#hearing loss and brain health

[health-and-fitness-care]

Hearing Loss An Important Health Issue You Can Not Ignore

Ear Buds are risky To Average Use….       1 }.  Hearing Loss An Important Health Issue You Can Not Ignore Millions of individuals worldwide suffer from hearing loss, a condition that is frequently disregarded or undervalued. Hearing loss may be brought on by aging, loud noise exposure, underlying medical issues, or other factors, and it can significantly affect a person’s quality of life,…

[crimeronan]

blood pressure was normal at the doctor today for the first time in Months. what being diagnosed and given medication does to a chronically ill mf.

[us-colivia]

Cortexi: Your Path to Enhanced Hearing Health

👉Visit Official Website ➡ Cortexi

Unveil the Power of Cortexi: The Ultimate Supplement for Hearing and Brain Health

Introduction

Hearing loss and cognitive decline can significantly impact the quality of life. Cortexi, a cutting-edge dietary supplement, aims to address these issues through a blend of natural ingredients. This comprehensive guide will explore what Cortexi is, how it works, its benefits, and answer some frequently asked questions.

👉Visit Official Website ➡ Cortexi

👉Visit Official Website ➡ Cortexi

[healthstore-47]

From Muffled Conversations to Crystal Clarity: My Life-Changing Experience with ZenCortex

Life used to be a symphony of missed notes. Conversations felt like muffled echoes, the TV a distant mumble. Crowded restaurants were an assault on my ears, and even following a simple conversation with a friend became a frustrating exercise in lip-reading. It wasn't just age, though that didn't help. Years of exposure to loud music and the constant hum of city life had taken a toll. My hearing, once vibrant, was fading, and with it, a piece of my connection to the world. See More click here 👈

[helthcareproducts]

Cortexi Revolutionizing Hearing and Brain Health

[thiagoarantesousa]

🧠NEURORISE EXPOSED (⚠️CAUTION!!⚠️) THE TRUTH ABOUT THIS BRAIN AND HEARING SUPPLEMENT | HONEST REVIEW

[orcbusinessman450]

Do you or someone you know is suffering from hearing loss? I'm promoting a product that can help solve that problem. With Cortexi, improve your hearing with each gradual usage.

click on the link for more information.

[fitness-guider]

The most effective treatment for the tinnitus problem, improving the brain's function, reverse hearing loss and being healthy for the general health of people is Sonavel.

[vidpoker11]

Hearing loss linked with dementia in older adults - Study

A new study led by researchers at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health found that older adults with greater severity of hearing loss were more likely to have dementia, but the likelihood of dementia was lower among hearing aid users compared to non-users.The findings, from a nationally representative sample of more than 2,400 older adults, are consistent with prior studies showing…

[harringtonfm]

STEVE HARRINGTON & BRAIN DAMAGE, HEARING LOSS, AND PTSD:

almost every season, steve gets the shit beat out of him and a lot of the injuries from that localise to his head. it isn’t until the russians beat the crap out of him in season 3 that he starts to notice the effects that it has on him. steve started to experience nausea, headaches and memory loss. it was nothing huge, just where have i put my keys? and lack of spacial awareness was something that he struggled very much with, considering that and his coordination have always been spot on. he had also noticed some changes in his hearing, just in his left ear.

he went to the doctors to get it looked at in the gap between s3 and s4 and it was confirmed that he had mild brain damage. the damage was done, and he was young enough that it could heal but they wouldn’t know for sure until it either did or didn’t. the hearing loss was irreversible, and it was confirmed that steve is almost completely deaf in his left ear.

it took him longer to go to the doctors regarding his mental health, until after the events of season 4. things were at an all time low and he called a crisis helpline, who sent an ambulance to him. of course, his parents weren’t impressed but it at the very least started his journey to bettering his mental health. steve was diagnosed with ptsd, though he left some major bits out of his story with the therapists because they would never believe him in a million years. after the diagnosis, he was prescribed medication to help him cope with the symptoms and therapy gave him coping mechanisms for the bad days. it’s still bad, he’ll live with the conditions for the rest of his life but he’ll be able to manage them at least, and work on a plan with his doctors.

of course, his parents are not exactly happy with the picture that their son is putting out into the world, but nothing he could do would ever be enough. their jobs come with the health insurance so lucky for him, the meds aren’t that much of a put out for them, otherwise he sure as hell wouldn’t be allowed them unless he paid out of his own pocket.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: When your own identity is challenged you're forced to find an ally in what you thought was the most unlikely place.

Warnings: Angst, Memory loss, mentions of death

Word Count: 5950

Notes: Sorry for the wait but I had to map things out to answer all the questions I started in the previous chapters (set myself up there) and lack of motivation was kicking my ass. Still, I hope you enjoy!

Part 2 ○ Part 4

You were picking at the food on your plate as Azriel stared at you, looking like he'd rather feed you himself. As hungry as you were, everything was hard to stomach. You tried to tell him as much but had only been met with a scolding, he seemed extremely interested in your health. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was content with watching you even if you never actually gave him anything. It seemed like the spymaster wasn't too preoccupied with the fact that he had caught you stealing from his High Lord.

Following your sudden breakdown, Azriel had managed to calm you down enough, insisting that you didn't talk about anything else until you ate and were ready for it. Your eyes still hurt and were probably puffy from the tears that had flowed not even an hour ago, and your head still ached, even if it didn't come anywhere close to the excruciating pain you felt before.

The same feeling as before still crawled under your skin, the same questions swirling around in your mind, but you managed to find your composure after the ache had transformed into something manageable and the tears had dried. Admittedly, you were a bit scared of prying into your mind and triggering the same reaction as before - it really had felt like your brain was trying to forcefully escape your skull.

You were still trying to make sense of everything, denying that you were missing important information wouldn't help you. There was no way Azriel was confusing you for someone else, not with the way your body reacted to him and the dreams you've had for far longer than you've been here. There was also the problem of you being a prisoner in this room, as nice and attentive as your prison guard has been there has to be a punishment waiting for you.

When your head felt like it was going to burst, you could swear someone else had barged into the room but you couldn't stay focused on it or hear what they were saying through your own desperate screams. You think you saw something red glinting, but didn't even make out anyone's form, your vision was too blurry. You're not even sure how many of them walked through the door. By the time you came to and calmed down it was only you and Azriel in the room again, and all you could feel was his arms around you, grounding you.

You bite down on another small piece of sausage, arranged as if they were meant to feed a child - you hadn't seen him cut them but you know it has to be his work - as you remembered how desperate he sounded in that moment. You're not sure if the soothing words he whispered in your ear were meant for you or for himself, he was just short of begging you to be okay. It was a little embarrassing to think about how fragile he had seen you in that moment but it was even worse remembering how intimately he held you.

