#for clarification I am not taking meds right now

[jestiamy]

oh my god is this what anxiety meds feel like

[librarycards]

what sorts of things do you think can help people deal with their mental illness besides therapy/meds? i’m not saying i disagree with anti-psychiatry, and i have had bad experiences with psychiatrists/therapists for multiple reasons, but what kinds of things actually help? i’m on wait lists for free therapy and multiple of them have long way lists and hotlines don’t help me, i feel at a loss. and i kind of feel like being being this mentally ill would be a burden upon any friend/partner i could potentially have. i honestly don’t know what to do bc i haven’t improved in years

first, a clarification: i'm not anti-med, i am only anti-forced treatment. i think you'll find many, though not all, anti-psych (and adjacent) ppl with this view, which is often shoehorned in with broad anti-med shit both because of the dubious history of some antipsych figures and because of strawmanning by pro psych forces. but i digress.

there is no simple solution for crisis/ongoing suffering, especially because the actual biggest help to all of us would be the abolition of white supremacy / ableism / carceral neoliberal capitalism / settler colonialism / cisheteropatriarchy. absent this, we're left trying to fill in the gaps, collectively, as best we can, while always acknowledging that we are putting interpersonal band-aids on systemic harms.

with all that being said, i think the best place to start would be to take stock of what and who you have as resources: are there any friends you feel comfortable sitting beside or watching a movie with, even if you don't feel ready or comfortable sharing "deeper" stuff with them? do you have internet people, or a place where you can shout into the void (like tumblr)? is there a public space you can go to, like a park, where you can at least get out of the house for a little while and be alone among others?

i personally take medication, though i'm tapering one of the last ones i'm on, and chose to discontinue the myriad pills i was prescribed as an involuntary psych inpatient. this isn't because meds are inherently evil, but only because i didn't like who i was when i was on them, nor could i tolerate the conditions under which they were forced on me. absent these meds, i have found other ways to move through my own brainstuff: occasionally weed (e.g. right now), more often forcing myself to sit next to other people who i know will make sure i don't do anything shitty to myself (even if we're not in active conversation). i have a bunch of youtube videos, books, audiobooks, podcasts, etc. on deck.

i have throughout the last few years cultivated an online and in-person community in which i'm not "burdening" / "dumping" my shit onto one or even a couple individuals all the time. you're right that the full extent of what we experience is definitely too much for one other interlocutor to take - we're designed to live in community, not in isolated couples. it's also true that, while occasionally and contingently helpful, a professional counselor or therapist can be inaccessible, abusive/violent, etc. etc.

while you're waiting to experiment with the free therapy you mentioned, it might be a good idea to reach out to people you do trust to have a frank, meta-conversation about your respective relational needs. this can feel weird at first, but i autistically love it, and it's also common in a lot of kink/bdsm communities (of which there's plenty of ND overlap haha). rules can be freeing. you don't have to worry about violating unspoken boundaries when you've spoken them, and established nonjudgemental ways of enforcing them and holding each other accountable when you haven't. in the past, i've established these both verbally and in google docs, etc. i've also established it - and found it especially helpful - in situations where myself and the other person(s) experience different axes of privilege and marginalization. but regardless, it's a great way of self-designing the boundaries that in many cases we expect therapy to do for us - except, without the carceral impulse endemic to the psych practice.

i also think it's okay to acknowledge that you might be a burden sometimes, and that the people who love you will carry you. they know you'll do the same for them. part of being in relation to others is sometimes receiving more than we give - it's part of being alive, being vulnerable. let yourself be cared for, let yourself be heavy. think about how good it feels to fall into bed at the end of the day. rest is the first step to feeling a little better.

[mdhwrites]

Do you have a mental illness?/im asking respectfully

I do appreciate the clarification though I've always strived to be open about this in general so as to increase visibility and awareness of such struggles.

I have depression, anxiety and avoidant personality syndrome. The third is a new diagnosis replacing an old bipolar diagnosis. I am also on mildly on the autism spectrum, though I'm still coming to terms with what that exactly means for me as only this year did I really try to figure out how that affects me personally. I have suffered from my mental illnesses for roughly 8-9 years and was officially decided as disabled by these issues by the US government four years ago come November and disability makes up the VAST majority of my income.

For those curious about how it affects me most commonly: I have trouble doing much of anything that causes me to focus or to think. I require distraction lest the storm in my brain come forward. This includes simple things like cooking, dishes, take walks, etc to complicated things like trying to simply listen to others for extended periods of time, get in character for acting, writing... *sigh*

My go to example for how bad this often can be for me is a tale from like five years ago now that still rings true where on a day I thought was good for me, I decided to do laundry. I bent over, started picking it up and promptly triggered my anxiety so hard as to shut down and break down for the rest of the day.

I LIVED in the same room as the laundry machines in that apartment at the time.

At this point medication isn't believed to be an answer for me due to having tried every class and type of anti-depressant/anxiety meds and I have tried anti-psychotics and found no success in those. I'm also currently at a point in therapy where people keep trying to teach me the same bits of mental toughness and coping skills I've done for years and it's increasingly looking like that if I want help attacking the roots of my issues, at least in therapy, I'll need to leave the people I've been working with over the past three years now. And start over. Again. Like I already have too many times.

Sigh

And the last thing I should cover is that my current state is... messy. Every couple of days I break down enough that I can't go on a morning walk like I want and today my brain screamed so badly that I considered it dangerous for me to drive to therapy. I don't normally consider myself to be a danger to myself, I know what I must do to avoid going into crises, but I haven't been writing much for a reason. My brain is just... Not good right now.

I have more I could expound upon, like more specifics on my journey, how my anxiety manifests not as thoughts but images and bodily reactions, or my interactions with crises services, but this seems enough just to kind of give an introduction to all of my new followers and the like.

And because I still believe it's a good glimpse into my brain, as well as just a solid story, my original book Crises Girlfriends, which is available on anything with a browser. Or, if the price is too high, the fanfic version which is effectively the same besides the names. Whatever makes it available for more people because the feedback I've gotten has given me the impression that it has been able to/can help people and if my experiences can do that, that means the absolute world to me. It's also just very personal for me and so means a lot to me.

Please everyone, take care of yourselves and have a wonderful day.

[jschoc]

story time. (pretty big post) ur in for a treat :D

today my day was pretty… mid. i had an appointment with my psychiatrist about increasing the dose of my meds— cuz she seriously wants to do that. i don’t want to RELY on meds right now so i want to hold off on it. but my mom brought up how she’s caught me vaping several times. i eventually explained to my psychiatrist that she’s trying to force me to quit cuz she will not accept it, but i don’t want to quit because i’m not ready. i know it’s a stretch… but nobody understood what i meant by ready.

the psychiatrist explained it’s not something you need to be ready for because the more you do it, the more you’re addicted. you see, what i meant was that currently it’s my coping mechanism— personally i find it better than hurting my body and leaving scars to remember for the rest of my life— i know that’s also kind of a stretch… but i need someone to understand quitting takes time. not even professionals are understanding this. i cant simply QUIT. by ready, i mean i need time to slow it down, find a new coping mechanism and etc. when i mentioned it being a coping mechanism… my psychiatrist said she would like to increase the dose of my meds to fix the stress. so… what?? you’re gonna keep increasing it to fix all my problems?? im not stupid. medication is not magic. i will not rely on medication. “but won’t you be relying on nic/drugs?” i find that something easier to control than everyday meds that will control my mood and behavior.

the thing is, medication isn’t a coping mechanism. it’s something to change you. you can argue that but that’s what i think. drugs are a coping mechanism that i don’t have to take every morning and rely on, it’s something that makes me feel better. i will quit when im ready. of course it may not be the healthiest, but self harm wasn’t either and i don’t see my mother continuously trying to control me because of it. there are healthy and unhealthy mechanisms, and everyone is different. i don’t need people to tell me vaping is bad. the thing is.. i don’t give a shit, period. all the life lessons i get over it… i heard it all. i will live my life the way i choose. it’s not like i’m sniffing cocaine and injecting heroine. it’s nicotine. it’s still bad but i’m not risking my life like i am by cutting. let. me. live. the. way. i. choose. forget im a minor and remember im a person that doesn’t need anyone’s clarification. fuck stupid psychiatrists putting people on meds. fuck non understanding parents. fuck everyone. except my besties ofc <3

[goat-yells-at-everything]

Just got home from the er.

I have never in my LIFE been treated so badly.

Started out fine. They were kind of busy but I was actually seen by triage relatively quickly. They said there were 4 people in front of me. The NP is concerned about a twisted ovary so she orders an internal sono, some blood tests, and a urinalysis.

Dude comes to get me for the sono.

Dude is the tech DOING the sono.

*concerned goat noises*

I'm not totally against male gynos and gyno techs, but considering i was bleeding by the end, I feel the concern was warranted. =/

I'll mention here that the NP had not just agreed to give me pain meds but had stated I needed them without me actually asking.

I figured I'd get the shot in the iv after the sono.

I did not.

The tech didn't take my urine sample either. He told me to take it to the front desk. They had me leave it on the counter.

This is important.

I go back to my seat and suffer in silence for several hours.

I finally get fed up but kindly ask if I can have the pain meds the NP said I'd get. Receptionist says she has to talk to the nurse. Fairly sure she never left the little reception cube before coming out to tell me I have to wait until I see a provider to get pain meds and there are now 7 people in front of me.

*confused and concerned goat noises*

Call mom to have her distract me cuse I'm in fucking PAIN.

After sobbing on the phone for half an hour I decide to get further clarification on why pain management isn't an option here.

She gives me the same bs answer and I ask to talk with the nurse. While I'm waiting next to the counter I look down.

And see the sample I'd left there. Untouched.

OVER TWO FUCKING HOURS LATER.

When I question this they claim that its not mine.

I point to my NAME on it.

They say its just "extra" and the tests have already been run.

The seal was not broken.

One of um grabs it and takes it away. The charge nurse comes out and im livid and ask why my urine sample was left sitting there, untested, for 2 hours? She says "but it was taken and tested. Look. Its gone."

I fucking kid you not she literally said that.

What_is_Gaslighting.jpg

So the nurse making the decisions on my care comes out and says all my tests and scans came back normal and there is no reason for me to be in as much pain as I'm saying I'm in.

And she offers me some otc tylenol.

Then. Fucking THEN.

Before I could respond she says in this fucking snarky voice "or were you expecting a narcotic?"

I demanded they remove the iv and I left.

Like, I've gone in in MUCH less pain before for a kidney stone that ended up being a uti and gotten Deloted right away. Suddenly I'm doubled over in pain curled in a ball in fucking OBVIOUS pain and I can't get shit.

I didnt go in for pain meds. I HAVE pain meds. I went in to find out WHY I was in pain.

I was perfectly willing to wait to be seen. If the tests did come back normal i can fully understand other people being seen before me. Dude came in at one point who had almost cut his fingers off with a saw so ya, some people needed attention first. But managing pain before being seen is kind of the POINT of a fucking ER. If I'd known they'd refuse to give me shit I'd have taken my own.

So I'll be taking more vicodin tonight and calling my doc in the am.

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 2

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she’d been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.

Chapter 2 - Consciousness

Words: 3.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: mentions of blood and broken bones, medical procedures

Read on AO3

~

It was the light of morning that caused my eyes to flutter open, the hardness of the tiled floor beneath slowly recognised in an increasing ache pulsing through my body.

I was slow to move, measured actions helping to bring myself into a seated position, arms shakily holding me up at the sides. Memories of the previous evening flooded back in swift succession, along with the pain of immense fatigue that always followed the act of letting the Force do my healing for me.

Did it even work?

My hand gripped the hospital bed that his body remained slumped on and I pulled myself upwards, feet gliding along the ground under my legs until I could stand. The scene before me was still shocking, even in remembering all that happened. Eventually, I noted the even breaths seeping in and out of the pilot’s chest.

He survived the night. Well done.

The numbers on the monitor confirmed what the voice had said. Heart rate steady. Oxygen levels optimum. Blood pressure higher than it had ever reached the night before. Looking over the battered and broken man, covered in dried blood that had spilled to the bed and floor, I felt a rush of emotion break free from its cage in my chest, unleashing an irrepressible urge to cry.

I sobbed quietly, knowing it was both relief and exhaustion that the tears crawled down my face. I wasn’t really sure why it hit me so hard. I didn’t even know this man, and somehow his survival at my hands was overwhelming, bursting at the seams with a happiness I’d never experienced for a patient before.

But then I recalled what I’d done to make it possible.

Fear struck like a spark in the centre of my chest, rippling its way through my veins.

There’s no way I could explain this as a simple act of medical miracle. He’d know. Then they’d know. And everything I’d built would come crumbling down. I’d have to find a new planet, a new home, build a new clinic, leaving everything behind.

I just wanted to heal people. I didn’t want to be a part of either of their worlds, and I didn’t want to d-

A croaky moan escaped from the pilot’s lips, his eyes moving underneath the lids, struggling to open. He groaned louder, and it became clear all too quickly he was starting to feel his extensive injuries. Panic set in, realising I hadn’t had time to give him any anaesthetic or pain relief.

This was going to be a rough wake up.

A piercing whimper bellowed from his chest, startling me into focus. With the trolley at hand I wrenched open the draws in search of anything with a pain-relieving quality and prepared the med-injector with heavy fluid. He’d already started to move his limbs, presumably in a way to understand what was happening, and another strained yell echoed in the room, sending a shiver rocketing down my spine. I jammed the needle into the IV cannula port, pushing in the medicine without much of a thought to appropriate dosage.

I just needed to stop him moving.

He began hollering even harder, tears welling in his eyes as he started to thrash against the mattress. Snatching at his wrists, I slammed them back down on the bed.

“It’s okay! You’re okay! I know it hurts but you’ve got to give the painkiller time to work. I promise it’s going to be alright!” 

His eyes flew open, an obvious distress burning from behind brown irises. They flickered over my blood-stained clothes, then locked into mine, pleading, begging for me to do something to take away the agony.

“I know,” I said softly, a more tender edge to my voice. “I know it hurts. I’m doing all that I can. Please just stay still. It will get better. Please.”

The pilot drew in a deep, haggard breath, his bottom lip trembling. Eventually his jaw clenched as our eyes remained fixed, a silent pact of trust hanging in the air. It took me by surprise, how easy it was to calm him, and I seized the chance to soothe him even further.

