#goodbye health insurance

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[justsome-di]

how am I supposed to be excited for my birthday next month when I'm turning 26 in America

[anonymusbosch]

yup we both got laid off along with like 60 other people

[greenfiredragonfly]

Reading a fic. Enjoying it. On chapter 11. Read the line "that isn't something you do for someone who's just a friend". Close the fic.

Fuck I hate the way society is

Fuck

Bullshit

I'm so tired

[sparkspropaganda]

i needed gender affirming care and was feeling massively disillusioned by who is in network (after not being listened to for the nth time lol) so i'm glad I went to the clinic I did even if it was out of network but those bills.... okay....

[half-giant]

It's my birthday. Everybody say "Happy Birthday Gwen"

[kacievvbbbb]

Also the fact that like Nani is pressured into giving up custody for Lilo because she doesn’t have insurance and can’t afford the hospital bill and she’s coerced into signing because then the state will cover it. I’m supposed to find that a heart warming moment when the social worker is showing that she cares about Nani and Lilo? Really? How is that not just financial coercion? How is that just not a criticism of the health care industry in America (that I’m sure they didn’t mean to do on purpose)

Also it’s so blatantly obvious how the writers of this movie have no idea why Nani sings Aloha 'Oe to Lilo the night she finds out she is going to be taken away. A YouTuber named Sideways, who analyzes music in film(and has done a whole video about how Disney’s live action remakes don’t work musically years before this) explained that scene so beautifully.

How the sond Aloha 'Oe was originally written by the Queen of Hawaii for the people of Hawaii after American Colonizers forced her to surrender the Islands. How she performed it as a last goodbye for the country that was being taken away from her. And that mirrors how Lilo is now being taken away from Nani by colonial forces (even tho Cobra Bubbles does mean well and sympathizes lilo is still being given into the care of the US government) and this is her subtle goodbye to her. And it’s fucking brilliant and you can tell that that scene was written by people that fucking care and know what the fuck kind of movie they are writing. The scene is solemn and is treated as such. Nani sings it as tho it were a lullaby and a final goodbye. It’s the first time the song is sang in the movie because the writers actually understand the gravity of it.

Instead what we get in the live action is lilo first singing it to Stitch randomly while doing (I think maybe the accompanying?) Hula because why the fuck not. And then a lifeless dark scene where Nani plays the ukulele and sings to her like the fact that she had just been coerced into giving up her sister wasn’t just treated like a good and final decision. Because, why the fuck not.

[porceline]

Optimus could never touch you.

No. He would never.

He's seen his fellow Autobots touch your kind plenty of times, holding them up high for a new perspective, settling them on their shoulders just to keep them near. Yes, he's seen it. And he isn't against it. He knows perfectly well how much humans need physical touch, and how much it contributes to their physical and mental health.

He's seen you hug the children many times, such a thing he's come to realize is a symbol of many things. A greeting, a goodbye, an act of adoration, affection, or even Love.

There was only one time he has made physical contact with a human. In a dire situation, he had to move Agent Fowler as to insure his safety. That moment was much too quick for him to linger on the feeling of such a tiny living being in his hands.

At times, he finds himself jealous of the others. Their lack of fear, yet their lingering anxiety that any wrong movement could easily turn your body into.. mush.

It's no secret that he's a steady hand, nearly comparable to Ratchets, but obviously much larger. Though, despite his overwhelmingly cautious steps around your platform, he still doesn't trust himself to touch any of you.

You're too delicate, too fragile. Your bodies are so different, yet so similar. But his fear overwhelms him.

Yes, he knows you're safe in his cabin. Surrounded by over two-tons of alien-grade metal that can withstand the blast of several shots of molten energon, but not the touch of a human. More specifically, you.

It's not just his strength that hes afraid of, no. It goes deeper than that.

His hands have taken many lives, stained with the energon of his own species. He has done many things that he is not proud of.

And he's so, so afraid, that if he were to hold you, even for just a moment, you would be so sickened that you wouldn't even spare him a glance the next time you saw him. You wouldn't bless him with that charming, sparkling smile of yours that you greet everyone with.

No, no matter how much you plead with him, how much you beg to be close to him because you just love him so much..

He will never touch you.

He can never, touch you.

[bellaxgiornata]

There's Still Light in the Darkness

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3k [Matt Murdock Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; depression, emotional hurt/comfort, boyfriend Matt, angst with a hopeful ending

Summary: For months you'd been stuck in a dark place inside your mind, but Matt finds a unique way to remind you of the light.

a/n: This is a purely self-indulgent, personal little thing, but maybe it'll speak to some of y'all. I've been quietly struggling with my own depression for months and found myself wondering 'What would Matt say about all that darkness in my mind?' Then this came out. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated.

Sitting cross legged on the leather couch, you’d been staring at the obnoxious and colorful billboard directly in front of the large windows of the sixth floor apartment for most of the morning. You’d initially sat here earlier with a cup of coffee staring out of those same windows after you’d told Matthew goodbye. Now, long after having finished that coffee, you were still sitting here staring vacantly at the changing ads as they ran on a loop. 

Despite it being Saturday morning, Matt had left to meet with Foggy and Karen at their office to work on an upcoming case. Which meant you were left here alone–something you should’ve been used to by now considering how Matt spent a few of his evenings every week. 

Except you weren’t used to it. 

For the past few months, for whatever damn reason, you found yourself just stuck like this whenever Matt wasn’t home. You’d usually try to force yourself out of it by doing something productive–washing some dishes, making dinner, cleaning the apartment, doing a load of laundry. Something. But it didn’t matter how many times you cleaned off the stovetop or scrubbed down the bathroom, you couldn’t escape that darkness in your head. There was an ever-present shadow that felt like it was gradually swallowing your mind, following you from the moment you woke up until the moment you finally managed to fall back asleep.

You knew Matt had begun to notice the change in your mood, too. He’d started asking if you were alright at least three times a day beginning last week. Knowing you could never get a lie over on him by just dismissively telling him that you were alright, you often told him a variation of some safe responses you'd grown to learn over time. Either you were stressed out from work, tired from poor sleep, or unsure if your hormones were just going crazy. If his senses ever registered your excuses as an outright lie, he’d never called you out on it. 

But truthfully? No, you weren’t okay. You hadn’t been for quite some time, and if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t really know why you’d been feeling this way. You were fortunate to have a decent paying, stable career–even if you didn’t like your job more than ninety percent of the time. You had a loving, attentive boyfriend that you trusted with your whole heart even if he also spent his evenings saving strangers on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen dressed in a devil suit. You had friends. You had family. You had decent fucking health insurance–something most unfortunately did not. Matt and you weren’t financially in the best place, but you weren’t starving and struggling to pay bills, either.

You had no reason to be feeling like you were. You knew that. And yet that only made you feel even worse. Because of that unexplainable darkness that hung over you like a second skin. That darkness you just could not shake off no matter how many times you laid in bed, or cried, or paced around the damn apartment when Matt wasn’t around. It didn't matter how hot you turned the shower up and burned your skin, or how many times you forced a smile on your face and told jokes at work. That heavy weight in your soul felt as if it was a sinking stone trying to drown you lately. You couldn’t get rid of it.

“Sweetheart?”

Startling at the sudden voice within the apartment, your head darted over your shoulder only to find Matt standing just past the entryway hall. He was dressed in the dress shirt and suit coat he’d thrown on this morning, his tie slightly askew. You’d found it sweet how he’d still dressed as if he was actually going into work to meet clients this morning when their office wasn’t technically even open today. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Matt took a few more steps towards the back of the leather couch, eventually bending over to set his briefcase down. His dark brows were drawn together, partially dipping beneath the red lenses of his glasses as he studied you. The concern was evident on his features despite half of them being hidden from your view.

“What?” you asked, shifting towards him. 

Matt raised a hand, pointing a finger at where you were sitting. “You’ve been sitting there crying since I stepped into the lobby downstairs. I could hear you,” he stated. “What’s wrong?”

Reaching a hand up from your lap, you dabbed your fingers along your cheeks, just beneath your eyes. Wetness coated the pads of them, surprising even yourself. 

“Oh, I didn’t–”

“Don't give me that again, sweetheart,” Matt said, his tone low and measured. “It's not just a hormonal thing or whatever else you want to blame. You've been in and out of it for months now. Talk to me.”

