he couldn’t even do something as simple as keeping his bed sheets clean?

His breathing hitched. He really did not want the Hasashi’s to be as angry with him as The Lin Kuei used to get.

Harumi placed a hand over his, and he turned his head to look at her. He was equal parts relieved and devastated that the only emotion shining through her eyes was concern.

“Okay. Let’s deal with the sheets,” she softly said, taking them from Kuai’s arms. As she did so, Hanzo walked to the bed, pulling off the pillow case and throwing it over to her. “We’ll put fresh ones on, and then, can we please take you to the Doctor?”

Kuai paused, before slowly nodding. Harumi closed her eyes and nodded in return, before turning to take the sheets out of the room, presumably to set them to soak somewhere. Hanzo meanwhile was in the closet, pulling out fresh sheets to replace them with.

He shook it out, holding two corners, one in each hand. Kuai went to grab the other end of them. Hanzo took the head of the bed, while Kuai took the foot, holding them still as Hanzo hooked the sheet’s into the corners of the bed. Once they were secure, Kuai Liang took the chance to do the same to the ones he was holding. And like that, the deed was done. The bed was as good as new.

Hanzo grabbed a new pillow case, and as he began to shove the pillow inside, he asked “does that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” Kuai replied, although there was still nagging in his mind. The blood still needed to be cleaned off the old sheets. The realisation at how much work it would be to get them clean again would hit soon. “I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you but…”

“Kuai Liang,” Hanzo softly spoke, going to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I promise you, she’s not angry about this.”

“I always make people angry, eventually,” Kuai whispered, resigned to that fact in his life. He couldn’t remember a time when people didn’t eventually lose what little patience they had for him. Even Bi-Han lost his temper with Kuai on a frequent basis. There was maybe an exception with Tomas and Cyrax? He could remember them being slightly frustrated at times, but never outright furious. “And when I make people angry, I get hurt.”

“I do understand that after what you’ve been through, that you can’t just take my word, but I do hope one day you will trust us enough to know…” Hanzo took a deep breath. “I hope you will one day know there is nothing you could ever do to make us want to hurt you. One day, you will never have to fear anger, and be reassured that any that does bubble to the surface is temporary and will fade with time.” He took Kuai’s hands in his own, holding them to his chest. “You will see. When we return from the Doctor’s, nothing will happen and you will be fine. One day, we will heal the wounds they left you with, emotional and physical.” He kept Kuai’s hands with one hand, while the other cupped his cheek. “You deserve to live a life free of fear, Kuai Liang. And one day, you will live that life.” Hanzo smiled slightly. “And like a Phoenix, you will rise.”

Kuai felt himself choke up a little, he could feel tears welling in his eyes. “You… You really aren’t angry with me?”

“Not with you,” Hanzo assured him, thumb rubbing circles into his skin. “If anything, I am angry on your behalf, at those who shaped these fears inside you.” Kuai closed his eyes, nuzzling into Hanzo’s hand. He hated to admit it, but it did feel nice. “I wish life had been kinder to you, Kuai Liang. You did not deserve the agony you have faced.”

Kuai wasn’t sure how to reply to that. It was hard to not believe he deserved everything, when that was all he was ever told. Still, Hanzo spoke with such conviction that almost made Kuai doubt everything he’d been told. Maybe Hanzo was right, maybe he didn’tdeserve what The Lin Kuei did to him, maybe neither of them would be angry at him.

Maybe from the ashes that The Lin Kuei left of him, he could rebuild himself.

Like a phoenix.

He liked how that sounded.

“Thank you,” Kuai whispered, hoping he sounded as grateful as he was. One day, he’d find a way to repay the Hasashi’s for everything they’d done for him.

“Is everything okay?” Harumi’s voice called out, and when Hanzo and Kuai turned to look, she was standing in the doorway. The small smile on her face indicated she already knew everything was fine now.

“Yes, Harumi-San,” Kuai replied, bowing his head slightly. He felt ever so foolish for his previous behaviour. “I’m sorry that I was short with you. It was unfair of me to take out my anxieties on you.”

“I accept your apology,” she softly spoke, and for once, Kuai Liang actually let himself believe she was sincere. “Come on, let’s get that wound seen to, shall we?”

Kuai broke away from Hanzo’s hold, and began walking towards Harumi, Hanzo following behind him. Once he was close enough, Harumi took his hand, and something in the way she held onto him made it click that Hanzo was right about everything. Her touch was so gentle, like he was made of glass and she was terrified of breaking him. He let her guide him through the house and out the door, Hanzo staying just a few steps behind at all times.

Maybe I really don’t have to be afraid anymore.

#mortal kombat #subscorprumi #sub zero #kuai liang #scorpion #hanzo hasashi #harumi hasashi #harumi shirai #mk sub zero #mk kuai liang #mk scorpion #mk hanzo hasashi #mk harumi #🍔afg mixed bingo

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thuviel · 5 months ago

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I'm 1 week post op!

I had top surgery last week aaaaaaaaah!!!! FINALLY! It took so many years, so many delays, so many disasters that it felt like it would never happen. But I fucking made it! I got double incision mastectomy with nipple grafts. Gonna document the recovery a bit too if it's helpful to anyone c: So this is how the first week went:

Day 1

The most pain I had was immediately upon waking up, but after a while the nurses gave me more morphine and it was chill. I'd still rate the pain around like badly twisted ankle level pain, not too bad

Extremely sleepy, couldn't keep my eyes open for more than a few moments and slept pretty much the whole day

Got discharged from the clinic 3 ish hours after surgery

I didn't have drains, just a tight compression wrap around my chest

Day 2

Pain level was still very chill as long as I took my painkillers regularly

Biggest challenge was doing stuff without using my chest muscles or extending my arms much, going to the bathroom was the most difficult

Used both morphine and paracetamol this day

Eating and drinking was fine, just smaller portions at a time

Day 3-7

By far the worst days of recovery so far

Back and neck pain from weird sleeping positions was becoming more annoying and bothersome than the actual surgery wounds

I had some bleeding on day 3, the left nipple bled through the bandages and all the way to the compression wrap. I contacted the clinic but it wasn't a concerning amount of blood and it stopped on its own pretty quickly

I stopped with the morphine and just took paracetamol, which I decreased over the days as the pain levels went down

By the end of the week I started to get a tiny bit more movement in my upper body, still not extending my arms but things didn't feel as tight immediately when moving and doing stuff with my arms

Turns out I was allergic to the antibiotics they gave me, so I dealt with some horrible symptoms these days. It's not usually part of recovery but good to look out for in case it happens to anyone else too. I got very sleep deprived, could't sleep more than 1-2 hours at a time. I would wake up feeling extremely warm (but no fever), really nauseous, weak, heart beating fast and hard, terrible headache, sometimes feeling like I couldn't breathe properly. I only slept 3-4 hours per day. Also had some diarrhea and acid reflux. I was very weak and shaky, getting weaker and more dizzy as the days went on instead of getting better. Luckily I could stop taking them on day 7, which is when I learned I was allergic to them lol

Day 7

I had my one week appointment where they took off the innermost bandages and removed the sticthes keeping the gauze stuck to my nipples. Nurse said things were healing well, some swelling but not too much. My left nipple had gotten a bit less bloodflow and looked much darker, like a burned pepperoni. Nurse said it's not unusual and it still looks okay, it should regain bloodflow and improve on its own in the coming days

Got to take a full shower for the first time after this. It was terrifying af to have water and soap run over my very fragile looking newborn nipples lol, but it felt so fucking good to be clean

I could also take off the compression wrap and clean it which was a blessing bc that thing was disgusting by this time. I have to keep wearing it 24/7 for the first month but can take it off briefly to clean it

Despite the terrible antibiotics reaction, the recovery has been less difficult than I thought tbh. I expected worse. By far the most challenging thing for me personally is having to ask for help with every tiny little thing ^^' But already seeing such a flat look with my shirt on in the mirror is amazing!

#transition #transmasc #top surgery #elfy thoughts #i should have suspected something was off when the headaches were way more painful than the actual open wounds on my body lol #anyway im slowly feeling better now #it's only gonna get better and better from now on!#probably not gonna document every moment but just the most eventful parts #man i can't wait to do so much swimming in the furute :')#about me

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wolfoftheblackflames · 10 months ago

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Hello misfits! Your favorite sass master here with another fic! Well I've got several I'm working on but its been awhile since I've posted one to here eh? Enjoy!

Living through Hell: Hazbin Apocalypse AU Pt.1

“Reginald stop the car!” A female voice cried as the driver who was named Reginald looked back at his mistress briefly.