“My name is Alex, I’m a doctor,” I explained. “Your ship crashed just outside my clinic. You were hurt, badly. You fell unconscious and I brought you in here to treat your injuries.”

Such a simple explanation for the truly gargantuan effort I had performed.

I wonder if he’ll ever know how close to death he was.

It wasn’t the time to tell him now, not when he seemed so scared. There was some semblance of understanding in his features, dark bushy eyebrows furrowed in thought for a moment, only for his eyes to shut again as he withheld a pained cry. I released my grip from his right wrist, placing my hand in his to squeeze gently. An act of sympathy, something I had done many times for people in distress. Even the small movement was enough to make him yelp.

Kriff. I forgot his arm was broken.

“Sorry!” I squeaked. He was still wincing. “Let me try and fix that.”

It was obvious how wrong the angle appeared in his forearm, beginning to prepare more local anaesthetic into the injector handle. I shot the needle a few centimetres above the fracture, the pilot barely flinching. Compared to the rest of his injuries it would likely have felt like nothing at all.

“I need to set this okay? Your arm is going to feel numb in a minute or two. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

His nod was measured, careful not to move anymore than he had to. I left him for a moment to find my universal cast and a sling, giving the injection a few moments to filter through his tissue and into the nerves. When I returned I could see some of the pain medication had already started to take hold, the sting of discomfort in his eyes beginning to waver, his muscles losing their tension and relaxing ever so slightly into the mattress. I prepared the cast, cutting the shapes out for his fingers and thumb, getting it ready for quick application.

“Poe,” he said slowly, his voice croaky and filled with restraint. “My name is Poe.”

I met his gaze again, trying my hardest to put forward an aura of confidence, even in my exhaustion. “Nice to meet you, Poe,” I smiled. With a lightened touch, a finger trailed softly down his right forearm. “Can you feel this?”

“A little,” he whispered. It was clearly hard for him to find his voice again. “It’s kind of… fuzzy.”

“Do you think I could try and set your arm now? I can wait if you prefer.”

“I can handle it.”

Underneath his lips I could imagine gritted teeth, clenching hard, bracing for the pain. It occurred to me then maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d broken a bone.

Without another word I pulled the X-ray unit’s arm up towards his fracture site, hoping he didn’t notice the splashes of his blood smattering the machine. Pressing down on the image button revealed a better picture in comparison to the absolute mess his femur had been. Only his radius was broken, in an even line, no splintering to be seen.

Finally something easy.

With two hands around his arm on either side of the fracture, I poised myself for a quick pull and twist. Poe’s muscles tensed underneath my grip.

“Just try to relax, it will make it much easier,” I insisted.

He drew in a deep breath, and the tension released from underneath my fingertips. I’d learned in my experience not to tell patients exactly when I was going to perform something painful. Something about the surprise of it somehow made it hurt less. So with one fluid movement I pulled and rotated the bone back into place, knowing even before I shot the X-ray it would be aligned. Poe was crushing his eyelids closed, waiting for me to move again.

“It’s okay, I got it.”

His eyes opened, meeting me with a look of surprise. I’d already begun to position the cast, bending the malleable plastic to the contours of his limb.

“First try?” he marvelled. I nodded, while trying to rein in my ego. “Never had someone get it on the first try.”

I swallowed hard. “I, uh... I wasn’t so lucky with your femur.” I flicked through the previous X-rays, pointing to the multiple shots of my attempts to fix the break. His eyes widened, mouth in a small ‘o’.

“That was my leg?” he gasped, “And you put it back?”

Both of our eyes glanced to the wound on his thigh. It was closed.

But I didn’t put any bacta on it.

Poe’s disbelief distracted him from my own. What I’d done last night with my crude attempt at Force healing had managed to not only mend the life-threatening severing of his artery, but also somehow pulsed enough energy to knit his wound back together, leaving a sealed laceration where the deep hole had been. Dread filled me again, weighing down so forcefully I didn’t want to move.

How am I going to explain this?

“T-thank you. For getting the bacta into it so quickly. Must have some good quality stuff.”

Thank every particle in the universe. He suspected nothing.

I moved slightly to position myself in front of the trolley that stored evidence of the low quality bacta solution and salve I had used for his chest wound and burns, and feigned a smile of appreciation.

“Just doing my job.”

All of a sudden it seemed to hit him, the situation he was in. His questions came out in rapid fire, desperate for clarification.

“Wait, where am I? What happened to my ship? Where’s BB-8?”

He began to rise from the mattress, wincing at the many injury points as he pulled himself into an upright position on the bed. The quick movement evidently made him dizzy, as he pulled his newly casted arm onto the bed railing to stabilise a wobble.

“Woah, just hold on a minute there,” I snipped, doctor mode engaged. “You’ve still got some serious injuries that need time to heal. Nasty burns, a collection of broken bones and the remnants of a punctured lung. Now bacta can be a miracle cure but it still needs more time before you start moving around again, or you’re going to ruin all the progress I made.”

Poe looked as if he was going to argue, but as my eyes bore into his, he recoiled back into the bed, sighing from both the pain of movement and the lack of answers.

“I was in the middle of an important mission okay?” he stressed. “There are people who are waiting on me. I need to get a message back to the Resistance. To tell them I’m out of commission.”

I tensed. The thought of the Resistance coming here to pick up their injured pilot was enough to make my heart beat faster. Sure, maybe Poe didn’t suspect anything, but the likelihood of convincing force sensitive people like Leia Organa, or the scavenger girl….

Attempting to fool them into thinking I’d healed this man with a bit of brute force and bacta would be near on impossible. But I couldn’t prevent Poe from contacting anybody without arousing even more suspicion. I’d just have to go along with whatever he wanted until I could formulate some kind of plan.

“Alright, how about I get you my transmitter and you promise not to try and move until I say so?” I offered, the tone in my voice not really implying that no could be an appropriate answer.

“Sure thing doc,” he agreed.

Maker, I hate when people call me that.

I made my way over to my tech station, using the moment to give him a couple of the answers he’d been so desperate for. “You’re on a remote clinic on Raxus, about 3000 kilometres- uh… klicks, from Raxulon. Your ship… Well, I haven’t been outside since it exploded at my front door. And your droid unit… I haven’t seen.” I realised quickly how insensitive this information came out when I looked up from my rummaging to Poe’s horrified expression. He began to sit upwards again, giving even less care to his wounds, forcing me to rush back to stop him. “I haven’t checked outside yet!”

“Why haven’t you been out there?” he demanded, eyes flaming.

“Maybe because I was stuck in here saving your life? And how was I supposed to know you had an astromech droid with you?”

He huffed, seeing the logic in my question. “Can you please check if BB is okay?”

I raised an eyebrow, curious at how much emotion he was committing to this piece of equipment. All of the medical droids I’d come into contact with over the years were extremely flat personality wise. Intelligent and useful, but I’d never grown any type of attachment to them. Nothing like Poe seemed to have with this BB-8 droid.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll go look for the BB unit. Just please stay in bed. And… prepare for the worst.”

Underpromise, overdeliver. One of the many phrases I’d recited during my medical training. I just really hoped the latter would be the case in this situation.

The latch of the clinic door closed softly behind me, the crisp morning atmosphere somewhat refreshing for a moment or two, until I shook myself into focus to assess the completely destroyed X-wing ship consuming my vision. With sunshine finally illuminating the environment, rolling green hills of the countryside extending beyond the horizon, I scanned the blackened metal skeleton of the ship, ashes smattered all over the ground, glass and electrical wires splayed everywhere.

Well, this doesn’t exactly ignite hope.

Walking around what was left of the X-wing, I examined the surrounding area for any trace of a droid - not just the shine of metal, but the possible tracks left by a robot who was looking for its master. I walked slowly into the field behind the crash site, my eyes surveying every bit of ground, hoping to see any metallic glint that might indicate an intact droid.

Since the clinic was the only building for a few kilometres, there was hardly another structure it could be hiding behind, or lodged in. I almost wanted to keep walking, washing my hands of all of this, so I didn’t have to go back and tell Poe his obviously beloved droid hadn’t survived like he did. But another ruined machine caught my attention.

My comm-tower was flattened into nothing - steel, wiring and black plastic flattened into an artificial pancake.

Kriff, more bad news for Poe.

With my only means of communication squished there was no way any of my tech could send a signal far enough to reach the Resistance, let alone the next village over. And now I would have to make the weeklong trek back to Raxulon to get another one.

This day is kicking my ass.

With a long sigh, I ventured towards the ruined X-wing, assuming if I hadn’t found BB-8 by now, it must have been pulverised by the explosion I narrowly avoided last night. I searched the hollow structure of the ship, hoping for any scrap of metal that could be related to the droid, but it was all so black, covered in soot and melted, everything beginning to mutate into some other portion of the machine. When I skimmed over what was left of one of the wings, there was still a rounded hole I assumed BB-8 would have been housed during flights. An empty hole. There was always a possibility the BB droid could have gone searching for help beyond my clinic, but again, there wasn't a trace of movement in the dirt track leading away to the nearest village.

I think it’s time to be the bearer of bad news.

I extricated myself from the mangled ship, looking back towards the front walls of my clinic, noticing now the remnants of the explosion that had left countless dark stains over the light blue paint, along with a few cracks and impact points where metal had hit the cement. The bushes I’d planted a few months ago in time for this planet’s version of spring had been scorched, most of the green overtaken by grey and black soot. On closer inspection, it became obvious one had been split in half, the edges of leaves opening up to a large gap.

I quickened my pace and kneeled in front of the jumbled shrub, my hands diving in to push burnt leaves out of way, finally discovering a large metal ball of orange and white leaning on the blue concrete wall. A little cracked and dirty, but seemingly intact.

Oh wait, where’s the head?

Scurrying around on my hands and knees, I felt around the bushes once more, moving along the line of the wall. The twigs were scraping against the skin of my arms, but I was too excited for the possibility of some good news that I ignored the sting they caused.

Unexpectedly my hand struck something hard, pushing the stiff lower branches out of my view to find a domed head dug into the ground. Picking it up, I brushed away some of the dirt, surveying for any obvious damage. Its antennae was crooked, a few deep scratches slicing the metal, but it all seemed fairly superficial. With the head in hand, I strode back to the body unit, beaming with the thought I could ease even a little bit of Poe’s worry.

My delight was swiftly dissolved when setting the pieces together. I’d assumed the magnet would hold and the droid would spring back to life. Instead, the head slipped straight off, sinking into the ground once more with a muffled thud.

Yeah, that seems about right.

*

“I have good news and bad news,” I declared sheepishly as I walked into view of Poe, lugging in a separated BB-8. His face burst into an illustration of relief, then confusion as his brain finally registered the image of his dear friend separated into two pieces, and lifeless.

As I placed the metal components onto the hospital bed at the side of Poe’s leg, he looked up at me. “This is the bad news right?” His hands tentatively checked over the BB unit, attempting what I had done not minutes ago, and watched the head piece slide back over the metal ball and dive into the mattress.

“Um… Actually… This was meant to be the good news,” I grimaced. “The bad news is that my comm-tower was completely flattened by your ship. None of my transmitter tech is going to be able to send out any messages until I can get another one built.”

Poe’s jaw clenched, and I only noticed now the dark stubble that glittered the lower half of his face.

“And when would that be exactly?” he queried sharply. I didn’t like the tone of his voice.

“At least another week if I left now. But I can’t leave you like this, you’re still in critical condition.”

It was obvious he was hiding his frustration, hands scrunched into balls. “They can’t wait that long.”

I scrambled at any answer that might settle him. “I mean, maybe some of the villagers could help, but there’s no guarantee-”

“Then get them to help!” he exploded, making me step back. At seeing the startled look on my face he softened, realising the severity of his demand. “I’m sorry, but this is just… so important. I know you’ve already done more than I could have ever asked of someone, but I still need more of your help. The fate of the galaxy depends on it.” His eyes glistened with hope, a silent plea, sending a cold wave of unease down my spine. He held a bandaged arm out, hand open, reaching toward me.

I didn’t want to be a part of this. It was exactly what I had run from for so long. Even now the immediate urge was to bolt out the front door, leaving behind this stranger who could unravel everything I’d built.

But there was something about the expression on his face, the desperation in his eyes, calling out to me. I was all he had right now. I was his only lifeline to put him back on whatever journey he had been travelling before fate made him, quite literally, crash into me.

“I mean, if the fate of the galaxy depends on it…” I mumbled, placing my hand tentatively in his. “Okay. I’ll help you get back home.”

~

Next Chapter

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[allthingsfangirl101]

How To Save A Lifeguard–Matt Brody

Zac Efron Masterlist

Matt Brody is the most annoying, egotistical, manwhore I have ever met. He thinks that every girl he meets has to fall in love with him. Well, not me. I can't stand the sight, sound, or the air around him.

And he hates it.

Which just makes it all the more fun.

"Hey, Y/N."

"Matt," I said through my teeth, not looking away from my book. "I am on break. Break means lunch, water, shade, and no you. You are not on a break which means you should be anywhere but here."

"Come on, Y/N," he laughed. I ignored as he walked up to me and sat across from me. "Why won't you play with me? We can take our breaks together."

"Brody!"

We turned around to see Mitch standing in the doorway. "Will you please leave her alone? She has turned you down so many times, I'm starting to lose track."

I sent him a sweet smile as I held back my laughter. Matt glanced over at me, before clenching his jaw.

"And she's right," Mitch added. "You are not on break. Get back to the beach. Now."

"Fine," Matt said between his teeth. He glanced over at me and I sent him a playful pout. As he stood up, Mitch and I watched him leave. When he was finally gone, Mitch turned back towards me.

"I'm sorry, kid." He sighed. "You know how Olympians are; they think they are entitled to whatever they want. And what he wants is you."

"I wish I could change that," I mumbled as I grabbed my book. He laughed as he patted me on the back and grabbed a water.

A couple of days later, I walked into the lifeguard hut to see Matt and Mitch in a very heated discussion. They quickly stopped talking when I walked in.

"Everything okay?" I asked slowly as I grabbed my water from the fridge.

"Do you know. . ."

"No," Mitch instantly cut him off. "She doesn't need to get involved in this. We aren't even sure what this is."