A slow, reluctant sigh fell past your lips. He was right. Of course he was right. He could read your body after all, there was no point in denying it.

“Yeah, alright,” you agreed softly, wiping the rest of the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. “I'm not doing alright. And it's stupid because I know I shouldn’t even be feeling like this.”

Matt made his way around the couch to sit down beside you, settling onto the cushion next to you. His hand reached out, lightly resting along your knee and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The warmth and weight of his palm was soothing, but it didn't make that darkness in your mind magically fade away.

“You're allowed to feel however you're feeling,” he told you gently. “Don't invalidate yourself. But talk to me, sweetheart. What's going on?”

Chewing your lip, you looked down at his hand where it sat along your knee. His thumb was gently brushing back and forth over your sweatpants, moving in a soft, circular pattern. 

“I don't know,” you admitted quietly. “I don't know why I feel like this. I just can't stop. Everything just feels so…dark all of the time. It's so damn suffocating that I feel like I can’t just be happy–or just be.”

A heavy silence met your words, your eyes still focused on his hand. But you could see Matt from the corner of your eye. He was clearly deep in thought, you could tell by the way his lips were drawn into a thin line. You'd gotten used to reading his face with his Daredevil cowl on more than enough times to know that by now. 

After a long moment of silence, Matt's hand lightly patted your knee. Looking over at him beside you on the leather couch, you eyed him with furrowed brows.

“Come on,” he said, hand sliding off your knee as he rose from the couch. “I've got an idea. And it involves you getting some fresh air and sunshine.”

“Matt,” you replied flatly, looking up at his outstretched hand, “I'm not a plant.”

The corner of his lips curled back into one of his familiar cheeky grins. The playful kind you loved to see on his face. The kind of grin that had a small one slipping onto your face in return. 

“I know,” he answered. “That's why we're getting coffee, too.”

Hands entwined together, you walked side by side next to Matt in a park a few blocks from the apartment. There was a coffee in your other hand, the warmth of it comforting each time you took a sip, just like the heat from the afternoon sun overhead felt like a temporary balm as it shone along your face. 

You looked around the pair of you, scanning the busy footpath. It was Saturday afternoon on one of the first nice, sunny spring days in early May, so of course everyone was outside enjoying the day. But that darkness still hung over you as you walked, your shoulder occasionally brushing against Matt’s.

“So was this the plan?” you asked him curiously. “Bring me outside for coffee and fresh air? That cures depression and sadness?”

He chuckled softly beside you, shaking his head as he followed you along the path. “No,” he answered. “There’s not a ‘cure’ for depression, sweetheart. I think we both know that. But,” he continued, looking over at you while you both walked, “you said something I could relate to back at the apartment. About everything feeling dark. It had me thinking that maybe you just needed someone to help you see some light. That it might ease some of that weight.”

Brows knitting together, you shot Matt a sideways glance. “So you are telling me sunlight is the answer? Because I told you earlier, Matthew, I’m not a plant.” 

That cheeky grin was back on his face as he shook his head again, an amused huff passing between his lips. You felt his large hand squeeze yours, the gesture tender and comforting.

“I wasn’t speaking about seeing literal light, sweetheart,” he explained. “I meant a different kind of light. A metaphorical light. The type that brightens the world when it starts to feel a little too dark, a little too bleak.”

His words gave you pause–quite literally. You had briefly stopped mid-step, staring back at him in interest and confusion before you realized that you were both suddenly blocking everyone else on the footpath. Guiding the pair of you out of the way, you led Matt over to a nearby empty park bench so you could talk.

“The way you say that,” you began quietly, lowering down to sit on the bench beside him, “makes it sound like you’re talking about something personal. Something you do. Because of all the horrible parts of the world you witness that the rest of us don’t.”

Matt nodded slowly, drawing his cup of coffee up to his mouth for a drink as he sat beside you. You noticed his expression had grown serious now, far less playful than it had been a moment ago. You’d often wondered how Matt handled the things he encountered as Daredevil. The muggings, the assaults, the abductions. People in need of help and Daredevil sometimes not being able to save them. For someone who endured as much as they did, Matt seemed surprisingly well-adjusted–all things considered, of course. He absolutely had his faults, but how Matt wasn’t losing his mind solely from what his enhanced hearing alone could catch of the pain in the city was a mystery to you.

“Try something for me and just focus for a moment. Close your eyes,” he directed.

You pulled a face at the idea immediately, a soft scoff following after. Close your eyes? What was he trying to do?

“Come on, I’m being serious here,” he continued, turning his attention on you sitting beside him. “Close your eyes.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, you lowered your head and shut your eyes. You felt a little ridiculous doing it, though. No doubt people were staring at you as they walked past.

“Fine, they’re closed,” you told him.

“What do you hear?” he asked.

You snorted immediately at the question, your eyes still shut. “Not remotely as much as you,” you retorted.

Matt nudged your arm with his shoulder, the gesture immediately quieting you. He was trying to help you, to show you something that he felt was important. You figured you should probably stop messing around and give him that chance.

“Okay, I suppose…I hear people?” you replied after a moment. “Cars?”

“Mhmm, what else?” he encouraged.

Shifting on the park bench uncomfortably, you tried to focus a bit more closely on the noise around you. Briefly you wondered if this is what it felt like on a far smaller scale when Matt tried to zero in on particular sounds with his heightened hearing. Did he have to focus this much?

“Kids playing in the park nearby, laughing and shouting,” you continued. “A lot of people in the park walking around and having conversations. Pigeons cooing. Car horns and traffic.”

“And what do you smell?” he asked.

Once more, you immediately pulled a face at the question. “Seriously, Matt? You want me to pay attention to the smell in the city?”

His deep chuckle met your ears before he nudged your arm again. “Doesn’t have to be the disgusting parts,” he told you. “But keep your eyes closed.”

Shaking your head at him, you switched your focus to the smells of the city around you. This was an exercise you’d certainly never done before–sitting in the middle of a park focusing on your damn senses.

“I smell my coffee,” you began, hearing Matt’s soft, encouraging hum beside you. “The detergent we use that’s not completely scent-less. I’d say fresh air, but it smells more like gasoline than anything.” Opening up an eye, you peaked over at Matt beside you. “And if you want to know how I’m feeling? A little ridiculous right now.”

Matt smiled back at you, his lips gradually pulling upwards at the corners. He leaned back against the park bench, throwing an arm along the back of it behind you. As you brought your coffee to your lips for a drink, you leaned into his side. 

“You know what I hear?” he asked you.

A sarcastic comment had been on the tip of your tongue, but you held it in. Because you found yourself genuinely curious about his answer.

“No, what?” you questioned.

Matt nodded his head in the direction of the playground currently filled with boys and girls running around. Some parents were pushing their little ones on the swings, others were watching them slide down slides. A few kids seemed to be chasing each other playing a game.

“Friendships being formed,” he told you. “Those kids over there just met a few minutes ago. And,” he continued, gesturing his head off in the direction of the street nearby, “a young man off to a job interview. He’s nervous because he really wants this job.” 

Completely enraptured by the insight into Matt’s view of the world, you sat silently beside him as he spoke. His hand holding his coffee raised, gesturing far off to the other side of the park as he continued.

“That bakery way over there opened up a few months ago,” he told you. “The woman who owns it is recently widowed, but she always gives free cookies to the kids that stop in. Just because it makes her happy.” His hand holding his coffee moved, now gesturing over to a couple sitting at a park bench not that far from the both of you. “They got engaged two months ago. They're already planning a wedding for next spring while discussing moving into an apartment together. They can’t seem to agree on decor. And–” his coffee cup pointed at a woman jogging past you both, “–she’s a few months pregnant.”

Your eyes followed after the woman jogging past your bench, Matt’s words lingering in your mind. You often forgot just how much more he could experience in the world around you with his heightened senses. While you often knew it could be overwhelming for him, you’d never really stopped to think about all of these other things he noticed that no one else could. It was fascinating.

“This is what it’s like for you?” you whispered, eyes shifting around the park, watching the various people going about their afternoon. “You’re just always picking up on all of these little things about the world and everyone in it?”

“Yes, but that’s not exactly the point of this,” he replied.