Looking up at Azriel, you're not surprised to meet his eyes, they haven't left you for longer than a second, it's like he's scared you'll disappear if he looks away. You can still see the concern swirling in the beautiful hazel.

You had so many questions, knew he had even more, but you weren't sure where to even begin. Any hope of him starting to talk was evaporating faster with every second. He had told you he wouldn't bring anything up until you were ready but you thought he'd at least ask about the robbery, start off easy. You couldn't push your doubts aside any longer, it felt like you were both playing a part, ignoring the elephant in the room.

“Azriel?” His name triggers the same reaction every time you say it. You might have to go to a healer if you survive this, having your heart fluttering so often can't be healthy.

“Yes?” He leans closer letting his wings pull in closer to his body, ready to give you his undivided attention.

You've noticed how his wings move with him and can give you small clues on what he might be feeling sometimes, like a cat's ears, perking up or dropping with his emotions. The same happens with his shadows really, moving towards you when they're interested, like a tail you suppose.

“There's something wrong.” His eyes open wide and he's on his feet before you can even blink, standing over you and reaching out for your hand. That might not have been the best way to start.

“What's wrong?” He holds onto your wrist, feeling for your pulse. “Does it hurt again?”

“No, nothing hurts,” you try to calm him down, cheeks slightly flushed. “I mean this.” You gesture between the two of you, hoping he's aware of the terrified expression on his face. “You're worried about me.” He visibly relaxes at that, understanding you're not physically hurting again.

“Of course, I am.” He sits on the side of the bed, never letting go of your wrist but holding onto it a little softer, drawing circles with his thumb over your skin. You're not even sure if he's doing it on purpose, or if it simply comes naturally.

“Why would you be?” You have an idea of the answer, he's already made it more than clear that he knows you very well. “I thought you'd be guarding me to make sure I didn't escape but you've been taking care of me instead.”

His eyes roam over your desperate face, taking notice of every expression you make. He's probably scared of saying something that will send you into the same state as before, clawing at your head to stop, but you can see how much he wants to tell you, to stop pretending.

“You're my wife,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips right after, like saying the word is enough to make him happy, and looks down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist, running his thumb down the veins to the palm of your hand, loosely holding it instead.

“I don't…” You thought there had to be some sort of romantic relationship between you and him, or the person he thinks you are, but you didn't expect him to say wife. “I've never been married.” You never even thought it would be a possibility with your job.

Him thinking you're his wife definitely answers a lot of questions, mostly the reason why you aren't in a dark dungeon after what you've done to them, but it just opens up a whole other box of chaos.

You set the plate aside, knowing you can't keep any more food down with the way the conversation has to go. You wish you could just crawl into your own bed, in your own home and wait until all of this mess passes. Running a hand down your face, you steel yourself, recognizing you need to get to the bottom of this, not only for your sake but his as well. Whatever was at play here was larger than you could have imagined.

“I don't remember you at all, Azriel,” you admit. He just nods, almost pouting, without looking away from your hand still clutched in his. “But I've dreamt about you.” He perks up at that, surprised eyes darting up to meet yours.

“I dream about you almost every night,” he admits softly, a reddish tint covering the tips of his ears.

“If I'm supposed to be your wife, should I be offended that it's not every night?” The lame joke does nothing to ease your nerves, as you intended, but the blinding smile he rewards you with certainly makes the next words easier to come out.

“What you called me before… that's not my name,” you continue slowly, “My name is Maya.”

“Maya,” he tries it out but the discomfort is obvious on his face. To your surprise, you don't like how it sounds coming from him either, while every other word he utters sounds like honey.

“I know that's my name. I know I'ver never been here or met you before,” you explain, “I know I never married you either. I can account for every year of my life, there are no gaps in my memories. You're not in any of them, neither is this house,” you look into his eyes the whole time, squeezing his hand slightly, wanting him to feel your sincerity, “but there's something wrong.”

He studies your face with an unreadable expression. If this whole situation is hard for you to wrap your head around, you can't imagine what it is like looking in from the outside. The only reason you believed him was because of your body's response to him, but all he can see is a female who looks just like his wife yet doesn't recognize him.

His hand leaves yours as he takes the ring he was wearing off slowly, taking your hand and depositing it on your palm gently.

“What's this?” It's a simple silver ring, worn out from what you assume is years of training and fighting while wearing it. Your heart palpitations come back the longer you study it, you know it.

“My wedding ring,” he almost whispers, “You had yours when…” You look up at him and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, “I don't have it.”

You nod and let it fall on your finger, in place of where your own wedding ring would be. It's too big on you, it would likely be too loose even if you had put it on your thumb, but you almost don't want to take it off. Goosebumps spread all over your body, your heart rate picking up.

“Do you feel anything?”

“I'm not sure I can explain it,” you breathe, not fully understanding the reaction your body has to him.

“Try me,” he insisted.

“Ever since I heard about this mission and stepped foot into this city, it feels like my brain is screaming at me to remember something really important but I can't,” you say, watching the way the wedding band hangs around your finger, “and when I put this ring on just now.” You hold up your hand for him to see, the light catching on it.

You look up at him before continuing, “When I first saw you. When you told me your name. When I… When I stabbed you.” Your eyes travel to his stomach, where an open wound had been just a few hours ago. “I feel a pain in my chest.” It makes itself known again as you think of the way his blood had dripped down your hands. “Holding the ring feels right. Saying your name feels right. But hurting you… didn't.” You take a deep breath in, knowing there's no going back, “So, as insane as this whole situation is, I think I believe you, Azriel.”

The admission lingers in the air as both of you feel its weight. Acknowledging the particular situation you've found yourselves in is only the beginning. Now you must try to understand what happened and how to fix things, if you want that. Part of recognizing what Azriel told you as the truth comes with accepting that some of your life was a lie, and, at this moment, you have no tangible evidence for what is real or not aside from the goosebumps you get when the male in front of you touches you. You don't even know who you truly are.

“If you say I'm your wife then what made me leave?”

“You didn't,” the hesitation is almost tangible in his tone, “I thought you were dead.” Your hand immediately shoots up to your neck, feeling the softened scar under your fingertips. The movement seems to break the dam holding his emotions in check, making everything flow out at once.

“I don't know what happened,” he lets go of you and stands up, running a hand through his hair and pacing around as he explained with an anguished voice, “It was a simple mission. We never found out how exactly but it looked like you were taken by surprise and attacked by bandits. My shadows told me they couldn't sense you so I went to meet you but when I got there all I saw was blood. There was so much blood.”

When he meets your eyes again you can clearly see the tears gathering in them, the pain that still lingers from recalling that moment.