“Of course, Miss Morningstar!” He replied as he soon brought the large black truck to a skidding halt in front of a lone store. “I suggest hurrying, m'lady. we don't want to linger for too long with the hoarde of zombies nearby!” He watched as the tall blonde woman exited the 2015 Knight XV.

Out of the corner of her eye, the woman spotted a grey camo Hummer with wings painted on the hood and the letters U.S.H painted on the sides speeding off with two people laughing, flipping the building off. “Assholes..” She muttered but went inside since her radio picked up a distress call.

The building used to be what looked to be a sub fast food place named Hellway. The blonde looked around and spotted the back room with a trail of blood leading to it. “Shit, they might be hurt pretty bad…”

The groans of zombies outside made the woman move quickly and quietly as her black combat boots trekked along the broken debris. “Mierda…” She blinked hearing a voice. “Bet those fucks didn't notice I snagged their fucking radio, ammo, and supplies..”

A soft groan escaped the owner as they soon turned their head towards the door opening. “Oh shit… You look worse than I thought.” The owner saw the blonde in the doorway and moved back wincing. “Hey, I'm the one who got the distress call, I'm here to help.”

“Gracias…”

The blonde looked over the wounded figure, a woman who looked to be in her early twenties with beautiful short brown hair, and a soft light brown eye since the other one had been gouged out. “This should do, for now, but I'm going to get you outta here ok?”

“Don't forget the backpack over there too, it's got stuff for you..” The brunette wheezed, pointing to the grey army backpack to the side.

“Thanks, I'm Charlie by the way.” The blonde replied, wrapping the bleeding socket with bandages and a gauze. This earned a slight yet very cute smile making Charlie blush a bit.

“Vaggie… I know sounds dumb right?” The brunette winced, but the sound of glass breaking made her move into Charlie's arms showing there was more wounds on the back. “We gotta move now!” She whispered growling.

Charlie shook her head to clear the gay thoughts as she soon grabbed the heavy army back with one arm, and the smaller woman with the other showing how strong she was underneath her tattered white button up. She soon bolted with both. “Reginald, start the truck now!” She shouted, making the elderly man in the driver seat nod. “Right away Miss Morningstar!”

Two dogs both being beautiful black border collies jumped and opened the side door, letting their owner jump in without much hassle. “Nicely done Razzle and Dazzle!” Charlie cooed at her boys.

Reginald soon punched the gas pedal as a hoarde of zombies rushed them, he managed to shake three that managed to latch on off. “Not bad old man.” Vaggie smirked a bit but looked really weak. She was perched in Charlie's lap in the backseat since the latter tossed the bag to the side.

Charlie fished out the first aid kit that was hidden in the back compartment underneath the luxurious display of a flat screen TV, a gaming console, a DVD player, and an inner radio set up. She started using a cloth to apply pressure to the wound on the back, making Vaggie hiss. “Just stay with me, okay?”

“Those look like hooked machete cuts, m'lady. The blade is jagged, so those wounds won't be easy to heal without major scarring.” Reginald replied, making Charlie growl.

“Assholes, why would anyone do this?”

“You're sweet, but listen, word of advice? Don't go helping everyone you meet, you'll be bled dry in this hellhole..” Vaggie winced but due to blood loss she passed out.

Charlie blinked but gave a soft look. “I know but if I can help someone I will..” She muttered as the drive was a long one.

----

Her mind drifted to the people she tried to help. Some brushed her off and snapped for getting in the way; others straight up demanded the goods she was carrying. It saddened her that she had been forced to use violence on multiple occasions, giving her the reputation and the nickname The Demon Princess for her prowess.

Those eyes drifted out the window as her eyes watched the rocky landscape go by as Reginald made sure to keep the drive quiet and comfortable.

On the drive back, Charlie's mind wandered to before the Apocalypse four years ago, she and her parents were happy and out on a hunting trip. While she hated the fact they killed cute animals, it meant spending time with her mother and father who were always all over one another. Her father Lucifer was the head of Pentagram City, a place where each district was named after the seven deadly sins, as a way to get back as his old friends since they casted him out when he decided to help his wife Lilith, a well known crime boss who refused to bow down to anyone.

Charlie smiled remembering her aunts and uncles, they were so nice to her if some were a bit strange. Though when Lilith disappeared one night, the whole world went to shit. Some blame Lilith and Lucifer for unleashing an apocalyptic nuke on the world, others revered them as gods of worship. Both sides left a bad taste in the blonde's mouth. One hand others scorned her and her family, trying to dupe, outwit, or possibly kill them, while the other half were creepy cult fanatics who acted like the seven sins forming new communities within the old ones.

Reginald was one of the old servants of the Morningstar manor, a kind elderly gentleman who felt like a lovable grandpa. He taught Charlie to shoot, scavage, and survive the new world when her own father went into hiding. He was often dressed in a casual black suit with a white shirt, and black bowtie. His wife Ester had died of old age prior, but was Charlie's nanny. The old man often spoiled Charlie too, saying that she was like his own grandchild, and was very protective much like the dogs Razzle and Dazzle.

The butler looked sadden seeing his mistress deep in thought, and yet she was being so caring despite the trauma she had. “M'lady it seems we've possibly gained a new ally. At least it won't be just us four anymore.” He piped up, making Charlie come out of her thoughts. “Makes this old man happy to see you have a friend close to your age..”

“Mhm… I hope so..” The blonde replied with a soft look. Her eyes were a rare trait. They shined like rubies alongside her beautiful platinum blonde hair and pale skin. She resembled someone with albinism to some degree. It made other children steer clear of her despite how friendly she appeared.

Reginald was the first outsider to call her cute and charming, he remembered how he found her curled up in his black suit jacket one stormy night since her parents were away that weekend. He smiled fondly at the memory. Another memory was Charlie's first suit since she wanted to dress more masculine and be seen as more like herself than some prissy noble doll. He smiled watching the teen wear a very cute red suit which mimicked what Lucifer used to wear. “You've grown so much M'lady, it makes me very proud and teary.”

Charlie giggled as the truck drove up to a small abandoned red brick house that was their base. The dogs easily jumped out first as Reginald carried the backpack inside alongside the rifle his mistress used. “Well I do have the best grandpa.” She teased carrying in the unconscious Vaggie.

He smiled at the comment and went to gather the medical supplies to help the patient. “I assume you'd like to handle it, Miss Morningstar?” He asked as Charlie nodded. “Alright then, I'll go cook us something.” He left the small bedroom leaving his mistress alone.

---

Charlie got out some water that had been purified and poured it into a small bowl, she then dipped a cloth into it. “This might sting a little..” She spoke while gently removing the blood soaked bandages on Vaggie's face. She winced seeing the empty socket but carefully wiped around it since an infection there could prove deadly.

The latter hissed as her good eye opened slightly. “Sorry!” She heard Charlie say as the blonde flinched back. “So how bad is it?” Vaggie asked as her stomach churned from the headache.

“W-well..” Charlie scratched her cheek a bit. “There's a few jagged marks since an x was carved into it, it seems like whoever did this was brutal, Reginald says it was the work of a machete.” She sheepishly stated, though, applied rubbing alcohol to a clean cloth. “I need to disinfect it…”

“Do what you gotta do. I can't move anyway..” Vaggie groaned, closing her eyes, making the x on her left eyelid seen even more. Charlie felt bad seeing it, but she then rolled up a free cloth. “Hmm?”

“Bite down on this..” The blonde offered since it was better than biting the tongue.

“Gracias…”

The process of cleaning the wounds was long, but the pain did keep Vaggie awake, though she was grateful for the cloth she was biting down on. Charlie got to the smaller woman's back and blinked, her eyes widening in horror. “Fuck…” She breathed, seeing the lacerations. “You're seriously one tough woman since you've managed to survive with these wounds…”

This earned a soft chuckle from Vaggie, who then winced feeling Charlie apply a medical gauze to her back. “I used to live with people from my military days, and was also the youngest female soldier there too.” She replied looking back. “They were not the nicest to say the least…”

Charlie winced at the last comment but then blushed a bit. “Sorry but um… Could you move your arms up, please?” She asked as Vaggie chuckled.

“Aren't you polite.” The Latina playfully teased with a soft smile, though she did move her arms to the best the wounds would allow, since Charlie had to wrap her torso. “Wh-what, it's only natural to ask when doing this?”

“Unless the person is out cold?” Vaggie smirked, teasing her some more.