His hand slid down from the back of the bench, landing on your shoulder as he pulled you further into his side. Shifting beside him, you looked over at Matt as one of your brows slowly rose in silent question. You had a feeling you knew where this was going. 

“So what was it?” you asked. “Teaching me to practice mindfulness?”

Matt shrugged lightly beside you. “I suppose in a sense you could call it that,” he answered.

You studied his face for a long moment, wishing you could see behind his glasses right now. But you knew what he was getting at, you didn’t need him to spell it out for you.

“This is what you do, isn’t it?” you asked him. “When the world gets too dark even for you.”

One corner of his lips curved upwards at your observation, the sight of it telling you everything that you needed to know. This was exactly how Matt Murdock coped with the death and the pain and the despair in the city–by focusing on the life around him.

“There’s always light, sweetheart,” Matt told you softly. “I know how it feels when the weight of all that darkness seems to have snuffed it out permanently, but it’s never actually gone. Because it's always all around you–and in you.” His thumb affectionately brushed over your shoulder, that partial smile still on his lips. “Sometimes you just need to remember to get out of your head and find it again.”

Somehow, his words had hit you harder than you'd expected. Looking away, your eyes trailed over the different people in the park, quietly watching the life happening all around you, a strange swell of emotions bubbling in the back of your mind that hadn't been there a minute ago.

“That's incredibly insightful for a man who forgets to eat if I don't remind him half the time,” you pointed out quietly.

A soft, amused laugh slipped out of Matt beside you, his thumb still tenderly rubbing your shoulder. “I know,” he said. “But you see it now, don't you?”

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, your attention shifted to the kids playing on the playground. The tiniest glimmer of something flickered past that dark shadow of your mind. Not enough to expel it, but enough to create some holes through that darkness.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I can see it.”

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ardent-crow @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-girl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler @valhallavalkyrie9 @let-it-go-and-live-again @thetorturedpoetcalleddez @steviebbboi

[ns2dstudios]

My EPIC Journey

Where do I even begin? I have dreamt of being an animator ever since I was a little girl, growing up with the Disney animation renaissance era as well as a non-stop barrage of anime, in particular Dragonball Z. I even wrote in my high school yearbook that I dreamed of one day working for the studio that worked on Dragonball Z just so I can animate for that very series. And I made sure everyone knew it LOL

The dream didn't materialize, but after decades of struggle, I got something far better than I could ever have imagined. I get to animate at the comfort of my own home. I get the career I've always wanted, and am able to generally work at my own time. I get to work with a wonderful team (drawmisu, Camalemsy, Novi, Nathan Kuan, Jenny) who are generous with their time and talents and are fun to work with. And I get to work with wonderful clients who have changed my life and afforded me and my family the comforts we are enjoying, from Mortius, to Casper Fox, but most of all to Jorge Rivera-Herrans, whom I fondly call simply as Jay.

Jay gave me the amazing opportunity to be part of the roster of talented (skillented according to Casper) animator for the official EPIC: The Musical animatics and animations. He entrusted me with his vision, is just an overall joy to work with, and as some of you may know during the Vengeance Saga, literally saved my life for the simple fact that he commissioned me two animations (Dangerous and 600 strike finale), which allowed me, who does not have health insurance, to afford expensive care for a bad case of pneumonia. Without Jay, I would not only have reached my dreams, but I would literally not be here typing this. (Don't worry, with the generosity of my clients, I am actually now shopping around for a good health insurance company....which I know is a hot button topic right now, but I don't live in the US and our private health care here is often times better than public).

But I digress.

With the premiere of the Ithaca Saga, comes the conclusion of the concept album of EPIC: The Musical. But as Jay mentioned, the journey is far from done. I have so many things planned: more commissioned animatics from clients whom I also consider dear friends, more EPIC fan animatics and animations, more musical animatics from other IPs, an animated short, an animated trailer for my upcoming animated pilot episode, and so much more in the future!

Everything I have, the happiness and contentment that I am experiencing right now would not be possible had my paths not crossed with Jay's and his wonderful EPIC the Musical project. Our paths would not have crossed where it not for the EPIC fans who relentlessly tagged him in my animated works, which made him take notice and reach out. And I would not have become a big fan of EPIC, where it not for my cousin Julia, who had been relentless in her goal to turn me into an EPIC fan ever since the TROY saga dropped (I will never stop thank you, pinsan! Love you so much!)

This is not goodbye. This is see you again soon.

REAL SOON.

Bye for now, you guys! This has been Gwendy from NS2D Studios saying, I will see you, when I see you.

[bigfan-fanfic]

You May Sanctuary Find (Winchester!Reader x Winchester Bros [PLATONIC])

A sequel to Brother Mine and Back Into Trouble

The title this time comes from "Little Brother," a poem by Robert W. Service that really, I think, epitomizes the relationship between the eldest Winchester and his brothers, especially the last verse: "Little Brother, how I pray/You may sanctuary find. /Peoples of the world succumb . . ./Fly, poor fools, the WRATH TO COME!"

Anyway, this time, the story takes place after the 1st episode of Season Two, right after John's death.

He's gone. After all that, it wasn't even a direct kill from a monster that did it.

It had been hard - you hadn't been able to see him at the end, because since you actually had insurance, you were able to get some better care. It was only after that you learned about how Dean had nearly passed and John had apologized to him before... taking care of things himself.

Neither one of them is willing to talk. Which makes sense.

This family has never been very good at communication.

Even if he tried his best to make peace at the end, it's still hard not to hate him for what he's done.

Even to save Dean, you hate that he's still messing up your little brothers.

You hate that he never even made an effort to talk to you before it all.

But while you're raw, you know how to deal with this. You've mourned the father you knew better than Sam and Dean ever got to, the one before your mom died when you were seven and he disappeared forever, stolen and replaced by a grieving, vengeful hunter of monsters.

It's rough for Bobby to see you all like this, brought so low after you all had hope that something would change.

That you'd get a win for once.

You call in from Bobby's phone, let your assistant know that you've been in a car accident, that you'll be on the way home soon to recover.

"After all this?" you hear Dean say. "You're still leaving?"

"We did this to find Dad. We found him." you reply wearily.

"What about Yellow Eyes? You're not going to help us take down the son of a bitch that got both our parents?"

He's shouting now, approaching, clutching his side that still hurts from the bruising from the accident.

"I'm tired, Dean."

"Tired? You don't get to be tired! You don't get to leave us again!"

You turn away from him. Trying not to lash back. He's allowed to be angry. It's reasonable for him to be angry...

"You're just scared! You're too damn scared to own up and be part of this family. You never loved Dad like I did! Did you even care that Mom died?"

In a scarily fluid movement, you have him pinned to the wall, an arm across his throat and a hand holding down his wrist, already preventing the counterattack before it happened. The wind is knocked out of him, and for a moment, the hunter you were is back.

Such anger, like it was never dealt with. Like it never left. Like you're still the seven year old who lost his mother. Like the fourteen year old with monster blood on his hands. Like the twenty-one year old who hugged his brothers goodbye without the strength to even pray they'd meet again.

Rage and hate, rage and hate. Monster after witch after demon after trickster after monster.

You let him go. The final monster you kill is that hunter inside you.

"I wrote you letters for your birthday every year. I dunno if Dad gave them to you. I would ask you to visit. To stay." you say, almost whispering. You don't even know if it's loud enough for him to hear. "I sent money for Sam. For college. For a house. For you to settle down."

He's trembling. Anger? Remorse? Sorrow?

"I never wanted to leave you. You're my brothers. And after Mom died, and Dad went hunting... someone had to look out for you. Not just your health, but your futures. I still put money away for you. I keep a couple of rooms ready in my apartment for you two. I can't force you two to come with me. I just have to wait. And hope that I can someday protect you again. It's the hardest thing I've had to do."

You look at him, in the eye, forcing him to look back. "I can't do this anymore. Hunting. It brings out a part of me that... that I fear. A part of me that is angry and hateful, and who likes that because it's easier than facing what he fears. I'm done."

Dean turns away from you, face contorting, and you grab his arm.

"But I will never be done being your big brother, Dean. And when you're finally done too, when you're ready to just fucking rest...

"I will be there. I will be there with a home, and peace, and a life. I promise."

He looks at you, on the verge of breaking. "I can't. I have to do this. I have to protect Sammy."

You pull him into a hug. "Then I'll wait for you."