“I looked for you. We all did. We searched in every corner of the world, I sent spies everywhere. We found the bandits and made them talk but when they left your body was still there and your throat was cut.” His wings droop, the bottoms of it touching the floor. Azriel looks defeated. “We thought you were dead. I tried denying it for a while but it came to a point where I couldn't anymore. But now you're here and I- Fuck. I should have kept looking. I shouldn't have given up so easily.”

“Azriel,” you call for him, bringing his attention back to you. The desperation and raw pain in his voice were breaking your heart. “Whatever happened wasn't your fault.”

“I should have found you,” he whispers, completely contrasting with his tone mere moments before.

“You thought I was dead.” The words are hard to form, and you can't linger on them too long. You always knew the injury you suffered was severe, that it had been near miraculous that you survived but finding out there were people out there that truly believed you were dead was chilling. “This whole situation still feels impossible, there's no way you could have known I was still alive.”

He nods at you, but you can clearly see he can't let go of it. The attentiveness and overprotection he's been showing you makes much more sense now. Azriel sits on the chair he has barely left since you were brought to this room. He seems to try to regain his composure, combing back the hair he had tousled and bringing his wings up closer to his body again. But his eyes don't meet yours like before.

You fall back against the headboard, the impact softened by the pillows he fluffled out for you, picking at his wedding ring still on your finger. You feel like you're going insane. Maybe letting the guild find you wouldn't be so bad, at least they'd put you out of your misery. Though it's hard to ignore the fact that they seem to be the ones who put you in this situation, letting you live a lie for almost a century.

“It's been a century since then,” you repeated aloud, “And you still…” Love me? You wanted to say, but that wasn't really you, not for now at least. You don't remember anything of your time together, or about yourself. Maybe the only thing that survived was your body. There's a possibility that the female he loved had actually died, that he'll never fully get her back even if you regain your memories.

“I told you,” the smile you witnessed earlier comes back to his face, even if with only half the prior intensity, “I dream about you almost every night.”

“This doesn't make any sense.” You had moved to sit cross legged over the covers, tired of laying in bed when your body wasn't even hurting. Nibbling on a chocolate cookie the House, who Azriel told you is sort of sentient, gave you.

“I know.” He had calmed down since his outburst, going back to what you assume is closer to his usual demeanor, though he might not always act the same as when his dead wife is sitting across from him. His shadows seemed to have relaxed as well, most of them had left him in favor of swirling around the room like smoke. “When I saw you in the living room, I thought you came back.”

“But I came to rob you instead.”

He lets out a chuckle, “I couldn't have imagined that in my wildest dreams.” His gaze turns a bit more serious before he adds, “my High Lord and High Lady want to speak to you.”

“I figured as much.” You were actually surprised they hadn't shown up yet, the sun was already close to setting. “Did you tell them you think I'm your wife?”

“They know. You and Rhys were friends too.”

The thought that you could be friends with a High Lord is almost laughable, but so was being married to his shadowsinger and yet the fluttering of your heart every time he speaks to you in that deep, soft voice of his doesn't lie.

You think for a bit, remembering the information you had been granted before coming on your mission. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful one in history and the bearer of one of the most sought-after and frightening abilities - daemati. It's said his mate, the recently turned fae, Feyre Archeron, shares the same talent.

“Is it true that he's a daemati?” He simply nods, knowing you're following his train of thought.

“You want him to look into my head.”

“He might be able to find out what happened to you,” he nods, “the reason you forgot me, forgot us.”

“And you're sure he'll want to help me after what I did? He looked pretty mad when I saw him last night,” you say as you chew on your lip.

Granting him passage into your mind might be more than a leap of faith. You've found it easy to talk to Azriel, to trust him, but you haven't met anyone else, and can't trust they won't want to hurt you. Azriel seemed to not care much about your initial reason for coming to the court or even what you did to him but you can't expect everyone to feel the same, even if they had been your friends a century ago. And a daemati could break you beyond repair, even just seeing their abilities in action has always left you unsettled.

“Rhys won't hurt you,” he tells you, his face showing he has no doubts about his words.

“It's not like I have much of a choice anyway,” you brush the crumbs off your nightgown, stretching your legs and moving until you are sitting at the edge of the mattress. It brought you closer to him, your knees brushing his, the feeling of the leather feeling oh so familiar against your bare skin, making your next words come out breathier than you wanted them to, “You can call them.”

Something flashes across his tantalizing eyes when he looks down at your bare legs, noting the change in your tone, but it disappears when he looks back at you, nodding softly and letting his eyelids shut as if to level himself. Some of his shadows come back to him and, as his silence prolongs, you realize he must be speaking to them in his mind, calling his High Lord just as you asked.

The pressure in the room changes as soon as he opens his eyes, the air getting harder to breathe. It's not as strong as what you'd felt the night before but the tamed magic is enough to have the hairs on the back of your neck stand, and a shiver to run down your spine. You truly hope Azriel is right about them.

Azriel stands just as the door opens to reveal his High Lord followed closely by his mate. His unreadable purple eyes study your stiff form, walking inside the room and letting Feyre close the door behind them. She seems more serene, not showing any obvious hostility towards you but you know not to underestimate the human who freed the fae of Prythian.

You stand when they stop in front of you, not letting fear make you appear weak. If they chose to hold you accountable for your actions you would accept their punishment head on.

The first word out of the High Lord's lips is the same name Azriel had called you before, and the same feeling of deja vu consumes you once more.

“Maya,” you correct. His head tilts to the side briefly, before looking over at Azriel who is watching the scene unfold warily.

“Well Maya,” his eyes meet yours again, “Are you going to explain why I've found you lurking around my house?” The venom was clear in his voice, but you expected as much.

“I was sent here on a mission,” you say as emotionlessly as you can, just like the guild taught you, “I was supposed to find an ancient book with a particular set of runes, it seems it belonged to your grandfather.” You hope the lack of information doesn't make you appear suspicious because it truly is the only thing the guild had deemed enough for you to be able to complete your mission. “Since I failed the mission, they've probably already sent assassins after me, in case I tell you or anyone about them.”

“No one is going to hurt you,” Azriel promises, anger rising at the mention of someone wanting to kill you.

“You were in the wrong place for that,” the High Lord responds after a moment, and watching Azriel's reaction. “The book is in the library under this House.”

“It doesn't matter now.”

“You're right, it doesn't. What I want to know is where you've been all these years and why you attacked my brother.”

The pressure in the room increased again but you could now see it was the result of him trying to hold his power down even though his temper was rising.

“Rhys,” his mate warns, but it falls on deaf ears, his striking eyes never leaving yours.

“I don't remember you or him,” you admit.

“So he's told me.” Rhysand didn't sound too convinced. “You won't mind if I check for myself right?” He barely made it sound like a question but you nod in answer all the same.