“Hey, you were bleeding from the eye! I had to do something!” Charlie defended looking like a pouting puppy. She soon re-wrapped Vaggie's left eye again with a fresh gauze and bandages. The two were seen laughing a bit as Reginald came in with dinner as it was almost nightfall.

“This is my butler Reginald, he drove us here.” Charlie gestured to the older man.

“A pleasure my lady. It seems M'lady has done quite well patching you up too.” He smiled seeing the handiwork.

Vaggie eyed him a bit, but found he wasn't a threat since he didn't look at her with that gross objectifying gaze Adam usually had. “Vaggie..” She replied, but looked away since he reminded her of the elderly couple her old gang had bullied.

“A lovely name for a young miss. Now please you must be hungry, so eat up.” Reginald commented with a kind smile to his warm green eyes.

Charlie smiled and took a bowl from the tray Reginald was holding. “First bowl is yours, Vaggie.” She grinned, making the smaller woman blink. “Oh uh thanks..”

Reginald took his food with him as he left the girls seeing how Vaggie looked a little uncomfortable around men. “Poor girl.. Though I have to wonder why that Hummer was there in the first place.” He pondered and decided to look into it.

That night the girls rested well with the pair of dogs beside them, though Reginald gasped at his findings while using the high powered radio. “United Sanctuary of Heaven?” He blinked since his master Lucifer had belonged to such a place. “The Exorcists Platoon?” He nodded hearing that it was the group that drove the army issued Hummers. “M'lady I hope you know what you're doing…” He decided not to report this to his mistress just yet, as he trusted Charlie's judgement.

-----

The info weighed on Reginald during the month it took Vaggie to heal fully. He wanted to ask the girl about it, but saw she was still a little skittish around him. Charlie and the dogs not so much. “Miss Vaggie, I found this in the basement awhile ago. Would you like it?” He asked, trying to make friends with her.

Vaggie blinked as in his hands was a powerful 12 gauge Ithaca 37 shotgun. “No way!” Her eye lit up seeing it. “That's a 1933 model, where the fuck did you get this?!” She actually smirked holding the pump-action gun.

“It seems the owner of this house loved his guns, I've found a 1982 AutoMag .44 magnum as well.” The butler smiled, showing the gun on his belt.

Charlie blinked, looking over after hearing that adorable squee. She had her mouth agape hearing Vaggie going off about guns and weapons and finding it fun to discuss with Reginald, who was smiling. “Huh…” The blonde found this to be really cute as her blush deepened. “Ah fuck, I think I might have a crush..” She watched the short haired brunette with a ramble on with a beautiful grin. “No c'mon Charlie, you've only known this girl for a month and your lonely ass got attached.” She muttered and scolded herself.

She remembered the month that had gone by clearly, from the cleaning of the wounds while sneaking a peek at that gorgeous lightly tanned skin with small freckles along the back, shoulders and nape, to the quick catches and gentle touches she had given to Vaggie's skin when the woman was about to fall. Charlie grumbled remembering how focused and hot she looked when test firing some BB guns to get back into shape. She sighed and went to do some light training in the backyard as a way to clear her head.

Vaggie soon looked around for Charlie to gush and show her new shotgun too like a kid with a new toy. But what greeted her lone eye was a sight to behold. Charlie kicked the bottle that was placed on a dummy clean off with her right foot. She looked like she barely broke a sweat and super focused. “Dios mio…” Vaggie watched since she only ever saw the friendly puppy dog side. Reginald noticed and playfully walked away since he didn't want to spook Vaggie.

----

Charlie kept at it for an hour and easily left the dummy she was beating up a huge mess. She sighed with her mind still filled with gay thoughts. She grumbled and went to practice her shooting not knowing her crush was watching her from inside the house. “Towel m'lady?” Reginald came over after another hour holding up a small red towel.

Charlie sighed and took it gratefully, she wiped the back of her neck since her long blonde hair made it heat up a lot. “Sorry for the mess.” She replied sheepishly since due to her practice she left the backyard disheveled.

“No need to apologize, I'm just glad you're using the facility I've made.” The butler smiled as he walked past Charlie. He was at least a few inches shorter as his mistress was tall for her age. He smiled, remembering how the little princess was so small.

Reginald thought back to his time at the manor. He smiled when he thought of the first friendly grin he got from Charlie when she was little. He chuckled, cleaning up as more memories surfaced. Her giddy face when she went on a date with Seviathan since their fathers got them together, then her tears when the fuckwit broke her heart since he made her feel unwanted and ugly, and then the emo phase, what a sight that was. Reginald sighed as he tried to help her with the pain since her father seemed so distant with her as was her mother. He managed to coax her out of that phase as he reminded her of who she used to be.

He spotted Charlie in the present helping him with the chore. He smiled softly seeing that kind hearted girl he knew, however he couldn't help but feel saddened when he remembered how lonely she was. He sighed softly since for a time before the apocalypse happened he had been retired with his wife, which left the girl alone for several years as he wanted to take care of his family first. She understood but was still sad. However when the two were brought together again in this hellish world, he couldn't have been happier to return to her side. “M'lady you don't have to do this.” He replied though winced since his back was getting bad.

“Nonsense! Your back has been bothering you lately so this is the least I can do to help you Reginald.” Charlie replied seeing her butler rubbing a sore spot on his lower back.

“I blame myself for getting old.” He chuckled trying to make a joke. “You're too kind to an old fart like me.”

----

Vaggie blinked having gone inside the house as she looked from the window seeing them, she felt a soft twinge inside as the two reminded her of her family back home, and the old platoon she cared for despite what the general and his lieutenant did to her. She moved away from the window as a tear threatened to escape. “Wasn't I one of the best there was, so why did they betray me? All I did was spare some survivors from their raid…” Her mind drifted to that day.

----

“Hey Vaggie, check this out.” Adam smirked, pronouncing her name with a hard g. “A raider camp of filthy bastards prime for the picking. Shall we go see what we can find, eh Vagasaurus?”

“As long as I can test out this badass new machete, I'm good.” Lute replied, holding up what looked to be a thin bill hook blade.

Vaggie smiled at her two friends and then back at the squad of seven black and grey camo dressed soldiers, most being women. “Another set of raiders off the map is a good enough reason to me.”

Then it happened. The squad took down the ‘raider’ camp, which turned out to be innocent survivors who didn't pay Adam's ridiculous tax that made their area safe. Vaggie's stomach churned, seeing the glee the others took, taking down the small six man encampment. She spotted a woman and her child running into the Hellway and followed, not knowing Adam and Lute were behind her. “P-please mercy, we're not fighters at all!” The mother pleaded, holding her baby boy close.

Vaggie winced a bit, removing her grey camo helmet, which had a face mask painted to resemble a frowning demon. “I'm not here to hurt you, but you can't stay in here either. So run now, there's a miata three blocks down from here with half a tank of fuel left.” She ushered and watched the family bolt with a tearful thank you.

She sighed softly watching them go, but blinked hearing a bullet whizz past her head and nail the woman in the back. “What a bad thing you've just done…” A male voice spoke, making Vaggie's blood run cold. “Shame too, you were one of our best.”

“Stop!” She pointed her old military rifle at Adam. “Let the kid go now, or else a bullet goes through your fucking head!”

Adam laughed and shrugged, he did as asked so that Vaggie would drop her guard enough for Lute to swing that machete cutting both the old gun in half and her left eye in the process. “See I let the kid go since we're old friends. But now we got a problem, see?” His finger jabbed to the zombies approaching.

Lute grinned and turned Vaggie's face and carved out that eye causing the smaller woman to howl with pain and sent it flying for the zombies to catch the scent. “You'll be perfect zombie food since you caused this unnecessary commotion you little bitch.”

“Lute why..” Vaggie asked since Lute had been like family to her when she lost her own.

Adam laughed seeing Lute stomp on Vaggie's back. “Be sure to carve up those little wing tattoos on her back. I can't have anyone finding an exorcist dead.” He smirked as Lute was all too happy to tear up the mark of the Platoon making Vaggie suffer even more.

The two turned their backs to a wounded Vaggie, but she growled, refusing to die right there. She took her bowie knife and slashed the grey army bag off of Adam's back, and grabbed it swiftly when Lute ran out to start the Hummer. Adam, hearing only his loud laugh and zombie snarls, didn't notice it at all.

“He was always such a giant dumbass…” Vaggie huffed softly and soon used the radio in the back to call for aid.

-----

Vaggie shuddered coming back from her memories, she panted softly, her body trembling with cold sweat. “How am I still alive..” She muttered though quickly changed her demeanor when she heard the door.

“It's gotten dark out, but the clean up is done.” Reginald chuckled, retiring to his cot. “Good night ladies.”