He melts into you, crying and holding on to you tight.

You remember back when you left, all those years ago - Dean had looked at you with such hate. You were dead to him then, for cutting off the family, for breaking Dad's heart.

And now he holds on, because now he knows what you've tried to do. What you're still doing.

"You do what you have to do, little brother." you whisper. "But when you're done, you come home."

"Okay. Okay, I will." He says, voice distorted with emotion, teeth gritted to try and stop crying.

"C-can I still call?" Dean whispers, when you let him go.

"Of course. I insist on it." You smile at him through tears. "I love you, Dean-o."

"Love you too, big brother."

Dean watches you go to find Sam, to say your goodbyes, and he lets himself cry. Bittersweet. He knows you're growing, that this is good, but already he misses you terribly. How is he going to handle this all alone? This terrible task Dad gave him, to protect Sammy, or take him out.

But though he is full of fear, there's a new sense of hope.

You'll only be a phone call away. You'll be waiting for him.

And to a man that has never once had an alternative, that makes all the difference.

[mayakern]

upcoming store stuff & why we're doing a super sale

omg hiiii it's devin again, and this time i'm bringing store news

the short version: we're moving ourselves back to minnesota, and we're moving order fulfillment to a fulfillment center

wow, that's big news! maya and i are so so so excited to be closer to our minnesota friends (and also my family lol). i'm hoping to be back in northeast minneapolis, but let's be real we're probably gonna get priced out and into the suburbs

in addition to that, due to a variety of reasons i'll explain in more detail below, we're transitioning from in-house fulfillment to working with a fulfillment center (or 3pl, short for third-party logistics). we're at an awkward size that makes staffing difficult and have had issues with extended processing time. the 3pl should be set up by september, and we're working on the back end to have fulfillment centers in australia, canada, the UK, and eventually the EU. if tax authorities work with us we should have all that ready by december 2024!

to prepare for that we're doing a super sale. ash told me not to call it liquidation but she said that like 30 seconds after i hit send on the marketing email, sorry about that. items that we don't want to pay to move to the 3pl are discounted by 25-70%, with some of them priced at cost. under no circumstances will anything ever be 70% off again

if you're nosy you can read the q&a i made up in my head while eating pigs in a blanket:

how are the labor protections at the 3pl?

pretty good! we were shocked to find anything even halfway decent in the US; we went looking for a fulfillment center in the EU to handle all international fulfillment, and the one we found just so happened to have bought a US location two years ago.

they're located in ohio, pay $19/hr, and provide health insurance and 401k matching. that seemed too good to be true so we dug through employee reviews on places like glassdoor, and while there were some bad reviews those were all dated prior to when the facility was purchased by this new company. they also have a very low turnover rate which is a HUGE green flag

why are you transferring to a 3pl?

the serious

sometimes we have a high volume of sales, and it makes sense to have two full-time employees plus a part timer! but usually we have a low-to-medium volume of sales. we can float by on that, but it gets risky, and the economy is in a bad enough state that we're concerned about the longevity

related, the 2023 holiday sale showed us some major flaws in our fulfillment process. if the same issues were to happen this year the business probably wouldn't survive

we're moving cross-country in early 2025 and would've had to close this location anyway

the dumb:

i'm sick of dealing with commercial landlords and if i have one more wall leak i'm going to throw it into the river brick by brick

what about your staff?

unfortunately we will have to say goodbye to our office staff. they have been given 3.5 months notice and no-questions-asked PTO for interviews with a small severance

why are you moving back to minnesota?

troy was always meant to be a temporary move. initially the plan was to move to vermont or massachusetts, but after being out here for 7 years we just kinda want to go home. the weather in troy is perfect for us, we love the mountains, and we have some great friends here, but for some goddamn reason we want our eyelashes to freeze together.

will you be returning to midwest cons?

if we return to cons at all it will be with ariel and/or ash running the booth, maya will not be involved. this would likely be in california and/or in the northeast US.

my friends are begging me to go to CONvergence as an attendee so ig you might see me there? maya has pledged death before crowded venues tho

will you do any local events in minnesota?

we might do sample sales. honestly idk what we're gonna do with the samples we have in troy, most of them are terrible. do you want samples of the strangest low rise bell bottom pants ever created? please take them from me. my bush hangs out

also my kid brother has gotten really into library events and if he asks nice enough we might do some of those

is there anything else?

i mean probably, but i started this last week and i haven't had any other ideas on what to include

[bullet-prooflove]

Terry Silver + paper clip, padlock, rainy dawn. 🤗🌹

Tagging: @kmc1989��@thedeadsingforme @eddieslut69 @mia1653 @kimbergoldess

Companion piece to:

Sick Day

Love Story

You sleep though the rest of the night. Terry sits there at your bedside watching the rise and fall of your chest as the rainy dawn filters through the blinds of your hospital room. As he holds your hand he thinks about what would have happened if he hadn’t been there, what the doctors have told him could have happened.

You would have asphyxiated. It would have been slow, agonising and the thought of that, it makes his eyes sting, because a world without you, it simply isn’t worth living in.

The ridiculous thing is that all of this could have been prevented if you just had access to the proper health care, but you had no insurance and you couldn’t afford a doctor’s visit so you’d suffered in silence. Terry would gladly have given you the money but you’re a proud woman, you would never have asked.

After you’d returned from Europe you’d returned to your modest living, picking up a part time job at an art gallery. It’s a foot in the door to the career you want, one that your happy to work for no matter how many times Terry may offer up his contacts. You subsidise your income with ad hoc catering jobs, ones that require you to dress in black and deliver canapés to men like him at charity functions. The food at these events costs more that your wages.

It isn’t until tonight that he realises that your worlds are eons apart.

You haven’t told him how you struggle to make rent every month, that you’re dining on boxed macaroni and noodle cups because you can barely afford to make ends meet. Terry finds that out for himself when he starts to investigate your lack of health insurance.

It’s five am when his lawyer Reenie Greene shows up, she hands Terry the documentation he’s requested, all of it held together with a paperclip. Terry flicks through it studying the terms before he signs it, handing it back to her.

“That’s it?” Terry asks her and she nods her head as she tucks the paperwork back inside her three thousand dollar leather satchel.

“All you need to do is transfer the funds and the trust is set up for her. Any medical expenses she may incur in the future with be deducted from it automatically.” Reenie tells him, before she hoists the bag onto her shoulder and says goodbye.

Terry waits until he hears the clack of her heels retreat down the hall before he picks up his tablet and presses on the padlock, waiting for the device to acknowledge his biometrics. He pulls up one of his accounts before making a generous transfer to the healthcare account he’s set up for you. The one that should see you through the rest of your days.

There’s a relief in his chest as he watches the money disappear before it gets to the place it needs to go. He can breathe easy now, knowing you’re taken care of, that you’ll always be taken care of, with him or without him.

Love Terry? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[scarletqueenx]

THE CHAIN

AU Dean Winchester x Latina!Reader

Summary: After meeting one night in a bar, you, an aspiring singer-songwriter and bartender, and Dean Winchester, a marine about to go on his first tour of duty, agree to marry solely for military benefits. You need his health insurance for your diabetes and he needs to settle his debts and get his life back together. But when tragedy strikes, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

Word Count: 3042

Tags/Warnings: angst, chronic illness, cursing

A/N: Based on Purple Hearts (Netflix, 2022)

PART 2 - YOUR NEEDS, MY NEEDS

You knew Frankie for a long time. Growing up together and babysitting him despite the fact that you were only six years apart had made you quite close. But you had grown apart as soon as you moved away and started looking for new jobs to help your mother financially. You still kept in touch from time to time through messages and phone calls. 

Still, asking for what you were going to ask him for was way too personal. And even if you had a little hope that he'd accept—having prepared a whole presentation beforehand. You knew it was too much and that it might not go anywhere. Still, you let your hopes take over that day.

Your hands fidgeted nervously, your fingers tapping against the cord of your backpack on your shoulder while your other hand tried to control your very unruly hair, which was flying due to the morning wind.

You barely registered who was opening the door, for as soon as it began to move your thoughts were already ready to come out of your mouth. 

“Oh. Hello, you're not Frankie.” You were taken aback when you saw Dean on the other side of the door. Backing up a step as your eyes met his evergreen ones.