Black talons scrape along your mental walls as soon as you give him permission, you lower them for him, pushing everything the guild taught you aside, inviting the enemy straight into your mind. If they could see you now you would definitely be mocked and executed on the spot.

His presence is barely felt in your mind before a sharp pain takes your senses, similar to the one you'd felt before. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands moving to hold your head. Scarred hands are on you immediately, holding you up against a strong body before your knees meet the ground. As the talons retreat from your mind, the pressure lessens and you take a few deep breaths before opening your eyes.

When you manage to blink away the wetness making your vision blurry, you find the High Lord looking at you with wide eyes, remorse clear on his face and his mate holding onto his arm.

“What did you do to her?” Azriel's voice was rough with barely restrained anger.

The High Lord ignores him, looking into your eyes as he explains with a notably softer tone than earlier, “There is something blocking your memories. When I tried to bypass it… It hurt you.”

“What does that mean?” Your voice was scratchy, a dull ache lingering in your head. You lean away from Azriel and sit back on the mattress. No use trying to act tough, you're truly at their mercy.

“It means I can't access your memories for the time being,” the change in his demeanor would give you whiplash if the pain you were feeling gave way long enough for you to focus on anything else, “I've never seen anything like this, there's no way of knowing what it can do to you.”

“I think your memories aren't only being blocked,” he's still speaking directly at you but you can't really wrap your mind around anything at the moment, letting them discuss amongst themselves. “They're being overwritten at the same time.”

“That's why she forgot Azriel but remembers her life at the guild?”

“I've never heard of anything like that,” Azriel's voice sounds further away, you almost want to reach out and pull him back to you.

“Me neither,” the High Lord admits, watching your crouched form warily. “We'll have to ask Amren and research it in the library but it's the only explanation.” You find yourself nodding, even if you don't know Amren you understand the ancient creature might be able to help, if she wants to that is.

“At least your mental walls are still intact. They're the same ones I taught you to build.”

“No, I learned at the guild,” you finally look up at him, sweat still covering your forehead.

“There's still an open channel, like an open door for me to be able to talk to you.” So I can do this. You can't help but jump slightly at the sound of his voice in your mind, and the promise of a smile twitches on his lips. It doesn't go unnoticed that the talons moved a lot more carefully in your mind, almost tenderly.

“You're staying in this house until we can be sure you're not a threat.” His eyes move to Azriel's, an unimpressed look taking over his face at the scowl the shadowsinger sends him. “In the meantime you can fill Azriel in on everything you can about the guild. I want to know if there's a chance they'll try to attack us again.”

“We'll try to find any information on what is blocking your memories and keep you safe from the guild in exchange,” the High Lady adds, “It's a fair trade for both parties.”

You can't tell if she's saying it to convince you or her mate but appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. Also noticing how she omits the biggest reason for this mutual cooperation - the shadowsinger standing by your side.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

His hair was still wet when he started dressing himself, not wanting to leave you waiting for too long, as much as he hated to admit it he wasn't too happy about leaving you with Feyre either. He can tell everyone is still suspicious of you, even after Rhys tried to read into her memories to find nothing, stuck between their memories and stories they heard about you and the image of you stabbing a knife through his stomach.

Azriel knows his High Lady, his friend, wouldn't hurt you, but you're in a complicated situation at the moment and he doesn't want to find out what that guild has taught you to do in cases such as these, doesn't even want to think what Feyre would do to stop you. She didn't know you before, meaning she wouldn't have any reason to hold back if not for his sake - something he knows she wouldn't put above saving Velaris, he would never ask that of her either.

It's hard to accept he doesn't know how you'll react in certain situations, there was a time he knew you better than he knew himself. Now, he can't even begin to understand what you must have been through working for a world known assassin guild.

He'd obviously heard about them before, he wouldn't be a decent Spymaster if he hadn't. There wasn't much information on them, no one knew how large the group even was since there were rumors other groups were actually integrated in the guild. Names for it vary as well.

Even if you hadn't tried to steal from his High Lord, he knows he'll have to try getting as much information about them from you as he can, for his court's sake, and he can only pray you'll give it to him willingly or he'll have to let go of his position.

He doesn't know how you've been able to bear the guilt a job like this brings. As much as you've forgotten, your personality didn't seem to change a lot. You always reminded him of Cassian at times like these, gratuitous killing had never been for you. He hopes you don't have to deal with the torment he had been through in the first decades of working for the former High Lord, his soul had never recovered from everything he'd seen and done during that time.

Noticing his shadows reach up his shoulders, he physically shakes the dark thoughts out of his brain. Everything has been going better than expected, not only did you agree to cooperate but Rhys had given you the benefit of the doubt. You also agreed to have dinner with him so you could talk more.

He just told you he'd be joining you for dinner, omitting how excited, downright giddy, he felt at just the idea. It had been so long since you two shared a meal, talking for hours while enjoying the tasty food the House prepared for you.

He couldn't recall the last time he'd been this nervous for an outing, even if it wasn't exactly that - it was simply a trip to one of the House of Wind's guest rooms. Going as far as picking clothes in your favorite colors on him, letting the top buttons on his shirt undone because he knows how much you liked seeing the beginnings of his swirling bargain marks.

All of this could be for nothing, you don't remember him after all, but, he was almost certain your body did in some way and it gave him hope. You calmed down in his arms just as you did a century ago, said his name in the same sweet cadence and never shied away from his touch, from his hands. His shadows told him as much. Sang to him about the way goosebumps rose in your skin at his touch and attentiveness, how your thoughts and intuition warred in his favor. He refused to let his thoughts deter him.

When he gets to the room he sees you and Feyre standing by the dresser, almost wanting to apologize for winnowing in instead of knocking first, but he can't seem to find any words as he sees you've changed as well, ditching the nightgown in favor of a sleeveless dress that went down to your knees. The cobalt blue was as striking against your skin as he remembered, the garment in itself was simple enough yet in his eyes you had never looked so stunning.

Feyre must have been the one to give you the dress, he was only surprised it had taken her so long to meddle in your relationship. If there were any doubts, they were quickly answered when she threw him a knowing smile before excusing herself from the room.

“I'm guessing the blue is supposed to match those gems you wear.”

“Siphons,” he offers, entranced by the way you walk closer to him, the silky fabric moving with your body and giving you an ethereal glow.

“Did I used to do that a lot?”

“Yes.” He observes the way your eyes run over his body, lingering on the unbuttoned shirt. Seems like his old tricks still work. “I always loved seeing you in blue.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly, biting the inside of your lip the way you always did. He tries to stand as still as possible without appearing too awkward, making sure you knew it was alright to do with him anything that crossed your pretty brain. You seem to make up your mind as you walk closer to him.