“Night Reginald.” Charlie replied smiling. She soon lightly tugged at her shirt collar. “Man I'm sweaty, I think I'll go wash up.”

Vaggie blinked watching the blonde leave. She wanted to reach out but her hand stopped midway as her mind sneered at her. You've killed so many innocents, do you really think you deserve comfort? Those words sent a shudder down the brunette's spine.

---

Upstairs Charlie used a wet cloth to wipe herself down, water was getting scarce in the area, same with food as she sighed. “We might have to move soon.” She looked over the list of supplies. “Medicine is also low, and the report of increased zombie activity is worrying me.”

While Charlie looked over the notes and jotted down more in an empty notebook, Vaggie was sitting downstairs trying to keep her mind off of the horrible daydream-like memory. The brunette sighed, closing her right eye as the other one had been sealed shut due to the scarring. “Hmm?” She opened her eye to see the two border collies looking at her. “Hey boys..”

The pups saw that tired strained smile, Dazzle nudged his brother Razzle to go get Charlie while he soon laid down on the couch beside Vaggie, plopping his fluffy head on her lap.

Razzle barked in affirmation, and dashed upstairs making Charlie yelp. “Razzle, you scared me!” She sighed, placing a hand over her racing heart. “Why are you up here boy?”

Razzle tugged on her sleeve, asking her to follow him, which the blonde did out of curiosity.

Charlie's heart sank seeing the tired gaze Vaggie had as the brunette looked up hearing footsteps. “Are you ok?” She asked coming over to sit down beside her while Razzle laid on the floor. “Sorry for saying this but you look like shit.”

“I feel like shit..” Vaggie replied not even hiding it since she was a terrible liar.

Charlie looked at her dogs, she knew animals had a keener sense for when something was wrong. She then smiled softly and got up, making Dazzle move as well. “I think a good night sleep in a soft bed will fix that, for a whole month you've been on that couch!” The blonde explained then she gave a cute devilish smirk. “Up we go!”

This made Vaggie yelp as she was scooped up by the taller woman. “Hey! I don't mind the couch, honestly!”

“Nope, you're coming with me.” Charlie started to walk towards the stairs. “And I won't take no for an answer especially since you look exhausted!”

Vaggie was about to open her mouth but closed it with a soft grumble. She was soon plopped down on the big comfy bed. “Dios mio, you're so stubborn..”

“Someone has to be since you've been pushing yourself ever since you were able to walk two weeks ago!” Charlie replied and gave a cute pout. She soon climbed into bed and held Vaggie close making the brunette blush a bit. “Besides you're cold aren't you, I'm seriously like a furnace so this works out too.” She lightly nuzzled into Vaggie's hair trying to hide her own blush.

Vaggie never really had been this close to anyone, even back with her old group, everyone slept in shifts to keep an eye out for zombies, and raiders. She had taken it upon herself to repay Charlie back by being her own watch dog since her senses were used to it. “I guess…” The brunette muttered but couldn't ignore that pleasant apple scent and warmth that came from Charlie. It put her at ease as she leaned in lightly nuzzling those breasts.

This sent Charlie's mind into a bi-panic as her blush darkened as much as it could since she was like an albino. “Night Vaggie..” She smiled softly with her heartbeat quickening.

It felt so right to hold her, more than it ever did with her ex boyfriend as Charlie soon fell asleep hearing that soft reply. “Night Charlie…”

---

Somewhere in the early morning Charlie awoke slightly feeling a bit of fidgeting in her arms. The scent of lavender clued her in as to who it was. “Mmhn?” She opened an eyelid and looked down.

During their sleep, Charlie had moved from laying on her side to laying on her back taking Vaggie with her as she saw the smaller woman nuzzle closer into the crook of the blonde's neck. Her tired eyes stared at the beauty cradled in her arms with a dopey smile. “She sure is cute, even when asleep.” She muttered giving a soft kiss to Vaggie’s head. That sleepy motion instantly awoke Charlie who had an ‘oh fuck’ look. Relief went through her as she saw that Vaggie hadn't woken up. “Calm your lonely ass down girl..” She laid back on the pillow mentally kicking herself.

It was another hour before Vaggie would awoke with a soft groan and very cute yawn. “This isn't the couch..” She mumbled, blinking away her sleepiness. “Too cozy and warm..”

“Um thanks?” Charlie replied awkwardly as Vaggie blinked only to look down at the cheeky blonde. “Ack!” She backed up, moving to the foot of the bed making Charlie laugh.

“How long were you awake?!”

“An hour, I couldn't move you since you kinda just nuzzled into me?”

Hearing that Vaggie blushed and groaned, hiding her face with her hands. It was so awkward but a part of her was annoyed she left that cozy spot. “It's your fault for being a good pillow!”

“Why thank you.” Charlie kept that playful grin showing her teeth with slightly long canines. “How would you like to rate your sleep, Miss?” She teased.

Vaggie whacked her with a pillow making Charlie laugh and snort. She couldn't resist laughing along since that smile was infectious. “Jerk… But fine, it was honestly the best I've had alright?”

“The best huh?” Charlie smiled but then gave a softer look. “You do look a lot more refreshed. But if I may, why are you pushing yourself so hard every night to keep watch for zombies? Razzle and Dazzle plus the jingling cans we've set up are already doing that job for us so we can relax.” She asked, since she's seen the dark circles under Vaggie's eyes.

Vaggie shifted awkwardly, lightly playing with some of her hair since it had gotten a little longer than the short bob she had previously. “I used to be a watchdog for my previous group and it's just a habit by now. But if it helps protect you princesa then I don't mind being alone at night.”

Charlie puffed up her cheeks with a cute growl. “Well then break that habit please, you're not my personal guard Vaggie, you're my friend, best friend if I'm honest..” She replied poking Vaggie on the nose.

The brunette blinked, though a soft smile graced her lips. “I’ll try but no promise though. Never know when it could come in handy.” She chuckled but squeaked when Charlie brought her into a big hug.

Vaggie chuckled a bit and patted Charlie on the back, she however started to feel her stomach twist with guilt. However the taller woman moved back and got up with a grin, and started to move away from the bed. Vaggie watched her get ready but had to look away since when Charlie bent over, she got a nice view of that cute butt. “Fuck she's really cute.” She mumbled but couldn't help it as she looked back again seeing the light framing Charlie's figure.

“Thank you!” She cooed nuzzling Vaggie.

---

Though that was short lived as the dogs started barking. “M'lady! We've got a problem!” Reginald called, making Charlie pick up her Hawken rifle and dash downstairs followed by Vaggie with her shotgun.

“Shit, how did so many get past the cans?!” Charlie hissed seeing several zombies banging on their makeshift fence, she soon spotted why as the set up had fallen apart. “Great…”

“If we use our guns it'll draw even more, so let me handle this!” Vaggie growled then smirked, grabbing a harpoon off the wall. “Perfect..”

Reginald blinked seeing Vaggie easily jump onto the platform before the fence and started stabbing at swiping with reckless abandon. “That crazy girl…” He growled as one went for a bite on Vaggie, he had no choice but to shoot it with his pistol. “M'lady grab everything we can take, and get to the truck!” He shouted as Charlie nodded whistling for her dogs.

Vaggie danced around the grabs but stumbled as the platform crumbled. “Shit!” She tried to get back as a zombie with a huge gaping jaw and jagged teeth tried to bite her. “Get away from my granddaughters!” She heard Reginald roar and blasted the zombie in the head while pushing Vaggie behind him.

Charlie gulped but pushed her foot hard on the gas pedal making the truck rush forward as she ran over several. “Sorry!” She called hearing the crunch. “Now's not the time for that!” Vaggie replied watching the house disappear from view.

He was bitten on the forearm making Vaggie's eye go wide. “Reginald!” She yelled but watched as he fired his gun at the zombie and jumped down. “Don't worry, just run!” He pulled her along as the duo jumped into the truck. “DRIVE M'LADY!”

(Heyo! Hope you enjoyed my 5K word chapter ^^)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #oc #human au since its zombies #zombie apocolypse au #hurt/comfort #adam is a dick #hazbin hotel adam #lute is bloodthirsty #hazbin hotel lute #starmoth #rainbowangel #Vaggie likes weapons #charlie is a bi disaster #flustered charlie is fun #awkward vaggie is fun #badass girls

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freewayshark · 1 year ago

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Wip Wednesday

Tagged today by @rewritetheending but also lately by @heartbeatdiaz @panbuckley @alyxmastershipper and @clusterbuck and probably other people going back even further than the last few tag games but hey! I have something to share today, and it’s a little bit longer chunk since I haven’t been sharing much stuff. It’s hot off the presses so still v rough and yes I am doing the annoying thing where I don’t say what this is for no apparent reason

When he gets to the site where the pair had apparently decided to set up camp, it isn’t a mystery as to why he’s been called in for a med check on day one.