He paused for a second, lowering his gaze to your T-shirt and what was written on it. 

The future is female.

“So, what happens to the men in the future? Is it a plague? Robot wars?” He asked, as his eyes found yours once again.

“Do you really wanna know?” You tilted your head with a teasing smirk on your lips. He waited. “It doesn't end well for the bros.”

“Is that your car?” He frowned, looking behind you, where a 1997 Subaru Legacy Outback was parked.

“My Lexus? Yeah.” You replied, walking past him to enter your friend's house. Your face lit up as soon as you saw Frankie sitting in his home's kitchen. “Hi. Dude, the banners.” You commented, having noticed all the decorations his parents had put up to say goodbye and wish him luck on his first tour of duty as a Marine.

He chuckled.

“Your parents are so proud.” You smiled.

“You know my momma.” He shrugged, a little embarrassed. You gave him a tender smile before noticing how Dean stood there with you.

“Would you mind giving us a minute?” You looked at him with annoyance. He sighed. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” 

“Aw.” You muttered as you saw another 'we'll miss you' banner.

“Yeah, uh, Mom's going a little crazy with the goodbyes. Leave's over. We're headed to base camp today.” Frankie explained. “Hey, you hungry? Want something?” He stood up and walked towards the fridge.

“No, I'm good.”

“So, what's the big question, girl?” He asked you, since you had already told him that you'd be dropping by his house.

“It's, uh... It's gonna sound a little crazy.” You admitted, nervously.

“I'm ready.” He assured you.

“I was wondering…” You sighed, letting out a sigh as you looked for better words. “I was hoping that you might marry me.”

As expected, Frankie couldn't help but let out a big laugh. “What?”

You quickly joined him, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. “I'm serious.”

Your laughs died away slowly as Frankie's look quickly changed to one of concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Not exactly. Um... I found out six months ago that I have diabetes. Type 1. And, uh...“ You let out a nervous laugh. “Get this. Uh, the insurance I have doesn't actually cover the insulin that I need to like, live. So, I can either pay off my debt, or pay my rent, but I just... I can't do both.”

“I'm so sorry.” His expression turned apologetic.

“And I'm like, there's gotta be another way, right?” You continued, trying to get your shit together and explain everything to him as quickly as possible. “Turns out there is. Your friend gave me the idea when you guys came to the bar. Marine spouses get full health benefits. And we get extra pay just for being married. Like basic housing allowance and separation pay, which adds up to be pretty decent, and we could split it, and everybody wins.”

You pulled out your phone to show him all the information you'd gathered, not realizing that while he was picking up his laundry outside, Dean had been listening to your conversation.

“What do you think?” You looked back at Frankie, who stayed silent. “Take your time.”

Before Frankie could say anything, Dean opened the back door to burst into the kitchen.

“I'm sorry.” He spoke. “My dad's a retired MP.”

“Excuse me. Private discussion.” You blinked in disbelief. 

“MP is the Military Police.” Frankie explained.

“Frankie, this is a common scam.” Dean insisted. “They kick the tires on these things, and if they find out it's not real, it's fraud. Come on, man. I mean, you're better than this.” 

“Okay, no one asked you, so could you not?” You looked back at him. “And why wouldn't this be a real marriage?”

“I don't know, because you're not in love?” He pointed out.

“Uh... But we respect each other.” You argued. “We're not in love, but we love each other. We'd just be able to sleep with other people, which basically sounds like the healthiest marriage ever.” 

“You'd be ripping off the government.” Dean complained.

“I'd be ripping off the government?” You looked back at him, tilting your head as you let out a chuckle.

“Yeah.”

“The government that made my mom pay taxes for ten years before giving her the right to vote?” You crossed your arms. “That government?”

“So, wait. Your mom was living here illegally then?”

“Don't tell me you're a resident of Southern California that does not see how this state was built off the backs of illegal immigrants.” You walked towards him, closing the space between you as frustration grew in you. “Like my mom, who crossed that border, lived here for ten years, worked their asses off for ten years, paying taxes for your government, and were treated like less than citizens. Yeah, I will proudly rip off the government. You got anything else to say, Commando?”

“Dude, this is a trap.” Frankie intervened before Dean said anything stupid. “This will not end well for you.”

You kept your eyes fixed on Dean the whole time, waiting for him to say something to continue the discussion.

“I was just trying to help.” He decided to said instead, following his friend’s advice.

“Mmm.” You nodded. “Thanks for your help.”

Dean nodded, stepping out of the kitchen once again.

“Why is he even here?” You asked, turning towards Frankie after closing the door behind Dean.

“He's my bunkmate, okay?” Frankie replied. “He's got nowhere else to stay while we are on leave. Please play nice.”

You sighed.

“So?” You asked, going back to the main topic of the conversation.

“I can't. Okay? I'm... I'm sorry.” He said with an apologetic look. “Plus, I don't think my girlfriend's gonna understand me having a wife.”

“What? You got back together with Riley?” Despite the disappointment, you couldn't help but smile at Frankie's news.

“Yeah. Yeah. I'm... I'm all in.” He smiled with a very in-love look in his eyes.

“I remember when you met her, like, in fifth grade. That's great.” You recalled. “Well, that was crazy.” You let out a nervous laugh. “I should go. There are tourists to be shuttled and food to be delivered.”

“You know if I had the money…”

“No, Frankie, stop.” You cut him off. “I'll figure it out.”

He nodded, watching as you took your bag and walked towards his house door.

“Stay safe, okay?” Yu looked back at him.

“Yeah, you too.” 

“Bye.”

Dean walked back into the house as soon as you left.

“Her parents can't help?” He asked, watching you get inside your car.

“Yeah, um... Her mom's a nursing assistant, so it's not like there's anything extra leftover. Dad dipped out when she was born. Sounds like he was a bad dude.” Frankie answered him.

“That explains a lot.” He sighed.

Dean didn't know what had made him go to his family's garage. Perhaps it was your desperate proposal to Frankie. Or knowing that his assumptions about you were way off. Or maybe it was his need to prove to his father that he wasn't the disappointment he thought he was. Dean was trying his best to make him proud.

But when he saw John interacting with his nephew, something snapped in Dean's chest. His father had never been half as loving and attentive to him as he was to his brother Sam's son.

Although he envied him a little, Dean was grateful that the little boy who shared his name with him didn't have to go through what he had.

“Bye, Grandpa.” Dean Jr. waved his hand goodbye as John pulled his car up to leave. “Love you.”

Dean's heart swelled with fondness at the image. After almost a whole year without seeing him, he ran to the garage once his father was gone and wrapped the boy in a tight hug, lifting him off the ground amid giggles.

“Uncle Dean.” The kid exclaimed with excitement.

“Hi kiddo.” Dean smiled.

“What are you doing here?” The kid asked in between giggles.

“What? I need a reason to visit my favorite kid?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Huh?” He asked, tickling him.

The little boy squirmed in his arms, uncontrollably laughing as he begged him to stop.

“Mom, I found Uncle Dean hiding.” The boy announced as soon as he regained his breath.

“Oh my... Dean?” Jessica, his brother's wife, left the office with a puzzled and surprised expression on her face. “We didn't think we'd see you before deployment.”

The woman walked over to him and wrapped him in a hug.

“Hi, Jess.” Dean said, hugging her back.

“Wow. It's like hugging a tree trunk.” She teased. “I didn't think it was possible to get so buff in eight months. What do you think, kid? Should I join the Marines?” She asked her son.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Should I get all ripped like Uncle Dean?”

“Yes!” 

Dean and Jess shared an amused look at his answer.

But their smiles almost faded completely away when Sam approached them, full of grease from the car he'd been fixing.

Although auto mechanics was more his father's and older brother's thing, the young Winchester had learned from watching them through the years and a couple of classes from his Uncle Bobby to be able to work in the family garage.

“You, uh…” Sam hesitated. “You look just like Dad with that haircut.” He chuckled.

Dean smiled at his teasing.

“And you look like you've been in a fight with a car.” He replied. Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Sammy. Gimme a hug. Bring it in.”

“Good to see you, man.” Sam admitted, hugging him back. 

“Need some help with that?” Dean walked towards the cars in the garage.

“Yeah, sure.” Sam smiled, following him. 

Dean nodded, clapping his hands together as he pressed his lips into a thin, tense line.