“Can I see them?” You hold up your palm and he holds his hand over it without hesitation, letting you grab onto his hand to study the glowing siphon. The swirling light shone in your eyes and he can't help but be reminded of the first time you asked him to do the same exact thing shortly after meeting him.

“All Illyrian warriors have them,” he explains, “They're used to help us control our powers.”

“It's beautiful.” He tries not to let his wings twitch as you now hold his hand with both of yours. “I don't think I've seen anything like this before.”

“You have,” he can't help the somber smile that crosses his face. The reminder makes you look away from his hand to watch him, a conflicted expression falling over your pretty face. “You always liked them.”

The abrupt change in the atmosphere has him asking the house to get the room ready for your dinner. Not being able to hide the smile as he watches your amazed expression at the table that pops up beside you, full of delicious looking food and decorated with candlesticks, the faelights around the room dim in favor of the candlelight.

“I only asked for the food,” he admits with a bashful expression. He's glad you can't tell that, aside from the candles, the plates were also some of the fanciest ones. The House was going all out for the two of you.

He uses the grip you had on his hand to guide you to the chair and help you sit before making his way to his own seat, settling down and giving order for the House to serve both of you. Letting himself enjoy every little expression you made as you eat and listening to anything you felt like telling him, also answering all your questions about the House and the food.

He knows this doesn't have the same meaning to you as it does to him, knows that, as much as you don't seem to hate his company, you're more interested in finding out more about the version of you in his memories, trying to make sense of your own identity. It's hard to imagine how this whole thing must feel for you, finding out half of your life was made up and that you forgot such an important part of it. Still, this must be the best night he's had in a century.

You set your elbows on the table and rest your face on your hands, watching him with undivided attention as he tells you about his sparring match with Cassian. Your eyes don't leave his face after he finishes, appearing lost in thought. He lets you gather them, relishing in the comfortable silence. He'd be content with simply watching you for eternity.

You let out a soft sigh and lean back against the chair, closing your eyes for a few seconds before meeting his gaze again.

“What happens if I never remember you, Azriel?” Your voice barely above a whisper.

The question and the uncertainty in your voice as you asked it make him pause. He keeps trying to push back the thought that you won't regain your memories but it seems you were having the same doubts.

Just last week, he wouldn't have believed having you back was even a possibility, so getting your memories back can't be out of reach, it just can't. He was ready to give his life to make it so.

Still, he witnessed how painful it had been for you when Rhys simply tried to access your memories, he'd also told him trying harder, forcefully, could break your mind completely. If their research doesn't go well, if they can't find who did this to you, there might not be another way of bringing your memories back.

But he'd sooner die than live another day without you, whether your memories come back or not.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

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[doki-doki-imagines]

Hey can I request the lin keui trio +earthrealm defenders reaction to y/n asking them to eat pineapple to make their cum taste better

author note: the snort I snorted. I suppose this is a sequel to this request. No actions are described. I'm dying this request killed me LMAOOO.

Johnny Cage: -Why is his smile getting so big? Why does it look so wicked? -"Oh, dear-" Johnny purrs out, walking towards you with open arms "I already have the perfect diet to taste delicious." -He doesn't hug you but gets dangerously close, his figure imposing in front of yours. -"Your memory must be playing trick to you-" His lips close to your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine, making you arch your body towards his chest. "Let's try it again? Just to remind you how delicious I am."

Kenshi Takahashi: -If he was drinking, he spits. If he wasn't, he coughs, choking on his saliva. -Kenshi knows that he doesn't taste like peaches and everything nice, but… is he that bad? -Nobody ever complained. -Kenshi will act annoyed, dropping the topic the second you bring it up. -Doesn't mean he won't start drinking the juice at any occasion he isn't with you. Kenshi cares about his partner.

Raiden: -His face gets so pale when you tell him that. You were worried he was going to pass out. -If only Raiden likes pineapple… -He gags every time he tastes it. -Raiden wouldn't mind trying different ways, but please no pineapples. -Or he'll just go down on you forever. -One of the few cases where your partner wouldn't mind if you never go down on him.

Kung Lao: -"Dunno what you are talking about. When I kissed you, I tasted fine." -1HKO. -Lao is a teasing shit, but he doesn't mind changing diet to make you happy. -You are lucky this guy eats everything. Ask Raiden. He had to pay for shit that he didn't even think could be cooked.

Liu Kang: -"Don't joke, dear one." "What do you mean? I'm not joking." "With Godhood you get many pros, you know?" "So what? They gave you amazing tasting semen?" "I'd say holy and delicious." "Oh God, Liu Kang!" "You don't need to call me twice." -You lost. Accept it. -Liu Kang will kiss your forehead to sweeten your loss.

Geras: -He knows about this stuff, but Geras thought he already had a good and balanced diet. -He accepts without making a fuss about it. -And maybe go even further, looking in the future to see if there are ways to make it taste even better to you.

Bi-Han: -You told him during breakfast, he choke on his tea. -His brain barely works and you start talking about his cum??? -"You seemed to enjoy it very much both yesterday night and the times before." "But-" "Don't you say another word." -But the damage is done, a woodworm penetrating his head and not leaving Bi-Han alone. -Maybe, for you, he'll do it.

Kuai Liang: -He looks at you, cheeks red and mouth opening and closing like a fish out of the water. -Okay?? Liang will do it because he loves you. -But also, did you have to ask for lunch? With the risk of Tomas and Harumi hearing! -For sure he's gonna ask if something changed the next time you go at it. -The next morning btw.

Tomas Vrbada: -Flat line, he has a poker face but it doesn't seem like he is breathing? You are more worried about his health now. -Tomas just didn't expect this? But he doesn't mind drinking it to make your experience more enjoyable. -Now since you complained once, Tomas has something to say too… -A good relationship includes talking after all, right?

[soobnny]

end of the day — law student kim seungmin x med student yn. established relationship. comfort.

you come home after a long, tiring shift to your bf (0.8k words)

warning. mentioned minor character death. hospital terms.

It’s late when you get back to your apartment from the hospital. The bustle of the city had long died down, and the only sound you could hear was from the gentle pitter patter of the rain’s leftovers, the train from a distance, and the horrifying sob of a mother who had just lost her daughter echoing in your ears from just a few hours ago.

The bleeding was too severe in her brain, and even after 36 hours, there were still no brainstem reflexes. She was pronounced brain dead after some time. You can still remember the way it hurt you—the look on her mother’s face, slowly losing her composure. That break in her features. Loss will never be easy.

Sighing, you tuck away the pain as you kick off the white shoes you’re wearing from your numb feet. You never got used to the night shift duties, and you suppose you never will. For now, you just wanted to hop into the shower, eat something, and get some sleep. You’re afraid that if you think about it more, you’d start crying.