"Anyway," I cleared my throat. "Mitch, I need to ask for two weeks off."

"Yeah? How come?"

"My mom is having surgery and I just want to be there for her. I know two weeks is a long time and we only have a week off normally but I. . ."

"Y/N," Mitch laughed, cutting me off. "Take as much time as you need. Family is important. I hope everything goes well with your mom."

"Thanks," I smiled. Mitch patted my shoulder as he passed me and left the lifeguard shack. I looked over at Matt and sighed.

"What?" I asked, turning back around and putting my stuff away.

"Why is your mom having surgery?" He asked.

"She was diagnosed with breast cancer a few months ago," I sighed. "They are removing the lump."

"Wow," Matt said. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. That's terrible."

I just shrugged as I grabbed my gear and headed outside, not sure what to take from this sudden change in Matt Brody.

                       * * * * *

Throughout the week before I left for my mom's surgery, I noticed Mitch and Matt constantly whispering to each other. They've been working late and even switched schedules so they worked at the same time. I never asked what was going on because I knew whatever it was, they didn't want me involved.

I had just gotten to the shack, putting my stuff away, when the door slammed open. I turned around and saw Mitch, Matt, Holden, and C.J. walking in.

"Whoa, what happened to you guys?"

"Ask him," Holden said through her teeth as she nodded towards Matt. I raised my eyebrows when I saw the look on his face.

"I said I was sorry," he mumbled as he walked past me.

"Do I wanna know?" I asked C.J.

"Nope," she said popping the "p".

I glanced over at Mitch to see him shaking his head. I followed him into his office and knocked on the open door as he sat down.

"Hey, kid. Come on in." He said, gesturing towards a chair.

"Hi, sorry. I just wanted to talk to you about. . . Well, my mom's surgery is this weekend. I just wanted to double-check that it was still okay for me to go."

"Y/N," he said chuckling. "We will miss you but we'll be just fine. Go home and take the time you need to help her out."

"Thank you," I said, not meaning to sound as relieved as I came off. "I normally wouldn't take this much time off at a time but. . ."

"Y/N, sweetheart." He cut me off. He walked around and sat on the edge of his desk in front of me. "I told you. Take as much time off as you need. You are one of my best lifeguards, which means I know this is real. I know you truly are going to take care of your mom and not going on vacation. Don't worry about us or the beach. Focus on your mom."

"Thanks, Mitch." I stood up and gave him a hug. He laughed as he hugged me back.

"Give your mom a hug for me," he whispered. He pulled out of the hug and put his hands comfortingly on my shoulders. "And thank her for raising such an amazing daughter."

"Shut up," I laughed as I pushed him away, making him laugh.

"It's true," he shrugged. "You are."

I rolled my eyes and turned around, starting to walk out of his office as I said, "Thanks, boss."

I froze outside his office when I noticed Matt watching us. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he stuttered before walking to his locker. I watched him for a second before shrugging and grabbing my supplies for my shift.

"Okay then," I mumbled as I walked outside.

                       * * * * *

"Y/N."

I gasped when I felt someone grab me and pull me into the lifeguard shack. When the lights turned on, I saw Matt standing in front of me with wide eyes.

"Matt!" I yelled through my teeth as I pushed him away from me. "What the hell is your problem?! You can't just grab someone like that!"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Look, I know you hate me and think I'm disgusting. But I really need to talk to you."

"Why?" I sighed, my heart rate finally going back to normal.

"Because you are the only level-headed person I know," he said taking a step towards me. "And your dad is the deputy."

"How did you know. . ." I mumbled.

"Mitch told me," he rushed out. "He also told me that you were working as a lifeguard during the summer to pay off student loans for med school. Anyway, Mitch debated telling your dad because he didn't want you getting sucked into this and getting hurt."

"Matt," I said slowly. "What is going on? What is there to get sucked into and why would you need my dad?"

"Thorpe fired Mitch."

"What?! Why would he. . . Matt, what the hell has been going on around here? I took two weeks off to go help my mom with her surgery and I come back and Mitch has been fired?"

"It's kind of a long story," Matt stuttered.

"Then tell it slowly, Brody," I said through my teeth as he sat down on the couch. He sighed as he ran his finger through his hair. I stood in front of him and crossed my arms over my chest. "Now."

"Do you remember that private yacht caught fire a couple of days before you left?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "And we had to save your ass when you dove directly under the flames. That was the night Councilman Rodriguez died. That's it."

"Actually," he said slowly.

"Son of a. . ." I mumbled as I sat across from him. "What else?"

"Well, Mitch and I looked into it."

"Even though Ellerbee told you to leave it alone?" I asked, sending him a knowing look.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Anyway, we attended a party that Leeds held."

"And?"

"And nothing," he elongated. "So we ended up going to the hospital morgue."

"Wait, what?" I scoffed. The seriousness in his voice and on his face made me nervous.

"I know it sounds weird but we found out that two of Leeds' henchmen were forging an autopsy to cover up that Leeds killed Rodriquez."

"Whoa," I interrupted him. "Slow down, Matt. That doesn't. . . That doesn't make any sense. Why would she want him dead?"

"We weren't sure, so we tried to find out."

"How?" I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.

"Well, Mitch and I went undercover so we could sneak into her club kitchen."

"What?! Matt, do you hear how crazy this sounds?"

"I know, okay?" Matt sighed as he stood up and started pacing back and forth in front of me. "But when we went undercover, we saw her workers getting drugs that were hidden in barrels of fish."

"Drugs hidden in the barrels of fish?" I asked for clarification. "So, Leeds is a secret drug lord? Wait, is this how Mitch got fired? Thorpe found out you guys were out of our jurisdiction, didn't he?"

"Yeah," he sighed, sitting back down.

"How could you do that to him, Matt? I know you're a stuck-up, arrogant Olympic asshole who doesn't give a shit about anyone but yourself. But, like it or not, we're a family here. We stick up for each other."

"I know that," he stuttered.

"How could you do this? Matt, how could you take the job away from Mitch? He's devoted his whole life to keeping this beach safe and you. . ."

"I didn't have a choice!" Matt yelled, cutting me off. "I didn't want to take the job. In fact, I wanted to walk out with Mitch."

"Then why didn't you?" I asked, my voice soft. He opened and closed his mouth, angrily running his hands through his hair.

"I had no choice, okay?" I watched as he sat back down, his shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry, Matt," I mumbled. He looked up at me, his eyes soft. "I shouldn't have jumped at you like that. I just. . . I'm sorry."

I stood up and it was my turn to start pacing. "What the hell are we going to do? We have to get Mitch his job back."

"I've thought about that!" Matt jumped up. "Yesterday, I saw sand grifters steal bags using a cooler. I tackled them and stole the cooler."

I watched as he walked to the office, coming back with a red cooler in his hands.

"And," he continued, "I found another pouch of flakka on the beach. What I need from you is the autopsy for the second body they found."

"Matt," I sighed.

"I know," he interrupted me. "I know how this all sounds. And I know that it's a lot to ask for but. . ."

"I already have it," I cut him off.

"You do?" He stuttered. I stood up and walked over to my locker. I got my laptop out and brought it over to the table. I opened it and pulled up the autopsy.

"Before I left, I used my medical school access to get the autopsy of the councilman and I'll admit; it did seem off. When I looked more into it, the fire was a cover-up. So, I got access to the second autopsy and look."

I showed him the screen and stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"That doesn't look like a shark bite," Matt mumbled.

"Because it's not," I sighed. "Matt, the guy you found was stabbed."

"What?" He asked as he turned around.

"The cut is too perfect. A shark bite would be rougher, torn more. Not a perfect slice."

"Holy shit," he mumbled. I watched as Matt stared at the screen, trying to piece everything together.

"I need to get back on Leeds' boat," he mumbled.

"What? Are you crazy?"

I grabbed his hand, stopping him from leaving. "Matt, look at me. You can't go back there. Last time, you almost died. If you go back. . ."

"I'll be fine," he chuckled.

"Matt," I said, my breath getting caught in my throat. The look on my face must've been bad because he gently grabbed my shoulders.

"Y/N, I'm going to be fine. I promise."

He was about to leave the shack again but I quickly said, "I hacked into her servers."

"You what?" He asked, spinning around.

"I hacked into her serves earlier and I found out her plan. It's. . . It's not good, Matt."

"What did you find?"

"She has plans to privatize the entire beach by buying out or eliminating every competing business owner," I explained.

"Eliminating?" He repeated. "Shit."

I nodded as I wrapped my arms around myself. "Matt, this is bigger than two lifeguards can handle. We need to go to the police."

"We can't," he said, sounding like he was in another place right now. "But what if. . .

"Matt, don't. . ."

"I gotta go."

"Wait, what? Matt!"

I tried to run after him but he was gone.

                       * * * * *

"Slow down, sweetheart." My dad soothed through the phone. "Just take a breath and tell me what happened."

"I don't know," I stuttered. "All I do know is that Matt and Mitch were onto something involving Leeds' before she got Mitch fired. I think. . . Dad, I think Matt went to handle her on his own."

"To be honest, we thought Councilman Rodriquez's death was suspicious and with everything you just said, it makes sense that Leeds had something to do with it. Thorpe too if he fired Mitch just like that."

"Wait," I cut him off. "Do you think Matt is in trouble?"

"I thought you didn't care for Matt Brody," my father said knowingly.

"I don't," I stuttered. "I just. . . He's a coworker. . ."

"Sure," he laughed. "I'll pretend to believe you."

"Dad," I sighed. "What should I do?"

"I wish I could help you, kiddo, but the ocean is a little out of my jurisdiction."

"So, what?" I scoffed. "We just let Matt go out there and get killed?"

"Of course not," my dad said quickly. "But if you brought them to land, then I could arrest them."

                       * * * * *

I got to work early the next day and eagerly waited for Matt. My nerves jumped every time the lifeguard shack door opened, my heart jumping into my throat and then sinking into my stomach when it wasn't him.

I walked out onto the beach and looked around. I scanned the beach, finding no sign of Matt.

"Where the hell are you, Brody?"

I tried to focus on the people on the beach, making sure they were safe, but I couldn't stop wondering where Matt was. At the end of my shift, I headed into the lifeguard shack and sat down in Mitch's/Matt's office.

I sucked in a breath when I saw a note scribbled down on a post-it. From all the stupid notes Matt has left on my lunch over the past few months, I knew that it was in his sloppy handwriting.

Leeds' yacht Southward Dock 8 pm shipment

I checked the time and quickly grabbed the keys to the lifeguard jet ski. I grabbed a lifejacket and threw it on as I headed to the jet ski. I quickly pushed it into the water and headed to the Southward dock.

I slowed down when I saw Leeds' yacht pull out of the dock. I swore under my breath as I put the jet ski into high gear and sped off after it. When it finally came to a stop, I drove around to the back where I could hide my jet ski in a blindspot.

I snuck on and quickly started searching the ship for any sign of Matt. I had just about searched every inch and about ready to give up when I heard a familiar voice.

"You can't do this!"

I peeked around the corner to see two men dragging Matt to the edge of the boat. My eyes widened when I saw them lift a bait cage, ready to shove Matt into it. Before I could stop it, a gasp left my lips too loudly. I quickly covered my mouth and hid back around the corner. I held my breath and waited before peeking my head back over.

"I can and I'm gonna," Leeds laughed. She snapped her fingers and her two goons roughly grabbed Matt, ready to throw him into the bait cage.

"Such a shame to hurt a pretty face like yours," she sighed. "Maybe after we get rid of you, I'll go after that little female lifeguard you seem to be spending so much time with these days. What's her name? Y/N?"

I heard him grunt angrily as he tried to fight his way free. For a brief second, his eyes found me hiding. He instantly recognized me and sent me a pleading look, begging me to turn and run. I shook my head as I took a hesitant step towards them.

He started to fight against the two men, desperately trying to get to me. I covered my mouth when one of the guys hit him, grabbed him, and dragged him to the edge of the boat.

"One final thought before you take a swim," Leeds' said teasingly. "You were right about me being involved in Lieutenant Mitch's unfortunate firing. Just so you know, I bribed Thorpe into firing him and replacing him with you, the nieve Olympian who would be too stupid to realize what we were doing."

My heart sank when I saw the look in Matt's eyes. Leeds leaned down and pressed a teasing kiss to Matt's forehead before her goons threw him into the cage.

I covered my mouth with both hands, holding in a scream as the three of them kicked the cage into the water. Their laughter echoed in my head as they walked away. It was hard to breathe as I watched the cage sink, Matt struggling inside.

Once Leeds' and her men were out of sight, I dove off the boat. By the time I caught up to Matt, the cage was already at the bottom. I grabbed the cage, pulling myself down. Matt rolled over, his eyes widening when he saw me.

I pulled a bobby pin out of my hair and started fiddling with the lock. Thanks to my dad and his paranoia of having a daughter, he taught me to hotwire a car, get out of a zip tie, and pick a lock. Matt watched as I struggled to get the cage unlocked.

I looked up, a scream getting stuck in my throat when I noticed Matt struggling to stay awake. I tried to reach through the cage and touch him, but I couldn't reach. I grunted angrily and forced myself to focus on unlocking the cage. My vision blurred as I finally got it unlocked.

I reached in to grab Matt and pulled him out. Once he was in my arms, I kicked off the seafloor and swam us up to the surface. When we broke through, I let out the breath I'd been holding.

I tightened my arms around him as I swam us towards the jet ski. I rested him on the side before pulling myself up. It took all of my strength to pull Matt up onto the jet ski.

I laid him on the seat, his head towards the end, and took off his gag. I leaned over him and held my breath so I could hear his.

"Shit," I mumbled when I couldn't hear any air leaving or entering his body. I sat up and quickly started chest compressions. It was hard to balance a jet ski on the water while standing and trying to give someone CPR.

I leaned down and tilted his head back. I placed my lips over his, giving him mouth-to-mouth. I sat up and quickly started doing chest compressions again. My confidence slowly sank the longer it took for me to wake him up.

"Come on, Matt," I mumbled. "Please don't. . . Please come back to me."

The second I pulled my lips away from him, he coughed up water. I rolled him onto his side so he could get the water out of his lungs. Once he was done coughing, I gently rolled him back over.