“You know, Dad's off for the day, so you can breathe.” Sam told him as soon as he saw his tense shoulders. 

Dean sighed, watching Jess walk back to the office with Dean Jr.

“I think he doesn't wanna see me even more than I don't wanna see him.”

“The man would have to express some kinda emotion for me to know how he's feeling about you.” 

“He made it clear when he cut me off.”

“Come on, Dean. Dad had to draw the line somewhere.” Sam replied. “You were so out of control.” 

“Yeah. No. I know.” He sighed.

Sam looked up at him seeing that he wasn't arguing back. He frowned.

“What's going on, Dean?”

Dean exhaled, pausing for a moment before answering.

“I owe some money.”

Sam sighed.

“We've been here before, and you know... You know I can't help you.”

“Yeah. No, no, I... I know.”

“Is it that piece of shit Azazel, again?” Sam asked. Dean nodded. “What happens if you don't pay?”

“Not paying isn't an option.” 

“Well, he better not come near my family.” 

“He won’t.” Dean assured him. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

Sam watched his older brother for a few moments before turning his gaze toward the office. Jess smiled as she and Dean Jr. made some drawings in her notebook.

“You know, I'm not stupid. I'm not like Dad. This could have happened to me. Mom's death…”

“Sammy.” Dean cut him off, not wanting to get into that.

“What I mean is…” He hesitated. “I'm glad you're trying to get back on your feet. That you're trying to fix things. I'm proud of you, man.”

Dean snorted.

“You're proud of me?” He raised his eyebrows. “That's my role, Sammy. I'm proud of you. Very proud.”

Sam smiled.

“I've missed you, Dean.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say.” Dean brushed it off.

“It's true.” Sam insisted.

“Whatever.”

“Jerk.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Bitch.”

Dean couldn't let his brother down. The very thought of it tore him apart. Sam believed in him. But that didn't erase his debt to Azazel. Dean needed a solution. And fast. Before anything bad happened.

That's when you came into the picture. His memory of your conversation with Frankie. The profits married couples earn from the military.

He couldn’t believe himself when he asked Frankie for your number and wrote you a text to met.

“Hi.” Dean said as he sat across from you at that small booth in one of his favorite diners.

“Hi.” You replied, watching him closely.

“Thanks for meeting with me.” 

You nodded, seeing how he barely looked at you.

“Is your dad in the parking lot waiting to cuff me?”

Your question actually made him chuckle, easing some of the tension on his shoulders. You bowed your head.

“Funny.” He admitted.

“You're acting kinda sus.” You told him.

“Yeah. Well, if we do this, if... We need to be very careful. All right?” He looked up at you for the first time since he had arrived. “We need a story. You and I didn't get along at the bar the other night. The others saw that, but the next night, I was very charming and persistent, and I convinced you to go out with me.”

“You did?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Mm-hmm.” He nodded.

You snorted.

“Was it hot? When you asked me out?” You teased.

He looked at you in disbelief, but kept his gaze steady as he replied. “Very.”

“I'm sorry. I'm just gonna need you to explain yourself, because a week ago you were lecturing me on how this is fraud, so…”

“It is fraud.” He assured. “I don't wanna do this.”

“Okay, so... don't.” You frowned.

“Believe me. If I had any other choice, I wouldn't be.” He replied. “Marriage should be for love. And where I come from, it's for life.”

“Do you come from a fantasy land? Because, where I come from in reality, marriage is really just a pointless legal arrangement that turns lovers into enemies, so... Why don't you have another choice?”

“Don’t see how that’s your business. He replied, his voice turning slightly defensive.

“Kind of is. I am possibly about to marry you.” You reminded him. “Why?”

“I need the extra two grand a month married guys get.”

“That's it?” You raised your eyebrows. “And I'm supposed to trust you here?”

“Trust me?” He scoffed. “Okay. Look, if I can trust a lib who doesn't give a shit about the law or the military, I can sure…”

“I have an ethical code that doesn't include blind obedience, and I desperately need this to literally survive. Whereas you could be, I don't know, stockpiling supplies for your bro-militia.” You cut him off.

“I'm leaving. This was a mistake.” 

You pressed your lips together as you saw him stand up.

“‘Bro-militia.’” He repeated with disbelive.

“Dean.” You called him as you shoved your pride away. “Dean”

“Liberal nut.” He mumbled to himself.

“Dean.”

“What?” He stopped and looked at you.

“Look, I don't like you.” Y0u admitted.

“No shit.” He scoffed. 

“But you seem solid.” You added. “So... I'm sorry, okay? Please.”

Dean needed this, so he wasn't going to pretend that your differences were enough to walk away either.

“Listen. I need you to know what you're getting yourself into.” He said, sitting back in front of you. “If we're caught, I get court-martialed. As in, arrested and maybe doing time.”

“Okay.”

“Look, this is already gonna be a shotgun wedding. We're gonna be on their radar. So, once I get over there, to Iraq, we've... we've got to just, like, set up consistent times where we are gonna speak, okay? We gotta make this look normal, like a real marriage. We'd have to write some romantic emails in case somebody reads them. We just have to keep it tight for my tour.” 

You nodded in agreement.

“And once I'm back here, we file for divorce.” He added. “Gives you a year of free health insurance. And we can split the cash down the middle. Yeah?”

“Great.” You answered in relief.

“And one more small thing.” He spoke once again. “I deploy Friday morning. We'd also have to go out with my company. Act like we…”

“Like we like each other?” 

“Yeah, more than that.” He laughed nervously. “Like, love each other.”

“Okay.”

“And, um…” He hesitated. “So, all married couples spend the night at this motel near base. It means we would have to.”

“Super.” You looked away from his hypnotizing green eyes. “So, are we out of ‘if’ territory? Are we doing this?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, we're doing this. But you can't tell anybody that doesn't need to know. You have to promise.”

“I promise. In fact, I pinky swear.” You smiled, raising your pinky finger at him.

“No, I'm not doing that.” He shook his head.

“We're getting married, man.”

After taking a deep breath and rolling his eyes, Dean finally hooked his pinky with yours quickly.

“I'll text you.” He said, standing up and leaving the diner.

Part 3 - You Signed Up For This (coming soon)

want to be tagged? here you have my tag list

series masterlist

main masterlist

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Tag List: @adrienneleclerc @barnes70stark @milf-ivy @lori19 @losers-clvb @bewr0210 @rurwu

[bertoltblecht]

On Call - Eight

A/N: Back on my bullshit! I'm deeply appreciative of the comments, love and also recently anon asks complaining about the lack of hooking up. They all absolutely make my day. Please enjoy and let me know if you do!

Word count: 3617

Rated: Mature

Tags: Angst, Mutual Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Tension, Sex, Mutual Pining, Suicidal Ideation, Anxiety, Comfort/Hurt, Where the comfort also hurts

Rose: the prognosis is not good 

It was 4pm on Robby’s day off, standing in the grocery store checkout line, and the preview text made his heart lurch. When he quickly opened the text and saw the accompanying image, he couldn’t help but laugh to himself. 

The damned IKEA bookcase of yore was broken and clearly off-kilter. Even before it was in this state of disrepair, it was responsible for the faint scar he could still see if he caught Rose at the right angle under the lights in one of the trauma rooms. 

Robby glanced at the person still ahead of him in line before typing out a reply. 

Robby: not sure further intervention is going to yield good long term results there 

He couldn’t help but watch the revolving dots as she typed.

Rose: sometimes it’s hard to say goodbye 

Robby: call time of death

Robby: it made an attempt on your life

Rose: it killed something alright   

Rose: out it goes

Rose: rip billy bookcase 

The older woman behind him cleared her throat because he was standing like a jag with his phone out while it was his turn. “Sorry,” he winced and quickly paid for his items.  

Robby had two armfuls of groceries and no hands to text back. His walk home was occupied thinking about the strong implication of her text. It wasn’t really an implication at all. She also wasn’t wrong. Who knows how long Robby would have let them carry on if Dana hadn’t made him feel like he was on the verge of ruining a masterpiece that night? If he hadn’t suddenly realized while he stitched her up that her future was far more important than the balm her presence had been to his existence? 

A soft chuckle escaped him as he realized he was flattering himself. Rose Reilly would have eventually tired of him. 