The man is sitting in the dirt next to a pile of dry tree limbs, and his foot is covered in bright red blood. The dirt around his foot has turned into a burgundy mud where the dry ground has eagerly soaked up the blood spilling from a nasty wound on top of the man’s foot. A wickedly sharp machete lies a couple feet away, its glistening crimson edge giving it away as the culprit.

Eddie kneels next to the man and starts unpacking the necessities from his kit.

“Hi, I’m Eddie. You mind telling me what happened?”

The man grimaces, more out of embarrassment than pain.

“I was using Michelle’s machete to hack up some of this wood into smaller pieces for our fire. I didn’t realize it was that sharp, so it went through the branch and, uh, well, kept going. Guess cutting away from your body is useful advice for more than just using safety scissors in the first grade, huh?”

The guy laughs at his own joke, which is something Eddie would usually find to be a precursor to jackass behavior, something he is unfortunately all too familiar with on this job, but something about the guy’s self-deprecating grin belies that assumption.

The bright blue eyes probably don’t hurt.

Eddie redoubles his attention on the injury.

“You didn’t try to stop the bleeding?” He asks, brow furrowed.

“Ah, no. I could tell it wasn’t bleeding too bad, and there’s not exactly an abundance of gauze or anything clean out here, so I figured better to not get a bunch of dirt in it,” he says, holding up his hands to show his dirt covered palms.

Considering it hasn’t bled an alarming amount, that probably was the best course of action, but he’s not sure he likes the idea of this guy out here free bleeding if he gets hurt again because it worked out this time. But most people wouldn’t even have thought about it before trying to stop the bleeding.

“Do you have medical training?” He asks as he starts flushing the wound with saline. The machete itself still could’ve introduced dirt or particles of the branch it had already passed through, so better safe than sorry. The man doesn’t even wince.

“I do! I’m a firefighter with the LAFD,” he answers proudly. “My name’s Buck, by the way.”

I haven’t been on a lot today so I’m sure I’m tagging people that have already done it but I’m tagging the people mentioned above and @sibylsleaves @fiona-fififi @transboybuckley @gayhoediaz @elvensorceress @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @transbuck

#my wips

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prosperdemeter2 · 1 year ago

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Teaser Tuesday - collision

“Ow!” Eddie grunted, jerking his chin out of the cradle of Buck’s hand.

He couldn’t help but flush at the look he got in response. Buck sighed, dropped the alcohol swab on the table next to the first aid kit open on the counter in the bathroom sink, and pressed a piece of sterile cotton to the wound over Eddie’s eyebrow. “Sorry.” He said about as half heartedly as he would do when bandaging a patient that had gotten hurt doing something even mildly idiotic. Buck was sorry, to a point - Eddie wasn’t under any illusion that Buck wanted to cause him any sort of pain - but Eddie had… done something more than mildly idiotic.

Honestly, he was lucky that Chris had been sleeping when Eddie had come home because he didn’t exactly know how he was going to explain the bruises to him when he saw them. “Shit,” Eddie mumbled and resisted the urge to press his fingers to the sluggishly bleeding wound himself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have moved.”

Buck hummed, pressing against it ever so gently with the gauze. “It’s an automatic reaction.” He pulled the fabric back, frowned at the cut and then pressed it again.

He had been surprisingly… quiet about the entire thing.

Maybe not so surprisingly, though. Eddie knew Buck well enough to know that he was terrible at confronting people when he hadn’t been sitting up waiting for them to come home from what was supposed to be a friendly sparring session at the gym after an eight hour shift. Lena had done an okay job of patching him up herself, her laughter infectious and the lethargy to Eddie’s limbs weighing him down in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. You did good, Lena had said with a laugh. If you ever want to blow off some steam again… just let me know.

Only the peaceful lethargy hadn’t lasted even his entire drive home. His body had begun to ache, the crude bandaid Lena had laid over the cut above his eyebrow had bled through, and Eddie had a bruise, right in the middle of his ribcage that he knew was going to look terrible in the morning.

The gauze left his brow, a thin, butterfly bandage taking its place and a throbbing starting to set into the area around it. Really, it looked worse than it actually was. Eddie had known that Lena’s spinning right elbow would catch him off guard and the guy that taught it to her had proven that it would. It had clipped him before he could block it, but wounds like that had a habit of looking worse than they actually were.

Buck tapped his elbow. “Up.”

Eddie grumbled. “It’s fine.”

“Eddie,” Buck cautioned. Eddie hadn’t heard him use that tone quite so seriously before. He swallowed and straightened his fingers on the curve of his knees. “Do you need help?” Buck asked after a moment of Eddie simply staring at the floor in front of the sink with an ever deepening frown.

“No.” The thing about fighting, Eddie remembered as he stood, was that it felt good for all of a moment. And then the adrenaline disappeared and, yes, the anger was gone but in its place was a shallow empty pit that only held misery and everything else that he used the anger to hide. He stood up with a sniff and Buck, even if he was cautiously frustrated with him, offered him assistance regardless of whether he needed it or not. He trailed his hand over Eddie’s elbow and around to his back, fingers pressing lightly until they landed on his side and Eddie couldn’t hold back the pained scrunch of his face.

Buck’s silence as he lifted up his shirt to get a better look at the bruise was… unnerving. “You should see the other guy.” Eddie joked in an effort to lighten the mood.

It didn’t really work. “Why?” Buck asked in a deliberately light tone. “Did they get shitty first aid too?”

Eddie snorted, took the fabric of his shirt from Buck’s hands and held it up for him. “Nothing’s broken.” He assured as best as he could.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Buck rolled his eyes. “Are you an x-ray machine?”

“No,” Eddie wanted him to look at him, though, not just at his injuries. Buck did this thing when he was upset and trying not to make it obvious, where he would steadfastly ignore making any sort of eye contact. He did it when he was uncomfortable, too, but Eddie knew the way he frowned to know which of the two he was dealing with. Buck was upset, he didn’t like that he was upset and he didn’t know how to deal with his upset without potentially making everything worse. And so he was hyperfocusing on the one thing he could do, and that was patch up Eddie’s wounds with a practiced precision to remind him, and anyone else, just how Buck had broken several records at the Academy both times he took the test. “And Bosko didn’t do that bad of a job.”

Buck’s hand stopped, for a moment, before he shook his head and went back to the task at hand. Eddie knew what he was doing - pressing his fingers to see if anything felt out of place, checking to see just how bad the bruise was. It hadn’t fully developed, and it would look worse as the day went on, but Eddie knew how broken ribs felt and the ache in his body wasn’t telling him anything was more than injured on the surface. “You knew she was there.” Eddie reminded him, kept up this one sided argument like it was going to change anything.

Really, he’d rather if Buck just argued with him about it. “Isn’t sparring supposed to be in a controlled environment with protective gear in place?”

#teaser tuesday #collision #rewrite

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lunarscaled · 1 year ago

Note

"..... what's with that look, doll? plan on just gawking, or are you gonna enjoy watching the sakura trees with me?" toji teases lyric lightly as he shifts in his seat, trying to get comfortable on the park's stiff bench. despite his plain colors in clothes & the sleek black of his parasol, the ex-sorcerer hunter looks..... happy. soft, in a way. his lazy gaze flickers from his partner back to the sky, wistful. his lips are curled in a light smile.

"..... the view is really nice."

-> They catch themselves staring at the lines of his face that weren't there almost a decade ago—fine ones, so faint they almost miss them until the corner of his mouth catches in that too-sharp-almost-sneer that has preceded his cruelty to them on more than one occasion when they were younger. How the lip splitting scar on the corner of his mouth has not faded with time and instead become a more deeply impressed part of him like the stitch scars on the shoulder joint where he lost his arm and a segment of his side, narrowly avoiding death by exsanguination. It's been nearly 7 years since then, when Shiu dragged him half-conscious to their doorstep and assumed they, a sorcerer and the only recent address he could remember, were someone to help him. Somehow better or cheaper than hospitals, and Lyric was left fumbling to find an affinity or a method of saving the man bleeding out on their rug and couch. ( it turned out to be something he needed a hospital for anyways. but he needed somewhere to stay and heal after that, and for whatever reason he could not return to where he had come from—if it existed to begin with. ) He stayed on their sofa after they tried to scrub the bloodstains out. Lyric peeled off gauze and replaced it when it bled through; cleaned his wound with saline and redid popped stitches when he moved too much. Shuffled awkward and irritable through him learning how to use one arm and the long healing and their hands around his throat on the couch, both of them teetering on despair and longing for death and neither of them able to have it.