"Matt?" I said out of breath. "Are you okay? Talk to me. Please."

He slowly opened his eyes, it taking him a second before he recognized me.

"Y/N?" He said, his voice soft. "You saved me."

"If you forgot," I chuckled, "that's kind of our job."

I held my breath as he slowly sat up. He looked around as he ran his fingers through his wet hair. "Where are we?"

"About ten miles outside Southward Dock."

My cheeks turned red when I saw the way Matt was looking at me. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he stuttered.

"We should get back to shore," I stuttered, clearing my throat. "My dad and the sheriff are waiting for us. They have some questions before they can arrest Leeds and Thorpe."

I sat in front of him, instantly turning the jet ski on. Matt sat up, scooting closer to me.

"Want me to drive?" He asked.

I looked over my shoulder at him, sending him a knowing look. He put his hands up in defense and laughed before wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Just kidding," he said, his smirk coming through in his voice. "I see you still don't like jokes."

"Only when you tell them," I playfully shot back.

                       * * * * *

When we got back to shore, EMTs were waiting for Matt, and my father was waiting for me. As my dad and the sheriff talked to me, I was distracted by watching the EMTs take care of Matt. Several times, he looked over at me and sent me a reassuring smile.

When they were finally done talking to me, the sheriff and my dad went to talk to Matt. As they figured out how to handle Thorpe, I forced myself to go back to the lifeguard shack. I was putting away supplies when the shack door opened. I turned around, my breath getting stuck in my throat when I saw Matt standing in the doorway.

Before I could stop myself, I ran over to him. I jumped into his arms, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. He was shocked for a second before I felt him wrap his arms tightly around me.

When the relief wore off and the embarrassment set in, I quickly let him go, wrapping my arms around myself.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I just. . . I thought you were. . . I thought they might. . ."

"Y/N," he cut me off as he gently grabbed my hands. "I'm okay. Thanks to you."

He let me go when he realized he was holding me longer than necessary. I looked up at him, both of us slightly embarrassed. I bit my lip, nervously chewing on it as silence fell between us. I looked back over at him when he cleared his throat.

"And here I was thinking you hated me," he scoffed.

I sent him an annoyed look as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "Really?" I sighed. "After everything, you go back to being your cocky asshole self? Can't we just. . ."

Matt cut me off by pulling me into his chest and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and instantly started moving my lips against his.

Just as fast as he initiated it, Matt broke the kiss. He pressed his forehead to mine, slightly rubbing our noses together.

"Thanks," he whispered, "for saving my life."

"Anytime," I shrugged, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's what lifeguards do."

[wisewidow]

The One With The Missed Calls

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

SUMMARY: My girlfriend just saved the world from an alien invasion and I haven't seen her for days. When she shows up, I plan to yell, and end up crying.

The song Billie Jean strays into my ears as I drop my duffel bag at my feet and shut the door behind me. I sigh, taking off my shoes and coat, and am greeted by Smithie, the tricolour cat I shared with my girlfriend. He yowls at me.

"I know, baby, I'm late, and you're hungry. And I forgot to turn off the radio." I bend down and go to scratch behind his ears, but he meows harshly and runs back down the hall and into the living room.

"Smith!" I yell. "Your bowl is in the kitchen!"

No response.

I sigh. Working eighty hours a week at the second busiest hospital in the state is draining enough, but add the fact that aliens just invaded yesterday, and my workload has increased by a tenfold. I want to cuddle my cat, and my girlfriend, but unfortunately one is busy plastered all over the news for saving the world in the aforementioned attack and therefore preoccupied with work, and the other is upset at the lack of his other mommy.

So no cuddles for me. Just an empty apartment and a sink full of dishes.

I grumble under my breath, ridding myself of the sweaty scrubs I didn't have time to change out of at work and dropping them on the floor as I walk to my bedroom. I dutifully ignore the framed picture of me and Nat on top of my dresser and pull out an old graphic tee and gym shorts. Then I pad into the joined bathroom and shower.

Once I'm fresher and changed, I go to the kitchen to soothe my hunger. Smithie starts yowling again from the living room. "Your bowl is full!" I call back to him, grabbing the closest cereal box I find.

As I'm pouring the milk in, Smithie runs into the kitchen and meows at me. Starting to get irritated, I exaggerate a meow back. He circles my feet, almost tripping me up as I put the carton back in the fridge. "Smith!" I yelp. "What's wrong with you?" I bend down.

He meows again, sounding urgent this time. I frown. He runs back down the hall.

I'm on alert now. Having a girlfriend working as a higher up agent in S.H.I.E.L.D. has taught me to know when something isn't right. It could be something simple like another stray cat outside setting Smithie on edge, or someone could have followed me home after I failed to save a patient they were close to. That stuff happens all the time in New York. And a lot of people had died since the Chiutari invaded.

I grab the scariest looking kitchen knife I own, and then freeze, remembering the whole do no harm oath I took when I graduated med school. I put it down and grab the taser Natasha had stashed by the cupboard.

I walk lightly down the hall, thankful for the darkness and the noise of the city outside that masks my footsteps. Hand on the button that activates the taser, I kick open the door and turn the light on.

My heart's beating fast, but I see nothing at first as I do a sweep of the living room. It's a bit cramped, since we don't need much space for a table due to the fact that between Nat being sore and tired after work and me working long hours, we normally eat dinner in bed watching Criminal Minds. The sofa is pressed against one wall, the TV hanging on the wall opposite, and shelves line the wall next to that. It's a small, open space, and no one's there. I frown and lower the taser. "Smithie, what the hell were you freaking out—"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I look at the window. Smithie is perched on the windowsill, watching my girlfriend try to pick the lock to the window on the fire escape. "—about." I finish with a smile. I toss the taser onto the couch and start disabling the advanced security system on the window that Natasha herself had put up to keep me safe while she was away and push the window open.

"Hey, honey," says Natasha awkwardly. "I'm home."

I scoop up Smithie, standing back so she can climb through. She lands on the ground with a thump and slams the window shut.

"You know I love my job, but I really hate it sometimes. Had to come through the window so the press wouldn't harass me." She starts unzipping her black bodysuit, stopping to scratch Smithie's ears and then heading to the kitchen. I set the cat down and follow as she continues. "Working with Stark and Rogers was a nightmare. Having to beat up my best friend was a good stress relief, of course, but jeez! I'd rather take on another alien army than be stuck in a room with that much testosterone again. Hey, this place is a mess, you know that, right? And cereal for dinner? Really? Oh, did I mention I saved the world today and as a reward had to deal with hours of press and paperwork and— ooh, you stress baked."

She plucks a brownie from the fridge and starts munching on it absent-mindedly. I wait for her to finish the piece, arms crossed.

That's when she notices the expression on my face. "(Y/N)? Are you crying?"

I take a deep breath, and say, calmly, "no." Then a tear falls down my cheek and suddenly I'm sobbing. "You left saying for work assuring me it was an ordinary day and then you don't come home, you don't call! And then I get called into work because fucking aliens are invading from a hole in the sky and killing people! And you save the world, congratulations, that's fun, but still no call! No, "Hello, (Y/N), I'm not dead or dying, I'm not even safe though, I'm on the front lines, fighting with— with— the friggin' Hulk, and Captain America!" And then you do interviews with the press and make statements and, what? Fill out paperwork? While I sit here with the cat and worry!"

I finish the last word with a pant, and dry my eyes. She's eyeing me carefully, waiting to see if I'm done. I'm not really, but I can yell later. Right now I'm tired and relieved she's safe. "Just tell me you're okay."

"I'm alive. And okay."

"Then finish the fucking brownie, shower and meet me in bed."

I whirl around and march into our bedroom.

"Just to be clear," she calls out. "When you say to meet you in bed—"

"No sex for a month!" I screech. She curses in Russian.

This brings a smile to my face. I curl up under the duvet and find the remote to the TV, switching the channel around until I find the Disney channel. I glare everytime I come across a news coverage. I hear the water start running.

I'm almost asleep listening to Merida's accent when the door opens and then closes. The bed dips beside me and a warm arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into a (clothed, thankfully) chest.

"I am sorry, you know," Natasha whispers, nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck. I shiver as a strand of her damp hair falls on my cheek.

"I know you are," I say quietly. "I'm sorry, too. I know it was safer for everyone for you to not call me."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Rain starts to tap against the bedroom window. Our legs entwine under the comforter, and the redheaded princess on TV starts to sing.

"So, just for clarification—"

"No sex, Natasha."

"Goddammit."

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Love // Pt 2 // Jay Halstead x Reader

Description: Jay wakes up

Warnings: None

Words: 1511

Pairing: Upton!Reader x Jay Halstead

Part 1

A/N: There will be a Part 3 to this as well!

You hesitated at the ER doors of Med, not sure if you could bring yourself to walk in. Through the glass, you could see at least a dozen officers standing in the waiting room, waiting to hear if their colleague was going to be okay. And here you were, about to walk in to see if your boyfriend was going to be okay. Two separate types of relationships, one man. 

“You want to go in?” Hailey asked you, not sure how long she’d been standing next to you. 

“Not really,” you answered with a sad laugh. “But I guess I probably should, right? I mean, it’s Jay in there.”

“There’s no rush. Will gave us an update not too long ago. He’s in surgery, so it might be a while. You’ve got time,” she assured you. “Why don’t we sit out here for a bit until you're ready?” You nodded, the two of you sitting on the bench next to the entrance. 

“That was the first time he told me he loved me,” you finally said. “And all I want is to get to hear him say it in person. I don’t need him being a ‘what if’ Hailey.” She squeezed your hand, grounding you as tears came to your eyes. 

“He’s not going to be a ‘what if’ because he’s strong. He’s gonna pull through this, and the two of you are going to have the epic story you’ve always wanted. Remember when we were kids and you always talked about how you were going to meet your Prince Charming someday?” You leaned your head on her shoulder.

“You always made fun of me for it, Hails. Like any big sister would.” The memory came to mind, getting you to smile.

“The first time I saw you and Jay together, I realized that’s exactly who he was. He’s your Prince Charming, Y/N.”

“How is it you always know what to say?” you asked her, holding onto her like a lifeline. 

“Because I’m your big sister. We always know what to say,” she reminded you, holding onto you. Jay may have been your partner, but you were the one he loved. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been sitting out on the bench when someone joined the two of you, sitting down in the free spot. When you looked over, you saw it was Will. 

“He’s out of surgery,” he told you softly, yet he didn’t look happy about it. “The bullet went through his vest. They were able to fix most of the damage, but he lost a lot of blood and damaged his lung. We’ll know how bad it is if he wakes up.” You were following along until the word ‘if.’

“If he wakes up?” you asked, needing further clarification. If he was out of surgery, why wouldn’t he wake up. 

“Doctor Abrams is worried about Jay having brain damage from lack of oxygen. A mix of the blood loss and the damaged lung. He’s hoping to start weaning Jay off the ventilator within the next couple of days to give his lung time to heal. Then, we’ll know. I can take you up to see him,” he offered, getting a nod in agreement from you as your sister let you go. 

You’d met Will a few times when you and Jay would go to Molly’s, the red-head stopping by occasionally at Jay’s place to watch a hockey or baseball game. So, it wasn’t that you weren’t familiar with Will, but it was the situation that was unfamiliar. You couldn’t exactly ask him how his day was going, how work was, how the girl he was seeing was doing. Not in this situation with Jay in the ICU. 

“He isn’t going to look like himself, Y/N,” he told you at the double doors leading into the unit. “There’s going to be a bunch of tubes and wires. He’s not breathing on his own yet, so there’s a machine breathing for him. It’s a belief that when people are like this, that they can still hear everything. So, just talk to him...He’s in there somewhere.”

“I’m scared, Will,” you admitted, the older man bringing you in for a tight hug. 

“I am too. But he’s gonna get through this. He always does.” 

You wanted to believe Will’s words, hanging on them with high hopes. He led you to Jay’s room, slowly opening the door. Jay was laying in the bed, head up at a forty-five degree angle. A blue tube snaked from his lips to a machine that hissed with every breath. There was a bag of blood hanging, tubing attached to one of the IVs. He had one in his hand, and then one in each arm giving him different medications that you could only guess on how to pronounce, let alone what they were. What really caught your eye was the stark contrast between all these tubes and wires to the paleness of his skin. 

Once you took it all in from the doorway, you were able to sit next to him, taking his hand in yours. Just a few hours ago, you were kissing him on the way out the door to go to work. Now, you were sitting in the ICU holding a deathly pale, cold hand. You could only imagine what the damage from the bullet looked like, not sure if you ever wanted to know until it was a pale scar marred on his skin. 

“You scared me, Jay,” you told him softly, looking for any indication that he was actually hearing you. “Talking like that was going to be your last chance...You’re going to have a million more chances to tell me you love me, you know. And after this. I’m not going to waste any moment with you, not going to give up any chance to show you I love you. Because I do, Jay. I love you. And I’m sorry it took you getting shot for me to tell you. Because it scared me. All of this scares me, because I’ve never felt like this for anybody before.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Will assured you again, knowing it was the brother side of him saying this and not the doctor side. Especially considering he’d warned you that Dr Abrams wasn’t sure if he’d wake up. 

“I’m going to hold you to that, Will.”

Four days later, you sat next to Jay after work. You hadn’t even stopped by your house, keeping a bag with civilian clothes in your car so that you could go to the hospital right after work. They’d extubated him early in the morning the day before, but he still hadn’t woken up. All the tests came back normal, so they said it was just a matter of time.

“Hailey wants to go on a weekend trip. We haven’t had one in so long, but I told her it would have to be after you were home,” you told him, thumb rubbing across his knuckles gently. 

They’d taken the IV out of his hand, but he still had the two in his arms. His skin was back to a normal color finally as well, looking like the Jay you’d always known. Just asleep. 

“Maybe I could convince you to give up the keys to the cabin for a weekend?”

“Like hell,” he mumbled, head lolling to the side before his eyes fluttered open. His eyelids looked heavy as he looked at you, as if he hadn’t slept in a year. Yet, he’d been asleep for four days. 

“Jay,” you sighed with a smile, bringing his hand up to your lips. “Is anything hurting?”

“No...just.” His voice was scratchy, so you grabbed the glass of water sitting on the table, bringing the straw up to his lips. That seemed to help as he took a small drink. “How long?”