With the grocery haul put away and the desire to cook dinner not yet formed, Robby sat on the couch and pulled out his phone again. 

Robby: med students break all your stuff or just the cursed bookshelf? 

Rose: the shelf a box of wine glasses and a mirror 

Robby: yikes did they drink the beer before they did the work?

Rose: let’s just say i’m going to have personal beef with some of them when they start their emergency rotations. you’ll know why and i won’t apologize for it 

Rose: they’re gone now though and i need a drink after it all. ace’s is calling my name 

It wasn’t exactly an invitation. 

To be precise, Rose didn’t need a drink–she needed several more drinks. After she kicked the med students out of her apartment and successfully removed all the broken glass without incident, Rose had crushed the beer she snagged from the cooler as they left. 

So much fucking glass, and the last thing she wanted to do was suture someone still on their parents’ health insurance, so they were booted after living room had abruptly become a major hazard.  They stacked the rest of the boxes near the door and in the kitchen, then left apologetically while Rose cleaned up. 

The bookshelf had been the icing on the cake. She hadn’t even noticed until she went into the bedroom. 

When Robby stopped responding, she wondered if she had overstepped. It was a bit of a crass joke but she originally debated saying it had killed his boner and surely that was more out of line. 

Instead of dealing with those feelings or stashing away the jumbled pile of her belongings,  Rose opted to make her bed. The new bed with the new bedding she’d decided would be the other way she celebrated being a senior resident. Even if she didn’t sleep well, she could at least lie in a king bed with a half dozen pillows. 

Her phone pinged while she was finishing up, and Rose wished she weren’t a little relieved as she flopped back on the fresh sheets.  

She was admittedly hoping he would take the implied invitation. She was going regardless because there was nothing to eat or drink here and she needed both. And hey, he was in the neighborhood. It would be unfriendly not to say hi if they were in the same place.  

So what if she couldn’t stop thinking about the elevator? Her alarm that morning had woke her from a rather pleasant extended version of those events where they had enough time to find out exactly how he was planning on distracting her. 

Rose wanted to know too. That was part of the problem.

Ace’s was a shitty bar that mostly sold buckets of beers and fried food. It was somewhere between her place and Robby’s, and it was close enough to the hospital you could run into people. That is, if they were interested in a shitty dive bar. 

Which Rose was. 

It had a single old Golden Tee game and a half dozen TVs. Rose learned in med school she was too competitive for Golden Tee. A childhood spent in cracked leather booths vying with her brothers for turns at the arcade games made her quietly ruthless in a way that was easy to miss until winning was on the line. 

After she placed her food order and the bartender brought over a bucket with icy cans, Rose heard the door open and it took every bit of self control and dignity not to immediately look. She didn’t have to suffer wondering long as Robby’s tall frame slid into the seat beside her at the bar. 

“Of all the beer bucket joints in the Burgh…” Robby’s voice hummed with amusement as Rose turned to smile at him. 

“What a very small world it is.” She had to press her lips together so as not to full-on beam at him. 

If she looked him right in the eyes, she would turn to dust so instead she passed him one of the cans and then cracked her own. 

“Many thanks.” 

Their cans nudged in cheers before they both took a long sip. They shared a side-glance, making eye contact.  Neither could help but laugh. 

“So explain to me how exactly all of those things ended up broken?” Robby was the one to break the silence. 

Rose groaned and shook her head. “Absolutely no idea on the bookshelf. Didn’t opt for an autopsy yet. As for the mirror, well, Andrew and Dylan couldn’t navigate the couch and Dylan tripped over his feet and took Andrew down with him. The box of wine glasses probably shattered on the way over but the kicker was that Josh dropped the box to pull out his phone when his friends fell down.” She sighed dramatically and smiled over at him. “They were basically the Three Stooges, and I’m going to wonder forever if I got all the glass.” 

Robby leaned his cheek on his hand, elbow on the bar as he listened intently with a sympathetic smile. “And on top of that you had to buy your own beer bucket.” 

“Didn’t want to get locked up for loitering in case you didn’t take the hint.” 

“Trust me, it would not have been because I didn’t detect the offer.” He inhaled deeply. 

“Glad you came,” Rose offered easily, very glad her plate of onion rings had arrived. “You can have some, but you have to be the one who checks to see if they’re still the temperature of the sun every thirty seconds.” 

He released the held breath in a laugh. “I can accept those terms.” Rose always made it easy for him. 

Over the shared meal, she made him tell her about stabilizing the code silver guy.

“I let Langdon do the peritoneal tap and he looked like he might do a little jig.” Robby was a little loose-lipped when he’d had a couple. “Glad he’s going to make it though. They’re already taking bets on what comes out in the court case. I had to google what ‘milkshake duck’ meant when I saw it on a sticky note.” 

Rose pushed her tongue against her cheek to keep from smirking at the admission, but he hit her with a stern look anyway.

“Shooting him and then coming back to stab him is pretty wild behavior. I guess we’ll have to see what happened to inspire such a strong reaction,” she said, finishing her beer. “I’ve got no stake in that pool. I don’t like the ones that are more likely bummers than quirky and fun.” 

After a moment, Robby tilted his head and nodded in concession. 

A beat of silence and then Robby couldn’t stop himself. “So I didn’t know you… had uh… Panic attacks?” He finished as though asking for clarification on what he’d seen the day before. 

“Up until yesterday, I had a perfect record of not having them inside the hospital,” she said mildly, pulling the last two beers from the bucket and setting one in front of him. 

“Do you have them a lot?” Robby didn’t stop looking at her and Rose didn’t stop looking forward, but her eyes narrowed a little as she considered the weight behind the question.  

“Do you?” 

Her tone was light, but it was like he suddenly remembered she had seen him in a state not dissimilar to hers in the elevator. His shoulders sank and he laughed, shaking his head as he let it drop toward the bar. 

“Anyone ever told you that you’re hard to get to know?” 

“No.” Rose answered genuinely with a laugh. “I’m not mysterious. I’m pretty easy actually, I’m compelled to provide answers to questions. Just not ones being asked with the weight of a truck behind them.” 

Robby groaned in response, rubbing his hands over his face. “What truck? There’s no truck.” 

“I know, I know, but you try having your big, brown eyes ask with your doctor voice how often you’re having panic attacks and try not to feel like you’re supposed to lie.” Rose patted him on the back as she smirked a little. 

“You’re not supposed to lie to your doctor.” 

“You’re right, you should lie by omission and just not tell them you’re having them at all.” Rose tapped her can against his with a big grin. 

The pained but amused look on his face made her take pity on him. “I’ve had them for a very long time, and I’ve got a lot of tricks for not having them when it matters but I get thrown off sometimes,” she explained.

Opening her last beer, she swiveled her barstool in his direction. “Jack said my friend told you guys the story about the mushrooms in the woods and while I can only imagine what his recollection of that was… my panic attacks started around then, and it took a while to learn to manage the way I do now.” 

Robby took a moment and sighed. “Yeah… I gotta be honest I did not like how he told that story. I don’t think Jack did either. He seemed to think it was a really funny high school story and not… what it was.” 

Rose lifted a shoulder. “We’ve all got weird shit, I just don’t usually tell that story to coworkers. No one likes to hear about a 14-year-old off her head and lost in the woods. They start to look at you like they want to know how often you’re having panic attacks.” Rose had to end with light teasing because Robby visibly flinched at the age tidbit, and she realized Ben must have left that part out. 

His eyes crinkled with the gentle smile he offered, and Rose found herself grateful he didn’t feel the need to say anything.

“Your turn,” she prodded lightly. 

A noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh left Robby and he shrugged, clearing his throat. “College? I think I had the first one. Combination of lack of sleep and stress and whatever personal bullshit. Really thought I was dying at the time.” He scratched his cheek. “Got really bad in med school for a while. Found things to help around then because I couldn’t just push through it. Now… it’s usually when there’s a build-up. Takes a shitty venn diagram.” 

Rose almost felt like she should be holding her breath, like he was an animal in the woods she was trying to observe and if he realized she was there he’d dart off. It was stilted, but it was the most he’d ever opened up. She wanted him to know she was there though, so she exhaled and let her hand rest on his arm. 

“That’s what happened in the elevator. Just too many things not in my control. No clear next thing to do.” 