The more time they spent in Lyric's shoebox apartment comingling lives, the less they fucked. Lyric didn't even think about it between working sorcery and non-sorcery jobs, managing the condition of his wounds, trying to make a home where they didn't want one to be.

-> He's dressed for the blossom viewing, something Lyric has never done because it didn't exist in their life before: he wears a charcoal grey kimono with a striped obi for the belt, a thin black coat Lyric doesn't know the name for draped around his shoulders against the windy spring chill. His socks and sandals are the same color, along with the grip of the parasol he carries, the span of its canopy a teal in a color too close to the type Lyric wears in their regular clothes. His eyes crease at the corners, subtle crows feet from age, when he inclines his head towards them at his side. What's with that look, doll? It doesn't have any of the bite like in the past. Maybe it's good that it doesn't. Proves that they're both more grown now, Lyric nearing their 26th birthday in oncoming May, but it still leaves a small hole of how things used to be. The distance they used to keep, to protect themselves. It doesn't exist anymore. Toji eventually found a stable occupation that took advantage of the physical prestige his Heavenly Restriction granted him, and even if he has softened up around the edges and in the middle in a more comfortable life, Lyric knows he is no less dangerous even onehanded and retired.

-> It looks good on him. Caught them off guard the first time they thought it, and again the first time he was gentle to them intentionally: his broad hand holding a lace-loosened shoe for them to slide their foot into it in a little boutique store where a trendy pair caught their eye briefly in the window. How he made sure it fit close to their sole and didn't pinch in the toes when Lyric tied the laces. The softened-up teasing when he held the box out of reach so Lyric couldn't put it back on the shelf because shoes like that were expensive and their work was difficult, and Toji bought them anyways. Left them on the coffee table in their apartment, slightly less shitty than the last one they lost the deposit on for obvious reasons. When he was stretched out on the couch, Lyric tucked one leg between him and the back of the cushions and settled on his hips, anticipating an exchange that had become typical of them for almost a year before he lost his arm. Felt their breath catch in their chest when his calloused fingers skimmed up their spine and stopped on the back of their neck.

Felt more confused than understanding when he laid them on his warm chest and kept watching the news, his knuckles drawing circles on one shoulder blade.

"... I just thought you looked good these days, is all. It's different, but good. You look better."

-> Healthier, they want to say, but don't. Happier. ( they wonder if they are apart of that happiness. if there's a place for them in it, or if he wants to make one, and where they exist in each other's lives as they are. Lyric had never planned to stay in Japan indefinitely. ) A gentle breeze plucks pale pink blossoms from their collectives and sends them tumbling through the air and across the blue eye, so bright and wide Lyric has to squint to look at it properly. They remember laying on their back in a field as a child and feeling they could fall both up and down at the same time when they stared at nothing but sky; they think of being as light as a cherry blossom petal and tumbling through the air to somewhere new. Of how the piles of them cover even the grey sidewalk and dark road asphalt and leave fantasy trails alongside hills of green grass until the whole world is colored by fleeting beauty.

"... it is pretty. There's so many of them, the trees."

-> They wonder if the reflection of the sky in their eyes changes their color, warps their world view. They wonder if they were squinting and didn't notice when Toji lowers the edge of his parasol into their vision and blocks out the tree line and passing bodies of people just enough—just as Lyric opens their mouth to protest he's defeating the point, they turn their head towards him and catch the dark of his hair where the choppy edges barely overlap his eyes, the profile of his nose to his cheek to his mouth. Catch his mouth, and theirs, and the gentle way he kisses them on the bench. Their fingers curl around the sides of the messenger bag in their lap, holding their essentials for going out. Squeeze it and expect something, but nothing comes; his mouth is gentle and warm, lightly chapped, and he kisses them chaste and slow like the moment can draw out forever. Lyric is almost scared that it will with their heart hammering away in their chest. One of their hands clutches the collar of his kimono and the underlining, trying to ground or balance themselves. They lean a little closer to it and don't know why. Just want something that sits in their mouth but that they never say.

They think about how he says doll like a mockery, but also how his mouth shapes their name. They think about him calling them baby, once, nose in their jaw and barely awake and their chest squeezes.

-> He parts them quietly and they know their cheeks and ears are flush, pink as the trees that surround them. Their hand loosens where it grips his kimono, but he keeps the parasol low enough they are just out of view of everyone else. His smile is too sharp because it knows them too well, and Lyric thinks of how Toji brings them coffee sometimes when he comes over, because he comes over, for no reason. Lyric thinks about how Toji wraps a scarf around their neck even when they insist, they don't need it, they've worked in way colder conditions. Lyric thinks about Toji, less cut like facet jewels and more like a living being, still visibly string and yet soft enough it doesn't hurt to touch him anymore, in their apartment kitchen taking a call from a client on their day off as he leans over their shoulder with his nose to their hairline as he watches them highlight passages in a local paper for potential curse leads. Lyric thinks. About Toji. About their heart in their throat like a wild animal when he leans back into his own space and takes the parasol with him, lets their hands rest in their own lap. How he smiles, a little gentler than it needs to be, and says:

Yeah. View's good.

He does not look at the trees.

#goreburdened #* questions and answers.#⭐ your mother's weaves and your father's threads: let me rob them of you now ( goreburdened. | Toji )#TOJI LIVES AU LETS GO #⋇ NOTHING WILL SAVE YOU FROM CALAMITOUS EMBRACE: JUJUTSU KAISEN #⋇ THE ROCKROSE AND THE THISTLE: JUJUTSU KAISEN 0 #oooooOOO listening to Delicate by Taylor Swift writing this btw and hhhouughugh #Is it cool that I said all that? / Is it chill that you're in my head? / 'Cause I know that it's delicate #anyways cherry blossom viewing is technically the end of march but like. shhh

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theschizophrenicchristmasgoblin · 11 months ago

Text

The Bin Chronicles

The first thing you need to know about me is that I will not be - in any sense of the word - a reliable narrator.

In fact, being an unreliable narrator is exactly what makes me so uncomfortably authentic. I’m a person who struggles with mental illness writing about having a mentally ill experience in multiple mental facilities with other mentally ill individuals.

If you resonate with what you’re about to hear, I’m deeply sorry and hope you’re getting the care and support you need. If you don’t resonate with my story and are simply reading for entertainment, welcome.

Disclaimer about the word bin*

In case you’re wondering what “bin” means in the title of the book, The Bin Chronicles, let me tell you. It is shorthand for the term “looney bin”. It’s an affectionate joking term that some people use to refer to the psych ward. If anyone asks, I made it up.

Chapter 1 - The Drive

Clutching my bleeding forearm to my chest, I tried to wade through my sandbag heavy thoughts. Were the handfuls of ibuprofen I downed ever going to kick in? Would I get charged extra if I bled out in the Uber I impulsively scheduled? Should I have texted all those friends to see if they were awake enough to convince me to go to the ER? Did I even deserve to go to the hospital for something like this?

The piercing headlights of the approaching white sedan broke through my worrying. It was decided. At 1:39 AM on August 20th, 2023, I was going to head to the Massachusetts General Hospital emergency room for severe self-harm.

I’d like to say something inspiring such as “getting in the backseat of that Uber was one of the bravest choices I’ve ever made”. But I’d be lying. It didn’t feel like a brave choice. I didn’t even really want to get help. I just knew that the voice in my head telling me that I needed to cut deep enough to require stitches needed to be taken seriously.

The only memory my increasingly painkiller sedated brain encoded was the irony of being in this particular car. Never in my life have I had a kinder driver. He went above and beyond and offered me a phone charger and water. That had never happened to me before. Meanwhile, I was having one of the worst nights of my life. His warmth made the hot tears roll down my cheeks even harder, as the juxtaposition of a stranger’s kindness compared to my own deadly self-hatred felt like too much to bear. It would have looked like a completely normal ride had I not been holding my injured arm to my chest.

Now that the anxiety of whether or not I should get into the Uber subsided, a new worry popped up. Was the cut deep enough? If not, would they turn me away? I was determined to finally go inpatient and in my deranged mind I thought the only way to get there was to have a medical emergency. As these thoughts multiplied, I remember trying to take in the city and its beautiful florescent lights. For a split second, I felt true serenity being one of the only cars on the highway. With my arm starting to throb and soak through the gauze, the tranquility didn’t last.