“You’ve been out for four days, Jay. Somehow the bullet made it through your vest. They were talking about the possibility that you wouldn’t wake up because of the blood loss,” you explained softly, the weight on your chest disappearing slowly the longer he kept his eyes open. 

“I’ve been shot before, but it was different this time,” he told you, keeping his eyes on you. “It felt like it was it. And I just...I had to tell you I loved you in case there wasn’t another chance.”

“I love you, Jay. Which means, you’re not allowed to scare me like that again.” That got him to smile. Squeezing your hand. “Go back to sleep for a bit. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He nodded, eyes drifting closed again. 

This was how it went for the next three days, Jay’s moments of consciousness becoming longer and longer. Will had told you it was because his body needed time to recuperate. It didn’t matter why, just as long as he was going to be okay. Which it seemed like he was. Things were going to be okay.

[disasterfandoms]

You Shouldn’t Be Alone || A Seal Team Story

(this is a horrible gif as this has nothing to do with Ray)

Summary: Amelia has a no good, terrible, very bad day; with heartbreaking results.

A/N: My brain wouldn’t shut up last night so it finished this story part of the story. This is a three parter, and it’s part of the ao3 series myself amd @bravo-four-seal-team created. This is set early season 1, before Clay joins the team. It’s mostly Naima, Amelia, and Ashley this chapter, with Trent coming in later.

TW: injuries, hospitals, mention of death, mention of people coding, mentions of health spiraling, implication of miscarriage, mention of grief, mention of pain meds

Taglist: @twentydavid @bravo-four-seal-team @a-kate3 @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @supervalcsi @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @mrsmarvelous1995​ @velvetcardiganbucky​ @itsonautopilot​ @pinkrockstar19​ @galaxysanduniversesinmymind​ @abby-splace​

Amelia was just so, so tired of today.

Everything that could go wrong, did. The morning started with a minor argument with Trent, nothing they couldn’t handle, but still annoying. Then, a rude stranger ran into her, causing their coffee to spill all over her scrubs, resulting in her having to change into surgery scrubs when she got to work. 

Work was an absolute nightmare: back-to-back-to-back codes, rapids, anything that could go wrong did go wrong. She had a patient die, got another, then they died. 

And now she’s a patient in the ER.

Every breath she took included a sharp pain from her broken ribs resisting. Her left arm is in a sling, broken collarbone, apparently; her body littered with massive bruising. Swollen lip, stitches on her right cheek. Massive black eyes, a broken nose that was corrected a few minutes ago. Grade I concussion, so while the best-case scenario, still annoying. Her throat was sore from the hands trying to end her; that’s going to bruise badly later, she noted. The bruises, scratches on her arms will heal; they might be the least irritating injuries she sustained today. Her sore back and bruised pelvis from being slammed against the wall may be the most annoying. Her legs are in surprisingly good shape, a dislocated knee being the only injury that’s worth noting. Nothing came as close as devastating as to why she was bleeding, though. 

She shook her head, wincing as she did. She won’t go there; no one is to know about that one except for her, her medical team, and Trent. Fuck, Trent. He’s going to be devastated, or relieved; she honestly still can’t tell how he felt.

 That injury in itself would garner a lot of pity. She despises pity. Everyone around her was trying to do it, though, from her nurse, Naima, to her coworkers who keep coming down to check on her. She appreciates the concern, she does, but she’s okay; it could have been a lot worse. 

 Needs a new chain for her locket, once again, stupidly annoying. It’s her comfort blanket; it lets her have what’s special to her near her heart at all times. Again, nothing that can’t be fixed, but also stupidly annoying.

Naima threw the curtain back, came into her space, and then closed them to give the two nurses some privacy. 

“Dr. Mann would rather you stay overnight to make sure you’re stable, and that way Dr, Leigh can do the procedure in the morning.” 

Amelia shook her head, then winced again. She really, really needs to stop doing that! “No way in hell, Naima. I’m fine; I just got a little banged up! And I’ll come back in the morning for the procedure.”

Naima sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. God, her friend was stubborn. “Who’ll drive you? That sling stops you from even considering driving yourself.”

“So, you mean to tell me that I can’t drive home?”

 “Amelia Rose Carter! You know better than that. I’ll try to convince Mann to let you go, see if we can arrange a follow-up visit or something in the morning. I’ll call your emergency contact on file, see if they can come to pick you up.”

“No!” Amelia attempted to scream, but her voice still sounds strangled and barely came out above a whisper, “Please don’t call him. He doesn’t need to know, not yet.” Amelia, begging? This is something Naima hasn’t seen from the young nurse. She could swear she saw tears starting to form in the young woman’s eyes, whether from pain or the thoughts racing in her head.

Naima crossed her arms, walking over to lean on the stretcher beside Amelia. “Amelia, is your emergency contact someone you’re afraid of?”

Amelia would have smiled, laughed at the thought, even, had her lip not be swollen, and her throat didn’t feel like fire. “No, Naima. If you looked in my file, you’d see why. He’s just very protective of me, and while I love him more than I thought I could love anyone, his care will feel like suffocation. And now I sadly know what that feels like,” she paused and listened to Naima chuckle. The older nurse then apologized, but Amelia made a motion to stop that; she’s glad someone could laugh at her dark humor. “He’s going to be so pissed about in the morning, though. We were so close to telling everyone that we were-” she stopped, tears welling up in her blackened eyes again, but Naima got the point. She grabbed the battered woman’s uninjured hand and squeezed it in reassurance.

“Okay. So if not him, then who do you want to be called? I know you mentioned a brother?”

“Scott, yeah. He’s out in the field, I think. You wouldn’t want him here. He’d take one look at me and then want the name of the patient who did this and probably threatens to kill them.”

“Okay, so boyfriend and brother are off the list. Anyone else you can think of?”

“Boyfriend’s sister? I don’t know her that well, except for the times I helped take care of her last fall. She’d be able to drive me home, though, at the very least.”

“What’s her name, and do you have her number?”

“Ashley Sawyer, and her number is in my phone,” Amelia pulls up the number and continues to speak while Naima copies it down, “Be warned, she told me she doesn’t like hospitals. You may have to break HIPAA and mention my name for her to answer the second time.”

“Second time?”

“She’ll hang up once you get out that you’re a nurse at St. Samuel’s.” This made both women chuckle. 

“Okay, I’ll go try her cell, just rest for a while, okay? Need some more pain meds before I leave?”

“You know I hate pain medicine, especially morphine. Makes my head fuzzy,” Amelia declined, she definitely didn’t need that if she had to go home to her apartment.

“Okay. I’m gonna go call her, okay?”

“Good luck.”

Little did Naima know, she was going to need it. 

Getting back to the nurses’ station, she talked to the doctor, who agreed to discharge the stubborn nurse as long as Amelia came back to the ER if she was having any complications. While the Dr. worked on getting the discharge ready, Naima called the number she received and waited for a voice on the other end.

“What do you want?” The voice said snappily, clearly irritated by someone calling her.

“Ashley, this is Naima, I am a nurse at St. Samuel’s Ho-“

Click. 

Naima sighed, preparing to call the number again. Amelia at least warned her of this happening. She picked up the phone, dialed the number, and waited for a response. This time, the number went straight to voicemail. “Ms. Sawyer, this is Naima, a nurse at St. Samuel’s Hospital. A significant other of a family member has asked that we call you to come to pick them up when they’re discharged. Please call back at this number, thank you.”

She hung up the phone and hoped that Ashley would hear the message before too long. 

Within half an hour, the same phone rang again, Naima picked up the phone and answered, “St. Samuel’s ER this Naima speaking, how can I help you?”

“You called this number a half-hour ago?” “Is this Ms. Sawyer?” “Who else would it be?” “Ms. Sawyer, this is a hospital and this isn’t my personal phone here. I’m asking for clarification, as there are about 10 phone calls per hour on this phone alone.” “You called me for a reason, snap to it.” “Yes, your brother’s girlfriend, Amelia, has asked me to call on her behalf for you to come to pick her up upon discharge,” “Shit. Is she okay, and why me?” “She’s been injured fairly well, with several bruises, several broken bones, and a dislocated knee. The doctor asked she stay for tonight, but Ms. Carter is refusing. She requested you, claiming your brother would be ‘too suffocating’”

Naima heard the woman laugh on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing since it’s clear she’s banged up pretty well. Not wrong about Trent, though.”

Wait. No, that can’t be. Well, shit. Naima pieces together what she knows about her friend’s boyfriend. Oh, she’s so telling her husband about this.

“If you agree to pick her up and take her home, you can come at any time and I’ll come out to the waiting room and bring you back. I must warn you, though, she looks rough and shouldn’t be left alone tonight. She’ll probably ask you to take her apartment to leave her be. Don’t.”

“Shit, is it that bad?” “It’s not great. The concussion she sustained would be the main worry. That and god forbid she fell and no one was there to help her. She’ll need someone to bring her back in the morning, as well, and she’s incredibly stubborn about being able to drive herself,” “She got injured, and you all are going to make her come back to work the next day?” “What? No, ma’am, she has a procedure unrelated to her injury in the morning, and claims she’ll come in and do it outpatient instead of staying,” “She’s as stubborn as the rest of us, damn,” she paused, sighing into the phone, “I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

“Okay. Let the front desk know to alert me when you’ve arrived and I’ll bring you to her. Thank you, Ms. Sawyer.”

Click. 

Sighing, Naima went back to filling out the paperwork, figuring out how or when she’ll confront her friend about dating someone on her husband’s team. For now, she’ll finish the paperwork on another patient, waiting for Trent’s sister to arrive.

[whumpbby]

Hi! So this is kind of a random ask, but I know you have beta fish, and I’m considering getting one. I’ve had beta fish in the past, and despite educating myself on how to take care of them they haven’t lived very long, so I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me. For my past beta fish, I keep them in a five gallon tank (for clarification, I never had more than one beta fish at a time. So I didn’t have multiple of them in the tank don’t worry—they just all lived at different times in the same tank) that had a filter with a pretty low flow on it. I never saw any of the fish have problems swimming with it on. I always used a highly rated water purifying product for the tank water (I forgot what it’s actually called) and I never had any sharp plants that would hurt their fins. I fed them a little every two days because I heard that feeding them everyday was bad for them. Do you happen to know what I was doing wrong? It was frustrating for me because I put a lot of effort into keeping them alive and healthy and then I would see people who kept them in small half gallon bowls have their fish outlive mine. It’s been a couple years, and I want to get another, but I don’t want to accident hurt/kill another one. How do you care for your beta fish? Do you have any advice? Sorry about the rant, but I follow you for your Jason content and happened to stumble upon some of you fish posts and need help. Thanks so much for reading this, and if you do end up offering any advice, I want to thank you for that too!

Hi dear, sorry if I took long to answer - tumblr notoriously does not inform me of messages>> 

I understand your pain - especially that the situation with bettas is very frustrating. They tend to suffer from quite a few genetic defects (they are prone to tumours, for example) and are a very abused fish in the aquatic industry.  Oftentimes by the time they will get to a caring and dedicated owner, they’ve already went through a lot:0 We just don’t know how healthy the fish is before we got it. 

I am by no means an expert, I have lost a few babies since I started the hobby a couple years ago and I can only assume what a few of them suffered from:( One thing that seems to work is leaving them and the tank alone for as long as you can once it’s all set up and cycled and running - apart form the regular maintenance. I am a chronic fiddler who needs to change and add plants, filters, etc, so I constantly have to hold myself back form doing things to the tank. My sister has the same betta for a second year now and the only thing she does with her tank is water changes once every couple weeks - and both him and a thousand of cherry shrimp that live there thriveXD 

Some things I nowadays pay attention to that may be useful, however, are:

- water temp has to be consistent, on the warmer side. I keep mine at 26-27C (I don’t know how much that is in F, sorry>>). To that effect the tank needs a lid - it will trap the warm air, protecting the betta form inhaling cold air then they come up for a breath. They labyrinth breathing organ is quite sensitive to that.

- I feed my boys twice a day, so I am not a part of the ‘feed them little’ club. I give them a little pinch of the good flake in the morning (Bug Bites is nice) and a 3-4 granules of a King Betta or a pinch of a protein-rich micro pellets in the evening. A betta breeder I talked to a couple times advised that it’s better to feed the boys a couple times a day in small quantities rather than once - keeps their digestive tracts working and they can avoid constipation. Constipation happens often with bettas and is a headache to solve. I leave frozen bloodworms for special occasions and just rotate the dry foods for variety.  

- I change water every week - and every other week make sure to vacuum gravel the substrate. In the planted tanks I vacuum only about 2-3cm of the top layer to not disturb planting substrate below and not to suck up any shrimp, so it’s a gentle operation. In the gravel where there is no growing substrate I go deep - the reason being that I want to free any possible air bubbles stuck underneath where bad bacteria may grow. 

- Pick a filter and stick to it. I was very bad at that, but I finally managed to hotwire a combo that seems to work so I will stick to it;) If you can stand the noise, I advise a sponge filter - it’s so easy to clean and manageTT If you can’t stand the hum of the air pump and the bubbles, I recommend a matten filter - or hotwiring an internal filter to a sponge filter - like so - instruction in German, but the visuals are very self-explanatory;] I used gel superglue to connect the filterhead to a sponge filter and now all I have to do once a month or rarer is to pull the sponge off and squeeze it few times in the used tank water! And sometimes clean the showerhead from algae;] It saves you so much money on the cartridges (corner sponge filters are a couple £/$ and last years) and provides extra filtration. My shrimps also eat off it;] 

- get a snail. Seriously, I have a snail in every tank - a single nerite will do best for a 5gal. They don’t breed in sweet water, don’t grow large and will keep your glass clean for you - I have not cleaned my tanks’ glass since... ever>> Joe I and Joe II do it for meXD They also provide company for the betta and something fun to look at. And he will scarf uneaten food form the gravel. 

- I assume you know about the nitrogen cycle, so I will not bore you here about bacteria and such. But a best chance of saving the betta form stress when you get him home is a cycled tank. You can get an ammonia testing set - or, if you find that a bit intimidating (I do for some reason) you can go to an aquarist shop and they will check your water for you. My local store in town does it for free. I am not sure about big box stores, tho. If you see something being wrong with the betta, check water and see if it needs to be changed asap. 