“Hey, doc.” Your attention shifts to the voice from your living room. “How was your shift?”

Seungmin has a bad habit of hugging you even when you've just come from the hospital. And you suppose the right thing to do would be to push him away, the way you usually do, scold him for threatening himself with nosocomial infection, but after the 36 hours you had, you find you can’t bring yourself to do it.

It’s how Seungmin knows to tighten his grip around you. Almost like he knows.

(He does. He has you and your entire heart memorized.)

“Never gets easier.” You sigh, face planted on his firm chest. He’s wearing a white shirt that’s a little big for even him, and it’s a little lopsided that it reveals a bit of his collarbones. His messy hair is indicative of having studied before he heard you unlock the door. “I wish there was more that I could do.”

“You’re studying and working so hard, and that’s enough right now.” He whispers, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Have you eaten?”

You shake your head. You don’t remember the last time you were able to get a proper meal during your shift.

“You didn’t eat yet?”

Seungmin would’ve scolded you had you not been so exhausted. He had always been the number one advocate of your health, always reminding you to eat on time, drink the required amount of water a day, but he knew his scolding was the last thing that you needed right now, only quietly asking for a bit of his comfort.

“Let’s eat, okay?” He asks you, soothing your hair down and carefully leading the pair of you to the kitchen. “I cooked a lot tonight cause I knew you were coming home.”

“Am I disturbing you? You must’ve been studying.”

“Hm? No, no. I was taking a break anyway.” Seungmin reassures.

“How was your recitation about that case study?” You suddenly ask, just as he sits you down on the table.

He pops your food in the microwave, reheating it for you, and he laughs quietly to himself. How kind of you to remember even when you’d been busy. It had been something Seungmin studied very hard for, something he was anxious about a few days prior.

“It was good.” He smiles, patiently waiting for the microwave to beep. When it does, he sets the food in front of you with a glass of water before taking a seat next to you. “Eat well, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Minnie.”

“You must be so tired.” Seungmin frowns, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear.

You had shaken your head when he called you out for your exhaustion, but your eyes begged to differ, threatening to close every once in a while.

It’s quiet the rest of the time that you eat, which is only a good few minutes. Your stomach must’ve been craving for food all this time. Seungmin takes note of preparing you a few meals to bring to your next shift. He’d done it a few times, but has had to take a momentary pause due to the business of his schedule.

“Are you gonna go to bed too?” You sound guilty when you ask him, and it’s adorable the way you look at him with doe eyes. Almost hopeful, but desperately trying not to show it. It’s been a while since both of your sleeping schedules have aligned.

“You go shower first while I clean up okay?”

“No. You already cooked, so I can wash the dishes. It’s the unspoken rul—“

A kiss is planted on your lips. Very effective at shutting you up.

“Just wash up, and I’ll handle the rest, hm?”

“Okay, fine.” You start to walk away before you make an abrupt halt. “Does that mean we’re going to bed together?”

Seungmin laughs. “I won’t be long.”

[scientia-rex]

Because my most popular post is about weight loss and how it's a crock, I get a lot of questions about various things, including bariatric surgery--just posted the link to the post I did about that--but also Ozempic/Wegovy, the once-weekly injectable semaglutide medication that was developed for diabetes but was found to have independent benefits on weight loss.

I always said that weight loss was like Viagra: when a medication came along that actually worked, it would explode. We'd all hear about it. Fen-phen in the 90s worked, but it was bad for your heart. Stimulants, like meth, may cause weight loss, but they do it at the cost of heart health, and raise your likelihood of dying young. Over the counter weight loss supplements often contain illegal and unlisted thyroid hormone, which is also dangerous for the heart if taken in the absence of a real deficiency. Orlistat, or "Alli," works the same way as the Olestra chips Lays made in the 1990s--it shuts off your ability to digest fats, and the problem with that is that fats irritate the gut, so then you end up with fatty diarrhea and probably sharts. Plus Alli only leads to 8-10lbs of weight loss in the best case scenario, and most people are not willing to endure sharts for the sake of 8lbs.

And then came the GLP-1 agonists. GLP stands for glucagon-like peptide. Your body uses insulin to make cells uptake sugar. You can't just have free-floating sugar and use it, it has to go into the cells to be used. So if your body sucks at moving sugar into the cells, you end up with a bunch of glucose hanging out in places where it shouldn't be, depositing on small vessels, damaging nerves and your retinas and kidneys and everywhere else that has a whole lot of sensitive small blood vessels, like your brain.

Glucagon makes your liver break down stored sugars and release them. You can think of it as part of insulin's supporting cast. If your body needs sugar and you aren't eating it, you aren't going to die of hypoglycemia, unless you've got some rare genetic conditions--your liver is going to go, whoops, here you go! and cough it up.

But glucagon-like peptide doesn't act quite the same way. What glucagon-like peptide does is actually stimulating your body to release insulin. It inhibits glucagon secretion. It says, we're okay, we're full, we just ate, we don't need more glucagon right now.

This has been enough for many people to both improve blood sugar and cause weight loss. Some patients find they think about food less, which can be a blessing if you have an abnormally active hunger drive, or if you have or had an eating disorder.

However, every patient I've started on semaglutide in any form (Ozempic, Wegovy, or Rybelsus) has had nausea to start with, probably because it slows the rate of stomach emptying. And that nausea sometimes improves, and sometimes it doesn't. There's some reports out now of possible gastroparesis associated with it, which is where the stomach just stops contracting in a way that lets it empty normally into the small intestine. That may not sound like a big deal, but it's a lifelong ticket to abdominal pain and nausea and vomiting, and we are not good at treating it. We're talking Reglan, a sedating anti-nausea but pro-motility agent, which makes many of my patients too sleepy to function, or a gastric pacemaker, which is a relatively new surgery. You can also try a macrolide antibiotic, like erythromycin, but I have had almost no success in getting insurance to cover those and also they have their own significant side effects.

Rapid weight loss from any cause, whether illness, medication, or surgery, comes with problems. Your skin is not able to contract quickly. It probably will, over long periods of time, but "Ozempic face" and "Ozempic butt" are not what people who want to lose weight are looking for. Your vision of your ideal body does not include loose, excess skin.

The data are also pretty clear that you can't "kick start" weight loss with Ozempic and then maintain it with behavioral mechanisms. If you want to maintain the weight loss, you need to stay on the medication. A dose that is high enough to cause weight loss is significantly higher than the minimum dose where we see improvements in blood sugar, and with a higher dose comes higher risk of side effects.