Suddenly, everything looked familiar. I had worked at Massachusetts General Hospital for a year as a research coordinator. I recognized Flour Bakery + Cafe, the little coffee shop with the best butter chicken sandwich around, and the old watering hole where we used to drink after work, Harvard Gardens. I got to retrace my daily commute on Staniford Street passing a Domino’s pizza that made me salivate (yes I like Domino’s, don’t turn your nose up at me!) and a sub shop I never got to try, turning right onto Cambridge Street where I could never resist the Whole Foods next to my work at lunch time. Streets usually jampacked and bustling with cars and pedestrians commuting to and from work were eerily empty. No babies crying, dogs barking, no full hands with lunches and coffee or music blaring while bicyclists rode past. As I finally reached the main entrance of Mass General, a feeling of dread set in. I knew that I wouldn’t be going home that night.

I got out of the car. Part of me thought about getting right back in. I guess in that moment I did two things: I fulfilled my mission of taking myself to the ER and I not only admitted I needed help but brought myself to the place that could keep me safe. Once inside, I talked with the woman at the front desk. Everyone there was incredibly calm and kind and I immediately felt a sense of relief. They asked me some basic demographic intake questions like my age, DOB, the nature of the visit, whether or not I had current suicidal thoughts. Unlike my previous ER visit earlier that week, the first thing they did when they saw me was stitch me up. I’ll never forget that the provider doing them said it was almost too superficial to require stitches. While many people might feel comforted by that fact, I felt discouraged. I felt like I hadn’t made the cut deep enough which in turn made me believe I didn’t deserve to be at the hospital. I didn’t see the psych triage team that morning, but I finally fell asleep in a recliner.

Before I explain any further, let me tell you how I put myself in this minacious situation.

…

The weeks leading up to Mass General and eventually McLean Hospital were not pretty. I had been going through a depressive episode for the past 6 months if not longer, but during those last two weeks things had gotten much worse. One of the things I struggle with when I’m depressed is hygiene. Usually that takes the form of not taking my prescribed pills or brushing my teeth. Graphic, I know. Sometimes it involves not brushing my hair or taking showers too infrequently. This time it was all of the above. I felt hopeless consistently and I stopped enjoying things that had otherwise brought me joy.

At that time, I really enjoyed smoking weed and drinking daily. I stopped them both cold turkey. Another source of enjoyment for me was watching TV with my partner every day. During this period, I stopped being able to pay attention to our shows. Instead, I spent most of my time watching myself from outside and above my body. I couldn’t watch TV or hold a conversation without dissociating. Dissociation is a break in how your mind processes information. Dissociation can cause feelings of disconnectedness from your thoughts, feelings, memories, or surroundings. It can also mess with identity and sense of time. It can be a natural response to trauma, a way to cope with stressful experiences, or a symptom of mental illnesses like PTSD, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, or borderline personality disorder to name a few. Alternatively, it is sometimes a side effect of alcohol or taking or coming off of medications. For me, I either view myself from outside my body or stare blankly while being bombarded with anxious thoughts or none at all until someone snaps me out of it.

As soon as I lost interest in those aforementioned activities, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to them. I stopped eating. I struggle with a self-diagnosed weed-induced binge eating disorder where most of the time I restrict my food intake except for when I’m high. Once I stopped smoking, I lost my appetite completely. I wasn’t even restricting; I just had no energy to eat. I didn’t see the point in it anymore.

I couldn’t keep myself up past 8:30 at night. I’d blame it on the medications I was taking, but I can’t even do that because my psychiatrist and I took the one medication that was impacting my sleep, Abilify, out of the mix. Abilify is an antipsychotic that treats many different mental health conditions such as schizophrenia, bipolar I, autism spectrum disorder, and Tourette syndrome. What it does is balance the levels of dopamine and serotonin in the brain to help regulate moods, behaviors, and thoughts. We decided to stop the medication because I wasn’t feeling any positive or negative effects and I didn’t feel like it was contributing to our goal of getting me out of my depressed funk.

Now I had nothing to blame for my change in sleep but my depression. I would later learn from McLean how important it is to change the narrative from “my depression made me do this” to “my experience with depression made me feel this way”. It might sound like a small change, but what it does is stop you from making your illness your whole identity. Personifying depression can give it a life of its own, and it can be empowering to separate yourself from it by making these small linguistic changes. Now that I have that information, I can reframe the narrative to recognize that one of the symptoms of depression is sleep disturbance and that I was at the time experiencing that symptom rather than blame my depression as a whole for the situation.

I started moving slowly. I felt like I was wading through water any time I had to stand. My energy was at an all-time low. I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed on the weekends and went right to bed when I got home from work. My bones ached. I felt tired all the time. I felt worthless. I felt like my life had no meaning, like I was merely a husk of my former self. I didn’t feel like I had any value to offer or bring to the world anymore.

I stopped paying attention at work because I couldn’t focus. I cried constantly and isolated myself from the rest of my coworkers. I had to step away from meetings because I couldn’t stop crying. I wasn’t able to keep up with my social life. I stopped calling my friends and didn’t return their calls when they reached to check in. This may sound like I’m beating a dead horse, and it most definitely is redundant, but I want to highlight what the signs of depression were for me. I hope this helps you to identify it in yourself or in someone else.[MOU1]

I felt like there was no reason for me to live and I fantasized about ending my life. I thought about all the ways in which I could kill myself and how to make it as painless as possible for my loved ones. I had recurring dreams about overdosing on painkillers. To make matters worse, I promised myself that I wouldn’t fail. I knew I didn’t want to end up fucking it up like I did the last time I attempted in 2020. I didn’t want to end up in the hospital or disfigured in some way. I just wanted it all to end.

On August 16th I cut so deeply that I needed stitches. I was on the phone with my partner Beau as he was driving home from work, and I just started cutting and couldn’t stop. The cut was actually a few days old, and it was already relatively deep. I’ve started doing this new thing where I cut in the same spot over and over again. I’m not sure why I switched from hurting myself in multiple places to the same one, but I know that this change is dangerous. It’s dangerous because it deepens the cut which can lead to needing hospital-level care.

Completely on brand, I decided to reopen this old wound and make it deep enough to require stitches. I think the reason I did this was because the other day when I made the initial cut, I called my ex roommate who is studying to be a doctor and she said that it might need stitches. Upon further inspection, she said it should heal on its own. I absolutely hated that she was right, and I wanted to prove her wrong. Welcome to my fucked up brain.

So on August 16th I reopened the wound and slashed at it until my partner came home from work. I couldn’t feel anything while it was happening, and I dissociate[MOU2] d as I watched myself deepen the cut from above my body. Before my partner got home I started rehearsing my smile and my coyness. But as soon as he opened the door, I caved. My cut was bleeding through the gauze, and it was having trouble clotting which was unsurprisingly really hard to hide.

I told him I thought I needed to go to the hospital. So off we went to Newton Wellesley Hospital. It was a surreal experience driving to the emergency room. I wasn’t in an ambulance, just a regular car. And there was that damn irony again, we could have been going anywhere. [MOU3] [MOU4] There I was, bleeding in the passenger seat, but there was no indication to the rest of the world that there was an emergent situation. No one knew I was hurting, inside and out, or that there was a wound acute enough to require stitches.

When we got to the hospital, Beau had me get out of the car so he could park. Upon entering the hospital, I was dismayed at how long the line was. I went all the way to the back and tried not to listen to other people’s conversations. I could smell the hospital: the pungent soapy yet flat geriatric scent that stops you from wanting to take a full deep breath in, the eye-watering bleach that they had used for God knows what, and the stench of stale discomfort and worry. I finally reached the front of the line and it was my turn to tell them why I was there. I strained to get the words out. “I’m here for self-harm”.

Suddenly, I’m treated like VIP. I don’t have to go back to the waiting room like everybody else. I now get to stay at the front of the line, and someone comes to check on me every 5 minutes. Finally, I’m brought back to a different part of the hospital along with a middle aged man who drank too much and took a spill. He keeps insisting that he’s not an alcoholic, and it becomes clear to me why they put us on the same unit: we were both there in a special part of the ER for those who purposefully harmed ourselves in some way. Or maybe it was that we were all dangers to ourselves. [MOU5] I was put on a bed in the hallway but I wasn’t there for long because someone from the psych[MOU6] team came to get me before offering me medical attention. The Psychiatry Triage team at Newton-Wellesley consists of independently licensed social workers. The way it works is people coming through the ER are first evaluated by the Emergency Department clinical team to ensure they are medically cleared. Then the social workers psychiatrically assess the patient to decide what the best level of care is for them. Looking back on this, it’s definitely weird that I wasn’t medically cleared first. Anyways, a nurse came to get me to help me put on scrubs. From there, the social worker and I went into an empty room and I was told to take any seat. I picked one and then was told to find another one, which to delirious me was the first sign that something wasn’t quite right.