- water changes are mandatory and have to be regular. A 5gal is a convenient size - I am using a 5l bottle left over from mineral water as a measuring tool;) This way I know I am always changing roughly 1/4th of the tank’s water. It’s very easy to see how much water I removed and how much I have to put back in - I can control the water temp and add dechlotinator/vitamins etc before it goes into the tank, so I do not shock my critters with too hot or too cold water. The rule I practice is leaving the dechlorinator in the bottle for about 10 mins before pouring it all into the tank. 

- you don’t have to be intimidated by planted tanks:) A little bunch of anubias on a stick is often enough to start with and a good look for a tank, in my opinion. It also makes for a more natural space for the betta he will certainly appreciate. The less fancy stuff the better - I got my first natural rocks form the side of the road (ofc I boiled the life out of them before they got even close to the tank) and they are usually quite cheap on amazon. A stick with a plant and a rock and some small-size gravel is often enough to look good. The plants will also help with eating up nitrites and keeping the water healthy.

- goodness, what else. Medicaiton. Ok. I have tried many meds for my boys and once the fish is in a bad way not much will help, form my experience :( My med set consists of Melafix - I add it to water according to instructions whenever I see my betta without appetite or acting off. It’s a mild anti-bacterial mixture that does not affect snails/shrimp. If that does not help, I use eSHa 2000 or eSHa Exit - they are two very comprehensive meds that deal with a variety of problems. I have never used aquarium salt, but some people swear by it - there’s no specific reason I don’t use it, I just never got around to it.  

This is all the chaotic advice, but things to remember (I am not trying to be condescending, I just don't know how much you know;]) are: cycled tank, regular water changes&filter maintenance, consistent temperature and quality food. Bettas are hardy little suckers, but sometimes they are also frail in ways we can’t see until it’s too late. I am already seeing a tumour growing on one of my boys and there is nothing I can do about it except giving him the best life I can - he is still going strong, but I know he will probably not last to the end of the year. It’s a hobby that sometimes seems thankless, but if you do everything right, even if they leave early, at least you’ve given them a good and peaceful time before that:)

If I you have any more questions or just want to share woes, feel free to message, I will do my best to answer:)

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 114

SYNOPSIS:  Jamie’s thoughts turn towards what is happening to his Sassenach Claire and the consequences of Madeline’s visit.  As they wait for Madeline in Committee, the tension between Dougal and his brother Colum is palatable. Meanwhile Murtagh convinces Fergus that their snooping is for the better good and they start on their quest once the coast is clear due to their superiors being elsewhere.

Chapter 113 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU so much for reading my story last week and for the continued support of this work in progress. Just for clarification @ fickeepingtheshipafloat Colum is Dougal’s superior and there is certainly no love lost between the two men even though they are brothers. Each is the other’s nemesis and this chapter explains more. @annagoober​  Jamie will find a way to see Claire surreptitiously without Madeline or Operations knowing with the help of friends.  

As next Friday 24th is my birthday … I will post two chapters this coming week.  One on Tuesday 21st and the other on Friday 24th

CHAPTER 114 Closing his eyes briefly James Fraser opened them to stare up at the ceiling then cast a glance to his right. In his mind’s eye he saw his Claire lying on her cot in the next room. She is much too pale. As I study my Claire, my eyes watch the rise and fall of her chest. I worry because her breathing is shallow and she seems distressed. I know she is thinking about me, just as I am her. My eyes caress my love’s bruised face just like I did in air transport on our return to Section One. Her bruises have deepened. They as so much more pronounced on her porcelain skin than before. Her lip looks more swollen too. In fact, she looks black and blue all over her beautiful face. If only I could kiss her better. I would cover her face with gentle kisses to take away the hurt and erase the memories from the monastery. I’m unable to leave Claire’s bedside.  I cannot drag myself away from her side and I reach down and touch her, stroking my hand ever so gently across the arc of her brow. I didn't think that the retrieval mission would affect me so much … but it did. Longing floods my body to make her pain go away. I want to wrap my Sassenach in my arms and cocoon her in my love. I lean down and place a kiss to her swollen lips. My tongue caresses them gently, absorbing her hurt and easing her pain. There is an agonising ache deep inside me at what I see. I didn't think that I would feel this angry at the perpetrators of her injuries … but I do. My beautiful Claire has been sullied by Jonathon Randall and for that he will pay dearly. I love her so much more than I thought possible and she has been harmed beyond measure by the triad members of the Rising Dragons. I protect the ones I love and those who did this to her will feel the full extent of my wrath.  James Fraser suddenly opened his eyes with a start. Thoughts of Claire had flooded his mind with an uncanny clarity as he wondered about her. He felt a bead of sweat on his lips and he licked the salty liquid with his parched tongue. Jamie’s vision of his love in the next room had been more than vivid. He only hoped that she wasn’t as bad as he thought she may be. All that separated him from her was a wall, but nothing could separate Claire from his heart or mind. He pictured her lying in her room no doubt hooked up to as much equipment as he was. Jamie hoped that she could feel his love … so near yet too far away. With steely determination he willed a speedy recovery not only for his own wounds but for his Sassenach’s as well. What he needed was for Murtagh or Fergus to see her and let her know how he was doing so that she wouldn’t worry until he was able to see her for himself. Jamie was determined that he would find a way to visit Claire as soon as possible, but in the meantime he needed a go-between to be his eyes and ears and there was no one better than Murtagh Fitzgibbons. Closing his eyes once more, Jamie sank back into the pillows and waited for the time when Claire’s friend would appear at his bedside as he knew he would eventually.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ But as he lay there he began to brood over in his mind the visit he’d just had from Madeline. He’d watched her leave the ICU knowing that she’d examined his every move whilst she was there. Although he’d done his best to suppress how he felt it was obvious even to blind Freddy that his injuries would take a while to heal. It was inevitable too that he would have a visit from Section’s head strategist at some time. Yet, what did surprise him was that Operations did not come with her. Hence, he knew all too well the results Madeline sought. Any concern was certainly not altruistic on her behalf ... it was purely calculated. Madeline’s visit had everything to do with checking for herself the situation at hand and to see if there was any possibility of a speedy return to the Rising Dragons’ mission. She’d come alone to check for concrete evidence of how bad his and Claire’s injuries were, how long it would take to recover, would their absence affect the mission and how soon they could return to the field. However, Section’s leaders would have to deal with his medical situation as well as Claire’s mental condition before there was any chance of that happening. No doubt because of the injuries to himself and to Claire, Madeline and Operations were probably in a spin about how to proceed with the mission. Failure to contain the triad members and more importantly to capture Sun Yee Lok would be uppermost in their minds. Their absence meant that a pre-emptive strike by Section One on the triad would now be delayed. Until he and Claire recovered fully, contingency plans would need to be set in motion. That, however, could prove to be either disastrous or fortuitous for the Section. As head strategist Madeline would need to profile a new mission scenario. It could mean that another team would take over the mission profile or they’d wait until he and Claire were recovered and have first team proceed with the End Game. Either way she and Operations had some major decisions to make. To their way of thinking, Claire and his injuries would set the mission back for a while and because of this the momentum would be with the triad. This fact would not be lost on the two leaders. He realised that Operations would be livid that all their efforts to attaining an End Game had been thwarted. Surveillance of the protagonists would have to begin again but a timeout could also prove beneficial as well. When cooler heads prevailed, Section’s leaders would no doubt see the benefits in what had occurred and gain more positives than negatives from the result. Madeline and Operations would want them to recover as soon as possible, but on the other hand if the triad thought they were dead then certain members may drop their guard. It may mean that Sun Yee Lok could surface if he thought that all hostilities towards his members had now ceased with their death. This method had been successful for Section One before and he saw that complacency could be the Rising Dragon’s downfall too. Furthermore, Colum would be breathing down their necks when he found out both he and Claire would be incapacitated for a while and if there was anything more that Operations and Madeline loathed was interference from Colum. Hence, they would need to have their priorities in order if he made a surprise visit. If Section One appeared to be at all incompetent, then Colum Mackenzie would have a field day. He could even decide that Oversight operatives would take over the mission. Operations would never tolerate that because he had a vested interest in capturing the triad members himself and for that he needed Claire and he needed him to do the job properly. One thing he was surprised about was Madeline’s veiled compassion of sorts for his situation. He lay still in his bed as her words echoed in his head. “There will be time for that later. Right now, you need to rest.” Normally despite his injuries, and once he was conscious, she or Operations would have demanded his debrief about the mission, but by granting him some leeway until they spoke again was uncharacteristic to say the least. His suspicions were raised somewhat by Madeline’s gesture, but he was really in no condition to comply to a debriefing. For that reason, his reply had been equally as non-committal. He’d kept his expression devoid of all emotion and had replied with an innocuous, unemotional and cool, Thank You. In Jamie’s opinion, Madeline’s parting words had held more underlying meanings that she expressed to him. She and Operations would want to know everything that went on during the mission and no doubt Madeline would probe him in the psyche sessions he knew were inevitable. He was pensive, yet it was not about what Madeline had said or left unsaid but rather his concern for Claire. Her presence in Med-Lab had brought up several scenarios in his mind. But paramount to anything she may have said, Jamie’s thoughts were not that focused on his own recovery or how Madeline and Operations would deal with their situation. Rather they were centred on the one person in the other room … his Claire. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Although his recovery was important, Jamie felt powerless; he was hindered by his own injuries and all the medical equipment he was attached to. He couldn’t do what he wanted to at the moment to help Claire, but once the transfusions had kicked in, he would begin to feel better and stronger. In fact, he certainly did feel some improvement now that they had replaced the blood he’d lost. The intravenous drip also needed to be removed. Any lack of self-regard for his own condition that he’d demonstrated on the retrieval mission and return to Section One were irrelevant now, and despite his injuries, Jamie had regained a new sense of purpose. Claire was safe in Medical and that was all that mattered. She was his sole priority. The only thing that frustrated him was his inability to see her but the moment he was free of all his restrictions he would rectify that. He would then be making a personal visit to see how she was faring. When he knew how Claire was then he could help with her recuperation and healing process. Even though he would need time to recover, Claire would need more. She had been through much, much worse than he. Her psyche had been affected by her incarceration at the hands of the triad and Jamie knew she was fragile because of it. Claire needed some time away from Section One and he’d do his best to have that time spent with her together. He knew his own prospects for survival were good and despite the gunshot wound he was confident that he would be up and out of Med-Lab sooner than the doctors thought. He knew that his recovery time from injury in the past was fairly quick and he hoped that this time would be no different. Thus, he needed to improve as quickly as possible and get out of Med-Lab to set in motion his plans for the two of them … plans that Dr Foster thought were imperative to their recovery as well. He vowed that he would find a way for them to recuperate together and it looked as though he had a steadfast ally in their doctor. If the good doctor’s medical reasons were not sufficient to sway Madeline and Operations, he would think of several other possible scenarios to support their rehabilitation. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ When Madeline and Dr Foster had visited they’d been unaware that Jamie could hear them speaking and he’d given no indication that he was awake. He’d overheard the doctor say to Madeline that once this last unit of blood had been used there was no need for more. That was encouraging; however, if Madeline thought that there was even a slight chance of his returning to the fray sooner than expected, she would order that to happen. Consequently, when Dr Foster had championed both his and Claire’s recovery timeout over a quick return to the mission he had listened intently. The more he thought about Jeremy Foster taking care of them the more James Fraser liked him. His precautionary words to Madeline that he would be in ICU for a few days was a bold attempt to give him more time to stay off her inquisition about the mission. Then on overhearing his recommendation that it was crucial that both his patients needed adequate time to rehabilitate was admirable to say the least. He’d obviously gone out on a limb to suggest how both of them would benefit from some downtime and Jamie applauded his temerity in standing up to Madeline for his patients. No doubt he’d given his reasons for his ideas as Dr Foster’s carefully chosen words were pointedly directed at her and Operations. He’d given Section’s leaders concrete ideas and medical reasons to ponder before making a decision about sending them back into the field. It was now up to Madeline and Operations to make their decisions. Time would tell if they would indeed act on Dr Foster’s recommendations or if they had their own agenda for him and Claire. If they ran true to form that, however, was the only logical answer. Meanwhile in Committee … As Operations and Colum waited for Madeline to arrive at Committee, they sat and stared at each other refusing to acknowledge the other’s presence after some initial banal conversation. They were at a stalemate. The tension was so thick in the air that you could have cut it with a knife. It was suffocating. They each sat in quiet solitude. Neither was willing to give the other any ground by conversing more than was absolutely necessary. Rather, lost in their own thoughts, the two protagonists refused to make eye contact unless it was required.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ To Colum, his brother’s mood was typical of each time he made a surprise visit to One. He was highly suspicious of his motives. He was Operations' immediate superior and to Dougal this was an anathema. He obviously saw himself as the better leader and the green eye monster of jealously ate away at him because their positions were not reversed. Colum knew only too well that there was bad blood between the two leaders of their respective hierarchies. As the elder brother, Colum knew that Operations had ambitions. It was also plainly obvious that Dougal wanted his job at Oversight and was just biding his time until he saw an opening to pounce … and he was having none of that. As head of Oversight, he planned to stay that way. Being in a superior situation to Dougal had its advantages and this was something that he took great pleasure in. His position at Oversight was secure and if he could make it more watertight and frustrate any aspirations that his brother Dougal had, then he would block them at every move.  Bad blood was at the core of their antagonism. Madeline and Dougal knew of Colum’s close relationship with the person who set up the Sections. Perhaps it was this relationship that was at the centre of their dislike. He blamed them for what had happened to his Letitia and he would never forgive them. If he found out that Dougal and Madeline were in any way involved in her disappearance, he would seek total retribution. But he had no proof and until he did their mutual hostility towards each other would continue unabashed. He would however, actively pursue countermeasures and plot to destroy Operations and or Section One if proof was discovered. Colum took an extreme delight in just arriving at Section One unannounced. The machinations that the two leaders of Section went through to appear delighted at his visits, constantly amused him. He always wondered what they would come up with next in their attempt to hide the state of play at One from him. He had heard that things at Section had changed and that the Rising Dragons’ mission may be in jeopardy. He wondered what and how much Dougal and Madeline would tell him. It was inevitable that they would hold back any Intel if they thought it was to their advantage … but he had his minions. Nothing escaped him at Oversight to the happenings at One and regardless of how much Madeline and Dougal loathed his visits he relished in them. Catching them on the hop was always amusing.  And now he sat and waited for Madeline to arrive. Colum Mackenzie cast a sly look towards Dougal and judging by his body language, his brother was not at all happy that he was here.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Operations sat and mulled over several scenarios as to why their nemesis had once again made another unannounced visit to Section One. He suspected that the main reason was to annoy both he and Madeline and try to put them off guard. He knew Colum took delight in his unscheduled visits but their archenemy could never best them at their own game. He and Madeline were far too clever for the likes of Colum. Whatever, he may have heard they would be able to deal with. There was nothing, no curve ball that his big brother could throw their way that would even remotely tilt them off kilter.  With Madeline by his side, he knew they were an invincible team. Colum was but a mere pest … and one that could be easily squashed by the two of them … as they would when the time came for a power overthrow. Together they were an invincible team. He and Madeline always seemed to manage to keep Colum in the dark. Able to think on their feet, they were constantly two steps ahead of him. There was no reason why this time would be any different to the other visits Colum had made unannounced. Operations prided himself on being able to bluff his way through these little sessions and leave the Oversight leader with just enough Intel to keep him satisfied and off their back … until his next visit. Once Madeline arrived, he was confident that they would be able to pull the wool over Colum’s eyes once again. What he did regret was that he’d been unable to discuss their strategy with Madeline before having to speak with his brother. They were unable to get their stories straight and he hoped that they wouldn’t trip each other up. However, he had faith in his second in command’s ability to cajole Colum with her feminine wiles if he got a little too close to the mark. He knew she could pacify him and respond with a rationality he lacked in his presence.  Although they were politely antagonist towards one another, they still needed to keep Colum onside … Center too for that matter, as interference from Mr. Lambert would be something they would not want to deal with. Colum snooping around was enough for them to handle at the moment. He had powerful friends in Center, thus he and Madeline needed to tread warily. They didn’t know why Colum was here or how long he would stay. If he was here to check up on the injuries to Jamie and Claire then he was sure Madeline would handle those with aplomb … anything else they would be flying blind. They could ill afford for the situation to blow up in their faces if it was not handled properly. Their eyes avoided each other but Operations happened to glance over to Colum and noticed a smugness to his demeanour. It irritated him that a visit from anyone from Oversight but particularly his brother, meant that everything had to stop at Section One to accommodate him. Madeline and he had things to discuss. She had Dr Foster’s report from Medical about Jamie and Claire to go over, they had problems that needed solutions and they had a mission that had been interrupted because of injury to the two main operatives involved. This visit from Colum was a hindrance they could do without, but he took some solace from Madeline words which echoed in his mind. 