I would wait on semaglutide. I would wait because it's been out for a couple of years now but with the current explosion in popularity we're going to see more nuanced data on side effects emerging. When you go from Phase III human trials to actual use in the world, you get thousands or millions more data points, and rare side effects that weren't seen in the small human trials become apparent. It's why I always say my favorite things for a drug to be are old, safe, and cheap.

I also suspect the oral form, Rybelsus, is going to get more popular and be refined in some way. It's currently prohibitively expensive--all of these are; we're talking 1200 or so bucks a month before insurance, and insurance coverage varies widely. I have patients who pay anything from zero to thirty to three hundred bucks a month for injectable semaglutide. I don't think I currently have anyone whose insurance covers Rybelsus who could also tolerate the nausea. My panel right now is about a thousand patients.

There are also other GLP-1 agonists. Victoza, a twice-daily injection, and Trulicity, and anything else that ends in "-aglutide". But those aren't as popular, despite being cheaper, and they aren't specifically approved for weight loss.

Mounjaro is a newer one, tirzepatide, that acts on two receptors rather than one. In addition to stimulating GLP-1 receptors, it also stimulates glucose-dependent insulinotropic polypeptide (GIP) receptors. It may work better; I'm not sure whether that's going to come with a concomitantly increased risk of side effects. It's still only approved for diabetes treatment, but I suspect that will change soon and I suspect we'll see a lot of cross-over in terms of using it to treat obesity.

I don't think these medications are going away. I also don't think they're right for everyone. They can reactivate medullary thyroid carcinoma; they can fuck up digestion; they may lead to decreased quality of life. So while there may be people who do well with them, it is okay if those people are not you. You do not owe being thin to anyone. You most certainly do not owe being thin to the extent that you should risk your health for it. Being thin makes navigating a deeply fat-hating world easier, in many ways, so I never blame anyone for wanting to be thin; I just want to emphasize that it is okay if you stay fat forever.

[itsgrimeytime]

When he loves you... || Rick Grimes (TWD)

When you love him (prequel)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

Alexandria. It was like a breath of fresh air, despite everyone still being skeptical -clean showers, clean houses, a home-

You were pleased, very pleased -even with your own doubts, you knew such a place was a miracle.

What you had noticed, however, was the wear and tear on your leader -he was stretched thin with every responsibility, and you knew he wasn't taking it well. Especially with Judith and Carl to take care of-

That's why you were here, at his doorstep, far past dinner. The sun set and the chill of the night dusting across your arms, you knocked.

You knew a long time ago that you were in love with Rick. It was more complicated then, with a wife and a baby and the loss- Some would argue it was less complicated now, with you a staple in his kid's life and his own.

He leaned on you like a rock, a friend, sure, but his rock. You weren't sure it was healthy on your part, honestly, but you loved him. You'd do anything to help him.

Once again, hence you being on his doorstep late in the night. Well, not late late, but you knew he wasn't asleep.

He wasn't sleeping, you knew that too, so-

The door swung open, and there he was -newly shaven and clean jaw. You hadn't seen that yet.

"When did you-" you motioned around your chin, it came out like an instinct -the beard was one thing, but now.

"This mornin'," he answered like it was normal for you to be at his doorstep -which it kind of was. You'd been gone all day on runs, you led a lot of them now -another thing to help Rick, now that you realized.

"Looks-" you cleared your throat, awkwardly, "-Looks good, Rick. Haven't seen you like that since-"

"The farm," he answered, smiling a little at what you weren't sure. It was nice to see, though.

"Well, yeah," you agreed, before shaking your head out of the stupor (stupid jawline-), "-Wait, I have a reason for showing up, actually."

"Don't need one," he hummed, offhandedly -opening the door more to let you in.

"I do, though," you echoed, something swirling in your stomach at the words -you stood squarely on the porch, "-Look, let me take Judith tonight."

"What?"

"I said-"

"No, no," he clarified, "-I know what ya said. Just... why?"

You stood your ground, a little intimidating but you always were with his health, "I know you haven't been sleeping."

"And you want to-"

"Help," you finished, "-I can stay here if you want, but I thought I'd take her a night, so you could at least try to sleep. I know you're busy the rest of the day, so-"

"I love you," he breathed out like it was a fact -as simple as the sun setting.

You froze, your tongue heavy in your mouth -your heart stilling in your chest. Did you really hear that right? Did he-

"Let's talk," he spoke, like his words were as normal as 'how was your day', and he nudged open the door even further -inviting you in, "'At okay?"

"Uh, yeah," you answered, a bit on instinct -your brain was running a mile a minute, all you heard was those words bouncing around your brain, 'I love you.' Had he really-

He guided you to the couch, motioning you to sit where you want -you chose on the far left, hopefully far enough to take a few breaths. Calm down-

Rick sat right beside you, your knees bumping into each other -his side pushed into yours. So much for a breath-

"Rick," you echoed, a little lost, "-did you-"

He sighed, a big loud one, and you were startled into silence, "You know I know all ya do for me, right?"

"Yes," you answered decidedly.

"Bringin' me a plate from Carol's, leadin' on runs, hell you even volunteer for baby duty," he laughed, "-No one wants baby duty."

"Well," you stammered, "-you haven't been sleeping, I just-"

"You care," he hummed, turning to face you, "-a whole lot. Always have."

"Well-"

"You deserve to know people care 'bout you, too," he echoed, now wrapping your hands in his, "-a whole lot."

"You-" you started, slowly.

"I love you," he confessed, like it was as easy as breathing, before laughing and adding, "-a whole lot."

Your mouth ran without thinking, "I love you too."

"I know," he smiled, a twinkly sort of one and you realized now he was just smiling at you.

You opened your mouth to ask how, but he cut you to the chase.

"Like I said, no one wants baby duty."

[ohtobeleah]

Day Seven [The Hills Have Eyes]

Summary: Jakes mind plagues him with haunting memories at your funeral. Bradley is forced to come to terms with the fact he'll be Jake Seresins metaphorical punching bag for the rest of his life.

Warnings: Mentions of main character death. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Grief. Loss. Mental health issues. Jake hurting Bradleys feelings RELENTLESSLY.

Word Count: 1.5k

Whumptober Prompt Day Seven: Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Bruises Masterlist

“Here, this is gonna sting, but we need to clean this up a little,” Some of the world’s top trauma specialists have proven that our brains may forget the traumas we’ve survived. But our bodies, especially our nervous systems, always keep score. 

“Y-you have shitty craftsmanship Seresin,” You tried to lighten the incredibly hostile mood as Jake pressed a small bit of his peroxide-soaked Normex suit to your eyebrow. “But at least my eyebrow will match my botched-up thigh,” 

“I didn’t inherit any sort of surgical skills from Pops, that’s for sure,” Jake had ripped a small amount of the dirty material from his leg after you’d sustained a rather large gash through your eyebrow from one of the guards. They’d pistol-whipped you just for the fun of it. Through the bars of your cells, Jake offered to do what he could to try and ward off infection with the very limited amount of medical supplies that the two of you had been given in your time in hell. “Hold on, we’re gonna have to improvise here, Hotshot,” Jake sighed as he pressed the soaked material to your eyebrow. 