His gaze found hers and her throat went dry. Perhaps the ordeal of being known wasn’t all that mortifying if it meant someone looking at her with the understanding she found in him. 

The bartender coming over to check on them ended the moment as the jukebox turned over. 

Oh baby, don't it feel like heaven right now?

Don't it feel like something from a dream?

Yeah, I've never known nothing quite like this

Don't it feel like tonight might never be again?

Baby, we know better than to try and pretend

Tom Petty could fuck off with that right now. 

“Want to get out of here?” 

It was Robby who said the words that were trying to escape her. 

“Yes.” 

They were greeted outside by a rumble of distant summer thunder and a misting of rain coming down. Other people were exiting the bar and Robby’s hand found her elbow to tug her into the side alley, his lips finding hers as soon as she was facing him again. 

Finally.

Rose went willingly. One of his arms wrapped around her waist and the other hung by his side as he kissed her. Her hand cupped his cheek, fingertips against his neck pulling him down into her. 

Breaking away breathlessly, Robby’s lips continued along her cheek, jaw and down her neck. 

“Now it’s only a ten minute walk to your bedroom,” he mumbled against her throat. The soft sound she made raked through him. 

“Five minute walk to your couch,” she retorted, tugging him into another kiss.

Robby leaned back against the wall, his free hand sliding into the back pocket of her jean shorts and tugging her so she was standing with one of his legs between hers. She’d forgotten just how deliberate he could be. 

As his hand crept under her shirt to touch her bare skin, Robby forced himself to remember he was standing in the alley beside a bar very nearby their place of work. He pulled away to lean his forehead against hers, the hand in her pocket indulging in a squeeze that made her raise an eyebrow. 

“Couch it is.” His voice was rougher than usual, reverberating through his chest and scratching at her senses. Rose squeezed his leg between hers, making him exhale in a groan. He kissed the smirk from her face before having to once again center himself. 

“You’re going to kill me,” he sighed with a chuckle. “Come on.” 

Rose bit her lip against a grin as she held up her hands in surrender and let him step away. 

It was static between them as they stopped touching, a fuzzy, almost itchy feeling that left them bumping hands and nudging shoulders as they started down the street in the direction of his building. Five minutes of comfortable silence and rising potential, and they arrived. 

Robby gestured for her to enter as he pushed the door open and it was barely closed behind him before Rose found herself against the opposite wall. They had made it away from potential prying eyes and his burning desire for more touch drove him as he kissed her hard, pulling her thigh up to his hip, thumb rubbing over her knee as he pressed impossibly closer. The stretch pulled the seam of her shorts and made her whimper against his lips. 

Fuck, he couldn’t even use thinking about baseball to stay in the game because that reminded him of her too. 

Their clothes ended up scattered along a path to the living room. Rose nudged him to sit back on the couch, losing physical contact for only a moment before her knees straddled his legs. 

They weren’t frantic or rushed, but a raw desperation kept them from lingering too long through the beginning. 

Maybe it was the time spent having only memories of this, maybe it was his eyes catching her gaze and holding it, maybe it was his hands remembering the shape of her body as she moved - but even as they both worked toward release, Rose could feel the storm gathering in the back of her mind. She would be three for three on breaking her own heart as she walked out of his apartment again tonight. Her breath caught in her chest and she clenched around him with a gasp as he shifted for leverage and pressed to get them both there. 

Her name left his lips as his head fell to her shoulder, both of them shivering in the aftershocks. She kissed his neck, letting her fingers rub over his cheek, the rough prickle a grounding sensation. It felt so nice to be touched with kindness, to be held against his body with reverence. Tears stung her eyes as that thought pressed through her hazy mind to her conscious one. They were easily blinked away as she soaked in the warmth of him. 

It was a long time that they stayed there, the sweat drying uncomfortably over them but neither one wanted to figure out what was next. Finally, Rose broke away, catching him for a lingering kiss before she stood. It was easy enough to find her clothes as she headed for the bathroom. It was harder to avoid looking at herself in the mirror as she quickly cleaned up and got dressed. 

When she came back, the Pirates were being absolutely crushed by the Dodgers on the TV and Robby was standing shirtless in his kitchen starting a pot of coffee. He hummed when Rose wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

The kitchen window was cracked open, letting in the sound and scent of the summer downpour. Robby turned around, his hand sliding up her arm to the side of her neck. “Thought I’d make some coffee, catch the end of the game, wait out the rain before I walk you home.” 

Rose only nodded, tipping her chin to kiss him again before letting him slip away when the coffee pot finished. 

The Pirates embarrassed themselves as usual while she focused on the sound of the rain and the way Robby’s fingertips traced absent patterns on her legs in his lap. The rain ended before the game did, but they weren’t quick to move, letting the last two innings wrap up.

“I guess at least they’re consistently bad now, still reliable in their own way,” Rose offered as she stood and Robby turned off the TV with a laugh. 

In his entryway, he caught her hand to tug her into a soft kiss. Rose gave him a small smile as they separated, and he felt his chest tighten uncomfortably. Maybe she made it too easy for him. He swallowed the sudden guilt that settled in alongside the ache as they headed downstairs.

The air outside was heavy but fresh from the rain. The silence between them was light. As they approached her building, for the first time in hours she remembered she was going home to a new place. She suddenly felt caught between transient states. Knowing she couldn't linger in that feeling for fear of drowning in it, Rose stole one more kiss in case this was the last time they were ever stupid enough to do this. 

They both started to say something but shrugged and laughed instead. What was there to say? 

“I want to see the new place sometime when you’ve had a chance to unpack and settle,” Robby said softly. It lit a small spark in her chest, the prospect of another time. “Pending your formal invitation, of course, or should I just leave my calling card?” His mouth twitched upward. 

“I’ll have to see where I might be able to pencil you in. It’s hazardous right now with the cursed objects around.” Rose chuckled. “Thanks for the ride.” She smirked as his ears and neck turned red. 

“Get outta here before I implode,” he waved her off but he smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow,” Rose confirmed before heading inside.

It wasn’t worth sifting through the emotions in her tonight. Instead, Rose took a long shower and crawled into the new bed. 

Maybe they should have come to her place. The boxes and general disorder were understandable given the timing and she might have even convinced him to stay the night. Sex with Robby was good, often great. She just didn’t expect that passing out next to him was going to be the part she missed the most. The sleep was embarrassingly high on the list of their previous arrangement’s perks. 

It would be easy to tell herself a nice lie about being in a new space and the day being long and weird, but it had been the intense coupling and parting that left her chest cavity feeling drafty. It was a familiar feeling though and one she knew would pass with a night’s sleep, with or without his warm body beside her. 

prev/next

[italianexotiicbeauty]

this is goodbye.

[ this will be inevitably the last post you see from me. due to mental health reasons and the political state of things within the united states, i am uncertain how much longer I will be able to afford to be around. ]

[ i have been TRYING very hard to find a job, so that my mother who is partly retired doesn't have to find a second one. I have signed up for workforce alliance ( otherwise known as the department of labor ). I am taking skill courses through cursa to gain certification in areas that employers would look at and maybe consider me as a candidate. to say it's been hard wouldn't be an understatement, I have been crying a LOT. Feeling like a burden, a failure — and I can't make anyone understand the situation we're unfortunately in. ]

[ I am very scared we're possibly going to become homeless. That we will not be able to afford the bills, or car insurance. Hell, we struggle so badly financially that someone else has to pay our rent. We cannot count on “family” because alls they do is hold it over our heads. With the health situation of my mother she cannot afford to be without extra income … she also cannot fully retire because she has no nest egg. If you're unaware, social security wasn't meant to fully sustain a retired individual — which is why 401ks and/or pensions exist. And when you have NEITHER of those, you have no choice but to keep working even part time. ]

[ anyway. ]

[ you made it this far. you don't have to keep following me since I will no longer be writing on this account or the side blog. I will clear out drafts and turn off the ask box. Discord is an option obviously if you already have me added — you can message me here, if that's the only communication format we have. There's also email — goddessflackitty@gmail.com ( if you prefer ). I no longer use WhatsApp or Facebook, I've long since removed the apps for Bluesky & Instagram from my phone due to doom scrolling and how unhealthy it is for me. ]

[ I am so very sorry to anyone that was looking forward to continuing or starting something with me — but I just cannot do this anymore. ]