"We'll tell Colum only what he needs to know, just like we have before." Dougal hoped it wouldn’t be too long until she arrived. He was feeling angrier by the moment by the imposition of Colum’s appearance.  Meanwhile … Fergus waited for Murtagh to appear in Systems and it wasn’t too long before he saw his friend round the corner and walk towards his area.  Murtagh Fitzgibbons had a grin from ear to ear no doubt at the fact that the coast was clear now to go and do some snooping while Operations and Madeline were detained in Committee. This was one area of Section that was off-limits to most operatives unless of course you were asked to go there for a private conversation away from the prying eyes of the rest of Section One. Operations and Madeline usually met with Colum there and once in Committee, they were not to be disturbed. If as in the past, after a visit from Colum Mackenzie, Madeline and Operations would return to either Madeline’s office or the perch to dissect whatever he had to say to them. This would afford them some extra time. Murtagh ascertained that they would be occupied for enough time for he and Fergus to find the Intel about Jamie and return to their stations before their leaders knew they were missing from their posts. He felt extremely confident in the pattern of events that would happen. However, what he needed to see about was Fergus’ obvious change of heart. His friend’s voice had been apprehensive about what they were about to do and he needed to give him the confidence to carry the task through to conclusion, but he needed to tread carefully to convince Fergus to put what Intel he’d found into action. Moving to stand next to his buddy’s station, Murtagh stood behind him and leaned over his shoulder to watch the computer monitor he was working on more closely. “Hey, Fergus.” Although the techie knew his friend was standing behind him, he answered without making eye contact. “Oh. Hi.” Fergus thought that if he didn’t look up, Murtagh may actually get the message that he was reluctant to continue what they had planned to do, despite his earlier enthusiasm.  Ignoring his apparent disinterest, all of a sudden Murtagh soldiered on regardless. “So … Are you ready to do some unauthorized hacking?”  Fergus nervously looked around hoping that no one had heard his question since there were other operatives about. “Are you sure we really should be doing this?” Murtagh looked at his friend with surprise. “You okay?” “Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?”  Realising that Fergus was not being all that truthful he asked. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”  He looked up at Murtagh over his glasses and met his gaze. “Well … yes I am,” he replied uneasily keeping his voice low. “I just don’t know if it’s the right thing to do.” “Sure it is … This could be an adventure.” “What do you mean?” “You know what I mean ... Don't start thinking with your heart.” “We could get caught.”  “Not if we’re careful and besides Colum Mackenzie is here. Madeleine and Operations will be gone for a while, so we have plenty of time to make a search, gather the Intel we need for Dr. Foster and be back here before we’re even missed.” Fergus weighed up his arguments. What Murtagh had said made sense. He sighed. “Sorry … I guess I’ve been a little spooked since I ran into Madeline.” “Emotion blurs judgment if you’re not careful. Besides the bottom line is that we’re doing this for Jamie.”  “Yeah … you’re right.” He got up from his chair and looked at his friend. “Come on.” “Where are we going?” Murtagh asked excitement lacing his voice. “To find the information about Jamie of course,” Fergus answered. However, before leaving he reached into his drawer and pulled out a small component in a clear plastic case. “Hey what’s that?” “This little gizmo is just what we may need to help us locate the Intel.” Nodding in understanding Murtagh replied enthusiastically. “Okay! Let’s go then!” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on Tuesday 21st April.

 As … Friday 24th is my birthday … I will post two chapters this coming week.  One on Tuesday 21st and the other on Friday 24th.

[elatedmarvel]

Exclusive: Life After the Shield

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summery: An inside exclusive with one Steven Rogers, years in the future.

Word Count: 1385

AN: Hello! Idk where this came from, but it was super fun to write. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you so much for reading. Feedback is always welcome. ~J

Warnings: none

The house is unremarkable, just another two story with a porch wrapped around it. The yard has bikes and mini cars thrown about and other outdoor toys strewn up the stairs to the front door. As this reporter knocks on the door, the sounds of paws clicking becomes more distinct, and a sharp bark is heard behind the heavy wood door. Someone comes to shush the pooch, and when the door opens there stands Captain Steve Rogers in all his glory.

He’s half kneeling, trying to get a good grip on the squirming dog but greets me anyways. “Sorry about him, he’s just excited, I promise he won’t bite.” he laughs as he welcomes me into his home.

It really is a home. 

Shoes, both little and big, line the entryway. Family portraits hang in the adjoining hallway, even shots of current and retired Avengers. A withered sepia colored one of a smaller Steve with a man who has Steve’s jawline, and a woman who has Steve’s eyes complete the set. “My parents, it just wouldn’t be right to have a picture wall without them” he says when he catches me taking a closer look. 

We walk further into the house and evidence of his children are everywhere. Toys that have yet to be put away in the hallways, their drawings hung on the fridge with pride, and a highchair at the dining room table. We can hear them yelling and laughing in the backyard as we settle into his office for the interview-- Steve having to remove the teddy bear and doll that was on his seat.

At first it’s obvious to just see him as Captain America . But here in the converted farmhouse, it’s easier to see him as a civilian. He’s not quite as angled and sharp as in his avenging days, something he attributes to his family's love of baking together. “My kids and I love to try new recipes,” he tells me later, “honestly I’m just glad I have the serum to keep me in shape.” 

His workout routine still impressive though. He tells me he tries to get up and run, and he still lifts weights on a regular basis. Going to the compound to spar with childhood best friend, Sergeant James Barnes on an almost daily basis-- who still kicks his ass like when they were younger.

“It’s getting easier with every kid though” he explains “with the first one I was so cocky that I bought a jogging stroller. Thought I’d be able to take Sarah with me on my runs and let my wife have some down time. I was so wrong, we were basically zombies that first few months. I never even put her in the damn thing.” 

Captain Rogers retired from active duty after his firstborn. Still in the Avengers reserve, he trains recruits and strategizes with the new team. “It was time to take a step back.” he reflects. “I’ve been fighting the good fight since the 1920s, I needed to live my own life now, be a present father and husband.” When asked about why he still affiliates with the Avengers he jokes that he couldn’t hand over responsibility completely, “I still have trouble with that, and I needed the money.” 

It’s abundantly clear how fond of his children the retired Avenger is. “They are the best things in my life. After I was frozen and came out in this century, I didn’t think I could have that family I always envisioned. I put my head down and did what I knew.” 

What changed all this? His wife. 

“She’s just everything to me. It’s like we met and everything just clicked into place.” he earnestly replies, “I’m not sure I would be where I am if it wasn’t her.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Rogers met in the Avengers Compound where she worked as a doctor. “She’s a spitfire, she never let me leave without examining me after a mission. She figured out I would hide some of my injuries, and she gave me crap for it.” he recounts. “She understood me the best. And she’s just this amazing person, you know she was in the army after med school and knew what it was like to be in combat. We could just talk for hours about anything, and that’s so special to me. The first time I told her I loved her was after she kicked my ass in a sparring session. She doesn’t take shit from anyone. Sorry, language!” he laughs. “Having kids really censored my foul language.” 

Turns out, their youngest Sammy, is just starting a phase where she repeats everything, “She gets me in trouble a lot with the wife. Set up a swear jar and everything, and if Sammy says the word then it’s $20 bucks.”

Their children’s cheerful smiles stare back at me from a picture on the desk. Three little cherubs; Sarah, James, and Samantha. “Sarah is definitely in charge” he smirks “she decides what they play and watch. But James is getting to the age where he’s starting to fight back some. He’s learning how much he can push back and get away with. It’s honestly so entertaining. Obviously Sammy is too young to know what’s really going on, but I have a feeling her and Sarah are going to gang up on James when they’re a little older.” 

Rogers seemed a little coy when asked about the possibility of adding a fourth child to the mix. “You know, it would be great to even the playing field, give James his own buddy. But Sammy’s still pretty young so we’ll see. We’ve talked about it for sure but no plans right now.” 

While there are no plans to add to the Rogers household human wise, they have added many fur babies to their fold since moving upstate. “I never thought I would leave the city, but Tony saw this listing and showed us. We fell in love instantly. It’s got plenty of room and like an acre of land or something crazy like that. It’s a good thing too because my wife keeps finding these animals to take in. You met Dodger earlier, he’s the newest addition.” 

Apparently, Dr. Rogers has a knack for finding animals that need a home. “I swear they seek her out and know she’s too soft to turn them away. We’ve got 4 cats, a dog, some chicks that are turning into chickens fast, and even some goats.” Steve swears the goats are just here until Bucky is able to find a suitable home for them, but it’s easy to tell he didn’t even believe himself. “I’ve just got to accept that we have a zoo. I’m sure in a few years we’ll add horses or something. Sarah’s been begging for one, and Uncle Tony doesn’t quite know how to tone down the gifting.” He chuckles.

As we sit and talk about future plans, Dr. Rogers comes knocking with a plate of cookies and a baby on her hip. She has to take the older two to music class and settles baby Sammy on her father’s lap. Instantly his eyes light up as he coos and talks to his youngest, Sammy herself giving us the biggest, gummy smile possible. She takes interest on a cookie and stuffs one in her mouth before anyone can stop her. “I guess there’s no harm in you just chewing on that, it’ll be our little secret baby” Rogers says to his daughter, pushing back some of her unruly hair and pressing kisses to her forehead. The rest of the interview goes by quickly, getting last moment clarifications and questions in-- Sammy chiming in more than once with her opinion. When Captain Rogers leads me to the doorway and bids me a farewell, Dodger tries to acquaint himself again.

With baby on hand and dog circling his feet, it’s easy to see just Steve Rogers. A caring husband, doting father, and overall happy man. One who has found purpose and life beyond the shield. A man right where he belongs.  

Edit: Since this interview six months ago, the Rogers’ have announced they have welcomed another little boy, Nathan. Here’s hoping they actually get to use that jogging stroller this time around. Congratulations to the happy family!

Tag:

@captainchrisfics

[cripple-cryptid]

Getting To Know Me (Again)

It’s been a long time since I’ve really made a serious post that was well thought out and also like, a full update. It’s been a long time since I’ve even really just made a literal “Life Update” as well. So I guess this is a good time. I think it’s important because this blog has changed quite a bit in the past few years, and I think that I need to just make some things clear. This is probably going to get long, and heavy, but I think this is important, and I’m hoping that maybe I can help people in the future after I get this taken care of. Fair Warning: I am literally the worst at organizing this sort of thing, but I would really appreciate it if you read it the whole way through because it would mean a whole lot to me.

Hello. My name is Sava. I’m 22 years old. I’m a transmasculine Agender individual, and my preferred pronouns are They/He. Truthfully, I don’t mind other pronouns as long as they are not She/Her. I am a trans person, and I experience dysphoria. I’m planning on getting top surgery and HRT at some point in my life. I don’t know when, but I hope that it will be soon. I’m also Asexual, and Aromantic. I’m sex repulsed, and romantically indifferent. I am polyaffectionate (thanks to @aromanticpolyamory for the flag on this one, and coining the term as far as I’m aware?) and I have two partners. I love them both very much, with all my heart, even when I am an AroAce. So in summary, I’m a polyaffectionate Triple A (thank you @aro-ace-agender-space for the beautiful Triple A Pride Flag once again I literally love it to death)

I am also disabled. Mentally, and physically. I went most of my life undiagnosed, however I have been tested repeatedly for various things since I was a small child. I was always disregarded, and never got a proper diagnosis for my mental illnesses until I was 17. My physical ailments were ignored and went unnoticed until I was an adult, and I still am working towards a true understanding of what is going on. I am an amalgamation of many things, both mentally and physically, and it is a very long and frustrating process. Everything from my Depression, PTSD, and various other mental illnesses mix with my hEDS, Fibromyalgia, Chronic Migraines, and Insomnia. New symptoms are cropping up, as well as potential new problems. There are many things that make sense to me now that I look back on how I grew up. My old injuries make sense. My weird allergies make sense. Some of the things that I seemed to have inherited from my parents now make sense. But now that I’m older, I’m starting to learn. I have tools, braces, and mobility aids that make life easier. I finally decided that meds are a smart idea, so doing the responsible thing is starting to pay off. I hope.