“Ah–!” You hissed as the liquid soaked into the deep wound that sliced through layers of skin and muscle right to the bone. “Fuck, you’d think I’d have a better pain threshold after everything huh?” 

“You’re fine,” Jake chuckled back as he looked around to see if he had any sort of suture supplies left over from when he’d been tasked with stitching up your thigh. “When we get outta here I’ll have to make sure I brush up on my first aid and CPR,”

“Jake?” Memories are stored in our shoulders, spines, stomach, and hands, without us ever knowing. We assume a painful backache or shaky hand is harmless and random. 

“Yeah?” Jake replied as he pulled the soaked bit of normex away from your eyebrow. He wished more than anything that he was on the same side of the bars as you were. 

“I think your CPR skills are just fine,” 

“Are you flirting with me right now Hollywood?” Jake smiled as he let the pad of his thumb trail across your cheek, taking shock of just how sunken your eyes had started to become. How tired and drained you really looked. 

“Nothing else better to do, is there?” You smiled back, praying that you’d get to know a version of Jake Seresin that wasn’t a prisoner of war. 

The pain we feel could always be more than random. It might be our bodies reminding us of what we’ve endured. 

And warming us not to let it happen again. 

“Y/n always had a way with words,” Jake’s hand shook as he held the piece of paper that held the key to his heart on it. The memories of you plagued his mind like a Rolodex suck in flip mode. No matter the time of day or night, you were on his mind. Jake swore he could feel you. He swore black and blue he could hear your laugh in the wind and see your smile on others. But in the night, in the depths of darkness when Jake’s mind would wander, he could only ever see you in that cell. Broken and bruised. 

“Whether they were being yelled or softly spoken, she always had something to say about everything,” It was possibly the hardest address he’d ever had to give. Your Eulogy. “But I know I speak on behalf of everyone here today when I say, no matter what she had to say, everyone here would take the time to listen,” 

Trauma doesn't tell time. It can't tell if we're eight or forty-one. If a kid has chicken pox or if you have the biggest, most challenging recovery ahead of you. And when it sneaks up on us, it's easy to think that we're right back at square one. 

“Y/n once took the time to coax me back from a platform I never even knew I was ready to jump from,” Jake’s words echoed into the valley below as a crowd of mourners paid their respects to your now-dead self. You could feel their sorrow as you watched from a distance, ready to move on to the next life. But someone was keeping you tethered to the real word. Someone wasn’t ready to let you go. 

That someone being Jake Seresin. 

“She said to me, one night when the memories of our shared trauma were all too consuming, that on the days when you miss someone the most, as though your memories are sharp enough to slice through skin and bone.” Jake took a moment to pause as a breeze rolled through the valley and carried fall leaves along in its path. He could feel you in every breath he breathed and every tear he cried. “Remember how they loved you. Remember how they loved you and do that for yourself.” 

Jake wanted nothing more than to trade places with you right now. He knew that someday soon he’d reunite with you. The time he’d been given with you was a cruel, sick joke that whatever God at the wheel that day decided to play. He couldn’t blame himself, you’d told him time and time again that none of it had ever been his fault. But there was blame, and someone would take the full front of it. That someone was sitting right in the front row, alongside your father. Bradley Bradshaw. 

“In their name, in their honour. Love yourself as they loved you. They would like that.” Jake paused as the sun peaked out from behind a collective of clouds that had somewhat shaded the hilltop on which you’d been buried. A non-traditional naval burial as Jake knew your wishes. You wanted to be at rest, at peace with your short time on earth. You had brought him here one afternoon to help him find solace. Jake thought to himself that it would be the perfect spot to spend all of eternity, in this life and the next. 

“I never really understood, but standing here today, I realise now that ‘they’ was ‘her’ all along.” Jake again took a moment to collect himself as he took another deep inhale, reminding himself to breathe. “I will always live out the rest of my days in honour of you, my dear,” Jake meant every word he spoke. “Till my dying days,” 

The truth is, even when our brain convinces us we're lost, if we try hard enough, our bodies will always remind us that there's a way back. And prepares us for whatever fight lies ahead. 

“Jake, buddy, it’s time,” Rooster had known that Jake never left your eternal resting place during the wake. Everyone had paid their respects, everyone had said their final goodbyes. Jake though, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you on that hill all by yourself. What if you got cold? What if it started to rain? What if a storm rolled through, you hated thunder. What if you got lonely? He knew you were afraid of the dark. 

So, Jake stayed. He stayed with you for hours, just sitting beside the newly laid dirt that was your grave. 

“You can't stay here forever,” Bradley spoke softly as he crouched beside the broken shell of a man who was once Hangman. A confident, promising, highly skilled aviator. Now? Jake was just a broken man who had lost everything, his career, the love of his life, his passion for life. 

All because he cared too much. 

“You should be under that dirt, Bradshaw,” Jake shot back when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “It should have been you,” 

It hadn’t been the first time, and it wasn’t about to be the last time that Jake took his grief out of Rooster. Bradley knew deep down that it couldn’t have been true. But as he sat beside the man who had been through so much pain, turmoil and torture, he thought perhaps there was an element of truth in those words. 

“Let’s get you home, Hangman,” Bradley sighed as he heard the clap of thunder rolling in from a distance. Jake heard it too, he didn’t move. “Y/n wouldn’t want you to stay here like this. They win if you can’t bring yourself to stand up,” 

Jake didn’t move, he wasn’t going anywhere. He simply stayed kneeling beside your grave with his head hung low in defeat. 

“They won the minute we hit the fucking ground, Bradshaw,” Jake sobbed prolifically as he crumbled. Bradley caught the shattered mess of a man who was Jake Seresin, his wingman. 

“I got you man,” Rooster sighed as he held Jake’s crying self in his arms. Right beside your grave as the storm rolled in. “I got you,” 

“I’d give anything for it to be you!” Jake screamed as he felt Bradley tighten his grip around him, tethering him to the last remaining slither of his own sanity. “It should be you, not her!” 

All Rooster did was hold his friend for dear life, silently crying with him. He knew how much grief coursed through his best friend’s veins. He’d felt it all his life. But this? This was something new entirely. 

“I’d switch–” Was all Rooster said as Jake cried in his brother’s arms. “I’d switch–” He repeated as the tears Jake cried soaked into the Bradley suit pants. “Without any hesitation man, I’d switch,”

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