The social worker sat far away from me and constantly had to lean in to hear me better. I told her what was going on, and that I wanted to do an outpatient program for Borderline Personality Disorder at McLean Hospital. This is a diagnosis I received in 2021. She laughed in my face and said it would take way too long to get off that waitlist. She asked me once if I wanted to go inpatient[MOU7] , but didn’t give me any information about the process. I declined, and she asked me why I had come to the hospital in the first place. I gestured toward my arm.

What is inpatient treatment you may ask? Here’s what I wish I knew when I was asked if I wanted to go…inpatient treatment is meant to be a short time in a psychiatric hospital to keep people safe during a mental health crisis. This is the most intensive treatment option for mental health, otherwise known as the highest level of care. What this term describes is different types of mental health treatment. This level of care includes hospitalization, whereas the lowest level of care refers to weekly or less often outpatient therapy sessions. Outpatient refers to a level of care in a non-residential setting where patients can live at home while participating in treatment. There are two main types of inpatient care: hospitalization and residential treatment. Hospitalizations are designed to be short term, often an overnight stay up to a few weeks long, and residential treatment often lasts 30 days or more. The focus of inpatient care is stabilization of the patient and developing a treatment plan for continuing their care once they are discharged. Hospitalizations are often thought of as a necessary safe place for those who are experiencing crisis, while residential treatment can help someone avoid a crisis before it escalates to that level. Inpatient can be voluntary which means you agree to seeking intensive care, or it can be involuntary which is referred to as involuntary or compulsory hospitalization where the person does not want to be at this level of care[MOU8] .

For context, inpatient units often look more like a college dorm than a hospital floor. There are both single and double rooms that often have their own bathroom that is shared with the adjacent room. There are also both group therapy and individual therapy rooms where you meet with psychiatrists, therapists, and group facilitators daily. There are common areas for eating, family visits, relaxing in places such as sensory rooms where there are comfortable chairs, fidget toys, and more, there’s always a nurses station where you take your meds, and there are offices for the staff and clinicians who you meet with on a weekly if not more frequent basis. This depends on if you are in a residential or hospital setting. These units are locked or secured environments, meaning that you cannot leave the unit without supervision. On the floor are a team of professionals including psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, case workers, nurses, nutritionists, recreational therapists, occupational therapists, and mental health technicians to name a few.

After this awful interaction with the social worker, I was brought back to my hallway bed and was told to sit tight. A doctor came over and questioned if I even needed stitches, so I showed him my arm and he quickly covered it back up and agreed. To give you a visual, puffy fat [MOU9] was visible from my open wound[MOU10] . At first the deep groove filled up with dark red blood and you couldn’t see anything underneath. When they finally removed the rudimentary bandage I had made, that’s when you could see the true damage. According to my boyfriend the cut was about 3 inches long by an inch wide. While the left side of it was thinner, the right side of the wound was gaping. Yellow fat was visible almost in the shape of a bubble drawn flower and it was protruding a tiny bit past the wound. I could see a small black spot that I later learned was a vein. The fat looked bumpy and textured. No butterfly bandage could hold together what I had done to myself.

Hospital staff came over with an EKG and then they finally put me in my own room where x ray came over to look at my arm. Then the doctor entered the room with a huge syringe. He squirted it into my open wound with no regard for my pain tolerance. Then he began sewing the skin on my upper arm back together. Oddly enough, he never asked if the numbing medicine had kicked in. I can’t quite describe the feeling of the needle, but it was strange, dull, and felt far away due to the numbness. It looked exactly like stitching clothing, a long needle with a thin piece of string except there was a hook for the stitch which entered my arm on either side of the wound. This created small holes that filled with blood too. He told me not to look but I couldn’t help myself. I was grotesquely in awe. As he dabbed at the blood flowing from my open wound I thought I might be sick. When he was done, I had 7 blue stitches on my left arm. The doctor left as quickly as he came.

Then the nurse who had helped me undress and put on scrubs came back in. I told her that I had had an awful experience talking to the social worker. She said, “I’m sorry” and then walked out. Anothernurse overheard the conversation and said she could talk to the social worker for me. I almost let her advocate for me, but I was too scared that the social worker would come in and try to talk to me again, so I said no. She said she could look in the nurses station to see if another social worker was available. I thanked her. She came back with a list of crisis hotline numbers. I left disappointed with no aftercare plan in place. I texted my therapist about it, and she said that particular social worker was known to be a bitch. It’s still insane to me that the last thing I got that night was stitches when that’s all I went in for. It would be understandable to delay my stitches if they had properly gotten me set up with inpatient or outpatient care, but as you can tell that was not the case. I vowed to not go back to Newton Wellesley in the event of another mental health crisis.

…

When I returned home, my therapist made it clear that if I self-harmed again I needed to go directly to the hospital. Her and my psychiatrist both thought I needed to go back to the hospital regardless, but I didn’t want to leave work. I thought that leaving work for a medical emergency meant I wasn’t a good employee. That I wasn’t dedicated enough. To this day, I still feel that way.

Alas, I hung in there. For those of you who don’t go to therapy, therapists often use the phrase “hang in there” when the session is over and you’ve just unloaded five years’ worth of trauma into a fifty-five minute slot. I have always hated the phrase because I feel like it is minimizing. You’re contemplating ending your life? Just hang in there[MOU11] . Anyways, I “hung in there” for three more days.

I don’t remember what time it was on August 19th that I made my decision. In my head I suddenly had a plan. I would pretend for the rest of the day that everything was fine, that I was in a positive mood, and then at night I would cut to the degree of needing stitches again and take myself to the ER. I was actually really nice and generous that day. I bought my roommate and partner dinner and drinks. I kept up appearances. My partner commented on how good of a mood I was in and I cheerily agreed, suggesting that my depression must have finally gone away. On the inside, I was on a mission. All I wanted was for my boyfriend to go to sleep that night. I didn’t want him to take me to the ER because he had already helped me get to the ER for self-harm three days prior. It didn’t feel fair to have him take me for a second time in the matter of one week.

Somehow, I forced myself to watch part of a movie with him. As soon as he started to doze off, I got to work on my plan. I located my scissors. I went into the bathroom. I normally cut horizontally on my left arm. In perfect dissonance, I decided to cut vertically on my right arm. The pair of scissors I was using had gotten dull from years of use. I could barely cut my skin. It was also awkward because I’m a righty, so using my left hand to cut vertically was a challenge. I was listening to Call Your Mom by Noah Kahan [MOU12] on repeat. The pre chorus and chorus really haunt me.

“Stayed on the line with you the entire night

‘Til you let it out and let it in

Don’t let this darkness fool you

All lights turned off can be turned on

I’ll drive, I’ll drive all night

I’ll call your mom”

At the time I didn’t realize how much I was contemplating suicide. The idea of having someone on the phone with me who I could talk to about these feelings rather than acton them would have changed the course of my life. Having someone remind me that the darkness that I was feeling was temporary might have made me make a different decision. That night, I really needed someone to call my mom.

I took one earbud out of my ear so I could hear if my partner woke up. In the bathroom I felt too far away from my room, so I moved to the couch. I used my flashlight on my phone to see what I was doing. He stirred. I freaked out. He got up to use the bathroom and I quickly shut off the flashlight and put a blanket over the bloody scissors and blood-soaked napkins. Somehow he didn’t get suspicious and went back to bed. I started thinking about what I would take with me to the ER. Underwear is a must. Computer, computer charger. Piece of paper from work about FMLA resources. Phone charger. Scrub pants. Comfy clothes.

I got a plastic bag for my dirty supplies. While cutting didn’t hurt on the 16th, it hurt every second on the early morning of the 20th. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I packed my bag, took one last look at my room, and left my apartment. As soon as I got outside I started hyperventilating. In a very unlike me fashion, I proceeded to text a bunch of my friends to ask if they were up. 2 responded, 1 was busy. I called my friend from home and told her I needed to go to the hospital. She stayed on the phone with me until I got in the Uber.

#bipolor #borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #depressing shit #tw depressing stuff #self h@rm #suicide squad #mental health #mental illness #actually mentally ill #mental instability #mental institution #inpatient

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