I’m...not the same person I was when I first joined this site 10 years ago. I was innocent, misguided, selfish, manipulative, lazy, and bigoted. I did nothing to change my views, and didn’t really allow anyone to educate me on things that I did not realize were actually important. I was ableist, somehow sexist and misogynistic, and downright stupid. Despite all this, I thought I was right in all the wrong ways, and never tried to properly justify any of my points. And this is where everything changes.

I am going to put a warning here now. These are my beliefs, and If I receive any hate in my messages or in my askbox because of what I am about to say, I’m not even going to answer them. I am entitled to my opinion, and you are to yours. If I am threatened, I will report the threats. And that is that.

You are allowed to self Dx. I’m not going to say that it’s better than a professional diagnosis 100% of the time, but some people are not capable of getting a professional Dx at that point in their lives. Sometimes, it’s the start of the journey towards finding answers, and that is why I support it. You do not need dysphoria to be trans. Now mind you, I am referring to the umbrella term here. I feel that sometimes, you don’t agree with the identity that you were assigned with at birth, and that it can cause a serious disconnect. This can apply to many different identities, whether that is genderfluidity, gender neutrality, or another identity, it is not for me to say. I am not in charge of your body, you mind, and how your autonomy works. I know that people will argue with me on this, but I think the most important thing is that we all need to support each other in the community, regardless of what labels we use. It’s a journey of self discovery, and sometimes, labels change. It’s okay. I love you no matter what. Aspec People belong in the LGBT+ community. I’m not going to expand on this because I don’t have to. There is plenty of history that you can look up for yourself on the internet, and I don’t have to justify myself. Your spiritual beliefs (or lack thereof) are yours to practice, and I’m not going to shame you for them. I have my own beliefs, and I’m not going to shove them down your throat. I’m not going to tell you that you’re going to hell. I’m not going to try to “convert” you. I’m going to respect you to the best of my ability, and if I need clarification on anything, I will try my best to make sure that I do not overstep any boundaries. I will not shame you for your body, no matter how you look or how it works. It is not my place to tell you how to look, how to dress, or how to take care of yourself. I love you and I hope that you can love yourself, too. Abled people do not have a say in how to treat disabled bodies. You do not know our pain and you have not gone through the same journies that we have. This goes the same for neurotypical people and speaking for neurodivergent people. We know ourselves better than you ever could. POC voices are the only voices that matter on topics that relate to their struggles. White voices hold no weight because we know nothing about what we are saying. BLACK LIVES MATTER. FOREVER.

There are many topics that I have not addressed here, but I cannot think of many more at this current moment. I’m considering making some sort of masterpost, or fixing up my FAQ later on to better address all these things later on. But I have more that I need to and want to say in this post, and I need to move on.

It’s been a long time, and things change. I have changed. This blog has changed many times. I will probably be revamping the appearance of the blog soon as well. so I decided that this long post is a good time to say the things that I need to say.

I want to help people. I might be a bit of a grump, and sometimes, I’m a bit of a wild card when it comes to things that I’ve posted in the past (read as: I’ve posted some really dark shit because I’ve been in some really dark places in the past). I don’t know everything, but I still want to be here to help others. I want to be here for people that are struggling with pain, and need some help. I want to be here for people that are hurting and don’t know how to start the process of healing. I want to be here for people that maybe don’t have the capability to get the help that they need, because they will never have the chance. I want to be the friend that I never had when I was younger. If I can do that, I’ll be happy. This might just be wishful thinking, but I really do want to be a bigger voice in the disabled community, in the mental health community, and in the LGBT+ community. I want to be part of something bigger.

So once again I will say: I’m Sava. I’m 22. I’m a triple A. I’m polyaffectionate. I’m disabled. And I want to help others and make a difference.

[queenofcats17]

@bornoffireandwisdom asked for another follow up to this story.

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Lacie had been surviving with Bertram since the apocalypse had started and they were doing a rather good job at it. Her mechanical work had given her enough physical strength to wield her weapons with sufficient force and their combined mechanical knowledge allowed them to build effective traps to keep the zombies out. 

Neither was the most agile, especially Bertram, but they knew how to be quick and quiet when they needed to be. They more than made up for it with their caution and resourcefulness, though, as well as their acute knowledge of each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They didn’t charge into any situation without first having a plan. Bertram wasn’t much of a combatant, so when they had to clear out zombies, Bertram hung back and allowed Lacie to take care of them. 

The two of them moved quickly and quietly, never taking more than they needed from the houses and stores they raided. They couldn’t afford to be greedy and they needed to travel light. Bertram rationed out the supplies of food, medicine, and water so that they wouldn’t run out, keeping a logbook in his bag. Organization was his specialty. 

Their latest shelter was a cabin out in the middle of the woods that they’d stumbled upon. Lacie had rigged up traps around it and now they were recuperating from their journey. They’d been on the move for almost a week straight at that point. They’d run into trouble in the last city they’d found, which had ended with Bertram breaking his arm. Lacie had managed to set it and make a makeshift cast, but both of them knew he needed rest.

Which meant Bertram was watching the safe house while Lacie went foraging for supplies. Bertram was less than thrilled that he had to stay cooped up in the house, but he understood the reason for it. It didn’t stop him from getting antsy, though, pacing around the cramped confines of the cabin and jumping at every creak of every floorboard. He knew it was silly to be so jumpy, especially since he and Lacie had set up some rather loud traps, but he couldn’t help it.

“This whole business is driving me insane,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

He collapsed into the chair he’d pulled up beside the window, leaning on his hand and gazing out into the forest beyond the cabin. The wind blowing through the trees made the tin cans they’d rigged up rattle a bit. He scanned the treeline for any sign of movement. And, to his surprise, he saw something.

A figure was making their way through the trees. Their steps were too sure to be that of a zombie, their movements too controlled and calm. A wave of relief washed over Bertram at the sight of another human and he jumped up to go greet the survivor. As soon as this relief had passed, though, fear replaced it. Many survivors he and Lacie had met had been rather hostile. Just in case, Bertram grabbed an ax from beside the door before leaving the cabin.

“Hello there!” He called out to the figure. 

“Bertie?” A voice called back. 

Bertram frowned. He knew that voice. 

“Shawn?” He squinted, trying to get a better look. 

At this confirmation, Shawn broke into a sprint. It didn’t take long for him to reach Bertram, throwing his arms around the older man. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Bertie,” he mumbled into Bertram’s shoulder. 

“I’m glad to see you too,” Bertram replied, setting the ax down and patting Shawn with his free hand. “Why don’t you come inside?”

Shawn nodded, pulling away. He looked terrible, which was to be expected in all honesty. But Shawn looked worse than others Bertram had seen. There were dark bags under his eyes and his face was pale and gaunt. 

“My word! You look horrible!” Bertram said as he ushered Shawn into the cabin. “What happened? And where’s Grant?”

Shawn tensed, hunching his shoulders and avoiding Bertram’s gaze. He didn’t need to say anything. His actions told Bertram everything he needed to know. Bertram’s expression softened. 

“You have my deepest apologies, Shawn,” he said, his voice gentle.

“It’s fine,” Shawn mumbled. 

But it wasn’t. They both knew it wasn’t. 

.

They sat almost completely in silence until Lacie returned. Bertram got Shawn some food and made sure he was comfortable. It didn’t seem as though Shawn wanted to talk, so Bertram wasn’t going to push it. Shawn had taken up residence on the bed, his back against the wall.

“I’m back!” Lacie announced when she returned, slamming the door open.

“Welcome back.” Bertram greeted her from his chair by the window “What did you find?”

“Found some medicine, bandages.” Lacie put down her bag, bringing out her spoils. “Some canned beans, tuna in a can, pain meds.” She threw the bottle of painkillers at Bertram. 

“Looks like you had a good haul,” Shawn rasped with a small smile.

Lacie abruptly looked up upon hearing Shawn’s voice. Her eyes were wide.

“What the Hell are you doing here?!” She demanded, getting to her feet. Despite her aggressive tone, she had a big smile on her face.

“It’s, uh, it’s a long story.” Shawn’s smile faded and he drew into himself once more. 

“Where’s Grant?” She asked. “I didn’t expect you to go anywhere without him. Especially now.”

Abruptly, the light in Shawn’s eyes went out. He all but shut down, hunching his shoulders and drawing his knees up to his chest. Lacie frowned, looking at Bertram for clarification. Bertram just shook his head. 

“He...That’s a joke, right?” Lacie’s expression grew solemn. “Tell me it’s a joke. Tell me this is some stupid joke.” 

She received no answer.

“How? How did it happen?” Her voice was dark.

“I dunno,” Shawn mumbled. “I dunno how. He hid it. He hid it and then it was too late and...” He trailed off, a sob tearing through his body.

The cabin was silent, the only sounds coming from Shawn as he began to cry. Bertram said nothing, hands folded in his lap. He wasn’t as familiar with Grant as Lacie and Shawn were. He knew the boy well enough to be sad that he was gone, but not enough to be as devastated as the other two.

“Dammit!” Lacie suddenly yelled, turning and punching the wall. There were tears in her eyes too. Bertram rose, crossing the room to put a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t apologize.” Lacie shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Bertram said. “But I’m sorry all the same.”

Lacie nodded again, trying to keep herself calm. Shawn was still crying, although it was silent now. 

Once she’d calmed herself, Lacie went outside to make sure the cabin was secure. She wasn’t going to let Shawn or Bertram meet the same fate Grant had. 

.

He was still following the smell.

It had gotten fainter. He was having a harder time following it.

He didn’t know how long he’d been walking. The sun had come up and gone at least once. He didn’t really notice.

He was getting hungry again. Hunger made it hard to think. Hunger made him lose the smell.

He’d seen others like him and some instinct inside told him to follow them. He had a few times. It had taken a while for him to remember he needed to follow the familiar smell. The smell was fainter when he started following it again.

He stopped to eat once. Another dead animal. It had already been pretty picked over. But it was enough to dull the hunger.

He’d found trees. He knew that word, even if he didn’t know why. The trees loomed above him. There were others like him, but many were tangled in wires or ropes. He wasn’t interested.

There were new smells now. Smells like the familiar one. He knew these smells too. He didn’t like them as much as the familiar smell too. 

There was a house in the distance. The familiar smell was there, as well as the new familiar smells.

He stumbled closer, an eagerness welling up in his chest. He was almost there. He’d almost found the smell. 

That was when he fell onto the rope with the cans.

[tmwblog]

Every Base ER Has a Story (or 20)

These two things happened at the same night at the Fort Leonard Wood ER when my S.O. was stationed there several years ago.

My husband brought me in due to abdominal pain that spread into my  back.  I checked in and took a seat.  

Some time passed, probably only minutes, but I couldn’t have kept track if I’d wanted to, and two young men in the ARMY were dragging an unconscious 3rd between them.  They were in uniform, the day had been hot, so if i had to guess, it was heat exhaustion and/or/with dehydration.  They manage to prop him up in a chair and one of the two alert men check him in.

Then, staff make him wait.  The men with him start stripping his blouse off. 

Now, for clarification, it’s only them, myself (with my S.O.), and another woman in the ER. Since I had been there, no one else has gone in, or come out.  

I am not a quiet person by nature, but I’m in no shape to yell at some bitches behind the counter to do something about an unconscious young man in the ARMY.  Who leaves someone unconscious like that?  I’m about to say something to my S.O. about telling them to get the young man back to be treated, but before I can, the other person waiting stands up and plays the part of yours truly: Woman Who Takes No Shit.

I was quite proud of her.  Also a bit jealous.  Mostly because she had the patience and ability to command where as I would just bark orders and expect them to do as I say.

No, I am not an officer’s wife.

No, I do not think I am better than anyone else because of my S.O.’s rank.

I simply think it’s an injustice to leave another human being that way and expect other human beings to react the same way to the suffering of others.

Oh, but man, did things move along when she had her say.  Someone wheeled out a wheelchair and the two that brought him in, placed him in it.  Then they all went back.

Now let me just pause for a moment here to explain to you the general attitude of the people working at the Fort Leonard Wood ARMY hospital (officially  General Leonard Wood Army Community Hospital).  It was shit.  They treated you like shit.  They didn’t even look at you when you spoke to them when checking in, and, if you were to die while standing there, I’m fairly sure no one would have noticed.  Or cared.  So this event wasn’t a one time thing.  I have many FLW Hospital horror stories.

Moving along, I finally get to go back.  It’s been at least an hour, according to my S.O. meanwhile, the waiting room had been slowly filling up and no one else had gone back since the unconscious ARMY man & company.  When I go back, I pass a bunch of empty rooms, and a nurses station with several nurses and two doctors standing around, chatting with each other.  Nice work, guys.

Taken to a room, I get my temp and BP taken, then I get to WAIT SOME MORE. Not sure how long it was, felt like forever, but it usually does when you’re in pain. 

Eventually the doctor comes in, I explain my pain as he’s looking at my medical history in the computer.  Trust me, there’s nothing in there that screams MED SEEKER.  I didn’t even come looking for pain killers, I came looking to find out what the hell was wrong with me.  

The doctor asks me a few questions.  While I don’t recall them, I do recall them not being quite relevant to the situation, and the feeling of confusion.  Then he asks, “Are you sure this isn’t just your Bi-polar disorder?”

Say what? Are you kidding me?  Yes, my brain has moved to my abdomen and instead of causing severe depression, it’s causing such severe pain I found it necessary to go into the ER so I can be asked ridiculous questions by someone under qualified to care for anyone who is ill.

I don’t recall the outcome, it was many years ago.  I just recall the rage I felt at being asked if my abdominal pain was due to my bi-polar disorder.  

Where did you get your degree? Oh right, military training. You probably don’t know what a degree is.